Duel Unhinged | Vestra Tane v.s. Arris Windrun

[Arris Windrun]

CORUSCANT
SENATE ROTUNDA
Vestra Tane​

Iconic. The rotunda, the traditional seat of galactic politics, has endured much. How many times was it attacked? Rebuilt? Indeed, when the Covenant found it, the superstructure was in ruin. But now, it was the focal point of the Covenant's reconstruction effort.

At the building's heart, where senators once met and debated the lives of trillions, Arris Windrun sat at the bottom looking up. The space had largely been carved out to make room. Nearly half the senate pods were discarded, with the rest converted into viewing platforms for spectators. Construction workers and slaves -- under Varin Mortifer 's purview -- labored to meet impossible deadlines.

Footsteps alerted the cyborg to another's presence. Familiar. She looked to her side and saw Vestra approaching.

She wasn't particularly happy to see her.

Arris shifted to her feet and dusted off her jacket and pants, then put her hands on her hips and turned to face the woman.

"Don't you have an academy to run?"

 

[Vestra Tane]

There was always a breaking point. It was the inevitable conclusion of any honest historian of the Sith - eventually, no matter how powerful the warrior or clever the assassin or brilliant the sorcerer, every Sith broke, finally, sooner or later. Jedi sacrificed themselves, nobly, to save hundreds of lives. Jedi died peacefully, surrounded by students and friends and teachers. Sith killed and tortured and maimed, until there was nothing left of them but an empty husk or an animal to be put down.

It was the price you paid to be free. Vestra just hadn't expected to begin paying it so soon.

A jet black hand held her coat closed as she wandered into the senate chambers. She hadn't intended to come here; she hadn't intended to do anything at all. She wandered in a haze, as she had for months.

"Don't you have an academy to run?"

Finally, she looked upon Arris Windrun , whose presence she hadn't registered until she heard her voice.

Arris, who slaughtered her way through the finest tournament the Galaxy had seen in ages. Arris, who killed with a smile that held no joy. Arris, to whom Sith meant weapon.

Arris, who had cursed her with guilt.

Something flickered inside her, and she smiled. It was a hateful, ugly expression.

"Fuck off, Arris."

She wasn't bothering with the street-rat affect anymore. Her accent was rough, rural. She sounded tired.

 

[Arris Windrun]

Vestra Tane
​

Arris caught the signs of the Triumvir's dissociation. She had been in that situation herself, quite often, maybe all the time, until recently.

Still, that didn't mean Arris would dote sympathy upon her, for she had none.

Vestra's words weren't particularly hurtful or annoying, but Arris had expected them to be followed by something at least. It hadn't dawned on her that the Chandrilan simply wandered up to her in a haze.

She snickered. "I'm sorry - is that all you came here to say?"

The cyborg stepped a pace forward, hands where they were at her hips. Then, she turned and waved a dismissive hand. Vestra's smile annoyed her.

"You know what? Fuck off yourself. Go mope about Chandrila or whatever the hell you've been doing."

 

[Vestra Tane]

"Ace threw our fight."

Vestra hadn't realized what she'd said until the words left her mouth. But it was a good angle, for...whatever it was she was trying to do. She wasn't quite sure. But Acier Moonbound felt like the perfect knife to start prying Arris open with.

"Back on Genarius. When he first joined up. It was easy to tell."

As she spoke, she stumbled towards one of the nearby senate pods. Tenderly, she traced synthskin fingers over its cool metal shell. Even as dull as she felt now, the smooth metal thrummed to her senses with endless potential for violence.

The flicker in her chest grew; now it was an ember, fed by kindling of fear.

"Even with one arm, he shoulda put up a better fight than that. Figured he wanted something. Thought it would be funny to watch him."

Don't leave. I just started feeling again.

"How much do you share with him, Arris? How much do you think he shares with his friends?"

Hate me a little longer.

 

[Arris Windrun]

Vestra Tane​

Arris tilted her head.

That was not the response she expected. If she was expecting at all.

It took her a moment to process exactly what Vestra was saying. That Ace threw the fight, and the implication that followed: that Ace allowed himself to be captured by the Sith. But why would she say that now? And why so out-of-pocket? Initially, Arris didn't want to accept it or her line of questioning as anything but a shallow attempt to start something.

Yet, the Talusian had her own doubts of late.

"First - I learned that you're a complicated fuck. I mean, you were captured by Vestra, right? But when we spoke, you said you believed in this. The Covenant. Yet, unlike the other acolytes and apprentices, you have zero ambition. No initiative. You killed when I asked you to kill, without hesitation. You attacked ISB headquarters and stuck to the mission, but you resent the 'reward' of being my apprentice."

But her doubts were more than that.

This was terror pure and simple, and if they - The Covenant - were 'us' then the whole galaxy was 'them.' It defeated the scale at which Arris could view everything through the lens of gangland. A street rat's logic, rationale, and worldview no longer prospected a future worth living in.

Her doubt was in the Covenant.

And she held hate in her heart for the likes of Vestra Tane.

Windrun's gaze steeled; a rare reaction that breached the sterile nothingness of the perfectly controlled cyborg. Of course, Vestra knew well enough what kind of person Arris truly was, and how easily that switch was flipped.

"Get to your point, Vestra, if you have one." Demanded coldly.

 

[Vestra Tane]

"Your apprentice is a rat, probably, maybe."

She turned around to face Arris again, and that smile was still stuck on her face. Hateful, ugly...and now, just a little bit, happy.

"And you let him in because, what, you liked his grit? Because he was a good soldier? Like that makes him a good Sith."

One Triumvir took a step towards the other.

This was monumentally stupid. Vestra knew what kind of woman Arris really was...and what kind of damage she could do.

"But, hey, maybe that's improvement. He's turning out better than Nilira, isn't he?"

Finally, the hate bubbled up from her chest and crept into her voice. Her expression didn't change.

The flame grew, black as pitch, nestled within her heart.

"Maybe when you're done with Ace, he'll do more than sob and wait to die."

 

[Arris Windrun]

Vestra Tane
​

Oh, it annoyed her, alright - but smearing Ace and her reasons for selecting him felt like a grasp.

Arris picked up what Vestra was trying to do, but she still wasn't clear as to the why. Especially, since their last little bout at the Red Ronin left Vestra on the floor to be consoled by Mercy, who insisted that the two stop fighting.

She rolled her eyes and started to turn away from Vestra.

"You're gonna have to do better than--"

"But, hey, maybe that's improvement. He's turning out better than Nilira, isn't he?"

Arris stopped; metal foot dug into the sand.

"Maybe when you're done with Ace, he'll do more than sob and wait to die."

She looked back over her shoulder. "The hell's that supposed to mean?" Fingers twitched at her side.

She knew exactly what the Sith was alluding to, and that alone tempted the cyborg to turn around and pummel her, but she wanted Vestra to say it. Arris needed to hear it directly, if only to satisfy some pathetic part of her longing for a judgment she herself was too cowardly to submit.

Her self-loathing crackled in the Force between them.

 

[Vestra Tane]

Finally, Vestra felt alive again.

That rage in the air. The disgust. It felt like a tiny spark could ignite it all, and then she'd get what she wanted.

"You broke that girl, Arris."

The Sith's smile warped into a sneer. It looked more natural, if not any more pleasant. Her back straightened, and she shifted on her feet, like a shockboxer psyching herself up for a match.

"And then, what? You threw her around a little because she pissed you off? Promised her you'd kiss it and make it all better?"

The Sith's laugh was mirthless, mocking, even.

Maybe she was taking this a touch more personally than befitted her station. Maybe, perhaps, her rage here went beyond mere indignation at bad pedagogy. Some of it was self-directed - anger and regret and failure that simmered just beneath the Sith's skin.

It was all the same here - all fuel to needle Arris as harshly as she could.

 

[Arris Windrun]

Vestra Tane
​

"You broke that girl, Arris."

"I did."

For a moment, she felt calm.

"And then, what?

And then, it was over.

"You threw her around a little because she pissed you off?"

Fleeting and unappreciated.

Her hands curled into a fist; metal fingers scratched metal palms.

"Promised her you'd kiss it and make it all better?"

The back of her hand flew towards Vestra, projecting a telekinetic blast strong enough to dent plasteel. Then, she turned, hand stretched towards her. One accusatory finger pointed right at her.

"You don't know what you're talking about, and if you invoke that again, I will reach into your skull and rip out your grey matter." Arris seethed.

She walked towards Vestra, words to match each slow step. "I. Will. Kill you."

 

[Vestra Tane]

The back of her hand flew towards Vestra, projecting a telekinetic blast strong enough to dent plasteel.

The Sith just smiled again, head reeling to the side from the sheer force of impact. If she hadn't been prepared, hadn't expected retaliation, the force would've been enough to twist her head from her shoulders.

"You don't know what you're talking about, and if you invoke that again, I will reach into your skull and rip out your grey matter." Arris seethed.

She walked towards Vestra, words to match each slow step. "I. Will. Kill you."

This was good.

No more pretense.

No more pretending.

Vestra touched her cheek, wetting two onyx fingers with blood. She rubbed the digits together, and sparks, icy blue and hateful, began to dance along her hand.

Something changed in the Force between the two, and the Chandrilan began to burn from the inside.

"Yeah. Probably. But it'll be fun."

She shifted. Brought her left hand up and out, and kept her right close to her chest, presenting a narrow, nimble profile to the Dark Horse.

"And we've got it coming."

Arris Windrun​

 

[Arris Windrun]

Vestra Tane
​

Windrun's brow bent over lifeless eyes. Yet in the Force, her rage was palpable, if only seething beneath the surface. Not quite unleashed as it was at the Red Ronin, but it was there, festering quietly since that day. She hated Vestra Tane.

So when the Sith took a stance, all Arris could do was scoff.

But something Vestra said was true. They -- the Triumvirate and their little show -- did have it coming. The cyborg's hate wasn't just for the woman in front of her. It was for herself. For Mercy. For the whole damn Covenant. But letting it out on her was easy.

Arris reached down and drew a gun from her holster. She didn't even bother to be quick about it, as if Vestra wasn't skillful or worthy of a serious showing, or maybe the gunslinger had just become that complacent. Even her stance was more like a competition shooter's than a killer's. Still, if Vestra wanted an all-out brawl, she'd have to try harder than this.

One metal finger pulled the trigger (she didn't bother to flick the accelerator on first), sending a high-powered slug aimed directly at Vestra's chest.

 

[Vestra Tane]

Arris Windrun​

Arrogant. Lazy. The way Arris held that gun - as if Vestra couldn't dodge a bullet. As if a slug to the chest would do the job. This was the Triumvir's last dance - did Arris think she could just kill her and be done with it?

The air around the Sith crackled and filled with the scent of ozone, as great arcs of purple-blue lightning danced around her. And her nerves - like a fire under her skin, burning away just to give her an edge.

Arris squeezed the trigger.

Vestra dashed for Arris, faster than she'd ever moved before.

The slug grazed her torso, punched through her coat's underweave and took a sliver of rib bone with it on the exit path. Behind her, she registered the dull thud of metal-on-metal as that hunk of lead dented a senatorial pod.

Irrelevant. It wasn't an immediately lethal injury, which meant her mad dash for Arris went uninterrupted, which meant -

"Do. Better."

The Sith dug her left heel into the ground, stopped in her tracks, and used that momentum to pivot and launch a lightning-infused kick at the cyborg's head.

 

[Arris Windrun]

Vestra Tane
​

Arris, for all her abilities, could not see Vestra coming. That kick to the cyborg's head landed, tearing through synthflesh like a cleansing fire, and twisted the metal armor wrapped around her skull. That rippling lightning shot straight to the co-processor beneath it.

She gasped as if gaining life for the first time, then screamed through a grimace as her feet planted into the sandy floor.

Then there it was again--that burst of unnatural Dark Side energy washed Arris, then permeated across their arena with an echo of Ruusan. The sensation of countless spectators reveling in the promise of murder.

Before Vestra could ever get away (if she even tried), Arris threw a powerful right hook. A bonebreaker if there ever was one, with the Force behind her swing, aimed recklessly at the woman with no particular target in mind. She just wanted--no, needed, to hit her.

 

[Vestra Tane]

Arris Windrun​

Beneath the comfortable and numbing haze of murder-lust, Vestra noted a cracking sensation in her shin after her kick landed.

Right. Metal. She would've chided herself if survival was a concern, but more interesting was the sudden wave of darkness she felt wash over her. This felt right, invigorating. She allowed herself a moment of self-satisfaction at having successfully instigated as her leg snapped back and -

Incoming punch. Too quick to step away - but sloppy. So Vestra tutted internally, and raised her left arm in half of a shell-guard, then laughed as something in her forearm snapped. Bone jutted out at awful, ugly angles where Arris's fist connected, distending the skin around it, not helped because Vestra stepped in in response, and threw a right straight to the head in a flash of storm-cloaked obsidian.

There was flesh here, something vulnerable, if only she could pry open Arris's metal shell and rip it free.

 

[Arris Windrun]

Vestra Tane
​

The cyborg reached up to grab the Sith's arm with two desperate hands. Clearly, Vestra's target struck a nerve, and Windrun's fear rushed out in a palpable wave of the Force; a cornered beast snapping back. Hell, she even growled--gravelly and robotic--through a tooth-clenched scowl.

Metal fingers squeezed and dug into the arm that dared to reach her, as Vestra's lightning rippled and popped across the metal frame protecting bone, flesh, and something else vulnerable beneath. A tendril of that power licked across her right cyber eye, burning the thousands of tiny artificial receptors that gave her sight, leaving nothing but senseless static in its place.

If her grip held, Arris would swing the woman around and toss her as far away as possible. Then, she'd pick her pistol back up.

 

[Vestra Tane]

Arris Windrun​

Fear and anger and panic. They washed over Vestra like warm water; so self-satisfied was she that she didn't even try to resist when Arris lifted her by the arm and whipped her across the room.

Thankfully, her mastery of her own body meant that she didn't simply flail helplessly through the air; she twisted herself upright and then pushed her momentum down towards the ground, landing boots-first with a dull thunk into the sand.

Another dull crack in her shin. Still irrelevant. She'd push herself around with the Force if she had to.

Immediately, she was on the move again, making another mad dash for Arris. Those guns, though...

Dying was acceptable. But getting popped in the head? No. Too impersonal. Vestra reached out with her left hand and snapped her fingers. The flexing of muscle made the bone jutting from her arm shift a half a centimeter, but more importantly it sent arcs of lightning shrieking towards Arris.

Except that wasn't quite right. The lightning wasn't being directed towards the cyborg - but towards her guns. Full of explosive primer and loaded with big, electromagnetic engines.

 

[Arris Windrun]

Vestra Tane
​

Arris was aiming Vestra down when her lightning arched towards her--no, her weapons! The first bolt ran straight down her barrel, igniting the volatile ammunition within. Thankfully, the superb quality of songsteel meant the weapon didn't blow to pieces, but all that energy had to go somewhere. It vented outward, explosively so, swallowing her hand in incredible force and heat, blowing it to pieces instead. Her weapon, otherwise, fell heavily to the ground.

The cyborg staggered back and had to act fast as a second tendril arched for her revolver's twin. With one good hand, she scrambled to unbuckle her gunbelt and tossed it away. She watched as the bolt twisted towards it, exploding in the air. The shockwave sent Arris flying sideways, tumbling gracelessly across the sandy floor.

When the Triumvir stopped herself on one knee, she snapped a glare at Vestra Tane.

That was it!

Hatred erupted.

All her pent-up anger and dogged rage, her fear and her guilt, her inconsolable and fleshless heart. Bottled since before Coruscant. Hardened and tempered during that invasion. With the inconceivable shame of genocide on her shoulders. The pain bit back, like sharpened words on her needy tongue, felt anytime she shared a room with Mercy . Her guilt and guardian complex for Nilira Vornix , whom she desperately desired forgiveness without begging. And her pathetic, misguided feelings for Kirie , a surrogate of second chances that utterly defeated the point.

It all flooded through her, a second wind of Darkness that deafened the vergence only some kilometers away.

She reached out with her remaining hand, aimed to at once freeze the Sith in place, and force her to reach for that lightsaber at her waist. Vestra may've wanted Arris to kill her with bare fists, but Arris wouldn't allow Vestra to kill her with anything less than that awful, hateful weapon.

Rising to her feet, Arris walked towards her. One. Slow. Step. At a time.

"Is this what you wanted?" Words laced with sadness, and something sicker.

 

[Vestra Tane]

Arris Windrun​

Now, finally, Vestra stopped smiling. Stopped laughing. If there was one thing that brought Vestra low, it was this. This inescapable pressure that now surrounded her, the weight of all WIndrun's hatred, for her and herself and everything else.

It felt like moving through hot tar. Vestra felt the Force tug at her, bind her, compel her to stay still. To stay vulnerable and static. With grit teeth, she managed to take a single step backwards against the Dark Horse's slow approach. She would not be bound; not now, of all times. Not at her apex.

Then, once more against her will, Vestra felt her jet-black hand cross her body and wrap around the cool metal cylinder that was her lightsaber.

A hiss escaped her.

If this was what Arris needed from her, then...

Click. Hum.

With a flourish, the crimson blade sprang to life and Vestra sighed. She raised her arm against the weight of the Dark meant to keep her still, and aimed her blade at the approaching cyborg's throat.

"Is this what you want, Arris?"

She couldn't help but taunt, even when she was trying to be sincere. The grin crept back upon her face.

"I was trying to be fair."

 

[Arris Windrun]

Vestra Tane
​

There was a wave of relief when Vestra ignited the blade, complying with the cybernetic beast's desires.

Her question was met only with a twisted grin and newfound fire in those otherwise lifeless eyes. For now, even if it wouldn't last, Arris wasn't miserable any longer.

"Fair?" Arris snickered at the taunt. "Oh, Vestra..." She tasted that name as it left her tongue. "Haven't you heard?"

Each step stayed deliberate, eager though she may be to close the distance, Arris was savoring the approach. The uncertainty. The brief yet exciting interlude in their violence. Anticipation was often a sour thing, but not here - not now. Every twitch, every ripple of hatred and vanity, was proof of Windrun's existence.

But she had to answer that question hanging in the air.

Haven't you heard?

"I'm unkillable."

If only Mercy were present, the Titan would've finally gotten a fight to match their fateful duel on Ruusan. Instead, it was Vestra who entertained a rare side of Arris unseen since then.

Yes, this was the Dark Horse in the metal.

She stopped, a half-sprint away from Vestra and just stood there with that stupid grin. Practically begging the Sith to rush to her.