Various Methods of Escape

[Sage Bane]

Location: Nar Shaddaa, Refugee Sector​

Rows upon rows of prefabricated containers lined the streets, stacked on top of each other so precariously, the sight would make an architect gasp. Only one year before, these makeshift residences would have been crammed full of human, near-human, and alien families, displaced by galactic war, spilling out of them like a swamp flowing over a levee. The great disappearance had fixed that. With half of the refugees gone, many of the shelters lay abandoned and overrun by opportunists, like glit-biters and thieves. With half of the missionaries gone, the refugees that were left were also woefully unprotected by urban predators such as slavers. Business was booming for the Nar Shaddaa slave trade, since many of the buyers had also lost their "property" in the rapture. Sage Bane, an Acolyte of the Sith had come to Nar Shaddaa to take some of those slavers' superfluous cargo off of their hands.

Tipped off by Sage’s brother, Cryax Bane, President of the Red Ravens Criminal Syndicate and Sith ally, the One Sith got wind that a large group of Force sensitive refugees were being held in some of the containers somewhere in the sector, just waiting to be smuggled out of Nar Shaddaa and taken to a slave fair on Zygerria. It would be a terrible waste of such skilled individuals whose powers could flourish in the ranks of the Sith. Due to his underworld connections and intimate knowledge of Little Coruscant, Sage was tapped to carry out a mission to make sure those slaves ended up in the hands of the Sith. He would be joined by another Acolyte once he got planetside, and both of them would find the slaves and get them to one of the many shadow ports where a One Sith transport would be waiting for them.

The polluted, decaying urban landscape of the Smuggler’s Moon was an unforgiving place for someone fighting addictions. Each time Sage rounded a corner, he felt as if he were faced with a momentous choice. Glitterstim. Ryll. Black hole. Brain jagger. Dreamdust. Every substance imaginable was on display, and the pleasure center of his brain cried out every time he passed a dealer with a treasure trove of spice.

Tuning out the urgent chattering of his cravings, the Acolyte made his way to the coordinates that his partner had been given. He stopped and leaned against a container, which judging by the moaning sounds, contained a prostitute and her john. Sage took a cigarette from the pocket of his duster and lit it, inhaling deeply, an insignificant vice comparatively. It wouldn't be long before his mystery partner arrived, and as his eyes flashed to the many temptations lining the streets, it wouldn't be a moment too soon.

[member="Elensa Jari"]

 

[Elensa Jari]

[member="Sage Bane"]

Location: Nar Shaddaa, Refugee Sector

To be sent to a planet such as this...it felt unclean. Thousands of miles of nothing but durasteel and permacrete, neon signs glistening to provide a sickening artificial glow to nearly all but those few downtrodden areas where the poor resided. People often came here seeking their fortunes, and though many succeeded, there were many more still who ultimately failed in this, their fall silent and unheeded by most as they were forced to subside in areas teeming with lowlife, in a place where life was always of less value than credits. The idea that life might be precious is only true here for those who sell it to make a profit. The thought was disgusting, but there nonetheless. Here, it could hardly be avoided.

Why she had been chosen for this assignment, Elensa did not know. She was recovering well enough from the injuries gained in the tournament she had been so soundly defeated in, the bones in her hand knitted back together, though she still found it hard to grip anything too tightly. The Sith did not believe in the notion of true recuperation: if she could walk, move, function, she was ready to be sent forth on assignment, having to struggle through it as best she could. At least she could still sign - she'd always found it a pain having to try and form the shapes and gestures that constituted her sole form of communication purely with her left - she was right-handed, ultimately, so that was how she preferred to 'talk'. There were still a few letters she couldn't fully form yet, but not many could understand her even if she had been able to, so it didn't make much of a difference.

It did feel ironic, being here: the instructors had specified that Intelligence had reason to believe that slaves were being trafficked from this location, and they wanted it stopped. Interesting, given that the Sith have never had an issue with slavery before. Although many found it distasteful, it was also accepted that it was an effective form of giving purpose to those lower dregs of society unable to find useful employment. And with the Sith, that which is useless dies. Slavery was seen as a merciful alternative to execution: to subject someone to the service of another ensured that they would find use, and similarly be fed, sheltered, clothed, and not be a burden upon the State or the charity of others. Better than throwing them into the local incinerator.

Wandering through the dimly-lit streets that served as the underbelly of Nar Shaddaa's refugee sector, she could feel that quiet sense of despair and desperation that felt so similar to many run-down places she had seen. So far indeed from the affluent home I was raised in, among the nobility of my homeworld. To live in poverty was something near-enough unknown on Hapes: there would always be those who were poorer than the rich, but to subject one's citizens to this...that would be a true crime. The hazy air, shabby buildings, the smells, the filth that pervaded everything...this was not how a civilised society treated it's people.

The bigger issue to Elensa was that the absence of much overt light made it far harder to see than she expected. She'd never been able to function well in the dark, and her quarters had several bright glowlamps installed to allow her to see just fine, but the dank illumination here had reduced her effective visual range quite a bit. Shame, when you consider that in normal daylight, I have pretty good eyesight. She'd managed to navigate to the point close to her rendezvous without too much hassle, but only because her Force-based senses were helpful. How others among my people cope in these conditions, I'll never know.

She hadn't been sent alone, of course: she was to meet another Acolyte here, the two of them to work together. The instructors had emphasised this point - as much as the life of a student among the Sith was about independent thought and seeking to empower oneself, the One Sith could not survive if it's members did not co-operate and work together. And so we are required to work with those we would normally compete with. In truth, Elensa's only concern was that she might end up being paired with another male, someone she'd end up needing to take charge of to stop them blundering through the whole operation. The notion that such thinking might be prejudiced hadn't even crossed her mind. It was an accepted fact on Hapes, and so for the rest of the Galaxy. It could not be otherwise.

Dropping down off one of the containers that made up this makeshift residential area, she braced her knees as she landed, feeling the gentle shock of impact move through her boots and along her legs as she straightened up. Reaching out with her senses, she picked up the slight frissom of energy that suggested the presence of another Force Sensitive, and knew herself to be close. It was a different sensation than anything else she'd experienced, and it was different to that of a latent Force user's presence, too: more controlled, more organised, like the difference between a light that glows with a bright, permanent light and one that flickers on and off in an erratic fashion. She knew she was close simply because the feeling in the back of her mind that said this was no untrained being.

Turning around another container, walking with calm, confident strides, stepping again around another, her deep blues eyes narrowed if only to try and help her navigate through the dim light, she felt herself getting closer to the source, as though the light were getting brighter inside her head, and the intensity more direct. Elensa pressed her hands against one of the containers and used that hold to push herself around the side of a third, sidestepping into someone that, as it turned out, was standing right on the corner, looking around with an obvious restlessness. The collision knocked her off balance for a moment, but she righted herself, taking a few steps backward, then looked across at her accidental assailant.

Brown hair that dropped across his face in straight waves, brushed away to either side, brown eyes of matching hue, thick eyebrows atop pale white skin, a generous mouth...she knew this one. Her own eyes narrowed further, her lips pursing in momentary anger, cheeks flushing slightly, her brows contracting in a silent scowl. Remember him? Oh, yes, I do. How could she have forgotten? He who had broken her hand, tried to slice her in half with their first exchange, had mocked her with his words, both spoken and telepathic, he who had wrapped his audacious hands around her neck and choked her into unconsciousness. It wasn't coincidence: the Sith had done it to her again. Only through suffering and your ability to overcome it do you find strength. Someone would suffer for this, she'd see to it. But at present, her entire consciousness was devoted to but a single angry thought, something in that words would have been even simpler to express:

You!

 

[Sage Bane]

Sage felt a very subtle shifting in the nearby energy signaling an incoming Force signature. In a few minutes, a figure stepped out from behind one of the prefabs, and he instantly recognized the frame of golden hair and graceful swan neck. It was Elensa, the Acolyte he had bested in the Tournament. The irony of the situation was delicious. Some Sith Lord somewhere was obviously snickering his head off. Perhaps this was her punishment for losing to him, or maybe it was a coincidence. He would have bet credits on the former. The deliberate pairing of the two seemed a very Sith thing to do.

Sage moved away from the embarrassing sounds coming from the container behind him and cautiously walked towards Elensa, his hand hovering close to his lightsaber hilt. Her face seethed with anger. Should she be happy to see you? Maybe if you had brought her flowers? Sage’s brows knitted together in some semblance of sympathy. Having had a shared glimpse into her past, he felt an intimate closeness to her. Her life hadn't been easy by any stretch, and if it were anyone else, they would have bonded over their hardships by now. But perhaps because of the damage his ego felt at her belittling him for his gender, he was unconsciously determined to keep poisoning the well.

He knew the sporting thing to do was to congratulate her on how well she fought against him, praise her skill. However, Sage made bad sportsmanship into a minor hobby. He let out a low chuckle that lasted way too long to be amicable, and with a wide grin on his face, made a tsking sound, cigarette smoke curling around his face, caressing it.

“It is said that the mute swan is silent until its death, when it rewards the galaxy with a beautiful song. Too bad I didn't get to hear yours.”

Their mission was off to a rollicking start, wasn’t it?

 

[Elensa Jari]

[member="Sage Bane"]

So you truly wanted to extinguish my life, is that it? she thought, her features forming into a scowl, anger evident in the way her brow furrowed, her eyebrows lowering, the eyes themselves narrowing, her lips tightening. She took a step forward, firmly intent on continuing where the two of them had left off last time, anger surging through her in a way it had not done even during their duel. Even now, you think to mock me? She wondered what mocking words he might have for her if she shoved him bodily through the prefabricated hut wall, perhaps surprising the couple that were clearly engaged in activity within. Perhaps they'll help me kill him, for interrupting their rendezvous. She wanted his end so badly she could practically taste the blood on her lips.

It was this that stopped her cold for a moment, as she paused and came to a stop, still glaring across the short distance that now separated them, but no longer moving with the intent to cause him bodily harm. It felt good, to feel angry again, something she often repressed even though her teachers had told her not to do - it was a strange sensation to her, and one the Masters among the Jedi had often warned her against. Recognising that bloodthirstiness drew her up short as she recognised the dangers they had been quick to caution her again. Yes, perhaps I could kill him, enjoy watching him struggle as death takes him, but I'd be no closer to doing what I've been sent here to accomplish.

The rules that had bound them in the tournament didn't exist here, at least: Elensa knew that either one of them could kill the other if they felt so inclined. There were always punishments awaiting the victor, since to kill another Sith was to harm the Emperor's vision in some fashion, detracting from their strength and harming them all. But out here, death is an accident, the will of the Force made manifest, through no simple fault of our own. If this one died even the most horrible of deaths, who would be able to say with any definitive truth that it was her fault? Nothing I could do to stop it. He simply wouldn't listen to me telling him to be cautious. You should have heard the screams...

Yes, perhaps she would have enjoyed that most of all, listening to him cry his lungs empty as pain and the foreshadow of death crept upon him. Mocking a lady for her silence perhaps warrants such an end, if only for irony's sake. She'd make him pay for it eventually, she was sure on that - not that she could swear a vow to that effect, but speaking was beyond her, and they both knew it. For the moment, she needed him alive - a sad pragmaticism, but there nonetheless. After all, if I kill him now, I might discover that I needed to kill him at a more appropriate time later, and that would be such a shame. Fortunate, perhaps, that the Jedi had always taught the value of patience. It's a weapon any Sith can employ, too.

A short step backwards, the slightest rustling of her skirts giving a clear indication that she would forestall their next battle, for the moment, she continued watching him with her deep blue eyes, expression smoothing out into a more passive, neutral appearance. The anger...she'd hold onto that, but leave it buried nice and deep until she needed it. And when I do, you'll wish you'd not provoked me again, boy, she thought coldly. If anything was likely to annoy her, it was a male deciding to speak to her in the way that he had, lacking any semblance of respect or consideration. So far, the only moment you have done that was in sparing my life before. Perhaps had it not been for the rules, she would have had her life snuffed out of her back there on Coruscant, in that filthy abandoned building. Hardly a dignified end, but I won't forget that either.

Someone is playing a joke on the both of us, she said, the fingers of her left hand moving quickly as she signed out each letter of the words she could not speak aloud. Whether or not he understood her had still not been established between them, but short of writing it down, she had no way to offer him any sign that she was capable of expression beyond merely what her body language could convey. I can't wait for you to be hit by the punchline of it, Elensa continued, a flicker of motion from her hand passing the message between them.

Her eyes flickered down to where his hand hovered at the hilt of his lightsaber, clearly preparing to draw it should she decide to reignite the violence between them. If she'd been able to, she'd have scoffed at that notion, unarmed as she was, but little surprised that he was prepared for battle. So quick to strike at me last time. In truth, she was mildly amazed that her head hadn't already struck the pavement at their feet. Perhaps if you'd been warned I was coming...

We have a job to do, she signalled with her sign language, her eyes returning once more to watch him. Better to look a person in the face than to watch their hand. Their movements can lie, but their expressions aren't capable of it. That much she'd noticed, no longer necessarily able to rely on the nuances of verbal speech the way she had done when she had been young, naive and a Jedi. We can kill each other when it's over, if you still wish to continue this, she finished, lowering her hand back down to her side to signal that she was done speaking, for the moment.

 

[Sage Bane]

Despite the many creases formed on her exquisite forehead, Sage could feel nothing more than annoyance radiating off of the other Acolyte. His ugly provocation hadn’t incensed her the way he had hoped it would. If the Hapan was hiding her anger, it was an enviable skill. Sage had no solid plans to actually kill his former opponent. To do so would probably end him up in some torture dungeon of whatever Sith Lord she called Master. Antagonizing her, though. That was too tempting for him to resist. Ah well, there would be plenty of time to begin the game again once the slaves were confiscated. Right now the two of them had an assignment to carry out.

Sage wasn't the fastest reader of sign language, but he could make out enough to get the gist of what she was trying to say. Taking a long drag off of his cigarette, he shook his head, letting the smoke curl up back through his nose. Then he cocked his head and gave her his best charming grin, one rehearsed from his days of turning tricks on Nar Shaddaa.

“I don’t want to kill you, Elensa.” Sage admitted, inspecting the cigarette, which was quickly becoming a stub. “I only wish to hear you acknowledge that a male bested you. But I gather you’re not going to grant me that wish." A slow jackal's laugh slid from his lips as he continued. "Besides, why would I want to kill such a beautiful creature?”

Sage let out a long sigh, then took a step forward through his halo of smoke, inching closer to her.

“Look, pateesa, that,” Here, he gestured to Elensa’s signing hand. “Is going to get us killed.”

His eyes never leaving hers, Sage crept into her mind, his voice like the brush of a hand over spider’s silk.

Can you speak to me like this? In my mind? If we get separated, it is our only chance for communicating.

Sage inhaled deeply on his dying cigarette and dropped it, crushing it under his boot, then he held out his hand. His words entered her mind again, his tone more insistent.

Speak to me, Elensa.

[member="Elensa Jari"]

 

[Elensa Jari]

[member="Sage Bane"]

The familiarity this one continued to offer her repulsed her somewhat, that quiet sense of intimacy that she had not given him permission to use, to speak to her in this way. He acts as though we were familiar with each other beyond our first hostile encounter, she reflected. She'd long ago learned to be wary of such, especially among the Sith: a hand extended in friendship might simply be used to gain a firm grip prior to striking out to remove your head from your shoulders. Such might breed strength, but it also serves to sew distrust among those who should otherwise be allies. That she, too, felt this way meant that there was good reason for that evident suspicion.

His pride and ego shone through clearly enough. So he wants me to say that he bested me? Had she been able to, she would have scoffed at such a notion, not only because she could not offer him the words he wanted even if she felt so inclined, but also because her defeat was evident in that she had ended unconscious and stuck in the medical bay thereafter, while he had walked away cleanly. Need the one who falls acknowledge their defeat merely to bolster your sense of superiority? It was a strange thing to ask, this need for affirmation. She sensed it had more to do with humiliating her than it did to do with his need to have her acknowledge it. First you would try to take my life, and now my pride. She'd see him burn first.

The way he beckoned to her again, stretching out his hand to bridge the gap between them, his thoughts brushing against her mind with all the casual ease of a shameless intruder - it showed his objectification of her in a way that even the words he had spoken earlier had failed to. He may refer to me as beautiful, but he prefers to think of me as something he can play with at his whim. That impression came through very clearly, that he would act towards her in this way. He beat me once in a straight fight, so now he assumes to think of me as some little conquest. That wouldn't do at all.

His power at least intrigued her, as much as she felt repulsed by him within these first few moments. He had demonstrated it to her before, back there on Coruscant, teasing her, taunting her, seeking to provoke her much the same as he was trying now. He cannot help but try to make me dance to his tune. But to bridge the divide between them with regards to communication...it was an eloquent method that spoke of considerable control. Shallow though his actions can be, there must be something deeper there, for him to capable of this. She did have to wonder where he had learned to do that.

Her time among the Jedi had given her the sense that non-verbal communication on that level was possible - there were moments when she had observed Masters conferring between themselves with barely a word spoken or a gesture flourished. What had passed between them had been hard to comprehend, but she had at least understood that it was possible. When Sage had done the same to her during their fight, she had recognised that it was something tangible, but it had been startling to observe that what had seemed a skill evident of mastery was something an Acolyte might use among her Sith brethren. How...that remains the boldest of questions. Either it required great skill and she had thus underestimated him, or the Jedi were simply hesitant to use their powers in the way that the Sith had always accused them. Perhaps not a question I will ever get an answer to, Elensa reflected.

If my methods get you killed, forgive me if I don't cry any tears, she signed scathingly back at him, her expression still carrying that hint of dark malice that he so easily provoked her to. Perhaps my Jedi self would have been frustrated by that ease of manipulation, but the Sith encourage us to use those feelings as empowerment. Far be it for her to deny her present teachers their prize. Yours are unknown to me. She still wasn't certain he understood, but he talked to her as if he had some sense of what she intended, so perhaps that was sufficient. Besides, I don't particularly think I want him in my mind, whatever he might want.

 

[Sage Bane]

Elensa looked at his hand as if it belonged to a leper, and Sage drew it back with a shrug. He was used to women and men falling at his feet over his good looks, but quickly running away when assaulted by his damaged personality. That was how he liked it. With the exception of one out there in the galaxy who he had let in, and time and time again forgave him for bad behavior, one night stands were as close as most beings got to a partnership with Sage. Then there was the enigmatic relationship between he and his Master. But these were musings for another time.

Sage was so accustomed to the effortless flow of he and Matsu Xiangu’s mental exchanges during his training, he forgot that mentalism was not a skill that every Sith possessed. He supposed hand language would have to do in lieu of better options. Perhaps once the mission were over, he could teach Elensa how to whisper into a mind, provided she would have anything to do with him after this. Her expression told him that a friendship, much less anything else with her would be highly unlikely. But in the absence of vocal chords, mentalism could prove to be a powerful skill for her, and it was bound to be an improvement over her current silent state.

“Suit yourself,” said Sage with a smirk. They were wasting too much time. He looked towards the northwestern quadrant of the Refugee sector.

“According to Sith infochants, the slaves are being held in one of the prefabs to the northwest. Apparently the slavers are planning on using a garbage hauler to get the slaves to the upper sectors where they will be taken to space sport. We are to intercept them. Since the slaves are most likely wearing Force suppression collars, we won’t be able to find them by sensing. That means, we should start by finding the garbage vessel."

Unfortunately the entire refugee sector was crawling with all manner of garbage and disposal vessels. Sage turned towards Elensa, facing her directly so that he could see her hands.

“Unless you have any other ideas?”

[member="Elensa Jari"]

 

[Elensa Jari]

[member="Sage Bane"]

Looking away from Sage for a moment, Elensa narrowed her eyes, absorbing what he had told her. Wearing Force Suppression collars does indeed make our job more difficult, she knew, but as Acolytes, the chances of them being able to distinguish the presence of other Force Sensitives in this mess of living beings was fairly minimal anyway. Perhaps a Master might have had the refinement necessary to pull that off, but they would simply have to rely on good old-fashioned detective work to get the job done. Great - you find our target and I'll interrogate them with my silver tongue, she thought sarcastically. Seems more likely that he'll kill them and leave me to hide the evidence. The way their relationship seemed to be going so far, the Hapan had a fair sense that he was going to leave her in a tight spot at some point.

Much though she hated to admit it, Sage's plan did make sense. Elensa herself would have been tempted to wait at the spaceport, remaining concealed until the shipment of slaves arrived so that they could make their move there, and deal with both those who had imprisoned such beings as well as those who would seek to transport them to whatever horror awaited them next. But if we try that and get it wrong, we'll have no room to maneuver, and will have to report failure. She felt her gut clench at that thought - although Acolytes were given a fair amount of independence, to blunder so badly on a mission assigned to them would not be met well back at the Temple. And the Sith are not so forgiving of mistakes. No, he had the right of it. This time.

She shook her head to indicate a negative, her long blonde hair flowing around her shoulders as she did so - having chosen to eschew her usual veil in order to more effectively fit in on a planet that likely didn't see many Hapan women. It was quicker to communicate with him this way than to try and make him understand what she was signing - in truth, Elensa had a feeling that he only understood the gist of what she was saying, and was probably reading that based on the emotional energies that she was projecting through the Force. After all, if he could sign, he would have responded in kind by now, she suspected. There's no point learning how and then not bothering to use it when with someone who can only communicate that way. They'd just have to carry on regardless. Maybe at some point I should just write it down for him.

A shooing gesture followed, as if to suggest that he ought to lead the way. Since she wasn't likely to be able to tell him to do anything, it was probably easier if she just let him go first. And that way I don't have to worry about a lightsaber in the back at an inopportune moment. Given that Elensa's own weapon was still abandoned somewhere back on Coruscant, the chances of her doing the same to him were minimal - she'd have to steal his and slice him into pieces pretty quick to pull that off. And it can wait for the time being. No doubt Sage would give her reason to want to beat him into a pulp later, but for the moment, she simply wanted him where she could see him.

That way, if we do run into trouble, at least his corpse will give me some warning. The Sith were nothing if not pragmatists.

 

[Sage Bane]

Without a word, Sage covered his head with the hood of his cloak, and was off, stalking down the shelter rows, as if he could care less whether or not Elensa followed him. If they couldn't find the slaves by sensing their own signatures, perhaps they could search out their malicious intent through disturbances in the Force. The problem was, who on Nar Shaddaa didn’t have malicious intent? Still, in the absence of any other ideas, Sage decided to give it the old college try. He branched out with his dark side powers, attempting to detect a glimmer of a predatory aura, but his search turned up too many disturbances to be of any use. Just as he suspected, Nar Shaddaa was chock full of very bad people. Which reminded him…

What familiar very bad person knew the criminal underworld of Nar Shaddaa like the back of his hand? He stopped suddenly, and turned back towards Elensa.

“In here, darling,” ordered Sage as he ducked into one of the open prefabs. The interior was pitch black and smelled like it had once contained a gutted Bantha. Sage rolled up his sleeve where a Browncoat Datalogger was strapped to his wrist, its blue light illuminating the abandoned container. The furnishings were sad and sparse, a few chairs, a pile of clothing, an empty packet of rations. Thankfully no signs of life.

"Are you coming or not?" he said gruffly, his eyes fixed on his device.

Sage punched in a number on his Datalogger. As the brothers had a tense relationship, Force knew if the Chiss would actually pick up or not, but if anyone had some clues about the identities of these slavers, it would be his brother.

[member="Elensa Jari"]

 

[Elensa Jari]

[member="Sage Bane"]

Following quickly, barely making a sound beyond the soft rustle of the fabric of her long skirt whispering around her ankles, Elensa did her best to keep up with the other Acolyte, noting the feral quality of his movements and the predatory nature of each step. He'd hidden his face by concealing it within the shadows of his hood, and with such an action, she could no longer properly read his expression and thus had little insight into his feelings or thoughts, beyond what little she could sense through the Force. It was hard to pick up a reading here: the whole planet boiled with seething emotional energies, some subtle and insidious, others more overt and startling. How can you hear a whisper in a room where everyone is shouting, even with that person standing next to you? No doubt Sage had a better grasp of that, too - clearly, she still had much to learn before she could consider herself his equal, much though that thought annoyed her.

Hardly surprising, then, when he started giving her instructions, though the diminutive nicknake he offered her in doing so made her want to beat him within an inch of his life and then send him the rest of the way. He's so...familiar. It was frustrating - what right did he have to act this way towards her, this male who assumed himself her superior because he had been longer among the Sith? Of what breeding do you come, that you can treat me this way? On Hapes, his attitude would have gotten him killed or at least severely punished. Perhaps someone would stick a shock collar on him and spend a few weeks putting him into his proper place. That tempted her sorely.

She stepped into the prefabricated dwelling, quickly noting the darkness of the interior and recognising just as quickly that she had allowed herself to be disadvantaged again - her people had very low-level vision within dim light, and with so little within this place, she was effectively blind. He likes to do this, put me in vulnerable positions. It was frustrating to say the least, but perhaps it had been unintentional. How can I assume to fathom what goes on in his head when I'm not entirely sure that he knows? He did tend towards the erratic at moments, so it was hard to be sure.

The darkness was something she was, now that she was becoming accustomed to it, rather pleased by. The smell could have gagged a Rancor, and she frankly didn't want to know what the source of such a stench was. You really can't get much further away from home than this. She found herself hesitant to move further inside beyond the doorway, purely because she had a sneaky feeling that she'd end up stepping in something and ruining her outfit. No doubt he would enjoy that, but I don't plan to offer him such satisfaction.

A sudden light source activated within, illuminating the interior with a soft blue light that rather startled her by the speed of it's appearance. She blinked rapidly a few times to allow her eyes to adjust to it, gazing dispassionately around the poorly-furnished room. You take me to the nicest places, she thought, watching Sage play around with some device he had strapped onto his wrist. It's as good a place as any to dump your body. In truth, she wondered what exactly he was doing. This isn't what you said we were to do earlier. He really was the most frustrating person she'd ever met.

 

[Sage Bane]

Out of his peripheral vision Sage could plainly see Elensa’s icy glare as she watched him make the Holocall. Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m not going to try anything funny. I have better taste than to try and seduce you in a place like this.

To his surprise, a tiny blue hologram of a glowing eyed person flickered out from the device on his wrist. The call was actually answered. Would miracles never cease? The man in the Holo was a spitting image of Sage and other than the glimmering orbs, darker skin, and a shorter, spikier haircut, it would have been hard to tell the two men apart.

“What?” immediately barked Sage’s half-brother, the infamous Nar Shaddaa crime lord, Cryax Bane when he saw who had placed the call.

“Good afternoon to you too, brother,” said the half-Chiss with a sardonic smirk. There was obviously no love lost there. “Always a pleasure to…”

The younger Bane was crisply cut off by the elder. “I don’t have alot of time, Sage, so if you’d kindly get to the point?”

This is where normally Sage would simply hang up, but since he needed pertinent information from the exasperating Chiss in question, he checked that behavior. Stifling a curse, he continued.

“Slavers making a pickup today in the Refugee Sector. Got any leads on ‘em?”

“You’ll have to be more specific. The Refugee Sector’s lousy with slavers, genius.”

“Force sensitives?”

The Chiss let out an impatient sigh, clearly as eager to end the conversation as Sage was. Then the crime lord nodded.

“Ah, them. Their leader is a Hutt by the name of Zubla. Some people call him the Bug Slug because he travels with Verpine assassins. Follow the silver trail. And Sage. You didn’t hear this from me.”

Before Sage could say another word, the Holo ended with a flicker, engulfing the room in murky shadows. “Blue queen,” he muttered.

Rubbing his chin, Sage turned his attention back to Elensa, using the light on his Datalogger to inspect her outfit for a moment. The lightly armored clothes he wore under his cloak were typical smuggler street wear, so his looks wouldn’t raise an eyebrow. However, in her long feminine dress, Elensa hardly fit in with all the other Nar Shaddaa strumpets. If the dress were a bit more worn or stained, she could pass for a refugee perhaps, but he doubted that she’d let him dirty her up, and he wasn’t much in the mood for a kick in the groin. Finally he decided on pulling off his black hooded cloak and wrapping it around her.

“Wear this,” he insisted. “Now you don’t stick out like a sore thumb.” He looked at her for a moment, appraising her, and then gently reached out to brush a strand of hair out of her face. Whether or not she would let him complete the tender gesture, remained to be seen.

Boundaries? What were those?

[member="Elensa Jari"]

 

[Elensa Jari]

[member="Sage Bane"]

Watching the conversation between her unwanted companion and the one he referred to as 'brother', Elensa had to smile faintly at the knowledge that she wasn't the only one who had a problem with Sage: clearly this person represented as a small blue hologram did, too. They looked fairly similar, but there wasn't necessarily sufficient detail for her to be able to pick out a better idea of those similarities - not that she cared. Though it would be nice to know if I'm likely to have someone else chasing me down when I finally kill this one. It was amazing how picky family could be when you were out to kill off their relatives.

She listened to the discussion in her usual silence, blue eyes unblinking as the Hapan stared, observing it unfold. So our target is a Hutt surrounded by Verpine? That was interesting, certainly. She wasn't particularly fond of Hutts or bugs, but of the two, the Verpine were likely to present the biggest problem. The insectoid race were reknowned for producing some of the Galaxy's best weapons technology, and a very small minority were considered reputable for their ability to use them effectively in ushering in the demise of a target. If such beings work for a Hutt, they are likely very, very good at their role, and are being paid a significant amount to remove any obstacles. Those weren't the kind of beings likely to move off if they were approached by two Sith. Especially since one of us is unarmed.

Sage removing his outer robe and wrapping it around her startled her for a moment, and she was extremely tempted to smack him for his audacity in touching her once again - something he was slowly turning into a habit. Why does he keep insisting on acting like this? Elensa was tempted to remove the garment and toss it onto the floor at his feet as a form of defiance, but she halted herself only because he had a reason for it beyond just wanting to keep her warm. Not that I was cold to begin with, she reflected with a soft sigh. Wanting to keep me concealed make sense, but there are alternatives. She didn't like that the heavy fabric of the cloak still carried some of his body warmth with it.

A wave of her hand dismissed the moment as irrelevant - she was adding it to her list, of course, but the retribution she felt inclined to visit upon him would have to wait, preferably until after their job was done and even more preferably until she could find a way to dispose of him without causing a fuss among the other Sith. After all, murder of another Acolyte is still treated seriously by the Lords. Wanting it was irrelevant - it was expected that the nature of their training would stir up animosities, but it was expected that these be kept to a respectable minimum. Offer violence if they offend, but never presume to kill one who may yet serve the Emperor's vision. In truth, that was the only reason she had held back this long.

So what now?, she asked, a blonde eyebrow raised in query, her fingers flickering the question at him, in her usual manner. Now that he'd had chance to play dress-up and find out a little about their quarry, they needed a plan of attack beyond simply 'go forth and kill everybody'. Some Sith would no doubt have been satisfied with that level of planning, but it wasn't likely to achieve their goal. We're here to find others of our kind and bring them to the Sith, not to kill because we can. Do we go directly to the Hutt, or do we craft a trap?

Either way suited her just fine. It was the first thing all Sith learned: adaptation was the key to strength. She'd adjust to whatever he had in mind, unless it was stupid. In which case she couldn't tell him so, but would try and figure out a means of communicating the point, in as subtle a fashion she could find short of bludgeoning him with a heavy object.

 

[Sage Bane]

“Easy, leeah bo. I have a plan,” Sage assuaged, reaching into his pocket for something. “You’re not going to like it very much, but just you’re going to have to trust me, ok?” He looked into her eyes and met her irritated gaze for a moment, his brows knitted together with gentle concern for her. Then, he reached forward and took her arm, snapping a servo-cuff on her wrist. Sage quickly moved around to fasten it to the other one, securing both arms behind her back.

“These cuffs aren’t made with Force suppression technology,” he explained. “So if things happen to go South, you can break them,” Sinking his fingers into her flesh, he took her by the arm and led her out of the makeshift shelter and onto the street. “Just play along,” he whispered, his hand still tightly gripping her arm.

Sage pulled Elensa roughly along, making a good show of his ruse as a slaver. Then he methodically began to question some of the other more criminal-looking elements of the Refugee sector. His fluency in Huttese raised no eyebrows among the locals.

“Bla peee jee koee boonowa Zubla baa shipment? Jee yoieu andoba bo che jen. Ritke mesohba kava bmaleoi ua doth.”

A purple-skinned rodian with large eggplant eyes pointed to a group of prefabs about a quarter of a mile away. Sage slipped the man a few credits and yanked on Elensa’s arm, dragging his “quarry” so forcefully, it made her stumble. The Rodian snickered, and Sage exchanged a devious smile with the humanoid, then headed in the direction of Zubla’s gang.

Drawing closer, Sage felt the hair on his neck bristle when he heard a booming voice belligerently hemming and hawing in Huttese. His guess was that they were getting closer to the slug and his minions. His intense hatred for the creatures welled up inside of him so ferociously, the waves of the dark side choked the air around he and his captive.

[member="Elensa Jari"]

 

[Elensa Jari]

[member="Sage Bane"] asking her to trust him was tantamount to turning your back on a hungry Rancor and expecting it not to eat you, as far as Elensa was concerned, and she wasn't in the mood to get torn to shreds, which was probably the outcome of doing whatever it was he wanted of her this time. Frankly, I liked it better when I knew he was trying to kill me. I didn't have to worry about it. Now that he was, well, trying to be nice, she didn't know what to make of him. As a Jedi, perhaps she might have understood that he was trying to make amends, and work with her, but she knew that such was not the Sith way. Even if he's not going to stab me in the back immediately, that's no guarantee that he won't work against my interests or manipulate me into a bad position. At this point, she could very much see that being the case.

Grabbed and locked into the first servo-cuff, she made to struggle against him for a moment, but he moved too quickly, and had her other wrist snapped into the partner cuff before she could properly respond. She glared at him with her usual silent fury, feeling violated beyond belief. Nobody had ever been allowed to manhandle her in such a fashion - it simply wasn't done to lay hands on a Hapan noblewoman without her permission, but to then be locked in cuffs like chattel...that was just something that did not happen. It was an offense to her dignity, her status and, frankly, for a man to even think about it... On Hapes, someone would have restrained and shot him by now, provided they weren't thinking of a more severe punishment. Not that any man would ever have considered trying it. She honestly couldn't fathom it.

Restrained as she was, she couldn't even sign at him, so her sole expression of the anger she felt remained locked within her expression and the way she tensed as he grabbed her arm in that rough, possessive fashion he seemed to have mastered. It was hard to keep up with him when she was bound like this, and she felt her feet get caught in the skirts of her dress a few times as they walked, but the iron grip Sage had of her arm prevented her from falling. Much though I'd like him to stop so I can kick him to death. She knew what he was doing, though, and made certain to keep her eyes downcast when they approached people, so that they wouldn't think that she was capable of any resistance. That'll come when I take these cuffs off and teach him a good lesson in manners. The bruises she was certain were forming beneath his rough grip were just going to be the start of what she had in mind for him.

The fact that he could speak Huttese so fluently did surprise her, although on reflection, she wasn't sure why - he was, of course, more than capable of communicating far better than she ever could. Learned Huttese, but didn't bother with GSL, did you?, she thought sourly, reflecting on the fact that he could clearly understand these aliens better than he did her. It was yet another act on his part that just outright annoyed her. Which he seems to be doing a lot of. Truth be told, she didn't know why she let him get under her skin so much - nor why she kept putting up with it. The pet names, the way he had the audacity to touch her without even asking, the way he kept putting her in these positions and thinking nothing of it. In terms you'd understand, when this is over, we're going to have words! And since she couldn't speak, he wasn't going to find that very pleasant.

It was ironic that he waved her to silence when they closed in on those prefabs. The Acolyte felt very tempted to roll her eyes, but he obviously wasn't thinking of the effect on her - his attentions were clearly elsewhere, judging by the way his eyes were distant, at least as much as she could tell in the awkward position he'd pushed her into. She, too, heard the loud voices, all speaking in a dialect she had no understanding of. Give me Hapan, or even Basic, and I've got it... She'd not been raised to recognise the throaty, coarse language that her companion both understood and could speak, so she had no idea what was being said. The response he gave to it...that she could understand.

It started as a moment of intense pain as his hand gripped the flesh of her arm a little tighter, as if he were angry with her. She felt her arm go a little numb, knew that his fingers had imprinted her flesh with ugly marks, but sensed more than that: he was practically shouting his feelings through the Force. This close, she could sense a deep hatred, more than anything he'd projected towards her before, anger bordering on rage, a flame being fanned into an inferno, a darkness deepening in the way a candle might flicker out and then suddenly cease all illumination, plunging them into black deeper than any night. It struck against her in a wave, and it was evocative, this call to fury: she felt it, sensed it touch her and kindle the anger within her slender frame: annoyance at this man dealing with her as he had; indignation of being handled like a sack of fruit; displeasure at being used as a slave in his absurd pretense; and true outrage at the fact that he was dumping all of his emotions on her, stood as she was in such close proximity.

Threatening to drown in it, succumb to those base feelings, that simple desire to break free of her restraints and then break him...it was a hard thing to resist, that sublime temptation that sang to her like a gentle lullaby, tinged with red rage. The Jedi had spoken of this as the most dangerous of moments, and it would be if she decided to loosen herself from his grip, but not for her. The Sith said to let it touch you, to tap into it and weave it into your soul, so that you might grasp at the Force more fully and unleash it on your enemies without a merciful thought to sully that dark purity. But I am not a child of that darkness, not even though he pushes me that way, she thought. Sorrow had ever been her song, remembering intense pain and anguish as her world was swept aside. I cannot let his anger be mine. That can wait for another time.

She inhaled a deep breath, slightly tremulous as the grip on her arm remained so agonising, allowing that practiced ritual to calm her a little, to let her gather her thoughts. It wasn't normal for a Sith to do this, she knew that, but Elensa wasn't purely Sith, and not as well trained as her companion. It takes trust to sink beneath your emotions without knowing if you'll ever again come up for air. She could not do that yet - to her, control was more important than allowing temptation to take her. Calm yourself now, boy, she thought in a soothing fashion, though doubtful he would sense any of it. Sing your song when the times is right. Don't let go now!

 

[Sage Bane]

Gathered in front of the large container that Sage hoped contained the Force sensitive captives, was the large, slimy gastropod and his minions. His long tail vibrating with irritation, Zubla the Hutt floated around on an enormous gold hover sled. Huge puffs of smoke from Zubla’s massive hookah pipe choked the air surround the hover sled, causing the antennae of the Verpine assassins to twitch in discomfort. Despite his glazed feline eyes, Zubla was obviously a very unhappy slug. Sage counted about eight of the Verpine, armed with blasters and stun nets. Along with the Verpine, Zubla was accompanied by a right hand man, a pink-skinned, dead-eyed Chagrian in a leather trenchcoat. The Chagrian was the humanoid to approach, sensed Sage. It was doubtful that Zubla would let most deal with him directly when he could pay someone else. Growing up on Nal Hutta had given Sage plenty of exposure to the ways of the Hutts and their obsequious henchman. More than one man could stomach.

Zubla let out one more long stream of staccaco Huttese curses at his men, most of it directed towards his right hand who seemed miserably resigned to it. “The garbage vessel is late,” translated Sage in a whisper, his heart thumping loudly, body still brimming with dark sided hatred for the Hutt. He turned to look at Elensa to gauge how she was faring, and saw that her face was etched with loathing. Ah, so she hated Hutts too. Well, they certainly had that in common!

“Ready to put on a show, darling?” he asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. Sage simply dragged Elensa over to the Hutt and his entourage, making a beeline for the Chagrian. For Elensa’s benefit, he spoke in Basic.

“Hey, you the ones with the special shipment?” he asked the Chagrian. "Special" was obviously the code word the slavers used for Force sensitives.

The Chagrian nodded with a grunt.

“You forgot one,” said Sage. “Found her hiding back there.” He hooked his thumb towards a row of nearby prefabs.

The Chagrain began to take Elensa in his greasy mitts, and Sage placed his hand on the larger man’s chest, stopping him.

“Credits first, lhonu boua.”

Sage kept his eyes glued on Zubla's right-hand man. If all went according to plan, there would be plenty of time to put his hatred to good use, but even to look at the Hutt at this stage was to risk a complete failure of self-control.

[member="Elensa Jari"]

 

[Elensa Jari]

[member="Sage Bane"]

Just moments away now, Elensa thought, closing her eyes as the Chagrian reached for her, noting as she did so that Sage did not relinquish his own grip, clearly not inclined to give her up until he was satisfied that their ruse had worked. It was a dangerous game to be playing, she knew: it presumed incompetence on the part of the Hutt and his hired thugs, suggested to them that perhaps they had missed something so obvious as another Force Sensitive hiding in a corner, simply waiting for them to leave so that she might escape. And as true as that might be, would they be so welcoming of a man who has recognised their foolishness? Very few beings liked that sort of negligence being pointed out, particularly by a stranger who had done what they had not.

Still, she had to admit that Sage had chosen an interesting approach. Perhaps I could let them take me, add me to the number they have already constrained, and break out when the time is right. She could, of course: very few bonds could hold a Force User in control of their abilities, and Elensa had sufficient years of study behind her that she knew full well that she could break bonds, shatter a cell door, incapacitate the guards without needing to use a lightsaber. But if they have any sense, they'll replace these cuffs with ones of their own design, of the kind that might dampen my ability to touch the Force. If they did that, she'd be just as helpless as those poor victims that they had come to release and recruit to the Sith cause. And this would all be for nothing.

There was more to it than that, though: not only that whisper of concern, but also the knowledge that Sage would once again have control over her fate, and would likely enjoy seeing her continued to be humbled in the manner upon which he had already embarked. Fake though our ruse is, it would become real enough if they were to block my powers and leave me like themselves. Bereft of the Force, she would not even have the ability to respond to any later violence or indignity that her 'partner' might yet decide upon. And I cannot trust him to have my interests at heart. No, he would do what most Sith did: take advantage of an opportunity should it come his way. She could not expect that he might act to help her. Once the decision was made, it would be with utter finality.

That was as far as she'd gotten in her planning, so far. Either Sage and the Hutt would come to terms, and she would pass into possession of such a vile creature, to be perhaps taken and placed with the other Force Sensitives it had acquired, or perhaps their fight would start now. Perhaps if that Chagrian touches me, I'll break my bonds and break it's neck into the bargain. A few centimeters closer and she'd have him. She knew that with strong certainty. But would I be placing whatever plan Sage has at risk if I act so soon? As much as she hated to be subject to his whim, she was not wholly certain what he expected her to do, absent an overt signal. So for his plan to succeed, perhaps I must do nothing. That was a disconcerting thought to say the least.

All power stems from sacrifice, she thought calmly, coldly, in that calculating fashion she often employed. Perhaps it will be yours that grows from this, Sage, or perhaps the Hutt will have us both. She had to hope sincerely that they had no way of detecting Force Users beyond an examination. If even one of them serves to aid these fools, our ruse will go up in flames before we have a chance to make our move. The idea of seeing Sage in chains was one she would have found herself appreciating, were it not for the notion that she would be similarly bound if that came to pass. And you have only a few moments before I break free of these bonds and make them pay for the necessity of it.

 

[Sage Bane]

The most useful thing about your average, run-of-the mill, Nar Shaddaa goon, Verpine or not, was an inherent weakness of the mind. It was the very same trait that made the men order-takers rather than leaders, and it was ridiculously exploitable for a budding illusionist. Sage could almost feel their soft grey matter yield to him as he began to craft illusions born from Sith magic. Matsu Xiangu had taught him well. His lips parted, moving quickly and surreptitiously as he chanted a few words of the incantation in a whisper. To complete the spell, his hands wove shapes in front of him, thin fingers forming ancient symbols, one after the other.

The Chagrian and Verpine would see the figure of Sage metamorphise. His limbs lengthened and stretched, torso shedding its clothing and melting into an expansive mountain of pink flesh. Arms and legs that were once recognizable as human to bend into insectoid shapes, hands and feet forming points on which the creature balanced and skittered. An enormous maw erupted from the middle of Sage’s new body, and from bloody gums sprouted rows after rows of long yellow teeth, razor sharp and snapping. The creature grew to the size of Zubla himself and snaked a long red tongue towards the henchmen with an unholy growl.

Thankfully, Elensa would not be privy to the sight of Sage’s new body, but she would see the Chagrain and Verpine underlings’ eyes widen in fear. The henchmen began to back away from Zubla the Hutt's hoversled and soon they scattered in different directions, falling over one another in fright.

The Hutt would be immune to the mind tricks, of course, and would simply blink its large feline eyes in consternation. Elensa and Sage would have to dispose of Zubla on their own, not an easy task due to the toughness of his hide and the sheer size and strength of the creature.

Elensa would feel a squeeze on her arm, as Sage’s words snaked into her head.

Elensa. Break those bonds. Now.

And get ready to fight.

[member="Elensa Jari"]