Wham Bam

[Delaney Wilder]

TASH-TARAL​

​

This place was giving him the creeps.

Ancient Sith ruin.

About two clicks underground and the only light that he currently had was the dim shoulder-mounted flash he got from that village up North a while back. It was dry, his arse was itchy and ten minutes ago a spider jumped on his head. It was dead now. But so was he almost with the way his heart was still pumping overtime.

"Why's t' always gotta be sith ruins?" Jack mumbled while squinting at the three corridors leading from this crossway. They all looked fething the same to him.

He had tracked this ugly piece of work here- clawdite and a nasty one.

Ran up a body count all across the Core, until (s)he karked with the wrong one. Some kind of robber baron from the Seventh Quadrant on Coruscant, apparently they had offed his favorite hairdresser while gunning for him. Jack had been tracking them for two weeks now, had 'em about four times now.

Trail was getting thinner by the day, butt then he'd tracked them to this place.

Why sith ruins? That- was... was that whistling? Came off the corridor to his left. That couldn't be the clawdite, could it? They had to be smarter than that.

A few moments later he looked around the corner of a doorway and saw someone crouching by a piece of crumbling wall.

Lady.

Still whistling.

"Ya 'aven't seen a weird alien running 'round these parts, 'ave ya?" Jack drawled before holstering his revolver and stepping around into view for her. "Mug like an arse turned inside out with scales."

[member="Tryp West"]​

 

[Tryp West]

She heard him before she saw him. He wasn't exactly being quiet like, but then, neither was she. Gloves tucked into her belt, Tryp was crouched on the balls of her feet, sifting carefully through the rubble of a half collapsed room. It had been a private study at some point in the distant past, and she was slowly piecing together something. The same sentient had worked here for some number of years, before whatever misfortune had befallen her, and the room was rife with well handled artifacts. Already, she was slowly starting to pick out the main melody. That was what she was whistling as he rounded the corner, and she didn't stop immediately to answer his query, letting the last few notes leave her lips as they were meant to. If she had cut them off there, she might never have retrieved them from the ether, after all.

"Naw," she huffed, tipping back slightly, her hand steadying her from behind as she tilted her head back to look up at him. "T'ain't nobody dat ugly come runnin' through 'ere. I 'eard some sorta ruckus- tink it was from da old lift system- headin' down. What time is it?"

It might have seemed like a segue, but she checked her chrono. Blinked and rubbed her eyes with the back of her other hand, and then put the piece away.

"Coupl'a 'ours back. Dinna realize 'ow long I'd been working," she said, standing up slowly. She stretched, groaning slightly at the symphony of cracks and pops that sounded from her spine and knees- indicative of just how long she'd been crouched like that. Putting both hands at the small of her back, she shifted, stretching out, her hips pushed forward and spine curved back- which brought about a particularly painful sounding crack, but relief flooded her face and she gave an appreciative murmur. Tilting her head to crack her neck, she looked him up and down.

"Weird seein'.... or 'earing in dat case, two folks down 'ere. What brings ya down?"

Samson was in the nearest town, touching base with.... whomever he touched base with, she hadn't asked. Seemed like her world was getting down right crowded lately.

[member="Jackson Singh"]

 

[Delaney Wilder]

[member="Tryp West"]

Business like this you had to trust your gut.

This wasn't the clawdite.

Why not?

For one, that one wouldn't have been whistling and pouring all attention to himself in the middle of a creepy sith ruin. There had been three passage ways and any one of them could have led Jack to impending doom. Second- it was the vibe he got off of her. She tasted like clean sand, worn scrolls and the bright chime of a church bell at the top of the hill that carried for miles.

Distant in the way of the scenery and with the interest of someone passing by... not at all invested.

You could fake surface-side emotions, but you couldn't fake who you were inside. Not even the clawdite would have figured that one out and that was why Jack could track him down over and over again, no matter what face they were wearing.

"Hours?" Chit. That could put him anywhere depending on what was happening even further downwards. "Huntin'." Head tilted as the curiosity inside of her shifted, mixed with something of... caution. But not panic or alarm. "Bastard been leaving corpses 'cross the Coreworlds. Gonna take him in, see he gets his due." Alive if possible. Jack didn't like taking in corpses.

He wasn't the executioner.

He was just the hunter.

"Gonna be interestin' tracking him down there... thankya for the assist, ma'am, 'preciate it."

 

[Tryp West]

Tryp first instinct was to throw him a salute, wish him luck, and go back to what she was doing. She considered herself a decent sort of person. Injustice mattered, but she wasn't a hero- it wasn't her job to right wrongs, that was for other people, like this one right here. Oh, when the right thing came across her path, she'd never turned away from it, and she treated the people who crossed it decent, cause what was the point of doing anything else? Cost her a lot less to be good than anything else, and she's been raised to lend a hand to someone looking to climb out of a hole. But she had her own business to attend to and this simply didn't qualify.

And yet she found herself shaking her head.

"Lemme at least show ya where I t'ink 'e went down," she said, brushing dust off of her jacket in a futile attempt at, well, anything really. "You'll end up goin' in circles fer de rest o' da day otherwise. Dey call me Tryp, Tryp West. You gotta name?"

Bending down to retrieve her gun belt (too heavy with the twin slugthrowers to crouch like she had been comfortably for so long) she buckled it back on before snagging the lantern and holding it aloft.

"Gotta backtrack to the three way ya passed ter get 'er, but der's more cuts, and the sounds bounce 'round down right weird in dis place."

She didn't ask if he wanted the help, just set off. He'd follow. She couldn't assume his reasoning or how he'd justify it, but he'd follow.

Backtracking and then heading down the far pathway, Tryp had clearly been correct. Taking this path then the next one, switch backing down a ledge that from the top looked unfit for travel down to the passage that wasn't even visible from the top- finding the place, even with detailed directions, would have been a nightmare.

"Two o' da paths double back on demselves," she muttered, shooting a look of annoyance at one of them in question. "But ya can't even tell cause o' de way de wall tilts until it drops ya back at the beginning."

She walked with one hand on the right wall, finger tips sliding along it. The motion seemed habitual rather than deliberate, and she barely seemed to notice herself that she was doing it.

[member="Jackson Singh"]

 

[Delaney Wilder]

[member="Tryp West"]

"Jackson Singh, pleasure makin' ya acquaintance, miss West." Shame he had left his hat back at his ship, otherwise he would have made a short bow like he was prone to do. Instead Jack saluted, index and middle finger gesturing up from his brow. Just as a beginning, because the next line would have been less than forthcoming. "But I don't wanna be a botha-" She already rose up and was walking. The bounty hunter blinked and followed her tread with his eyes as she brushed by and kept on walking.

"She already walkin'." More to himself than anyone else really, especially because she was already out of the door and into the hallway. "Kay. She actually left me 'ere."

He scratched his head, before rushing off to catch up with her.

"I ain't used to folk going outta their way to lend a hand or two, ma'am." By way of an explanation perhaps. It was the truth though- he had been doing this for a few years now and this was the first time that anyone bothered to help him while he was bringing down fethers like these. "Much appreciated, 'course." They walked in silence after that, his hand resting easily on the stock of his revolver while eyeing the corridors with renewed scrutiny.

It became clear soon enough just how helpful Tryp actually was.

He wouldn't have been able to do this without her help for sure. "Ya know ya can get tinnitus from strokin' dat wall so much, yah?" Jack didn't know she was one of those hoodoo magicka people who could read crap off something just by touchin', 'course.

 

[Tryp West]

"T'ain't outta my way, not really, Jack," she said with a smile. ""asides, if'n I dun 'elp ya now I'll jes be stuck listenin' ta ya bumpin' 'round in da dark fer de next coupla 'ours an' dat would not 'elp me get mah work dun."

It was a joke, but also true. Good enough excuse to down play that she was helping him because it was the right thing to do. Tryp didn't play games, but she also didn't really care over much about being thanked for what, in her opinion, was just common decency.

She looked over her shoulder at him, clearly baffled a moment later though.

"Tinnitus? Ain't dat when yer ears ring? I mean sure poppa said dat to the youngin's but I dun t'ink it were walls 'e was warnin' em not ta stroke."

They reached the old lift site-

"'Course de electronics are long dead," she said, lifting the lantern high. "Jes a glorified shaft down ta da lower levels. But der's a ladder on da back wall, see-"

She'd been moving toward the lift to show him- after all, she'd been through this area only the day before and knew that it was safe-

Of course, neither had been counting on the explosive set to go off with proximity as someone approached the shaft. A particular gift to a particular bounty hunter.

If her hand hadn't been reflexively reaching to touch the old panel, she never would have known in time. Instead there was a flash- an all too fresh memory- clear as a bell rung in empty skies- and Tryp's eyes widened.

It all happened in a fraction of a heartbeat. Her foot entered the activation zone just as her hand touched the panel. There was a delay, so that the person walking would get the full brunt of the explosion. But with the flash of foreknowledge she was able to throw herself back and into Jackson, pushing him down and covering both of their heads right before the explosion rocked the corridor.

It had been small- ish. Just enough to splatter a person and do some damage, but not enough to collapse the underground tunnels *or* the lift shaft. He hadn't wanted to trap himself here after all.

"Dirty karkin' chutta!"

[member="Jackson Singh"]

 

[Delaney Wilder]

[member="Tryp West"]

"Nah, that's Tennetus with an eee." Jack responded with all the confidence of the ignorant and without skipping a beat. Mighta been a joke, might be he was serious, you couldn't really know unless you knew him. Which was a tall order when you were only talking for about five minutes. "I know dis, cus I got it." The ringing, the pain, the inability to actually hear anything, it had been with him for close to a decade now.

It wasn't something Jack was particularly concerned about though.

For the most part the cybernetics fixed it.

Kept the ringing to a minimum, made sure he could actually hear and the things he did miss? Well, lip-reading usually got him the extra parsec. Jack didn't offer another thanks though.

He felt her on some level. "Yeah, hold up a sec, lemme che-" Didn't get a chance to finish that sentence. Not when the curse suddenly rolled out her lips and then she leaped back, taking him with her to the ground and covering both of them. The explosion was almost simultaneous and it hurt. The sudden outburst of sound overloading the cybernetics for a moment, instead allowing the piercing screeeeeeeeeech to penetrate his brain again.

"Chit." His arms wrapped around her back instinctively, protecting her as best as he could. "Karking hell."

Slowly Jack let go of her, head tilting back to the ground. "I dunno 'ow ya did ...that, but feth. Thanks."

 

[Tryp West]

"Bet dat was a picnic fer yer tennetus."

They helped each other up, Tryp not answering his query right away as she tentatively got closer again, reaching out to stroke the panel from a slightly safer distance.

"Jes' one," she confirmed a second later, shoulders visibly relaxing as she turned back to look at him. "Got the feel o' it when I touched dis 'afore is all. Da memory was too.... new. Real shiny like. Ye got yer tennetus an' I got psychometry. I got da better deal doh. Kin read memories offa objects. Good t'ing I dinnae put da gloves back on."

She eyed the ladder on the back wall- looked in tact from here. There was no longer any doubt about helping him. Now it was kind of personal, after all. Not to mention the chutta had been willing to blow up historical artifacts! The fact that he hadn't was irrelevant, but it was just pretty rude and irresponsible as far as Trype was concerned.

"Got somet'in ta 'ook ta mah belt so I kin test da integrity of dat ladder? Dun wanna fall ten stories 'cause I was too fool ta ask."

[member="Jackson Singh"]

 

[Delaney Wilder]

[member="Tryp West"]

"One way to describe that." Jack mumbled while grabbing her extended hand and pulling himself up. He stretched and closed his eyes for a moment, letting the cybernetics do their work to filter all this crap out. The screeching started to dim already, but in its stead came the headache just behind his left eye. It jabbed and stabbed at him, the only thing he wanted to do right now was take something sharp and stab right back.

Not a smart idea.

"Psychometry, eh? Ya one of 'em spoopy forcers then?" Would explain why she was running around in old sith ruins. Probably not a Sith tho, a Sith wouldn't ever risk their own hide to save someone they barely knew.

Not that Jack blamed them for it.

Survival was a hell of a thing and every person was out there for themselves. "Ey, I do, but listin'." He stopped her, soft press against her shoulder so she would turn around and look 'im in the eye. " 'ppreciate this, but it ain't gonna get any safer down there." Head gestured down as an illustration. "Chance anyone walking down there ain't coming back. I get pay for this, ya ain't."

If this hadn't been for pay ya sure could bet Jack wouldn't be anywhere near here.

Right? That would be stupid after all.

 

[Tryp West]

Normally, Tryp didn't touch someone until she knew them. She didn't like to have the judgement of others until she'd judged herself. But the reflexive offering of a hand to help him up hadn't been done with anything resembling thought.

But it was moments like this that reminded her why she had that rule.

It was only a heartbeat. But the diametrically opposed sensations of fear and gratitude were jarring and even left her feeling a little queasy. Everyone was a mishmash- no one was universally loved or universally hated, but usually one thing in particular floated to the top with all of the other nuances drifting around just beneath the surface. The fear was older.... but stronger. Gratitude is such a delicate emotion, prone to shifting easily into not merely ingratitude but into resentment. People were funny creatures, she'd learned, and this was no exception. Finding both the fear and the gratitude coexisting was jarring, especially since he had not yet fully formed in her mind as a person. Just a nebulous potential.

"Nah, not a Forcer," she mumbled, reaching up to rub at the knot of pain forming between her eyes. It wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last she knew. Heck, this wasn't even the worse she'd accidentally picked up. She'd learned how to cope with unexpected flashes, but it was rarely a pleasant experience.

"'Bout as force sensitive as yer average durni," she continued, making a note to not touch him again.

Of course, he didn't know that. Fortunately, she couldn't feel jack (ha) through the layers of clothing where he tugged on her shoulder.

"Dat cowardly pissant is plantin' 'splosives in mah dig site," she responded with a snort. "Not ta mention almost blowin' me up. Nah. If'n I kin, I plan on deckin' 'im in da nose afore ya take 'im in," she said with a wink.

[member="Jackson Singh"]

 

[Delaney Wilder]

[member="Tryp West"]

He caught the residual feeling of discomfort and even the trace of pain from Tryp.

"Ears aight? Was a heavy explosion, ya?" That seemed to be the most logical of assumptions, if you asked Jack. Yeah. Psychometry, sure, but that crap was for objects and not people. So it didn't even occur to him that she might have gotten a reading from him. It would have been a bit too disturbing for him. Either way, Tryp wouldn't get any more opposition from him on this count.

Sure, he didn't like dragging other people into his messes, but... Jack sure as feth wasn't gonna push against assistance offered.

"Heh- 'msure I can give ya a minute or so with 'im alone, miss West." That would be the least he could do as thanks. Because looking down the elevator shaft Jack only got confirmed that this entire thing wouldn't be a walk in the park.

With her?

He might just walk away alive here.

It took some fumbling but from out of his pack he got out some mono-fiber that would be strong enough to hold both of them. At once, if necessary. "Best if we dun split up, tho. Go down same time. Last thing we need is bein' picked off at da same time."

 

[Tryp West]

She stuck her pinky finger in her ear and wiggled it a bit.

"Now dat ya mention it, little bit o' ringin' yeh, but nothin' too serious."

Accepting the looped end of the wire from him, she tied it deftly to her belt. But then she turned back to him and eyed him up and down. She was in truth a little bit taller than he was, but he was bulkier than her- just not by as much as she might have wanted in someone spotting in case that whole ladder on the far side crumbled beneath her.

"'Oo said anytin' 'bout splitting up? Dat's jes askin' fer trouble. I'm more concerned with 'oo's gonna test the ladder."

She eyeballed him some more.

"Alright, yeh, I will. Tink ya kin 'andle dah weight if it fails? I dun fancy a drop down dat der ten story shaft, ya unnerstan'."

One of them needed to test it first, make sure it would even hold one of them after that explosion. That aspect wasn't really up for discussion. She was taller and hadn't been described as 'slender' since she was a kid- he was shorter but probably a bit stronger. It seemed like a solid six o' one, 'alf dozen of t'other as far as Tryp was concerned which one of them checked it.

[member="Jackson Singh"]

 

[Delaney Wilder]

[member="Tryp West"]

Something told him it wasn't the ringing then.

Or maybe she was better at hiding her feelings than most, but that didn't really matter either way. Jack could probably figure it out if he started digging around her emotions and mind. Didn't like to do that though. It was messy and more often than not Singh would keep sitting with those foreign emotions for a few hours at best, days at worst and that was just... no.

The worst time had been on this trip to Zeltros.

He had been attracted to Rodians for a week after that one.

Just no.

"A', I see whatcha sayin' now." Jack nodded twice, while eyeing that same ladder. Didn't look too bad. But nobody had given him an industrial engineer doctorate, so what did he really know. Eyeing went from the ladder to her. He noticed just now that she was a touch taller than him. But Jack was used to carrying several kilos of gear with him at a moment's notice.

He'd be able to handle her without all that crap weighing him down.

"Ya, I will check ya, dun worry." The next minute or so was done in silence as she secured herself and they went through the motions together. Until they were ready and his hands curled around the mono-fiber. A nod. "Ready when ya are, miss West."

 

[Tryp West]

It wasn't a proper climbing rig. Tryp had one of those back at the ship, but it would be half a day to go back and get it and get back here. Simply didn't suit. So they made do, her turning that eyeballin' from him to the ladder. She wasn't an engineer. But she spent enough time angling about in ruins that she'd picked up a thing or two. She was pretty sure the ladder would hold her weight. But that wasn't what she was really concerned about. It was the jar from the jump that she was afraid would shake loose the bolts that held it to the far wall- already looking worse for wear and long since jutted out, no longer flush against the stone.

"A'right. One, two- tree!"

One, two, three long strides and she leapt. Open air beneath her feet for a heartbeat before she snagged herself out of the nether. She'd put her gloves back on before doing it- no good getting errant memories when she was trying to concentrate one something else. Her grip was firm, and while the metal groaned in an unhealthy sort of fashion, the ladder held. She gave it an experimental jostle, frowning at the amount of give in the bolts.

"I tink it'll 'old our combined weight," she said over her shoulder at him. "But I dun tink it'll 'andle another jump like dat one. Sec."

Slowly she maneuvered around on the ladder. Hooking one knee into a lower rung and one elbow into the one next to her shoulder, she leaned across the empty shaft, gloved hand out to him.

"Grab mah wrist- gonna need ta jump a little, but I'm gonna pull ya over, savvy?"

[member="Jackson Singh"]

 

[Delaney Wilder]

[member="Tryp West"]

He wasn't really certain if she would be able to take his weight.

But there wasn't really another option left to them. The sound of the ladder's groan as it took her weight had been enough to convince him a second jump would be ill-advised and potentially dangerous. It was best not to tempt fate too much, one jump was enough. "Mm, ya, dun see a different option 'ere now." Maybe if they had some more time available to them Jack could figure out something else.

But as she repositioned herself and extended herself a bit... Jack realized there wasn't any time for that.

Not with that explosion anyway. The clawdite was going to run, maybe not immediately, but soon. Sure, he would be able to find them again, but in that time they'd keep killing people.

That would raise the bounty.

But it would weigh on his shoulders, he had enough of that already. "Ya, lesgo." Their eyes met, she nodded, he nodded too and set his jaw. Then he pushed himself off the edge, jumping and grabbing hold of her wrist. Her fingers curled around his, firm, strong, good grip. And then the half-zeltron smacked into the wall and the ladder in front of it.

Oef.

Wind out of his lungs, pain, but his feet managed to latch onto the ladder and a moment later they were climbing. "Like mah face needed moar punishment." Jack mumbled between lips as the pain flared each step he took.

 

[Tryp West]

"Oph."

Tryp winced in sympathy, but there hadn't been much more she could have done to ease that short of making sure he crashed into her. And that would have helped either of them.

"Take'a minute," she said, letting him catch his breath and shake the pain off before they started to climb down.

She let him go first, setting their pace- she wasn't the one who'd gotten a face full of wall and it was his job after all. The route down was easy- once it was clear that the ladder would hold their combined weight (a small hesitation there until it actually did it), they moved swiftly downward. Once they got close to the bottom however, they slowed down.

Tryp drew one of the slug throwers from her hip, covering the end of his descent from above until he gave the all clear. They had moved quickly after setting off the explosive, and while she didn't think his quarry would have been waiting for hours to ambush him here, Tryp was cautious when the situation called for it. Optimist deep down, but in this case the realism was what would save their bacon.

[member="Jackson Singh"]

 

[Delaney Wilder]

[member="Tryp West"]

He took one.

Wanted more, but unlike Tryp Jack was a pessimist and wouldn't put it besides the fether to lie in wait for them.

Their jumping hadn't been silent at all, the longer they stood there at the ladder, the bigger the chance was that the clawdite would try to take them out. It's what Jack would have done back in the way. Set charges, rig 'em good, then wait until they went out. Mope out the remnants, if there were any. Maybe if this had been the first time Singh had chased him it would be different.

But the clawdite would know by now that running was only a temporary respite.

It was why the fether had rigged that trap- they had gone from running to killing now. "Am good." Not really, but as good as it was going to get. He carefully got himself to the ground, the revolver already out from the holster and portable flashlight illuminating the dusty corridor in front of them. Jack covered her in the last spurt of the journey, until she was down to her own pair of legs again.

"Keep ya 'and on da wall, ya?" It would be good, if she had more premonitions just before they'd get blown up.

Carefully they moved up, him covering her side as he eyed the hall. The soft drip of water echoed and mixed with their boots stamping against the floor. It was difficult to make out sounds here, but Jack thought he heard some kind of soft chiming noise in the background. "Ya hear da?" Jack mumbled softly.

 

[Tryp West]

"Step ahead'a ya," she murmured, already holstering her gun, slipping off the gloves and tucking them into her belt.

If his target had planned anything while in this section, he hadn't been touching the walls and thinking about or doing anything about it, and she shook her head with a grimace.

"Nuthin' 'ere," she called softly over to him, but didn't take her hand off of the wall. The sound reached her before he said anything, and she tilted her head, brow furrowing slightly.

"Music," she said, tone incredulous. Of course the look he shot her direction was even more so and she shrugged. "Look, dis is what I do Mister Singh. Traipse 'roun ruins an' make music. Dat ain't a random sound, is got a rhythm an' deliberate tone ta it. I ain't sayin' it's good music. But. I am sayin' it ain't an accidental or incidental noise."

She eyed him slightly as they headed down that hallway, finger tips light on the wall beside them.

"Ya got a personal 'ist'ry wit' dis one?"

[member="Jackson Singh"]

 

[Delaney Wilder]

[member="Tryp West"]

Jackson wanted to ask about that.

Why would anyone sane be scampering about in a spooky as feth Sith ruin and make music there? Weren't there better spots for that sort of hobby? A studio for instance with proper recording equipment, things like that. But this wasn't the time to think back to that spider jumping up and down his head for a few seconds, before Jack had been able to stop screeching like a little child and bat away the thing into the shadows.

Not when they were trying to hunt down a criminal.

"Strange, dat piece o' work never been one for music before." Jack commented softly, while they slowly closed in on the music tune in the distance. At first he didn't realize she had asked him a question.

Too focused on not getting blown up by another stray piece of explosion around these corridors.

Then Jackson blinked.

"History? Naw." Singh shrugged as he almost embraced his side of the wall next to a doorway, trying to lean in a touch and get a good beat of the room. Empty. "Killed a lotta people, bounty's good, why not me? I thought." There wasn't anything heroic about it as far as Singh was concerned. It was just a bounty, one that paid well, the fact that he would be removing a serial killer at the same time?

Well, that was just good fortune.

Slowly they slipped into the room. Pillars, some broken, others still erect, the music coming from deeper in the room where an altar stood.

No sign of the clawdite though.

 

[Tryp West]

“Is odd, yeh,” she responded, one side of her face quirking up in confusion.

She wasn’t picking anything up from her touch on the wall- which of course didn’t mean much. It could mean there was nothing risky ahead of them. Or it could mean that whatever was waiting for them, he hadn’t touched this part of the wall while considering it or setting it up. The limitations of psychometry were greater than its scope and if anyone understood that, it was Tryp.

The two came up on an empty doorway. Jackson entered the room first, gun up, followed by Tryp as her fingers brushed the stone.

For a moment she saw double.

The room as it was- broken pillars, the stone altar dusty and bare of anything but a small, music box, old fashioned and churning out the tinny music.

But also the room as it had been.

It was enough that she pulled up short just inside the room, eyes closing and head swimming with nausea. Jack pulled ahead and Tryp withdrew her hand from the doorway, swaying slightly.

“Well dat was ‘bout as bad as it gits, hoo eee-”

And then there was an arm around her throat and a blaster to her temple.

[member="Jackson Singh"]