OOC: was asked to join. Sorry to drop a long one on you all, used this as both an excuse to tie up loose ends and get onto Nar Shaddaa.
Planet of Nar Shaddaa, Barca Estate
Despite being Sith, despite an invasion of the galaxy by droids, despite war, death, and life, Mikhail had managed to find her. Finally. After so long spent searching, he found records which showed the picture he searched so hard for. Alexis Katerina. Now, Alexis Barca. It pained him to know that she had married another. Hurt him more than words could say. But he knew that if he found her, they could be together again. It would be like she never left. Like his father never forced her out.
Mikhail stood outside the door to the Barca Estate, which was in reality just a tower owned by the family. The Barcas were one of the most prominent families in the Hutt cartel. Their trade empire stretched far and wide and their fleet of ships could blot out the twin suns of Tatooine. But Mikhail had not come here for them. He stared at the door to the apartment. Her apartment. He had spent so long searching... and it all led up to this knock on the door. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the nervous tension which raced through him. He stepped forward and rapped his knuckles against the door.
A few seconds passed, then the door slid open, revealing a striking woman with dazzling eyes and long, silky auburn hair. She glanced over him. Coldly. Mikhail felt his heart drop.
"Do you remember me, Alexis?"
"Yes," she said. "I remember.... come in."
He followed her in, his heart back in place and beating rapidly. Maybe she was just scared. Like he was. Yes, that had to be it. Or maybe her husband was jealous. She couldn't show emotion. It couldn't be hatred he saw in her eyes. Not her. Anyone but her.
The inside of the apartment was luxurious. Walls were painted with white and yellow hues. Light streamed through the windows, feeding large potted plants which stood in the corners of the room. Several white couches sat in the living room area. Exquisite art hung on the walls, scenes of tranquility. Mikhail's heels clicked against the white marble floor. This was a place of wealth.
Alexis gestured toward one of the couches, "Care to sit?"
"No, no, I'll stand," Mikhail said. His pale blue eyes were locked onto hers. He stepped closer. She smelled nothing like what he remembered. The scent of fresh strawberries had turned to a tempting smell, provoking baser desires. Mikhail almost trembled. He continued to watch her. She watched back, silent. "What happened to us, Alexis?"
"Your father."
Mikhail winced, then nodded. "Alexis... nothing I can say will erase what my father did-"
"-not it won't," she said flatly.
"-but I still want you to know how much it hurts me to know what he did to you and how sorry I am for the pain my family caused you."
"Is that all you came here for?"
"No, I-"
Alexis held up a hand. "Stop." Her voice was flat and emotionless, belying the look she gave him. It was full of so much contempt and hatred that Mikhail took an involuntary step backward. "My mother died, Mikhail. We were poor, we had nowhere to go. We starved." She took a deep breath, seeming to calm herself from attacking him. "I saw you on the news, you know. Republic Officer kills superior-"
"It was an accident!" Mikhail retorted. Old feelings from an unhealed wound surfaced. Fear, regret, pain.
"So you did kill him."
"Yes, but-"
"But what?" Alexis asked, her eyes hard. "You didn't 'mean' to kill him. It wasn't your 'fault'. Those were all the same excuses you used when we were children. You haven't grown up at all, have you?"
Mikhail stared at her, his face a mixture of helplessness and sorrow. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. I can't change what happened, Alexis! I can't bring your mother back to life, I can't bring Kiaran back to life. I can't fix any of that. But I can tell you how sorry I am. Please, forgive me." He stepped in close to her, taking both of her hands in his. His eyes looked deep into hers, searchingly, pleadingly. "I need you to forgive me."
Alexis' eyes softened. "Mikhail..."
"Please."
"I can't," she turned away from him. "A few words won't bring my mother back."
"What can I do? I'll do anything, I swear."
She turned to him, eyes growing hard again. "You can kill your father. And then you can die. And then, you'll have my forgiveness."
Mikhail paled, his knees grew weak and his stomach dropped. "You don't mean that."
"I do."
"What about what we had? What about us? Doesn't that mean anything to you?"
Alexis shook her head. "We were kids, Mikhail. It was a mistake."
"Don't say that," Mikhail pleaded. "I still love you."
He took a step toward her, but she pushed him away. "I don't. I never did."
"No... no you said-"
"A mistake, Mikhail. I was wrong. I found true love when I met Hadr Barca. Mikhail... you should leave now."
Mikhail felt his heart drop. It fell far into darkness. It didn't come back. He felt as though someone had punched him in the gut. He couldn't breathe. She didn't mean it. How could she? Despair became an interminable weight that crushed down upon his soul. His world was spinning, spinning, falling. Unbearable heartache tore through Mikhail. Tears welled in his eyes, trickling silently down his face.
His voice was hoarse. "How could you say that?" He trembled. "Do you know how long I have searched for you? How hard it was to find you? Don't tell me you don't still care about me! Don't tell me that!"
"I don't," she said quietly.
Anger boiled, hot and quick. "You don't?!" Mikhail seethed with fury, his trembling became a quake. A dark whisper touched his mind. Feelings of rage and hate flooded him. He felt so. much. anger. The room itself began to tremble. The walls shivered. Darkness welled within him, feeding upon his rage. "I LOVED YOU!" he roared. Power exploded. The shockwave tore through the room. Windows shatter. Artwork flung off the walls. Plants shredded. His heartbroken anguish and rage filled the room.
Alexis screamed.
Mikhail stopped. Her eyes stared at him with horror. She looked so terrified. What am I doing? "i... I'm sorry." Mikhail turned to leave.
A tingling ran up his spine. Precognition. But... why? He whirled around to see a flash of black metal in Alexis' hands. Mikhail moved out of muscle memory and instinct, his emotions too numb and overwhelmed to comprehend what was happening. Snap-hiss. The acrid reek of burning flesh stung his nostrils. Mikhail looked in shock at what he had done. His thrown lightsaber stuck out from Alexis' chest. Her gun clattered to the floor. Her eyes stood wide, full of their last emotions of hatred and horror. Then they glazed over. She fell. Mikhail jumped forward and caught her. He fell to his knees with her in his arms.
"No, no, no, no, NO!" Mikhail removed the saber. "You can't be dead. Please, no." Dead eyes stared up at him. Mikhail sobbed. Tears ran freely. "No, no, I can save you," he reached out into the Force and began to draw the dark side into him. More than he had ever done before. All his grief and anger whirled in the tide of energy. He channeled it into her body. Mikhail screamed as the tide of dark side power roared through him, burning his nerves and scorching his soul. Yet, for all his anguish and despair, for all his strength.... she was still dead. He rocked back and forth, holding her in his arms.
"What is- Dear stars, what have you DONE?!"
Mikhail's bloodshot eyes looked up to see Hasd Barca. And he found a channel for his rage. Shorn raised a hand in a claw-like gesture. Barca floated into the air. His eyes bulged and he scrabbled uselessly at his neck with panicked fingers as Mikhail choked the life out of him.
"Do you know what is like to have everything ripped away from you? I will show you."
He slammed Barca against the wall, pushing him up until his feet dangled half a meter above the floor. The curtain rods above the windows snapped abruptly. The jagged metal hovered above Mikhail's head. He gestured. The twin shafts speared Barca in both shoulders, pinning him to the wall. Barca screamed. Mikhail ignored him, eyes fixed on the two teenagers standing in frozen shock at the doorway. They ran, but not fast enough. Mikhail's force pull ripped them off their feet. They were dragged by an unseen force until they lay at Mikhail's feet.
"Are these yours? What lovely kids."
"Yes, yes, please, don't hurt them! I can give you anything you want, money, power, fame. Anything!" Barca pleaded.
Mikhail's eyes were as cold as Hoth. "You took away everything I wanted."
"Don't! Kill me instead!" Barca struggled futilely against the metal rods sticking jutting form his shoulders. Blood painted the wall behind him crimson. A small puddle was growing at his feet. Drip. Drip. Drip.
"Oh, I will." A smile twisted across Mikhail's face. He activated his lightsaber and began to hack the teenagers to pieces. Barca wailed in utter helplessness as he watched his children die, savagely dismembered by a violet blade. Mikhail rose from his work. Smoke curled up from the bodies. The open slashes glowed with small flecks of burning red amidst the char. Mikhail deactivated his blade and stepped close to Barca. The man's face was a sight of despair,t he same despair that had moments before been upon Mikhail's own. "What's the matter, Barca? You look pale. Have you been getting enough sun?"
Barca spat at him. "I will end you, you monster."
"Booooring. Don't dying heroes have anything clever to say these days?" Shorn removed a dagger from beneath the inside of his leather jacket. The downward curving blade gleamed wickedly. "Does it burn you to know how much I've taken from you, deep down, in your innermost being, in your... gut?" Mikhail's pale eyes searched the man with malevolent mischievousness. "No? Well-" Mikhail whipped the knife across Barca's stomach. Blood sprayed across Mikhail's face and hands. The rent flesh of Barca's stomach hung open. A jumble of intestines was on the verge of spilling out. Barca howled. Mikhail glanced down at his knife. Devaronian blood poison. One cut could release such agonizing pain that... it could stop the heart. Shorn smiled savagely at Barca, blue eyes holding nothing but venom. "Oops."
"Here, let me fix that. I know just the way to mend a broken heart." Mikhail buried his blade into the man's torso at the ribcage and began to saw, heedless of the spraying blood that now matted his hair and made his hands slick. He stopped sawing and reached a hand under the ribs, pulling. He tore the heart free, ripping the arteries holding in place in an obscene fountain of scarlet. The heart still beat in his hand, spurting small jets of blood. He held it up to Barca, who retained a spark of life. The man stared, unexpressable horror on his face. "Are you hungry?" Mikhail asked. "No man should die hungry." He wedged Barca's mouth open and crammed the heart in. "Eat up." Barca died before Mikhail finished, but he no longer cared. He had shut out his empathy, his care. It was far too painful. The darkness consumed him in blissful apathy.
Mikhail wandered out of the apartment, leaving the once white interior a wreckage of blood and death. His hair was matted to his face with blood. It covered his hands, his face, and soaked the front of his jacket. Mikhail didn't care. He didn't really care about anything anymore. He wandered to the nearest local bar. Authorities quickly found him and dragged them to the Hutt's palace. Mikhail killed all three of them after letting them transport him to the palace. He wandered the halls, an unholy apparition of madness. And that was when he bumped into Patches, Skye, Tahira, and Sarge.
He heard something about restrooms. "Faaantastic. Restrooms, I need one. Where are they?" He smiled a bloodsmeared smile.
