When Will the Republic Learn?

[Darth Metus]

Time has been no ally of the once-great Republic.

When the Gulag Virus was unleashed upon the galaxy, it was the Republic who took the immediate blow, for the deadly plague was released within the Core Worlds. Countless millions perished, and as the Four Hundred Years of Darkness ensued, the Republic would wither to nothing more than a shadow of its former glory. Now, several centuries later, there are those within the Galactic Senate whom long for the Republic to ascend to its former might. There are those who seek to return to the pinnacle of galactic dominance through any means necessary. Yet, even with the support of the Jedi Order, without a formidable standing military the Republic would fare very ill against the powerful factions rising all across the galaxy.

And so, out of a desperate longing for power, a duo of Senators sought to walk in the footsteps of their predecessors and create a powerful army from nothing. They commissioned a covert cloning operation upon the planet Arkania, re-opening the closed down facilities in order to create the militant force they so hungrily craved. Over the course of the following months, the maturing clones numbered in the thousands and would enter into the service of the Republic in less than a year.

It is a rather funny fact how success brings out the boastful side in even the most humble of individuals, and so the secret was leaked directly into the ears of a Mandalorian intelligence operative (whom was cleverly masquerading as a rather spunky secretary.) After the fat, loathsome politician spilled the beans, attempting to impress her and score some office debauchery, the operative promptly excused herself and relayed all that she had discovered directly to Mandalore. An order was soon issued by the high command at that point, commissioning the utter decimation of the cloning facility...and an added bonus for quelling the sordid politician...Enter Isley Verd, a headstrong Initiate of Mandalore. He enthusiastically volunteered for the mission and set off immediately for Republic space.

Upon exiting Hyperspace, Isley made a heading for the planet's surface. He relied upon his onboard computers to conjure up necessary credentials to land in such close proximity to the cloning facility, and once cleared, touched down upon the landing pad. Before disembarking, he took a moment to send a transmission to his senior, the Blooded Mandalorian known as Halik, detailing his intentions. To be perfectly honest, he rambled for a few moments about a few strategies he had in mind before concluding with: "I do this, as with all else, for the glory of Mandalore." With that said, the young warrior exited his ship and stepped along the platform, heading towards the facility's entrance.

 

[Yidhra]

The minute the obviously inexperienced Mandalorian stepped through the sliding doors, the 'snap-hiss' so typical of a lightsaber rang through both of their ears. Gracefully, Irina followed her red saber out of the swirling shadows and pushed the laser blade an inch higher below his chin. "Hello there, Mandi," she greeted the towering man with calm in her voice. She stood before him sans mask, appearing clad only in her Sith Apprentice robes; but looks can be deceiving. In truth, there was a fine light armor hidden beneath the flowing black cape, one made of plasteel and excellent-quality fibermesh. "Dare I ask what's the nature of your business here?" she added dryly, her eyes paying rapt attention to his body language.

She had gotten wind of the pending assignment only two days before and had jumped in on the action head first, as she was wont to do. There had been little next to no info available on the situation on Arkania; only bits and pieces about some cloning facilities having been reopened and a couple of important names associated with it. How very typical, she had thought upon reading the briefing. It's only natural to expect that some Republicans have their fingers in this particular pie, she mused further with a slight sigh eschewing her lips. The integration of Sith agents throughout the Senate and other governing bodies of the Republic was still less than satisfactory, but considering that during the Four hundred year darkness, nearly every contact and connection had been severed, the amount they'd managed to rebuild was pleasantly surprising. Still, there was no time like the present to ensure their growing presence within the stagnant Republic.

That's why the dark-haired apprentice had set out on one of the Empire's sleek silver ships. She had arrived on Arkania the day before and was smart enough to have sent her vessel back into the orbit around the pale planet, maintaining a secure comlink with the pilot. It was only due to the said man's quick thinking that she'd gotten the upper hand over the newly arrived party; he had informed her about it mere seconds prior to his landing, giving her just enough time to slip back into the first complex and wait for the unsuspecting victim.

"So, Mandi?" she flexed her fingers, pushing his chin just a tad higher with glee reflecting in her eyes.

 

[Darth Metus]

Snap. Hiss. 'Haar'chak!' Isley swore to himself.

He hadn't even had the opportunity to walk ten paces inside the facility before a crimson blade was pointed under his chin. Isley knew better. Isley was taught better. This was a rookie mistake that could very well result in the extinguishing of his short life. He didn't check his scanners before waltzing into the facility, didn't even regard the information dancing upon his HUD. Nope, just strolled right in and is now paying the price for it. An grunt of aggravation escaped him, but thanks to the helmet's muffling, it sounded as an outburst of surprise.

"Easy now..." He breathed.

Isley slowly elevated his hands slowly, his mind now racing to contemplate his next move. The cloaked, excessively pretty woman before him was a Sith no doubt, the hue of the lightsaber and the quickness to enter confrontation gave that away. Fortunately, his armor provided ample protection from lightsabers and had a raised collar, shielding his neck from the blade. He thanked his lucky stars for his ancestors who had to learn the hard way in order to make this particular armor modification standard...

"...No one has to get hurt!"

His left hand sailed underneath the blade and gave it a solid, backhand swat away from his neck. The beskar gauntlet resisted the cutting strength of the saber, sending sparks flying from the collision. Simultaneously, he moved, quickly springing back to put some space between them whilst his right hand reached for his utility belt. He unsheathed one of his two trademark daggers and held it ready in an underhand hold. He braced himself for the retaliation of the Sith, his heart beginning to drum away with excitement.

 

[Netherworld]

A single dark eyebrow began its slow journey up the forehead of the Sith. "Take it easy?" she chuckled, eying the man as if he were on ten kinds of spice all at once. "You do know I'm Sith, right?" she deliberately slowed her words, as if speaking to a mentally challenged person. His high-pitched cry resounded painfully in the Epicanthix' ears and she winced at the sounds. Really? A Mandi avoiding a fight? she rolled her eyes at the armor-clad man before her. They've really gotten soft, her lips curled up at the thought and she grasped the hilt of her saber a little tighter. It was, after all, quite plausible he was just buying time to think up a quick escape plan. That, or to grab whatever his weapon of choice was.

The thought had, sadly, occurred to her just second to late, because his gloved fingers were already pushing the red laser away from his neck; and just like that, in the blink of an eye, the Mandalorian was poised in an opening stance, a dagger in his right hand. Irina frowned in dissatisfaction at how he had managed to move out of immediate death-range. "Well, now," she drawled, lowering her buzzing blade to waist-height. He was far enough for her to parry in time, and it was wiser to let her arm rest if at all possible; there was no way of knowing how their little confrontation would turn out. "Don't you think it a little silly to bring a kitchen knife to a lightsaber fight?" she smirked, motioning at his weapon with her free hand. A little insult never did anybody any harm, right? "I'd hate for your precious Mandis to have to tell your mamma how you were butchered by a Sith out of sheer recklessness, so let's try working this out in a way that makes us both happy, yes?" she added, transferring her weight to the other foot as subtly as possible. Whatever happened next, she was ready.

[yeah, I posted this while on the wrong acc, but it won't allow me to change it/delete it. can you do it?]

 

[Darth Metus]

Obscured from view by his helm, the beginnings of a smirk played upon the edges of the youthful Mandalorian's mouth. He was thoroughly amused by her assertion that his weapon of choice was a mere kitchen knife and not a tool to be reckoned with. Nonetheless, Isley moved his lips in a silent command while she commented, relying upon the scanners within his helmet to read his lips and to activate the specified function of his armor. A mechanism upon his left wrist stirred, whirring about akin to a revolver's barrel before stopping with a deadly looking dispenser in place.

The youth elevated his wrist, taking careful aim at his target while her lips were still moving. Once she had finished her snide proposition, Isley took a moment to speak before unleashing the payload of this mini-grenade launcher. "Unless you feel like burning down along with this facility, there's no outcome that'll make us both happy." With that said, the dispenser fired, releasing a storm of sixteen pellet-sized grenades across the small distance between them. In an instant, they detonated immediately before her and, being of the flashbang configuration, released violent flashes of blinding, disorienting light. The purpose of which was to obviously unbalance his opponent and create an opening.

Isley himself was unphased by the assault of light, as his trusty visor was photochromatic and quickly adjusted its hue in order to perfectly shield him from the violent effects.


{{OOC|I can't delete it either...I think only Admins have that power x.x}}

 

[Yidhra]

Irina Tyvalla wasn't happy. That, and the fact that she was also cranky and dissatisfied, usually amounted to some grand-scale destruction. On the same note, she was always chastised for causing unnecessary damage; this time, however, she was certain that some well-focused aggression could reap the finest of benefits. With narrowed eyes she kept regarding the Mandi, not prepared to leave him out of her sights even for that infinitesimal fraction of a second it took one to blink. That was probably why the Universe was still laughing and rubbing its hands in delight when she wasn't able to suppress the reflex any longer, closing her eyes in the very same moment that the Mandalorian shifted.

Precious moments were missed and all she could do to avoid severe injury - or at least lasting effects that could seriously impair her combat abilities – was to push herself back with the aid of the Force, painfully meeting the wall behind her. The hit stole all of her breath, but at least it had saved her from taking the brunt of flash detonation. So instead of being completely blinded, there was only a myriad of hued spots dancing in her vision, making it hard to see anything at all. "Really, Mandi?" she rasped in response, trying to buy herself recuperation time. "What have I ever done to you to deserve such harsh words?" there was a tingle of something in the voice of the young Epicanthix; just enough to be registered by the other, yet not giving away her true intentions. She doubted that the man was skilled in conversation, much less that he was verbose; and she intended to use that to her advantage. With her trusty lightsaber still firmly in hand, she spoke again: "Try to be flexible, darling. I'm sure you have our orders, but, really…do they mention what to do in case you meet Sith, of all things?" a soft peal of laughter escaped her lips as she finally reemerged from the grenade smoke, taking up a relaxed Soresu stance.

A single dark, suggestive eyebrow sailed higher on the milky skin as her red lips parted once more: "I'm certain we can make some kind of a deal. Aren't you?" her eyelashes fluttered when she finished, silver eyes boring through the darkened visor and into his hidden eyes.

 

[Darth Metus]

In the instant that his opponent utilized the enigmatic entity known as the Force in order to propel herself backwards, Isley's mind hearkened to the lessons of his senior Halik in regards to dealing with Jedi and Sith. He recalled a mention of their dependence upon concentration in order to achieve their telekinetic feats and that subjecting them to a hallucinogenic agent would temporarily sever their concentration, rendering them powerless. As the Sith arose from the collision with the wall, speaking once again, Isley once more moved his lips in order to manipulate the armament upon his gauntlet, this time selecting a wrist rocket imbued with the agent.

He elevated his wrist and took careful aim, never for a moment lowering his guard or stepping into a stance that would reveal any unnecessary openings upon his person. Her words rang true, his briefing did not contain information about a Sith and he continued to mentally question as to WHY a Sith would be within a Republic cloning facility. Isley weighed his options in that moment, contemplating whether or not he would be successful in defeating the woman before him. Perhaps reasoning would be the best course of action...nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?

"My purpose for being here is very simple. I was hired to do a very simple, destructive task, but I was not anticipating on encountering a Sith here....Taking you down isn't apart of the job description, and I'm assuming that squaring off with me isn't apart of yours. So, you want to come to a deal? So be it. Talk. Tell me what a Sith is doing in a Republic cloning facility."

 

[Yidhra]

Not again, she groaned in her mind as the Mandi straightened out his arm. Whatever he was about to shoot at her next, she didn't want to know. The flashbangs were bad enough and Force knew what the Mandi was packing; after all, they were notorious for being walking armories. She was taking no chances there; sure, she could probably take him down with the Force before he could throw the next set of explosives at her, but there was no guarantee of survival. So it only seemed logical not to challenge the man any more than need be, for she was a survivalist above else. Also, reconciling with the Mandalorians would look especially good in her report and the masters were sure to be pleased if she managed to pull it off.

That's why she put her charm into first gear, pursing her lips ever so slightly as she parted them for a response. Her voice took on a hoarse quality, too, giving the enticing dark woman an aura of undeniable charisma. "Indeed you're right, honey," she mused, her red lips curling up at the corners, forming a perfect smirk. "As for my business here," with her silver eyes sparkling in delight, she let the sentence float in the air, giving everything a sense of mystique. "I simply seek to throw a wrench in their works." Another smile, this one even more appealing than the one before. " 'An incapacitated Republic is a good Republic' goes the ancient wisdom of the Sith," a soft peal of laughter, lidded silver for her eyes. With two barely perceptible strides, she had closed in on the Mandi to nearly arm-length. "Really, we should take this place down together and enjoy the show. You know what they say: 'An enemy of my enemy is my friend'," she winked at the man in the heavy-duty armor, sure of her persuasion technique. Any man would've been putty in her hands by now, and even though Mandis were famous for their resolve, under all those layers of beskar-reinforced armorweave and plasteel, there was surely just a man; and men had terrible, overpowering weaknesses known simply as beautiful women. It just so happened that Irina qualified as such.

 

[Darth Metus]

'What....is this serpent up to....' Isley said to himself.

Suddenly, the woman was no longer fit the stereotypical bill of ruthless, sadistic Sith. With no more than a change in tone, she had circumvented the Mandalorian's instincts and had captivated the man within the armor. He was, unlike his seniors and betters, inexperienced in more ways than one; and her feminine charm was simply epitomizing one particular area of inexperience. For a moment, the young man was dumbfounded by her charm: the sway of her hips as she approached, the piercing gaze of silver that penetrated his visor, the attention she drew to her lips as she spoke...

...And then she got too close. Now within arm's length, the Mandalorian within him Spartan-kicked his libido into place and Isley swiftly mouthed a command. His armor immediately responded, awakening the thrusters of his jetpack to jettison him back several feet. Touching down, he elevated his arm once more, taking aim again: and he wouldn't be fooled twice in a row. Still, the content of her seduction was intriguing. If he teamed up with this Sith in order to destroy the cloning facility, then he would still be completing his primary objective...and perhaps gaining an ally in the process.

"Alright....Put away that lightsaber and I'll lower my arm....Only then will I consider what you say as true and we can get to work."

 

[Yidhra]

Well, Sithspit! I was that close! the young Epicanthix cursed under her breath, eyes blazing with anger for a fraction of a second. The all-too-careful Mandi had launched himself out of her reach once again; it seemed as if his armor had some kind of a contraption or gadget for every impossible situation. Irina's eyes narrowed in suspicion; was he really such a newbie or just pretending? As far as she knew, neophytes didn't get such great and well-equipped apparel until they'd proven themselves beyond reproach. "Well, damn," she sighed, exasperated at the technological upper hand of her would-be opponent. The wise choice was to relinquish the thought of a confrontation, if only for long enough to complete her task. Then she could always stab the Mandi in the back and make off with his fancy armor. Grinning at the idea, she slid her elegant finger across the button on her hilt and watched with a forlorn look in her eyes as the red, humming blade hissed out of existence.

"Very well, Mandi," she turned her silver eyes to her new accomplice, smirking softly. "Let's tone it down on the violence and plan the impending destruction of Republic's plans, shall we?" she offered, her tone jovial and excited. After all, it wasn't every day that one got to work in unison with packing Mandalorians to turn profit and bash their opponent. Ah, the little pleasures in life.

 

[Darth Metus]

"There's not much planning to it." Isley stated simply. A noticeable wave of relief washed over the young warrior once the crimson blade had retracted itself; today was the first time he had come face to face with a lightsaber, and now he'd live to tell it. As promised, he lowered his arm and retracted the wrist rocket, as well as returned his beskar dagger to its place upon his utility belt. Whilst there, he fished out a flat, disc-like object and pressed a button on its side. This prompted an azure projection of the facility's layout to appear before their eyes.

"Put simply, we destroy everything, kill everyone, and leave no trace that this facility even existed. Furthermore, we need to find out who is funding this project and put an end to them."

His motioned hand to bring her attention to the two heat signatures at the front-most point on the holo-map. This was obviously them. He trailed his finger over the top of the map, creating a yellow path through the various corridors, leading up to a rather large room. "This," he said, "is the main cloning facility. As far as demolition goes, this would be our first target. I say we do what we do best to this particular room first, then move onto the personnel offices and gather intel. We'll finish up with a nice, clean bombing run and call it a day."

With that, he stowed the disc back into his utility belt and produced a pair of onyx blasters from their holsters. Though they appeared as twins, the one residing in his left palm had a scope upon the barrel while the right had a larger power cell attached to it. He stepped forward and past his Sith teammate, stopping only to open the towering doors before him.

"By the way, the name's Isley."

 

[Yidhra]

Finally, the immediate threat receded back into an armor-slot while the kitchen knife was once again safely fastened to the man's utility belt. She drew closer to the Mandi and glued her eyes to the shimmering holo-schematics of the facilities. She had to give the Mandalorian a mental pat on the shoulder; she didn't think of bringing something similar with her. Then again, they probably couldn't have acquired such a thing in the first place. While possessing a wide-spread network of spies and infiltrators, their priority was to make sure no-one knew of the rising Sith power; that, and taking care of anything that might endanger that very same power. Who the hell needed a map anyway?

She nodded absently, her mind already rushing forth to what the Mandi had proposed. One dark eyebrow rose as her eyes flickered back to the darkened visor. "That’s a spectacularly bad idea," she stated simply, her voice for once lacking all and any contempt; it was simply a statement of fact. "Unless, of course, you want us to lose the element of surprise the minute we blow up the central complex," she added, this time with a hint of sarcasm. But just a tiny, tiny undertone. Barely noticeable, really. "If we destroy the main factory first, there's a ninety-nine percent chance that alarms, lockdowns and auto-cleaning commands will be set off. What we want to do - trust me on this one," she winked at the Mandi who had already made for the grandiose sliding doors, "- is to gather the intel and kill people first and get to burning stuff afterwards." She, too, upped her pace and headed in after the man, quickly catching up. "We don't want our party to be gatecrashed, now do we?" she finally did give the Mandi a patronizing pat, immensely self-satisfied at being able to do that, even though he probably hadn't even felt it.

"Irina," she nodded curtly and passed the warrior, heading down the left corridor with her inner eye focused on the schematics from before.

 

[Darth Metus]

Isley had to admit, the Sith made sense. The Republic was indeed notorious for placing their confidence in devices which destroy valuable intelligence when situations became dire. That being said, the male simply elevated his shoulders and dropped them, shrugging right before he felt a gentle touch upon his armor. Even though the lining was thick and the plating even thicker, he had been trained from childhood to feel even the slightest touch upon his person; the Sith's hand being no exception. Though patronizing, Isley decided not to make a large deal out of it, for it was probably within her nature to act as thus.

"....I'll give you that one....Onward to the offices..." He said. Though young and hot-headed at times, the youth had no problem admitting that he was wrong and moving forward. And although pride was a major factor in the culture of being a Mandalorian, Isley often made no qualms about his pride being bruised if it meant he learned something in the end. It was simply apart of growing up and learning how to think things through more thoroughly; just like the situation at hand.

"Irina," he breathed, stepping lively to keep in step with her, "truly a unique name. Tell me, from where do you hail?" The young warrior was not always so curious, however it is not often that one gets to work alongside a Sith. So, of course he would take the opportunity to ask a few questions here and there. As they moved along the corridor, Isley kept his hands only inches away from his utility belt, so that he may swiftly react to any situation that may await them around the corner.

 

[Yidhra]

"Oh, you'd better," she laughed coquettishly and rounded the corner, "and I promise you, Isley, this is just the first of many," she leaned back, her dark dreadlocks falling freely at the sides of her face, and winked at him for good measure. Grinning with self-satisfaction, the Sith trod onward to the doors at the far end of the corridor. "Really, who designs these places?" she muttered when five minutes passed and the door seemed exactly as far away as before. Shaking her head in frustration, Irina upped her pace; it would not do to squander away their precious minutes.

"Yeah, yeah, it's gorgeous," the tall woman waved her hand at the compliment and chanced a swift glance at her unlikely companion. Puffing air derisively form her lungs, she smirked ruefully. "Oh, I hail from a somewhere that'd make you wet your pants, Mandi," she responded, just a tinge of sentimentality in her voice. "There are places in this Galaxy of ours that'd make us all shudder, Isley, and where I come from is one of them for sure," now all emotion was gone from her tone, as if she were simply stating facts or reading from a soulless historical holo. "Nevermind that, Mandi," she shrugged after a few seconds of silence.

"What about you? Born and bred on Mandalore?" the Sith inquired just as they reached the doors. "You know what? Let's share origin stories after we bust this place, okay?" with one last wink, the dark-haired woman lit her red blade and swept into the main control room.

 

[Darth Metus]

The Lady Sith sure had some unique ways about her, but then again perhaps this was how women acted outside of Mandalore. Grins, winks, sarcasm, more grins, more winks, even more sarcasm. The young warrior simply shrugged his shoulders and kept pace with the woman, listening to the tone of her voice as she spoke of her homeworld. He stifled a chuckle when she implied that it would make him wet himself, not out of bravado, but simply because he found it funny. When the reached the doors, his mouh was open to answer her inquiry, but she had made the suggestion to hold off on story time until after the mission. Before stepping through the doors, Isley reached for his utility belt and produced a communications link. Though one was built into his helmet, he always carried a few spares just in case.

He reached over and unceremoniously dumped the device into his companion's hand, then keyed a sequence into his wrist console. This activated the cloaking device installed within his armor: if they were going to gather intelligence without attracting much attention, why not go invisible? "I'm sure you can keep tabs on my presence with the Force, but I don't know if we can communicate that way. That said, use the comm-link to reach me. I'll go up ahead and start hacking into their files, you...well, use that charm of yours to get in close Lady Irina."

He added the title Lady with a coy smile that was hidden behind his visor and his cloaking device, but he was sure she could feel the hint of amusement emanating from him. Without another word, he stepped lively into the offices, silently dodging past the personnel and heading towards one of the larger consoles. Coming to a crouch, he tapped a sequence into his wrist console, beginning the process of entering the facility's mainframe.

 

[Yidhra]

She stopped curiously when a cold, metal object was dropped into the palm of her hand. The Mandi quickly summed up his idea and Irina had to agree; used to working with Force-sensitives, she had not thought of something as simple as a comm-link. With a smile at the Mandalorian's antics, she tucked the small device into her flowing robes and took a good look at her surroundings. When she was certain she was in no immediate danger, her eyes fell closed and she reached out with the Force, feeling for living entities in the vast room. The farther she spread her attention, the less accurate it became, but she had no reason to believe that any sentients present would have the ability to mask themselves from the Force, and thus did not find a liability. "Dun-di-duuun," she murmured under her breath, a smirk curling her lips. "Oh, such fun we're going to have, my darling," she patted the lightsaber in her hand and relinquished her hold of the Force.

There were people who could recognize a Sith with a single glance; namely, a glance at their red lightsaber. But if the distinguishing feature disappeared and the person was not as far along the road to Hell for it to show, then people were immensely easier to fool; or at least that was what Irina was counting on. After all, who would suspect a beautiful young woman of being a wretched Sith? And in here, of all places? The only thing that might've given her away was the feral leer pulling at her lips right before she strode into the division director's office.

"Good day," the Sith practically purred, her eyes instantly projecting the purest innocence a sentient could (and would) expect from someone looking as she did. "My ship crashed and since this looked like…uh, well, like a place where you'd have some parts to spare or, you know, some people who could repair it…I have credits, I can pay!" she smiled trying to reassure the Arkanian sitting behind the desk, perfectly playing the part of a confused young pilot crash-landing on an unknown planet. The man was still eying her with nothing short of suspicion, so she flashed him another tentative smile and fished a credit stick out of her robes. "Here? I swear I'm not trying anything! My ship's just a mile from this…uh, facility?" she tried again, fluttering her eyelashes. "Please?" Force, did she hate pulling the puppy-eyes trick, even if it worked like a charm; it made her feel retarded and all doll-like.

This time was no exception and the man conceded with a small smile of his own: "Oh, alright. I suppose it can't hurt to lend a helping hand," he responded and went to one of the many computers in the room, foolishly turning his vulnerable back on the dangerous woman. The said Sith closed the doors and closed the blinds with a simple wave of her hand, slipping impossibly quietly behind the desk. Suddenly, her arm was around his neck, the other clasped over his mouth; and with a sharp twist, the sick sound of breaking bone could be heard in the stillness. Irina let the body down gently, so as not to cause any commotion; she had perhaps five minutes before the personnel outside started suspecting something foul was afoot.

 

[Darth Metus]

It didn't take Isley more than thirty seconds to break through the meager electronic defenses that barred him from the information he desired. T'was a small feat for the well-equipped Mandalorian to circumvent a series of firewalls and to decrypt a password or two. Once this task was accomplished, the young man was rewarded with unrestricted access to the entirety of the facility's data, both public and confidential. Of course, he'd start in the confidential section and therefore keyed another command into his wrist console to commence the download of the intel. The data appeared before his eyes, displayed by the HUD of his helmet. He saw schematics for vehicles, weapons contracts, an estimation of the clone's enumeration, and much much more. Satisfied with his findings, Isley proceeded to move the data along to his ship's computer. From there, he established a line of communication between his vessel and Mandalore and proceeded to upload all his findings to the higher ups.

"Now that that's out of the way...."

He repeated the process for the public information as well, resulting in a grin to form upon his face. This was due to the two images that flashed before his eyes upon the HUD: the identities of the two senators who had commissioned and funded the project. 'Looks like I'm headed to Coruscant.' he said to himself, delving into a series of ideas on how to deal with the troublesome politicians. He moved to rise, but then stopped himself, making a quick decision that only took a shred of time. With a simple stroke upon the console, he made a copy of the downloaded data and placed it on a small drive. This was to be given to his Sith comrade once she completed her own infiltration work. Speaking of which...

"Irina," Isley whispered. His voice would project from the comm-link on its default volume: being just loud enough for her ears to hear alone. "All's done on my end, I'm moving to clear out the offices...I'm thinking of sending some poison through the ventilation shafts, but before I do that, do you have a filtration device?"

He awaited her response, as he didn't want to act and potentially kill her. That would be just plain rude.

 

[Yidhra]

"Ooooh, come on!" the Sith almost threw a fit worthy of a five-year old. Her hand was already on the handle and she was just about to exit the office and go on a killing spree, when the comm-link softly beeped and rasped with Mandi's whispering voice. Irina rolled her eyes, annoyed at the man's unusually sound logic. "Partypooper," she muttered back in the device, irritated beyond belief. Really, who wouldn't be? All she wanted was a couple of alone minutes with the personnel. Was that too much to ask? With a sigh that signified her surrender, she let go of the door and plopped back into the cozy chair of the Arkanian whose untimely demise was entirely her fault.

While pondering her answer, her fingers started playing with the little precious chip in whose circuits there was stored every bit of information she could find on the Division director's computer; not that she was a hacking expert, mind you, it was just the fancy gadget that had every bit necessary for a full scan of the system. Really, the poorly encoded files were at the program's mercy in bare seconds, laid out bare for the Sith to see. "Dum-di-duum," the said woman sang softly to herself as she finally stood up, having made her decision.

"Very well, Mandi, have fun with the poison and worry not 'bout me. Remember, us wicked people always have unfair advantages," she chuckled into the comm-link before severing the connection with an insane leer on her face. "Let's have us some fine ol' slaughter, now," she grinned, her silver eyes twinkling with a twisted, maniacal spark as she pushed open the doors and lit her blood-red lightsaber.

 

[Darth Metus]

And just like that, the line of communication was broken between the young Mandalorian and the Lady Sith, leaving the youth feeling a tad conflicted. Nevertheless, the youth moved to carry out that which he had mentioned: crossing the room as swiftly and silently as he could until he reached the grating of a ventillation shaft. Thankfully he was out of sight of the personnel whom were present, for the moment he rounded the corner and crouched beside the grate, his cloaking device had worn off and had begun its cooldown count. Isley exhaled a sigh of relief that he had made it in time, then reached within his utility belt. His fingers fished around for a moment before he produced three silver spheres which fit snuggly in the palm of his hand.

With a flick of his wrist, he rolled the pellets into the grate (in this way they wouldn't clatter about and alert the personnel) and waited for the desired effect. Perfectly, they operated, unleashing a cloud of green, toxic fumes the moment they came to a halt. The fumes were immediately sucked up into the ventillation system and made their way to the other ventillation grates throughout the office. In the span of a few seconds, the green fumes began to spew all about the office, prompting a symphony of coughing and wheezing from the unfortunate personnel whom inhaled them. There were thuds as bodies hit the floor convulsing, the sounds of chairs toppling over and desks being clawed to no avail....then silence.

"Irina," Isley muttered into the communication link, "when you're...done...rendezvous with me near the office entrances. I made a copy of the information I downloaded for you...it would appear as though the Senators funding this cloning project are currently in Coruscant as we speak. Let's say we nip this little problem in the bud..."

With that said, Isley proceeded from his hiding place and stepped over the bodies of the deceased personnel, making for the entrance to the office.

 

[Yidhra]

The green fumes started drifting through the grates almost immediately after she stepped out in the room; not fast enough, though, for the personnel not to get a glimpse of her red saber. As expected, panic ensued, the Sith grinned madly and almost danced to the cacophony of coughing, screaming, rasping and wheezing. Glorious, the dark-haired woman thought to herself as she watched the people struggling to stay conscious. As far as she could discern, the gas was probably some type of nerve agent, if the epileptic convulsions were of any indication. Irina, satisfied with the number of beings that had crawled out of their cubicles in search of clear air, started in a slow stroll towards the crawling mass.

The Sith, unlike the Jedi, were trained to resist poison from an early age, in body as well as mind. The Force, let's not forget, also played a major role in their ability to reject substance that would kill most people nearly instantly. Her body was surrounded with something akin to a Force bubble that kept the swirling green mist at bay and let the Sith breathe clear, untainted air. Her silver eyes sparkled when she saw the despair on the faces of the twitching host, their fingers grotesquely clawing at the unattainable air about the Epicanthix. She rose her saber above one such hand and drove her coldly excited gaze into the fear-glazed eyes of the man simultaneously with the swing of her blade.

The whole corridor was an image of carnage when Irina was finally "done", as the Mandi had put it. Heeding her masters' advice, she took the opportunity to practice various strikes and Force forms on the helpless victims; frankly, she was doing their screeching, agonized bodies a favor. Well, at least to those on whom she used the quick kills. Others…they weren't so lucky. Then again, the nerve agent wasn't much fun either. At least she was providing some diversity to their last seconds. Who could blame her?

The black fabric of her lower robes was stained with all kinds of bodily fluids when the graceful Sith finally swept out of the offices, a satisfied smile on her face. She looked eerily serene with her sleeves rolled up to her elbows and her forearms coated in blood of all hues. "Dum-di-duum," she winked happily at the Mandi and patted him on his armored back, smearing the reds, violets and greens all across his pretty shoulder-pads. Ignoring the mess she'd just made – or perhaps not even regarding it as such – the Sith spoke: "So, what's this about some senators that I hear?" Carefully, she wiped her right hand into her already ruined robes before brushing a stray dreadlock from her face. "I don't know about you, but people dressed like me don't usually get the warmest welcome on Coruscant of all places," she added, her brows furrowing in thought, "we could always disguise ourselves. I'm betting you look positively smashing in an evening gown," she grinned at Isley and stretched lazily, her movements almost catlike. Really, after such a fine afternoon, she could use a fine nap.

"In any case," she let the fleeting fancies disperse, "we still have us a clone factory to blow up," the Sith reminded the Mandalorian, eyes glancing round to see if the man had perchance already planted any explosives.