You Probably Get That a Lot

[Darth Osano]

MAENA
IRAJAH VEN'S APARTMENT

Doctor [member="Irajah Ven"] had died.

It was really quite tragic.

It would probably be a while before her human remains were extricated from the burned out ruins of her estate on Dosuun. But for all intents and purposes, she was dead. Dead as they got. As dead as Evelynn Dorn, rest her weary soul. Maleagant almost felt bad. He had failed her, in a way. Not that it was ever really about her. She had just represented an opportunity, an opening, to deliver a swift death blow to the Zambrano hegemony. It had never been capitalized on correctly. Both of the spies he had in Vain Hollow, not to mention the drones, had failed to acquire the information he needed. Both of those tyrannical fools that headed up House Zambrano should have had no reason to suspect anyone would come looking for evidence of their crimes, but they had gone to ludicrous lengths to cover it up anyway.

Well, it didn't matter now.

He couldn't search her Dosuun estate now, but perhaps Ven had left something useful here. Maleagant had found out about this location shortly after and decided to pay it a visit. The last time he had come here he had sought knowledge from Onley Xiangu. That had been helpful. Perhaps he would find something helpful here. Ven had spent so long with those lunatics, she must have left some written record - something he could capitalize on. A journal, perhaps. If she kept such a thing here, or a copy of an original,. he'd find it. Or his minions would, anyway. Maleagant was not too interested in doing the scavenging himself. He sat in an armchair in the living room, drumming his fingers along the rest.

All around the apartment, a half-dozen of his Enforcers were rooting around. They were not very courteous about their search. Why would they? It's not like she'd be coming back. Everything was picked through. The office, the bathrooms, the bedroom, the pantry. Top to bottom. Scrubbed, scanned, analyzed. And then, quite surprisingly, the front door opened. Everyone stopped dead - like children who were caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

 

[Kuzo]

Assumptions were tricky things.

They assumed that Doctor Irajah Ven was dead. It was not, all things considered a bad assumption. Technically, after all, she had been. But death has a way of being a rather mutable state for those with power.

Or in Raj's case, those with powerful friends.

The hooded figure in the door had also made assumptions.

Primarily that she wouldn't find vultures already rifling through her things.

But, we live and we learn.

Maena had been the first logical place to go after.... well. After everything. With [member="Samson"] in tow, she had taken up residence with [member="Matsu Xiangu"] once more. Despite what had felt like an eternity crawling through the Netherworld, Irajah had never felt more alive. Each step, each small movement of her hands, they radiated an almost feral air of vitality. She felt no strangeness, occupying this simulacrum created for her, just the opposite. She had felt trapped by sickened and damaged flesh for so long, limited by both her body and within the Force as she had used it to keep Gideon at bay. And then the Zambranos had taken even more from her, replaced by a shadow of cybernetics that she had never fully acclimated to. Every time she stepped, every time she closed her fingers into a fist or plucked an object that lay before her, she reveled in the sensation of her own skin truly belonging once again to her without a scrap that needed to be shared with something hungry.

The towering figure of Samson behind her shoulder made the already petite figure positively diminutive as she stepped into the apartment. Her apartment.

She pushed back the hood, settling it around her shoulders. A single dark eyebrow arched at the scene as hazel eyes scanned the room and those frozen, not yet sure just what this was about to turn into.

"No, no, please. Continue," she said calmly, breaking the silence. There was very little of import here, all of her research in the bowels of Matsu's labs or ashes at Blackwater. She pursed her lips slightly, eyes falling on [member="Maleagant"] .

"Though if you've broken any of the things I've come to collect myself I might be cross, ​you understand."

 

[Itash Mecetti]

[member="Maleagant"]

The last few weeks were a roller-coaster of conflicted emotions, before it all ended in exhausting catharsis.

All that mattered was that at the end of it [member="Irajah Ven"] had come back to him. When will she leave again? It was her death, ripping through him like a jagged sword, that shook him to his core and left him dazed. What would he do without her? What was his purpose, if not to serve her?

During those hours of waiting as the green-skin entered the Netherworld with her sidekick in tow, before crawling back out with Raj again had been spend in self-reflection.

What Samson saw was not to his liking.

Useless, broken, nothing the moment his Master was gone. "She is not pleasant while cross." The low voice spoke up behind her, while he noted each and every occupant of the room. Just a few weeks ago Samson would not have dared to speak out of turn, but something had changed after her death and subsequent resurrection.

There were many... it would get messy.

But his hand did not go to the saber on his belt, not yet anyway.

Instead the clone waited for his Master's second move. Speak? Yes, but he would not decide their fate without the direct order of Doctor Ven.

He wasn't that far gone yet.

 

[Darth Osano]

[member="Irajah Ven"] | [member="Samson"]

Maleagant rose slowly, the only immediate sign of movement in the entire apartment. It wasn't a ghost. Ghosts couldn't open doors. Usually. This one was flesh and blood. The scanners that were part of his HUD picked up that much. The last intelligence he had indicated she was a cyborg. This was not a cyborg, but it matched Doctor Ven's description to a T. The cross-referencing even checked out. So this was either Doctor Irajah Ven in the flesh or a very convincing doppelganger that just happened to have the keys to this apartment. What was more likely? A doppleganger or someone else had gotten in on the time-honored practice of cheating death.

His head canted to the side while he sized them up. Especially the giant. "You heard her," he said. Sounded like he was talking to his men. There was a voice modulator somewhere in that helmet too, giving him a deeper and more synthetic voice. Typical Sith sort of thing to do. "Continue."

The shuffling and the rummaging continued, but clearly at a half-hearted pace. They had all seen the giant, after all. Maleagant recognized him. You had to appreciate how unnerving this had become for the Enforcers. The dead doctor had just returned with a giant bodyguard in tow and their spooky employer had just ordered them to keep going anyway. And that was no ordinary giant either: that was Braxus Zambrano, but also not Braxus Zambrano. Clearly a clone. Physically it was a spitting image of the Lesser Zambrano, but everything else was a giveaway. Obviously one cold have pointed to the fact that it had managed to get this close to Doctor Ven without one of them trying to murder the other. For Maleagant, it was the eyes. They possessed an internal quality not seen in this clone's template.

Intelligence.

Maleagant would ask about that later. For now, he had other questions.

"You're clearly alive, despite my best guess. How did that happen?"

 

[Kuzo]

She cast the barest glance back at [member="Samson"] when he spoke, a hint of approval in those hazel eyes before turning to address one of [member="Maleagant"]'s men. She didn't respond to his question right away, her focus instead on a small clay bowl one of them was manhandling with a certain nervousness now, the situation not unfolding as they expected it to be.

"Give that here please, carefully. I cannot replace it."

He looked confused at her for a moment. It was, from an outside perspective, clearly a piece of junk. She held out her hand expectantly. He glanced at his employer, scanned it, and then handed it over carefully.

Irajah cupped the hand painted piece in both hands, far more gently than its appearance warranted. She gave him a nod, and then finally turned her attention back to Maleagant.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, eyes casting unabashedly up and down before settling back on his mask. "But who are you and why, should I tell you anything? I understand that clearly there are things you wish to know," her gaze flickered meaningful to his men tearing her place apart before returning to him. "But your desire is, in no way, a sufficient reason for me to answer your question. So. Try again. Perhaps by starting with who, exactly, you are, and what in Maw's name you are doing, rifling through my things."

 

[Itash Mecetti]

[member="Maleagant"] | [member="Irajah Ven"]

Only weeks ago Samson would have been the one stepping up and using his physical presence to assist Doctor Ven in this.

But she had changed ever since leaving the Netherworld behind. Darker? Of course. But there was a sense of strength in her that had not been there before, not to say that Ven had ever been weak, but the compromise had left her spirit. She did not let anyone kark with her... unless she asked them anyway. That was neither here nor there though.

Especially not in this moment.

That explained why Samson did not say anything more, instead opting to eyeball the goon-squad like the good grand goon he was. Never did the clone make any sudden movements that would give them an excuse to devolve this situation, but one by one he printed their mannerism in the back of his head. All masked, but the subtle ways they handled the scavenging of the apartment could give him a hint in the battle to come. Even now Samson was thinking in terms of a fight - she was the voice, he was the muscle that assisted her.

Could it ever be different than that?

Then why did Samson feel so dissatisfied with all of it?

 

[Darth Osano]

[member="Irajah Ven"] | [member="Samson"]

Maleagant paused for a moment, gathering his bearings and his face. "Who are you?" was probably his least favorite question to be asked. Because then he had to think about what he was going to say and who he was going to say it to. Doctor Ven and Braxus 3.0 could prove valuable allies. Or she could get kidnapped by the SIS and divulge all kinds of information all over again. Maleagant didn't have the details - yet - but anyone who walked out scott free had to have given them something. Who knew? Maybe she was still in contact with them. In any case, caution would have to be exercised. Maleagant lowered his hood. "Fine," he said, and his hands found his way behind his mask. There was a click, followed by a hiss, as the helmet depressurized. He then pulled it off of his face, revealing...

The battle-scarred face of a dangerous-looking Cathar. His fur was a soft, sandy color and his eyes were a harsh, predatory yellow. He dropped his helmet onto the nearby coffee table, apparently having no further use for it.

"I am Thengil Ri'Shajirr," said Maleagant, who now even sounded like Thengil. It was almost as if they had crossed paths a lot or something. "Melwas bid me to come here and search for something pertinent to unseating the Zambranos."

His eyes flicked over to Samson on that note, wondering if he would react to such a statement or not. Probably not, but it never hurt to double check these things.

Thengilagant looked back to Irajah. "You were dead. He believed you might have written something useful down..."

 

[Kuzo]

Irajah sighed.

Always the Zambranos. Always.

From the very first, she had been baffled by their attention to her. Even after their plots and duplicity, how deeply they had used her, had come to light, she still had never fully understood the precise why of it. Why her, why at all? What purpose could they have possibly intended. But escaping them had been far more important than discovering those answers- no small detail for a woman who hungered for the very knowing.

She pursed her lips, studying the cathar's face for a long moment. His name meant nothing to her, nor did the other one he mentioned, but that wasn't all that surprising. She had spent so much of the last year diving deeply into her studies of Gideon- she'd had little enough time or interest in expanding in other ways. It wasn't really a choice. It had been necessity at the time.

At least this one hadn't tried to stick her in a sack. That counted for something, considering. She had always said if someone had simply asked her for her help, instead of manipulating her or worse, she would have given it. While she didn't appreciate the invasion of her privacy, this was close enough.

"Oh sit back down," she murmured, pinching the bridge of her nose slightly before crossing the living room. She settled herself in one of the chairs, as if this were a social call, rather than a home invasion.

In truth, she wasn't particularly upset. Annoyed, yes, but not upset. It was..... difficult.... to draw emotions stronger than that after her journey through the Netherworld. [member="Carach"] had assured her that would change with time again, but there was a cool numbness for something as benign as this.

"He was not mistaken. I was dead." She said simply. For the moment, she had no desire to elaborate. To say that the experience had been unpleasant would be an understatement of epic proportions.

"You won't find anything on them here," she said evenly, leaning back in the chair. Samson loomed behind her. "All of the information I have on them I never risked committing to any hard copy."

Frowning slightly, she watched him.

"You are not the first, to come looking for information on the Zambranos. Their assumptions were.... enlightening. Why come to me?"

She knew, of course, why seeing that dynasty brought to its knees would be satisfying, if not something she cares about with the burning she once had. But she wanted to know what he thought he knew about her. If he had come as the GA had, to accuse, to guilt- an appeal to a better nature she had left behind in the Nether. Or if he was here as Ashin had come. His answer here would decide if she helped him.

[member="Maleagant"] [member="Samson"]

 

[Darth Osano]

[member="Irajah Ven"] | [member="Samson"]

Thengilagant nodded and seated himself, recollecting his helmet and glancing at Samson again. Was he just going to stand? Honestly, that would not be the weirdest thing to happen. Considering a bunch of men in red jumpsuits had just turned the apartment inside-out. What a strangely calm individual Doctor Ven was turning out to be. But when you had all your bones crushed by the Black Iron Tyrant and given a bunch of knife-tattoos, then actually killed, then actually brought back to life, it must have done wonders for an outlook on life. A year ago Maleagant would have told her she was a quack for trying to tell him she came back to life. Now he knew better.

He slid his helmet back on. Novel as it was to pretend to be Thengil, his face felt uncomfortable with all that fur. "Sentiment, I guess," he answered her question. "Melwas has been aware of you and your plight from the beginning. He has one spy in Vain Hollow and around three spy drones."

There were obviously spies and spy drones, but those numbers were fabrications. Everything on a need-to-know basis.

"One of them was supposed to get you to go to the First Order. It did not work, obviously," he continued. "You happened to be in a small demographic of victims that the First Order would care about. If she had been successful, they would have been cast out by now. But it fell through. Not her fault, though. Ours."

Maleagant said something over an internal comm unit. Or he must have, anyway, since the Enforcers were now shuffling out and going back to whence they came. Without fail, they all tensed up as they passed Samson. Then once he was actually behind them, they even moved a little faster. What a wonderful clone. Maleagant almost wanted one.

Anyway, he resumed talking. "Victims of the Zambranos usually only includes nobodies and Jedi. The nobodies have no one to care about them. The Jedi don't want to talk to us. Although if they had learned something useful by now they would have done something and there would be no more Pacanath Reach," he drummed his fingers along the arm rest. Maybe now that SIS had something... Well, no. SIS was a little league thing. Basically useless. It was always square one with those people. "Since you were dead, I assumed there would be no point in approaching you directly..."

Mistakes, as usual, had been made.

"...Perhaps now you can find it in your heart to repeat what was said to those prior individuals."

 

[Kuzo]

"Sentiment."

Mostly her tone was dead pan. Perhaps there was a hint of 'are you karking with me?', but mostly the flatness reigned.

"Really."

It was a little surreal. If she had known about any of this, would things have gone any different? Some had meant to approach her- who? And why hadn't they? It was difficult to cast a net wide enough in this moment to consider the myriad of different futures, because the recent cuts of the past were still too fresh.

She didn't particularly feel anger, though part of her was aware that it would be an understandable emotion in this moment. To discover that someone had been aware and yet had done nothing? There was a certain curiosity, in regards to the lack of internal response to that, but beyond? Nothing.

It was almost like he was talking about someone else entirely. She held all of the same memories, it was her, there was no doubt about it. She was not in truth a different person.

But there was a veil that lay now, separating that woman and the one sitting in front of him now. And that veil settled lightly but irrevocably on the moment [member="Samka Derith"] had drawn that blade across her throat.

"Honestly, I mostly told them to kark off," she said conversationally. "At first, because I was afraid."

It was strange how easy this was to speak of now.

"I was fully convinced that speaking of it would mean my death. I suspect that was a deliberate suggestion. Someone willing to break half the bones in someone's body wouldn't flinch at so small a thing."

She leaned back in her chair, considering him for a moment.

"Later..... later it was because the assumption was that I kept it silent to protect them." There was a flash of teeth, of irritation then. It was little enough, but the most emotion she had showed since stepping through the door.

"I will tell you. But I am unsure how useful it will be now. I am not.... how did you put it.... someone the First Order would 'care' about, any longer."

She smiled, but it was more teeth than mirth, and it never reached her eyes.

"They were the ones who murdered me, after all."

[member="Darth Osano"] [member="Samson"]

 

[Darth Osano]

[member="Irajah Ven"] | [member="Samson"]

She didn't seem to believe his sincereity when he said sentiment. That was okay. Maleagant didn't believe it either. "If you know of any others who share your disposition towards Carnifex and his bastard halfwit of an uncle, he would be happy to hear of them. He would very much like to speak to them, if he has not already."

It was more difficult to ascertain most Sith's disposition towards Carnifex now that he was Emperor. Before you could usually tell just by dropping the name. Most of them got all starry eyed. It made Maleagant want to hurl. Now they all got real quiet and reserved. Probably because Maleagant's job was to oversee the capture and interrogation of people who had even the slightest bit of heretical thoughts locked up inside them. If only they knew. So sad. But what Irajah revealed next was sadder still.

"They were the ones who murdered me, after all."

The First Order murdered Doctor Irajah Ven? Really? What an utterly unprecedented turn of events. Maleagant would have never dreamed that a government which would gleefully order nine out of every ten naval crewmen to brutally the tenth in a public plaza blood orgy would stoop so low as extra-judicial murder. Absolutely shocking. Especially with all their relentless banter regarding their allegiance to law and order. Oh well. That was the price to be paid for divulging state secrets, or microcosmic, rogue nation-state secrets in this case. Loose lips sunk ships, although judging by the fact that the Zambranos still existed and the First Order had - for all intents and purposes - won its war against the Galactic Alliance, the only ship that had been sunk was Irajah Ven.

Was there really no sense of justice in this galaxy? It certainly put to rest all those myths about the Force being sentient and craving balance.

"I suspected foul play. Not from the First Order, however..." He said, somewhat contemplatively. Their investigation into the fire had appeared thorough. Maybe it had only been an appearance after all. Something to think about another time. Still, time to move on. "When the SIS came to see you, what did they ask? What did you tell them?"

 

[Kuzo]

"I don't believe the majority of the Order is aware of what happened. The actions of a well placed and powerful madwoman...."

She trailed off, frowning for a moment. She could feel the shift in [member="Samson"], attuned to the slightest change in her disposition, and she shook her head once, as if to remove something from the place in front of her eyes.

Hazel eyes refocused sharply on [member="Darth Osano"], regarding him thoughtfully for a moment.

"I told them everything."

She stood, stepping lightly across the living room. Lips stayed bowed in that trace of frown as she scanned the shelves. Carefully she reached out. A small holo-projector had been upset in the rifling, and she set it to rights.

"Everything they cared about anyway. What I knew about Panatha's defenses. Drawings of the interior of the areas of Vain Hollow and the Capital that I had access to. Security protocols- at least as they were when I left. I was never under the impression that the Zambranos considered me a particular threat to them. Why would they? So it would surprise me if they had changed much of their operations once I was no longer in the picture. Especially because until that.... visit.... I believed my life was forfeit if I ever told anyone. I've since learned there are worse things."

​She turned back to the masked man, regarding him heavily for a moment.

"I did not tell them about my experiences there. I saw no reason. They were not friends. Not allies. Simply a hungry beast, just as willing to snap something in half to get what it wanted, just without the self awareness of a butcher."

She shrugged. As she spoke, her hands had absently continued to right the items on the shelves- mostly books of the older, bound variety. From the proliferation here, even in such a modest apartment, her preference for such materials was clear.

"I did not tell them of the existence of a clone that shares my face, still in their hands. Or of the existence of Samson here."

Gaze moved to the mountain of a man, lips pursing thoughtfully.

"Kaine, not Braxus," she clarified the unspoken question she knew crossed the Cathar's mind. "The physical resemblance to his uncle surprised me as well."

Surprised? Initially it had sickened her. Now she felt nothing.

"Nor did I tell them about the research I was doing on their behalf.... or what that research would mean. Either if they were smart enough to complete it without me, which I doubt, or what that failure would necessitate."

Righting the last of the books, she turned toward him. Leaning against the corner of the shelf, she crossed her arms over her chest.

"The SIS was painfully short sighted. You, I suspect, are not. Would that be what you are seeking? Or would it be wasted on you?"

 

[Darth Osano]

[member="Irajah Ven"] | [member="Samson"]

So Samson was a clone of Kaine who just happened to look like Braxus? That wasn't how cloning worked. At least, not how it should have worked. There were no Jango Fett clones who came out looking like anyone other than Jango Fett, barring the mutants. Must have been a bad batch. Maybe the hairbrush she swiped for DNA had belonged to a different mouth-breather than she thought. Maleagant was not a scientist; the subtleties of cloning would be forever lost on him. He decided that since only one of them here was a doctor, he would just take her word for it. Science often sounded like magic when explained to someone unlearned. No reason to get hung up on it right now. There would be time to lose sleep over it later.

"We know the planet's defenses. Vain Hollow in particular. Layout and armament. Down to the number of stones in the foundation." Hyperbole as usual, but Maleagant knew more than most would expect him to. "They make some token changes every so often. Such is their way. Their hubris clouds their judgement and they do not think to suspect infiltrators couriered in by malcontents."

Maleagant was not here to discuss architecture, floor plans, or security positions. He had all that no matter how often those simpletons tried to switch gears.

"What we would like to know is any weaknesses in their... Personality you might have come across during your stay."

Did a savage dog have a personality? Was mindless bloodlust that complicated?

"Something exploitable. A gap in the psychological armor, so to speak."

There was not a lot of psychological profiling that could be gleamed from spying on Kaine and Braxus through a remote camera from several dozen meters away. That and the fact that most of the time the spy drones exited the room if either of them entered. It was too great a risk that they might get caught. Unless they were preoccupied with drowning a sack of puppies or whatever they did in their leisure time. Still, here was this doctor. Not a psychologist, obviously, but someone trained to medically evaluate people. Someone who had spent an awful amount of time around these people and who had moved from fearing them, to despising them, to feeling... Well, nothing, apparently.

Hopefully it was the sort of malignant apathy that permitted violations of patient-doctor confidentiality.

 

[Kuzo]

"Almost everything Braxus ever said to me was a lie," she said bluntly. "I don't know what about him was real and what was the act. He was willing to go to ridiculous lengths to assure my compliance, and his reach within the First Order, at least at the time, was concerning."

"I can tell you that both men were nearing terminal stages of dark side corruption last I saw them. At the rate they were accumulating it, I imagine they will have transferred to new hosts very soon, if they haven't already. My work for them was meant to be finding a cure- you can imagine my pleasure at never having cracked that mystery for them."

She looked thoughtful for a moment, turning over a few things in her mind before continuing.

"They have, as far as I could see, a truly unshakeable loyalty to each other. Threaten one and the other will appear. Which I am sure you already know..... Arrogance. A desire to have everything to their liking.... or baring that, to claim that it is all part of a larger plan. And if that is the case or not is hardly relevant. The ego shared between the two could fuel a star- but in a way it makes them dismissive of small threats. They certainly don't consider me one."

There was no hurt or malice in her voice at that. Truthfully, she'd much rather they underestimate her.

She paused, remembering when [member="Carach"] had helped her step out from under their thumb, and his explanation of what he had done to her guards.

"Mentalism is all but impossible on their kind as I'm sure you are aware- but they are not immune to the White Current, at least, not by strength of race and blood. I don't know how trained either are in anything like that, but their genetics won't protect them."

Hazel eyes tracked back to [member="Darth Osano"] finally, having been distant in her recitation.

"They truly consider themselves above the repercussions and consequences of mortals. If they do not actually believe they are gods, they believe they are the next closest thing. I don't know if any of that helps you."