[CNS Run-On] Betrayal from within...

Verpine Trader Zii’kclack
Leaving the Orian System
Hyperspace

Team madman was sitting in the cargo hold waiting to reach the smuggler’s moon. Roxas had removed his helmet and was adjusting the vocoder, so it would disguise his voice when he spoke. When he tested it, his voice was deep and metallic and he sounded like Ironman. He put his helmet back on and the seals wined closed.

“So experiment 471, what did you mean about your eye? I can’t see through an eye patch.” The madman giggled.

“I thought I sent you an image with the rest of the stuff?” Roxas asked slightly confused.

“Oh, yes I see it now…..very interesing...have there been any changes with your vision?” The crazed Alchemist replied as he thumbed through the stuff Roxas had sent him.

“No.”

“Why the eyepatch?”

“I like to screw with SHADOW. You did notice just now that I wasn’t wearing a patch right?” The Mandalorian stated not really joking, but proud of his statement.

“Wasn’t paying attention...dang it, I missed it!” Macron laughed to himself.

“Are you planning on helping your usurper?” The Mandalorian asked the alchemist.

The madman didn’t answer he had gone silent with the study of the experiments the Mandalorian had sent him.

Maelous piped in “Did you say you like screwing with SHADOW?”

“Yes I did. I’m tired of them following me all the time, so I screw with them and make games out of them tailing me.” Roxas said with a giggle.

Nar Shaddaa
Vertical City Reconstruction District

The pair of Sadowans had moved out to the crowded promenades of Nar Shaddaa after Methyas had brought Teu up to speed on everything that had occurred since he left on the trail of the traitor. The newfound Quaestor had taken in the details quickly, understanding her former apprentice and his quirks a little better than the other Sadowans may have. As they walked about the promenade, the pair talked idly as they listened to the hushed conversations about them. Finally, Teu's brow furrowed for a moment before she asked, the previous discussion having run through her head for the last few minutes, "Wait, you said that you thought the network had been decommissioned, what did you mean by that?"

A smirk crossed the Miraluka's face before he spoke again, "I figured Malik or Xanos would have told you, before the Crusade, I helped form SHADOW, an intelligence agency to keep us informed against the actions of potential enemies.

"Unfortunately, the agency itself fell into disarray as the Crusade brought out attention away from Orian; of course the loss of Kalia also took its toll on the agency. So as such once Malik was appointed Consul, it was decided that we shutdown the agency. The few agents that remained have lent their skills to me as a sort of...information broker."

The woman listened to the Miraluka's words intently, after all, she knew that there had been an agency which operated under the command of Marka Ragnos before she had taken the reigns once more. Sadly, the agency had been so secretive and clandestine that nobody knew what had happened to it, even Malik had not said a word of it to her. Their discussion seemed to be completely lost on those around them, thankfully. Even as they spoke, the people around them seemed lost in their own private little worlds, oblivious to the pair of Jedi amongst them.

Finally, Teu responded, "I see, but I had heard that some of our agents were still active in Orian; keeping an eye on our members."

Methyas only shook his head as he heard this, an almost disappointed look on the Jedi's face as he responded, "Unfortunately no, they are not mine. I have my own ways of knowing what's going on within the Clan without the use of my limited network of agents. As for those ''SHADOW'' agents..."

A sigh seemed to escape him as he considered his next words carefully, his Force-gifted sight carefully analysing the figures about them before his better judgment clued in and his voice began to resound within her head, "Not all of the agents within Shadow were loyal to the Clan after the Horizon pandemic and fewer still remained loyal when the One Sith attacked. The splintering of Dlarit and the formation of the Warhost fractured SHADOW far beyond repair.

"This traitor now, unfortunately isn't the first I've had to track down. Some have gone to the Organization...as much as it pains me to admit such a blow against us; and others have gone to the One Sith or other discrete agencies. I've been able to neutralize a bulk of their attempts to harm us, but I'm not always successful."

The news was a little unsettling to take in, while Methyas had always looked out for the Clan's well-being, he was only one man with who knew how few people at his side. The thought that hostile eyes could be watching them at all times, especially now so far from Brotherhood space. Teu shifted a little, her eyes still watching the people all around them cautiously. The enemies of Sadow had more eyes and resources now, for the most part any "SHADOW Agent" their people encountered would be working for their enemies. While Teu was left to her thoughts, Methyas could feel and see the strands of fate around him shifting and singing in the Force as events unfolded; Locke was in trouble and no doubt Mirado was working his way towards him, no cause for alarm yet.

It was then that Teu interrupted, his thoughts, "Have you considered going to the Hutts? Not speaking to them directly of course, but did you consider that our traitor may go to one of them for a sale?"

Methyas felt almost dumbfounded, one of the largest information brokers on Nar Shaddaa and he had seemingly overlooked them as he sent his own agents out while working his miniscule network; it was a good thing Teu had arrived when she did it seemed, "No, I had not. Let's go see what entertainment the Hutts have for us tonight, it will give me a chance to check in with my operatives."

Nar Shadaa
The Vertical City
Reconstruction District

It was a long time before Locke finally awoke, tilting his head and squinting his eyes. He had no idea how long it had actually been. There was a tingling feeling in his head that distantly reminded him of a stun baton hit that seemed like it had been ages ago. As he continued to come around, Locke felt numbing pain in his wrists, realizing that they were bound tightly with some sort of cord above his head. He seemed to be held up by them somehow, which would explain why they hurt so much.

Eyes opening, Locke tried to look around without moving his head. There was a man there. He had some ugly-looking tentacles coming out of his head. Must have been a Twi'lek. A towering, hairy shape next to him must have been a Wookiee. There was no one else in the dimly-lit space, but tall, cylindrical containers ringed the open space and seemed to expand off into the darkness, pipes criss-crossing the ceiling above them and the edges of the floor below.

"Hey, he's awake, " another voice said, this one behind Locke. So there was at least one more individual in the room. The Twi'lek turned and approached Locke, mouth spreading in a grin, barring pointed teeth.

"Aren't you pretty?" Locke mumbled.

"Oh, this one has a sense of humor, " the Twi'lek said. "That's great." He suddenly drew back his fist and punched Locke hard in the gut, knocking the wind out of him.

"Ouch, " Locke breathed. "You don't know what you're dealing with, do you?"

"Don't I?" The Twi'lek's grin seemed to widen.

Locke reached for the Force, intent on wiping the grin off that smug face, but there was nothing there. What had once been life and power was now just a vast emptiness, like a missing limb. Oh great, he thought.

He must have shown something on his face, because the Twi'lek just chuckled. "Oh yes, you won't be harming us with the Force. We know all about your tricks. After the Vong War, trade in ysalamiri increased drastically."

Locke heard the chirping now. That was great, another nail in his proverbial coffin. Distantly, Locke thought Macron would have found this whole situation pretty amusing. He pictured the Alchemist's gauntlet smashing this Twi'lek's face and the Madman gleefully taking over. Of course, that wasn't happening, thankfully. It was doubtful this Twi'lek would be anywhere near as creative as the Elder was.

"So tell me, " the alien continued, "why are the Jedi interested in the Smuggler's Moon all of a sudden?"

Locke noted that he didn't say which Jedi he meant. Did they think Locke was from the Jedi Order, or had they been in contact with the traitor he was here to hunt? Had the leak gone that far? It would be difficult to stamp out if it had. He hoped it had not come to that.

"No answer? How many others are coming?"

"It's just me, " Locke said.

The Twi'lek laughed. "As if. One more chance. Tell us, or this gets fun."

"You don't know fun, " Locke growled.

"Very well, " the Twi'lek said, still smiling. At a wave of his hand, the Wookiee came forward and unhooked something above Locke. Tied as he was, the Dark Jedi fell forward and was roughly lowered chest down onto a table nearby. A tray filled with thick nails was laid on a lower shelf under his head as his wrists were attached to something above him.

"Do you recognize these?" The Twi'lek said.

"Look like giant nails to me, " Locke replied, a growing sense of foreboding building in the back of his mind.

"They're actually called Screws, even though they don't exactly work like screws." As the Twi'lek spoke, Locke's clothing was sliced away from his back. He felt cold fingers probing around it, pushing against the skin.

"There, " a new voice said, grabbing one of the nails - Screws, they were called - off the table. A few moments later it was drilled into Locke's back. He couldn't help thrashing as pain shot out from the entry point. As it subsided, the spot throbbed, but he could handle it. He would have to. He wasn't going to give these guys the time of day.

More were added after the first, each one sending a new stab of pain through Locke's back. Soon it felt like they were everywhere, like having a dozen small knife wounds. As he cried out and the world seemed to grow dim with each new Screw, Locke distantly thought this was excessive. Weren't they supposed to question him again? Were they trying a new form of art? He would have laughed, if not for gritting his teeth. He could feel warm blood running down his back. Surely he would lose consciousness soon. What was the idea here?

Finally, they stopped. The Screws were still there, each one a growing pulse of agony. The Twi'lek spoke again. "Do you want to talk now?"

"Go...to...hell, " Locke managed between his teeth.

The Twi'lek just laughed as a hum began rising as if turned on by a switch. Locke's howls soon drowned out his laughter.

---

Trotting down the street, Marc weaved from shadow to shadow. He had avoided or killed all his pursuit save for one, while at the same time managing to track the men who had kidnapped the Dark Jedi he had encountered. Whoever was following him had not responded to his traps and feints, so either they were very good, or did not want to kill him. Maybe they were one of Locke's allies. Judging by some of the feints they had all but ignored, Marc had his suspicions that they were Force Sensitive and had turned their abilities toward tracking.

Marc did not see any reason for Locke Sonjie to stay alive. He had caused enough trouble for Orian in the past, and would no doubt do so in the future. However, Marc's superiors had deemed him an accessory to this operation; someone to keep an eye on, but not to engage. His main goal was to ensure information did not fall into the wrong hands and eliminate the traitor, if he could.

Yet here was, chasing down the former Consul anyway. The man's mind no doubt held an untold number of secrets that would bring chaos to Orian if released. Whoever he had talked to had to die, and he had to be reclaimed - dead or alive. Marc's supervisors in Project Ghost would not accept failure. The stakes were too great. With SHADOW dissolved, and other known Foxtrot Uniform's searching for the traitor, it fell to Marc to deal with Locke.

Perhaps his pursuer would join in as well, whoever he was.

Nar Shadaa
The Vertical City
Reconstruction District
Sketchy Docking Bay



“They’ll be landing soon,” the Devaronian said with a sly grin. “If the information’s correct, it’s just a couple Verpine and a load of pricey baradium.” he shifted his feet, cradling the blaster rifle as he smoked a deathstick. Around him hung loose cables amid the general filth of the “private” docking bay. Bits of trash blew about in the open wind that curled into the landing area. The lights were dim, and the furnishings few. A sad ASP labor droid clanked and rocked back and forth in the corner miserably. It was not a welcoming environment.

“Echuda,” replied the Rodian mercenary. “Theey are nooot so tough. Good tech, no stomaaach for a fight in smaaall numbers. Stupid bugs. Weak prey.” The Rodian checked his blades and heavy blaster pistol. “I gooot something for the cruuunchhhies.” He whisked his Rodian blades back and forth. “Bug for dinner tonight.”

“I’m counting on it,” smirked the Devaronian thug as he gestured at seven heavily armed and armored Gamorrean warriors standing behind them both. “Gelda wants the baradium badly. It’s high grade stuff and hard to come by these days. I hear her contacts will pay top dollar. Don’t get any ideas of a double-cross though,” snarled the devilish alien. “Or we’ll slag you, green boy.”

In front of them a weathered Verpine trader transport landed slowly. the transport’s feet extended slowly as it fit into the space. The landing was tricky for such a small dock, but the ship managed it perfectly. Individually weak or not the Verpine were excellent pilots- or anything technical really for that matter. The ship was largely unarmed except for a single blaster mostly for show.

“Easy prey,” sneered the Devaronian. “Here they come.” The gangplank walkway dropped slowly with a hiss of mist. “Take them!”

Sepros
Temple of Sorrow
Consul’s office

Malik looked up as he sensed his assistant was approaching, sighing as he saw she was carrying yet more datapads and reports. It felt like all he had been doing the last couple of days was looking at those things, first worrying about making sure the Warhost was ready for the next leg of Darth Ashen’s Crusade, then he’d learned that not only did at least one of the SHADOW mainframes still exist but someone had managed to acquire the access codes for it and had left the system. At least his own agents had informed him that whoever the culprit was the person was headed to Nar Shaddaa and several Sadowans had already traveled there. On top of that he had received reports that unknown agents were tailing some of his Sadowans as well, at the moment it was unclear who it was, the only thing that was certain was that it wasn’t SHADOW operatives since most of the few remaining ones now seemed to work directly for Methyas, the Neti once again made a mental note that he needed to find out what his Rollmaster was up to, it wasn’t an ideal situation when he wasn’t sure if he could trust either his Proconsul or his Rollmaster.

He turned to his assistant, “What’s this? More bad news? Or have my agents finally uncovered what Xanos might be up to after becoming Proconsul?” the assistant placed one of the datapads in front of him, “Am urgent report came in from Nar Shaddaa my lord.” Malik picked it up and the information was decrypted as he touched it, he quickly read what it said and sighed again. “It looks like someone is planning to ambush young Macron and his party when they land.” His assistant looked at him worriedly, “Shouldn’t we warn them?” the Neti shrugged. “It won’t do much good, according to my information they have just landed.”

Nar Shadaa
The Vertical City
Reconstruction District
Sketchy Docking Bay

Maelous dropped his helmet over his head, there was a whir followed by a click and then a hiss as the helmet activated. He stood along with the others and placed himself near the rear of the group. As expected Roxas moved ahead and the group followed. He made note as Syntari positioned herself near Ar’rik. The Sith Knight had decided there was something between them, and that it would probably end badly for Ar’rik. He would need to keep an eye on this.

As he began to move he noticed Jade eyeing him for a brief moment just before she fell into step in front of him. The doors of the ship opened and the seven disembarked into the docking bay.

“Could this place be any sleazier,” Roxas wondered aloud as they moved towards the bay doors.

The Devaronian stepped out from behind a crate along with four other beings, his blaster rifle pointed straight a Roxas. “It could,” he said, the deathstick spilling ash as he spoke.

Macron moved in front of the sithspawn “Gentleman please we want no trouble. We are just here to…. enjoy the many pleasures,” he said making a grand gesture with his hands.

The Rodian eyed the alchemist a moment, “And we want your stuff” he yelled flashing his vibroblades, “and you’re gonna give it to us!”

There was silence as the members of the Brotherhood readied themselves for the coming fight. They all knew using lightsabers or showing their affinity for the Force could mean more trouble than they wanted.

“These are mine Krev,” the voice coming from behind the scoundrels before them, “I suggest you leave.”

Four figures stepped into the light of the docking bay clad in matching red armor, weapons at the ready.

“Sleema, get out of here. This is our haul,” The Devaronian called over his shoulder, his eyes never leaving his prey.

“I got orders. So shut your kriffing mouth or I’ll put you down too!” yelled the red team leader.

Macron cackled, “It seems you have reached an impasse. Perhaps you should both leave before we kill you all,” a slight smile on his face.

Roxas smiled from under his helmet, taking Macron’s words as a single. Without hesitation he rushed the Devaronian’s team.

Nar Shadaa
The Vertical City
Reconstruction District
Sketchy Docking Bay

As the Mandalorian charged the stupid scum bags that dared to get in the way of CNS, the blades in his gauntlets extended. His movements were a blur to all those that weren’t trained enough to see them. His steps were precise and with each slight motion a spray of crimson filled the air. His Jakelian knife dance was truly a sight to behold. The armor was better than Roxas had anticipated, he was expecting it would need more adjustment to not hinder his movement. He was just as fast as he would have been without it.

The blade on the left gauntlet slashed the devaronian’s face as the blade on the right cut through his buddy’s thigh. Roxas was low and fast. He cleaved and arm here and gashed a throat there. Each time the Mandalorian’s arm went back to come in for another attack, the blood would fling off the blade and splatter randomly. He was toying with his prey some, but for only two reasons. The first, he like gangsters because no matter what he did to them he never felt bad, it was almost like his philosophy with rapists. The second was to test his armor, but the fools were so slow they would never get a shot off. It would depress him if he was insane, but luckily he has other things to worry about; like the stoolies clad in red armor about to open fire.

Nar Shaddaa
The Vertical City
Reconstruction District
Sketchy Docking Bay

The leader of the armored group had watched the short fight impassively, the thugs couldn’t have been very skilled considering how easy one guy had taken them out using only blades.

He looked down at the pebbles held in his armored hand and slowly shook his helmeted head. All of a sudden the pebbles had been launched from his hands and into the group of thugs some passing straight through them as if they had met no resistance at all.

This caught the attention of the group that had just left the transport, the big guy amongst them clad in red armor seemed to be giggling at the display of ballistakinesis he had just witnessed.
The leader of the armored group pointed his gloved hand, thin streams of cortosis weave barely visible, at the person in black and red armor at the rear of the group still standing at the bottom of the ramp.

“You have someone who belongs to us,” he said, “hand him over and the rest of you will be spared.”

Nar Shaddaa
The Vertical City
Reconstruction District
Sketchy Docking Bay

Shirai reacted swiftly as he dealt a swift elbow to one of his assailants brave enough to fight them. All of a sudden pebbles were thrown their way. Faster than usual they sped at them at an alarming rate. But Shirai was used to blaster fire and quick timing was an experience that was burned into a Dark Jedi very quickly. The Warrior held out a hand and an invisible barrier blocked them from doing damage. Curious helmet tilting cruised around the red armored individuals as they witnessed the display of similar Telekinesis.

It was troublesome to use the Force while on Nar Shadaa. However it seems they had ran into a quarrel that would demand their immediate powers. The leader of the group pointed to one of theirs, Maelous, and called for his head basically. "And the rest of us will be spared?" Shirai barked with building incredulity.

"Obviously you don't know who you're dealing with." Macron said stepping forward. The strike team was also realizing who they were dealing with. Caution just went out the window just as fast as it had closed.

The Sith Warriors blood boiled as his lightsaber flew into his hand. He had feared he would be dealing with bantha fodder for this mission to Nar Shadaa. But this was dangerous but pleasant change in plans. It seemed that their badass team of Dark Jedi had ran into- "The Jensaarai." Maelous said finishing his thought with a scathing look at the group.

"I was never one for holding back anyways." Shirai threw his cloak off. His berserker side was always getting the best of him, he had never battled Jensaarai before. He opened his mind too his clanmates as he created a battle meld between them. This would link their minds easier, making them fight a little bit better. Evade a little bit harder. And eventually they would overwhelm their opponents with such acute coordination.

It sounded like a good plan in Shirai's head. Which was a quick afterthought, for he ignited his yellow lightsaber and yelled, "Nobody got time for that!" Then Force Leaped at them.

Nar Shadaa
Undisclosed, Shoddy Spaceport

"Karking hell," Syntari swore under her breath. The Jensaari...of all the enemies she had expected to find on Nar Shadaa, these were not included in that list. Her hand drifted to her lightsabre, though she didn't draw it. She was well aware of her own abilities and knew, realistically, that her chances of surviving a direct assault was slim to none.

Her mind whirled into overtime. A long-distance strike was obviously the only way to go, especially now that her comrades had already engaged an open and far-too-direct attack upon their opponents. The battle-meld that Shirai had established roiled with emotions that were entirely foreign to her: the urge to attack, attack, ATTACK roared through her blood with Roxas's voice as he did just that, and the urge to...

She shook her head. How in the name of the Force could Macron be imagining experimenting with these things in the middle of a fight?

Then the meld rang with an all too-familiar presence that she immediately recognized as Ar'rik. The Hunter had, of course, joined up with Maelous and was now trying to fight off what looked to be a foe the two of them could manage. Nevertheless, such extreme levels of paranoia swept through Syntari that she could barely move.
She forced the feeling away. That would not help the group, at all.

Syntari activated her lightsabre, the snap-hiss as the purple blade ignited drawing the attention of a straggler. Great...Just what I'd wanted to avoid. She took a deep, steadying breath and began to dance.

Nar Shadaa Dock

The scene was full of blood and awful guts. With the the Jensaari warriors and the Gammoean thugs this was an awful dance in the old dock. Hell was to pay. And Hell would be paid well in this dirty place.

As Syntari, Maelous, Jade, Roxas and Macron swelled with the battle-hate- One Mind connected with them-- . “They wear Cortosis,” the Madman sent telepathically to all of the strike team as his readouts from the helm readouts showed the taste of a full analysis. “”Watch your sabers.”

Macron tapped his gauntlet. “Blinky, you will tap into the information feed to this dock and render this bit invisible,” the madman growled as all hell erupted in front of him. Behind him the advanced IT-3 droid got to work on the cables. He looked coolly to the Jensaari leader. “Death.” His mind communicated to the team. “They have Cortosis. Beware your lightsabers…”

The combat- was awesome. It was a completely coordinated dance of death. Around them all Jade Sadow worked her hatred in a deep Krath way. The horror she emanated worked on the Jensaari in a bad way. The miasma of evil was thick around her, and her allies.

The Jensaari hunters were not expecting what they received. Syntari’s mind worked overtime. She knew they had cortosis armor as the meld kicked in. “Use your advantage” came the mind meld that Shirai had initiated. One of the Jensaari hunters trapped her with a crude blue saber. Syntari fought the man to a standstill using superior saber tactics. Sparks flew and spat as she faced the Jensaaari down.

Roxas faced the front. A Devaronian, a Rodian, and fear were quickly done. Maelous had already killed the base thugs. He knew exactly the tricks of the Jensaari hunters. As strong as they were they were vulnerable. The Mandalorian used non-Force tricks and nailed them with hard daggers to their jugular veins.

The Leaders put up a strong front in the Force. Priestess Jade stood to the side. The Fear and Krath sorcery wrapped around the legs of the Jensaaari warriors. Horror had found them.

Roxas moved in the main and used his Mandalorian armor to his advantage.

Maelous worked an awesome fight. He was strong, brutal, full of vengeance. One of the Gammorean Warriors stopped him down as she attempted to the Jensaari fold. Maelous is full of the Dark Side. “I have fought my way out and away from you,” cries the Warrior. “You have no power over me. And I will kill you.” Maelous brutally crushed her with an unlight saber.

Syntari moved forth with alacrity. She knew they were cortosis-laden. Her lightsaber kept the foe’s sabers off. The Dance was key- and the Dark Side was there. She knew the lightsaber was useless. A quick Force-enhanced draw stuck the cold blade deep into one of the opponents neck. She danced away from the enemy sabers.

Shirai got work done. Death was the Sith’s frame. Two Gamorrean thugs met their death quickly. The armored Sith worked his frame with the power of the Dark Side. The fight was Dath

Macron chuckled as the leader of the Jensaarai attacked him. “I am weak,” spoke the Dark Jedi. “Kill Me!” Macron grinned. “If you can!”

The Jensaari Equite warrior was true to form. He knew the Dark Jedi relied on their lightsabers, as it was in Jensaari lore. He counted on his armor and lightsaber. Ballistakinesis would be the saviour. Rocks flung themselves at his foe. He fought with power.

Except that the Jensaaari was in trouble. The rocks-stopped. Macron grinned as the fight erupted around him. “My friends, kill, them” the Elder giggled as he clenched his Fist in the back round. “The Leader is now dead.” the Madman chuckled as he held the the Jensaari huntmaster in an implacable Dark Side force grip. “You wish to experience telekinesis. Now- you Shall in the Way of the Sith.” Macron splashed the Jensaari's crude lightsaber off his own Armor Fist in a side-slap gesture. The Crush of the Force was evil. Macron shook the Jensaari like an unprepared ragdoll. Sadows were masters of telekinesis.

The Jensaari Huntmaster was thrown about the bay like a hapless rag doll. Every bone in his body was broken, and broken again and then crushed with rocks as the Force whirlwind took him. Sadow initiates were known to be well studied with telekinesis. “Now you know.”Macron chuckled as the body was broken.

Nar Shadaa Dock

The fight was like filling a long lost hunger deep within her soul. It called to her, though she could blame that feeling on the mind melt they all had together, it felt like a second home. Her muscles itched to go into combat. Her veins craved the sweet taste of vengeful blood. And her senses took powerful control. It was time she got to play with more than just her lightsaber, in fact, she would be almost tempted to thank her soon to be helpless victims for giving her the chance to stretch her legs.

Tapping deep into the darkside, letting it almost completely take her over, her purple eyes flashed and danced with the sparks that Syntari was creating...at least that was what she would claim was reflecting in her eyes. Though few would know the real reason. Reaching out she sent the same feelings as a child locked in a dark room, sitting in their bed, pulling the covers up to their chin as they stared at the closet. The fear and trembling skin, wondering not only what was behind the door, but when it would strike. She wanted those same feels to reach their enemies. A distraction sure, but wouldn't it make their death all the more cowardess and less honourable if they were?

Using tricks she had learned from not only the madman, fighting mere feet away, she extended her dark tendrils. She smiled evilly at the thought. Her apprentice had once called them that, he had done very well, until called away, her most promising, she had to admit had also taught her a few tricks. They snaked around the Jensaarai and their thugs like the dark fire of a dragon, burning with a cold sense of fear and hate, enough to make any skin crawl.

She heard Macron bate the Jensaarai leader, "I am weak...Kill me!...If you can!' Oh this was going to be good, it just too bad she wasn't able to watch the massacre Macron would undoubtedly dish out. She had one Gamorrean thugs move towards her, daring the dark whispers of death. Reminding her of the one child dared to go into the haunted passage, trying to prove his worth to the other young men. She grinned, the sharpness peeking through her red lips her only warning. The Gamorrean inched towards her as though trying to assess her reactions. Though Jade wanted to have fun with her new playmate, she had other plans. Wrapping herself up in the same dark tendrils she sent out, she almost cloaked herself, casting a shadow figure that moved as her own puppet. The Gamorrean seemed distracted, maybe even slightly disorientated as his opponent almost spilt in two. Jade went to move to take her striking blow, when to her surprise Maelous came up behind the pig faced creature, grabbed the things head and twisted brutally and quickly. The snap of the neck sent a strong message to anyone that was nearby. She stared at the Dark Knight, she had to admit that part of her wanted to smack him for taking her kill, but it also gave her a chance to really take a look at him. Yes he could be of good help in her quest...though she had to be sure he was as dedicated to the Clan as she had heard he was.

Maelous gave the Krath Arch Priestess a once over. He hadn't seen much of her before, but heard of her from Macron, she was a Sadow with him. Though he wasn't sure, he could have sworn he caught her looking at him once in a while, and that made him a bit curious as to why. He had seen her square off against the Gamorrean but couldn't resist the chance to walk up and take part in the fight. It would be his blatant way to say 'I'm here, you wana talk, meet me face to face,' or something like that.

Jade stood up and nodded to him as Macrons message resounded nearby.

" My friends, kill them..."

With pleasure...She smirked.

Nar Shadaa
The Vertical City
Reconstruction District

The structure was not much different than many in the Reconstruction District. Topped by jagged, half-finished superstructure, several levels of night-black durasteel belched steam or smoke into the air. Below that, causeways connected the structure to others just like it. It was not remarkable. It held no unique trait. Nothing made it stand out among the many buildings of Nar Shadaa.

But this was where Marc had tracked the group who had taken the Bakuran Dark Jedi to. Now he just had to find a way inside and develop a plan, without having any intel about what they were about to face. Beyond that, it was easy.

Approximating where the group had entered the building, Marc noted no windows or other openings except a few vents. The former Consul must have been deeper inside. Marc sighed; a single blaster bolt fired at a distance was not going to do it this time.

Suddenly the air seemed to stir around Marc and he felt himself being pushed back against the nearest wall, a thick arm across his chest. Despite years of experience and training, he had barely had any warning. In the dim light of the alcove, he found himself inches away from a hard face, eyes covered with some kind of reflective visor.

"SHADOW?" a deep voice whispered.

"Yes, " Marc said. Did this man know the truth? Marc was not about to find out. The man must have seen him killing the other members of the captors' team who had tried to follow. It was probably the only reason he was still alive.

"Stay out of my way, " the man said. He let go and jumped from the alcove without another word. Marc crept to the edge, looking over it before slowly letting himself down. Readying his blaster, he crept toward the building, following the Dark Jedi toward the entrance.

---

Locke felt warm carpet on his arms as he awoke. Then he realized they were thick, hairy arms. It seemed the wookiee was holding him up. As he came to, pain shot through the Krath's back, a vivid reminder of what he had recently gone through. His shirt was missing, goose bumps forming on his skin in the cold room.

"Who turned on the AC?" He muttered.

"Still awake?" Someone laughed. Locke thought it might be the Twi'lek. Locke giggled quietly at a thought of what he might do to the man if he ever got free of this.

"When you get free of this, " a voice said. It was sweet, harmonious, like beautiful music, but sad at the same time. Locke had never really noticed that before. As his vision cleared, he looked up slightly. Could it really be?

"Amelia…" he whispered.

"Who?" the Twi'lek asked. "Are you finally ready to talk?"

Locke ignored him. Of course, she was always there. And not there. He still hadn't completely reasoned that out. At least he knew she wasn't something caused by the Force; that void still existed where it would normally be.

Then he heard a pop and a hiss in the distance. After a few moments, the room seemed to grow hazy. Hallucinogens? Maybe that was why he saw her now, or maybe not.

"Go away. You're no help here, " Locke said quietly.

He meant it for Amelia, but it was the Twi'lek who answered. "Oh, I'm afraid we're not going anywhere. Not till you talk. How many are there? Who else is coming?"

"Boss, " someone muttered, " that gas…"

"Kark your gas, " the Twi'lek said. He brandished something in his hand: a long metal rod, glowing at the end. "I will have answers. Get the masks."

Abruptly, something changed. Locke felt a prickling in his mind, a feeling. We come. Be ready. The quiet chirping of the ysalamiri was gone.

In his mind's eye, Locke gathered all of his mental strength. The world around him seemed to dim for a moment as he reached out, seizing the Force. Then the world pulsed; it was life. The gas leak was louder now. The men, more visible. The Wookiee's fur, more detailed. Amelia's face, more beautiful. She wore a determined look. Why was she determined?

"Why are you smiling?" the Twi'lek asked. He seemed a bit unsure of himself. Locke decided he was going to make that a whole lot worse. He played on the hallucinogens in the air, probing the alien's mind, forming a mental image and sliding it in there. Their minds linked, only Locke and the Twi'lek could see it, while the others stood dumbfounded and stared at their leader.

The gas swirling in the air gathered together, tendrils forming arms and legs, a head-shape separating from the main cloud. It slowly coalesced into the shape of a man, beams of light forming in his hands. They solidified into two crimson lightsabers. It's face turned toward the Twi'lek. Locke only saw the slightest edge of the face of a man he had met once before coming to Sadow, one who had briefly trained as a Dark Jedi. He had always dreamed of being powerful.

"I am the Emperor Arian Crass of the true Galactic Empire! There is no limit to my rule, not in time nor space!"

The Twi'lek quivered as the voice boomed, letting out a loud scream. "How can this be?" he shouted. "Where did you come from?"

It was not enough. Locke was too weak. The gas had gotten to him. It did something to the illusion he conjured, his mind running wild. The image of Arian Crass seemed to shift somehow - and then it shattered. Thick, dark tentacles like those on a massive sea creature burst from every side of the gelatinous blob that had been Arian, rushing toward the Twi'lek. His howls shocked the others to silence.

Then a shade moved in the background. The Twi'lek fell with a sliced neck. There was a distant thud, and then another. Then the illusion vanished as Locke snapped back to reality. Those were blaster bolts!

The shadow moved about the room, stabbing and slicing the other guard. The wookiee roared defiance and tried to throw it's elbow into the shade, but the shape jumped back as three blaster bolts hit the creature in the back.

Two familiar men emerged from the darkness, one kicking the fallen corpse of the Wookiee. They both wore breath masks.

"Well, he really is a carpet now, " Marc said.

"Get him down." Mirado ordered. "Can you hear us Locke?"

"I'm here, " Locke said. He sagged as the chains were cut; Marc was the only thing holding him up.

"Good, then it's time to leave, " Mirado said.

"But I just got here, " Locke mumbled.

"Trust me, this will not be a good place to be in about, how long?"

"30 seconds, " Marc said.

"Let's move." Mirado led, Marc all but carrying Locke.

"You rigged it to explode, didn't you?" Locke asked.

"Something like that, " Mirado answered. "Jump." When had they reached a window?

Locke was about to point out that he could barely stand, much less jump, when Marc shattered the glass with a kick and pushed Locke through. He found the energy to shout the first curse that came to mind before landing in a soft sea of something foul smelling. Another thud next to him must have been one of the others.

Then sound and darkness were wiped away as the building above exploded outward with a deafening boom, lances of fire racing out to momentarily cover the sky. "Dive!" Marc said, pushing into the bags of garbage and pulling Locke in with him just before pieces of debris rained down on them, hissing as it hit wet trash.

"I didn't see the other guy, " Marc breathed.

"He's alive. I can feel it, " Locke said.

"Then he probably smells a lot better than us."

Nar Shadaa
The Vertical City
Reconstruction District
Sketchy Docking Bay

The Sith Knight spun away from the Krath as Macron’s message entered his mind. I was already planning that, he thought and he moved towards one of the Jensaarai as he drew apon his hatred. He had to be faster than his former brothers in order to be effective here.

The battle raged on around him as his target noticed him and began to lift a hand that was full of durasteel balls. Maelous was on the warrior quickly gripping the outstretched wrist spilling the deadly weapons on too the ground. The exile dropped into a wide stance driving his free elbow into the ribs of his armored opponent. The Jensaarai slumped and Maelous drove his elbow into the same spot again, jerking the arm he held forward and was rewarded with an audible pop as the arm went limp.

The rage washed over the Sith like liquid fire, as his arms wrapped around the head of stumbling foe. He roared as he wrenched the helmet, the bone and nerves snapping under the pressure. He let go as the body dropped. A beast welled up inside him as decades of buried anger and pain crashed through the gates that had kept it back.

His eyes landed on another member of his former order as the figured moved in behind Syntari who was preoccupied. He had forgot about his clanmates and the thugs his mind focused only on those armored in red. He let his mind slip deeper into the dark side and lifted the half dozen fallen projectiles from the floor and hurled them at the foe, focusing the them on the unarmored spot on the back of the knee.

Two of the balls struck true, and before the man could hit the ground Maelous was on him driving his fist into the back of his armored skull. They crashed down together and fought to gain an advantage. The Knight came up on top and rained down blows on the face of the helmet. One after another trying to crack the helmet like an egg.

“Enough!” A voiced boomed behind him as he landed a final strike. Some of the anger slipped away as he stood and looked over his shoulder. Macron stood there eyeing him intently, “We need information, Maelous,” he said. The Sith Commander looked around, seeing that the fight had ended, their eyes watching him.

Maelous knelt and pulled a holopad from the half conscious Jensaarai and tossed it to the mad alchemist. He gripped the knee of the man where the projectile had ripped into his flesh, and dragged him toward the edge of the platform screaming. He no longer cared what the authorities of Nar Shadaa may see as he pulled his lightsaber, and pressed the emitter against the lens of the helmet. “Take this message to the Saarai-kaar,” he rasped as he ignited the saber.

The blade cut through the lens, just as it had when Maelous had killed his sister. He stood and threw the body off the edge of the platform. He moved back to the team and placed himself next to Jade and remained silent. He could feel her watching him, feel her probing with the Force. He let her as he opened himself to it.

The mad man cackled as he read over the data on the holopad. “Maelous, it seems your old friends had contacted the same Hutt that our prey is seeking to get information about you. How fortunate for them.” he laughed as he looked at the exile. The Knight opened himself to the Force, he let it flow through him, No point in hiding now, he thought, Let them see all they want.

Nar Shadaa
Space Port
Undisclosed Location

Syntari knelt some ways away, her lightsabre still in her hand. The madness had taken hold again, she could feel it in the Force; whatever clarity she'd held and maintained during her dance was now gone. How long would it be before it took complete control and she never saw the world as it was? How long before even the Force could not purge her of the taint of insanity?

She rose, deactivating her weapon as her eyes sought out Ar'rik. She didn't realize how much tension had knotted about her shoulders until she saw him, standing in the midst of the group, and that tension dissipated. She breathed a sigh of relief, not even caring that this reaction was so unusual for her and refusing to question the strangeness of the entire situation. Syn didn't care--this was the most she'd truly cared about anything other than herself, at least not since Cyril...

Except Cyril never existed, she reminded herself.

She shook her head and placed her lightsabre back on her belt. Now was not the time for that.

The Bpfasshi moved over to stand next to Maelous, who had the same look on his face that she'd had only a moment before. She placed a hand on his shoulder and he stirred, seeming to wake, though the barrage of his emotion through the Force did not cease. Syntari said nothing, did not even truly acknowledge him. What would be the point? He looked at her, nodded slightly, then refocused on the situation at hand. It wasn't the death that seemed to bother him so much as the circumstances behind it...interesting.

Now is not the time to analyze, she found herself thinking.

She shook her head and cleared the thought. Where had that come from?

Nowhere. It had been nothing. Nothing at all.
But it had been something.
No. Not now.

Syntari lingered on the edge of the group, barely hearing what anyone had said. The Force was saying something, saying...saying what?

"How did I get here?" She wasn't aware of herself speaking, wasn't aware of the words that came from her own mouth.

The Force flared.

She should not have come. She could feel the scream bubbling within her core, threatening to erupt, burst loose.

Now what?

Nar Shadaa
The Vertical City
Reconstruction District
Sketchy Docking Bay

Shirai's eyes were glazed in a unforeseen haze of rage as they put havoc on the ambush squad. No one would live to tell this tale, few did when they encountered them. Finally driving his lightsaber through a Gamorrean. The beast fell to its knees and the Sith Warrior kicked it over. Only did he realize that the rest of his team had dealt with the Jensaari in brutal fashion. The Mad Alchemist killing the leader very unceremoniously but still however the most amusing thing to him. Things were still kind of tensed when they focused their attention on Maelous. "We need information now." He heard the Dark Side Adept who was also giving him an unwavering gaze.

Shirai returned his weapon and walked towards the rest of the group. "We can get that from him. But I'm pretty sure we should be getting more visitors soon. Let's get out of here." He definitely did not want to get caught in another unwanted ambush.

"I'd rather our prey not get a head start on us." Jades said.

The Warrior was nodding in agreement when he looked too Syntari. He could feel some afflictions within the meld coming from her. It was beyond his understanding as to where it stemmed but he felt it. After a minute he assumed it was probably because of the battle. Macron stepped forward and was already calculating a next move. Shirai put in, "The mole is here, it shouldn't be long now." But eyes were still on Maelous as the group was making their move.

Nar Shadaa
Space Port
Undisclosed Location

“Maelous, it seems your old friends had contacted the same Hutt that our prey is seeking to get information about you. How fortunate for them.” Macron laughed as he looked at the exile. Around them the collected Dark Jedi shut down or holstered their respective weapons. The room stank of coppery blood and spilled guts. “I suggest we get moving. Blinky has dealt with the security feeds and cameras.” The Sith gestured at the hopped-up IT-3 droid. “Blinky, you will be leaving for safekeeping with our Verpine friends.”

“They are leaving?” asked Maelous as the Sith Knight checked his gear. “They just got here.” The Exile relished the bloody carnage. Jensaari had come looking for him and had been summarily slain. Surely more would be dispatched but next time they would be less cocky.

“They are,” replied Jade Sadow. One of the Verpine engineers had been killed by a Jensaari. The balls of durasteel had perforated his exoskeleton with many holes that dripped green goo. “Not without casualties.” The Verpine said not a word. They gathered their dead comrade and loaded him back onto the transport to be rendered into biomass.

“They care not for their dead,” commented Maelous. “The drone is just- dead.”

“That’s a fact,” smirked Roxas. “Dead is dead.” Behind him the Verpine returned from within the holding bay pushing a transport loaded with blocks of a hard, dull grey metal. On the center of the blocks rested a shiny sphere with blinking red lights.

“They care only for the biomass, as do I. Engineer Zzzclk'ik has a surprise for this facility,” chuckled the madman. “The baradium load that was… stolen… will erase any traces of our presence at an atomic level.” Macron opened his helm and grinned evilly. “Hell will descend on this building.”

“And provide a convenient distraction,” commented Syntari. “A bit brutal for my taste, but efficient. Not much left for experiments of any kind however.”

“I’m with Macron. Let’s get out of here,” commented Shirai as Ar’rik nodded. “This place won’t be worth a glowing bantha fart when that baradium gets done.”

“Courtesy of the Orian System,” Ar’rik said quietly. “They’ll be able to trace the isotope residues. Isn’t that a problem?” He looked at Syntari meaningfully.

The entire group headed for the downward turbolift as the Verpine ship debarked behind them.
“Not really,” giggled the Alchemist quietly. “The baradium isn’t from Orian. It’s from Anobis. A bit of deception, you see. Let’s move to the gas-bar and rendezvous with Jade’s contact’s.”

Nar Shadaa
Space Port
Undisclosed Location

From the shadows a figure watched Macron, Jade and the others with keen interest while cloaked in the Force. It seemed his visions where dead on about coming here as he followed them, making sure to keep his distance.

Macron could sense something elusive following them, yet he did not sense any danger just curiosity from whoever it was hiding. Being paranoid had it’s benefits as he giggled to himself.

“We’re being followed,” the Alchemist said quietly to the others, “whoever it is has cloaked themselves in the Dark Side, *giggle*, I can sense them not far behind us.” Shirai, Syntari, Maelous, Roxas, Ar'rik and Jade all glanced his way. “I don’t sense any danger from our hidden friend.”

“I feel nothing,” Jade replied as she had to stop herself from looking behind her.

"Nor do I," Roxas added.

“He has cloaked himself from our senses, but I know he is there, hehehe.” Macron was almost enjoying this little game of cat and mouse, whoever it was indeed powerful to hide from them but not powerful enough to completely evade his senses. “Keep moving, let’s not keep our contact watching, I’m sure our mysterious friend will reveal himself sooner or later.”

The rest of them nodded and carried on towards the gas-bar, however they all how their senses on alert in case of any hidden dangers, Macron and his paranoid nature had revealed something none of them had sensed.

Not too far away from them the mysterious figure following them now knew they were aware of his presence. Trust Macron out of all people to sense something, but he wasn’t to surprised by that. The Darksider kept his distance as if to cover there rear from possible dangers.

---
OOC: Just getting a feel for the run-on, you might want to check Ashura's wiki page as it's been updated to reflect the change in character, thanks.

Nar Shadaa
Scummy Quadrant
Gas Bar


“I expect the Orian System contacts will be here soon,” commented Darupla. “My contact has always been extremely precise.” The Duros smiled as best as his alien face could. “She has been very helpful. In fact, she concisely eliminated two of my competitors and delivered a message that they... respected.” The blue-skinned alien dropped a severed mummified finger onto the table. “I imagine that Ki-ho-to’s Coruscans are shut out now.”

His Kwi associate grunted. “I hope they won’t cause trouble.” The saurian gripped the handles of his customized, hot-rodded heavy blaster pistols. It was obvious that he knew them well, and knew their usage intimately. “You pay me well boss. I’ll slag ‘em if they get out of hand. We’re cool with the owner since he’s in your Black Sun pocket.”

“No need to be so crude,” the Duros remarked. “We’ll exchange information and such. I’m hoping that they can hurt that damn Hutt. Yes, I know the green fatty slugs rule here on Nar Shadaa. But we Black Sun overpower them on a galactic level. Especially now, after the Vong atrocities. No, my enforcer. I know you have killed many. Guard me well.” The budding Vigo gestured to the Gank killers massing about the bar area and throughout the venue. “We are well protected. This is not a hostile meeting- instead, I am paying off a debt.” He gulped and loosened his collar. “One does not want a Darksider after them. They are very hard to kill, and always have friends that are also.”

“A Sith?” The Kwi chuckled. “They’ve been extinct for years. Old holovid scare stories for the spawn. Oooo! The bad Sith is coming for you!” The reptile made a face and leered at his boss.
“I’m coming to get yooouuu Darupla!”

““Shaddup. They exist still, you fracking idiot. I’ve seen it myself.” The Duros gestured at his enforcer to be quiet as a group of humanoids entered the bar. “This might be them.”

Across the gas-bar at the entrance Macron, Jade, Shirai, Ar’rik, Syntari, and Maelous entered. Things quieted down for a second, but this place had seen many more weirdly dressed patrons and odd aliens. As the bar returned to it’s normal jabber volume, Jade spotted Darupla and nodded. The party made it’s way to the Duros and his Kwi associate.

Undisclosed Location

Syntari drifted to the outskirts of the group purely by instinct, her eyes scanning quickly along every shadowy corner for a possible threat. She had known they were being followed the moment that Macron had first whispered it to them, and now she couldn't stop herself from reaching out with the Force to double-check everything her eyes had seen. A force of habit--she couldn't always trust what was before her eyes, as a lifetime of hallucinations had proved.

At least she wasn't going to scream.

Ar'rik drifted up to her and his hand accidentally brushed hers. She ignored it.
"What are we doing here?" he whispered. She turned to appraise him, studying him quickly with all her senses before speaking. "Investigation takes on many forms," was all she said.

Nar Shadaa
Scummy Quadrant
Gas Bar

The stranger tailing Macron and his posse emerged from the shadows and walked into the gas bar. He was dressed in a very worn black tactical pilot suit, the man also had on shades which hid his eyes and was wearing a worn black backpack, which moved now and then as if something was alive inside. Macron could tell he was Human but the white hair seemed to show something was different about him.

The white haired man walked over to where the consumables were being sold. The Macron, Shirai, Syntari, Maelous, Roxas, Ar'rik, Jade were able to hear him as he spoke to himself.

“I suppose you’re hungry.”

His backpack made a noise in response.

“Typical.”

There was no humor to his voice searched the counters completely ignoring everybody else. The stranger finally picked a protein bar and swiped his credit card at the automatic paying station. He then opened the bar, took a bite and reached over his shoulder as if placing it in his backpack.

“It’s not bad.”

Black furry paws reached out of the top and snatched the bar away.

“But if you’re sick don’t blame me.”

Macron and the others watched him as walked over to where magazines were and started to browse through them. This was definitely who had been following them, Jade glanced at the others and mouthed “what the kark” to them, who the hell was this guy?

Undisclosed Location

Syntari merely raised an eyebrow at Jade, who had turned and mouthed "What the kark?" at the lot of them. The Bpfasshi said nothing, choosing instead to scan the rest of the bar. Her hallucinations were gone now, it seemed, and the never-ending ticking sound had faded to a more bearable tempo in the back of her mind. At least now she could pretend to be a normal, functioning Dark Jedi.

She grinned a little. 'Normal'...what an idea!

Something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention and she drifted closer to Macron, making sure to make the movement as natural as possible. She ignored Ar'rik, who had just asked her something, if only she could remember what...but her focus was diverted as she neared the Mad Alchemist.

"Macron," she murmured softly. He opened his mouth to ask something in his loud, cackling voice but she shook her head ever so slightly to signal silence. "Over there. White hair." With that rather cryptic message she drifted away, hovering near the edge of the group and taking her traditional place as the outsider. She knew the others had seen their follower already, she wasn't stupid; her words to Macron were more of a way to tell him that she would be keeping her eyes on the mysterious stranger. It would free up the other members of their little task force and give her something to do.

Syntari almost laughed out loud at the very memory of what she'd just done. As if her watching out for anything would actually do anyone any good. If anyone was sane they wouldn't trust her, not with the amount of hallucinations she saw and heard on a daily basis. Like now, for instance...the paws reaching out from the mysterious man's pack couldn't possibly be real.

The Force echoed with her teammate's restlessness, none of them able to keep their focus long enough to settle. Their various auras merged together until she couldn't tell Shirai from Roxas, which was probably not a good sign. If only the lot of them would shut up.

Too many voices. Too many people.

She took a deep, steadying breath and mentally closed her eyes, counting to ten, trying to force herself to calm. It was probably her own restlessness that she sensed, magnified a dozen times by her own instability. Fantastic.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Not again. That Force-damned ticking was going to get the best of her.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The Mandalorian looked around the room before splitting from the group and going over to the bar. The Twi'lek bartender set down a glass before inquiring what the Mandalorian wanted. The vo-coder of the T-shaped helmet vibrated a metallic steel voice "Ni copaanir bora." (Mando'a translator activated: I want a job)

The Twi'lek slightly quivered at the sound of mando'a and pointed the direction to the chamber that the Hutt was most likely in. Roxas turned to the rest of his group and motioned for them to follow.

"That easy? What did you say?" Maelous asked when Roxas returned to the group.

"I asked for a job. Generally a Mandalorian on Nar Shadaa would be looking for a Hutt for work."

Macron giggled at how stereotypes can be used to one's advantage. The group entered a small corridor air chamber and the door behind them closed.

"I suggest you put on your masks." Jade quipped calmly.

They did so, and Roxas's helmet whined as the seals shut. The door in front of them opened and they entered a gas filled room. The room had a red hue which meant it was toxic to humans.

"We can't stay here long..." Macron informed "...This gas is toxic to skin if in contact for extended periods of time. Good news is it's flammable, so we can use it to our advantage...if everyone gets out before Roxas."

"Why are we leaving Roxas behind?" Syntari curiously giggled.

"Who else has a flamethrower?" Roxas retorted.

She didn't reply as if being stubborn or just not wanting to further the conversation, but she noticed the jest in the Mandalorian's voice, so they continued into the room. The red gas engulfed them like a thick fog and even through the Mandalorian's visor their field of vision was skewed.

Nar Shadaa
The Vertical City
Reconstruction District

Locke gulped in air and immediately felt revulsion as he surfaced in the garbage hauler's bay, refuse all around him. He had to force himself not to think about what infections his aching back might get from this as he looked around at the dark cityscape. The hauler hardly moved before Locke heard the ear-piercing shriek of tearing metal on a monumental scale. He looked up, back to the burning, fiery superstructure of the building the three men had just left. As a few more explosions rocked it - these dwarfed by the initial one - the whole top of the structure began to lean. The shriek continued as it felll across the space behind the garbage hauler.

As Marc muttered a curse, the hauler began to veer off course. "Pilot must have noticed too, " Marc said. "We have to take control, get to the cockpit!"

"Sure, whatever, " Locke muttered, using his arms to pull himself through the refuse as he climbed behind Marc, slowly advancing toward the front of the hauler as it angled toward a nearby building. When they arrived at the end of the garbage container, the two crawled on top of the low, covered cabin at the front.

At a motion from Marc, Locke clung to one side and dropped down, kicking in the window and landing in the passenger seat with a wince as his back protested. The pilot, a Gran, began grunting at Locke in its own language before Marc appeared behind it and hit it over the head.

Marc took the controls as the unconscious Gran leaned against Locke. There was a thunderous crash and the sound of many more explosions outside as one building smashed into another behind them, lighting the cabin's interior and the city outside in flashes. Marc piloted the craft some distance away and set it down in an alley, sliding out as he gestured for Locke to do the same.

Locke groaned, leaning against the cab door. He could only wonder at what sort of infection his bare back had obtained from the garbage, but that didn't matter right now. Right now, there was still an important security breach to take care of.

"What's your plan?" Locke said, turning to Marc. His eyes widened in surprise at the blaster in the other man's hands.

"I rescued you because, with that other Dark Jedi there, I had no choice, but now we're alone. I should kill you, for all the trouble you've caused the Orian System."

Locke was about to speak, but paused. He knew he had not been the best Consul, but there had been many factors that were outside his control as well. That was not what he said, however. "It's true, but killing me now won't fix that, nor will it silence the mole. Let me continue this mission."

"Continue?" Marc asked. "In your state? You'll be dead in a matter of hours if your wounds are not treated. You surely won't last a day."

"That's true, " Locke agreed, "but if I go home and give up, and the mole gets his information out, it won't matter if I'm injured and alive. The Hutts will find us, possibly even the Republic, and then I would be in far more danger - as would the entire Orian System." In truth, the one thing he cared about most was making sure his sister was safe, but he did not want to tell Marc that. Unless the man knew already. Helping the Clan was secondary.

"What can you do?" Marc asked. A moment later he turned his blaster as two Gran thugs leaped out of the darkness around them. Marc shot one pointblank, but he was in no position to stop the other one from skewering him with the vibroblade it wielded. Before the second Gran could get anywhere, Locke raised his hand, palm outstretched, feeling the Force surge through his body. Locke heard the distinct sound of cracking bones as the blast caught the Gran in the side.. As the alien stumbled sideways, Marc kicked him down and put a blaster bolt through his skull.

"Damn cutpurses, " Marc muttered.

"I'm not so useless, " Locke said.

"I see. Since I had to deal with the risk of you releasing information to those thugs who captured you, the trail has gone cold. How do you even know how to proceed?"

"I'm not alone. May I borrow your comlink?"

"Make it quick, " Marc growled, fishing the communicator out and tossing it to Locke, who barely caught it. His hands had stopped shaking so much, but it was still hard to focus clearly. Wincing, Locke placed a hand over part of his back, groaning as he healed some of the surface wounds with the Force. He would really need medical attention to survive, but the Force would at least help him last longer.

After keying a code he had memorized into the comlink, Locke held it up to his mouth. "Methyas, do you read? This is Locke." He hoped there was no hint of pain in his voice.

A few moments passed before Locke received a reply in a familiar voice. "I'm here, Locke. It's good to hear your voice. Everything alright?"

"Yeah, just had a run-in with the locals, nothing to worry about. I need information. Do you have a location on the mole yet?"

"Not precisely, " Methyas said. "However, there are others here. My agents have spotted your old friend in the red suit, among others. They went to a local bar. It's our best lead."

"Thanks, transmit coordinates, please. I'll check in when I arrive." Locke tossed the comlink back to Marc. "Can you drop me near those coordinates? That's all I ask."

Marc's neutral expression never changed. "Fine, get in the hauler. But just this once. Next time I see you, I'll kill you."

---

A little while later, Locke found himself in front of an entrance surrounded by neon signs in at least half a dozen different languages he did not recognize. As soon as he was out the door, Marc had flown off, leaving the Dark Jedi there alone. Locke had no doubt that Marc would find a good place to watch and make sure Locke carried out the mission.

Before entering the bar, Locke considered his options. He had no blaster. His lightsaber had been either destroyed or grabbed by Mirado. He was significantly injured - to the point where he would be lucky to live another twenty-four hours without a medbay. Finally, he was walking into a bar full of aliens with one of his greatest Dark Jedi enemies inside, as well as the wildcards of whoever was with him.

What choice did he have? If Locke didn't do this, Marc would shoot him. It was better to proceed. There was still some small hope. Perhaps Methyas or Mirado would arrive, but now, without even a comlink, Locke had no way to request their assistance himself.

Before entering the bar, he found a nearby alleyway. It was empty, save for some durasteel crates. Hiding behind them, Locke grit his teeth and seized the Force, feeling fire lance through his back as he healed his wounds as best he could. It took every bit of his strength - both physical and mental - to keep from screaming and focus on the task at hand. When he was done, his back felt somewhat better, but Locke could barely touch the Force. It was like trying to use a muscle weakened by intense exercise. Sighing, he tried to form a plan in his mind.

Nar Shadaa
Scummy Quadrant
Gas Bar

The red fog rose up from the vents that were pumping the lethal fumes into the room, lethal for humans that is not for the aliens who actually liked this stuff, if it wasn’t for the breathers then not of them would last very long. Aliens of different breeds hung onto the stools with there heads hovering over the tables, what could be described as tentacles and antennas were sticking into beakers of foul smelling liquid, absorbing the different coloured drinks.

The group consisting of a mad alchemist and his associates walked deeper into the room. All of them kept their eyes open for the contact they were here to meet. Syntari despite her Force hallucinations noticed the stranger that had been tailing them did not enter into this section of the gas bar, it was curious why he had remained outside, if he was truly tailing them he would have entered as well.

“Where the hell is this contact,” Jade asked through her breather as she tried to locate this source. “Macron. I’m getting this feeling I’m being watched though the Force.”

Macron giggled on near insanity and replied, “I think it’s our friend from outside. This is all very intriguing. For now lets do what we came here to do.” The Dark Side Adept had sensed the stranger keeping tabs on them through the Force. He also sensed connections to his stranger spiraling out into time and places that linked him to the Orion system.

For now, time was of the essence, they all had little time for waiting around. Perhaps it was time to start knocking heads and see what shook loose, that or let Roxas torch the place. Macron giggled with giddy intent as his grin grew wider and wider.

---
OOC: I hope this pushes the plot along a little?

OCC: I though Macrons posted that we saw the contact a while ago, though since others posted that we hadn't since then I'm going to use that and bring the contact in.

Nar Shadaa
Scummy Quadrant
Gas Bar

Something familiar crawled over her skin, a feeling like she knew someone from her past was nearby, but those she had considered friends and family enough to feel that way had pretty much vanished or gone missing , save for Macron and a few scattered others. She shook the feeling off as though someone was just watching her. Jade frowned at the gas pumping in. Though it meant they would have to be a bit quicker, so was good motivation, it was an annoyance. But annoyances didn't play well in the Dark Side...well, other then it was great to feed more anger into attacks, and it was a great way to really add to the fear of the beloved victims. She was definitely enjoying the taste of the dark side in her mouth and veins, it had been far too long since she had taken on assignment, and now was time for the fun.

Duros looked on at the humanoids approaching them. The gas had only temporarily distracted them, not giving him enough time to really get an advantage, but his skin was crawling. His enforcer would poke at him now, but he knew the truth. The Dark Side hid well, and it was truly one of their greatest deceptions, fooling everyone that they didn't exist. This was a meeting he wanted to get through as quickly and easily as possible, and if he managed to somehow help himself while keeping all his appendages...then all the more power to him.

Jade nodded at Maelous, she really must get to know him better. She looked back at Macron. "Though relatively harmless, Duros can be kind of jumpy...try to play nice and not rip too many parts off if he tries something?"

Macron laughed envisioning all kinds of devious experiments and tricks he would like to perform if not just ripping pieces off for information the contact would likely hold out on to get the best price. "I'll make no promises."

Jade just shook her head, laughing to herself.

Duros held his breath as the group got closer. It was her alright. instinctively his hand went to his weapon under the table, though he knew it would do him little good, it somehow comforted a small part of him. If his enforcer only knew the boogyman was really real.

Jade walked up and flashed a pointed smile beneath her mask. "Greeting Duros."

Duros nodded, taking a look at his enforcer before looking back at the Dark Jedi. "I didn't expect you to bring company."

Jade nodded towards the Kwi. "I'd say the same for you, but then again you always have been a little...jumpy."

"Hey now, that..."He looked at Macron, Maelous, Shirai, Ar’rik, and Syntari, then spoke a little quieter. "incident was not my fault."

Jade laughed at him, his tension was so strong she practically fed off his fear...he was definitely uncomfortable with having more company to deal with, as he should be. She waved a hand. "that doesn't matter now, however, "she looked at Macron, who moved into a position better suited to ripping the guy in two if he needed to. "We have some business to discuss." A few patrons looked their way, the unusual visitors drawing attention, but only for a moment.

Nar Shadaa
Shady Bar
Undisclosed Location

Question: if fear motivates all beings, what happens when that fear is centralized and focused onto one main phobia?
Theory: a breakdown in the subject's mind.

Syntari drifted closer to Macron's contact, barely recognizing her own movements as being triggered by her body. She saw too many things and ignored most of them, forcing herself to focus on only the question she had formed and the theory that followed. If she could manage that, she could remain locked rather firmly in this so-called reality. The Kwi was babbling, insisting that the gas wasn't his fault, but most of what he was actually saying was more made up of echolalic sounds more than actual words.

"You're lying," Syntari said softly, her attention riveted on him. He damn near jumped out of his skin, obviously not expecting her to speak. Jade and Macron glanced her way but did nothing to stop her. Her insanity was well known by now, and if she presented any real threat they could kill her and easily wave it away as fault of her hallucinations.

"Whatever do you--" Duros began.
"Obviously it was a test," she responded. "A way to see if we are who we say we are. You knew Macron wouldn't come alone, so you wanted to see what you were up against..." She smiled and her fangs glinted in the dim lighting. "Nicely done."

Syntari ghosted away as quietly as she had appeared, leaving several confused Dark Jedi in her wake. Her hallucinations came back full force, the brightly coloured and annoying little Krayt dragons beginning to buzz about her head once more only to vanish in puffs of smoke as Ar'rik grabbed her arm.

"Syn, come back to earth," he whispered to her. "What's going on? You went up there and stared at him, and then wandered off. Settle, will you?"

She blinked. "I did what?" she asked, dazed. She'd never done that before--normally, when she spoke it was always aloud and events like the one just now had never happened...she shook her head and refocused, using Ar'rik's hand on her arm to ground her. Perhaps she was as insane as they said.

"You just--it doesn't matter," he hissed. "Just keep your head in the game, you're going to get us all killed." Syntari nodded, pretending not to notice that he left his hand lightly where it was.

Macron continued to speak softly to the Kwi, his attention on the task at hand, though what he actually said Syntari didn't know; not only was the Mad Alchemist too far away, she kept hearing things that were not being said. Her grasp on reality was slipping, and badly. Jade joined in the discussion with their contact and for a while no one else moved or said a word.

Syntari closed her eyes and struggled to remain grounded, though it was more of a battle than it should have been.

Conclusion: I am my own worst fear, and I am having a breakdown.

Scum Quarter
The Vertical City
Nar Shadaa

While he was still pondering what to do next, a shadowy shape appeared at the entrance to the alleyway. Locke tensed up as the figure moved closer, taking odd, deliberate steps, as if inebriated and trying to keep it's balance. As it came closer, the dim lights showed the face of a man, a breath mask covering his face. If this was the kind of place with a gas atmosphere designed to satisfy aliens, Locke might need one of those. He was willing to bet they weren't just for sale at the door. Besides that, he had no money.

Pushing back against the bar's exterior wall, Locke hid in the shadows as best he could. When the man stumbled by him, Locke kicked out one leg. An instant after the man tripped and fell on his stomach, Locke straddled his back and ripped off the breath mask.

"Thanks, " he said, before knocking the other man out with a swift punch. "I needed that." He quickly donned the mask, ripping the man's overshirt off with some difficulty. It was a bulky thing, complete with a hood, which Locke pulled over his head. It couldn't have hurt to be a little discreet.

Locke still didn't have a plan, but he wasn't going to be of use out here. Doing his best to walk casually, the Krath left the alleyway, mixed with the throng of beings walking by for a moment, and then ducked into the bar. He hoped no one noticed how stiffly he was walking.

Inside, he saw a dozen alien races he recognized - and many more he did not. Everything from dark-skinned Duros to furred Bothans were represented inside. He even saw an Ithorian in one corner, with a large blaster rifle propped against the wall next to him. That must have been a rogue; the peace-loving Ithorians usually avoided weapons.

The haze of some kind of blue-green gas filled the air as well. It soothed Locke's eyes, though he knew it would kill him without the mask he wore over his nose and mouth. Different beings wore their own masks where necessary, making some of them appear terrifying.

Hunching forward, Locke took on the appearance of a destitute spacer who had just arrived after a long voyage. He gazed around as subtly as he could, noting the absence of any other Dark Jedi. They must have been further inside.

Locke took a seat at the end of the bar, ordering some sort of whiskey the Twi'lek bartender assured him was safe for humans to consume. He let the glass mug sit untouched. It would be difficult to drink with the mask on, even with the provided straw. Instead, Locke listened to the chitter and hum of alien voices. He watched from the corner of his eyes. He wasn't about to stumble forward blindly. If he did, he could endanger the others in some way.

Just then a new group entered the bar. Even out of the corner of his eye, Locke could tell they were together. A few Duros, Weequay, even a couple of Twi'leks entered, all armed to the teeth, all wearing something over their eyes. Were those night vision goggles? And how many blades did one need to carry in addition to their blaster? Or were those slugthrowers? The latter would probably be better in gas-filled chambers such as these. Distantly, Locke hoped the Ithorian had the safety activated on his rifle.

Generally, aliens armed like this in a group meant one thing: bounty hunters. Locke had seen such in the Vong war: armed groups of Peace Brigaders and their hired help carrying heavy weapons, hunting for Jedi to turn over to their 'allies'. His squad had run into one such group during the 'War - and had been nearly wiped out. To this day, Locke wasn't sure if the bounty hunters had actually been routed, or had left when they realized Locke's group had not held any Jedi.

The bar's other patrons looked up briefly, then all went back to what they were doing. Either they were used to this sort of thing, did not want to be involved, or both.

As the group passed behind Locke on their way deeper inside, he noticed the bartender looking at them and nodding his head slightly. That was definitely not a good sign. Locke's chest went cold when the lights at the front of the bar blinked out a moment later. Then, in rapid succession, the other lightbanks shut off, leaving the bar in total darkness save for the occasional dim glow of an alien's eyes or someone's chrono or datapad.

Then the distant glow of the entryway disappeared, as if cut off, and Locke knew the entrance had been sealed. There was silence for a few heartbeats, then one of the aliens let out a long, guttural growl.

Nar Shadaa
Scummy Quadrant
Gas Bar

Maelous leaned against a table near the entrance of the room, his arms folded across his chest. His eyes scanning the assorted beings of the room from behind the dark lenses of his helmet. The aliens scattered around the room, the muscle standing near Jade’s contact, the members of the madman's troop, he watched them all. He could feel the Force talking to him, it made him uneasy. He hung back away from the group as if to stand guard, But against what, he thought, just a handful of aliens. Jade looked towards him and nodded before moving in on the contact.

The gas left an eerie haze in the air as Jade spoke to the seated being. He seemed uneasy, nervous even, something was not right. The haze of deadly gas swirled around Syntari as she moved forward, spoke then back to Ar’rik side. The journeyman grabbed her arm, the Knight noted, and she did not draw away, there was more there than he knew or trusted. Could that be the cause of his own unease?

Maelous moved around the table and took a seat with his back against the wall and pulled up his hood. It made him feel more comfortable to not have his back exposed and quieted his mind, though alarms still went off in the Sith’s mind. He eyed the contact, and split second before it happened the Force showed him what was coming.

Before any of the Dark Jedi could react the aliens scattered around the bar stood some held blasters, others vibro blades, all looked at the him and his clan mates with disdain. Good, he thought, let them hate. As he stood the door slid open and a dozen or so heavy armed bounty hunters moved in. The door closed behind them with a hiss.

He heard the alchemist laughing, Roxas curse, and watched Shirai shake his head. Jade’s eyes darkened as she stared at the contact, “You’ll die for this,” she growled.

“I doubt it,” Duros sneered, “or did you not notice you are out numbered?”

Time slowed as everyone prepared for the storm that was building in the back room of the scum sector bar. The Sith Commander took a deep breath his eyes shifting to a Twi’lek with a blaster aimed at his head. Maelous pushed his cloak aside and and drew his saber. The blue skinned Twi’lek's lekku twitched as he said something in Huttese. The Sith assumed it was a command to drop the weapon.

He ignited his saber and swung without a word, and then the room went black.

Nar Shadaa
Scummy Quadrant
Gas Bar
Back Room


As the room went black, what was happening was obvious to the Dark Jedi. Every last one of them had been through the Shadow Academy and knew that at all times someone was waiting to kill them. They had all had darkness and blind-sight training. The hard and painful lessons of the Academy were not wasted on them- they had survived to become members of the Brotherhood and had not died in agony like the failures. The bounty hunters had sorely underestimated their prey.

“Ambush!” shouted Shirai mentally as a slew of multicolored lightsabers ignited within the room. The gas was indeed flammable and burned around the blades with an eerie fire, but at the concentration in the room it did not explode. If it found normal oxygen and mixed it surely would. Shirai howled a Sith warcry and charged two of the alien foes. if they had thought their prey blind in the darkness, they were sadly mistaken. The Warrior deflected their shots handily into the knees of the corresponding bounty hunter and then cut their crippled bodies in half.

Maelous ignited his crimson blade and flung the table he had been sitting at with the Force towards the green Twilek who had spoken first. Blaster shots that glowed with a neon green halo around them from the gas hurtled towards him. The table’s impact made them spin wild, peppering the ceiling as Maelous leaped. His armored elbow caught the Twilek in the face hard and smashed in the alien’s nasty teeth as the Sith’s red plasma sword severed grasping hands from the attacking blaster rifle. The hands twitched where they fell and the rifle hit the floor.

Jade clenched her fist in front of the arrogant Duros. He screamed in pain as his hearts were crushed within his chest by the power of the Dark Side. As the corpse flopped sideways, Jade spoke. “Too bad it was so quick.” She rapidly ignited her own argent-colored weapon and faced off the Kwi who was backpedaling and drawing his blasters. “It won’t be with you,” hissed the Krath. She groaned as a slug blew through her right leg.

Behind this melee Roxas peppered a Gank killer with flechettes from his Verpine shatter-gun. The Gank slammed him with a vibro-staff as he fell, shooting sparks from Roxas’ armor as it cut into it. The Gank’s belly seemed to melt away under the shot from the shatter-gun, exposing strange green guts and nauseating yellow tissue. Roxas was shot twice with slugs and one breached his armor in his left shoulder.

In the rear of the chamber Syntari wove her own particular brand of evil magic. The Force cloaked her somewhat from the glasses of the attackers as she wrapped herself within it. She took cover behind an overturned table and turned her senses towards the attackers. Their minds felt waves of fear, uncertainty, and distrust. Although she did not cut them down with her blade the effect of her mind tricks and illusion was noticeable and served the group very well. The Dark Side undermined the morale of the foes and instilled a modicum of fear within the aliens. They hesitated, questioned their motives…. and to hesitate was Death against Dark Jedi. Her demoralization tactics lent the upper hand to the Brotherhood fighters.

Ar’rik found himself shoulder to shoulder with Macron in the thick of the battle. His blue armory saber rose and fell as he amplified his body with the Force. Precognition showed him the slugs coming his way just in time- all except for one. One of the slugs tore into his left arm just as he smote the top of a Gank’s cranium from it’s skull. He immediately calculated the position of the next and smote him down too as the pain hit. The Jedi Hunter grimaced and ground his teeth together as he attempted to control the pain.

Most of the bounty hunters had targeted Macron directly. Their intelligence was good, and they had been told the red-armored man was probably the worst of the lot. Slugs peppered the Elder as his tangerine colored blade and Force barriers came and went around him. His Mandalorian Steel-clad offhand gauntlet literally smote the slugs and blaster bolts from the air like swatting flies. It occasionally dipped into a face or torso to smash and pulp the viscera and brains within. The alchemist’s lightsaber removed heads, arms, legs, clove torsos, split hips in twain. His insane laughter served as a brutal soundtrack.

Even so there was only so much one Elder could take at a time. The Adept was shot twice in the right side, and one of the hot duranium slugs actually penetrated his Sith battle-armor to puncture a lung. Another Gank hit him hard in the head with a pole-staff and smashed his faceplate open. The Gank and another Twilek closed, gloating even though their feet skittered on the entrails and blood of their comrades. Their minds were stronger than the rest and they had been promised a huge sum by the Hutt.

They were met with the power of the Dark Side. Macron screamed in pure rage as his helm hung half-off of his twisted face. Blue arcs of galvanic lightning that strobed from the madman’s hands burned the Twilek down where he stood, illuminating his bones as he fell like a twitching rat on the science table. The other was literally liquified by a potent wave of telekinesis that also blew open the door behind the splattered pile of gore to the outer bar.

“I’m hurt,” gagged Macron as he held his breath and tried to concentrate on the healing modalities he had been taught. “Get the Duros’ head. That’s all I need… we can get the info from his head. It’s not dead yet. I have the right drugs.”

Nar Shadaa
Undisclosed Location
Questionable Bar

Syntari held her lightsabre tightly in one hand as she worked her magic, the Force simmering with the fear and desperation of her foes. Anyone who dare threaten her Clan-mates and ambush Naga Sadow's finest chose to dance with death, and one trip could spell out death. She provided that fatal misstep, and soon the blood of her enemies stained the dance floor.

She came back to earth at the sound of Macron's familiar rasping voice. It grounded her, helped her focus on the here and now before her mind could drift away. "...I have the right drugs," she heard. The Knight blinked, trying for a moment to decide if any of this was real or another hallucination. Had she really frightened her enemies to death? Had the Mad Alchemist really just announce that he could extract information from a severed head?

Rising from behind her improvised cover, she glimpsed the face of a fallen foe and stared down at it, slightly dazed, as the proof of her actions stared up at her. It was an expression of total terror and it would haunt her for weeks to come. Turning from the corpse, she forced one foot in front of the other until she came upon the group. Ar'rik, much to her relief, stood unhurt, his lightsabre still glowing a very distracting blue in the dim room. In the other hand he held what looked to be a head, which he brandished towards Macron.

Syntari eyed the thing with a look of disgust etched onto her features, her natural revulsion for dead things showing itself for a brief second before she regained control of herself. Macron began to dictate instructions to the rest of the group but the Bpfasshi's attention, for whatever reason, remained fixated on the head.

It began to glow and pulsate multiple colors as little krayt dragons fluttered around it.
She closed her eyes.

Not again.

Nar Shadaa
Scummy Quadrant
Gas Bar
Reception

It seemed as if the scum of Nar Shadaa had flooded into the room, receiving word that the ambush had begun, they hoped to box their targets in and finish them off. What they did not count on was the unexpected ally of the dark siders.

The white haired man dressed in the pilot’s uniform reached over his shoulders as if to reach inside his backpack.

“ZOSIA! LIGHTSABERS!”

He pulled out two lightsabers and ignited the blue blades and jumped into the hordes of petty thugs and mercenaries, severing limbs and decapitating heads. The Force-user released a powerful wave of telekinetic energy, propelling the would-be assassins through the glass window and out into the street.

The Dark Side of the Force was with him as he brutally and crudely ended the bottom feeding scum, as if he fed on the darkness like a drug, getting his daily fix by slaughtering the kriffing hordes of thugs. The strangers blood red eyes peeked through his sunglasses as he enjoyed the carnage around him.

The air lock doors open up and the others come through. Jade and Locke were had Marcon’s arms around their necks as they arrived to witness the last of the would be killers slain by the mysterious darksider, behind them Syntari was holding the Duro’s decapitated head, while Maelous, Shirai and Ar’rik covered the rear.

“You’re getting soft old man,” quipped the stranger as he deactivated the two lightsabers, where was something so familiar about them despite the obvious modifications. “So I took care of the stranglers. You can thank me later.”

“Who the hell are you!” Maelous asked as the strangers arrogance ticked him off.

“I’m the cavalry,” the stranger replied as he took off his sunglasses to show them to show them his eyes, solid blood red, an obvious genetic quirk from drawing on the Dark Side of the Force. “You can call me, Ashura.”

It was a name which resonated among some of the group, a name from clan’s past which didn’t match the face nor Force presence of the person standing before them. It then dawned on them that the lightsabers Ashura was holding in fact belonged to former clan member, Ashura Isradia, who had left under unknown circumstances.

“No karking way are you him.” Jade spat, despite the old feeling of remembrance that his stranger had to the Ashura she had known, she could identify similar characteristics despite the difference of person.

“A mystery for later perhaps, your friend needs some medical attention and I’m sure you’ll need to put that head on freeze to remain the neural pathways, if that is what I’m assuming your keeping it for.” This new Ashura replied.

“He’s right,” chuckled the Adept, “we need to move.”

The slug that entered the Mandaorian's shoulder did it's damage, but luckily it was only a flesh wound and he could continue on. As for his armor; he was pissed. He put alot of time in developing his "Strike Armor" and even went through the trouble to use an alloy metal to reduce the weight. He really should have expected it with a Mark I model of a new type of armor.

Blood streamed down his chest from the wound as he approached his allies after the battle had sieced and Macron's injuries caught his eye.

"We should at least attempt to hide our presence here." Ashura said almost scoldingly to no one in particular.

"I'll handle it." Roxas replied quickly, the iron in his voice showed his frustration.

The others picked up on it and knew what the Sithspawn had in mind.

Macron chuckled "Have fun playing with your toys, we are going on ahead. The adults have business."

He didn't reply, just turned around and raised his left arm as if saying "Go already."

Macron, Ashura, Syntari, and the rest went through the door and as it shut the gauntlets on the Mandalorian's arms cycled to bring his flamethrowers out. The weapons ignited with a crackling roar as oxygen entered through the newly broken windows and mixed with the poisonous gas. The flames aspread quickly before a backdraft caused the entire room to go. Aliens walking outside herad a pop and then flames escaped through the windows and lit up the alley. The entire room turned into a bomb and exploded, the expanding forces would have slammed the Mandalorian into the wall behind him, but he used the Force to form a telekinetic shield infront of him; although, it didn't protect him from the heat which caterized the wound on his shoulder. He winced with the pain, but took it in stride to teach him not to cut corners with his gear anymore. In the other room a Hutt mumbled it's annoying language while Macron and the others attempted to coax what they wanted out of the slug.

Roxas pulled out his datapad and spoke "Mark I is a failure, increase strenght of alloy for Mark II."

Nar Shadaa
Shady Bar

Syntari watched the flames die with an expressionless look on her face, barely blinking as she lost herself in the flickering shadows. For now the hallucinations had faded--it seemed that they disappeared with combat, and so long as the left over adrenalin pumped through her system she could assess the situation with a clear head. She turned from the fire and refocused her attention on the group.

"We need to get somewhere safe," she said to the others. They all glanced her way and each of them had the same look on their face, one that said they hated to hear her voice. The Bpfasshi ignored the instinct to be ashamed; she had as every right to speak as they did, and though she doubted the others truly felt that way, the prickling of anxiety in her stomach told her how much sway their opinions could actually hold over her. She merely stared into the center of the group, refusing to acknowledge the possible mistake of her words.

Finally Macron spoke, breaking the rather awkward silence that had fallen. "There should be one," he wheezed, "Not far from..." Jade glared at him until he stopped speaking, her sightless eyes piercing right through him.

"Hush," she snapped. "Now's not the time."

She rose to her feet, ignoring the carnage wreaked by Roxas's flamethrower. "We should start moving towards the safe house," she announced. Her words affected the rest of the team like Syntari's did not, prompting them into action. Ar'rik and Shirai grabbed Macron, supporting the wounded Mad Alchemist as Jade took point.

Syntari stood, watching them all begin to file out of the room. Now she wished she hadn't spoken.

Streets
Scum Quadrant
Nar Shadaa

Locke followed the others out, trying to keep his mind off the pain. Ok Locke, let's play name all the Dark Jedi.

Hood thrown back, he studied the others. Most he recognized, but at least a couple he did not. He could pick up on names though. Roxas is obvious, Maelous you remember, Jade too, Syntari from the holo-records of the Battle for Kel Rasha, Shirai was an ally...who is that other one? Erik, or Arrek, or something? And of course, Macron. What about that white-haired guy?

When the Elder noticed Locke, Macron stopped and shook Ar'rik and Shirai off his arms. "Usurper, " he growled, followed by a much louder wheezing laugh. He almost seemed happy to see Locke, but it was always hard to tell with Macron.

The Krath's blood ran cold. If he decided to settle their differences here… "let's kill the mole, " Locke said.

"And then have fun with the traitor!" Macron said, before turning and slowly catching up to Jade, despite his injuries. The white-haired man Locke did not recognize gave the Krath a cold look before catching up to Macron. The Krath left it at that. He never intended to let Macron have his 'fun'.

Locke breathed in relief. The soldier part of his mind noted that Jade and Macron had not specified any sort of formation. Before he realised what he was doing, Locke spoke to the others. "Ar'rik is it? Shirai, why don't you guys hang back a bit with Syntari and watch our rear? Roxas, nice blackened armor. Keep an eye out; that explosion might have drawn attention. Maelous, you too."

After a few moments, the group actually began doing as he had said. Perhaps it was his tone, or maybe they just thought it was better than simply following the others, or they would have done it anyway. Locke silently chided himself. You are not Consul any longer. You're supposed to take orders, not give them.

They continued walking for another few minutes, all in silence. Locke watched Macron's back, thumbing his comlink to Methyas' frequency. "I've linked up with the others, " he whispered, "Macron hasn't tried to kill me yet. He's going to try extracting information from a disembodied head, it seems."

Methyas merely clicked his comlink in acknowledgement and Locke left it at that. Let Methyas worry about what to do, for now Locke would just have to focus on living long enough to finish the mission and get to a medbay. He had to stay with the group. Was Marc still out there somewhere, watching his every move?

Bloody ex-Shadow, or whatever you are. He hoped Methyas and whoever else he had with him were nearby, especially if things got ugly.

They soon came to a patched wall panel, where Jade stopped. At a gesture from Macron, the white-haired man pulled the panel free and the trio ducked inside. Locke looked around outside. When Roxas approached, Locke gestured to him. "Would you watch the entrance? Don't want to be caught by surprise." At an answering nod, Locke ducked inside.

It was a small chamber. A short hall led to a dimly-lit room with a long table. Macron already had a small set of vials out, along with a few syringes. Locke could have sworn the Madman flashed him a brief grin when he noticed the Krath looking at them.

The Bakuran tried not to watch as Macron began his work, choosing instead to focus on controlling his own pain.

Let us be done with this soon, he hoped silently.

The Chamber
Scum Quadrant
Nar Shadaa

Shirai and company had made the proper arrangements for the Mad Alchemist to do his dark alchemy. Locke and Ashura had joined the fray so their bolstered forces would quicken their success. The chamber they were in gave off an ominous feeling, like there could never be hope again. He looked towards Macron who was already going to work giggling madly under his breath. The Sith Warrior didn't need to see how he got the information, as long as they got it. They were dealing with injuries, but it seemed Roxas was more concerned with his armor, making notes every now and then. Locke walked beside him and he said, "On the battlefield again."

"I never turn down the hunt," Shirai replied. Locke nodded in his head in approval, and was about to say something when Ashura's head popped up. His attention was focused on something unseen by them, the Force was wrapped around him. Possibly guiding him through his thoughts.

"We may have been followed." Eyes whipped towards him. "Be wary. I sense that all may not be well. We should be quick when Macron extracts the information."

"It would be annoying to be caught unawares yet again. I tire of being ambushed." Jades said as the Dark Side pulsated from her. Her annoyance was felt through bond they shared. Shirai had shared the battle-meld, with Locke and Ashura. If Ashura was right then they would need to act with haste, they needed to be prepared if it were so.

The Aedile picked a spot on the floor, folding his legs together he sat in a meditation pose. Syntari looked at him, curious as to his strange timing for meditation. Though it was a strange time to be meditating, he was actually building concentration to employ some battle-meditation towards his comrades. If anything were to be on its way, the amplified Force power would catch the danger before it chanced its way on to them.

The Chamber
Scum Quadrant
Nar Shadaa


Jade and Macron focused in on the head. Jade’s Black Sun contacts has supplied them with a pre-paid safe house, 1110 stories up in a crappy old ‘partament spire. Awful large-gauge needles stuck into the severed stump to pump in their unholy contents. The blind eyes rolled and gaped as the head tried to speak. Several data pads connected to the nest of wires.

“Will it…. talk?” asked Syntari as she looked on in fascination. She was fond of mental agility and sematics, and this head had none of either. “Or just burble?”

“No,” replied Macron as he stuck several wires into the gaping head. “No, my skill is not of that caliber. However, these synaptic taps will give us some basic information. Obviously, we will not get to obtain his opinion on the Coruscant Statute or hear him sing Corellian opera, hehe.” The madman giggled more as he tied in the wires to a strange hand-held device that resembled the technology of old. He slapped the head a few times and it groaned. The Sith licked his lips with pleasure.

Around them the Dark Jedi protected the space. Shirai, Locke and Ashura’s new form seemed to be engaged in camaraderie. Ar’rik stood with Syntari as the Knight’s open eyes opened wide to observe the multi colored miniature Krayt dragons that only she saw. Roxas muttered to himself and measured the scarring on his armor with a micrometer gauge to observe the depth of penetration. Maelous simply regarded the scene with disinterest as he checked his own gear.

Macron injected himself with orbalisk venom and a stew of nutrients as his datapad caught the synaptic gasps from the head. The madman grunted and did his best to hide the pain from those around him as the proteins and Sith agents went to work on his synthetic body.

“I have the location,” Macron chuckled as fried brain fat oozed from the skull of the horrified gaping head of the former foe.

Chamber
Scum Quadrant
Nar Shadaa

Locke tried not to look at the head's remains as Macron motioned the group to head out. The Elder had not decided to tell them where the location was, so the group was forced to follow him out into the streets. Locke noted with a small bit of satisfaction that the group was more wary now; they watched the streets carefully and each individual seemed dedicate themselves to watching one direction. Locke looked up, scanning the towers. Marc was probably up there somewhere, watching.

I'll stick through to the end, don't worry, he thought. Each step sent a new tremor of pain through his body. He could almost feel the clock ticking away on his life. Without the Force, he would surely be dead, or at the very least unable to walk.

Macron took them down half a dozen causeways and up and down different ramps. He would stop at an intersection occasionally, mutter, raise a finger halfway in one direction, and then walk another direction. This was usually accompanied by a giggle. Ashura and Jade stayed near him, impassively studying the streets. Anyone who met eyes with them shied away. Even here, no one wanted to find out what was behind those cold stares.

Finally, they stopped near a structure section that was different than the others. It had large, stylized red columns in front of it that went several stories up before stopping. Against his better judgement, Locke stepped up beside Macron.

"What's this?" he asked.

Macron let out a low growl, but it disappeared suddenly. "Hutt stronghold, mole is inside." He laughed and turned to the group. "It's time to finish this, be ready."

"Yes, " Locke agreed, "but perhaps we could sneak in, kill the mole, and leave quietly? A Hutt's stronghold is likely to be filled with guards, traps, and bounty hunters."

Macron's mouth twitched in the moment of silence that followed. Ar'rik stepped into it. "Maybe we could get them to hand over the mole? We have seen plenty of fighting."

"Hah, " Roxas answered, "let's wipe them all out! Who knows who that mole might have spoken to?"

Locke looked to the others. Maelous was quietly standing guard; Syntari's eyes seemed glazed over, as if she was looking at something that was not really there.

"Anyone else?" Locke asked.

Only Shirai spoke. "One way or another, I want to see that mole dead." He closed one hand in a fist for emphasis.

Deciding he had said enough, Locke simply stood silently, waiting for someone to fill the void. They would have to act quickly. He hoped none of the group noticed that in one hand he held his comlink, channel open, allowing Methyas and whoever else he had brought to hear their planning.

Nar Shadaa
Residential District
Hutt Stronghold

The exile let his eyes scan the outside of the Hutt’s stronghold. They’re talking again, he thought, pushing their words out of his mind. He made note of the armed sentries walking the grounds armed with various rifles. He counted three, four member teams in view, along with the two men standing on either side of the main entryway.

Maelous turned as the madman laughed at something Roxas said. The guards would notice them soon if they didn’t make some sort of a move soon. He looked over the assembled dark Jedi as a plan formed in his head. “We do all of that,” he interrupted, “a group of us can cause some noise out here and draw out as many of the guards as we can. The rest of you can slip in and extract or take care of the mole.”

Shirai half smiled and nodded, “Sounds good to me.”

Maelous nodded and pointed to one of the four man teams, “Roxas, on my signal hit that team,” he turned to the alchemist without waiting for a reply, “Macron, if you could strike them,” he said through the speakers of his helmet, as he pointed to a group on the opposite side.

The Adept’s faced shifted to a foreboding smile, “With pleasure, exile.”

The Sith Knight pulled the hood up on his cloak, and nodded as he walked toward the main gate. Syntari’s head bobbed as she watched him and her visions walk away. The team moved into their positions readying themselves for their roles. Maelous reached the gate when Locke appeared next to him. The Archpriest nodded “Can’t let you have all the fun,” he said as they moved through the gate and climbed the steps toward the two guards. The two stopped a few steps from the top as the guards stepped toward them.

Maelous dropped his hood hoping they took the signal, he wasn’t disappointed. The crack of lightning ripped through the air behind them, at the same time as the slugthrower rounds were loosed. The war cries of his clanmates, as they rushed, in made him grin under his helmet as he drew his saber and igniting it.

Screams filled the air as Syntari used her mind tricks. The air hissed as Jade and Ashura made their way into the grounds. Maelous raised his saber to strike one of the two guards in front of him. The Force rippled around him as Locke’s hand shot forward, throwing the guards back against the door, opening it slightly.

Before the Sith could respond the former Consul raced forward slamming himself into the door. It gave way as he slipped inside, followed by flashes of blaster fire. The Knight closed the distance to the door yelling for everyone to move inside as he crossed the threshold.

In a moment he had assessed the scene before and let the blade of his saber cut through the torso of one guard with his back to him. He stepped up next to Locke as the sound of boots filled the room.

“Trying to steal all the fun?”

Macron and Roxas went about their work getting the attention of the guards, but with two armored Sadowans assigned to the same task then things get loud fast. Rockets and Force attacks slammed guards and random areas of the building, which sent bodies and debris flying. Over his own giggling Macron noticed that it sounded as if Roxas was mumbling.

"What's the matter my experiment?" Macron called out with a chuckle.

"Collecting bounties. I've been doing it since we got here. I'm up to twenty three now." The Mandalorian replied.

The Mad Alchemst laughed loudly before continuing the conversation in the midst of their debotary.
"Bounties! HA!" After a few moments he spoke again "I heard you've been training with Methyas, but I see you have no problem holding back. Did you refuse his light side take to things?"

"No actually, I'm trying to be more grey. I find it hard to go easy on murderers and rapists though." The Sith Spawn said as he held a man under his armpit in a head lock. "Take this frakker here. He's mollested over ten children and raped fifteen women only to slaughter them in a bloddy mess. Usually I would make an example of him and get gorey, but we have no time so.." The muscles of the Mandalorian's arm tensed and the man's neck snapped loudly.

"I prefer the gore..." Macron said with a frown "I think I'll make some" He instantly returned to a smile with the words and quickly returned to slaughtering people and giggling endlessly.

Roxas turned and continued his own brand of justice on the unsuspecting criminals as the rest of the group went on their marry way into the Hutt compound. The battle outside was getting big, but hopefully wouldn't get too wild or other groups struggling for power might try to join in the festivities.

Hutt Stronghold
Residential District
Nar Shadaa

Locke found himself flanked by Maelous as they entered the grand entry way of the Hutt's stronghold. He quickly looked around, taking in the carnage. It was a large chamber, columns lining the center walk deeper into the facility. The shadows to the sides of those columns were filled with tables and chairs, where a motley group of smugglers, bounty hunters, and hired thugs were in the process of jumping to their feet. Clearly, the mole had warmed them ahead of time of the reprisal that was to follow him.

But they had not prepared enough.

To the right, Macron laughed gleefully as he speared a Rodian on his lightsaber, twisting the weapon as he raised the alien up with it. The Alchemist's face contorted in a snarl, and then he smiled again, the crushgaunt on his other hand smashing a human's face flat against one of the columns. Even in battle, with his adrenaline pumping, Locke tried not to look too closely at that.

As Macron enjoyed his kill, Jade's lightsaber flashed behind him. She wore her own smile, terrifying in it's own way. Her expression reminded Locke of a predator relishing it's kill. Where her blade spun, the enemy died. Roxas was a short distance apart from the other two. A thundercrack filled the hall each time he fired his slugthrower, each time answered by a grunt or shriek of death.

Those three were doing their jobs well. As a double-door beyond them flung open, revealing another group of armed thugs, the trio immediately moved between them and the rest of the group as if it were a natural movement of the battle. That was good, they would certainly not have to worry of anything getting through that way.

"The Hutt isn't here, " Locke said aloud as his eyes scanned the room. To their left, Locke noticed, Ar'rik was deflecting stray blaster bolts with his palm. He seemed a resourceful Journeyman, one Locke made a mental note to follow up on in the future. Next to him, Syntari kept her blade close to her body, her other hand flung out occasionally. Each time, a mug or plate would slide across the floor, tripping up a thug and giving her an opportunity to strike. Resourceful Journeymen, indeed, Locke thought.

In front of them, Ashura danced in a circle alone. That was the only way to describe it. With a pale blade in each hand, he spun through the enemy in a blur.

"Perhaps in the throne room at the end of the hall?" Shirai said, stepping up next to Locke and Maelous. He had his ignited lightsaber in hand and seemed eager to continue. Locke did not want to stand between him and their goal.

"Let's go, " he said. The three moved forward at once, with Locke lagging behind. His injuries made it difficult to keep up, but he winced and pressed on. The Krath flipped on his comlink as he followed the others.

"What does he look like?" He asked Methyas.

"Chiss, blue skin, " the Miraluka replied. "We're pulling out, but we'll stay close to make sure everything goes smoothly."

"We, " Locke muttered. Who else had come? He hoped Mirado was in that group.

"It's the Chiss!" the Krath shouted ahead.

When he entered the throne room, it was relatively peaceful compared to the chaos outside. As Shirai entered, a Trandoshan threw all his weight into the Sith, but he didn't even seem to move. Shirai grunted, then decapitated the alien. Ahead of them, Maelous was dispatching the last few of the Hutt's guards.

A lone bounty hunter aimed a flamethrower at his back, but Locke opened himself to the Force, growling as pain washed over him. Holding his head, the Krath focused on that bounty hunter, forming the same mind link he had when he had been freed. He put every last scrap of energy into that attack. This time, he poured all of his pain into the liink, mixing it with the worst thoughts he could think of what Macron might have wanted to do to him. It sickened Locke, but this had to work.

The bounty hunter stopped dead. His human face went pale, and then he shrieked in terror. That was all Maelous needed. The other man spun and sliced the bounty hunter in half. Locke blinked, stumbled, and leaned against the wall by the door. He had never done something like that before. His mind simply could not process it, not with the searing aches and throbbing pain he could no longer control.

That left the Hutt, his Majordomo, a couple of attendants, and of course the Chiss informant. The Majordomo suddenly began shouting at the Chiss. "No deal! No deal!" He turned to the Dark Jedi then, voice slowing, teeth showing. "We can bargain, yes?"

"No, " Maelous said coldly.

Then the Chiss threw up his hands. There was a small object in one. "If this is the true power of the Dlarit Corporation, then I do not want to live in this galaxy any longer!" It was a bold move, but Locke guessed the Chiss had chosen it as his only option, rather than to be tortured at the hands of the Dark Jedi.

Shirai saw the issue and surged forward, telekinetically ripping the detonator out of the Chiss' hand. It exploded harmlessly against the side wall of the chamber. By the time the smoke cleared, the Chiss was dead with a burning hole in his chest, Shirai standing over him. The deed was done, vengeance had been met, but it was not over yet. How much did the Hutt know?

Macron appeared in the doorway, someone's blood splattered across his face. Locke groaned, forcing himself to stand. It was all he could do. "I trust you will...take care of the Hutt?" the Krath asked.

"I will enjoy it, " Macron giggled, "and after…"

Locke heard no more as consciousness faded. The mission had been a success, the Clan's secrets held.. And he had survived...for now.

---

The End