Survival, Dark Times 3

[Revan Jast]

He shook his head. "If he did, he'd be here right now, flaying the skin from my bones. No, he's busy on some big project of his, I'd image. Or maybe he went back into his hibernation stage. They all tend to do that once in a while. That's where they were for most of the last decade or two, when that stuff with the Empire went down."

He removed his outer robe and laid it across his arm. "Just for the sake of secrecy, you wouldn't mind if I stuck around here, would you? His eyes tend to be a little blind when it comes to finding me if I stick with the evil people."

[hk47fan]

Lady in Blue

I was tempted to scoff, but I wouldn't. I needed Mesiros, and he needed me. I couldn't do much more to my father, now it involved his mental state, so Mesiros had to keep tainting him so that all would go according to plan. And Mesiros now needed me to hide him.

So I didn't see why not. It would be no different than staying with Allison, Jenn, Jan, and Arthren at Xizor's palaces, despite the fact that they all betrayed me.

He can't, though. If this ever gets out, he will die painfully. He can't get out of this.

"Alright," I answered. "This place is well-hidden. I doubt it would be the first place that pops into your Master's mind."

[Revan Jast]

"He has a penchant for dark, dusty tombs, I think. Lakeside resorts aren't really his thing," Mesiros muttered. "With that said, I'm going to crash. Even demigods need their sleep."

He headed inside, stopped midway, and looked back at Mona. "Thanks," he said briefly, then went on his way. Opening a guest room door, he tossed the robe over the back of the only chair in the room and laid on the bed, closing his eyes. For some odd reason, he felt secure here. He also felt extremely tired. Maybe he wouldn't dream tonight.

That was a nice thought.

[hk47fan]

Lady in Blue

I walked back inside as well, calmly walking over to the couch, and taking a seat on it. I thought of all my victims, and how much I had made them suffer. Maybe I didn't get victory over Marlena, but it was still joyous to relish in all the pain and havoc I had caused. The havoc that I was still causing.

Enjoy the NR, Daddy. It will be fun to watch you try to run it but continue to be reduced to shambles all at the same time.

[Revan Jast]

Robby/RJ Co-Post

Kurt slowly pulled himself out of the rubble, his armor having taken most of the beating.

"Fuck yeah, it's gonna take more than a few boxes to kill me, Blades. We've been working together for half an hour and you haven't learned that yet?"

He made sure he had all his weapons, then took off his helmet for a moment and ran a hand through his short, dark brown hair. "That was a hell of a ride," he said, smirking. "I'm sure we woke someone up with all the noise." He descended down the pile of rubble to level ground as he spoke.

"I hear that, bro. I wouldn't be surprised if this whole place is on alert in a little while." Blades said, clenching his fist tightly to distract from the pain in his leg and abdomen. "And I'm actually glad you made it. If you'd have died just from that it would have been funny for about two seconds until I realized I wouldn't have someone to tell my intolerable jokes."

Further down the hall, most of the rest of the compound had indeed been alerted by now. Between whatever Sticks was doing and Blades' blasting everything in sight it was clear that the whole compound knew they were here. Oh well. Bring 'em on. I was tired of sneaking around. Blades thought smugly, sorting through the pile of wrecked crates for anything valuable and intact to confiscate.

After a minute of searching, both of them could hear sounds coming from down the hall. "Okay, it's your turn. Got any ideas, player?"

Kurt didn't say anything at first; he just cocked his head to one side as he took a small circle-like device from his belt and tossed it on the floor in front of the door. He motioned for Blades to take cover and moved to his own cover, waiting for the door to slide up.

When it did, he pushed a button on his wristpad, setting off the detonator. A warm blast of air went past his face, but that was all.

Moving out, he eyed the charred remains of the handful of soldiers that had come to see what had happened.

"According to the data I've been given, the captain's office and quarters are down that way." he said, pointing towards the now open doorway and the hall beyond. "There's 2 or 3 floors to traverse. Now we can go in and shoot them all to hell and use strategy, or we can try and do it the sneaky way." Kurt eyed the men they'd shot earlier. "Guns or a ruse, pick your poison, my wisecracking pal."

"Well considering the fact that it is my partner and not me who has the Plex launcher, I think we should go silent for now." Blades said, flipping his mask up and un-buckling it "We'll just have to make ourselves look the part. Luckily, these bunch of losers don't seem to have any surveillance tech to speak of. Just gotta get my vest and wet gear off and I'm as plain as they are underneath."

Blades took off his vest and extra equipment and unzipped his wet weather clothes. Underneath he wore civilian clothes like a lot of the pirates did. A plain brown shirt and a pair of green work pants. He re-buckled his hip holster and put his vest back on. To make him look like the pirate who had just killed him, he strapped his mask onto the hammer loop on the left side of his pants. Luckily for him, he also hadn't shaved for a couple weeks so a full stubble covered his face.

"Okay, I'm dressed to kill. What about you?" Blades asked Kurt, turning around to look at him.

Kurt had removed his vest, took the long sleeved black shirt off and left his black t-shirt on. He wore dark grey/brown cargo pants with plenty of pockets. He slid his vest back onto his frame and buckled it shut. As for the helmet...

He took it off and tossed it aside, but the nice goggles stayed. He placed them in a pocket on his vest and slung his rifle over his shoulder.

"I'm set. Let's pretend one of... "them" got away. That is... if they're smart enough to figure out there were two people who attacked their base. But something tells me they're not."

Ten creds says "Not smart enough!" Blades grinned and buckled his bladed bracer onto his left forearm. He pumped his forearm in an 'in your face' fashion and flashed some symbols at Kurt "Yeh you got dat right, son." he said in a ghetto-sounding voice at first "Now that we're more in our element, you wanna practice your fist bumps? I'll be honest, man. You really need it."

Blades decided it wasn't worth it to try and bring Rose with him. Too suspicious. Instead he dressed up one of the charred bodies in his wet gear and left the sensually decorated sniper rifle in it's hands so he could pick it back up when they finished sacking the place later on. His pistols and assault rifle, however, remained where they belonged.

Kurt sighed. "Well, why the fuck not, Blades? It works for the element, I suppose."

He made a fist with his right hand and raised it. "So uh, is it just a punch or what?"

Kurt was completely lost here. It was one thing to work with someone and entirely something else working with someone who was totally buddy-buddy. It was strange in his eyes, but they made a damn fine team, he had to admit that.

Blades chuckled and rolled his eyes. "Yeah." he said "It's just like that. I'll let you do it this time, see how you do." He made a fist with his right hand and held it out, bending his wrist for added effect. "The important thing is to make it just solid enough. Now let's have it."

[RobbyL9]

Blurt

Kurt punched Blades right on the knuckles, then looked at his hand as if it just came from another planet. Did he really just do a fist bump?

"I trust that's good enough for an image? Or do I have more get-in-the-zoning to do?"

Kurt checked his belt as he spoke, making sure he had his knife and pistol secured.

For a few seconds, Blades kept a look of feigned surprise. He clucked his tongue "Not too bad." he remarked putting down his hand "Not too bad at all. With a little bit of practice, I'm willing to bet I can turn you into a well-oiled bro-force machine. You feelin' it?" Blades nudged at Kurt with his elbow and walked for the door "Yeah I know you feelin' it!"

Blades laughed and strutted over to the door, kicking some wreckage out of the way and looking back. "You comin'? We can practice on the way and I'll show you some tricks. We still have to cover arm bumps, hi fives and gangsta whaps."

"G-gangsta whaps? What the fuck is that? Just where have you been, anyways, to pick up all this shit? Or is it, dare I say, in your... blood?"

Kurt walked beside his temporary partner and tried his best to look casual. "Actually, that's a fucking good idea. We're gonna be knee deep in dead soon, so let's take a moment to learn each other better. Words tell a hell of a lot more about someone than bullets."

Blades continued to walk in a strut down the hall beside his new bud. "Sure. Even though my identity is supposed to be sorta classified by the PMC I work for, I never cared much for rules. Although I can't just say everything because 'BOOM' goes my mystique if I do." he remarked, trying to think of something interesting to say.

"Well, how about this? I grew up on a planet in a place that isn't the Core or the Outer Rim. The summers are wet, the women beautiful and the Mon Calamari extra fishy." Blades dug up a memory from his distant past "I joined the Army when I was 18 and no sooner than I did, the drill sergeants were all over me about how good I was. Oh and uh, 'round this corner."

Blades paused momentarily to correct his walking and round the corner toward the freight elevator. He bent over to retie his boots and went on "Anyways, the drill sergeants got me to join the Special Forces. It was fun enough learning to infiltrate and blow shit up. And I'll be honest with you the blowing shit up part was what won me over."

He finished tying his left boot "But we never actually got to do that in the galactic conflict, so mostly we just sat on our asses after training and trained some more to stay on our toes. So now here I am."

Interesting, Kurt thought.

"Intriguing," Kurt said. Silence for a few moments, but he knew Blades was waiting for him to speak. Finally, he said: "I've not been a merc for hire for very long. 5 years, give or take a few months... but the business of killing... yes, I've been doing that-

-----------

-for a long time. Do you hear me?! They'll put you away for a VERY long time!"

She was screaming at him, like that'd have a more noticeable effect. He tuned her words out, making them so much useless projectiles bouncing off their intended target. He was still staring down the sights of the pistol, smoke rising from the mouth of the barrel. He wondered, just for a moment, what it was like to be on the other side. To stare into that endless tunnel, that lifeless black eye.

Hands trembling slightly, he lowered the weapon so that it pointed towards the ground, his eyes never wavering from the corpse that now lay before him. The mans eyes were still open, a look of shock frozen on his face. He thought Kurt didn't know what he'd done. But Kurt knew.

"Shut up," the teenager snapped. She shut up. He'd never snapped at his sister this way before, but tonight was different. Tonight he was filled with rage. He wasn't himself. "I just saved your ass."

It was her turn to wear the shocked expression. He was a quiet, nice kid. Nice kids didn't swear. She told him that.

"Nice fathers don't fuck their daughters either," he said, looking at her. His blue eyes seemed to be as dark and stormy as the weather around them. His longish hair was plastered to his head like a helmet, his face stern, his hands still gripping the gun. When he'd first taken it from it's hiding place, it had felt strange. But now it felt just right. He had held it, pulled it's trigger, made it speak in a language that was known to everyone but only truly felt by some. It was a personal relationship now, a man and his weapon.

His last line had made her cry, and she dropped to her knees as the rain continued to pour around them. He had trouble discerning the tears on her face from the raindrops, but her loud sobs were clear enough. She slowly crawled towards the body on her hands and knees.

"Do you like what he did to you?" he asked.

She stopped and looked at him, her eyes now red, her lips trembling. "N-n-no, I d-didn't-"

"Then stay away from him," he snapped, and she stayed there on her knees, her head bowed and her shoulders shaking with each sob. He knelt beside her and put his arms around her, kissing her on the cheek. "It's alright, sis... he can't hurt you anymore."

She pressed her face against his shoulder, still crying. He caressed her hair and realized that he had to go. She was right. If they got him, they'd put him away. The old man had covered well, and they'd see her words as a ruse to keep her brother out of prison.

He pulled away from her, but she gripped his arms and looked him in the eyes. She opened her mouth to say something, but he spoke before she could. "You're welcome," he said. "I have to go now."

She understood and let him go. Standing, he turned and ran down the nearest alleyway, splashing through the puddles of water, beer, and piss. Such a shitty place this was... but he called it home.

He suddenly realized he was still carrying the gun and he almost threw it into the nearest gutter, but he held on. He raised the weapon and turned it this way and that, almost admiring it. He would keep it... for now.

His thoughts returned to the moments before he'd pulled the trigger and the moment of his becoming, when he and his weapon became one and spoke as one. A final message for those who had fallen alongside the way and had tuned out everything else, those who had shoved everything that is right and just in this galaxy aside and given into their most carnal desires.

Yes, he would keep it.

Shoving the gun into the waistband of his pants, he started to run again. He didn't know where he was going, but he knew that no matter what, he would do his best to survive.

In the pouring rain, under the lights and night of Coruscant, Kurt Jervada began to smile.

------------

He realized that Blades was waiting for him to say something else besides "I've been killing for a long time". He blinked a few times and smiled apologetically. "Sorry, was woolgathering. I'm not like you though. I don't have that military background. Everything I know and do, I learned myself. Much better that way. When someone else teaches you stuff, you've got invisible goals they set for you. And when you don't reach that goal or whatever, they'll be disappointed. They won't say it, but you'll see it in their eyes. Teach yourself, and the only goals you have to deal with are your own."

He was silent for a moment longer. "As for why I do what I do... well, someone has to fix the people who fuck up and know they're fucking up. The ones who fuck up on purpose, if you know what I mean. People like the man I'm after today."

[Revan Jast]

Robby/RJ Co-Post

"Yeah, I think I know what you mean. I mean, you know these rich guys, right?" Blades said shaking his head, thinking about them "They act all superior, they flaunt their riches and according to the public, they're just perfectly legit businessmen, right? Yeah, not the case according to the private military companies they keep hiring. These days a successful business is only as good as the mercs it pays to keep labor and kickbacks in line. Know what I mean?"

For a moment, Blades reflected on the precise meaning of his previous statement. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy getting paid to fight, or that working for rich jerks was beneath him and it certainly wasn't that being a mercenary wasn't his preferred profession. After all, would he have gotten as many girls by being a straight-edge military boy scout back home?

No, Blades definitely enjoyed the fighting, but it had always disappointed him that since the Galactic Civil War ended and the galaxy was in a state of relative stability and unity that the only jobs he ever got hired for were assassinations, labor disputes, spice trade problems (on either side of the law) and so on. As far as actual military service went, Blades had a non-existent rap sheet. Just once. he wished I'd like to do what I trained for. Know what a real conflict feels like.

He turned towards Kurt and grinned "I dunno. I suppose one thing the corporate stone-heads have going for them is they have access to some of the best escort services and ain't picky about sharing." he chuckled "Hell, sometimes they ARE the escort service. Man, that job was the best!"

Kurt smiled a bit. "You'll have to tell me about that one. Blades, let's go through here."

The pair hooked a right down another hallway. Kurt explained as they walked.

"If we come directly from the chaos, they'll be suspicious as to why we didn't radio for help or even better yet, why we're not there finding out what happened."

Kurt said to take a left up ahead and then another left to the main rooms. "Hopefully there will be an access shaft or maybe an elevator to get down below. About that job?"

Blades just nodded and agreed with what Kurt was saying without listening much, his mind focused on recalling the job. It was a year and a few months after he had decided to become a mercenary. He and Sticks had been hanging around the PMC headquarters not really doing much since their previous assignment a few days before. Then as if fate itself spoke, or maybe boredom, their datapads lit up and they were off to Coronet, Corellia.

Blades explained this quickly as they walked along and looked for a shaft. "So anyway, the corporation was called First Impressions but we didn't know what line of business they were in until we got there." he told Kurt while they walked "All the email told us was that they were in need of a couple of trained bodyguards who wouldn't mind attending a social function, right? So we get to the building and what do we see?"

"Let me guess: twi'lek strippers as far as the eye can see." Kurt replied, chuckling.

Blades shook his head and snickered "Well, at least now I know which species you like. That'll help if we ever go out on the town. But ironically, no, a fair amount of them were twi'lek but that's it. It was not only a huge building, but also a very diverse crowd." Blades held out his hand and counted off his fingers as he went on "Not just twi'leks, but I'm talking zeltrons, mirialans, zabraks, humans, some mon calamari, a pair of juhani-cathar. And I swear it must have been just a roleplaying act because she saw us so well, but the woman who greeted us and escorted us to the director's office..." he quickly snapped his fingers "Looked like a miraluka."

As the two went on, Blades explained the details of the mission. The director, Ema Kard, needed to attend a madame's version of a world-wide seminar. Basically, a large two-full-day gathering of the various escort services and hers to discuss business of the last financial period, negotiate swappings of labor, relax in a party setting, and even compare fashions in a fashion show.

That wasn't the only thing, however. One of the other companies was thought to be plotting a big insult to the image of First Impressions. This was something of a normal practice, because the gathering was very competitive in nature, but two girls had received obscene letters threatening them with violence if they attended. To keep anything from happening. Blades and Sticks just had to carry pistols and dress nice with a pretty girl on their shoulder.

Right around the time Blades explained that part, they walked by a sign with an arrow pointing towards a freight elevator down the hall ahead of them. "There's where we're going, yeah?"

Kurt nodded. "Looks like they set a watchdog on it. Leave the talking to me."

Kurt approached the guard station and rested one arm on its marble top, drumming his fingers restlessly. "You rang?"

The man behind the desk looked up, a bit wary. "Yes?"

Kurt grinned. "Cheer up, buddy. I'm just heading down with my pal here."

"I see. I'll have to rad-"

"Hey, wanna hear something funny?" Kurt asked, motioning with his other hand for Blades to step on the elevator. "So this friend of mine was fucking a twi'lek chick real good, completely out of his mind. Doggystyle, sixty-nine, little bit of cowgirl in there too. They go at it all night long and they're tired silly by morning."

While Kurt spoke, he walked towards the elevator and turned around to face the desk once he was in front of it. "So anyways, she rolls over and drapes her arm across his body, but he's not really caring cause she has this great pair of tits, right? Well, all of a sudden she goes: 'Hey, you don't have any STD's, do you?' And my friend is like, no. She goes: 'Great! I'd hate to catch another one of those!' "

The guard burst out laughing and Kurt joined him, stepping backwards into the elevator and hitting the button. "I'll tell the boss that one!"

Before the guard even bothered to notice that they were going down below, the doors had shut and they were moving.

Kurt smirked. "And that is how you infiltrate a pirate base."

[RobbyL9]

Blades shrugged and smiled, giving Kurt a slap on the shoulder before going on. "So anyways. Sticks and I are just hanging for a few days and getting ready for the event. On the day of the event, we got up and dressed to the nines and went to the building to meet our charges." Blades leaned back against the railing of the elevator.

Thinking about what happened next made him smirk and nod his head. "This is where it gets a little funny, see. Our charges were a mon calamari and a rodian. We didn't even bother playing rock-paper-scissors to decide who would get who, we just held out our arms and let them pick. The rodian chick picked me and just as we got out of the speeder taking us there, she kissed me on the cheek with that tube of hers. I ain't gonna lie man, I turned red."

The smile turned into a sheepish one and he started busting out laughing. Blades continued laughing as the elevator neared its destination.

"I'm sorry, Blades, but that just had to suck," Kurt said, then realized the words he picked. "Shit, I'm hoping it didn't!" he covered, grinning. "Please tell me you did NOT bed the rodian or, God forbid, go for a threesome."

Kurt at least preferred his aliens somewhat human-like.

Blades' sheepish smile grew more intense as he looked up nervously and shrugged. "Ehh, well you see I was her date for the night and we did have to look the part and we were being watched pretty consistently for the next day and a half, so... Well, y'know." he paused and shrugged as he looked down guiltily.

Suddenly his expression normalized all at once and he looked back up. "Nah. Nothing happened. I protected her, endured a couple days as her boyfriend and took her back. Easiest couple 'a creds I ever made. I did need to protect her though. It turned out that one of the other girls in a rival company was trying to put poison in her makeup."

Of course Blades knew he was lying. He had gotten used to doing so when it came to this story. What had actually happened when he found out about the attempted poisoning was much different. He had had a little too much spice, just like everyone else at that party, and decided when he caught the girl in the act that it was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

He threatened to report her to CorSec and have her arrested if she didn't do what he wanted. Reluctantly, she agreed and waited in the room for the rodian to get back. Blades then convinced the rodian (spiced up as well) to sleep with him and have a three-way with the girl who tried to poison her. The rodian spent the rest of her evening unwittingly being pleasured by the girl who tried to disfigure her, while Blades watched from underneath.

As disturbing as it was to think of it in sobriety, Blades had to admit that the tube of a Rodian could do some pretty interesting things when it wanted to. But he'd wait a while before trying it again.

Kurt snorted. "I was expecting something else, since it seemed to be so memorable."

Kurt thought Blades wasn't being entirely truthful, but there was no need to pry. If he wanted to fuck a Rodian, let him fuck it.

"I've had a few interesting jobs. A lot of them blend in because it's usually the same shit, one job after the other. But every once in a while you get a real gem. But enough about alien pussy, because I'm sure we've both had our share of that. Let's talk about blood. Preferably red."

Kurt crossed his arms and grew serious. "Most people don't know my name, and for all you know, I'm not really a Kurt. But we'll go out on a limb and say that I am. But I know you're no Blades."

Kurt smirked. "A man named Blades and I'm the one with the fucking knife. Irony at it's best."

Blades had forgotten to mention the best part to Kurt before he was through. "Well actually, that was a memorable mission because it was when my partner got caught on camera with another woman on his arm." he explained with a slight laugh "His longtime honey got wind of the footage and shot him a pretty choice email that ended with the word 'you'. To cheer him up, I traded in a lot of my payment for the mission to buy the services of a handful of the company's best talent. They tended to his every need and got him right back on his feet." The broad grin on his face stayed there as he leaned back against the elevator and nodded.

As soon as Kurt brought up names, however, Blades straightened out again. It was PMC policy that all operatives go by an alias and wear a mask as often as possible for a reason. Their identity needed to be preserved in order to avoid repercussions on anyone but the company itself, which would be anybody's funeral. Failure to abide was career suicide and in this line of work, that meant actual suicide. Besides, Blades hated his real name.

"You need to adjust your goggles there, soldier boy." he said cracking his neck "My knife is right here on my vest." he pointed to it "And I technically have more blades than you do because of this thing right here." Blades held up his left forearm and flashed his leather bracer. On top of it were bolted four unusually shaped blades, star-like in appearance, that varied in size from large to small the closer to his wrist they got.

"As for my actual name? I need it. It's PMC policy to protect my identity on the job, which is why I also wear the mask most times. When they told me that, I was kind of at a loss for a while trying to think of a good name." Blades explained while he adjusted his knee pads and tightened his boots "Then, I thought of mine and Sticks' favorite rock band, Rankur Bläd. I went to a concert, bought one of their logos and took it to the machine shop and had some metal copies made of it and bolted on this baby. That enough for you to know?"

Kurt nodded. "Fair enough, Blades. And the number of knives you have, while impressive, isn't what may save your life. All you really need is one... it's where you strike that counts. I prefer to snipe any non-primary targets."

Kurt stroked his chin. "I don't work for any company, however. I'm my own man, which raises the price a bit. But I work just as good as any group of mercs." He smiled a bit. "Maybe even better."

The elevator slowly came to a halt and the doors slid open. "Our stop," Kurt said, getting off. "Time to meet the boss."

"All right. Let's go. Oh but one more lesson before we go. For luck." Blades let go of his rifle and let it hang. Using his left hand, he brought Kurt's right one up and held it in position. He clapped his hand onto Kurt's so that they formed an arrow pointing up, with their thumbs wrapped around each other. To anybody unfamiliar with it, it would appear to be the world's most messed-up handshake.

"Just do it a little harder and you've got a gangsta whap. Got it?"

[Revan Jast]

Kurt nodded. "I've got it. Let's get this show on the road and blow shit up."

Kurt pushed through the doors ahead of them and walked into the biggest room he'd seen yet. He quickly checked his wristpad mini-map. "Tunnels branching away from this place like it's a fucking hive. I suppose it is."

He took the nearest staircase to the second floor walkway and kept walking, brushing past the pirates and workers. "What's your first plan, Blades? Rig the place or kill him?"

"We need to clear the place out first. Rigging the place to blow before we've had a chance to confiscate the goods isn't smart." Blades said, prepping his rifle for rapid fire "And plus we still need to meet up with my partner, so it would be good to draw their forces down here to leave him some kind of opening."

When he finished saying this he followed Kurt up the walkway "I don't suppose you've got a 'which way do we go now?' app on that thing of yours?" Blades asked pointing to the mini-map.

"Sadly, no. But that's alright. I'll just-"

He suddenly reached out, grabbed a nearby pirate around the neck, covered his mouth, and dragged him into a side room. He took his knife and placed it against his throat. "Where do you keep your supplies?"

"Mhmmmhhhhmm!"

"Oh right," Kurt said, starting to remove his hand. "Oh, if you scream, I kill you."

The pirate nodded and Kurt took his hand away. "So?"

"Who are you?"

Kurt smiled. "I'm a ninja in a pirate suit. Who are you?"

"I'm... wait, did you just-"

"Never mind who you are. I don't give a shit unless you can tell me where you keep the majority of your supplies."

"W-why? What do you want with them?"

"I'm gonna donate them to charity. Seriously, what the fuck do you think I want with them? I'm stealing them!"

"Um... third floor, door code is 012345."

"Really? You better not be fuck-"

The pirate gulped. "It's 489302!!! Please don't kill me!"

"Much better, pal. Hm, anything else I should know about?"

"Well, the chef stops in there once in a while to get food for the kitchen."

"I'm not worried about the fucking chef. The worst thing he can do is hit me with a frozen slab of Wompa Meat. I'm talking about guards!"

"Um, a few."

"A few?"

"...dozen."

"Smart guy. I'm glad you can count. Did you bring your pillow?"

"No, wh-"

Kurt hit the pirate in the top of the head with the hilt of his knife, knocking him unconscious. He looked at Blades and shrugged. "I was feeling generous. Let's go."

Blades quickly bent down and wrapped his arms around the unconscious pirate's head. Twisting quickly, he snapped the man's head around and cracked the bones in his neck, killing him instantly. He then stashed the body in an inconspicuous spot in the room and closed the door, leaving quickly. "So was I." Blades whispered after catching up "We don't need anybody following us. Let's keep going and see if there's anything we can do to help Sticks get down here."

Kurt smiled. He was catching on.

"We could set a fire somewhere. Maybe lob an explosive pineapple over there. Yeah, explosive pineapple it is."

Kurt motioned for Blades to throw one.

"Hey! We got some movement over there!" Kurt yelled, pointing to a stack of boxes. A small group of pirates looked that way and starting walking towards it.

"Ok, let's move around," Kurt said, running away from the stairs. He waited for the boom, then opened fire on everyone in front of him, which consisted of 4 men and a twi'lek poster.

"Shit has hit the fan. Blades, cover me while I get to higher ground," he said, pressing a button on his rifle. The scope lit up, and he raised his rifle to hip level. "Two behind you, against the wall. Good luck!"

Kurt turned and ran, darting up the stairs. He grabbed his knife and swung, slitting the throat of the man at the top and pushing his body over the rail with his rifle. Pop. pop. with the pistol. Two more down.

Once he found a suitable spot behind some crates, he ran to both ends of the hallway and placed mines to take care of anyone who would wander in. Taking his position, he raised the rifle to his shoulder and looked down the scope. Now we're in my element, he thought.

"Let the hunt begin."

He pulled the trigger.

BAM!

The two pirates that Kurt was motioning two attacked before Blades had a chance to react. One swung his rifle butt like a club and barely missed hitting him in the head as he ducked, causing the pirate to fall forward past Blades. While Blades was recovering, the second one managed to score a solid hit to his head, which disoriented him.

Reaching blindly in his dizziness, Blades grappled for the gun and held on tight once he had it. He pulled forward hard and gave the pirate a nasty headbutt with all his might. Blades thought he could hear something crunch just before the pirate's grip on the rifle slackened.

That had all happened in the space of a couple seconds at most, however. More than enough time for the guy who failed to hit Blades to get back up. Blades whipped around just as he heard the familiar discharge of a blaster rifle shooting at him. One shot hit him in an unprotected spot on his side, one was half stopped as it hit the edge of the padding and two more shots hit his vest as he charged at the pirate.

He knocked the weapon aside as it discharged a final time and hit him in the left bicep. Putting all his rage into it, Blades punched the pirate in the face and tossed him face first into a wall. Just to make sure he was dead, Blades caught the man as he fell to the floor, brought him back up and wrapped his arm around his head, breaking the man's neck.

Because of his adrenaline high, Blades didn't fully realize the pain until after the fight. He could feel his skin burning and thought he might have had a cracked rib or two from the vest shots. Nevertheless, he continued on through the room, taking cover and fighting the armed pirates as they came to him. These ones seemed much better marksmen than the ones on the surface and much more ruthless, so it was likely they were meant to serve as the Captain's guard unit.

Kurt launched a grenade from the underslung nade launcher on his rifle, blowing a group of three to pieces. He quickly hit another one in the head, then shot one that was coming up behind Blades.

"Blades! Work your way up here! I'll keep them off your ass!"

He didn't see the guard behind him though till it was almost too late. Something hit him in the side of the head just as he caught someone out of the corner of his eye. Pain exploded there, and he fired off a shot in reflex. He hoped he didn't hit Blades.

Growling, he quickly recovered and turned, rushing his opponent and slamming them against the wall. The guard was stunned, and that gave Kurt the edge. Unsheathing his knife, he drove the blade into the mans lower gut, just above his crotch. He pulled upwards, unzipping the guard and watching as his insides spilled out, his hand suddenly covered in warm, bloody guts. The guard was screaming, but Kurt didn't hear him. Snarling, the merc grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him towards the edge of the walkway, flinging him over.

The men below saw this display and nearly scattered, but a voice over the comms stopped them, ordering them to stand their ground.

"Fool," Kurt muttered. "He knows he's sending them to their deaths. Not that he cares... and neither do I."

He picked up his rifle again and began covering for Blades.

[RobbyL9]

While the guards were busy turning around and getting back to holding their ground, Blades emerged from his cover. He quickly pumped rounds into the two that he could see, but the others remained hidden. There were at least four, maybe five, more behind the crates across from him and they all blind-fired randomly to stop the two mercs' rapid advance.

As the firing continued, Blades looked for any shot he could take. But the guards were taking turns so rapidly, that they seemed to have effectively pinned him down. And in addition to the large amount of pain he was in from his wounds, Blades could now feel the familiar sensation of blood dripping from them.

He let of a burst of fire and reached for his auto-injector. He put in one of the Bacta-Kolto cocktails that he kept in the capsules and moved the injector tube in a stabbing motion onto his left bicep. The switch depressed and popped into place, letting loose the sound of compressed air.

Blades swore he could feel the chemicals swirling through his veins like a cool winter breeze. His wounds coagulated and he twirled the injector tube in his fingers, laughing. Slipping it back into its place, he yelled out smugly "Prepare a stretcher for me, you brave boys! Come and get me!"

Then, he looked absently down at the injector and got an even better idea. He pulled out the injector again and simultaneously reached into a small, one-item bag on his belt. He unzipped it, revealing another auto-injector capsule, but filled with an almost neon green liquid.

Quickly replacing the capsules, Blades raised the injector up again and stabbed his bicep. This time a much different sort of feeling swirled through him. His veins first grew warm, then hot, before finally boiling with all the rage of a freshly branded wookiee. His eyes widened and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

Visions flashed through his mind of his days in basic training, then Special Forces, all of which reminded him of one fact: the true meaning of life. Blades inhaled sharply and emerged from behind his cover yelling out murderously over the commotion and filling the room with his cries.

He held down the trigger and fired rapidly in a cone at the pirates before him, walking forward slowly like an emissary of death itself.

"You want some of this?! DO YOU WANT. SOME. OF. THIS?!!!!"

Kurt bared his teeth in a feral grin. Blades had just gone nuts, and damn, Kurt was impressed by the display. His area of expertise was covertness and striking from the shadows carefully, but even he could wowed by the display that was now before him. He was quick to try and take out anyone who was getting around Blades, but to be honest, those were few.

Blades turned to the left, mowing down a few more soldiers, causing one of them to duck behind cover. It did no good, because he was still in Kurt's sights. He blew the guard's head off and sent him to hell.

The room was clearing out fast, and neither of the two had been extremely injured. Kurt was sure the captain had to be shaking in his boots by now, because his "impressive" guard had just been decimated by two men in light armor and wielding a handful of weapons between them.

"Move your ass Blades! We've got one chickenshit fucker to attend to very shortly. Wouldn't want to deprive him of that, now would we?"

Blades was not paying attention to anything other than the fight he was in. Now wearing his mask again, he surged with adrenaline and rage. Two more pirates had attempted to take him by surprise and attack him hand to hand. Bad idea. When one swung his rifle, Blades just grabbed it and jerked the pirate toward him. He quickly landed a heavy blow to the man's stomach and knocked the wind out of him. When the other guy tried the same, he blocked the rifle, punched him in the chin, then chopped him in the throat.

With the second pirate on the ground wheezing and coughing, Blades roughly grabbed the first one by the head and drew back his own head. In one swift movement, he headbutted the stunned man with his mask. This sent a crimson rain of blood everywhere as the horns of the Zabrak face he wore tore into the man's flesh and his skull fractured.

Blades was surprised when the second suddenly jumped to his feet and began strangling him from behind with a piece of wire. This didn't even hurt so much as it annoyed Blades and he reacted accordingly. With a swift elbow, Blades knocked the wind out of the second one and loosened his grip enough that Blades could grab his wrists.

Like two solid vices, he forced his attacker's hands to open and quickly took control of the wire himself. Turning around and wrapping the wire around his neck, Blades looked into the eyes of his latest victim. Both had widened their eyes, Blades with his rage and the pirate in sheer horror at what he was staring at. Just before he blacked out and the last bit of life dissipated from his body, the pirate was afforded a final glimpse of the solid, shiftless Zabrak face and the blood-shot eyes which stared at him without a single blink to give a sense of humanity to them.

The man finally choked and died, allowing Blades to throw his body aside and turn back towards the door to the next room. Readying his pistols and forgetting entirely about Kurt, he kicked the door open and slid in on his knees. He watched the final two remaining guards on either side of him raise their weapons and fire in slow motion. He fired a shot from each pistol and hit them, killing one instantly with a head shot and hitting one in the chest, knocking him back with the same effect.

The trandoshan captain lay in front of Blades in perfect sight. He quickly pointed his pistols and fired rapidly at the overgrown lizard. Just as he skidded to a stop from his slide, Blades noticed that there was one more guard in the room and watched as the shots he fired hit the man, who now served as the captain's personal meat shield.

The man's body dropped to the floor and Blades quickly skipped to his feet, screaming at the captain to drop the D-18 pistol he was holding. He had already pointed it at Blades' head, but had hesitated to fire.

"Freeze muthafucka' I gots you cold!" Blades yelled at the top of his lungs.

"Not a chance, pile of mercenary filth." Captain Skosska responded in dosh.

Blades crossed his arms one on top of the other, in his gangsta stance, yelling out rapidly "Skosska, you have three seconds and you just wasted ONE. TWO! THR-"

The captain's clawed finger tensed on the trigger and Blades jumped out of the way just as a blaster bolt came spiraling to where his head once was. He flew to the right towards the wall, firing all the way but missing the captain as he took refuge behind his overturned metallic desk.

[Revan Jast]

Blades was on the run, paying no attention to Kurt whatsoever. His movements were off, and he was throwing caution to the wind. The merc scowled as Blades rushed into the offices on his own. Standing, Kurt grappled himself to the iron rail and threw himself over the edge, heading for the floor below him upside down. He aimed his pistol and took out another guard.

He flipped back over and landed on his feet smoothly, disengaging the cable and running to the left walkway that led to the captains office. One of the guards behind him and below him got smart, though, and shot one of the mines he'd set up on the higher floor. The explosion went off with a resounding boom, the shrapnel spraying out in all directions. Kurt ducked, but his right arm was nicked by a piece of flying debris. The majority of the damage was done to the above catwalk. which fell with a scream of bending and tearing metal.

"Fuck," Kurt muttered, his way now blocked. Scowling, he removed his helmet and threw it across the way,hitting a guard running for the captains quarters directly on the head and knocking him out. He brought his goggles down and glared at the men down below, a fierce and dark grin on his face.

"Don't stand there!" one of them yelled. "Shoot him!"

They didn't have time. Kurt leaped over the side and landed on the first one's shoulders, then pushed off and forward, stepping on another one's head. He used the momentum to launch himself up, reaching for a low hanging pipe. Gripping it, he swung up and around to gather up speed before letting go and flying like a human missile for the walkway. He saw at the last moment that he wasn't going to clear it.

Hitting the metal rail with the back of his knees, he quickly grabbed it with his right hand, his legs sliding off and downward. His body was the slave of gravity; his weight combined with his armor were too much. Pain exploded as his shoulder dislocated, he barely managed to grab the rail with his other hand. He yelled in pain, pulling himself up and over the railings. Laying on his back for a moment, he groaned and stood, walking into the office. Blades was out in the open; the man they were after was standing with a gun in hand. Wincing, Kurt reached for his knife and threw it. His aim was true; the blade caught the Captain in the wrist and pinned his gun hand to the wall behind him. The Trando was no doubt shocked at the arrival of the second mercenary.

Kurt spit on one of the guard corpses and looked at Blades. He looked back at the lizard and then at Blades again, drawing his pistol. He'd had this weapon for a long time... it was the pistol he had used to kill his father all those years before, and it had sent a lot of souls to hell in the years since. He held it out, grip first.

"Only a bullet would do him justice, Blades. Take it and kill him."

Blades nearly jumped at the sudden arrival of another person in the room. His head jerked in the direction of the knife throwing and his pistols soon followed, both pointing at Kurt for a few moments before lowering. The captain screamed in agony from being pinned against the wall and attempted to pull the knife out and free himself, filling the room with more screams and drawing Blades' attention back.

He jumped over the overturned table and landed on top of the captain's shitty pea-shooter of a pistol. In two swift movements, Blades slid the blaster away by kicking backwards and used this to wind up a solid kick to the lizard's chest. The captain wheezed and hacked as he fell forward onto the floor. A strained scream also escaped his mouth as he went too far forward and felt the knife slice into his hand some more.

"Pa-THETIC!" Blades yelled down at him "Thought you were 'sposed to be some... Big shot pirate captain. Raids ships, sacks space stations. Raids, rapes, pillages, plunders and pilfers the living shit out of those more vulnerable than him, perhaps? And now you've just been taken out by two guys, two pistols and a knife."

Mishearing what Kurt said when he held out his pistol, Blades looked down the iron sights of his FW-G5s and closed one eye, preparing to 'do him justice'. "Like I said..." he whispered in a mad, climactic tone "Pathetic."

Kurt walked around Blades to his right side and held up the pistol. "Take it. If you're going to deliver justice, do it right."

Kurt waited for him to take the weapon, all the while scowling at the captain.

"The- the Hunter?!" the trando sputtered, hissing.

Kurt only smiled. His shoulder was throbbing like a bitch, but it could wait.

Blades' Yarrock high was lightening slightly now, so some of his common sense was coming back. But because a large amount of the blood rage remained, he felt his nerves being tread upon. Why wasn't it good enough for him to use his blaster pistols, why was Kurt making him use that stupid pistol of his when Blades already had his much more attractive pistols 'Lefty' and 'Shorty' ready to fire.

In a rapid-fire fashion, more images began to flash through his mind. But they were not of his past, but rather of the future. It all started with him pulling the triggers of his guns and disobeying Kurt. Then it flashed to an unknown amount of time later with Blades and Sticks in a bar fight against some thugs. Blades is hit over the head with a chair and is almost knocked completely out when he notices Kurt and tries to call out. But Kurt doesn't respond and Blades dies of a head injury. He has lost the game and Kurt has won.

"No. Better to do it. Better to make good with him now and make him trust you. That way, when the time comes, you will win the game instead of him." a voice whispered inside his head, vibrating off the sides of his skull and sloshing his gray matter about like a soda.

"Okay." Blades responded, apparently to Kurt but possibly to the voice. Not even he completely knew which.

In a few swift motions, Blades twirled his pistols on his fingers in such a way that they rotated back into their holsters when he moved them through the air. Once his hands were free he grabbed the pistol from Kurt's hand without hesitation. Blades pointed his elbow, extended his arm all the way, and pulled the trigger the second the pistol pointed at the captain's head. The lizard didn't even have time to beg properly.

The discharge of the bullet and the splattering of Skosska's brains on the wall sent more images through Blades' head. Ships being attacked in space, women screaming and men shielding their families from explosions. A pirate ship flies by, continuing to fire its lasers but then vanishes into thin air as if it never existed. The passenger ship also returns to its original state, the families are happy. The picture of Skossa's wanted poster appears, a stamp being rolled across it which reads "DECEASED". He has lost the game.

"Score one for me." Blades muttered handing the pistol back to Kurt, his gaze not leaving the hole he created in the captain's head.

Kurt took the pistol and dropped it back into his holster. He watched Blades carefully, searching his face for his reaction. Blades hadn't wanted to do it. Even hyped up on drugs, he hadn't wanted to. He didn't have the demeanor of a cold blooded killer, only one who saw death as a means to get on, grab another paycheck and a little more sex. He was too free in his work. Kurt could understand. Kurt could sympathize. He'd been that way himself once.

Except for the first kill... that one was colder than a stone in winter. He'd never forget that one.

"Blades, grab my forearm. I dislocated my shoulder out there on the walkway and we gotta fix it."

Kurt placed his own hand on his upper arm, gritting his teeth against the coming pain.

Finally taking his eyes off of the dead man in front of him, Blades' common sense guided him over towards Kurt. He grabbed Kurt's forearm without a word and prepared to put it back in as best he could recall from field medicine class. He lifted it into place and prepared to slide it back in with one swift motion. "Here goes." he breathed.

Just then, someone walked into the room and said in a scolding tone "What the HELL, Blades?!" Responding to his name, Blades turned his head away just as he slid Kurt's forearm into place. His eyes widened as he could hear the joint making a sickening popping sound. It sounded to Blades like the job had been done, but he probably should have kept his eyes on it to make sure it had been done right.

Looking rapidly from Sticks to Kurt a couple times, Blades finally dropped Kurt's arm and looked behind him at the dead pirate captain. "Uhhmmmmm..." the merc said sheepishly from behind his mask "Ta-dah!"

Sticks rolled his eyes from behind his mask and stepped forward. He rapidly flipped up Blades' mask, slapped him on the face and then slammed the mask down so it hit him in the chin. "MORON! I told you to SIGNAL, damn you! TWO PINGS!" he yelled, practically going into conniptions before looking over at Kurt "And I don't even want to know what you've done to this place! I don't even want to know who this dingus is! I've already loaded up a lot of stuff from upstairs that you DIDN'T destroy. Let's just go to the warehouse and load up some stuff on a skiff and get out of here! The ship can get the rest. Now come on!"

Kurt winced in pain and growled as his arm popped back in. He twisted it experimentally; everything was fine. He looked sharply at the newcomer and listened to his speech. Finally, he said:

"Your partner, Blades? Interesting. I wonder what he was doing outside the whole time? But I digress, we have work to do. You've got stuff to take out, get your ass on it because when I get done here, this place is gonna reach for the fucking sky."

Their work as a team was done; the bond was severed, neatly, like a pair of scissors cutting tape or a knife cutting an artery. He walked past Sticks and collected his helmet from the hallway floor, putting his goggles up and placing the helmet back on his head. "Let's get moving, folks. This train is starting up and it doesn't stop till we get to fucking hell itself."

[RobbyL9]

The three of them left the captain's office, his dead, scaled body destined to be forgotten when the place was blown up. Blades, still reeling from the slap that his pissed off partner had given him did his best to focus his mind on ignoring the schizophrenic influence the drugs had over him. He followed Sticks the rest of the way, who seemed to know his way through the facility. He must have had a lot of time to explore when the guards were all diverted to protect the captain.

They went further down the seemingly endless hallway until the hallway widened and they came to a large metal set of double-doors. Procuring a plastic key card from his pocket, Sticks slid it in the card slot, which then proceeded to spark and fizzle before finally dying. The red light up above the doors turned green and they opened.

Once the enormous doors opened up all the way, the mercenaries stepped into the dark room before them. It seemed large enough at first, but once Blades flipped on the lights they discovered it was much bigger. And what was worse, it was filled to the brim with crates. With the amount of time they had left on the mission clock to get the merchandise to the drop point, it looked impossible to get it all out, especially if they had to make several trips.

"Well?" Blades shrugged, pointing to the room "Just what the hell are we supposed to do now?"

Sticks nodded his head and looked around, doing his best to think of something. After a minute, he spoke up.

"Okay. Okay. There's bound to be merchandise of all kinds in this warehouse right? All different cost values, right? Now, the pirates would only be interested in the really expensive stuff, but here's the thing. I'm willing to bet that our man has that same mindset. SO, we comb through the warehouse as quick as possible, get the binary load lifters to load it onto a skiff for us..."

"Ba-da bing." Blades finished.

"Exactly, so I need you on search duty. Look for anything valuable that's out of a crate. I'll look through the records and program the droids, just send me the lot numbers of anything you find." Sticks said, motioning to his earpiece.

"Roger that, bro. We still need to find a skiff, though."

Kurt mused about, listening to the chatter. "Skiff, no problem. Chances are they're probably in the back when not in use. Let's go fetch it, Blades. I can plant charges as we go."

Kurt walked down the stairs and eyed the boxes as he went. Fancy rugs, check. Elaborate weaponry, check. Exotic lingerie, check. He held up a bra made of some type of golden mesh material and chains and smirked at Blades. "Ought to give this to your girl."

He moved on and removed a charge of C4 from his belt, placing it on a nearby pillar. He flipped the activation switch to ON and fell in behind Blades again.

"What the hell are you on, Blades? You've got a wild fucking look in your eyes. Drugs, I assume."

Blades jerked his head back quickly and shook it from side to side to focus himself on taking down all of the lot numbers in his datapad so he could read them off. Realizing that he hadn't told Kurt exactly what he had put in his auto injector, he glanced over at him. He chuckled a little bit first, realizing how wired he must have been getting to view Kurt as a threat waiting to happen. Then he spoke, his voice now kind of ragged from all the screaming he had been doing.

"Yeah, it's a little surprise I whipped up for tight spots." he said "It's boiled down Yarrock in a high concentration. Just a few drops of this is enough to set a normal Zabrak warrior off for an entire campaign. But I've trained my body to withstand taking two blasts of it, 'stead of just one. So I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell my mother back there. He hates it when I take more than one. Says it's dangerous."

Kurt grinned. "Don't worry, he'll never know his baby uses drugs. Just don't overdose someday, got it?"

Kurt secured the next charge to the pillar and activated it. "I'm impressed with your performance back there," he said, turning around. "Not with just the captain, but the guards as well. I've... well, I've never been one to work in a team, but I have to say that if I absolutely had to, you'd be the fucking best when it comes to partners."

As he was talking, he heard noises off to left, the sound of shuffling feet and the sob of what sounded like a child. His smile vanished and he frowned, dropping his hand to his pistol. Making a hand motion to Blades, he told him to move forward and around what would be the center of the room.

Blades acknowledged Kurt and flipped down his mask with a heavy nod, his hands going for his assault rifle. He moved silently, step by step towards the large stack of crates in front of him and crept around it, listening intently. A high-pitched male voice spoke rapidly from behind the stack. It was only one voice, but there were definitely other people behind there as Blades had also heard the child sobbing.

But the language was strange. Unfamiliar. Even among the many languages Blades had come across and made a point of familiarizing with, it was unique. He caught the momentary mention of what he believed to be a woman's voice, but it was quickly shushed by the voice already talking. Taking advantage of the distraction, he got down on his knees and poked his head out ever so slightly at the bottom of the stack where they wouldn't be looking.

He noticed several adult humans standing up or sitting on crates. Two were women, one of them elderly the other about Blades' age he estimated. The third adult was the man who had been talking. He had seemed to have grown quite agitated and his hands moved rapidly helping to convey how frustrated he was. Just in front of him and to the right, in the lap of the elderly woman, sat a boy of about eight years. The woman hugged the boys face to her chest comfortingly but he didn't look sad or nervous so much as he looked tired.

As Blades was taking all this in however, the man's leg moved to the side and exposed another person to view, the little girl Blades presumed had been crying. She wasn't very old, five or six at the most but the problem was that she was now looking in his direction with widened eyes. Blades noticed this too late to hide, the girl tugged at the younger woman's dress and cried out a strange phrase, beginning with the word "Mamae!"

Blades quickly emerged from cover to preserve whatever element of surprise he had left. Just as he got out, he noticed the man was raising a pistol and reacted violently. He dropped his rifle, shoved the pistol aside and punched the man in the face before kicking him in the knee and headbutting him. Blades caught the pistol as the man dropped the pistol and crumpled to the floor, clutching his bloody nose. The little girl rushed to his side and grabbed his arm as Blades prepared to take aim "Non! Mec Dadae!"

Blades froze.

[Revan Jast]

Kurt had his back pressed against the crates, peering around the side carefully, as not to be seen. He moved out a bit more as Blades made his move. He could open fire on them, they were all looking at Blades anyways. But he didn't. He was a killer, yes, and he was sometimes ruthless, yes, but he lived by a code, and he did not harm innocents. And as far as he could tell, they were not a threat in any way. He kept his guard up, just in case.

He coughed and cleared his throat to announce that he was there, then slowly moved around the crates to the front of the group. Some of them bore tattoos on their lower arms or hands, at least the man and the boy did. The women, however, did not. If they did, it wasn't where Kurt could see them.

He glanced over at Blades and the little girl, then back to the others. Just what the hell had they been speaking, anyways?

"Blades, don't quote me on it but I think they're slaves, or they're going to be. Notice the markings? They're heading for the market, I'm sure of it. They seem harmless and I don't think they wanna be here when I blow the shit out of this place... up to you what happens next, but I highly recommend you put that gun down."

His own hand reached for the handle of his knife, his eyes narrowing.

Blades saw that none of the rest of them were armed and quickly field-stripped the pistol before picking up his rifle. His mask was still down and he was sure that he must have looked like a demon or something to the little girl, who was now being comforted by the man who Blades assumed was her father. Or at least what amounted to her father if she really was a slave child, families got split up all the time in that racket.

Blades touched his finger to his earpiece and spoke "Sticks, I'm sending you the lot numbers now so you can go ahead and program some of the lifters, but there's something else. You should get to the middle of the warehouse when you're ready."

After he got the affirmative from his partner, Blades stepped over the man and approached the two women. They certainly seemed appropriately dressed for slaves. Their hair was braided in the same exact style and they wore the same brown house dresses, which appeared to be made of some kind of a rope-like fabric. "What's your names?" he asked them "What are you doing here?" No response.

He turned towards Kurt and said "You know, they would be worth plenty. Especially the two men and the young lady."

Kurt looked at them again and back at Blades and shook his head. "No, Blades. They're innocent people who've been ripped from their everyday lives, forced here against their will. I won't have them being sold for cash. We're both killers, Blades, but I'd think you'd have a higher regard for life than that."

His blue eyes were cold, his face stern, his lips drawn into a tight line. He wasn't screwing around.

---------

It was a sunny day, the kind not even the most resilient recluse could withstand. Kurt had his shades on, dressed in casual attire. His t-shirt was loose-fitting, his jeans somewhat faded. He'd just come from an interview with a high up, low profile corporation called ARGUS. They had heard about his skills with weapons and wanted to hire him on. He'd accepted, not even listening to the extended rules and requirements. He signed his name to the line and he was out the door. Now to get home and tell his girlfriend the news about his new job.

Her name was Jenna, and they'd been dating for a few months. He wasn't sure if he loved her or not yet, but he thought he might. They were staying in a three story apartment complex, where the rent was cheap, the rooms were nice, and love was slowly filling the air. He jogged up to the second floor, bumping into a man in a trenchcoat on the way. Man, that guy was built like a tank. Maybe he was wearing armor underneath? Why hide it? Shrugging, he walked down the hall and unlocked the door to their place.

"Jen? Babe, I'm back."

It was quiet. He was disappointed, wanting to tell her the good news. She must of had something to do today and didn't tell him before he left. He dropped his cardkey next to the cooler and walked into the bathroom to take a leak. On his way back out, he noticed something on the bed.

Walking in, he saw her shape under the covers, the thin sheet covering her naked form. Smiling, he leaned over her and kissed her on the lips. Her mouth was stiff, unyielding... and cold. Frowning, he moved away and her hand fell from it's resting place on her forehead, revealing a small, dark hole. Hands shaking, he lifted her head and saw the exit wound. He backed away suddenly, gasping for air. No, she couldnt-

His comlink buzzed, and he activated it. It was the man who hired him. He said he was sorry about what happened, sorry for his loss, said he knew who had done it and that he could help Kurt find him if he wanted.

Kurt, tears running down his face, said yes. From that day onward, he refused to get close to anyone, knowing all too well the fragile state of a persons life.

He went to her funeral, and there he cried his last tears. After that he dedicated himself solely to his work.

Work? No... it was his life.

--------

Behind his mask, the mercenary's mind went ablaze with rage. How could Kurt be so hypocritical? He had probably sold dozens or hundreds of people into slavery or helped in some way. Yes, yes he could see it now. Kurt had to be taken out of the game or Blades would show his vulnerability and therefore his ability to be killed.

Without a word, Blades simply shrugged and leaned up against the boxes so that his pistol was out of view and he was facing Kurt. Slowly, his hand wandered down to the hidden pistol and little by little he began to lift it out as silently and stealthily as possible. His heart was pounding with anticipation and anxiety as Blades watched in paranoia for Kurt to make some kind of move.

He had just gotten the pistol out when he heard footsteps accompanied by a voice from behind. Sticks patted him on the back as he walked by. "So, what is it you wanted to show me, Blades?" he asked him. Blades used the distraction to his advantage to get his pistol the rest of the way out, but casually used it to point to the slaves.

"It looks like we have a family." Blades said pointing at them all "A family of slaves. You know what our contact said about enemy property, and it don't get no more valuable than this." He looked and pointed somewhat accusingly at Kurt and said "Kurt here don't want to let us confiscate them."

Sticks flipped up his mask, a confused look on his face. He motioned for Kurt to explain.

"Listen here, Twigs. These people have been ripped from their homes and brought here to be sent out into a horrible life. I'm a killer, a murderer, yes. But I am not a heartless son of a bitch like your fucking drug filled friend here."

Kurt moved closer, the two nearly touching noses. "You don't strike me as a cold man. In fact, I think it's all the more likely you're the one who keeps your team in line. Time to show that, pal. Straighten him out and make him see beyond his own greedy fucking reasons."

Kurt stepped back and walked away a few feet, then turned back towards them. "Blades, put the gun down. The only thing that's gonna be going off in here is our mouths, so holster that weapon. Now!"

[RobbyL9]

Sticks looked at Kurt sternly. He didn't enjoy having people mock his name, it was just so much easier to do than Blades and none of the people who ever did were smart enough to fully appreciate the meaning of his nickname. Nevertheless, Sticks agreed wholeheartedly with Kurt. He hadn't become a mercenary to help perpetuate slavery and he couldn't believe that Blades ever would. Sticks looked over at his partner and said as seriously as he could "He's right Blades, stow that pistol and stand down. We confiscate inanimate property only."

Blades couldn't believe his ears. How could his own friend betray him like this after all they had been through? Didn't Sticks say he swore an oath to stick by his brother-in-arms to the end? That he would never abandon him or leave him hanging? Blades' veins rushed rapidly and burned as though filled with toxic amounts of acid. This was betrayal, high treason!

Blades tightened his grip around the pistol in his hand in anger. He was so mad and squeezing so hard that his hand visibly shook from the pressure. He growled under his breath as he looked at the family of slaves and saw only what was being denied him. "Very well." he growled in a whisper, finishing silently If I can't have them, then you won't.

His hand kept tensing around the pistol as he refused to stow it. Catching a small glimpse of his partner's eyes from behind the mask, Sticks' jaw dropped slowly. He suddenly became concerned, his hand ever-so-gently motioning toward his machine pistol. "Partner?" he asked "You... Feeling okay? Lift up your mask."

When he got no response, only silence and inaction, Sticks tried to lift up Blades' mask only to have his hand violently slapped away accompanied by an animalistic growl. Sticks recoiled and jerked his head over to where Kurt was standing "You said he took his drugs, right? I assume you're not talking about his Kolto. How many doses did he take, one or two?"

Blades began to breath heavily, his thoughts becoming homicidal again. In the middle of the three mercs, the slave family remained silent but appeared increasingly terrified. The little girl spoke up again, looking to her mother and saying "Mamae, caes si emn gamen?" The woman just shook her head and shushed her daughter, trembling inside.

Kurt backed away slowly, his hand on his knife. "Let's just say it's enough that you'd be pissed. It's more than the amount he ought to be taking."

His cold blue eyes watching Blades carefully. Any sense of feeling left him; it was only him and the darkness of the killer within.

One wrong move, my friend...

Kurt waited.

Sticks was furious, but he just couldn't show it lest this scene turn dangerous. Blades listened to his two betrayers audaciously talk lies and nonsense about him. He felt his heart pumping faster and faster, just like the initial rush he experienced when he first took the drugs, except this time it wouldn't stop. It just kept getting faster and faster and wouldn't slow down. All he could think about was how much he wanted to murder everything in sight. All the possibilities of how to do it rushed through his mind and engulfed his senses. Blades tasted blood upon his lips and felt it drip from his chin.

Blades seemed distracted, as though he was cut off from the outside world by his thoughts. Sticks moved slowly to try and get a hold of the pistol to break it or disarm it or do whatever he could to keep Blades from using it in his state. He moved slowly, approaching his fellow merc from just behind his back, a little bit at a time. He had motioned as best he could to Kurt to hold still and let him try to deal with it. He hoped he had been understood.

Sticks got within reaching range of the pistol which still clenched tightly in his unresponsive friend's hand. If he could just reach in there and tap the safety, he could neutralize Blades without having to fire a shot and that would give him a chance at least. He reached in slowly, when suddenly Blades spun around violently and whipped him across the face with the pistol grip.

Sticks recovered in time to have Blades take him by the throat and begin to squeeze. He was slammed up against the side of the crates so hard that his own pistol fell out. Sticks gripped his partner's pistol hand to keep it from raising. Out of desperation, Sticks then took his other hand and slapped the underside of Blades' mask, raising it and revealing the horror underneath.

Suddenly and violently being thrown against the opposite crate and toppling to the ground next to the little girl, the image of Blades filled his mind. His partner's bloodshot red eyes burned with rage and his tear ducts bled profusely down his face, collecting at his chin and dripping to the floor.

Blades stood above his best friend, his gun now pointed between Sticks and the little girl who had resumed crying. As if by the force of someone other than himself, Blades could feel his hand almost trying to... Decide?

Blades felt his stomach tighten, but his hand remained pointed at the floor. "Why?" he asked everyone around him "Why do you all want to kill me?"

Sticks raised his hands and spoke quickly, trying with everything he had to talk his insane friend down "Blades, buddy, for the love of gods nobody wants to hurt you. Will you please just take your finger off that trigger?"

Blades suddenly noticed Kurt with his hand on his knife and jumped away. "You! Stay away from me! Stay away from me!"

Blades was now standing so that all of his conspirators stood in his field of view. So now he could see everything. It was all so clear and easy, all he had to do was pull the trigger seven times.

The voice of Sticks drew his eyes back to the ground. Blades only then realized that his pistol was pointed at the little girl's head.

"Blades. Buddy. What are you doin'? Can you see yourself right now?" Sticks' voice said in a fog "Look at this. You're pointing your gun at your partner for gods sakes. This is a family of people. Real people. About to become slaves and for what? So some rich person off somewhere in left field can profiteer from their suffering? Don't you remember all those times you talked about those kinds of people?"

Blades thought back, his arm going stiff and remaining perpetually pointed at the little girl. His memories returned to one day a few months after he became a mercenary with Sticks. They had been assigned to guard an assortment of ships coming in from the outer rim, a general contract by the Republic Senate to protect ships coming in from pirates.

Blades remembered that one of the ships they were protecting was filled with lots of passengers. But the life signals were all jammed together tightly. He and Sticks found out almost immediately and took matters into their own hands, shooting out the engines and neutralizing the reactor. The two mercs boarded and beat the living sense out of those pirates when they saw the slaves in the cages. Naked, bound in awkward ways, some of them too young to talk. Blades swore after seeing that that he would never EVER let money get in the way of who he was.

Back in the present, Sticks continued "Blades, don't you remember why you and I became mercenaries in the first place?"

Blades replied in a strained voice "Because we wanted to make a... A real difference?"

"That's right. We didn't care what anybody thought. We were determined to make things right and do the galaxy some good. But what are you doing now? Where's that all gone?"

Blades' high seemed to offer just enough of an opening for him to pause and examine where the end of his pistol was pointed.

"You're about to shoot this poor little kid. Look at her, Blades, and ask yourself... What would your sister say?"

Blades' expression changed. His eyes looked thoughtful again as he continued to go back in time. As he did this his hand moved towards his side again, just a hair at a time.

As he struggled to latch onto the clouded memories in his head, he heard Sticks say to Kurt "Tell him man. What would his sister say? She looked just like this little girl, didn't she?" Sticks mouthed the words 'Play along.'

[Revan Jast]

Kurt listened to the exchange between the two, his eyes darting back and forth as they spoke. He listened to Blades respond to Sticks question. Because they wanted to make a difference. Yes... hadn't that been why he joined as well? To make a difference... to help the helpless, the poor, the defenseless? Those who could not or were afraid to stand up for themselves?

"Tell him man. What would his sister say? She looked just like this little girl, didn't she," he heard Sticks say.

No, it had not been why he had become what he was today. When he started, he was reckless and temperamental, rash and bold. He only wanted to make-

------------

-the fuckers pay for what they did to her," he said angrily, throwing a glass cup across the room. It contained some sort of alcoholic beverage, a dark liquid that splashed the wall and floor as the cup shattered into a thousand tiny crystals. He was raging, his teeth bared in a feral grin, his eyes burning with blue fire. He finally sat down in the armchair and gripped the wooden rests with his hands, holding them so tightly his knuckles were white.

The man in the dark suit sat across from him, behind a large desk. It looked big and imposing, but Kurt didn't think it'd protect him if Kurt wanted to jump right across it and throttle the fucker. He was so pissed he'd kill anyone right this minute. Regardless of all this and Kurt's thoughts, the man over there seemed to not be disturbed at all. After a moment, he spoke.

"Kurt, I'm going to make this short. I know why you're here and what you're after, and I'll help you get it. We've tracked the killer down to a place about half an hour away from your own apartment. We'll get you the stuff you need and the directions to his place, and you can go there and do whatever it takes to get your revenge."

The man motioned to the guard by the only door into the room, who nodded and opened it. Another guard brought in two somewhat large suitcases and a backpack and left them by the door.

"That's it?" Kurt asked, standing.

"That's all you'll ever need," the man said, folding his hands on his desk.

Kurt shrugged and shouldered the backpack, leaning down to pick up the suitcases. Neither was extremely heavy, and they didn't have anything in the way of markings. He asked why.

"Just in case... you get caught," the suited man replied. "Nothing to link back to us, you know?"

Kurt nodded. He wasn't planning on getting caught.

"A warning before you go, Jervada... he's dangerous. He has skills. Just so you know."

Kurt smiled, but it wasn't a happy one. "I'm dangerous too."

----

He'd just reached his apartment when the person approached him. He dropped the cases and raised his fist to strike as he turned around. The robed figure gasped in surprise and pulled away, raising it's hands in defense. "No, Kurt! It's me!"

"Malika?" he asked, bewildered. The robed figure nodded and lowered it's hood to show a woman with long flowing brown hair and blue eyes to match a strikingly beautiful face, only marred by a long scar that ran down her left cheek. He knew that scar. Their father had done that when he was drunk.

"Hello brother," she said quietly.

"Likewise, my sister," he replied. After a moment they went inside.

-----

It didn't take long for them to catch up on old times. She was married now, to an official in the Empire's higher ranks.

"No wedding invitation?" Kurt said, half joking.

"I didn't know where you were, Kurt," she replied, tears welling up in her eyes. "I didn't know if you were off-world or... or..."

"Dead," Kurt said, his small bit of humor leaving. There was silence for a few moments.

"That's why I'm here though... I heard about what happened to your girl, and through a few contacts I got your address. I'm so sorry, Kurt."

She moved the blankets on the couch aside and sat next to him, putting an arm around him.

"Sorry about those," he said. "I can't... sleep in there after... all I smell is her and death." That was enough for him. He rested his head on her shoulder and cried as she held him.

After a few minutes of that, he stood and wiped his eyes. "But I'll get her killer."

"Kurt..."

"Don't 'Kurt' me!" he said, snapping at her. "He took my love away... my life... and he'll pay. He will PAY!"

Kurt opened the first suitcase and pulled out the clothes and armor, laying them on the chair next to him. He quickly disrobed to his skivvies, not minding her. He threw on the camo pants and shirt, pulling on his boots and lacing them and tying them.

"Listen, Kurt... you're not thinking straight. You can't just be reckless about this."

"What if it was your husband? You'd be doing the same thing."

Gloves on. Armor on. Kneepads, shoulder pads, vest.

"Yes, I would be angry and hurt. It's natural to want revenge, Kurt... but please, listen to me. The way you're going now, you're going to hurt anyone and anything just to get this guy," she said, now standing as well. Her face was stern, showing that she meant business.

He opened the backpack and pulled out the pistol clips and ammo magazines, distributing them accordingly. "Fuck em," he said, not really caring.

"That's not what you said about me," she said, and he stopped. Slowly turning around, he looked her in the eye. She continued: "That's not what you said when I needed you, Kurt. You helped me... because you cared. You killed the man that called himself our father and you didn't hurt anyone else while doing it. Get your revenge, Kurt, if you must... but don't hurt the innocent while you do it. Show respect for the little people... the ones who are tossed about by life's storms and burdened so much by the choices of others. Show some respect, please."

Kurt only lowered his head. She was right... he was being careless and only thinking about himself. He stepped forward and embraced her.

"I'm sorry for being selfish... I promise you no one else besides him will get hurt."

She nodded and kissed his cheek, then stepped away. "Go on, Kurt. I think you have things to take care of."

He put on his helmet and goggles, then opened the second of the two suitcases. Inside lay a knife. He took it out and grabbed his pistol from the hidden cache in the wall, holstering both weapons. Why had the case been heavier than that, though? Frowning, he lifted the bottom of the case out to reveal an assault rifle, the likes of one which had no been seen in hundreds of years, if not more. Those old weapons had used bullets... just like his pistol did. Interesting.

He slung the rifle onto his back and looked at Malika again. "It's going to be a while, isn't it?"

She nodded. "Since you're with this ARGUS company now... I think this man you're after wont be the only unusual death I'll be hearing about."

Kurt nodded. He embraced her one more time and walked out the door. Taking a deep breath, he walked down the hall and into his destiny.

--------

He saw Sticks mouth to play along... but he didn't need to, He knew exactly what Blades' sister would tell him... and he knew what his own would say.

Kurt looked at Blades. "What would she say, Blades? She would tell you to look out for the little people. They have a hard enough time living their own lives. Don't try and live it for them... and never let your own emotions and plans overpower you to the point that you don't care about anyone but yourself."

He shook his head sadly. "She would be so disappointed, Blades, if she could see you now, with your gun pointed at an innocent child. Fight your inner demons, Blades. Fight yourself. You can do it, Blades... you can win this battle. I know I did."

Sticks got to his feet slowly while Kurt was talking. As much as his brain warned him not to believe it, Blades ignored that and fought with himself for control of his body again. Unable to flush the thoughts from his head, he began to claw and hit himself on the head. Blades continued to do that until his head hurt and even bled in from small scratches. He felt his stomach tighten more, making him feel kind of sick. Sick with guilt and regret, more than anything else, it seemed. By the time he was done listening and looking around at all the people he had almost hurt, Blades couldn't believe he had been so obtuse. He felt his arms go limp at last and hang at his sides.

He wanted to say something to acknowledge his best friend, even if it was just the simplest thing, to say how sorry he was. To apologize for straying so far from their original goal, to express his feelings over almost killing an innocent girl or attempting to enslave an innocent family. But no words came, just soft stammering which quickly lowered to a whimpering cry. Blades didn't even know if he could adequately express his sorrow at the moment. And if he could, he didn't feel he deserved to even speak the words he needed to beg for forgiveness.

His fingers slackened and he felt his pistol slip from his hand, finally relieving the pressure and letting the blood drain back into his hands. He could feel more hot liquid pouring from his eyes, but could tell that it wasn't more blood. Blades felt the salt in his tears stinging his wounded eyes as he fell to his knees and forward onto his hands, suddenly feeling incredibly sick. Either from the shock or his body reacting to the over-dosage of Yarrock, Blades retched violently forward and vomited on the warehouse floor. He was sweating profusely and felt very light-headed.

Sticks immediately rushed to his buddy's side when he finally saw him pass out and collapse forward onto the edge of the bright green puddle, staining his cheek. Reaching under Blades' chest, he turned him over onto his back. The last thing Blades was able to recall before blacking out was the mouth of his blood brother, which spoke most comforting words he had heard since he left his home world "You're okay. I got you. Hold on..."

When his friend's eyes closed. Sticks looked up. "Shit. We have to get out of here. Get him and them onto a skiff and I'll have the lifters just take what we got." he cried out to Kurt, starting toward the droid controls "If the second team doesn't get here in time then it's their own damn fault!"

Kurt nodded and jogged for the skiffs, activating it and bringing it over the family.

"Get on," he said, but they didn't understand. Sighing, he picked up the little girl and sat her on it, then motioned to the skiff so they'd get the idea. That moved them.

While they got on, Kurt turned around and knelt by his partner (that was indeed what he was now, unusual or not), grabbing him by the back of his armor and dragging him up onto the skiff. "Damn, man, join WeightWatchers when you get outta here," Kurt muttered. He let go of Blades and hopped down to the ground. "Get a move on, Sticks! I'm setting the explosives now!"

Kurt went around the merchandise and stolen goods, setting the last few of his charges. Not a lot just by looking at it, but there was enough explosives packed into one of these to level a small store, let alone a base like this.

Once he was done, he waited by the skiff for Sticks.