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Black Hearts

- - - - - Connor Harrison Tmoxin Temi

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#41
Connor Harrison

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The voices bled into one. The faces bled into one.

”…another failed empire or some boring Sith club thank you…”

Voices inside his head and outside, the buzzing of machinery and hiss of burning muscle. And then, for a split second, the pain stopped and every nerve in Connor's body tingled in gentle pleasure. Then, they erupted into full body paralysis.

All muscles tensed at once, forcing his body up from the chair against the restraints and rigid, shaking only with the jolts of electricity coursing through his body. He couldn't scream, or plead for it to stop, he just knew it was over. The blue lights above their heads burst into a shower of sparks and glass that rained down on the Sith, as the others turned away from the disorientating flashes of light and surges of power.

And just like that, within seconds, it was over. The needles retracted and the shackles clicked open as the restraint lifted.

Surging forward out of the chair, Connor's convulsing body, steaming and blood streaked, fell forward and slouched to one knee and dragged himself forward towards the figure of Tmoxin.

"Tave jen'valia...derrinos tave irus..."**

The Sith language fell off his tongue as easy as Basic. Then, just as quickly as he was out, he fell forward face-first onto the cold floor.

Silence deafened the room. Steam rose from the chair and the figures around the chair and monitors looked to the body, and then to the Commander.

**"The Dark will...devour the Light..."

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#42
Tmoxin Temi

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As Connor Harrison surfaced from unconsciousness, the immediate sensations around him would be starkly different from Maena. Tmoxin was not a purveyor of pain like so many Sith. She did not revel in agony and preferred self-medication to deal with both physical and emotional distress. Perhaps she’d done Harrison a favor he would likely not appreciate - she'd pumped him so full of opioids drugs so that when he woke he would not be in any pain and might actually feel a surge of ecstasy and power versus fatigue and anesthesia-induced sluggishness.
 
She’d also glimpsed fragments of his time with Matsu Xiangu as he recovered from his burn wounds, so Tmoxin made it a point to have Harrison’s room as a study in contrast. Large, comfortable and private. Only the occasional Kaminoan nurse would wordlessly enter and leave, the long gown making a swishing noise, one might even call pleasant. 
 
The only pain he would feel was a dull ache upon his cheekbone where his face hit the floor as he surged out of the chair during the end of the procedure.
 
Tmoxin was sitting in a chair by the window which overlooked yet another rainstorm. Her skirt-clad legs were crossed and a datapad was on her lap, a glimpse of the screen showed not battleplans or blue prints but online shopping. She could have been a normal human sitting there, some executive’s pretty wife maybe. Or a nurse-in-training keeping an eye on a high profile patient. 
 
But the Hapan Jedi had attempted to erase selective memories of a powerful man’s past and in a few minutes she would find out if the memory wipe was successful. She could have easily executed him and taken his remains to wherever in the galaxy he had his detractors. But no, the redhead with the innocently freckled face was not a killer. She much preferred being the maestro in her own orchestra of annihilation. And Connor Harrison the newest and rarest instrument she was about to unveil. 
 
And I can't bloody wait to hear what it sounds like.
 

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#43
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With a flutter of the eyelids, slowly rising, the amber eyes of the man opened.

He was either dead, and in heaven, or in some hospital war. It was mostly the latter.

There was a quiet calm to the room, and only a dull ache in the side of his head. He was tired, not too uncomfortable, and a bit hazy....and sore. Force, he was sore. His body felt stiff as a board. When he tried to move, the muscles seemed to turn to stone, so he lay still.

A soft tap-tap-tap could be heard, and it took a moment to regain his clear sight. A woman was sat near him, with a data-pad and long legs. A welcome sight and an...un-expected one?

He lay in silence, and couldn't for the life of him remember where he was, but he knew he was safe. He couldn't remember why he was here, but he knew it was important. He didn't know where he had come from, but he knew it was far away.

The throat muscles were tight.

The head was pounding.

The memories were all over the place.

"He..."

It hurt to talk. It was either "help" or "hello" or "hey"...whatever it was, it was a scratchy signal that the man was awake. Who was the woman?

Beside his still body, the black cybernetic arm was still.

Where was he?

Who was he?

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#44
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Confusion was normal and would wear off with time. With so many memories removed and new ones to create, his brain would absorb the world with a heightened sense of awareness and a kind of hyper-realism, as some prior subjects reported. Harrison’s golden eyes traveled Tmoxin’s body, resting a beat too long upon her bare legs, and she took it as a good sign. He was raw and vulnerable right now, unlike the sterile creature she’d met before this reinvention.
 
Passion in everything would serve him well. While she loathed the Sith code on some level, the Hapan did believe in strength through passion. Uncontrolled, unbridled lust, while fun at times, was less useful in chasing power and eliminating your enemies. But controlled, precise and intense zealotry to your cause? Especially if that cause was your own self and your own wants and needs?
 
Now that is something I can support.
 
Tmoxin rose as Harrison attempted to communicate. “Don’t try to speak too soon.” She picked up a plastic cup of water, approached the side of the large bed and presented it to him, unsure if he was strong enough to grasp it.
 
“You’re on Kamino, and the memory wipe went as well as we could have hoped. Once you’re up to it, we can validate the success of the procedure. But there’s no rush. Now is the time for rest.”
 
One hand touched the bedspread just an inch away from his thigh, her fingers worrying the white fabric as she spoke. The redhead's perfume was made from velanie flowers though she wasn't sure if the particular olfactory memory of floral scents had been removed, though he would certainly detect it anew.
 

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#45
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Noting he was propped up, he brought his good hand to his face and felt it, fingers poking the cheek and jaw. There was a numbness there, a tingling sensation, and a slight burning of the muscle. It didn't hurt. As the woman with the legs came over with a drink, Connor took it in his hand, and the plastic cup dented a little at the force of his grip - over compensating for little feeling.

He took a sip or two, but even that required effort. His muscles were so heavy.

Kamino? The former Imperial facility? Where they made clones. Rained a lot. He was here for a memory check, or something. The man held the cup on his chest and sighed.

"Thank you," he mumbled.

His head pounded. He looked at the woman again beside him.

"Tmoxin. The...Commander and Force user. Thank you. You did it...I think..."

Whatever it is he needed to have done. He couldn't remember. The amber eyes closed again and he sighed. The rain could just be heard outside.

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#46
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Tmoxin leaned back and then hopped up on the window sill, crossing her legs again. She wore very high heels - he might remember that fact about her if he tried hard enough - and her toenails were lacquered with a shiny black polish. A short skirt and crisp, white top completed the sophisticated ensemble.
 
Behind her out of the window, the wind picked up and a powerful storm appeared to be moving in, the black clouds gathering, a bolt of lightning shooting down upon the water. Yet even if a hurricane swept through, the building had been designed and built to withstand it, its dome-like shape completely fortified and accustomed to the buffering and torrential rain. 
 
They could sit together on the bed and toast an apocalyptic storm with champagne if they wanted to, safe in the thought that absolutely nothing would happen to them as long as they remained inside a Kamonian built durasteel structure.
 
“Good, you recalled my name and occupation. Now what else do you remember?” 
 
The rain drummed incessantly upon the window now, so much that Tmoxin twisted at the waist and closed the blinds.
 
"Who was your last apprentice when you were a Jedi?"
 

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#47
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At the flash of lightning, his head snapped to the window and his eyes set ablaze, as if it shot right through him. His muscles felt like rock. The thunder followed, and he exhaled through his nose, watching out into the black sky as Tmoxin closed the blinds.

He watched her as the rain was shut out, but he heard it tapping on the window. The black arm moved slightly at her question, and he lay back, looking up, thinking. The Jedi was a life-time ago, but an apprentice....

"I don't know."

A short, honest answer. When he thought, there was nothing but a black hole. A gaping void. Nothing and nobody. He looked to her, and a smile tugged at the corner of his lip.

"Ask me another."

He tensed and raised the cup, and sipped a little more.

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#48
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Tmoxin detected a noticeable change in Harrison at the lightning flash. She made a mental note to speak with the head surgeon later. If there was a chance of PTSD from the procedure, the Hapan wanted to offer a treatment for that at least. 
 
At his smile, she returned one of her own.
 
Uncrossing her legs and shifting her knees to the side, as demure and lady-like as ever for a sociopathic Dark Jedi, she asked, “Do you recall meeting me? Specifically before a couple of days ago when you landed on Lok, quite aggressively I should add?”
 
A rumble of thunder underscored the question, and Tmoxin’s grin lingered, one of approval and interest in her newest acquisition. If he’d allow her, she planned to keep him close, not necessarily in proximity - though she admitted now to herself that she did enjoy his company - but to feed her information about the Sith or even the First Order. And perhaps he would be up to the task of helping her to eliminate her pesky Kyrel Ren problem.
 

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#49
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Sucking his his bottom lip, he looked at Tmoxin and slowly nodded.

"I remember Lok. The planet with the...with the sports complex? And you offered to help me."

With a wince, he sat up, tutting in frustration at how tense he felt still. The plastic cup was set down on the side table, which felt like a rock in his hand and just as heavy.

"Here for memory siphoning. Cutting out the dead flesh." When he was sat, he relaxed. "I know where we are, and I remember where we were. And you. But, I can't remember much about...me, it feels hazy."

He couldn't help another look up and down at the Commander. That's it! The Commander of the Blood Monarchs. Commander of Imperial forces? Tmoxin Temi. Lots of power.

"How did the process go? Are there any long-lasting effects? And, did it all work?"

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#50
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The results were promising. He did not remember meeting her prior to this latest encounter. While Tmoxin may have hoped his full impression of her could survive the memory wipe, she would trade her bruised ego for the miraculous results that science could yield.
 
“The bulk of your memories will return, and your muscle memory was not damaged. Instead of telling you, I should just show you.”
 
The Hapan gently lowered herself down from the window sill and retrieved her datapad from a small black bag. She returned to Harrison’s bedside and sat down on the edge, near to the cold, metallic arm. Tapping until she found what she wanted, Tmoxin held up the screen for him, unsure that he would be able to grasp it.
 
“Here are the specific memories you wanted us to erase. While there is a small chance - I believe it’s less than ten percent - that those specific neural pathways will reconnect, most of our subjects reported permanent memory loss.” She glanced at his blue eyes with her brown ones.
 
With her index and middle finger, she tapped the side of his temple, but very gently, knowing he was still sensitive from the procedure. “I’m tempted to monitor that brain of yours for awhile, but I think we’ve disturbed enough inside of your head for awhile.” The nails on her fingertips were painted the same shade of shiny, liquorice black.
 

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#51
Connor Harrison

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Ever the patient, he nodded again. He waited patiently for her to return with the datapad, looking at it as she sat beside him, brought up the information he needed to see and held it with him.

As she touched his head, it felt cold, and the skin ripped down his spin with a tingle as if still sensitive. But, he could tell she was teasing, and he chuckled.

"I imagine it was a gundark's nest in there looking at this."

His eyes went to the datapad and looked at memories, made up of nothing but names and places and incidents. Names that didn't mean anything. Names he KNEW about, but didn't matter to him personally. Places he wouldn't be able to return to. Corvus Raaf of Tatooine? No idea. The Dark Heart on Voss? Never going to find it. Others just as forgetful.

With a satisfied sigh, he set the pad down and looked ahead, feeling a little free. If nothing was painful in reading, then nothing hopefully would cause pain later. He could make up his own mind and forge his own relationships and understandings with these people, good or bad.

"Thank you, Tmoxin." He raised his head slightly, looking at her. "I can see how attractive you are finally. I never noticed it before."

He tensed and moved his cybernetic hand to rest on hers, evidently straining a little.

"Why is moving so hard? My muscles feel like steel. I don't...get it."

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#52
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“Oh sorry, cold hands,” Tmoxin said with a compassionate laugh. She withdrew her hand and rubbed both of them together to warm them up. They did keep the Morpho building at a chilly 18 °C, but at the same time, she enjoyed, not necessarily the rain, but the stark difference of Kamino to Lok, through her favorite place in the entire galaxy was on Bothawui.
 
“You had enough memories to last a couple of human lifespans, that’s for sure. I bet it does feel less crowded… less conflicting.”
 
The corner of her lip rose in a smile at Harrison’s flattery. She grasped the cybernetic hand back, content in the knowledge that at least a synthetic hand could not feel her cold fingers or even a sweaty palm. Though if she closed her eyes, it would feel as though she were holding hands with one of her Mirari Droids.
 
The flattery was satisfying on multiple levels. Obviously and on a visceral level, the redhead responded to the admiration, but more importantly, she felt that Harrison had originally come to her bereft of something... something she hadn't been able to put her finger on, but now she realized that he’d emerged from the memory wipe, more human-seeming than ever. Which was so gratifying to the Hapan as Tmoxin was not in the business of making monsters. Soldiers, Dark Jedi, killing machines, yes. 
 
Though she might have created a few inadvertently. And most of the time, those particular abominations came back to exact revenge on their creator.
 
“I think you just need to rest,” she said as she leaned over and caressed his forehead. “I know just the place if you don’t mind recovering in one of the most beautiful locations in the Southern Systems. If not, there is plenty of physical therapy here if you need it. Or on Lok, where we literally rebuild swoop bikers after their crashes, and they are practically back out on the racetrack the next day.”
 
He would have his pick of training facilities, spas and Elysium-like retreats for recovery.
 

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#53
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While the Commander talked, he looked at her hand on his black robotic one. There was no sensation. Cold. His eyes narrowed as he fingers flexed. He knew what he had to do.

"Take me away to recover. To find myself."

His voice was fixed with determination and resolve.

The truth of it was, he didn't even know who he classed himself as. He wasn't that Jedi anymore, and something inside him was urging a new warrior to emerge, to finally become that...that....being. Going away may help become that.

"I remember words of a Sorceress. A Dark Side priestess almost. Matsu Xiangu. She helped me at the start, I remember. She told me things. To not become some failed Empire or Sith club. Is that what I have become? Am I serving blind leaders like the Jedi do?"

He shook his head.

"She was right. I know just where I serve and whom I serve. And nobody - nobody - will tell me otherwise anymore."

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#54
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“To the ranch it is,” she responded. Her head canted to the side in appreciation at Harrison’s words. Tucking a lock of chin-length, copper-red hair behind her ear, Tmoxin listened and then spoke again:
 
“‘The power of the dark side is an illness no true Sith would wish to be cured of.’ I believe it was Darth Plaguesis who said that. But it only shows you how misguided their philosophy is. The dark side is not illness at all. It’s an advantage, nothing more and nothing less. It is much more powerful than the light side of the Force and a weapon to be harnessed, not a cult to join. You are wise to serve only yourself."
 
One of these days she would tell Connor about the Ni'Korish of Hapes and how it had prevented her from realizing her true destiny for many years. But there would be time for trading stories of the past on the Seven Moons Ranch. And in Harrison’s case, making new memories.
 
After she left the patient to recuperate in the comfortable Morpho room, Tmoxin made arrangements for her special guest to be carefully transported via the Sovereign Stingray to Drev'starn, Bothawui to her keffi ranch. He would be setup in one of the guest rooms on the second floor - in fact he’d have it all to himself as the Hapan resided on the level above.
 
Connor would awake that morning in a room that overlooked not just the foothills, but a wide lake called Brishon. The quarters had a terrace flanked with stone, lounge chairs strategically placed to take in one of the best views from the riding school.
 

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#55
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Eyes once again slowly opened, and a breeze greeted him. A cool breeze, lashing shores and nothing else. He sat up, wrapping the soft ivory sheet around his body and looked ahead out of the patio window. A red moon could be seen in the far distance in the perfect blue sky, with small green and brown mountains reaching up for it. There was a large stretch of water, rather still from where he was, but the waves crashing on the shore of where they were meant this was a lake-side building.

Flexing his fingers, stretching his arms, craning his head, the stiffness was gone. A dull ache remained, but he could move with ease again. He shuffled across and slipped out of the bed onto the floor, bare feet walking from the fluffy rug to the warm floor leading the open patio door.

Looking back, his clothing was folded up on the lounge chair facing him, and his lightsaber hilt and wrist blade neatly atop.

The view was stunning. It reminded him of another place. Bakura? Dosuun? Yes, he had been to those distant worlds and he had seen views like this. All wonderful and surrounding him with the nature of the Force. It blew over him and caressed his body as he stood in just his briefs on the stone patio.

The contrast of the black cybernetic arm fixed to his light skin was apparent now with no clothing on to hide it, and so to were the wounds, stitching, skin-grafts and other nasty looking stamps of his journey from Jedi to Ren to Sith to…this.

One pure in serving to the Dark Side. Above and beyond a title, but so much more than just a name he couldn’t remember….the Jedi had been another lifetime. And even then with his guard down, no memories or emotion bled in.

Breathe. Just breathe.

The healing process had begun.

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#56
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That cloudless morning Tmoxin had been out training Zeppelin early, focusing on honing his rhythm and tempo, and still clad in her boots and riding bodyglove, she took the lift up to Harrison’s level to check in on the patient. She’d left him alone for the most part, to heal from the painful procedure and to also begin to piece together the memories that remained. The Hapan did not want to influence him too much at first, though in time, she hoped they would form some kind of symbiotic relationship. And it would be quite enthralling to see what shape or form that took.
 
She knocked briefly and then opened the door slowly at first to make sure Harrison was awake and decent. Used to half-dressed soldiers and military personnel, she walked in, unbothered by his nearly nude form, removing her white gloves and laying them upon the bed.
 
Her expression betrayed a mixture of admiration for the human musculature and a slight bit of distaste for the cybernetic arm. As Harrison told himself to breath, the Hapan warned herself to not be so rigid with the imperfections before her. She did believe that all good warriors had battle scars after all, and there would be a time in the redhead near-human’s life when her own would be unavoidable, when disfigurement may win out over vanity especially when the galaxy was in constant turmoil.
 
Hip against the doorframe, Tmoxin said, “Good morning. You’re moving around much better, I see. This view... " She walked gingerly out onto the patio and curled with feline grace into large, comfortable outdoor chair. “It’s magnificent. I am sure I’ve said it too much in your presence but this is absolutely my favorite place in the galaxy.”
 
Yes, she was a Commander and a Dark Jedi Master, but in this moment, the Hapan seemed more feminine and vulnerable, at ease, relaxed and accessible. 
 
“How are you feeling?”
 

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#57
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He was so focused on breathing, centering himself and listening to the world around him that he failed to see, feel or hear Tmoxin arrive in her...less than Commander-esque attire. She was a rider too?

"I can see why, Commander Temi."

With a small smile, very much aware of his current physical state, he didn't look to her sat on the lounge chair beside him. He finally opened his eyes and moved his hands forward to the thin rail above the stone wall and gripped it slightly, stretching and turning to loosen his achy body.

"I've seen places like this before. I find them very relaxing and makes you see just how peaceful the galaxy really is away from the stagnation of war and what the Jedi do in their wake. They are nothing but planet killers."

He stood back, and half turned to her in the chair.

"Feeling good, thank you. Achy, a little hazy, but good. Somewhat eager to go and make my future, somewhat apprehensive in knowing where to start, who to see and where to go. How can be sure all traces of him are gone? What if I can't esape the shadow of the Jedi?"

A flicker of doubt crossed his mind, and his face could be read as one of concern.

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#58
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Commander Temi. How she missed that title so much it manifested itself in a physical ache right in the pit of her stomach which she swallowed back down with a grimace.
 
And with that longing, her irises darkened a little, becoming a deep, charred brown despite the high sun. 
 
“You are no more Jedi than I am a Rodian. Those memories are gone. That past is gone.”
 
Her voice took on a less relaxed tone. “One individual remains in there. I promised you I would keep her safe, despite my better judgement.” Did she enjoy recreating this man from scratch? In a way it felt like the ultimate reach of authority, and the fact that Coci Heavenshield remained caused Tmoxin this strange, envious itch she felt powerless to scratch. 
 
“Try it Harrison. Go on. Delve inside and just see who is left,” she dared in a low growl, the darkside of the Force causing her words to become thick and determined, her Hapan accent even more pronounced.
 
“And then I have a proposition for you.” 
 
She shifted in the chair and stretched her ivory-clad legs out in front of her, her gaze off in the distance now fixed on a snow-capped mountain with thin clouds lightly kissing its jagged peak.
 

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#59
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The edge to her voice tipped a little, and he heard something dangerous to her tone. Something appealing. And there was a face in there un-touched? She had done good to follow his wishes. Tmoxin was feeding from his discovery and awakening, and so he nodded once to her and looked back out and delved inside his mind to find that person.

It wasn't long before the dots connected. A piercing bolt seemed to fuse his collective thoughts together, and he gasped while they formed in his mind's eye. As if breaking the surface of the lake before him, black and blue imprints bled into one face. The face of the Jedi Master Coci Heavenshield.

His aura faded and his eyes clouded back to amber, his face set to stone. The Dark Side swelled inside him and his cybernetic hand thumped into the stone wall, spitting out chunks from the impact.

"The one who betrayed me. The one who tried to kill me and strip the darkness from me like an animal. I see her. I see her! That's all I need. Coci Heavenshield will suffer for this. She WILL suffer."

He didn't shout, or stomp around crushing everything he could in a petulant rage. No, he just spoke with that same dark edge Tmoxin did as the emotion surfaced in him and his sights were set on a target. A Jedi Master and champion of the Light who had tried to play God, but failed.

"What do you want."

He refrained from looking at Tmoxin, and just let her feel his returning venom to siphon for herself.

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#60
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Tmoxin's slender fingers rose to her glossy lips, chewing upon a black-polished thumbnail with interest when Harrison grew so furious over the brunette Jedi Master residing in his head. Perhaps leaving her in there was not such a bad idea after all. And soon, she wanted to delve into his brain, this time using not science, but her powerful Mind Probe again. However, she recalled his retribution against her when the Blood Monarch had seeped into his psyche uninvited; she would find a better time in which to pry.
 
As the Hapan Dark Jedi watched and listened, she bent at the waist, slowly unzipping her boots, the soft leather folding easily down around her calves until she kicked both of the riding boots off. Then rising up from the chair and walking to join him, standing right beside where his cyber-hand marred the stone, she absent-mindedly examined the chink he’d made with his angry blow.
 
And siphon did she, tugging at the wicked strength she felt emanating from his tall corporeal form, allowing it to pass over her like an unstoppable current, one which she would not squander. Conversely, Tmoxin planned to give it all back to Harrison if he so desired what she had to offer.
 
“I have been asked by Darth Metus, Lord of Storms, to lead the Geonosian Knights, a Force sect that will enforce local and interplanetary laws in Confederacy space. It only makes sense as my primary interests lie in this area of the galaxy."
 
As he’d done in the Kamino recovery room, this time Tmoxin grasped his hand, the flesh and blood one, her ring finger lightly caressing his palm. “Join me. You can have your own Star Fortress or a Citadel, in addition to your Lok garrison. As an Exarch you’ll also retain use of a command vessel, and as High Justice, I will need advisers, especially one individual who can be my right hand.” The touch was soft, but the words were firm, attesting to both the promise of a physical temptation, and at the same time, something mysterious and esoteric underneath the coquettish approach. And underscoring that at a deeper level was an assurance of power for Harrison and the ability to serve up justice as he saw fit.
 

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