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The Masks That Are Worn

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#1
Dax Fyre

Dax Fyre

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ships_over_desert_by_5ofnovember-d6yezkaLocation: Kal'Shebbol

 

"Awwww, c'mon man..." Hazlyn groaned, as his face grimaced, his face clearly showing the disgust that could not due the scene justice. "Well...that's not a way I wanna go down," a grimace on Dax's own face as he stared at the mess that'd been left behind. The Marshall knelt down to examine the bits of burnt and singed meat that lie on the floor before him. Pock marked with burn holes, but not the kind left behind by blasters. Smaller, and in such a high amount, it was as if someone had been covered in sand hot enough to burn a whole through one's body.

 

"I've never seen anything like this, what in the hell is this chit?" the Rogue said as he knelt down to examine the body closer...not that he wanted to be any closer to the revolting mess.

Halzyn swiped through the multiple screens of a datapad as he spoke, "Local authorities mentioned an acid and some form of adhesive. Traces left behind on the body. But they weren't sure how it got on him, or why he doesn't look more like a...puddle...or why adhesive is involved for that matter. Nothing's making any sense to them."

"That's just preliminary analysis right?" Dax asked as he pulled out his knife and tentatively poked the body with the tip.

"Yeah, but I'd be surprised if they find anything else."

"Yeah, you're probably right." The rasp of plastic on metal could be heard as the knife was returned to its sheath. Dax stood and ran his hand through his hair with a sigh, "I'll look through the list of obscure weapons that ORCs compiled...maybe something will show up. Gorram this is..." the Rogue shuddered inwardly, "Let's get outta here, hit the bar or something...we can do some research while we're at it..."

 

@Sherezade deWinter


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#2
Scherezade deWinter

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Some bar. Somewhere.

Scherezade was leaning against the bar, head spinning. She wasn't entirely sure where she was, or how she'd gotten there. She just knew that she needed a break, to disappear, to get out of CIS space. Ryloth was barred to her, Coruscant was contaminated with the memories of that dreadful night, and there had been no where else to go, so she'd punched a few random buttons on the auto pilot and her ship took off.

The rest of the trip had been woozy. She'd gotten some never tried liquor before and had just consumed it without thinking. There had not been a sober day for her since the day after she got out of the Darkness. Not a single day where she could handle being fully sober after the betrayal at the hands of the man she loved and the woman who she once called sister.

She wanted to say she was getting better. She wanted to say that she had good moments of clarity. But that would have been a lie. The liquor had done nothing to numb her emotions, quiet her senses, and still she ran to it, looking for that sweet silence of boozy drunkness.

And here she was now, sitting in an unknown bar, not even sure of what planet she was on. Her usual attire of pink t-shirt and jeans was on her boy as well, along with the wide assortment of weapons stashed across her body; twelve Czerka knives and a gun that could shoot glitter.

She'd stopped ordering shots and had opted for an entire bottle instead, tossing one of the last credit chips she had to cover for it. Her salary from the Confederacy was now six months late. If she ran out of bacta, she'd have no way of replenishing it. But it didn't matter, did it? They weren't sending her on missions anyway.

No friends. No family. No love. No job. Scherezade looked every bit as she felt; not only a woman who had nothing, but just... Nothing.

 

 

Dax Fyre


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#3
Dax Fyre

Dax Fyre

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Dax walked into the bar, deep in thought, mulling over what the hell could have been the source of the bizarre wounds that had been left behind on the body. He was so deep in thought, he didn't even notice the woman he sat down next to. Halzyn sat next to him and they each ordered drinks as Halzyn pulled out a small, pocket-sized datapad and began looking through files. Dax searched through the Coalition's catalogue of documented weapons on his hololink. The Coalition was known for odd and unique ships and weapons. Some more dangerous than others. So, the Judges of the Coalition had done their best to keep a catalogue of known weapons, and who they were affiliated with. It even catalogued some of their neighboring allies. The Rogue couldn't help but smirk as he saw his own creation, Eel Gloves on the catalogue.

 

"Hey look at this." Halzyn said, showing the datapad to the Marshall. While there was no image there was text that Dax begun to read. 'Glitterbullets'...acid covered glitter that was dispersed on contact. "There's no images of these in action or what they look like, but I can imagine they'd do some damage not too different from our body. Says here they're made and used exclusively by one Scherezade deWinter."


Edited by Dax Fyre, 18 June 2018 - 12:47 PM.

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#4
Scherezade deWinter

Scherezade deWinter

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Scherezade blinked in confusing at hearing her own name. She didn't move, but her ears spiked up as she tried to listen in. She was in the middle of nowhere, she had done nothing, she was just sitting somewhere unknown drinking a bottle. Why did chit have to follow her around?

She took another swig from the bottle. There were more than a few things that were used exclusively by her. Glitter bullets, laxatives, baby Hutts... Was she discovered as the main cause of one of them? If it was only her name mentioned and not the CIS, it was fine.

The Sithling puffed. Whoever it was that had mentioned her name, they did not know she was right here, sitting next to them. She glanced, eyes squinting, and took another big gulp. Silence was a best friend in some cases.

She should... Remain silent. Yes. Whatever this was, it wouldn't matter anymore soon enough.

 

Dax Fyre


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#5
Dax Fyre

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The Marshall nodded, he could envision the kind of damage these 'Glitterbullets' could inflict. Who the hell made a bullet made of glitter though...someone must really hate the galaxy to stuff the stuff inside of a bullet...Force knows how it goes everywhere and never, ever, goes away. Yeah...Dax hated glitter.

 

The Rogue began a search for this 'Scherezade deWinter'. The known information of the young woman appeared on his datapad and he began to summarize for Halzyn as he showed him a picture of the woman, "Scherezade deWinter, known member of the deWinter family, although details of how she survived the Gulag Plague is...ok, something about being turned into a pebble? Remind me to have a talk with whoever made this file...anyways, known Sith, ties to various others of course. Member of the Confederacy. Nothing that I can tell that-what?" Halzyn had nudged Dax and pointed behind the man to the woman that was sitting next to him. Sure enough it was the same woman in the picture, except for one thing. The real-life edition appeared harrowed, devoid of...well anything. Dax stared at her for a moment then at Halzyn, then back to the woman. "Scherezade deWinter, you're under arrest."


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#6
Scherezade deWinter

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She remained silent, outwardly ever the drunk that she was. But inside, she could feel her heart beating. It was one thing that her name and face were known, but there were details there... Details that were never meant to be on her file. That were never meant to be known to anyone other than those she confided in. It was infuriating. She was going to have harsh words with Srina Talon and Darth Metus when she was back in CIS space. It was the sort of chyt that could ruin whatever pathetic empty shell of a life she had at present. She had enough problems without it.

It also seemed like a good time to remind the Jedi that had promised her he'd help her with removing info from her files. The initial plan had been to wipe anything from her pre-CIS days and leave a gif of her naked butt shaking from side to side. But that plan was made in happier days, when she still hungered for adventure and fun, when she could still smile. Right now, all she wanted was for that info to be utterly and entirely done.

She closed her eyes when the dude next to her told her she was under arrest.

"Not how it goes," she mumbled, taking another swig from her bottle before turning to look at the... Boy? Man? Whatever. "You're supposed to tell me what I'm being arrested for." Her voice was slightly slurred, her speech slower than she wanted it to be. But even drunk, she knew her basic rights. "Now the last time someone tried to randomly grab like that in public he ended up almost killing me and I still have scars. As you can clearly see, I'm too drunk to be able to do anything other than get more drunk. So get your arresting thing out of my face because whatever it is, I didn't do it, and you have nothing to arrest me over."

With that, she stuck her tongue out and took another long gulp from her bottle. She wasn't in the mood for this. But she wasn't moving away to make a run for it either.

 

 

Dax Fyre


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#7
Dax Fyre

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The two men looked at the woman with their eyebrows raised in a slight amount of confusion. Neither of them had seen someone this drunk in quite a long time. And that was coming from an alcoholic. Halzyn looked at Dax before looking at the girl again and speaking, "We need to ask you some questions, and if you don't want things to get any worse for you, you should just come with us."

 

"And I'm afraid in the Coalition, you don't have the same rights you do in the Confederacy. Unfortunately for you we aren't the local authorities either. You don't have a lot of choices here hun, if you say you didn't do anything, make me believe it, let us ask you what needs asking." said Dax. He wasn't lying either...well mostly. To be completely honest, the Marshall had no clue what it was like in the Confederacy, but in the Coalition at least, the Judges could bring people in at any time, the way Dax saw it, the less red tape, the better. They couldn't hold her indefinitely without solid evidence, but they were within their abilities to detain the woman, should they saw fit.

 

Dax was really hoping to avoid that. It took a lot of hurt to push someone to get that drunk. He didn't want to add to whatever pain lurked under her skin, but he still had a job to do and unfortunately for the Sith, she was they're only suspect.

 

Scherezade deWinter


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#8
Scherezade deWinter

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"First off," Scherezade snapped, glaring at the one who'd just spoken, the green glow emitting from her eyes, "do not, ever, call me hun. I'm not your hun. If you're some sort of official you should know better."

She took another gulp, looking at the two buttholes the entire time. She wasn't in the mood for this. She didn't feel like almost dying again. The scar from the last time she'd been threatened with arrest had ended with a lightsaber through the heart and abdomen, and her skin still carried the mark on her heart, the little perfect round that was there to remind her of what had happened. Frankly, it was the least of her worries because everything else was so much worse. But it still hurt.

"Second," she continued, "I'm sitting right here. All harmless. See?" she pointed at her face, and then her hands moved quickly. Knives were being removed her her; there were over a dozen hiding beneath her clothes, and now they lay gleaming on the bar. Not truly harmless since she could still use the Force to wedge them into various body parts, but at least she hoped the intent was clear. She wasn't here to stir trouble. A girl just wanted a drink, to forget, and to leave.

"So ask what you want. You don't need to arrest me to ask question." Before they could answer, she took another drink and belched, holding back the tears. This was Coruscant all over again. But this time she knew in advance that no one would save her. If the blood off her dying body was going to be used to write on the walls again, this would be the end.

 

 

Dax Fyre


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#9
Dax Fyre

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"Nothing's official out here. You shoulda known that before coming here." the Marshall fired back as he watched the woman pull out a collection of knives that made even Dax jealous. "Alright, fine then, tell me about your 'glitterbullets' and why the hell I have a body that looks about what I reckon your little friends would leave behind." As Dax spoke he gestured with a hand to the bartender who walked over, "Corellian Whiskey, please."

"Just beer for me."

"You guys got it." the bartender said as he proceeded to pour out their drinks before placing them with a soft thud on the bar top.

 

"And then, you can tell me why the hell your out in Coalition space in the first place." Dax said as he picked up the glass of amber liquid, taking a sip.

 

Scherezade deWinter


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#10
Scherezade deWinter

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Again with the 'here'. Wherever this 'here' was. Wait, they'd mentioned the Coalition. Scherezade had to run through her brain several times before completing that to the Outer Rim Coalition. ORC. Weren't they supposed to be allies with the CIS? If that was the case, why were they being so annoying about it? Anyway, she had pretty much zero information regarding what they actually were or how they ran things. All she knew was that this was supposed to be somewhere safe. Or relatively safe, anyway. Then again, the same could be said for Coruscant under the Galactic Alliance, and her flesh and mind both knew how wrong that had been.

She drank more while they talked and started asking their questions. Her bullets were mentioned. She almost spit at that. How did they know about her Glitter Bullets?

Head snapped to look at them again, finishing off with the last question as if she was some sort of a criminal, and she openly glared, though the effect was probably not as great when it name from someone who was sort of swinging back and forth in her seat while trying to maintain her balance.

"I don't have friends, stop poking me about it," she half hissed at them, "and I don't know why you have a body that looks like it was hit by them. I guess I'm not the only one that thought about coating glitter in acid and then suppressing it into bullets."

It was heart shattering to think about it though. She'd been so sure that she was original and unique when she'd made it. Had she known someone else had done it, she would've just gone to the source and made a purchase from there, since it had taken her about a week of constantly getting skin parts eaten up by the acid and a lot of money spent on bacta to avoid permanent injury.

"Anyway, I've never fired a bullet of them outside of CIS space," she added. It was... Mostly true. There were a few places that were not CIS space at the time of shooting, but became CIS space later the same day, but that sort of nitpicking didn't seem like it'd go well.

"And the krak do you mean what the hell I'm doing here?" she almost yelled, "CIS and ORC are supposed to be allies, if this is really ORC space, there's nothing that bars me from being here as long as I can afford docking fees!"

She took another drink and set the bottle down. A moment later her head slumped forward and landed on the bar, her eyes towards the two buttholes, still angry, but also very woozy. "If you're detectives or whatever, you really suck at your job."

 

Dax Fyre


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#11
Dax Fyre

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As the woman responded to each question in her drunken stupor, Dax's doubt only grew. Beyond just the thought that no one would be crazy enough to cover glitter in acid and then shove it in a bullet that was.

 

"We aren't detectives. Not really anyways." The Judges usually didn't handle investigations like this. They warded against pirates, raiders, chased down high-profile killers and criminals. Not solve murders. And even when Dax did take the occasional murder mystery, he usually had the Force giving him hints here or there. But this time, the Force had elected to leave Dax in the dark, without even a flashlight. He was really blundering around in the dark here. "And you're right, you have the right to be in ORC space. But you didn't come here for the beaches. You're here for another reason. And if I had to take a guess from your current condition, its to forget." It wasn't a stretch for Dax to make such an assumption, not when he'd been in her shoes before. Different song, same old dance was his guess, "I don't know what that is, and I honestly don't care. But lucky for you, I'm guessing that means you've been drunk of your ass for days. And if that's the case you wouldn't be able to shoot a gun for chit." Honestly, the thought of the younger woman trying to shoot a gun in her drunken state was comical, swaying back and forth, stumbling, trying to line up her sights for a shot, it really was a funny image. "But that leaves the question of who got ahold of your bullets. We've no other record of another weapon that's similar. So, unless you've got an answer..." the Rogue trailed off as he took another drink of his whiskey.

 

Scherezade deWinter


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#12
Scherezade deWinter

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Not detectives. Not officials. There were too many nots gathering for her mind to comprehend just there and then what the krak was happening and who these people were. Scherezade tried to roll her eyes, but only one cooperated with her, seeing as the other one was kinda half smushed against the bar. It was uncomfortable. Her hands came up slowly and she started pushing herself up inch by inch. Once her face had unglued itself from the cheap wood she stared forward blankly for a moment, her hand now leaving the bar to reach for the bottle again.

"Beaches?" she repeated with a question, blinking, "I'm somewhere with beaches?"

She wasn't sure why it mattered. She wasn't a fan of beaches. Sand got everywhere, tourist showed their bodies off, and she couldn't swim. It was but one of the reasons she didn't bother going to Spira, where some remains of her family were, where her mother had grown up. There was nothing for her there, or anywhere else that had beaches. But that begged the question... Where the heck was she?

She rolled both eyes at being told she was there to forget. She was so tired of people telling her that. Fine, so she didn't know how to hide it. The past month of her life had been great at proving that she knew pretty much nothing. But having it pointed out like that, again, by a stranger, again. She felt violated. She wanted to smash the bottle into the butthead's head. Thankfully for him, there was still booze in the bottle. Never waste a drop.

When he mentioned someone getting a hold of her bullets though...

Scherezade set the bottle on the bar and pulled her slugpistol out. There was no way anyone would've managed to get their hands on her bullets. She practically slept with them. The only person who might have had any sliver of chance was a Jedi, and he wouldn't have... Or would he? With shaky fingers, she opened the compartment that held the bullets and put them on the bar, motioning for the two gafoons not to try to touch them.

"One... Two..." she counted slowly, going one by one, the bullets small and covered on the outside with an eye-burning shade of pink, "Three... Four..."

And that was it.

"No bullets missing," she sighed and started working them back into the gun, "I had four when I got off Melida/Daan and had to shoot that filthy zombie virus infected Mandalorian, and then things were too busy to make more and then..."

And then Gerwald had decided to sing songs and sleep with her sister instead of come check up on her, and then had not even contacted her even though they were supposed to go get his siblings from that chithole called Stewjon, and then she had stumbled into Kamon who almost killed her. Gerwald and Katrine claimed they saved her because they loved her, but while she had been in the Darkness for what she thought was years but they said was a week, they had chosen and loved and claimed each other. They had probably krakked each other's brains out on the same bed while she was lying in it.

She wanted to vomit as the pain washed over her, the memories coming back faster than she could drink them away.

It was a long and awkward silence before she realized she had succeeded in not bursting into tears in front of a stranger again.

"Then your records suck," she groaned, her voice breaking as she put her pistol back where it belonged, "besides, I can still kill while drunk. Been there, done that. Could shoot you between the eyes right now if I wanted to. But I don't want to. I just want to be left alone and... Where the krak am I? What's this planet? Do your silly little records state when I got here?"

 

 

Dax Fyre


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#13
Dax Fyre

Dax Fyre

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Dax and Halzyn both deadpanned as the woman questioned if there were beaches nearby, but didn't interrupt as she pulled out her weapon and couldn't the bullets left in her weapon. The slow drunkenness of it would've been funny if it hadn't been for the increasing irritability that the Sith was clearly displaying. Finally she finished and confirmed her four, truly terrifying pink bullets were counted out. and present.

 

"Ok first off, there's no fethin' beaches around here it was sarcasm. You're on Kal'shebbol, and no, we don't track who comes and goes unless they start causing trouble. Do you really have no clue where you are?"The Rogue was half tempted at this point to actually arrest the woman and throw her in a cell to sober up, but that probably wasn't going to go over well with the CIS...come to think of it, there was a good chance none of this was going to go over well, but at this point it was too late.

 

Scherezade deWinter


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#14
Scherezade deWinter

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Scherezade shook her head slowly. She really had no clue where she was. Worse than that, the name Kal'shebbol meant nothing to her, didn't ring any sort of bell or anything. She didn't even now which part of the galaxy she was in or whether or not she had enough money for gas to go... To go.. To go somewhere within CIS space. She wasn't really sure where. Being barred from Ryloth, the only planet she considered some sort of a home outside of Coruscant, made things difficult. Maybe it was time to go to Geonosis, even though it was too hot. And there was nothin interesting on it other than some stupid government buildings and such crap. But she supposed it was better than floating randomly in space.

"I think I had too much moon shine yesterday," she mumbled, thinking of the events of Castange. Hadn't she fought Mandalorians there? She wasn't sure. She remembered there being moonshine, and sand, "or maybe it was the special Dathomiri wine brew thing. Are we close to Dathomir?"

 

Dax Fyre
 


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#15
Dax Fyre

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"Dathomir is clear on the other side of the galaxy. How many days have you been drunk for exactly?" the Rogue asked, completely bewildered at how the woman had absolutely no clue about where she was or how and when she got here. In the back of his mind he was also asking himself how she hadn't simply dropped dead from alcohol poisoning yet, but that was for another time.

 

Whatever the case was, it was pretty clear that this Scherezade deWinter was certainly in no condition to shoot anyone, besides, all her bullets were accounted for, despite there was no one to vouch for her on that point, the Marshall had a feeling the Sith wouldn't be able to lie, even if she tried given her current inebriated condition.


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#16
Scherezade deWinter

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Days?

Scherezade blinked. Who counted days? Six months of living, one week of which in the Darkness, when had she come out? When had that horrible night happened? When had Katrine and Gerwald taken the mush that she was when she finally awakened from the Darkness, only to break her completely and fully? She could still sometimes feel the phantom pains on the side of her head, where she had slammed it repeatedly against the sidewalk after leaving the ship, after denouncing Katrine as her sister and family, after denouncing the Mandragora, after...

"I think..." she mumbled, trying to go over events she remembered. Places she had been. A dress she had purchased. A Fortressa she'd tried to sink in pain. A bedding she'd tried to do in order to forget. "Two weeks?" she guessed. There were enough events in her head to account for about two weeks. But she didn't know if there were unaccounted days in between. "Three?" she guessed again before shrugging and taking another gulp from her bottle. "Doesn't matter. It never ends."

 

 

Dax Fyre


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#17
Dax Fyre

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The Marshall's eye twitched at the words. "Two to three weeks of being drunk straight off your ass, gotta say that's probably a new record." The Rogue turned and leaned over the counter as he tried to think through...whatever this case had turned into. He let out a groan as he rubbed his temples in frustration before throwing back the rest of his drink.

 

"Alright, get up." Dax said, as he stood up himself shook out a leg that had fallen asleep on him. "We're gonna try and figure this out, cause as much as you might say it, I don't think you could hit the broadside of a cruiser right now."

 

Scherezade deWinter


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#18
Scherezade deWinter

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It wasn't a new record. She had... She had an aunt that was somewhere over the five hundred years mark. But he didn't need to know that. Scherezade sighed and drank yet again. But now she was being told to get up? The young girl shook her head.

"I don't want to figure this thing out," she said, her voice grumpy, "not my circus, not my flying banthas."

Was that how the line went? She wasn't completely sure right now.

"I have enough to deal with without someone else realizing glitter is useful," she added a moment later, and took another swig. They could handle it on their own. Or maybe not, they weren't really great detectives. But it wasn't her problem.

 

 

Dax Fyre


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#19
Dax Fyre

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"Well unfortunately for you,"the Marshall said as he stood up and tossed some credits on the counter, "like I said earlier, you are the only suspect. Now it'd be very easy for me to collar you and cash in, but I'll be honest, I don't really think you killed the dude." Dax put his hands into his pockets and shrugged, "Plus, I don't like paperwork, I'm happy putting it off for as long as possible. And you might get the chance to beat the chit out of whoever stole, copied, or whatever'd your bullets."

 

Scherezade deWinter


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#20
Scherezade deWinter

Scherezade deWinter

    The Blood Hound

  • Codex Judge
    • Character Bio
  • 3,780 posts

A chance to beat someone up. Okay. Fine. She could take that angle. Well, she could take that angle when the levels of alcohol in her blood was slightly lower. Right now she wasn't sure she was good for more than once punch. Sure, she'd had half minutes, sometimes minutes of fighting clarity before, even while this drunk. But there was never the promise of it, never the assurance that she'd be able to do it.

"I hate you," she growled and motioned for the bartender that he was covering for the next bottle she was taking.

It took...

More than a moment, before she was finally standing, leaning against the bar. She doubted her own ability to walk a straight line right now. Maybe she could manage a perfectly crooked circle.

"You really think I'm the only person to come up with the glitter bullets idea?" she found herself asking as she took a swig from her new shiny bottle, "you don't smell that inexperienced with the 'verse."

 

 

Dax Fyre


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