Malsur Wainkye had endured many hangovers in his young life, but this one easily stood out amidst the rest of them as the worst. Thus far anyway. His whole head was throbbing and he hadn't even opened his eyes yet, not to mention the back of his neck ached fiercely. He knew he shouldn't have taken that strange injection from that freaky mask guy at the party. A thought that was only confirmed when he finally opened his eyes and noticed that he was restrained in a chair in some dark stark grey room. "Well...chit." He really shouldn't have taken that freaky mask guy's injection.
He struggled and strained against his bindings but the gleaming metal didn't budge at all, his wild eyes flickering around at the darkness that surrounded him in search of anything that could help him escape the chair. "Hey! Do you know who you're dealing with?!" He shouted, voice echoing in the seemingly empty room. "You're gonna regret messing with me and mine! I'm-" "Malsur Wainkye." The voice made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as it seemed to buzz against his very mind, his gaze snapping to what seemed to be a screen in front of him that displayed a crimson triangle in a sea of black.
"Playboy son of infamous black market military contractor Camrelis Wainkye." Malsur flinched at the sensation the voice caused him and then cleared his throat to try and keep some of the trembling out of his voice. "Y-Yeah that's right. And when my pops hears about what you've done to me you and your whole fething crew are gonna be sleeping with the Banthas, you hear me?" The crimson triangle didn't seem impressed. "S-So you better let me go right now and maybe I'll forget about this whole thing eh?"
"I have done nothing to you, Malsur." The young man scoffed and sputtered up a response only to be cut short as the voice continued. "There are two people who have wronged you Malsur, yourself and your father." "What-" "Despite knowing the business your father engages in, being hired by tyrants and corporations to stamp out any populations and peoples that would dare stand in the way of his employer's profits you've not only kept silent you've allowed yourself to enjoy the spoils of his misdeeds. Partying, illicit substances, flings with every being that catches your attention, you've lived a life of sin Malsur."
The throbbing in his head and the buzzing in the back of his mind seemed to intensify all at once, his vision blurring as what he could only describe as static swam at the edges of it. He heard his heart beating in his ears as pain wracked his head and made him cry out in agony. Was he having a stroke? Some kind of poison? Right as his vision darkened and threatened to plunge him back into unconsciousness however the sensation ended all at once, just as suddenly as it began and leaving him gasping and heaving against his restraints. "Wh-What the feth did you do to me?!"
Panic overwhelmed what he thought was going to be an intimidating demand for answers. "I have done nothing to you, Malsur. Your current situation is a product of your and your father's choices. Your combined sins have brought you all this pain." The buzzing reappeared in the back of his mind and he tensed, shuddering breaths escaping him as he stared at the damned triangle. "But you can earn yourself an escape from it. Penance that will lead to absolution for all that you've done and all that you've allowed to occur due to your inaction."
The buzzing faded and Malsur tried to steady his breathing as he gritted his teeth. "What the hell do you want from me?" The triangle seemed to glow brighter in response as the buzzing reared its head once again. "I want to help you perform your penance Malsur. I want to wipe away your sins." He shivered and struggled against his bindings again as the buzzing and splitting headache crashed over him and drew out another cry of pain. "And until you want that too, all you will do is hurt yourself."
Camrelis Wainkye swirled his Brewglass with a lazy twist of his wrist as the booming yet somewhat muffled club music drowned out the voice of the reporter on the holoprojection that he was watching. It was going over his company's most recent failure to intervene on Naos III, a rather sore topic and one that had been occupying his mind for the past two days. Some mayor had been killed and a riot had erupted in the aftermath, with his mercenaries hired to help put down the little revolt. But somehow his forces had been intercepted and were now pinned down but due to his employer's needing to keep up appearances he was here instead of out there directing his mercenaries.
The whole situation put a bad taste in his mouth. It was like someone knew where his forces would be making their landing on the planet but there were no signs of any breaches in his network nor in those of his employer's. The worst part wasn't even the difficult landing and the ongoing stalemate that followed, it was that the freighters carrying additional equipment for the combat had simply disappeared an hour ago before the blasted party began. Enough blasters, grenades, and supplies to keep his forces armed and fighting for weeks on end was now out of their hands as well as the very ships that carried them.
He grimaced as the music outside ramped up to a new tempo, thankful for the private room in the club that did something to dampen the noise at least. Better to stew in his failure in here than brush elbows with the rest of the partiers outside. Unfortunately the door to his private room slid open and allowed the cacophony of cheering patrons and the awful music to enter unhindered, a quick glare in its direction meeting the stoic face of one of his bodyguards. "Mr. Wainkye sir, you have a visitor."
Camrelis bit back a curse as the bodyguard stepped aside to make way for a familiar and welcome face, that of his son. "Malsur my boy!" Finally some good company, even if the boy didn't meet his gaze at first and walked in slowly. "Come in and have a seat, this club has been a drag." Compared to his son's extravagant parties he was sure that Malsur would be bored out of his mind in a place like this and indeed it seemed like he was given the solemn expression that adorned his features.
The bodyguard left the father and son be, the door sliding closed as Malsur sat down across from his father and eyed the glass in his hands. Camrelis raised an eyebrow, finding the silence and fidgeting of his son to be very odd and out of character. "Something wrong? You get into some trouble on that last cruise of yours?" He knew that Malsur had taken another of his long term pleasure cruises, having been out of the public eye for the better part of three weeks now, so it was likely that the boy had gotten himself into something above his head as usual.
"Pops...are..." The boy swallowed a lump in his throat. "Do you...ever regret your line of work?" Camrelis blinked in surprise and took a sip of his Brewglass, mulling the strange question over in his head for a moment before shrugging. "Everyone needs a job. Everyone needs someone gotten rid of, but the assassin business is too bloated. Private militaries have earned good livings for a very good reason Malrus, governments and corporations get to blame someone else for a massacre or war and we get to make a profit. It's as simple as that."
Malrus seemed to be gnawing a hole in his cheek as he nodded. "I...see." He stared at the table between them for a moment before nodding to the glass in his father's hand then towards the bottle full of Brewglass on the table between them. "Could you pour me a drink please?" Camrelis nodded with a small hum and leaned over to pluck up the bottle, setting his own glass down so that he could pick up one of the empty ones on the table next to it.
The blaster bolt wasn't heard amidst the raging party in the club beyond the private room, but the sound of the bottle shattering on the ground as the body fell out of the chair was noticed by the bodyguards. They stepped into the room and were greeted by blaster fire instantly, Malrus taking cover behind his chair and laying into them with the holdout blaster that he had kept hidden in his sleeve.
Cleric Thocha stepped around the fallen bodies and spilled drinks from broken glasses with a precise yet quick stride. It wouldn't be long before Naos authorities would descend upon the club, given that it was already evacuated from the shoot out. Most of the bodyguards and a fair number of patrons had died in the firefight but the Sith wasn't poking through the various bodies at random, he was searching for one in particular amongst the carnage. The trail of death led all the way from the private rooms, across the dancefloor and bar, and down into the restroom area and it was there that he found Malrus.
The young man had already succumbed to his wounds, a number of blaster marks dotting his clothing and marking his skin in dark blemishes. To his credit he had felled over a dozen wicked souls before he was cut down. The cleric reached down and hefted the body of the playboy over his shoulder, making his way towards the staff exit and out into the street so that he'd have some distance between himself and the incoming authorities. They'd be too busy out front where injured and frantic patrons were still clambering over one another to get away from the crazed gunman.
:"I have recovered the subject my lord, I will reunite with my transport shortly.": Thocha spoke into his mask's commlink as he slid down decrepit and dark alleys, glancing around for any prying eyes that would need to be blinded before he left the city. :"Excellent work, and did he fulfill the assignment?": The cleric felt around the corpse's pockets for a moment before smirking beneath his mask and tapping on his commlink again. :"Affirmative my Prophet.": The moment that he was roughly a block away from the club he heard the hidden explosive go off, a fireball erupting onto the street and leaving no evidence and even fewer witnesses behind as Thocha vanished into the night.
