Private Beneath Neon and Blood

[Aielyn Veralas]

Aielyn watched in numb disbelief as the freighter lifted off, disappearing into the chaotic ship traffic beyond the platform. Gone. Everything she had left—robbed clean, save for the weight of her lightsaber at her side. Her fingers twitched, but she couldn't move. Couldn't think. The sheer audacity of it left her frozen in place, the cold, indifferent press of the crowd jarring against her motionless form. Strangers shoved past her, bodies colliding with hers without so much as a glance.

The rain came down in slow, heavy drops, the thick atmosphere coating her skin, mingling with the silent tears that streamed down her cheeks. She wasn't sure if it was grief or anger—perhaps both. Perhaps neither. The void inside her was too deep to name.

Then reality struck back, in the form of an Ithorian who barreled into her with zero hesitation.

A sharp grunt escaped her lips as she hit the duracrete with force, pain shooting through her ribs. The impact stole what little breath she had left, a strangled groan escaping her as she winced. The ground was freezing, damp and slick beneath her palms, but the Ithorian didn't care. He cursed at her in his native tongue—deep, reverberating, and scathing—before stepping over her like she was nothing.

Aielyn clenched her jaw, forcing herself upright, swallowing the sting of humiliation as she pushed into the endless press of bodies.

The stench hit next.

It was a rancid cocktail—mold and musk, thick and damp, clinging to the humid air. The sweat of countless species, each bringing their own foreign odors, impaled her senses with every inhale. She pulled her hood down lower, trying to block out the filth, but it was pointless. It seeped into her lungs, into her skin, into everything.

This galaxy sucked—and yet, despite everything, she endured.

She trudged forward, deeper into the neon-lit abyss, where the signs were foreign, the symbols unknown, flashing and flickering with garish intensity. The air thickened, the musk of bodies giving way to something sharper—a metallic tang, unmistakable, coating her tongue like copper and decay.

Blood.

It was everywhere.

And she had just stepped into its den.

Sable Varro

 

[Sable Varro]

​

Beneath Neon And Blood

Tag: Aielyn Veralas

Deployment Location:

• Primary Target Zone: [Unknown]

Equipment Loadout:

• Primary Weapon(s): SD-L1 Long Blaster
• Secondary Weapon(s): HG-88 Big Iron, VB-113 "Tidefall" Class Vibroblade,
• Specialized Gear: Wrist Mounted Weapons (Hekler'Kok WMMW-01), DS-102 "Aegis" Personal Energy Shield,
• Armor & Attire: Personal Armor

---

---

​

She didn’t want this fight. At her core, she hadn’t been here to start one.

“Someone stab that fething schutta-“

The man who had the gall to still call her that caught a hand to the face, his nose broke from the impact.

Just drink it all in-

The fething voice taunted her, and for a moment, she caught a right cross to the left cheek. She replied in kind by kicking in the Rodian’s knee. The alien dropped, just as her senses alerted her to a knife aimed at her back.

She flipped, found a piece of metal she could grip, and flipped herself atop it.

The knife stuck into the falling Rodian’s throat, the last man remaining looked up at her in awe, as Sable dropped onto him with both feet-it was over.

Around her laid several bodies, some dead, some not far from it. She staggered to her helmet, ignoring the handful of groans about her, hand fumbling for the piece of metal that she found comfort in.

Just end it, drink your fill-

She felt her darker urge call, as she flipped the helmet about, and slide it over her head. She hasn’t meant for it to come down to this, she didn’t mean to kill anyone when she had stumbled in here, and yet-

She paused, the voice melting away, and filling her with a sense of awareness she hadn’t known she had. Turning back, Sable froze, her armor speckled with the blood of several victims, her hand moving to switch on the modulator of her helmet as she spoke a handful of infamously uttered words.

“I can explain.”

 

[Aielyn Veralas]

Aielyn stilled, breath sharp, as the sensation of death slithered through her like a cold finger on exposed bone. A presence, unseen yet undeniable, traced along her very essence—its nail searing into her flesh, leaving behind something unspoken. A mark. A claim.

The scene before her warped—a vortex of movement, crimson splashes, the sound of bodies breaking. The armored figure turned. Faced her. And in that instant, everything inside her screamed.

Fight.

Flight.

Something in between.

She couldn't move. The pressure in her chest was unbearable—tight, suffocating, like the air itself wanted to crush her ribs inward. And then, the figure spoke.

Her body braced.

But the attack never came.

The moment stretched, then snapped—her limbs giving way, her mind pulling her beneath an unseen tide. She folded like a crumpled durasteel plate, hitting the duracrete hard, unconscious before she even hit the ground.

Sable Varro

 

[Sable Varro]

​

Beneath Neon And Blood

Tag: Aielyn Veralas

Deployment Location:

• Primary Target Zone: [Unknown]

Equipment Loadout:

• Primary Weapon(s): SD-L1 Long Blaster
• Secondary Weapon(s): HG-88 Big Iron, VB-113 "Tidefall" Class Vibroblade,
• Specialized Gear: Wrist Mounted Weapons (Hekler'Kok WMMW-01), DS-102 "Aegis" Personal Energy Shield,
• Armor & Attire: Personal Armor

---

---

​

Sable watched her fall.

No cry, no struggle—just a body folding into the duracrete like a broken thing, limp and silent beneath the chaos. Her visor tracked the motion, cold and clinical, but her hand…
Her hand shook.

Fingers clenched tight around the grip of her pistol, knuckles white beneath the gauntlet. The muscle in her jaw tensed. She hated that tremor—hated what it meant. That pull again. That cold, snarling voice in the back of her mind, whispering how easy it'd be.

She could do it right here and now, and it would put the thoughts to rest for-

Her breath hitched—just for a second. Her aim dropped, sights lining up on the motionless woman's head. The tremor in her fingers steadied. Not from discipline—no. From temptation.

And that's what made her furious.

She wasn't supposed to want this. She wasn't supposed to feel that old thrill curling in her gut like a coiled blade, eager to strike. It wasn't survival this time—it was hunger. A darker edge, whispering that maybe the kill didn't need a reason anymore.

Her lip curled beneath the visor, a snarl caught between shame and fury.

"No," She growled, low and bitter—at herself more than anything.

The pistol swung hard to the side. One of the men groaned at her feet, half-alive, leaking blood across the duracrete. Sable didn't hesitate—she pulled the trigger. The bolt punched through his chest, silencing him instantly.

The cold at the back of her mind retreated, the tension in her form dissipated.

The shot echoed through the space, sharp and final.

The tension in her shoulders eased just a fraction. The need had somewhere to go. Better him than her. But it didn't make her feel cleaner. It didn't make the rage stop simmering beneath her skin. She tried to rationalize, make the decision her own, take it away from the urge within her.

She stared down at her shaking hand, flexing it once before shoving the pistol back into its holster with a hard snap.

"Damn it," She muttered, bitter, quiet.

She stepped over to Aielyn's side, crouching low. She would check the pulse of the woman, trying to focus on something else.

"Still breathing," She muttered. "For now."

A beat passed.

She became aware of a series of sirens closing in, and another realization dawned upon her.

She carefully lifted the woman up, thankful for the augmentations of her armor, as she tried to get distance between this place and the other site.

 

[Aielyn Veralas]

Aielyn drifted in and out of darkness.

She felt nothing at first—weightless, untethered, floating somewhere between consciousness and oblivion. But then, sensations pressed in—the damp chill of the air, the jarring rhythm of footsteps, the firm grip locking around her frame.

She was being carried.

Her senses returned in pieces. The scent of burnt plasma clung to the air, mixed with oil and sweat. A distant hum of engines vibrated against her bones. Somewhere, a distant shout, the hiss of a closing door, the rhythmic clatter of boots against uneven metal.

A bump. A shift. A jolt of pain cut through the fog in her mind.

Her body lurched.

A breath sucked sharply into her lungs, her fingers twitching in response, finding fabric—rough, unfamiliar. She stirred, eyes fluttering open in time to see dim light slicing across a grated ceiling. Metal beams. A corridor? A loading bay? She couldn't tell. Her limbs were heavy, unresponsive, yet her pulse pounded in her ears, rapid and erratic.

And then she remembered.

The fight. The armored figure. The blade.

Panic gripped her throat as she thrashed against the iron hold keeping her aloft, her instincts overriding the last of her sluggishness. She reached for her lightsaber—nothing. Her belt was empty, her weapon gone.

But the Force remained.

She squeezed her eyes shut, pushing past the rush of adrenaline, past the pounding fear threatening to consume her. The cold presence of her captor rippled through the Force—erratic, yet controlled. She focused on them—their weight, their movement, the way their feet struck the ground with each step. Heavy. Balanced. But not invulnerable.

A spark of defiance lit within her.

She didn't need a weapon. The Force was her ally, her shield, her blade.

She exhaled, let go of fear, and pushed.

The unseen current of the Force twisted, wrapping around the figure's legs, pulling at their center of gravity. A shift. A misstep.

She yanked at their momentum.

A single mistake. That's all she needed.

Sable Varro

 

[Sable Varro]

​

Beneath Neon And Blood

Tag: Aielyn Veralas

Deployment Location:

• Primary Target Zone: [Unknown]

Equipment Loadout:

• Primary Weapon(s): SD-L1 Long Blaster
• Secondary Weapon(s): HG-88 Big Iron, VB-113 "Tidefall" Class Vibroblade,
• Specialized Gear: Wrist Mounted Weapons (Hekler'Kok WMMW-01), DS-102 "Aegis" Personal Energy Shield,
• Armor & Attire: Personal Armor

---

---

​

Sable’s mind was a blaze as she runs with the woman in tow, trying to think of what to do next, how to handle things.

The urge had passed and yet, she felt more uncertain than ever now. So busy was she in her thoughts she hadn’t noticed her captive moving, her eagerness to leave had prevented her from securing the woman securely.

Before she knew it, Sable staggered, the sudden pull in the Force catching her mid-stride.

"What the—?"

Her balance faltered—boots skidding on the metal flooring as her weight tipped forward. Aielyn slipped from her grasp just as Sable's heel caught an uneven edge on the grated floor.

The world tilted.

Her shoulder slammed the wall first, metal grinding against armor, and then she hit the deck hard—air knocked from her lungs in a sharp grunt. Pain flared down her ribs and into her elbow where it struck. The clatter echoed down the corridor.

She swore under her breath, sharp and venom-laced, pushing herself onto her hands. Her eyes snapped up, hair falling in strands across her face.

Aielyn was down—but awake. And moving.

Sable's jaw clenched.

"I am…not trying to kill you…." She rasped, voice low and dangerous as she pushed to her feet, eyes narrowing. "Always ends in a fight….."

 

[Aielyn Veralas]

As the two of them tumbled, Aielyn felt herself wrenched free—flung down the corridor like discarded wreckage, her battered form colliding against the durasteel floor in a cascade of tattered armor and loose fabric. The impact sent a jolt through her frame, rattling her bones and driving a pained groan from her lips.

Alive. But hurting.

She lay still for a breath, every nerve in her body alight with protest. The pain was everywhere—flaring in sharp bursts where bruises were already forming, in the dull throb of overextended muscles, in the sting of torn skin beneath the grime of the city. The Force whispered at the edges of her consciousness, a familiar presence—but it did nothing to dull the raw agony gnawing at her limbs.

Gritting her teeth, she pushed herself up onto her elbows, then her knees, every motion an argument between willpower and suffering. Her breath came ragged as she took in her surroundings—disoriented but not helpless. The neon glow from the distant streetlights flickered erratically through the cracked duracrete ceiling, casting uneven shadows along the narrow corridor.

Then, her gaze snapped upward—to the armored figure before her.

Aielyn swayed slightly, steadying herself with one hand against the cold floor before raising the other, palm outward, fingers curled ever so slightly in a practiced motion. The posture of someone preparing to strike—or bluffing at the very least.

A slow smirk ghosted across her lips, though it did little to hide the strain in her expression. "And I don't think that'll happen..."

Her voice was steady, but beneath it, doubt clawed at her. She knew the truth. If this became a straight fight, she would lose. Badly. No Force-enhanced intuition was needed to see that.

But they didn't have to know that.

Not yet.

She had been raised to play a role—princess, diplomat, future ruler. And if there was one thing she had mastered, it was holding her composure when everything inside her screamed otherwise.

For now, bravado would have to suffice.

She squared her shoulders, feigning nonchalance despite the way her body trembled beneath the effort. If she could just stall, find an opening, turn this into something other than a doomed confrontation—then maybe she wouldn't have to find out just how much more punishment she could endure.

Sable Varro

 

[Sable Varro]

​

Beneath Neon And Blood

Tag: Aielyn Veralas

Deployment Location:

• Primary Target Zone: [Unknown]

Equipment Loadout:

• Primary Weapon(s): SD-L1 Long Blaster
• Secondary Weapon(s): HG-88 Big Iron, VB-113 "Tidefall" Class Vibroblade,
• Specialized Gear: Wrist Mounted Weapons (Hekler'Kok WMMW-01), DS-102 "Aegis" Personal Energy Shield,
• Armor & Attire: Personal Armor

---

---

​

Aielyn's bluff didn't go unnoticed—but Sable didn't move. She didn't draw a weapon. Didn't charge. Just stood there, breathing in through her teeth, watching the younger woman with the quiet intensity of a predator gauging a wounded animal.

"You've got some fight in you," she said coolly, rubbing at her knee, though the armor did its job of protecting her shin from the attempt to soothe it. It felt like a muscle sprain, but she ignored it, and moved on. "I'll give you that."

Her gaze flicked to Aielyn's trembling arm, then back to her eyes. "But don't insult me."

Sable stepped forward once, deliberate, slow, in an attempt to give off a sense of control. It was not aimed to be a threat, but rather a reminder.

"You're not in your prime right now. You think I haven't seen that before?" Her voice dipped lower, not mocking, not cruel, just... tired. "You're not the first to try and make defiance look like strength. Won’t be the last either.”

Another step. A faint limp betrayed the fall's impact, but she masked it behind sheer presence.

"Maybe on a good day you take me, beat me bad, and I go off and sulk in a cantina..."

She paused—tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing just a touch.

"But this ain’t a good day, for either of us…so let’s just relax, calm down….and talk…." She sputtered, feeling confident at having read into the woman’s body language, and hoped she could have resolved this conflict between themselves.

 

[Aielyn Veralas]

The weight of the moment pressed down on Aielyn, her frame tense beneath its crushing grip. Behind her—nothing but cold duracrete and a dead end. Before her—dark eyes, assessing, calculating, stripping away her defenses piece by piece. The only escape lay in the window to her right. A long drop, unforgiving.

Not viable. Not like this.

She could feel it now—the way Sable moved. No longer defensive, but something worse. A patient huntress, circling the inevitable, watching her struggle in the snare. Every step, deliberate. Every breath, measured. The lethality in her stance coiled tight, waiting. The moment stretched thin, taut as a thread about to snap.

Aielyn's fingers twitched, a tremor running through her arm before she could stop it. Her body was betraying her. The aftershock of adrenaline hit hard, muscle spasms rolling through her limbs like aftershocks of a quake. Her chest burned, ribs aching from the punishment she'd endured. Her breath was unsteady, but she willed it under control. She had to.

She was bested.

Here.

Now.

But surrender was not an option.

She forced herself to move, just enough—shifting her weight, keeping the predator in her sights. Distance was meaningless in a fight like this. It was a formality. A fragile illusion of control.

"And why," she finally spoke, voice carefully measured despite the tightness in her throat, "should I trust you?"

The words were sharp, but she knew the truth beneath them.

There was no trust here.

Only survival.

Sable Varro

 

[Sable Varro]

​

Beneath Neon And Blood

Tag: Aielyn Veralas

Deployment Location:

• Primary Target Zone: [Unknown]

Equipment Loadout:

• Primary Weapon(s): SD-L1 Long Blaster
• Secondary Weapon(s): HG-88 Big Iron, VB-113 "Tidefall" Class Vibroblade,
• Specialized Gear: Wrist Mounted Weapons (Hekler'Kok WMMW-01), DS-102 "Aegis" Personal Energy Shield,
• Armor & Attire: Personal Armor

---

---

​

Sable didn't answer right away.

She stood still in the silence that followed, the sound of distant swoops and the faint hum of the city swallowed beneath the weight of tension between them. Her expression didn't shift—didn't soften. If anything, it sharpened.

Not cruel. Just precise.

"I don't recall offering trust," She said, low and even, every word sliding out like a blade drawn slowly from its sheath. "I'm not here to earn it. I'm here because you're still breathing—and because you're not foolish enough to mistake that for kindness."

She took another step forward, slow and deliberate. Her shadow stretched long under the flickering light, casting jagged shapes across the duracrete wall behind Aielyn.

"I’m trying to get us out of this mess-" Her eyes narrowed, gaze piercing. "Listen, right now? Screw trust. Trust is for people who have options. Right now, you've got me—and whatever is around that corner-"

Sable's voice dipped, colder now.

"I didn't bring you out here to hurt you, alright? I didn’t come here to hurt anyone-this just- this wasn’t supposed to happen-"

Another beat of silence. Then her tone shifted—less icy, more grounded, blunt with unspoken urgency.

"So. What's it going to be? Another desperate lunge before you pass out again, or you going to listen to me for a minute?”

She tilted her head slightly, a grim hint of dry humor brushing the edge of her voice.

"We both are in a bad way right now…so, can we call a truce…and call me Dopple…."

She finally settles down, trying to stretch out the strain caused in her leg. She really hoped the woman wouldn’t try anything foolish now.

 

[Aielyn Veralas]

Aielyn's breath was steady, controlled, but each inhale carried the weight of exhaustion. The pain that knotted through her ribs was persistent—a dull, throbbing reminder that she was still here, still bleeding, still standing.

Her fingers flexed at her side, not in threat, but in silent defiance, as if clinging to some final shred of agency.

She let the words hang in the space between them, let them sink in like ink into parchment.

Then, finally—

"Screw trust," she echoed, the words a quiet exhale, like smoke curling through cold air. Her gaze flickered, assessing the woman before her. Doppel. A title offered in place of truth.

She swallowed, shifting her weight, though the movement sent a sharp ache blooming through her side. Her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Fine." A reluctant concession. Not surrender. Never surrender.

But for now—survival.

Sable Varro

 

[Sable Varro]

​

Beneath Neon And Blood

Tag: Aielyn Veralas

Deployment Location:

• Primary Target Zone: [Unknown]

Equipment Loadout:

• Primary Weapon(s): SD-L1 Long Blaster
• Secondary Weapon(s): HG-88 Big Iron, VB-113 "Tidefall" Class Vibroblade,
• Specialized Gear: Wrist Mounted Weapons (Hekler'Kok WMMW-01), DS-102 "Aegis" Personal Energy Shield,
• Armor & Attire: Personal Armor

---

---

​

Her head tilted just slightly, a faint nod. "Smart choice," She said at last, her voice low and dry, though relief came through her. "Now…if you would be so kind…."

She continues to stretch for several seconds, working out the discomfort in her strained leg. Scanning their surroundings once more like a soldier returning to formation after a skirmish, Sable couldn’t help but notice the sirens seemed to be growing closer. Her fingers tapped once against the leg of her armor.

She rose, and moved to help the woman to her feet if she needed it.
"Get up. You don't want to be lying here, this won’t be great."

Then just like that, she started walking, cloak catching the dim light with each step, as she sought to put distance between themselves and this place.

 

[Aielyn Veralas]

Aielyn exhaled, shifting her weight carefully before pushing herself upright. Her limbs protested, the strain evident in the way she steadied herself before taking a step. She didn't ask for help, but there was a flicker of gratitude in her glance toward Sable.

The sirens were closer now, their wailing urgency threading unease through the air. Her fingers brushed instinctively at the fabric of her cloak, a grounding motion, as she took in their surroundings. She didn't know the streets, the escape routes, or how much time they had before things turned worse. But standing still wasn't an option.

Her voice was quieter when she spoke, carrying a touch of uncertainty beneath its steady rhythm. "And where exactly are we going?" A pause, measured but not hesitant. "Or do we just start moving and hope we find the right direction before the wrong one finds us?"

Sable Varro

 

[Sable Varro]

​

Beneath Neon And Blood

Tag: Aielyn Veralas

Deployment Location:

• Primary Target Zone: [Denon]

Equipment Loadout:

• Primary Weapon(s): SD-L1 Long Blaster
• Secondary Weapon(s): HG-88 Big Iron, VB-113 "Tidefall" Class Vibroblade,
• Specialized Gear: Wrist Mounted Weapons (Hekler'Kok WMMW-01), DS-102 "Aegis" Personal Energy Shield,
• Armor & Attire: Personal Armor

---

---

​

Sable didn't answer right away.

She watched Aielyn rise, the subtle tremor in her limbs not lost on her. The flicker of gratitude in that glance was acknowledged, but not returned—not out of coldness, but focus. Sable was already scanning the narrow skyline, tracking the echo of sirens as they bounced off the walls, drawing a phantom-map of their approach in her mind.

Her stance remained poised, but not relaxed. She gave another moment to ponder before she spoke.

"Well, staying here will gets us in trouble," She said flatly, tone quiet but iron-edged. "And there's no such thing as the right direction, right now. Only the one that keeps us breathing longer than the last."

She finally turned her head toward Aielyn, visor glinting faintly in the dim, flickering light.

"We won’t run blind though," She continued. "Not if I can help it. There's a freight conduit two blocks east—old maintenance tunnel, half-collapsed but still passable. It'll put distance between us and Corsec patrol."

A low rumble echoed from somewhere overhead. She wasn’t sure if it was related, but it didn’t make her feel any better.

Sable's voice dropped, sharper now. "But we don't have time to second-guess. Stick with me, and we can talk once we’re concealed."

Without another word, she pivoted, cloak flicking behind her as she started down a shadowed alley. She didn't look back—just trusted that Aielyn would follow. Because hesitation didn't survive long in places like this. And neither did sentiment.

But as her bootfalls echoed down the passage, she spoke again, soft, just loud enough to be heard.

“What happened inside that place was an accident."

Then it was gone. And Sable was moving again, trying to stay out of the lights of the approaching airspeeders, sirens slowly getting louder as search lights scanned the area they were now departing.

 

[Aielyn Veralas]

Aielyn's jaw tightened, but she followed.

One step, then another—each movement carrying her further from the place where it all began, yet offering no sense of grounding in where she was going. Her breath came steady, controlled, but inside, she felt that creeping edge of frustration coil at the base of her spine.

She had no quarrel with running, no hesitation in moving forward, yet… was that all there was? Keep moving? Survive? Stay ahead just long enough to take another step?

It wasn't enough.

Aielyn exhaled, slow and measured, matching Sable's pace but resisting the urgency that clawed at the edges of it. She cast one last glance behind them, the sirens still pressing in, before shifting her gaze ahead.

"Sohlen varai—tenarith valen?" The words left her lips fluidly, her accent tracing the syllables like a lingering note in a song. She didn't bother translating, not this time.

Her voice didn't rise in protest, but there was something in it—something unspoken, not quite defiance, not quite resignation.

Just… waiting.

For an answer. For something more than just the next step forward.

Sable Varro

 

[Sable Varro]

​

Beneath Neon And Blood

Tag: Aielyn Veralas

Deployment Location:

• Primary Target Zone: [Denon]

Equipment Loadout:

• Primary Weapon(s): SD-L1 Long Blaster
• Secondary Weapon(s): HG-88 Big Iron, VB-113 "Tidefall" Class Vibroblade,
• Specialized Gear: Wrist Mounted Weapons (Hekler'Kok WMMW-01), DS-102 "Aegis" Personal Energy Shield,
• Armor & Attire: Personal Armor

---

---

​

The path ahead was a blur of muted lights, the occasional flicker casting jagged shadows across the walls. Sirens wailed faintly in the distance, but even they seemed to be fading, as if they belonged to another world entirely. Sable pushed onward, each step an act of defiance against the weight of what had come before. She had no intention of slowing down—not for the moment.

Sable had no clue what the woman had said to her, nor did she exactly care at this moment.

Her chest tightened with the strain of it, but she forced the sensation away, buried it beneath the steady rhythm of her footfalls. There was only one direction now. Forward.

And yet, as they moved deeper into the labyrinthine corridors, there was a part of her that wondered—just for a second—what would happen if she stopped. What would happen if she looked back, if she turned and faced what had been left behind? Would it make a difference? Would it change anything?

But that thought didn't linger long. It was quickly swallowed by the sound of her boots striking the hard surface.

She didn't stop.

The conduit that Sable had mentioned looked up ahead, and once inside, the pair would able to have a moment of safety, and a little bit of time to discuss.

 

[Aielyn Veralas]

The wail of sirens barely reached her ears anymore, muffled by the thrum of her own pulse. Aielyn kept close to Sable, her breath steady but her mind a tangle of thoughts she had no time to sort through. The flickering lights overhead cast brief glimpses of their path, fractured and unreliable, making the space ahead feel more uncertain than it already was.

She wasn't sure what had been said moments before—her mind hadn't latched onto it. Maybe it wasn't important. Or maybe she had simply let it slip past her in the rush to keep moving. Either way, she didn't ask. Not yet.

Her fingers twitched at her sides, the tension threading through her limbs as she pushed forward. The corridors felt like they were tightening, the air thick, pressing. There was no choice but to keep going. No reason to stop.

And yet, for just a breath, the thought crept in: What if she did?

Would anything change if she turned back? If she looked, if she faced it? Or would she just see what she already knew—what couldn't be undone?

Aielyn swallowed hard and pushed the thought away before it could settle.

Ahead, the conduit Sable had mentioned came into view, a pocket of momentary safety amid the endless press of walls. Aielyn exhaled, slower this time, barely aware she'd been holding her breath at all.

Her voice was quieter when she spoke. "This it?" A question, not quite uncertain—but not commanding, either.

Because for all the strength in her steps, she was still figuring this out.

Sable Varro

 

[Sable Varro]

​

Beneath Neon And Blood

Tag: Aielyn Veralas

Deployment Location:

• Primary Target Zone: [Denon]

Equipment Loadout:

• Primary Weapon(s): SD-L1 Long Blaster
• Secondary Weapon(s): HG-88 Big Iron, VB-113 "Tidefall" Class Vibroblade,
• Specialized Gear: Wrist Mounted Weapons (Hekler'Kok WMMW-01), DS-102 "Aegis" Personal Energy Shield,
• Armor & Attire: Personal Armor

---

---

Sable didn't answer right away.

Her stride didn't break, didn't falter. The corridor narrowed, shadows stretching long and jagged along the metal walls as the overhead lights flickered in their slow, dying rhythm. But she kept moving like she'd walked this route a hundred times—each step deliberate, sure, untouched by hesitation.

At the end of the corridor, the conduit finally revealed itself—a jagged seam in the architecture, easily missed by anyone not looking for it. The doorway wasn't a door at all, just a recessed panel half-swallowed by grime and old scorch marks. A maintenance route, long forgotten and likely condemned by whoever last updated the building schematics.

It was narrow—claustrophobically so—and the scent hit first: old coolant, scorched circuitry, and something faintly metallic like dried blood on steel. The walls inside were ribbed with conduit pipework, insulated power lines, and exposed cables that snaked like veins through the dim passage. Overhead, the ceiling dipped low enough that even Sable had to duck slightly to avoid hitting it. Faint lights pulsed weakly along the spine of the corridor, not meant to illuminate so much as to signal that the systems here still breathed—barely.

This was no escape route designed for people.

It was a space for ghosts—things meant to be unseen, unheard, and forgotten.

Sable slowed only long enough to kneel beside a side panel, her hands moving with the practiced rhythm of someone who knew exactly where to press. The false plate clicked loose beneath her fingers, revealing a narrow access hatch sunk beneath the floor grating—its edges worn, the interior coated in soot and shadow.

"This is it," She said, voice quiet but certain. No reassurance. No comfort. Just fact.

She didn't wait for an answer before continuing—lowering herself through the hatch and disappearing into the dark below like it was second nature.

"Stay low in the first corridor, ceiling is low bearing," She said, voice echoing softly from beneath. "We’ll be fine in here, just old electrical systems that people installed here decades ago. They were meant for infiltration."

Still no glance back. No pause to see if Aielyn followed. She just assumed she did.

Sable just kept moving forward. “I guess we are both having a rough time today.”

 

[Aielyn Veralas]

Aielyn watched her disappear into the dark. No hesitation, no pause—just forward motion, the kind that came from knowing exactly where you were going, or at least pretending you did. Shadows stretched long over the walls, flickering in time with the faint, dying pulse of the overhead lights. The conduit exhaled stale air, thick with dust and the scent of old machinery long since abandoned.

She stepped forward, following.

The narrow passage pressed close, the walls ribbed with conduit lines and power cables that hummed faintly beneath her fingertips. It was different from the open expanse of the wilds or the towering ruins she had known—this was a space designed to swallow people whole, to make them unseen, unheard, forgotten. A place not meant to be traversed, but endured.

Aielyn adjusted, shifting low as the ceiling dipped, her movements instinctive but cautious. "Infiltration?" The word left her lips soft, but edged with curiosity. "Then you already know how these spaces breathe."

The air between them was thick, not just with old dust, but with something unspoken. "Rough time, indeed." A pause, her tone unreadable. "Though I suspect you've been moving like this far longer than I have."

She didn't question where they were going—not yet. The path ahead was already narrowing, and sometimes, the only choice was forward.

Sable Varro

 

[Sable Varro]

​

Beneath Neon And Blood

Tag: Aielyn Veralas

Deployment Location:

• Primary Target Zone: [Denon]

Equipment Loadout:

• Primary Weapon(s): SD-L1 Long Blaster
• Secondary Weapon(s): HG-88 Big Iron, VB-113 "Tidefall" Class Vibroblade,
• Specialized Gear: Wrist Mounted Weapons (Hekler'Kok WMMW-01), DS-102 "Aegis" Personal Energy Shield,
• Armor & Attire: Personal Armor

---

---

Sable didn't look back.

Her silhouette flickered in the dim corridor ahead, the low ceiling forcing her to move in a crouch, shoulder brushing against the insulated pipework as she passed. The scent of rust and scorched copper was thick, clinging like a second skin. She didn't respond at first—not audibly, anyway. Just the quiet rhythm of her boots over metal grating, steady and unflinching.

Only after a few more paces did her voice cut through the narrow dark.

"Infiltration, exfiltration, sabotage, extraction—all sorts of names for it."

Her tone was low, muted by the walls but edged with something older, worn and weathered like a knife used too many times.

"I guess…I’m just used to doing this sort of thing, you know?"

She ducked beneath a sagging conduit, fingers brushing briefly against the metal for balance. Her movements were practiced, but not elegant—mechanical, stripped down to function over form.

"I've crawled through worse. Spent weeks in vents smaller than this. Rooms where the walls sweat heat and the air smells like melting wires." A short pause, then quieter: "If you’re scared of closed spaces, just find a happy spot and stay there."

She glanced back only once—briefly, her eyes unreadable in the flickering gloom. Not searching for reassurance. Just checking that Aielyn was still there.

Then forward again.

"You get used to it," She said, though it wasn't clear if she was trying to reassure Aielyn or remind herself.

She kept moving forward. “How are you feeling? You passed out on me earlier.”