Private Break It To Make It

[Natima Vando]

Location: Mustafar, Abandoned Mining Facility
Tags: Alana Calloway


The heat was oppressive, even through the shielding of the platform. Mustafar's blackened rock and molten veins stretched into the distance, the air shimmering with the constant, restless motion of the planet's infernal rivers.

Natima Vando stood near the edge of a jagged overlook, clad in light combat armor that bore no insignia, no clear allegiance. It was practical, made for movement—exactly what she expected of her apprentice.

Her current face, a sharp-featured woman with red hair tied back, was set in a neutral expression. Green eyes, keen and patient, flicked toward the entrance to the platform. Alana was late.

Not by much. But late was late.

Natima didn't check a chrono. Didn't move. Instead, she ran one gloved hand over the small vibroblade at her belt, as if reacquainting herself with the feel of it. A subtle reminder.

This wasn't a lesson in punctuality. This was a test.

She listened for the approach, the shift of boots against metal, the telltale weight in a step that gave away a person's state of mind. When Alana arrived, Natima finally turned, her voice as smooth as durasteel cooled in the dark.

"You're slower than I expected." A pause. A slight tilt of the head, assessing. "But that's good. It means you're cautious. Careful. Or it means you're uncertain."

She took a single step forward, posture relaxed, but there was no mistaking the predator in her stance.

Several of her vibroknifes lined her left side, ready for use. The skin of her elbows remained exposed, ready to shift and draw the blades when she deemed necessary, but for now, it was merely an interview.

"So which is it?"

 

[Alana Calloway]

.​

Break It To Make It​

Tags: Natima Vando​

Armor:
N/A

Weapons:
HG-88 Big Iron
SD-L1 Long Blaster
HESTIZO-201 "Silverrain" Vaccine
1 x VB-113 "Tidefall" Class Vibroblade
Gear:
Slicing Glove
DS-102 "Aegis" Personal Energy Shield
Sentinel Tech Gloves
VKA-7J "Hurricane" Combat Stimulant
G1 Omni Link

Alana's boots scraped against the metal of the platform as she stepped onto it, the weight of her pack shifting with each movement. The heat had been unbearable out there, the cracked volcanic landscape unforgiving. She was covered in soot, her once-pristine uniform now a dull, grimy mess. Sweat clung to the back of her neck, trickling down her spine.

Her breath came in slow, steady pulls, but there was no mistaking the weariness in her posture. The journey had taken more out of her than she cared to admit—Mustafar was a hellscape, but it was the training, the constant testing that drained her. She came to a halt, finding her instructor standing there with all the self righteousness she expected an assassin to have.

She could feel Natima's eyes on her the moment she stepped into view.

Alana didn't rush, didn't try to act as if she wasn't exhausted. She set her pack down with a grunt, the strain in her movements telling enough of the story. Her hands were smudged, but the gleam in her red eyes didn't waver.

She squared her shoulders, lifting her chin just enough to meet Natima's gaze, still brimming with the quiet defiance she couldn't shake. She wasn't about to make excuses.

"Uncertain," She replied, the word lingering in the air. A beat passed, and she allowed herself a small smirk, though it was tempered with the weight of her tiredness. "But I'll get there."

She stood still for a moment, letting the silence settle.

"Not bad for a first run, huh?" She added dryly, brushing the soot from her sleeve. "You really enjoy this, don't you? I mean, nothing seems to bother you now, huh?"

It wasn't a question—it was an observation. A challenge wrapped in a layer of sarcasm.

One she was certain would result in a smack down.

 

[Natima Vando]

Natima tilted her head, watching Alana with the slow, unblinking patience of a predator sizing up its prey.

She saw the exhaustion, the grime, the strain in her muscles as she dropped the pack. She heard the weariness beneath the bravado, the quiet defiance simmering just beneath the surface.

And she smirked.

Not out of amusement.

Not even out of cruelty.

But because this was the moment she had been waiting for.

"You think I enjoy this?" She mused, stepping forward, boots barely making a sound against the platform. Her voice was soft, too soft, the kind of softness that promised something sharp beneath.

She reached out, slow and deliberate, and without ceremony, wiped a streak of soot from Alana's cheek with the pad of her thumb. It was almost a gesture of familiarity. Almost something intimate. But to Natima, it was a mark.

But then she pressed—just lightly—just enough to make a point.

"If I enjoyed it," she murmured, leaning in, her green eyes gleaming in the dim light, "You'd be dead."

She let the words settle, let the weight of them press down before pulling back.

Then—she laughed. A short, sharp exhale, as if she were letting Alana in on some kind of private joke.

"But I do like seeing you crawl back in one piece."

Her smirk widened, the ghost of something knowing flickering behind her gaze.

"Uncertain," she echoed, as if testing the word. Then she scoffed, shaking her head. "That won't do. You'll get there? You better."

She turned on her heel, the motion crisp, controlled. A hand flicked in the air—dismissive, yet expectant.

"Get yourself ready," She called over her shoulder. "Then we'll see how much of that defiance is still standing."

And just like that, she was gone.

If Alana didn't think quickly, she would be as well.

 

[Alana Calloway]

.​

Break It To Make It​

Tags: Natima Vando​

Armor:
N/A

Weapons:
HG-88 Big Iron
SD-L1 Long Blaster
HESTIZO-201 "Silverrain" Vaccine
1 x VB-113 "Tidefall" Class Vibroblade
Gear:
Slicing Glove
DS-102 "Aegis" Personal Energy Shield
Sentinel Tech Gloves
VKA-7J "Hurricane" Combat Stimulant
G1 Omni Link

Alana exhaled sharply through her nose, barely suppressing the instinctual flicker of irritation. That woman had a way of getting under her skin, of pressing just the right buttons to make her feel watched—like a specimen under a microscope, her reactions cataloged for later use.

She ran a hand through her soot-streaked hair, letting out a dry chuckle.

"You'll get there? You better."

Damn her. She hated how much she liked the way Natima said it. Like she already knew the answer.

Alana rolled her shoulders, shaking off the lingering weight of exhaustion. The aches, the heat, the sand that had worked its way into her boots—none of it mattered now. Natima had set the pace. And Alana wasn't about to fall behind.

She grabbed her pack, slinging it over her shoulder with a grunt. Whatever the Shi'ido had planned next, Alana would be ready. Or at least, she'd look like she was.

Then she realized, Natima was gone.

Not the kind of gone where she simply walked away.

No footsteps. No sound. No trace.

Just—gone.

Her fingers twitched instinctively toward her belt, hovering near the grip of her pistol. The weight of her pack suddenly felt like a liability, something that would slow her down if this turned into a real fight.

And she knew it would.

Natima had been testing her from the moment they met. Not just with words, not just with the grueling hell she'd been thrown into on Mustafar—but now. Now, when she was tired, weighed down, just enough off-balance for Natima to see if she'd fall.

Alana wasn't about to give her that satisfaction.

She moved. Not quickly—Natima would expect panic. She wouldn't give her that, either.

Instead, she took a slow, deliberate step back, shifting her stance, loosening her shoulders. Eyes scanning the shadows, her breathing steady. The Shi'ido could be anywhere. Could be anything.

Alana knew better than to rely on sight alone.

She closed her eyes for half a second, reaching out—not with the Force, not in some grand display of power, but in the way a predator listens for its hunter.

The air was still.

Too still.

Her fingers curled around her pistol grip, her hand reached for her vibroblade as she began a slow retreat.

She was not about to get caught flat-footed.