Private Chapter I: The Korriban Gambit

[Damien Dooku]

CHAPTER I: THE KORRIBAN GAMBIT​

A year before the events on Jedha.​

​

Several days within the settlement of Dreshdae had left Damien in a much more foul mood than usual. It was a dying settlement filled with the likes of individuals that were not that far off from his own diverse resume of professions- which was fine, and definitely not the part which kept him on edge. Having arrived on the world at the behest of his current employers, Damien had resolved himself to taking care of business as soon as possible, and vanishing without a trace thereafter. What his employers had failed to mention was the fact that the target of his contract had been more connected with the local crime syndicates than he was led to believe, prompting an overreaction which led to the predicament that he was in now.

It was a simple enough job- Damien sauntered his way into the portly Twilek's establishment, The Drunk Side Cantina, and ingratiated himself with the local thugs and gangsters who made it their home. A wild night of drinking and gambling ensued, and through the inebriated revelry of the group he found himself now with, Damien was able to observe his target for every little weakness and vulnerability he put on display. Overconfidence proved abundant, but the man's security proved to be opposite. It also didn't help the man's case when he decided to consume much more of his own supply of alcohol than your average Cantina owner should, meaning the Twi'lek had a habit of waddling his huge self off to the restroom to piss like a bantha on a hot day.

This cycle of faux revelry and reconnaissance continued into the night, and would come to an end the moment both opportunity and patience delivered to him on a plate. He stumbled off to the restroom not long after the Twi'lek had did the same, and much to his delight the man's bodyguards proved far too indulgent in the dancing trio of slaves who reenergized following a large tip from Damien-- for his newfound friends of course. What had been a stumbling, drunken human would fluidly shift to sobriety as soon as the doors shut behind him, his boots moving quietly against the tile as he inched towards the stall to his front.

The door to the stall forced its way open within an instant, slamming directly against the Twilek's knees with an audible pop coming from one of them at the least. Damien moved with the swiftness of a Noghir as he yanked the now half-unhinged door outwards, and shoved his hand over the Twi'lek's mouth to muffle the agonizing scream the man's broken kneecap had triggered. Damien eyed his peripheral, waiting to see if the guards had picked up anything over the music.

Seconds passed, but only the sound of the portly man's muffled pain and terror could be heard. His lips curled ever-so gently into a smirk as he returned his gaze towards the seated man, and he slowly brought a single finger against his own lips. The gesture appeared gentle until the Twi'lek peered into his assailants eyes, peering deep into the orange orbs that commanded his silence, lest his chances of living become even more fleeting. The muffled screams of terror gradually descended into a whimpering, pitiless series of moans, and the hand which covered his mouth would lift off.

"Mister Bondana-- I would say it's a pleasure, but our business demands otherwise." Pleasant as his tone seemed to convey, the Twi'lek's response oozed with the fear that coursed through his veins at that moment. "Wha-what do you want!? I-I can pay you double- no, tr-tri-triple whoever is paying you!"

His index finger tapped gently against Damien's lips as he audibly shushed the man this time around. "If it were as simple as you paying me more credits than my employer, then what would be the need of a middle-man such as myself, eh?"

The man tried to respond, but found himself cut off from speaking by the human towering over him. "Your associates off-world have already confessed to you being the head of the snake, my friend. Now let me see.." He counted idly in his head. "Roughly a hundred pounds of refined spice, with another double that in unrefined spice simply disappeared off the face of the map a few weeks back." The man's eyes lost a bit of the life in them as he processed the reason behind his impromptu meeting with his interrogator. "All I need is a location." Damien continued, and he stepped back just enough to allow the man the breathing room to comprehend his next action carefully.

Silence followed for a few breaths, the sounds of revelry and music reverbing through the walls behind them. "I... i-its.. I have a warehouse-- outside of Dreshdae. I-i-i can give you the coordinates.. just please-- let me go!"

A single hand extended outwards, and the twi'lek scrambled into the folds of his jacket to retrieve a miniature datapad from within. Damien snatched it from the man's hands and went to work on confirming if it was true or not. The light on the screen flashed within his eyes as he scrolled from one file to the next, slowly piecing together just how a lowly Cantina owner had pulled off the scheme that he did. "I see.." Damien said out loud, though not to the Twi'lek or anyone in particular. "Thank you."

Hope filled Mister Bondana's eyes, perhaps the weight of imminent death beginning the process of leaving his mind. The muffled sound of a suppressed slugthrower brought the rising feeling of hope to an immediate stop, and Bondana processed the warmth which trickled slowly down his chest. Three more silenced shots followed, forming a ring of neat circular holes between the man's lungs, but intentionally missing his heart as if to keep him alive just long enough to see Damien lean forwards and whisper into his ear.

"Black Sun sends its regards, Mr. Bondana. Don't worry, this debt ends here- your family will not be touched."

Damien took a step back, his sight never once leaving the Twilek's own. He raised the pistol to the man's face and pulled the trigger once more, the final slug knocking the man's head back against the back of the wall and ending his suffering.

Damien pocketed the datapad and walked towards the door, his posture shifting more slack, and each step accruing the gait of an inebriated man as he exited the restroom. He appeared to be in the process of fixing his fly as the guards turned to look at him, then proceeded to go back to ignoring him in favor of the women who captivated the room. Damien stumbled his way across the Cantina until he'd made his way out into the sun-kissed evening air. He took in a deep breath, then steadied himself once he was out of sight, and quickly moving further away from the scene of his handiwork, curving his way through the city's slums and alleyways on a mostly direct path to the spaceport to Dreshdae's north.

It was all going oh so smooth, until the precise moment that, well, it just didn't.

The moment Damien reached the edge of the slums that bordered the spaceport, he found himself greeted by the sight of a Devaronian exuding authority, and a mixture of near-humans who all leveled their weapons in his direction. An alarm sounded out that seemed to envelop the entire city in seconds, echoing through the slums and merchant districts alike, leaving no room in his mind that their actions were anything but coincidental. He had only a brief moment to take in the emblem stitched into their clothing, and tattooed on their bodies, as his next course of action demanded him to leap behind the trashed landspeeder that was his only source of protection.

The evening sky flashed as their weapons peppered and slammed around him, but he was lucky enough that the local trash weren't the trained killers that he was used to in other parts of the Outer Rim. With no time to get into a protracted gunfight against that many people, Damien did the next best thing he could think of to even the odds just enough to make an escape. He unclipped a small sphere from his belt and rolled it beneath the landspeeder pressed against his back, keeping his head down patiently as the device activated, and began to track the nearest group of gangsters. A loud explosion rang out before he knew it, followed by the harrowing sounds of sentients screaming in pain as their flesh was peppered with shrapnel that embedded itself deep.

Go. He kicked off from the landspeeder and dived back into the alley from which he'd come, scurrying to his feet as what few who weren't killed or maimed continued to fire at them in favor of stabilizing their comrades. Damien wouldn't look back-- he couldn't afford to, and so he kept on moving, cutting from street to alley until he'd lost his bearings entirely. Eventually he found himself in an abandoned part of the slums altogether, aside from the occasional spice-induced zombie who shambled their way up and down the main street. Damien pried open the door of the nearest abandoned house and made his way up to the rooftop with his communicator in hand.

"If you can hear me R4, now's about the time for you to start flying and gunning down everything between you and me that shoots in your direction."

The droid took a moment to respond, and through a series of overly drawn out notes and tones it would make it clear that it wasn't an option this time around. It switched its feed to the outside camera onboard Damien's starfighter, displaying the multitude of thugs who appeared to be in a stand-off with the parked starfighter, for lack of a better way to put it. A final set of noises were given by the droid, though it amounted to R4 simply telling Damien to just figure it out himself, before it cut down the connection.

Damien sighed deeply as he pressed his back against the edge of the roof, letting his eyes shift upwards towards the stars in an attempt to focus on anything but the shitstorm that his employers had landed him in. He still had his blaster, and for the time being neither his ship nor his droid were slagged into scrap metal, which still gave him a fighting shot. His eyes closed shut for a moment, his thoughts veering off towards a place where they had not gone since a time long before the scum & villainy of the underworld became his daily norm. The echoes of something he'd long since left behind sparked within, latching onto every part of his being and connecting him to something-- no, someone, though he failed to narrow down just who it was.

"This is not where your story ends, Damien."

The voice resonated into his thoughts, forming audible words from a source he could not find, with a voice that was both unfamiliar, but brought him the comfort he needed to ease his nerves. His eyelids slowly lifted open, revealing the burdgeoning starry night which began to form.

"Take what you're given-- and make it enough to survive."

The echo began to fade from his mind, and the connection which bound him to whoever it was had once again tapered off to where it was before. His hand wrapped around his blaster's grip as he steadied himself against the walled edge of the roof once more, resolved to not sit and wait for a rescue which would not come.

"R4." He brought the communicator to his lips, the astromech quizzically chiming back at him.

"Keep the engine primed-- I'm coming for you soon."


Kyric

 

[Kyric]

"Is that..." Kyric paused midway down the street, his hands tucked in his jacket pockets as he spotted a rather familiar sight. Well. Familiar once, anyway.

What had to be a group of street toughs and back alley goons encircled a well-maintained ERA-2 JSF starfighter. Kyric should have walked away immediately. The black and gray durasteel plating of his errant brother's ship could not be mistaken for any other vessel in the galaxy. Lucien Dooku had a certain sense of aesthetic that even the young kiffar could still appreciate.

Turn around, boy. You know damn well foolin' around with Auteme's boy ain't gonna do you any good.

Kyric rolled his eyes. I promised her I wouldn't come home empty-handed. Besides, Damien is her son. I'm the tagalong. He shifted destinations from his hangar to the now-heavily fortified hangar.

"Hey, guys!" Kyric waved a hand. "You wouldn't happen to know the owner of that ship, would ye?"

A barrel-chested near-human turned to Kyric's casual introduction. Two twi'lek and a gangly, stooped wookie followed in his wake.

"Beat it, kid," the man said.

"Hey, look," Kyric took another step closer. Half a dozen blasters were leveled on him in various states of speed. "Whoa. Whoa..." He raised his hands. "The owner of that ship owes me creds. He stiffed me on a job back on Nar Shaddaa. I'm not askin' for a cut, here, just a chance to show him why you don't screw with Harlow 'Bonebreaker' Jones."

By the force, Kyr. You're an idiot.

The human looked conflicted, like an extra pair of hands really could make the difference. Kyric grinned and pressed the issue. "Maybe I can help hunt him down." The force was interwoven into his words, subtly prodding the man's thoughts to the kiffar's design.

"You know what..." He looked at the twi'lek. "Go let the boss know we've got any extra head." Digging into his pocket, the man withdrew a small holopad. "This device will show you his location. He doesn't know it, but one of the dancers bugged him when he first got into the bar. Slow him down if you can't kill him yourself."

"Pfft," Kyric grinned. "Please. Harlow Jones never misses his man."

Damien Dooku

 

[Damien Dooku]

R4 couldn't believe his optical lens, though it was entirely possible that the boy had just forgotten to clean it off in recent days. Traveling these backwater stars near and around Korriban meant visiting many a planet with arid, or just outright damaging weather to a being of his sensitive creation. If it were possible, the droid would've sighed, as it manifested as a drawn out, almost confused-sounded drone from its audio suite. The droid followed the newcomer closely, its magnification lens zooming in on their face, downloading its facial scans into its records to cross-reference the familiarity inside of its drives.

Eureka!

Was.. that Ryv? Did the Force bring his master's companion to save his son during the most trying times of their shared existence? Thank the engineers which created it!

Having resigned itself to letting Damien figure the situation on his own as a means of 'training', or so his master called it, R4 would feel conflicted all of a sudden it would seem. Its neural processors had suffered some damage over the years, but the dilemma of interrupting an opportunity for the younger Master to grow, or to follow the will of the force appeared to be a trial of its own. It chimed a series of low, thoughtful beats to itself, confused and unsure if whether to bridge Master Jedi Ryv and young Damien together.

A familiar man appeared next to Master Jedi Ryv. R4's optical lens flared with light, several notes mixing together into an excited sing-song of binary. R4 called out to him, letting him know just how much he'd missed the youthful adventures of many years passed. The man simply smiled, and beckoned R4 with a single thought towards the right path forwards.

Their reunion proved short. R4 droned a sorrowful song as he watched the man fade, and for the second time in its existence, watched its Master go with the force. It was quiet for a time, even as Master Ryv set off with the thugs who had the gall to point their ineffective weapons at his Master's treasured starfighter.

If R4 possessed organic optic lenses himself, it would squint in disgust at the humanoids, but instead it would resign itself to setting aside its grudges, and opening a line to the young master instead.

Damien cocked an eyebrow at R4 as his facial scan appeared on the screen. "What is it, R4?!" R4 was ready to put the young master in his place until the sounds of blaster fire buzzed over the audio link. <"I have spotted Master Ryv-- I am certain he has come to save you!">

The eyebrow cocked up even further from Damien's side. "Master..who-- what?" Damien whipped around, his arm extended outwards as he delivered a volley of bolts down what appeared to be an alley of some kind. "R4, you must be mistaken, Ry--" He paused, whipping his hand to the right, letting the spent magazine eject to the ground before inserting a new one. "...Master Ryv is dead.. Been dead for a while."

R4 chimed back with confusion, and asserted that Master Ryv had arrived, and was busy using guile and 'Jedi Trickery' to save him. Damien rolled his eyes, apparently in the middle of finishing up the gunfight. "Wonderful news, R4! Now how 'bout you keep working on priming those engines for launch, yeah? Had to relocate-- slums are getting a bit too hot."

From R4's perspective, this fact would be solidified as the holocommunicator briefly cuts its feed. Off comms the scoundrel had just finished throwing himself through a window, and twisted himself into a fighting position pressed against the side of the window.

He was a good enough shot to take 'em out as they came, and he hoped to kill enough of them to draw their numbers away from the hangar-- giving R4 the opportunity to come into play.

R4, for what it's worth, had assumed this was the young master's plan. He was too similar to the master, in more ways than he ever would admit. From within Master Ryv's pocket, the slight ring of his communicator could be heard chiming away.


<"Master Ryv! I have sent you the Young Master's location. The Master wants him to grow up! ...but..."> It thinks back to who he just saw moments before, right next to Master Jedi Ryv, like the times before. <"The Master wants you to help him. Please, Master Jedi, just this once.">

And with that message sent, it would return to idling, priming the engines, and preparing to blast the onlookers if they came any close.


Kyric

 

[Kyric]

A single, sharp beep called Kyric's attention as someone, or something, found his communicator's frequency. He moved to tuck a few loose strands of hair behind his ear, simultaneously brushing against the earpiece fitted into his ear. The familiar HUD programmed into the viewing lenses Dagon gave him materialized over the scene.

Good evening, sir. Arthur, his personal AI, greeted him. It has been 752 days since you last donned the Mask. The automated message played out, a directive the kiffar designed as a deterrent. I am surprised you have a need for me, Scion.

Kyric said nothing. He focused on a small icon on the periphery of his vision, pulling it into focus. His communicator buzzed alongside the vibrating icon labeled D.D.D.D.

You have to answer it.

Kyric shoved his hands into his pockets. I know. He looked back at the toughs who were still following him. Their near-human leader still appeared under the trappings of the kiffar's force enthrallment. Kyric focused a little bit more energy into renewing and strengthening the effect. It wouldn't do anyone good if he had to deal with an angry thrall.

Here goes nothing. He blinked twice, engaging the line between Damien's ship and himself.

<"Master Ryv! I have sent you the Young Master's location. The Master wants him to grow up! ...but...">

Master Ryv? Kyric fought the urge to turn back to the ship immediately. They have R4! Shit... Ah- dammit, D! There were far and few droids anywhere near as precious to the kiffar as the Chieftain. R4 was one of those rare exceptions.

<"The Master wants you to help him. Please, Master Jedi, just this once.">

They spent countless hours running around Auteme's estate. Damien, R4, BD, and Kyric. A day didn't go by where they didn't get into trouble, either at school or at home with her staff. If R4 was concerned for Damien's well-being, so much so that he needed Kyric's father to help fix it? Well, things weren't looking good.

Especially if Lucien Dooku was involved.

What are you getting us into now, Damien? Kyric wondered, eyeing the device as the distance between them rapidly shrunk and the sounds of fighting only grew louder.

Damien Dooku

 

[Damien Dooku]

"Oh come on dude!"

His protest fell on deaf ears as something big impacted the wall next to his face, forcing the scoundrel away from the window with an emergency slide across the dust-covered floor. One of the goons had apparently acquired a Repeater, and he was using it to moderate effectiveness in pinning down Damien from leaving more corpses strewn through the streets.

That being said- the situational was not what he'd call unmanageable. From his last count, he'd downed seven, maybe eight of 'em in total. There were still more coming, and that meant eventually R4 would seize the moment to blast his way through the roof, and make his way over to Damien as reinforcements. His Starfighter was packed with enough firepower to critically hurt the smaller end of most capital-grade vessels, which meant a few volleys from the cannons and a salvo of missiles were more than enough to wipe out everything in his path. The only problem with this plan was the fact that it would also put both him in the firing zone, as well as the surrounding denizens of the slums.

A worn out sigh followed his thought, and he shoved it into the back of his mind for now. Slinging the spent cartridge out of his pistol once more, Damien used the barrel-end of the weapon to knock out the window opposite of the repeater's attention, effortlessly reloaded another cartridge into the chamber, and took aim at the Nikto holding the weapon in question.

Boom!

A single shot ran out from the pistol, the high-powered blast expending the entire cartridge in exchange fore the firepower necessary to vaporize the Nikto's lower half. It keeled over at an oblique angle as its attention swiveled ever so close to the gaping hole missing from its entire left abdomen, and down its hip, before collapsing in on himself in death. Brutal as it was, the intended effect of fear, and most importantly, hesitation spread throughout their ranks.

No time was wasted in feeling himself. Damien ejected the cartridge and reloaded the next, counting two more on his belt, and a single shrapnel grenade as well. His pistol went to work leaving two more thugs on the now crimson and dusty road, but at least this time the return fire had lost the accuracy it had maintained before.

Damien aimed at his next victim and fired two more rounds off in an instant, the first bolt removing the entirety of one Twi'lek's knee, persuading him to keel over and deal with his detached leg in favor of fighting any further. The second shot went straight through their shoddy lines of contact, slamming into one of the several silhouettes he saw approaching from far down the street.

"Finally-- some reinforcements." He mused to himself, then opened up a channel back to the astromech over in the hangar. "How's it lookin' in there, R4?" The droid chose not to respond, instead linking his starfighter's camera feed to Damien's holocommunicator. There were still a good amount of goons who were keeping the hangar on lockdown, but it wouldn't be long until his presence demanded everything this syndicate had to offer.

A confident smirk reasserted itself upon his face now that his plan was beginning to show some signs of following through. Damien hooked the grenade off his belt, then flicked the sphere outside of the window, letting it bounce and roll itself to a stop. An orange light blinked intermittently as it begun to roll itself down the road, homing in on the nearest hostiles its sensors picked up. An explosion thundered outside as he pressed against the wall, reached into his pocket and leisurely lifted a single cigarette to his lips.

Terror, confusion, pain, regret.

He didn't need the force to understand what was going on in his periphery.

Kyric

 

[Kyric]

Shouts of pain and cries for mercy heralded the ongoing shootout in the rundown neighborhood. Kyric surmised from the growing aura of fear that the neighbors couldn't even leave their homes.

It was the exact type of place he expected to find Damien.

The sudden screech of an oncoming bolt ripped his attention away from the innocents trapped within their homes. "Duck!" Kyric demanded before narrowly side-stepping the shot. He heard three bodies hit the floor, followed by an incredulous 'Where' from one of the twi'lek. A fourth body slammed into the duracrete a few seconds after the others.

Kyric's gaze snapped to the body. Half of the twi'lek's head was missing. Entirely blown apart, lekku and all, by a familiar blaster pistol. At least he's consistent.

A consistent fuck up.

The words echoed in his head even as he felt a blaster pistol press against the back of his head.

"You thought your Jedi mind magic would work forever, Jones?" their chosen leader inquired, his voice full of spite. "Face down on the street," He motioned with the blaster. "I think I'll return the favor to your partner for what happened to my boy here."

Kyric didn't bother to entertain him. He kicked out the man's knee with his back leg, and then the kiffar gripped him by the wrist and twisted, yanking him to the floor to the applause of snapping bone. The man screamed. The other two drew their blaster pistols and opened fire.

Shoot, no- argh! Kyric dropped low, rolling to the side to avoid the first volley. He vaulted off his right hand over the second volley and crashed through a half-broken window. Bolts thudded harmlessly on the other side of the wall.

"Your heart rate is spiking, sir. Can I be of assistance?"

"Yes!" Kyric shouted into the empty room. "Have BD ready the ship for an extraction." The kiffar charged across the room and up the stairs, narrowly avoiding his assailants once they hit the window. "Run their faces through GADF, NJO, and NIO known criminal personnel. I'm curious if any of this tracks back to what Dad was looking into."

"Very well, sir." There was a pause. "What will you be doing?"

"Catchin' up with Damien," Kyric declared as he kicked open the door to the apartment roof. "It looks like he could use a hand."

Damien Dooku

 

[Damien Dooku]

Blaster bolts carpeted his building once more, the intensity of the fighting being directed at him outside both simultaneously picking up, but curiously dropping off at the same time. Damien dipped his head just enough to catch sight of the chaotic scenery and its ensemble of disorganized actors with malus brimming in his eyes, and a blaster aimed square at the temple of a human's silhouette before the man dashed into a window.

A chuckle escaped his lips, but not before he jerked his aim towards a charging Devaronian wielding a shoddy scattergun in his grip. He was too late despite getting a clean shot off first; the Devaronian's final action was to pull the trigger down, inundating the window with a stream of pellets that nearly caught Damien head-on.

His shoulder felt hot, and a warm liquid dripped from the pox-marked holes where a few of the pellets had pierced right through his jacket. For now he'd ignore the pain in favor of riding the adrenaline keeping him alert, choosing to angle his pistol out of the window and blind-fire the rest of the cartridge outside.

Whipping the cartridge to the floor in a similar fashion as before, Damien pushed off the wall and bee-lined it for the staircase at the far end of the building. The door slammed open just as he curved the middle section of the staircase, the human taking point swiveling a scattergun and firing just as Damien leaped up the rest of the stairs and out of harm's way.

More footsteps followed, his keen hearing keeping him appraised of what appeared to be a concerted effort to flush him out at all costs. That same human charged up the staircase with another sentient at his back, confident in his ability to take down the scoundrel in close-quarters with his weapon. Misplaced as it was, Damien could respect their initiative, yet that did not have any effect on lowering the brutality he'd deliver upon them now that they'd closed the distance.

As the human reached the top of the stairs, Damien slid across the floor from the man's side, reaching out with one hand to grab ahold of the scattergun and shift its arc of fire towards the goon at the back. Whether from a lack of discipline or fear, the human's trigger finger yanked down as hard as he could, splattering his comrade's insides from the back of his chest cavity and onto the wall behind him. The body slammed against the wall shortly thereafter, a lifeless husk crumbling down onto the stairs.

Fear turned into horror as the human noticed the barrel of Damien's blaster pointed square at his chin-- and he too died on the spot, his corpse pushed onto the stairs' mid-section alongside the other. Several more pairs of boots stormed through the building, but this time around Damien did not bother setting a trap to engage them with, choosing to dash for the hatch leading up to the roof. A short leap later and he was once more exposed to the tibanna-rich air outside, and afforded a brief moment of respite after locking the hatch behind him. It would buy him a few minutes at best-- but that was all that he'd need.

"C'mon R4, you can't tell me you're not just sittin' on your ass enjoying the show at this point."

The droid chimed back a dismissive series of notes. Damien sighed, shifting his body to a low crawl in order to approach the edge of the roof without taking fire.

In the distance he could hear the sound of something heavy coming his way. It rumbled loud enough to overpower the gunfire, which he hoped didn't mean there was a combat vehicle headed his way. The familiar whine of a heavy-duty engine approaching ever-so-closer only served to disappoint, and so too did the increasingly obvious attempts to break through the rooftop's hatch.

"It's now or never you stupid droid!"

R4 didn't reply, leaving Damien to curse a few words in Huttese before slamming the holocomm shut.

BOOM! ​

The evening sky flared with orange-tinted radiance from the direction of the starport, drawing the attention of the goons beneath him, on the ground, and even Damien himself towards that direction. His Starfighter's silhouette could barely be processed through the flames and smoke surrounding it, but the sight of Midnight in action could never be mistaken.

The stupid droid had finally decided to act. ​

Kyric

 

[Kyric]

Kyric jogged to the halfway point between the door he exited and the edge of the roof before the door opened again behind him. The mangey wookie charged out with a mean-looking sawed-off. Hardened slag stuck to the barrel's rim, making Kyric think the wookie wasn't one for weapon maintenance. The other twi'lek with the still-functional head leveled his blaster pistol on the vagrant from behind his charging companion and opened fire. With keen precision, two bursts of three bolts screeched across the rooftop after the rogue Jedi.

That one isn't bad. Kyric admitted to himself as he darted out to his left at a full sprint, his body a blur of force-infused speed. The wookie turned after him and opened fire. The molten shot Kyric had come to associate with slug-rounds erupted from the barrel, aimed at where the kiffar was a dozen steps back. Superheated slag pulverized duracrete on impact. Chunks of the rooftop broke away. Duracrete sizzled and little white trails of smoke rose a few inches before vanishing from sight.

Kyric pushed past the wookie completely. He charged even faster, clearing the remaining distance before his target could pull the trigger for a third time. His shoulder slammed into the twi'lek's chest with a solid thud. He could both hear and feel the alien's chest give beneath the blow. The force ripped the blue-skinned sentient up and over the railing of the stairs, to fly wordlessly into the wall across the staircase.

Don't forget the wookie.

Ephemeral warnings fluttered through his mind in time for the youth to act. Kyric kicked off the nearby wall and took hold of the railing with both hands. He soared over the side and down to the floor beneath him. Another broad spray of molten shrapnel caked the wall above the twi'lek, who now lay unmoving on the landing between Kyric and the wookie.

Thank you. The kiffar telekinetically yanked the blaster from the wookie's grasp and tossed it away. That should make this a lot easier.

Kyric charged back up the stairs at the wookie with a grin. He scooped up the twi's blaster on the way up, only to whip it at the wookie. Another splitting crack sent the wookie's head reeling back. The beast dropped to the floor unconscious.

Then an explosion ripped through the distant sky.

Kyric turned to see the silhouette of Damian's ship in the smoke and flame left in its destructive escape. Really? Was that really necessary? He gazed across the street, to the distinct and familiar sensation of Damien. Only he was weaker within the force. Far weaker.

He took two steps back and charged. The force carried Kyric across the thoroughfare to the far side of the building. His hand wavered behind him, where Damien would know he kept his saber. This was a clear enough sign as any. If Damien meant him no harm, he would recognize the showing on Kyric's part. If not? Well, Auteme would be seeing her son real soon.

Damien Dooku

 

[Damien Dooku]

Chaos intermixed with the ensuing mayhem of R4's arrival onto the scene; Midnight, the JSF under the droid's control,, sparked in the distance as ineffective bolts of energy bounced off its resistant outer plating. For a moment the craft dipped one of its foils- one VTOL thruster switching to half-power and leaving the craft at the perfect angle to deliver the aforementioned salvo that Damien had mused on earlier.

"Not now, R4!" Damien's opened up a channel just long enough for that message to be sent. He couldn't see them, but he knew that there were still plenty of civilians in the area, and their collateral wasn't needed on his conscious if he could get out of this situation with other means of action.

A droning noise cut it ways closer and ever louder to the city, prompting both R4 and Damien's attention at the last moment, and just a little too late. Further lights, cut through the growing night sky as bolts of yellow and red energy impacted across the top of Midnight's hull. R4 whined out in anger and confusion, but reported minimal damage at the behest of a flight decommissioned Imperial fighters. R4's tone shifted to one that was now seeking blood, and both it and Midnight blasted off into the skies to deal with this new threat on their own.

"You've got be kidding me."

Damien lifted up from behind the rooftop to refocus his attention on the gangsters steadily surrounding his location. He spun on his heel just in time to catch the hatch to his rear open up, emptying the cartridge into a Rodian carrying another scattergun. Damien rushed across the hatch -- tossing the spent cartridge in the process -- and ripped the scattergun out of the man's hand with his free hand. His pistol was holstered at the same time as the body of the Rodian was kicked down the hatch, and onto one of its comrades judging off the yelp he heard right after.

Swinging around to face the street, the scattergun would've quickly found use, were it not for being caught off-guard by an individual leaping across the rooftop and right at him. Shit, shit, shit.. He dropped the scattergun, ripping his pistol out of its holster and inserting his last cartridge so fast that it was almost an impossible sight to your average goon. Almost too impossible, but occasionally the scoundrel was still capable of sub-conscious feats when it'd really count.

His body shifted into a one-handed shooter's stance, the pistol whipped into aim in their general direction. Their eyes connected, and at the last moment he'd recognize just who this assassin actually was.

Then he fired-- twice actually.

The first shot whizzed past Kyric's head-- so close that there was no debate as to whether it was intentional or not, as there were few who could pull off a stunt such as that without a friendly fire incident report in hand. The tibanna bolt cut across to the rooftop to Kyric's rear and slammed into a Weequay with a proper rifle in his hands.

The second shot followed a slight movement of his hand, with this one intentionally whizzing past the opposite side of Kyric's face, and far down the line until it impacted into someone who'd set up a marksman rifle, and was planning on hitting the Kiffar out of mid-air.

HE drew his hand back right as the Kiffar would land, spinning the blaster several before it was holstered at his hip. He crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes at the Jedi with suspicion and a bit of paranoia behind them.

Damien sighed, bringing a hand to his face and dragging it down a bit too dramatically given their history.

"Now's not the time for an intervention or life lesson, dude. I'm.. a bit preoccupied, if you couldn't tell."

Between the agonizing cries of the dead and dying, the sound of a fighter battle being waged in the skies, and even more rumbling approaching closer to their position, Damien felt justified in his response.

"Oh by the way-- you're welcome."

It wasn't everyday you got to force a Jedi into owing you a favor, after all.


Kyric

 

[Kyric]

The shots would ring out one after the other, the barrel of Damien's blaster level with the kiffar's head.

His finger itched to draw his saber and bat the bolts away for principle alone! But Kyric knew better than that. Everything from the leap to his descent was taken for quick and fluid movements. Any attempt at a defense would be messy at best, not to mention what it would mean for the boy's landing.

Death. Killing intent. Bloodlust. Fury.

And... concern?

The confluence of intent centered around the kiffar left him somewhat hopeful.

Act first. Think later. This is why even mom's influence couldn't keep you on the force.

Kyric winced.

The time for action came and went. Damien let fly two perfectly aimed shots, passing close enough for the kiffar to feel their seething heat. He hit the rooftop, knees bent to absorb the impact, and straightened to meet Damien's eyes.

"Now's not the time for an intervention or life lesson, dude. I'm.. a bit preoccupied, if you couldn't tell."

The kiffar sighed. "Even if we had the time, I don't have the energy." He unclipped his saber and activated the weapon. Emerald light spilled out around Kyric like an otherworldly aura. "I've no idea what you've gotten yourself into, but I figured you could use the help." Turning on his heel, he presented Damien with his back and focused his attention on distant gunmen.

"Oh by the way-- you're welcome."

"We're not settled up until we're off planet. You know the rules," Kyric batted aside an oncoming bolt directly into an assassin droid's head. From its perch hugging the ledge, it was practically invisible against the gray and black backdrop of the city. It dropped its blaster, recently leveled on Damien, to the floor.

"You take the lead. I'll cover you," Kiffar positioned himself between Damien and what he knew would be the worst of the blaster fire.

Damien Dooku

 

[Damien Dooku]

THEME​

A surprising twist of events, indeed. For once the appearance of his errant half-brother didn't mean that their mother had sent him after Damien, nor did it seem as if Kyric was there to interfere with what was turning out to be a stellar evening to continue raising his credit margin with his employers. Truth be told, Damien could've used the help, given the appearance of assassin droids, requisitioned imperial fighters, and combat vehicles rolling onto the scene.

But he was too proud to admit it.

"Sensational." He left it there for now. The scoundrel's eyes moved to his brother's lightsaber and lingered on the familiar object now in his hand. It'd been a long time since he'd even used one of those things-- hell, he barely even remembered his training, or most of it anyway.

"I've got a cartridge left. Six shots." Damien continued on, though one of those six were summarily delivered into the mouth cavity of a semi-distant human setting up on a nearby rooftop. "...Make it five." Damien holstered his pistol, then grabbed the scattergun he'd previously dropped on the floor to his left.

Damien was given the chance to take the lead time around, and the thought of fighting alongside Kyric once more was enough to make his blood run hotter than ever. His lips remained curled into an unending smirk, and he'd share a nod with Kyric before making their move known.

Damien dashed towards the edge of the roof, kicking off with his dominant foot into what should've been a suicidal leap towards the ground below. He leveled the scattergun towards the rooftops as he fell, sweeping each goon he could see with a storm of shrapnel that killed or suppressed most of them on his way down.

The fun had just begun, his boots slamming against a slagged-out landspeeder's hull, blunting anything other than the initial shock of the landing itself. He went to work sweeping and firing at the undisciplined mob of gangsters and thugs, dashing low and sliding from cover to cover as he lead him and his brother on a warpath right down the center of the street to take the fight to them directly.

BOOM!

An already destroyed speeder to his left erupted into flames after a massive blast of particles and energy hit the engine center-mass, creating enough force to momentarily throw Damien onto his ass and briefly out of cover. He rolled to his right as three more goons charged him, his hand reaching out for the scatttergun, only to find the barrel had been warped by an errant piece of shrapnel.

"Shit." He whipped his pistol towards them and fired, downing the first two before the third one was on him. His pistol was empty, and so he swept the man onto his back with a well-timed roundhouse right through the side of his shin. Something broke in the process, the man fell to the ground, and Damien snapped his neck with little effort on his part. Damien requisitioned the dead gangster's blaster pistol and extra energy packs and threw himself back-first against a solid piece of duracrete, intent on holding his position until Kyric inevitably caught up. Dealing with goons was one thing, but without Midnight in the air, taking out the approaching vehicles would require a bit more finesse.

Kyric

 

[Kyric]

He's fired up, Kyr. This is going to get a lot worse before it gets any better.

Wasn't that the truth?

Kyric eyed Damien's blaster. Six shots. Given the number of assailants and distinct lack of professional consistency across their choice of weaponry, the kiffar knew the matter of ammunition would be one of many obstacles to their escape. Damien's tendency for the more loud and proud approach to these events wouldn't make it any easier.

Racing after him to the edge of the roof, Kyric launched himself out and over the speeder. He deactivated his saber amid his descent and cast his arms out to both sides. A dozen blaster bolts froze in place. Kyric shifted in the air, his body coiling in a graceful barrel roll, until his chest faced skyward. With an elated, and almost euphoric shout, he released the salvo heavenward.

Kyric descend amid the rising inferno, his saber once more flashing out in a flurry of viridescent light. He went to work even as his body plummeted to the asphalt, his brilliant saber carving a bubble around him completely free of blaster fire. The display only ended as Kyric landed, boots-down, on the very same speeder as his kin. Looking at the scene, it appeared as if Damien had finished off those caught up in Kyric's display.

"That one's a classic," Kyric mused between chuckles. "The Light Show never fails."

On your left.

Whispered warnings alerted Kyric to the danger before he knew where to look. His right foot slid back in preparation as his arms rose to meet the force of the explosion. He got the better end of the deal, it seemed, as Damien stumbled out of cover into an oncoming band, while the kiffar remained firmly planted on the speeder. His saber burst to life in his hand in response to another surge of blaster fire, intent to hold the position until his partner found his footing once again.

When Damien hit the wall, Kyric followed suit.

"Domestic-built assault vehicles. Sure, why not." He shook his head, more for his own sake really. "I'll clear a path for you. Figure out how to decommission that thing."

Some might call that a tall order. Damien might even have been some.

Kyric didn't care. He had to hold off the assault vehicle long enough to get Damien into position, all the while, the rogue Jedi couldn't let any of this spill over into the residencies on either side of the road.

Fun night! Kyric thought to himself while he strode directly out of cover. Thought no one ever.

Breaking into a steady jog, Kyric elected not to utilize his force-infused body for an increased pace. While the enhanced speed meant much greater safety, he needed them to open fire on him, not Damien. About halfway down the road, the jerryrigged turret built into the back of an armored-speeder locked on the Jedi. The instant the turret released a blast of screeching energy, Kyric's body shifted to one side. His arms shot skyward, his lightsaber burning to life at the apex of an impossibly-fast draw. And Kyric's blade surged down even faster than it rose. The force of the strike carried a wave of telekinetic energy that clashed violently with the high-powered shot.

Still following through with his strike, the kiffar's jaw remained clenched, brow furrowed in intense concentration. He willed the confluence of energy downward beside his weapon with a thunderous crack. Fissures erupted outward from the point of impact. A nearby speeder flipped onto its side, while entire chunks of duracrete burst upward from the ground.

Its now or never, brother.

Kyric slid his foot out even further, positioning his hostered blaster pistol for a sudden draw.

Damien Dooku

 

[Damien Dooku]

A genuine chuckle escaped his lips for the first time in who knew how long. Fighting alongside mercenaries and gangster had the unintended effect of a usual stoned-faced partner-in-crime, but Kyric's presence at his side had unlocked a part of him that he'd nearly forgot existed.

"Let's see if the saber boy's still got it then, chief." The words were accompanied with a deliberately hard swipe against Kyric's shoulder, triggering a small wave of pain in his own, courtesy of the lucky scattergun spray from before. For now he would use the few moments of reprieve to gather himself together, and watch eagerly as Kyric did his thing.

Between the lightsaber and his movements, Damien felt enamored at the sight of such an insane display of feats his brother was able to achieve. The force was strong in that one, even if the downer had the propensity of humbling himself even when it was not needed. It didn't take long for the armored vehicle to target him either, but once more the Jedi displayed exactly why Damien was fine with letting him solo these idiots for as long as he did.

A loud crack followed the parrying of a blast that nearly vaporized Damien before the fight had reached its crescendo, and with it came his entry back into the fray. He slid from behind the cover and pushed back onto his feet, his form low and focused, much like a predator on the hunt. Kyric's blaster was ripped out of its holster cleanly as Damien rushed past him without losing momentum in the slightest, his body cutting from left to right down the length of the street, the scoundrel clearly intending to take the fight directly to the vehicle head-on.

Before the crew inside even had the chance to gather themselves for another shot, Damien leaped upwards into the air, his boots hitting the hull with enough force behind them to draw the attention of those inside.

The driver spotted him first-- all he saw was the lone human smirking directly at him, a blaster aimed at each of his non-human eyes. A flare of light erupted from in front of him, each of the blasters being fired off several times, punching through the glass like a hot knife through butter. The glass shattered with each shot until the inside was fully exposed, the slumped body of the driver propped up by the steering wheel and console.

The firing would not stop until both blasters were fully expended, and the occupants of the previously menacing vehicle were just as dead and slumped over as the alien behind the wheel.

"Light work." He grinned. Damien then wobbled off-balance as the vehicle swiveled out of control and began driving directly through a nearby wall.

Another leap sent him tumbling onto the ground, but this time he'd catch his footing without too much of an issue.

"First one down!" He called out to Kyric. There was another further down the street, but so far it'd been unable to get a clear shot on either of them.

"Care to use a bit more of that Jedi magic, or should I be the responsible one and handle it myself?" The shit-eating grin on his face sad it all. Despite the gunfights and near-death moments, he was having a hell of a time.

Kyric

 

[Kyric]

"This one will be a lot easier," Kyric shouted back. He hurried toward the other vehicle as it crashed through the wall and veered back into the street. An application of his will forced the makeshift turret to rotate forty-five degrees to hang over the right side of the speeder bed. From there the kiffar climbed atop the back of the speeder. Taking hold of the oversized blaster, he aimed for the opposite turret and clicked the activation button. Metal vibrated within his grip as energy churned within the device. Sucked from the speeder engine and repurposed for pure destruction, the make-a-cannon unleashed another shot.

It ripped the other turret, and its occupant, right off the speeder.

"Can't beat the classics."

Kyric dropped from the speeder right before it collided against another wall. this time with an anti-climactic thud. Some signage from Delanie's Baked Goods crashed to the ground, but nothing else appeared outright destroyed from the crash.

"Okay," the rogue jedi took up a position beside Damien once more, his saber reignited and firmly in hand. "Surely they've gotta be runnin' out of bodies to throw at you. Who did you piss off?"

Damien Dooku

 

[Damien Dooku]

The Jedi made light work of the second vehicle with the finesse that only one of his kind could pull off, and Damien let out a hearty laugh as he noticed the surviving crewmembers flood out the side-hatch covered in soot, smoke and burned rags for clothes. "Scurry on fellas." Damien commanded, propping one foot onto a nearby rock with his arms crossed over the leg, a blaster hanging idly facing left and right. Terrified eyes settled upon him, the orange-crimson night sky forming an ominous backdrop that inversed the playful smirk on his face.

One hand shooed them away, to which they did with mixture of scurrying and falling over eachother thereafter. Once they were out of sight, Damien sighed, and shifted his attention towards the sound of Kyric's voice as it rang out from his side. "Nobody in particular." He shrugged. "I'm here on a contract. Simple job, but..." He curved his head downwards dramatically towards the ground, then shot his gaze back up to meet Kyric's once again. "They decided to make things difficult."

It was far from the complete truth of the situation, but Damien still had a few things to piece together before the full picture could be revealed with any sort of accuracy. His job was not over until the cargo had been found, and the first thing needed to do that was to exit this city in one piece.

Whoever this syndicate was would reveal itself soon enough.

He looked around for a moment, taking in the silence on the ground, ignoring the sounds of starfighter combat echoing and flashing beyond the clouds above their heads. R4 had reported in an entire squadron coming in as reinforcements mid-way through the two brothers' fight against their ground component, and this only served to reinforce the idea that they were dealing with a group more funded than he was led to believe.

"Very interesting in-freakin'-deed.." The words came out as he delved into a spell of deep analytical thought. R4 chimed in, breaking his concentration and bringing him out of his head. He grabbed his holocommunicator out of his pocket and activated the screen. "What's up, chief?"

R4's visage materialized, and the droid responded back with an excited chime of notes to confirm that the majority of the fighters were sent crashing down outside the boundaries of the city's walls. Those who remained were busy fleeing from combat, interestingly in the direction of the warehouse noted on Bondana's holopad.

Damien said thanks, then shut the device back off, his eyes shifting back towards Kyric once again.

"Mom would be proud." He laughed again, kicking his foot off the rock, and holstering his stolen blaster inside an empty slot beneath his leather jacket. Damien approached Kyric nonchalantly by that point, and without any warning he'd reholster Kyric's own weaon back onto his hip-- smooth as butter, but without the extra flare. The datapad beneath his jacket was tossed at Kyric too, the contents free for him to parse together the bits and pieces being drip-fed by Damien.

"The two of us on a roadtrip, no bickering, no fightin'. It's just like old times, eh?" The corner of his lip curled upwards once again. His hand extended outwards, to meet his brother halfway once he was done reading through the datapad.

"So how about it."

 

[Kyric]

"Nobody in particular." He shrugged. "I'm here on a contract. Simple job, but..."

Kyric scratched his cheek thoughtfully. He knew that was a half-truth, likely an omission of enormous proportions on Damien's part. But the kiffar didn't press the issue. The Force led him here at the end of the day. His most recent lead on this mysterious band of slavers led him to Korriban. More specifically, it led him to a warehouse full of slaughtered criminals. He assumed anything else of note went with those responsible for the dead.

Bodies littered the ground of the rundown thoroughfare. He prodded one, eyeing its person for any signage connecting to them a known or unknown syndicate. With nothing of note, he looked up in time to catch the tail end of Damien's conversation with the droid, so he wandered back over.

"Mom would be proud."

No, she wouldn't. He immediately thought.

She definitely would not!

Kyric moved toward the abandoned speeder as Damien holstered the kiffar's blaster–a simple thing to the untrained eye. Not to anyone with a hint of competence. He caught the holopad when he turned back to face his half-brother and leaned against the vehicle. His gaze grew distant. His mind followed the passage of this item through the force, picking along the various threads of recent days that converged to make this moment possible.

Flashes. Only flashes of the faces and places this device had seen. Far too many intermediaries for the kiffar to directly track it to a source.

That's not good.

The only thing Kiffar knew for certain was this was happening for a reason. "No such thing as a coincidence with the force around, I reckon." He met Damien's eyes and clasped his wrist. "We'll get through this, together."

And when we're all done, I'll find a way to convince you to go see your mom.

Damien Dooku