Private Desert Rose

[Scherezade deWinter]

AMCO​

She was never going to love the desert. Heat, sure. Rays of sunshine that seemed to embrace and caress her with their lazy warmth? Certainly. But not… Not deserts, where the sun's light was always too harsh, where a small sand storm was more than enough to put sand in places you did not realize your body even had, where things just… Kiddled the inherited memories of Tatooine, a planet she had never lived on, but had visited too damn many times. Yet inside her head, those memories lingered, of four years of living there, a child, a slave, until one kitchen knife and a stroke of luck got her grandmother out of there. It had happened nearly a thousand years ago. in Scherezade's mind, it always stayed crunchy and fresh.

Once more had she been plagued with the whispers and visions. After the last time, she had sworn to not ever let herself follow them again, not until she had a more tangible explanation of what they meant and why they kept calling her to places. But they had, and now she was here, on Veroleem. The small blurb she'd ready about it, something about Mandalorian wars and Sith wars and whatever, hadn't interested her too much. And for a change, she had not come as part of a mission for the Agents of Chaos, but on her own. Not even her closest friends knew she was in this part of the galaxy now, so far away from one home, so close to the home she could not go to, and too damn close to her enemies.

Having at least some knowledge to rely on from the last time it happened, Scherezade knew by now not to attempt to find the source of the call through her Blood Hound ability. It had done absolutely nothing for her on Parnassos, it would not help her now. Or at least, she was about 99.99975% sure. No one said these voices and whispers that were threatening to crowd her mind would be calling her to another type of artifact like the last one she'd discovered. Heck, no one even said they were the same voices and whispers.

But she had an inkling that they were the same, after all, and that she was going to be as weirded out by what she'd find this time around.

Idly, Scherezade scribbled a few notes into her datapad, reminding herself to look into ways to block them entirely. Sure, they weren't interfering with her day to day life. She could still be counted on as a combatant, she could still focus on everything else that there was to focus on, but the voices and whispers lingered always, always just around the corner, or just behind her eyelids, or just in that precious moment between dream and darkness of sleep. She was going to have to find a way to stop them, or forever be doomed to going to random places across the 'verse just because something inside her head told her to do it.

Shaking her head, the Sithling, donned in her armor and with over fifteen blades strapped to her body, signaled to the bartender to bring her another drink. For an hour now, she'd been sitting by the bar, ordering glass after glass of full fat cream in various colors, always heated to the point of becoming frothy on top. Once, she had also ordered a large platter of bantha wings, and had caused the uncomfortable stares fo a few patrons as they seemingly vanished in her mouth, for every time she put a wing in there, it came out a second later, the bones almost bleached white.

Scherezade was pretty much considering a second platter now, as she continued to lazily drive her finger across the datapad, making sure she seemed like nothing more than an incredibly armed and potentially dangerous woman, who just happened to be bored in that exact moment.

Her attention, however, was on someone else entirely.

 

[AMCO]

A sweltering ball of dust and narcotics, almost as inhospitable as thrice-cursed Korriban, yet with none of the history to render it more tolerable. Under normal circumstances, he would never have deigned to place his polished boots upon its sands - but these were not normal circumstances, for some things required a more personal touch, despite his aristocratic sensibilities.

Casually walking into the bar - at least it had air conditioning - his eyes slithered over the crowd, pausing briefly at a few of the more excessively armed individuals present, in particular a scarred Rodian and an armoured woman with what could only be an obsession with bladed weapons.

Instead of approaching any of them, he instead walked over to a corner seat, positioning himself across from a wrinkly old "local".

Only the most alert of observers would notice that the old man deflated slightly before greeting the poshly dressed outlander in a quiet tone.

"So that's how it is, then?"

"That's how it is."

"You came yourself. What happened to free will?"

"The freedom to chose your own path, Five, not to betray your creator. Important difference. Now, where is it?"

Scherezade deWinter​

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

AMCO​

Shutting her datapad off, Scherezade grabbed her drink and spun around in her seat, glowing green eyes now cast on the patrons of the establishment. She noticed a few of the men in the back looked away as soon as they realized she was looking herself, and grinned. Weapons were a good protection - for the body as well as the soul.

Jumping off the high chair, she walked slowly, making sure to take her time with every confident step she took forward, her gaze still lingering, looking for… For something.

"Hey boys, mind if I join in?" she didn't really ask at all as she took a seat and tossed a few chips onto the table, unaware that she was currently closer to AMCO than she had been moments ago.

With a smile, she collected her cards, flicked quickly through them, and then set them face-down back on the table. The round began and the other people at the table mostly growled and snarled at each other. Scherezade, picked her feet up and put them on the table, next to her cards. They obviously didn't like that, but no one was going to demand the woman who had more blades than they had inches to their height in plain view.

Until a moment later, when the Blood Hound sat straight up again and showed her cards, winning the round.

"This means I win, right?" she didn't ask her second not-a-question, and collected the chips towards her.

 

[AMCO]

The conversation continued for a short while longer, the verbal sparing of two who knew that both had ways of reading the other, of affecting the other's will, if in wildly different ways. He should know, he had made the "old man".

Hearing the loud protesting from behind him - someone being accused of cheating? - the Sorcerer was distracted, momentarily.

It was all the time the Changeling needed.

Eyes snapping back to Five, he saw the sonic grenade clutched to the man's chest - and the finger pressed resolutely into a dead man's switch.

"You don't want to do this. Give me what I seek and you can be free, you can..."

"No. No, I know who I was, before this, before you! I know, but I'm not him anymore. You wiped all that away. Consider this payback."

"Don't you dare..."

With all the subtlety of a thunderbolt, the grenade detonated, flinging the Sith Knight backwards even as the Shield Talisman he always wore shielded him from the brunt of the blast. With a thud he landed atop a table, scattering cards and chips everywhere, sighing dramatically as he realized that a severed arm had landed next to him, the aged skin shifting back to a pristine white now that the Changeling had died.

"... well, that could have gone better."

Scherezade deWinter​

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

AMCO​

"Listen, gentlemen," the Sithling smiled sweetly, "It's not my fault you guys are so bad at this game. I'd offer you a double or nothing chance but I think I'm close to owning your underpants now, and frankly, I don't need skidmarks on my shi-"

BAM!

The blast, while not strong enough to blow the place up or injure them, was still sufficiently powerful to knock not just a man on their table, but send everything on it flying around. Scherezade could feel the push as her body scooted an inch or two on the chair and she blinked in surprise.

Dang. Usually she was better than that at being able to tell a moment before stuff like this happened. She raised a hand to her cheek, where a piece of pretzel that had flown from the bar had decided to land, and flicked it away.

The next moment she immediately grabbed the severed arm, and used it in the attempt to slap AMCO across the face with it. "Just what do you think you're doing?!" she demanded. Other patrons were worried, people going back and forth, trying to understand if there was a possibility of more bombs going off like that, others trying to head for the exit.

But not her.

She was seated rooted in her place, her glowing green eyes glaring at the man who'd just lost her the win from that round.

 

[AMCO]

In the immediate aftermath of the explosion he had expected panic, perhaps a gun or two being fired. He had most certainly not expected that the knife enthusiast he had spotted earlier would pick up the severed arm of that traitor and slap him with it.

Grunting in surprise, he raised an eyebrow, though a keen eye would be able to tell that the whole experience had left him somewhat queasy - a mad scientist he may be, but this was unusual even by his standards. It was most certainly not how he usually chose to spend his time.

"I'll have you know, it wasn't my bomb. Former, ah, employee going crazy on me, you see. Some people have no gratitude."

Sighing dramatically, he pushed himself off the table, taking a moment to steady himself when his feet hit the ground. This was really very inconvenient, now how was he supposed to find out what this whole mess had been about? What his spy had been willing to die for?

Flashing her his most winning smile, only slightly spoiled by his rumpled looks and the body parts strewn about, he met her green eyes with his own blue. "You wouldn't happen to see any, ah, data storage thingamajigs lying around, Ms. ...?"

These mercenaries - that was what she was, no? - always knew how to loot bodies, or so he assumed. Part of the business model, right?

Scherezade deWinter​

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

AMCO​

Well hadn't they slipped right into business?

Scherezade looked at the man standing next to her, but her game companions realized that she wasn't focused on their game for the moment being. One of them, had the very stupid notion that it was a good idea to try to swindle and attack her now.

She was having none of that.

Glowing eyes focused on AMCO as she waved her free hand, calling upon the Force, and one of her knives slid from her pocket, burying itself in the jugular vein of the one who thought attacking her was smart. He squealed in panic as the blood began to pour out of him. Seven minutes. Then he would be dead, unless he got any help with that. And she sure as Netherworld wasn't going to help.

"So the owner of this hand was hiding crap from you?" she asked Adrian, and now her gaze shifted to the arm she was holding. It had been part of that person's body, and… Yes, it had his blood.

Scherezade held it up to her nose and gave it a sniff. The blood was still alive for now; it would be hours, sometimes days, before it became useless to her specific brand of abilities. "How long had he been waiting for you?" she asked, still sniffing. The tasting… Would come later, "And what are you willing to give for its precise location?"

 

[AMCO]

The slightest twitch of a facial muscle was the only hint that the Sith Knight had been caught off guard by the woman, ah, disabling one of her former opponents at cards. A Force User, a Darksider like himself. How had he not sensed that, maybe he was getting sloppy.

"That he was. Spy turned foe..." Telekinetically extracting the blood that had soiled his lovely jacket, he smirked. "... though not a very enduring one. Bold, though, I'll give him that." He would need to implement further countermeasures to keep the others he had repurposed from going rogue, but that was a matter for another day. The spy had found something for which he was willing to die and Adrian would have it. Whatever it was.

"He hadn't been waiting for me, per se. I sent him here months ago and a week back he went to pursue a clue and never reported in. It would seem he was determined to keep it from me. Rather rude, don't you think?"

Clicking his tongue, he looked her over in a new light. Not a mercenary, not with power like that. Pursuing interests of her own, no doubt - she might even be after the same thing he was. "I would offer credits, but I imagine you have plenty. May I instead propose an exchange - you help me find what he sought to hide and we share it if it is shareable, or I offer you something of equivalent value if it is not. An artefact, or perhaps a creature?"

Scherezade deWinter​

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

AMCO​

Spy turned foe. Scherezade let the mister in front of her keep talking. On the surface, it looked as though she was only half listening, her gaze focused on the arm in front of her as she moved it here and there, bouncing it like a strange puppet. It was a good arm, she had to admit. There were a lot of people who would've loved to replace their own arm with that one. Not her though. Too hairy for her personal tastes.

And when AMCO finished speaking, her gaze snapped instantly back to him, almost as though he was the most important thing in the world right in that second. And she smiled.

"A boon," she nodded. A boon was a good thing. "I help you, and give you any and all this arm has to give me, and in return you will owe me a boon, to collect at the time of my choosing. To seal the deal, I require a drop of your blood."

Still smiling, her free hand grabbed another one of the knives she had stashed about her body, and she handed it to him, hilt forward. "Just a small drop. Please don't injure yourself too badly. If this dude's arm holds all that information we're about to embark on a seriously wild ride!"

 

[AMCO]

She was a strange one, this woman - in mannerism, equipment, and most likely personality alike. Only time would tell whether she could be trusted.

Narrowing his eyes ever so slightly at her request, he gave it a thought - a long thought. A boon was vague enough as is; manageable, if potentially problematic, but his blood? It could be used for cloning and the like, certainly, but he was more concerned about its potential as a sorcerous focus. The last thing he needed was it falling into the hands of a rival Sorcerer.

There were, however, precautions that could be taken. That would be taken, once this was said and done.

"A boon, then - one that stands in reasonable proportion to whatever we uncover and does not unduly compromise my interests." Grasping her knife by the hilt, he poked a finger, offering it forward with a single drop of blood just barely ready to drip from his otherwise unblemished skin.

"Do we have a deal?"

Scherezade deWinter​

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

AMCO​

Scherezade nodded, and her eyes lit up with excitement as the blood was presented to her. Yes. That was exactly what she wanted. She raised her finger to her mouth and bit down, breaking the skin, drawing a fat drop of her own blood as well, which she used to swipe Adrain's with, and then licked her finger, tasting their blood combined.

It was done. It was set in place. Unless the man in front of her found a way to break it, he was now bound by his very own blood. She hoped he would not break it, since that would undo all the wonderful work she was just about to do for him. Plus, she would have to kill him. Business was business, you know?

"Done," she grinned, "You might feel a bit fuzzy around the edges. It'll go away in a few seconds, that's just your promise setting in."

She picked the arm back up again from the table and made a face. It was going to be disgusting. She was going to hate it, she knew. Irony had a way with her, turning her first into a Blood Hound and then make sure she loathed the taste of it, which she often enough needed to get in order to do her thing with it. It was one thing when it was just a drop - drops were small, innocent, non-threatening. But what she needed to do with the arm…

"Ask any question you want of the memories the second I start drinking," she told him what she needed, "It'll help focus the relevant memories."

With that, she raised the arm in a cheers motion, and then put the open end of the arm in her mouth, and started sucking the blood out of it.

Force, it was gross. Immediately, the last seconds of the man came to her vision, tinted a heavy red, courtesy of the blood. She saw the face of the man next to her, looking at the arm's owner in the memory. "Don't you dare…" she heard his voice inside the memory, and she jumped in deeper, waiting for the questions that were hopefully about to come.

 

[AMCO]

The average man would probably be horrified to learn that they might very well have entered into a mystically binding agreement, doubly so one enforced by some sort of blood magic, but Adrian was anything but average.

"How curious. I assume it is binding in the truest sense? You really must teach me how to do that, once our current goal is accomplished."

Goodness knew the ability to bind others to their promises above and beyond mundane contracts would be useful, very useful.

Raising an eyebrow as the woman began drinking from the severed arm, the spike of nausea he felt was quickly pushed aside by a burning sense of curiosity; in mannerism and technique alike, the woman before him was nothing if not unique, who knew what he could learn by studying her?

"He found something - or someone. Go back a week or so, look for strong emotions, whether elation or betrayal. For now, the where is more important than the what - whatever he found, it was important enough for him to give life for it."

... or maybe it simply helped him realize the truth about his origins and that was enough. It would be truly unfortunate if this was a dead-end.

Scherezade deWinter​