Flesh and Bone and Nothing More.

[Aver Brand]

It was a nice enough day outside, she thought. The sun was hiding behind a canopy of grayish clouds, there was a soft breeze whistling between the towering spires of the urban sprawl, and the square was more empty than full, the occasional group traversing it quickly on the way to their final destination. Unremarkable, in the grand scheme of things, and certainly unremarkable to the blue eyes scrutinizing the scene. She'd seen so many things in her life. So, so many.

With a sigh, the cool gaze was averted, focusing on the door in front of them. Aver Brand and [member="Loray Tares"], two snakes ready to make their next mold the best one yet.

She wondered what it would feel like, as she slipped inside, out from the even light of day to the dim foyer of the building. The room, too, was as unremarkable as they come, serving its purpose perfectly. Nobody would look twice at the edifice, nor at the boring navy-colored fixtures placed evenly around the somewhat cramped entrance hall. Nobody would pay any mind to the man and woman lingering off to the side; the latter checking their wrist-pad, the former fishing around for something or other in their overcoat. Nobody, indeed, would remember their passage from the spaceport through the lazy afternoon traffic, nor their stroll past the few people milling about.

Exactly as they wanted it.

Aver checked the time again before letting her hand fall to her side again, next to a well-concealed – though no less dangerous – sidearm.

"Our welcome party should be here in two," she spoke as she thumbed the weapon in a soothing, rhythmic motion, her eyes fixed on the back entrance while Loray watched the front door.

And then they waited.

[member="Rigor"]​

 

[Loray Tares]

A lukewarm day, existing in the lackluster threshold between something remarkable and something easily forgotten. Just as they moved through this courtyard, puppets walking quietly on duracrete and cement upon invisible twine, the planet did the very same. There was nothing but the bland overtones to remind this masked figure. Remind him suddenly that he hated this place, as much as he might hate anything else.

She hid in plain gray site, he hid behind a veil of little importance. Perhaps, in his own way, he might have drawn attention to himself in the endeavor to conceal. As much as it might be an endeavor for him to breath or for this world to turn over uselessly, day by day, he masked his visage and presence in sheer ease. The sort of blurry image that one might note but quickly lose sight of, simply another face in the crowd.

He was fishing around in his overcoat, looking for a credit in pocket. He had spotted a few children and a dog fighting over scraps, he'd like to see what they might do when money was added to the equation. Desperation had it's own particular scent and display, enjoyable in the ashen and pale light. The sun seemed to hate the place as much as he did, water rumbling and soon to boil over. His gaze shifted from the woman who had joined him to particularly ordinary looking door, absent embellishment or indication of purpose. Tilting his head in display of curious anticipation, a canvas without a single stroke of color, he looked back towards [member="Aver Brand"].

A subtle nod, a sniff and likely flare of the nostrils, he crossed his arms and waited quietly. Glorious and awe struck purpose, standing idle for a welcome party. Too bad, he forgot to bring any snacks or gifts.

[member="Rigor"]​

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Loray Tares"] | [member="Aver Brand"]​

​

The mechanical clacking of metal on concrete would begin to echo out before long, the sound of a pair of feet striking heavily against the ground over and over again. A few seconds would pass, and within the darkness of the abandoned, decrepit building a figure would appear. It was hooded and cloaked, though a subtle, soft orange glow would peek out from beneath it's hood. The sound of mechanical whirring could be heard as the figures hands unfurled from fists, it's head slowly panning to regard the two figures that stood in front of it.

[Greetings] The mechanical voice seemed to echo slightly within the empty space that surrounded them, resonating almost perfectly.

Rigor of course had been sent to deal with the two figures, the droid being completely aware who and what it was receiving. Though it had started out as a simple medical droid, since then it had become so much more. Over the course of campaigns and skirmishes heralded by Saeva Incorporated Rigor had developed into something far more than the typical automaton. It had taken data cores from protocol droids, assassin droids, even astromechs. It had gathered knowledge unto itself and learned to become a little bit more.

Those who knew Rigor, or rather, those who directed it, Kiran Vess and Alric Kuhn knew this well.

They had seen it develop, had seen it learn and use it's knowledge for things never intended. That was why it was here today, because Rigor was discrete, because it was nonliving, unfeeling, and completely uncompromising. What better agent was there to meet with these two dealers of death?

 

[Aver Brand]

She hadn't been expecting an elaborate entourage – one of the reasons why they'd gone with Vanir in the first place – and when the hooded figure approached them, all she could do was smile.

Of course they'd send a droid. Droids were cold. Droids were calculating, and they were nearly impossible to manipulate. A good call on the part of its supervisors, but she'd expected nothing less from a company once led by the one-time CEO of the One Sith's largest supplier. No doubt funding a war machine like that teaches a man a few hard lessons, one of which was a near brush with death. Probably why he'd decided to retire a few years ago, appointing a hot blue thing in his stead.

But she digressed.

"Greetings," she replied, slowly, and took a step closer to the metal frame of the construct. Her hand still rested securely on the grip of her weapon, and absently, the woman wondered whether a droid's reflexes outstripped those of a Force user.

Rather unwilling to find out herself, Aver brushed the thought away and leveled its unblinking photoreceptors with a calm smile resting on her features. The expression seemed ill-at-ease there, like a visitor in a foreign, hostile land. She'd been trying to do better with smiles these past few months, but it was very much a work in progress. One that the droid likely wouldn't appreciate, genuine or not.

"Let's cut to the chase. How much?"

It always came down to credits and favors, in the end. While Alric Kuhn may have learned a thing or two about death in his time working with the One Sith, Aver had been imparted lessons quite different in nature. They merely reinforced what she'd spent all of her life believing – and living; that everyone had a price.

[member="Rigor"] | [member="Loray Tares"]​

 

[Loray Tares]

Greetings. The words didn't escape his lips, instead existing somewhere quietly behind his teeth. Clenched behind a painted expression, one that followed his companion as she moved to intercept the envoy and offer that casual expression. Greetings. Index finger. Middle finger. Ring finger. Pinky. His thumb slowly moved over each digit, cogs clicking together, as he cracked the knuckles in particular fashion. Perhaps that was his offering for hello, the cracking of bones.

Crossing his arms, his gaze drifted back to Aver and her growing fire red hair. He wasn't used to length, but he was growing fond of it in his own way. The orange glow of the messenger, or whatever it might be, caught the mans attention as he stepped in next to her. Slowly blinking, he tongued the side of his cheek as he quietly inspected the figure. His other hand would have gone to work, but the absence of true bones to crack, at least in typical and traditional fashion, left the phantom desire lingering in the air.

Feeling the grooves of his teeth, he breathed in slowly, as he waited for the reply. Yes, how much indeed. Aver might have exuded some sense of calm and even cordial attitude, but Loray stuck with his rigid and fixed expression. Indifference, dosed with the slightest hint of impatience, the lighting would reflect the annotated notes of his thoughts, all surmised into a general disdain for whatever place they currently existed in.

Metallic, bland, whirling and buzzing. The leftovers of a life left behind, old habits were finding themselves harder to remove than he might have expected.

[member="Rigor"] | [member="Aver Brand"]​

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Aver Brand"] | [member="Loray Tares"]​

​

Rigor said nothing for a moment.

Instead the droid observed the two humanoids. It was unsure of their species or their origin, it would have to do further scans and tests to completely understand that, but it understood that both figures were in fact force users. This knowledge was derived from data that had been earlier provided via a source from Vanir Technologies. It watched them for a moment more, it's 'eyes' simply folding over the woman, then the man. The soft subtle orange hue of it's gaze shifted once more before they finally settled upon the woman that had stepped forward to acknowledge and speak with the droid.

[Vanir Technologies will provided services at cost] Rigor relayed with it's standard monotone. [Provided there are no excessive complications from your own endeavors post your operations the company will hold no sway in your lives]

The droid stated simply, dashing any curiosities of if there would be any issues with what Vanir Technologies and these people had come to terms with. [We presume the original bargain of two organics is still in effect]

Rigor needed to know if there would be a third.

The droid was intelligent enough that it could adapt were circumstanced to change, and with organics, force users especially, things often tended to change. The automaton shifted slightly, it's gaze moving towards the other figure that had so far remained completely silent. Rigor, in some form, appreciated that silence. The droid often found it trying when organics tried to speak over one another, something that they tended to do far too often.

 

[Aver Brand]

On some level, it was disconcerting doing business with someone who didn't show inflection – and wouldn't know how to even if it wanted, she suspected – but on the other hand, she appreciated the direct approach. Around people, things had a tendency to devolve into a game of tiptoeing and careful wording; here, she could simply speak without all the baggage attached. It was… freeing.

A curt nod was her only response for a few seconds, mind going back to the sleek ship that she'd once claimed ownership of. The stunt she'd pulled in order to transfer it still brought a self-satisfied smirk to her face, and for once, the expression was freely visible.

She'd docked the SD for scheduled maintenance, leaving only a skeleton crew whose loyalty was to the Hand and a few well-greased credits. The 'mechanics' had come looking like the regular Sith personnel, when in reality they had been anything but. The next day, the woman had taken the Imperious back into deep space under the pretense of rejoining Par av Mor Adone, and then the ship was gone.

"That is correct. Just the two of us," she jutted her thumb in the direction of [member="Loray Tares"], well aware that her companion's mask obscured whatever emotion – likely boredom and contempt – was currently furrowing the lines of his face. Probably for the better, too.

Normally, she'd consider giving the ship away out of the question, but where they'd been going, they wouldn't need the imposing Star Destroyer. It was far too visible, recognisable, and, well, large. A ship like that was useful for Generals who commanded planetary invasions; for two nameless mercs, it would've been nothing but a dangerous burden.

"When do we get started?"

Aver hoped that some sort of aversion to wasting time had been programmed into [member="Rigor"], because she sure as Nether wasn't interested in standing around the backwater chithole of a planet any longer.

 

[Loray Tares]

Just the two of us. He quietly wondered, through seething glare, if the other piece to their trio would have tagged along. He doubted it, not with the enhancements that already adorned her small frame, cosmic power and ability wrapped into flesh and phrik embellishments. It seemed it was, just in fact, the two of them.

He didn't have much to add in the way of this conversation, the context of spinning the wheels of arrangements already solidified. There were a couple things anyone in the galaxy could count on, when this duo made an agreement. One, that they would keep to it, and two, that most people would probably not benefit from it. That was the nature of the arrangement, the glue that kept Loray hooked into this realm of reality. No prejudice, no picking sides except when properly coaxed to, simply chaos. It was the natural tendencies of the universe, it was the natural tendencies of this being trapped in it.

He looked towards Aver as she steered the question towards promptness. That was good, maybe she could sense the impatience of the masked figure, something this arbiter may have missed. After all, Loray provided very little in body language to allow ascertaining of such indicative moodiness. For a non force sensitive, he was entirely a blank canvass, which served his means as good as anything else.

Looking back towards the messenger, Loray tilted his head downward, concealing the mask just a bit more than the hood he currently wore. He was happy for this to begin and end as quickly as possible. He remained silent for his lack of interest in seemingly idle conversation. Besides, he enjoyed the more loquacious and domineering side of Aver.

[member="Aver Brand"] | [member="Rigor"]​

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Loray Tares"] | [member="Aver Brand"]​

​

The droid shifted slightly, simply motioning for the two figures to follow it. There was no need to keep speaking if the organics were so entirely thrilled with getting things done, no need to warn them of what was about to happen. It had originally been instructed to brief the two organics on all of the things that they would be confronted with over the next few weeks, the pain, the surgeries, the complications that could arise. It supposed that they already knew this, but corporations, especially ones like Vanir Technologies generally sought to keep their basis covered.

Of course, with these two it hardly mattered.

Both of these figures could end up bloody corpses on the side of the road and no one would care in the least.

Rigor moved through the warehouse, the two figured following behind it as the droid wandered past several large columns, through a central hallway, and eventually to a flat section of the buildings roof. It's metallic footsteps were eventually drowned out by the large droning of engines, the whine of repulsor lifts being spooled up and pushed to nearly taking off. The Droid passed through a large door, eventually revealing a Vanir Technologies Licid Class Corvette. The droid turned, facing the two organics once more before speaking, this time the drone of it's voice did not echo, though it was amplified enough to hear over the sound of the engines.

[The surgeries will take place at a medical facility on Carosi XII, a cloning installation owned by Vanir Technologies. If the case of complications arise it will allow the surgical team to have spare organs and blood on hand, better ensuring your survival] As with all surgeries, this one had risks. Rigor turned to the woman specifically. [For yourself, the procedures will begin aboard the shuttle en-route to the facility itself]

This was simply a consequence of her nature.

It was a problem that had been worked on previously, and Void Genetics had found it's solution for the problem. [If you wish to terminate this contract, now is the time to leave]

 

[Aver Brand]

When the droid turned away without another word and started walking, some of her displeasure visibly bled away. She didn't exactly smile, per se, but there was a faint shadow tugging at the corners of her mouth, suppressed by the gravity of the situation they'd found themselves in.

Happy to get the thing over with as soon as possible, the woman followed [member="Rigor"] at a healthy distance, and [member="Loray Tares"] likely wasn't far behind. A few turns and corridors later, and the curious trio emerged on the other side of the destitute building, once again relegated to the gray light of the cloudy day as they were made to wait in the courtyard while the droid spoke once more.

Its monotone drone was fraying her nerves more than she'd care to admit, but she recognized his speech as a necessary evil. At its final comment, Aver's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, a reaction so minute that it would remain undetected by all but the keenest of senses. Slowly, she exhaled and finally acquiesced with a curt nod, her posture straightening as she shifted her cool gaze to the corvette hovering a few paces away.

As with all matters of value, nothing could be gained without sacrifice. She and her masked companion knew that better than most, and still it sometimes caught her by surprise. Silently angry at her own complacency, Aver ground her teeth as she tried to expel the last of her lingering worry from her limbs.

No pain, no gain.

With that reminder clear in her mind, the woman walked past the metal construct to climb the ramp, disappearing into the bowels of the ship.

 

[Loray Tares]

He followed, prowling several foot steps behind with his head on a swivel. The warehouse interested him, in so much as a dimly lit vacant expression could. That was all the place was, another empty carcass with no purpose and no intending path forward. And until this messenger proved otherwise, Loray felt the same resentment towards him. Or it. Whatever he was, the masked figure view him with an indifference that his own victims could have only dreamed of obtaining.

The grey skies opened, weeping a insipid array of light that gave the ship just the smallest inkling of a shadow. Enough to know that it was indeed there, if the sound and rumble wasn't enough. Creaking as he moved, unique chime and scrape to his gait, he focused his attention back on the droid and not so much his companion. He would had have plenty of time to look at her in the near future.

His body language seemed to almost audibly shift at the suggestion of terminating the contract. The point of no return, the threat of damage and potential for far worse. Loray looked over to Aver as she moved forward, speaking of gains, and entering the ship. The man followed behind but stopped near the droid, gaze fixed on the exposed belly of the ship.

"Her procedure. It interests me." He turned his hidden expression towards the droid, glare of a glowing contempt. Red meeting orange. "I would very much enjoy to watch, if that suits." Without an answer back to suggest rejection, he slowly trudged up the ramp to follow the red headed woman.

[member="Aver Brand"] | [member="Rigor"]​

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Loray Tares"] | [member="Aver Brand"]​

​

The droid didn't particularly care one way or another, It wasn't programmed to.

When the man addressed Rigor the droid simply stared at him, it's 'eyes' flatly watching him as he spoke. Eventually the moment passed, and the strange organic moved on towards the ship. The droid stalled for a moment, though only to cast out its sensors over the open roof top. It searched for anyone, or any thing, watching or listening. This project was to be conducted in secret, ensuring that it remained so was part of why Rigor had been sent here.

That was why it had been Rigor, not some simple protocol droid or another agent of Saeva Incorporated. The droid could perform multiple functions that would be required over the next few days, including the piloting of the ship and the procedure that Aver would be undergoing within the medical bay. To say that Rigor was a multi-purpose tool was selling it short. Slowly the droid finished it's scan, shifting slightly and turning towards the ramp of the ship. As soon as it stepped a board a signal was sent out, the remote system within the Licid pinged, and the ramp began to lift as the Repulsor engines kicked into power and the ship began to rise into the air.

[You attendance will be required in the surgical bay] Rigor stated simply as it wandered past Aver and towards a large closed off section of the ship.

As Rigor passed through the ship the doors to the surgical bay fell open. Within was located a large white room, bright lights shone down onto a single table which sat in the center, illuminated perfectly. To the right of it was a table filled with surgical equipment, the walls were lined with a similar theme. To the left of the table was a cabinet filled with different vials, each one containing a fluid of some type, most containing the symbol of Void Genetics on their front.

 

[Aver Brand]

Even though she was already inside the ship when [member="Loray Tares"] made his remark, Aver's keen senses picked up on his grating, metallic cadence. Grinning at the comment, but not in the least perturbed by it, the woman instead followed the droid as it made its way towards the stern of the corvette. As they moved – a predatory stalk, leisurely yet ready to strike at a moment's notice – their metallic footing could be heard and felt rumbling as the ship prepared for takeoff, its engines stirring with the purr of an oversized Ralltiir tiger.

The only time she faltered was when the lights flickered on in the medbay, the shadow of unease passing over her features with all the permanence of a summer storn. Her brow furrowed slightly as she cast a long, piercing gaze at her surroundings, scrutinizing every inch of the surfaces and equipment, as if assessing its quality. If she were to be cut open, she wanted to know with what, at least.

Finally, her eyes settled on the only table in the room, calling to her mouth a smirk that she couldn't suppress even if she'd tried to. It reminded her vividly of the nearly identical slab somewhere deep in the dungeons of Prakith, the glinting alloy polished to a sheen as if in denial of the copious amounts of fluids that so often stained its visage. The irony was not lost on the firrerreo as she approached the table, running her fingers over the cool metal before she made to shed her clothes.

Without a shred of shame, the woman divested herself, folding every piece over the chair nearby until she stood barefoot and naked as the day she was born. A bit taller, granted, and somewhat more toned than the weeping babe that had been squeezed out of her mother's womb, but details hardly mattered. Soon enough, she would be covered in blood just the same.

As she moved to climb onto the table, the artificial light cascaded down her flexing back, revealing a pale patchwork of scars criscrossing the silver skin from her shoulder blades all the way down to the small of her back. The fact that it ended up looking like a web woven by some deranged spider never ceased to amuse Aver, even though it had hurt like a schutta back when it was fresh.

"Enjoying the view?" she shot at her masked companion, whom she knew would grow to enjoy it even more once [member="Rigor"] brought those fine, sharpened instruments to her flesh.

 

[Loray Tares]

A shimmer, his movement reflected malcontent, with every passing light lining the inner ceiling of the ship. With a fixed gaze upon first the droid, and then the woman, he felt the essence of himself urging for just a moment of reprieve. A moment of freedom. Excitement. Element turning hot against the kettle, he pulled the water away with a stretch of his neck and cracked of the bones. Biting back the feeling, the insistent persuasion, he padded quietly into the medical room to complete the very same investigation that Aver would. It was only natural that a corpse might inspect the coffin, prior to crawling in.

As she began to unravel, peeling away the false normalcy that they presented to the universe for the time being, he moved with idle purpose towards a metallic tray of tools. Cutting edges, scalpels, gauze, metallic devices. His hand hovered over the cold surgical steel, jealousy overwhelming him in that notion that when they were done with her, they would have nothing left for him. Of course, these weren't the concerns of the sane or well grounded, but fear, if it can be called that, comes in many forms for those unhinged.

With a quip from the woman, he turned his hidden expression to see her on full display. A sight he had seen before, one to revel in. One couldn't grow tired of it, in the same way he couldn't grow tired of bloodshed. The same way the weeds couldn't shirk from the mist. Walking forward, the click of his step against polished and sterile floor, he tilted his head to the expression of ice against pale skin. And placed his hand on her shoulder. It wasn't so much words that escaped his mind or lips, simply feelings. Feelings of anxiousness and envy and hunger. Hunger for consumption and its opposite. And attachment. With a gentle squeeze of her shoulder, he remained nearly motionless for the pause that followed.

Always.

Letting go, he moved away from the table and found a comfortable wall to lean against. He expected he might be asked to leave but there was a handy enough viewing room, possibly for teaching. Crossing his arms, he waited for the surgery to begin.

[member="Aver Brand"] | [member="Rigor"]​

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Loray Tares"] | [member="Aver Brand"]​

​

Rigor wandered passed the masked man, passed the nude woman on the table, and passed the surgical tools towards the vials that sat on the opposite cabinet. The droid selected one of the vials, a strange blue liquid that seemed almost the consistency of blood. It held the vial for a moment, scanning the contents for a moment before slowly shaking the small glass cylinder. Another half second passed as the fluid spiraled around within it's container, it's color having changed to a deep purple, small flecks of something floating within.

Satisfied, the droid once again crossed over to the other side of the room.

On the table filled with surgical supplies was what looked to be a small gun, an auto-injector that had been designed by Xarnin Medical Technologies. Rigor scooped up the device and slowly slid the small vial of liquid into the slot on the back of it. The droid checked over the device, flipping a small switch and twisting the vial into place before wandering over to Aver and picking up a plastic package from the same table. It tore the package open using dexterous fingers then removed a small wet napkin from within the plastic.

The wet nap was gently dabbed onto Aver's arm, pressed against her skin with a delicate touch that one might not have expected from a droid like Rigor. After a few seconds Rigor placed the tip of the gun against Aver's skin, pulling the trigger. There was a loud hiss, as pressurized gas pressed the vial's contents through Aver's skin and into her blood stream. The droid took the device away, placing it on the table then waiting for a second. [You may get dressed now]

The vial that Rigor had just injected Aver with was a compound designed by Void Genetics specifically for Aver herself. The woman was of a species known for it's advanced healing capabilities, and although this would normally not present an issue, the surgery that would be taking place would likely take several hours, if not days, to properly conduct. In such a time her advanced healing would begin to get in the way. As such, the compound that she had just been injected with would begin to slow that healing, allowing the surgeons to operate as though Aver were a standard human being. Simple enough really.

Why she had to get undressed for something so simple was a mystery to Rigor, organics were strange.

 

[Aver Brand]

Anti-karking-climactic.

She stared at the droid with an odd mix of annoyance and surprise, but there was nothing she could do. Somehow, Aver doubted that VT would appreciate her destroying the stationery, especially such advanced elements like [member="Rigor"]. Unpleasant… but necessary.

Willing the grooves in her brow to smoothness once more, the woman slipped off the table, bare feet padding across the cool ground to where her clothing lay folded on an empty counter.

"When do we arrive?" she asked over her shoulder as she finished buckling her belt, leaning down to collect her boots.

Aside from a slight sting in her left arm, there were no visible changes, and if all went well, there wouldn't be any for the duration of this whole ordeal. Given the nature of the procedure her and [member="Loray Tares"] would be subject to, the liquid now coursing through her veins was nothing short of compulsory. Anything less, and the doctors over on Carosi would be thoroughly inconvenienced by her healing factor. She wasn't happy with the situation, mind you, but she wasn't so bull-headed as to realize its necessity.

Didn't mean she had to be pleasant about it, though.

 

[Loray Tares]

Disappointment filled his aura as he watched this procedure, expecting a far more intense and graphic display. Even more so as he watched Aver move back to her clothes to re-molt. How very disappointing, indeed.

Shaking his masked visage, ever so slightly, he continued to maintain his position against the wall. Arms crossed, gaze drifting about, as if searching for some mysterious thing. Something he could define. Perhaps it was his patience, the safety switch for the loose cannon he was quickly becoming. The power to turn down the heat, the power to reclaim his sanity and the calm stillness that imparted his mind prior to the transfer. But he was quickly finding that this bed, made in haste, was one he was going to have to sleep in for the rest of what remained of his life. That presence was dead, as far as he was concerned, and the thought of reintroduction made him sick to his stomach.

The universe worked naturally on entropy and so would he. And those in his way would either benefit or be damned by the forsaken approach he took to conscious and will power. Just because others would gain advantage for his invigorated sense of morals and honor, it didn't mean he would. After all, where was the fun in self-imposed rules?

Turning his head back to the droid, he adopted silence once more, contemplating what answer it might provide. Surely it couldn't be long.

[member="Rigor"] | [member="Aver Brand"]​

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Loray Tares"] | [member="Aver Brand"]​

​

[Sixteen hours, thirteen minutes and forty three seconds] An exact answer, but one wouldn't expect less from a droid. [You may begin to feel some discomfort within the hour]

Nobody said it would be painless.

The serum itself worked quite nicely, though it would be difficult to produce such a thing without the added benefit of there being pain. The droid suspected that this would not be an issue for the woman, at least not in any real sense, but then again it did not have a winning track record in predicting the issues of organics.

With a shift the droid turned towards the cockpit of the ship. Carosi, the facility in which the surgery was to be conducted was located in the outer rim, far away from any galactic governments and thus far away from any oversight. It was a cloning facility normally, the place where Vanir Technologies, and by extension Void Genetics conducted most of their more unethical experiments. It was a place that no one ever really went to, a place no one ever really cared about. That was the important thing.

Even if these two figures ended up as corpses, no one would care.

The trip would take time though, even with the hyperdrive installed aboard this ship. The Licid-class was meant as an ambulance of sorts, a way to transport the injured to more advanced facilities, that meant it's engines and hyperdrive were quite sophisticated. Even they, however, required time to cross the galaxy. [Make yourselves comfortable]

It was not a command, but a stringent suggestion.

 

[Aver Brand]

A nod was her only indication that she head it, but there was no doubt it sufficed. They weren't here to make small talk, least of all with a droid, of all people. Things?

Shrugging the idle thoughts away, the woman wandered out of the medbay and into the corridor beyond, peeling her eyes for anything resembling a chair. Or a bed, should she be so lucky. With sixteen hours to go and very little in the way of entertainment on board, the best course of action at the moment seemed like a a few hours of rest. Her best bet was falling asleep as soon as possible, before the pain that [member="Rigor"] had promised kicked in.

She had no way of knowing just how bad it would be, and for a multitude of reasons, the woman didn't much care to find out.

[member="Loray Tares"], however… he was sure to be interested. Bidding him to join her on one of the cots for patient transport, Aver kicked off her boots for the second time that day, settling back with a soft sigh. Her eyes drifted closed as she let consciousness fold into herself, racing down the lanes of her mind in search of one particular sliver that had lodged itself at the base of her spine a long, long time ago.

Rev, she greeted it jovially, a hint of a smile passing over her face. I have a… pain for you.

Cracking one eye open, the firrerreo met the crimson stare of her companion, peering at her through the red line of his visor. She grinned.

"It's all yours, if you want it." She knew he would. "I'm going to catch some shut-eye."

 

[Loray Tares]

Sixteen hours. Thirteen minutes. Forty three seconds. He looked over, and inwardly, at the red head. To gauge her reception. Was this timing a good thing, was it a bad thing? Loray had dived so deep into the mire of hatred, of pain, and fixation, that he now flew his ship in a cloudy sky. Which way was up, which was down? Did it matter? No. One second, 16 hours, a millennium. When celestial beings measured time in eternities, they could have found insult in the wasted second, when purpose was righteous. Why couldn't he?

Whether it was wasted or not, that didn't matter. An affront was an affront, perceived or fictitious.

Turning to follow Aver through the ship, the corridor and all in search of bedding, he rested against the threshold of a room. Kicking off her boots, she slumped into the bed and got comfortable. Experiencing the slightest tickle at the back of his throat, he pressed finger between collar and flesh, stretching the fabric for breath. It wasn't until she looked over to him, a sly grin painting her expression, that he understood the point. Something left off, siphoned off and stored for later. And now was that later.

Following her example, he shut the door to the room and kicked off his boots. And the mask. Sliding onto the cot next to her, his hand hovered over her shoulder as an indifferent expression shifted to one of anticipation. Like a seed, growing deep beneath the surface, the pain was there, waiting to take root. And just like on Manaan, as he had siphoned the pain from the Atrisian for his own pleasure, he began to massage and palpate the perceived nodule of misery. However faint.

Laying his head down on the pillow behind her, he closed his eye and breathed in slowly. Like a warm blanket, the pain welled out from her body and into his, wrapping around him. In a show of reciprocity, he pulled her tightly against his chest, enclosing her with his arm.

[member="Aver Brand"] | [member="Rigor"]​