Ignatius
A N A R C H Y
Coruscant
Underworld Level 1313
There comes a time, when you should just watch the world burn. However, in this case, I was the one who was going to be setting it off. Walking through the length of the level, well known for its darker elements of criminals, and gangs. Namely, I was looking for one specific gang that kept trying to pull some stupid chit. My hand rising to my face. Rubbing the permanent stitches that held my skin together. The pain they caused, while irritating, was fuel for me. Constant pain to keep myself angry, hatred, and seething with power. Coming up to this place called "Shadow Lounge" I walked in the door. Looking up to see a number of patrons were just enjoying themselves. Mainly, some scantily clad females were trying to get money and drinks from people who didn't know how to think with the right head.
Looking around, still not moving from just inside the threshold of the door, I called out to the place.
"Who here is Amon from the Black Heth?"
The music continued to play. However, the silence of the patrons became deafening. A man stood up. Deveronian. One of his two horns had been damaged, but left there and not shaved down. Making a few fingers across his throat, the music died. He looked to me and asked in front of everyone.
"Who's asking pretty boy?"
I chuckled Pretty boy? I rolled up the sleeves I wore. Showing off the burns, and scars I carried. Lifting my head high enough it looked almost like I wanted to look at the ceiling. However, my eyes were locked onto the man. A crude and almost painful smile drew across my lips. Only looking worse by the opening wound across my cheek as if my mouth was much wider than it was supposed to be by human standards.
"I asked. Now answer, or I'll drag you down to level 4 and see how long you last."
The man got angry at that. About to go after me but a hand reached up. Stopping him. Another stood up. This one was a human. Clearly in charge with the scars on his face, and the mechanical arm. Nothing to make it look nice. Crude in construction, but still worked. Standing up, he crossed the distance between me and the table. Standing in front of me to be just a little under my own height, but not so much a difference that we couldn't look eye to eye. Clearly much beefier than I was, he nodded his head at me.
"What do you want Scarface?"
"I have a couple questions."
"Go for it."
"Why do you steal and kill random civilians?"
"We take what we want, from who we want."
"Okay."
"You said you had a couple questions?"
"How well do you handle heat?"
The man was taken back for a moment at my last question. furrowed brow, he broke eye contact with me to look around. like it was a stupid question. As his head came back around, both of my hands slapped to either side of his head. Suddenly, flames burst from within his head, and out the back. Blowing up his head before falling to the ground on fire.
"GET HIM!"
The Deveronian yelled to get at me. Standing there, as blasters raised up to fire at me, I waved my hand. All of the weapons were thrown to the side. The other hand lifted up, in front of them, and with a snap, all of those who raised a weapon against me, had their clothes ignited into blue burning flames. Mixed with reds and oranges and yellows of the flames from them burning up. All the other patrons were screaming, trying to escape. Taking a step backwards outside past the threshold, I closed the door with a wave of my fingers. Taking one finger, and placing it between the frame and the door itself. tracing it down from top to bottom to weld it shut with heat.
Walking away as the lounge would be quickly up in flames and smoke, I rolled down my sleeves.
"Third one this week that answers wrong."
Making my way to be somewhere else, all I could smile at was how so many of these gangs just wanted to kill, steal, and cause problems for people without a reason. They had none. NO REASON for their actions. They were fake, they did it for their own desires. So now, I was giving them a final lesson.
Underworld Level 1313
There comes a time, when you should just watch the world burn. However, in this case, I was the one who was going to be setting it off. Walking through the length of the level, well known for its darker elements of criminals, and gangs. Namely, I was looking for one specific gang that kept trying to pull some stupid chit. My hand rising to my face. Rubbing the permanent stitches that held my skin together. The pain they caused, while irritating, was fuel for me. Constant pain to keep myself angry, hatred, and seething with power. Coming up to this place called "Shadow Lounge" I walked in the door. Looking up to see a number of patrons were just enjoying themselves. Mainly, some scantily clad females were trying to get money and drinks from people who didn't know how to think with the right head.
Looking around, still not moving from just inside the threshold of the door, I called out to the place.
"Who here is Amon from the Black Heth?"
The music continued to play. However, the silence of the patrons became deafening. A man stood up. Deveronian. One of his two horns had been damaged, but left there and not shaved down. Making a few fingers across his throat, the music died. He looked to me and asked in front of everyone.
"Who's asking pretty boy?"
I chuckled Pretty boy? I rolled up the sleeves I wore. Showing off the burns, and scars I carried. Lifting my head high enough it looked almost like I wanted to look at the ceiling. However, my eyes were locked onto the man. A crude and almost painful smile drew across my lips. Only looking worse by the opening wound across my cheek as if my mouth was much wider than it was supposed to be by human standards.
"I asked. Now answer, or I'll drag you down to level 4 and see how long you last."
The man got angry at that. About to go after me but a hand reached up. Stopping him. Another stood up. This one was a human. Clearly in charge with the scars on his face, and the mechanical arm. Nothing to make it look nice. Crude in construction, but still worked. Standing up, he crossed the distance between me and the table. Standing in front of me to be just a little under my own height, but not so much a difference that we couldn't look eye to eye. Clearly much beefier than I was, he nodded his head at me.
"What do you want Scarface?"
"I have a couple questions."
"Go for it."
"Why do you steal and kill random civilians?"
"We take what we want, from who we want."
"Okay."
"You said you had a couple questions?"
"How well do you handle heat?"
The man was taken back for a moment at my last question. furrowed brow, he broke eye contact with me to look around. like it was a stupid question. As his head came back around, both of my hands slapped to either side of his head. Suddenly, flames burst from within his head, and out the back. Blowing up his head before falling to the ground on fire.
"GET HIM!"
The Deveronian yelled to get at me. Standing there, as blasters raised up to fire at me, I waved my hand. All of the weapons were thrown to the side. The other hand lifted up, in front of them, and with a snap, all of those who raised a weapon against me, had their clothes ignited into blue burning flames. Mixed with reds and oranges and yellows of the flames from them burning up. All the other patrons were screaming, trying to escape. Taking a step backwards outside past the threshold, I closed the door with a wave of my fingers. Taking one finger, and placing it between the frame and the door itself. tracing it down from top to bottom to weld it shut with heat.
Walking away as the lounge would be quickly up in flames and smoke, I rolled down my sleeves.
"Third one this week that answers wrong."
Making my way to be somewhere else, all I could smile at was how so many of these gangs just wanted to kill, steal, and cause problems for people without a reason. They had none. NO REASON for their actions. They were fake, they did it for their own desires. So now, I was giving them a final lesson.
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