I spy...... myself?

[Ignatius]

Javin was a planet that I had not seen.

In the Fringe space, or in other words, a place where there were a group of people that worked for the same goals, I looked around myself. In the capitol city of Javin, I adjusted the Warden cloak, the Leviathan Bracers that I wore on my arms and smiled as the wind blew on my face. Reminding me of the sky in which I could roam. For now, I was stuck on the ground. Gabriel was still at the ship to make sure that nobody took it. The Merc that I had taken under my wing was a gun I could use. However, he was more. I knew that. I hoped that he could be trained in the force. I could feel it within him, but had decided not to tell him just yet. He could follow my actions with precise actions that most others could not.

Removing my mind from the man, I handed over some credits. In return I was handed a sandwich made out of some kind of bird for the meat and greens to keep it somewhat healthy. Biting down, I felt the juices of the meat slide into my mouth and under my tongue. A blast of flavors hit my mouth, and did it taste good. I thanked the man with a smile and a nod, even gave him an extra few credits as a tip.

Walking away as I took another bite, I smiled brightly as I could enjoy something for once. Even when I was armed to the teeth. I mean, the HP-101 slugthrower pistol was on my left thigh, and my sword, a Dauntless combat blade, was hanging over my right shoulder. Ready to be drawn in a moments notice. What I hoped for was maybe have some kind of light helmet so should I want to hide my face and head I could. But that would come later. Right now I was more interested in this sandwich.

Tasting very nice, I was about to take the last few bites when it was pushed out of my hands. I yelled out "HEY!" as the person who had been running continued to run. not even a second later three men in almost mercenary like gear ran after the person. I knew this was going to be bad. I looked down at the poor broken sandwich for a moment and then ran after the group of men, as well as this mysterious person. Running faster than the men, I slowed down just to simply follow them, and still not be seen. Maybe I could find who broke my sandwich and my joy of eating it, as well as see what was up with the running.

[member="Fable Merrill"],

(OOC: This is a somewhat open thread. Any Rogues, or people affiliated with the Fringe may enter the thread with a PM to myself or Fable should you want to join. Please do not post unless we give you the Okay or have been tagged.)

 

[Fable Merrill]

[member="Erin Ecthelion"]

It wasn't often that I had pocket change. It's possible that I might be allowed more of a stipend if I actually asked for it - but that would require asking for credits, and I don't think I could do that. Miss Merrill was my creator, not my parent, and receiving an allowance from her was something that struck me as somewhere between idiotic and conceited. Better to not ask, really. Better in every direction. Of course, that did raise the question of why I found it acceptable to practice glorified embezzlement - keeping a bit of the leftover expense accounts that were allocated to me for the various errands I ran.

I guess because THAT was money put in my hand, for my own discretion.

Between assignments, I'd found myself wandering around Javin to see what there was to see, upon the recommendation of one of the women who worked for Miss Merrill. Try some food, she'd said. See the sights. Appreciate what Miss Merrill had been working for for so long. Or whatever. I really didn't understand it, but Javin WAS a nice place. Just.... really busy. I hadn't ever really been around THIS MANY people at once - which might be why that lady recommended I go. Exposure, or whatever.

I wasn't sure how I felt about that. Maybe I wasn't supposed to feel a certain way about it at all? People were confusing.

But what I DID know my feelings about were ciabatta breads and spicy sauces. All of those feelings were positive, too. Emerging from behind the curtain of a streetside stall with a ciabatta sandwich in hand, I decided that I'd just find someplace with a nice view to sit and eat my lunch. Watch the people come and go, and think about their lives. That'd be a nice afternoon. But there was no way I could wait that long - I needed a taste. Poultry and greens, pickles and wonderful, lightly toasted. I my mouth was already watering. Pausing briefly, casting a surreptitious glance behind myself, I delicately unwrapped the sandwich wrapper and let the wonderful aroma of freshly baked artesian bread serenade me with it's grainy promise of an amazing lunch...

Suddenly, my world was spinning. Wha-? I'd been hit!

And now on the ground?! Dizzy, I watched as my sandwich landed in the street, splattered into an unsalvageable mess. The heel who'd hit me ran off down the street. Adding insult to injury, three bounty hunters after that heel tromped all over the remains of my poor, formally perfect lunch.

In a hearbeat, I was on my feet - after the guy who owed me a new lunch. I didn't have the money to buy another one of those! Anger thrummed in my ears, driving me forward. And gosh, but this new coat Miss Merrill had made me felt cool when I was running, fluttering out behind me like a cape with my saber jangling on it's belthook.

 

[Ignatius]

Not only had the person knock one person, me, to the ground to lose their food or whatever they were holding. I watched as he grabbed people and threw them into the path of the Mercenaries. He then ran into a girl and caused her to fall over. Instead of helping her up, I thought she could deal with whatever while four guys were chasing one. I continued to run and realized my foot was slipping. I probably stepped on whatever the woman had as I had passed her. Looks like I might pay for something later, but right now, I wanted my own money back for my own sandwich.

Continuing to run after. I was getting tired of this. I didn't want to expose myself and who I really was. While I was running, I slowed down just a little to pull out a S-5 blaster pistol. I twisted the dial on the side to set the weapon to stun. I kept my finger off the trigger for now as I was running. looking up, I could see that someone else was behind me. I turned to look. Seeing the woman from earlier. Only now did I notice that she was wearing some kind of training, or battle gear that was almost raven black. Much like my own style. Looked pretty cool with the flap of the battle skirt that she was wearing, but I turned back around and began to run faster.

Zooming around the corner, I turned to see that the man was trying to climb a fence. I could see that the mercs would not make it. I smiled as I stopped, With a rush, a crate smashed him on the side of the head as he was trying to get up. Rushing over, I held a pistol to him. Maybe the fear of weapons would keep him still. But I mean, three other mercenaries were holding two blaster rifles and even a slughtrower shotgun. All lethal. I just wondered if the man was up to having this, and the woman's wrath hang against him.

"Stop moving!" one of the men yelled. Slamming his foot into the man's side as he was trying to get up. I cringed slightly knowing that a kick to the stomach with an armored boot really did hurt more than it looked.

[member="Fable Merrill"]

 

[Fable Merrill]

[member="Erin Ecthelion"]

Whatever this guy had done, it had to be serious. He had a bunch of armed men chasing him! All of a sudden, I didn't feel so bad about the sandwich I'd list. Still a little upset, but the guy had bigger things to worry about. Like, four armed gun men who'd just brought his escape to a dramatic and screeching end. There was little chance of him paying me back for that sandwich, now. Or paying back anyone's sandwiches, ever again.

Jogging to a stop a safe distance from the whole mess - close enough to hear what was going on, but not close enough to be grabbed - I curiously watched what was going on. Was I still hungry? Sure. But something interesting was happening, and no matter what this guy had done, I'd feel bad if he turned out to get murdered or something in the streets while I was griping about my lunch. Besides, one of the guys who was with the Mercenaries (or just after the same guy and not affiliated with them) was...

My eyes went wide, my heart started racing. He looked... he looked like me! Sort of. He had the same kind of general appearance, I guess? Sort of like me. Maybe it was his taste in coats (which was impeccable) or something else, but he looked like the brother it would have been impossible for me to have. That, alone, was worth seeing what this was all about. Maybe he'd have some idea who my Gene Donor was. Maybe he was from the same string, or an anomaly from a different batch. B-V19 had had blonde hair somehow, so it couldn't have been impossible, right?

 

[Ignatius]

Clearly visible. I looked and watched as the men were hitting him. Some kind of trouble. Curses were thrown out from the three men as the butts of their rifles and shotguns were used to bash his head in. Yes, I wanted him to pay for my sandwich, but being beaten was not a suitable or appropriate punishment. This was wrong. I held back for a moment. Thinking that maybe he had attacked them then ran away. All three men looked fine and able to fight. I put my pistol away and decided to bring the fear factor out.

I drew the sword that was placed on my back. The Dauntless combat blade was a weapon not to be messed around with. Holding it in one hand I spoke a word loud enough for all of them around us to hear me. "Stop."

The three men looked at me like I was crazy. Watching my reaction as I spun the blade around to end at the neckline of the closest man. His eyes went wide with a sword pointed to his throat. Even if I was "just a kid" I was dangerous with a sword. Either skilled beyond my years, or have no skill at all. I was dangerous in many ways. Skills mean you had the aptitude to perform very well. Precise. While not having the skills meant that if I messed up in where I hit, it could mean the "accidental death" of this man. Simply because I was too stupid to use one correctly.

From the looks of my arm not shaking, not wavering, and my face void of emotion, I was probably the guy with skills to back up the sword that was held in my hand. I had a poor thought of the men I had fought with such a weapon. Paying dearly for their wrongdoings, or in defense of myself.

"You three will drop your weapons, and walk out of here with your lives." I pushed my blade forwards. Letting the tip draw blood from the man's neck. Only enough to be a trickle and a threat to his life. "Or I will give you the same treatment of this man." I slowly took my stance, Spreading my legs out and having my left hand come out as though to balance myself. The sword still pressing on the man's flesh. "Your choice."

I usually didn't help people. They could deal with their lives like I had, but when someone's life was on the line, when someone has a threat of harm done unto them, I would intervene. Beating someone while they were on the ground was not a good way to fight. It was not a moral way to fight. I had a good idea about how people react to actions done to them. I would have been not surprised if the man on the ground started to hit people left and right in fear of his life. Instead of him doing the fighting, My blade would be the Mercenaries' judgment. Though I would not kill the Mercs. I only wanted to scare them, and only attack unless absolutely necessary.

[member="Fable Merrill"]

 

[Fable Merrill]

[member="Erin Ecthelion"]

The boy had a sudden crisis of morality, and was taking a stand!

Nonono! What if he got killed or something! He might have answers!

I had to do something. It couldn't be just a coincidence that this boy looked so much like me, he had to be from the same genome string, donor, or related to that donor. And if, by asking him, I could get answers? Well... I'd feel better about things in general. I resolved to intervene if things got violent - even if the boy had a sword, he was up against three gunmen. Three gunmen with rifles.

And one with a pistol. The guy without a sword pointed directly at him dropped his hand towards the small of his back, and before I could will it, my feet were carrying me around the corner and closer. The perfunctory amount of training I'd had meant little compared to the muscle memory and reflexes forced into my psyche by my conditioning. Even if that muscle memory felt that my legs weren't long enough and that my center of gravity was off, I could manage.

Pistol Guy heard my footsteps a moment too late to do something about it. He was bigger than me - and once closer, I realized HOW much bigger - but I had to make up for that with speed! My leg whipped around, hair flowing like a war banner, and slammed into the curve of his wrist just as his hand grabbed the grip of his concealed pistol. I didn't have enough force to knock him more than a half-step forward, but I felt - and heard - the sick crack of his wrist under my blow.

 

[Ignatius]

And that's when the fight started.

I saw from the side of my vision that the girl was moving. She also saw the man's hand move for something behind him. I already knew it was some kind of weapon. My face broke into a smile as when I let my sword drop. The woman grabbed the mans hand and snapped it as a second man with a rifle fired at me. The projectile, A red bolt of energy. Smacked into my chest. And with a shimmer my body faded into nothing. I brought down my illusion to be standing behind the third man.

During the man's slow drawing of the weapon, I used an illusion created by the force to make everybody there think I was there, when in real time, I had slinked over behind the man holding the shotgun. I went for him first because he had a scatter shot weapon. It was harder to defend against. as well, I didn't want to have pellets in my body.

As the image shimmered my open hand came up grabbing the stock of the shotgun in front of the man, and yanking down to the man's own foot. In a blast, his foot was no mush and a deformed hunk of flesh. Stringing leather and cloth that had once been a boot. In a quick reaction, my hand released the stock and flew back to bash my elbow into the man's nose. Bursting with blood like an explosion of a grenade. Only the strings of debris had a crimson hue of blood rather than the orange of a fire. My elbow flared up in pain as my funny bone, or accurately the tendon and nerve endings were hit hard enough to send a shock up my arm in retaliation.

Spinning to the second one, I brought up my dauntless combat blade just in time to use the flat of the sword in a form of protection against the blaster fire he sent at me. Feeling the heat and sparks fall onto my hands. Holding onto the sword with a two handed grip. One, possibly two men were down. A broken hand did not mean he could not fight back somehow. Nonetheless, There was really only one guy to deal with. I didn't want to kill them. While death, a natural process of the cycle of life, was morbid or even joyful in some cases. In this moment for me, it was morbid. Unnecessary. If they still fought, even if they were defeated, then killing would be the last option I would come across.

[member="Fable Merrill"],

 

[Fable Merrill]

[member="Erin Ecthelion"]

Gunfire! Disappearing boys! Excitement!

My blood sang and boiled, my fists cried out for use. This was when I felt most alive! Talking made me nervous, idleness made me restless, questions made me quiver. But a test of my skill, of my determination, when failure meant possible death and success meant life? The universe made sense. I made sense. This was, after all, what I was made to do. Who I'd been made to be.

The man with the pistol and the broken wrist twirled around, his face a mask of pain and wrath. Emotions were excess. If you had time to grimace, you had better be acting swiftly - and he wasn't. When he turned, he brought up his rifle. Moron - did he really think I'd let him shoot me with that? I was already close enough that he couldn't bring the weapon to bear on me. Some people.

He discovered too late the awkward angle he'd have to put his arm at to shoot me, and I made sure to exploit it. My next blow was little more than an open-palm strike to his offending wrist, pushing the attack away. The next was more offensive. I drove my elbow into his solarplexus, knocking the wind out of him. That was mostly so he'd bend over and I'd be able to reach something more crucial, though.

As he bent over, clutching his chest and gasping for air, I took a half step back and spun again - this time my boot hammered into the man's jaw, a swift side-kick that sent him crumpling to the ground in a tangled heap of fat limbs and bad life choices. How much good had his precious weapons done him, at this point?

Tightening my gloves, I turned my attention to the last mercenary - which my doppleganger had already subdued at swordpoint, having subdued the other one. I took a half-step back, allowing him to decide how this would be finished, rather than speaking up.

 

[Ignatius]

I could see from my side that the young woman had almost literally beat the crap out of the man. Hand to had combat. she excelled, or had proper training in it's use. I would have to be careful of her and her hands, or really, anything that she could use as a weapon. As they say, even the beguine of objects can be used for violence. My attention turned back once more as a little twinge in my mind force me to look at the man. Warning me of trouble, or a pain that might come unto me. And I was right to do so. I had wasted a second thinking and allowed the man to take another few shots at me.

The flat of the blade was open and facing the man and myself letting the blaster shots leave dark pit marks on the sword. Not actually damaging the blade, but leaving burnt residue on the face. The man was not that far, but he had to reload. And that was his mistake. A term used by soldiers goes, "The fastest reload is to have a second gun." Almost literally meaning, if you run out of ammo, best to throw it to the side for a moment, to draw on a second one and use it. You would take two seconds, instead of five. A second in a battle, was a long time.

Long enough for someone to come up close and personal. I rushed the man and twisted my wrist to use the sword pommel as a weapon. Slamming it into the mans stomach. Not enough to force the air out of his lungs, but enough to send him bending over. Exposing the back of his neck, I took my open hand, even with the shock still running in my arm, and used a open palm in a karate chop on his spine. In a clack, the rifle fell from his hands and reached up to cover his neck. Exposing his stomach again where I used my off hand, wrapping it around the back of his head, and pulled down.

I felt a rush of pain to my knee as it collided with his face. A loud crack came from him. I bent over rubbing my knee and looking up as the three men around us were on the ground, writhing in pain. In a simple lifting movement, I replaced the sword in the sheath and held my left hand in my right. Trying to rub out the pricks of pain from my fingers and palm. It hurt, but I could deal with it.

I looked to the woman to see if she was okay, and then to the man we had been chasing. He was now standing up and with a surprised face asked one rhetorical question. "Who the hell are you two?"

[member="Fable Merrill"],

 

[Fable Merrill]

[member="Erin Ecthelion"]

Generally speaking, trying to kill someone who was both holding you at swordpoint and had handily dispatched at least a third of your party? Not the most tactically sound decision. When he fired, my hand went to my saber - but deflecting shots was a little outside my expertise, and thank the Force that he hadn't decided to put that to the test, too. Doppleganger had it under control.

Dusting my hands off on my coat, it occurred to me how odd this must look - this strange man had just been saved by two young people who looked startlingly alike, to the point of almost wearing the same outfits. It was almost funny, and I might have laughed if the confidence that combat had given me hadn't come crashing down on my head in a sudden rush.

Shifting my weight onto my back foot - in case the Hunted guy got it in his head to make a bid for freedom by foolishly attacking us, or Doppleganger was up to something nefarious, I knew what I wanted to say. Getting it out past my lips was another matter entirely. The words tangled on my tongue, refusing to be spoken, and I felt my face burn with embarrassment as, yet again, I wound up saying something stupid.

"Y-You owe me a, uh, sa-sandwich, sir."

 

[Ignatius]

I shook my head at the man. Asking us who we were. Looking to the young woman for a reaction, my eyes went open when I saw the lightsaber hilt in her hand. Unarmed combat, and the use of a Saber. She probably had the force as well. I was not so great at sensing others, and her force signature might not be powerful enough for me to feel. but now I could feel this vibe coming from her. Dangerous, yet shy. Almost as though she was not confident in her own voice.

I also noticed the similarities in our clothing styles. Black, grey, a coat and battle skirt, or kama like clothing. We looked to be almost like siblings. I thought I was an only child. With the question of my heritage in question, I wouldn't take the idea off the table. For now, I pushed it aside and focused on what was happening at the moment.

Her voice, shy, and almost wanting to hide in either shame, or embarrassment. Turning to the man, I walked a few steps towards us. Using my excuse of why I followed him for the both of us. "You were running and knocked things out of our hands. We both don't have access to a lot of credits and wish for you to pay us back for the damage you caused....." I had a pause before I was going to continue, but I was interjected by the man.

"I just got beaten half to a pulp and you want me to give you credits?" I held up a stop hand and shook my head. "We know that. We saw all of it, but let me point out, you would be dead if either of us were not here when they attacked you." The man's face was angry. Knowing we saved his life, but didn't want to pay up for it. muttering curses, he pulled a few credit chips and with stomps of anger, He came to me and thrust the credits into my chest. Catching them, He then began to stop away in the same manner.

I was silent. Thinking about how much he was ungrateful that we kept him alive. I didn't care why he was running anymore. A shake of my head, I walked to the woman, and handed her all the credits. I didn't really NEED any. And if she wasn't there, I would have had a harder time to take down those three men. They were still on the ground. "Thank you. Take these and go get yourself another sandwich."

Today was eventful, but with the thought of people possibly seeing this, and reporting it, or the men snitching on us. I didn't want to be here when they put up wanted signs, but I doubt it would get to that. Already I wanted a nap. With that in mind I started to walk away.

[member="Fable Merrill"],

 

[Fable Merrill]

[member="Erin Ecthelion"]

He was leaving? He was leaving. And he was leaving after filling my hands with credits. I don't need all of these! Only a couple of them would buy my sandwich back.

Hungry though I might be, extortion money didn't feel right. Even if the guy was an ungrateful heel. And besides which, I'd only done a third of the work. Doppleganger had taken out two of the men himself, he deserved at least two thirds of the take from it.

I caught up to Doppleganger easily - he seemed fairly invested in a dramatic walk away from the scene, after all, so a jog was all that was needed. Once I was relatively parallel, though, things weren't so easy. Who was he? Where was he from? Why did he look so much like me, but subtly different? What were his parents like? What kind of sword was that? Could he teach me to use one? Hadn't that been an awesome fight?

Surely someone that skilled enjoyed the process. Boys were strange, alien creatures - but they couldn't be THAT alien.

The words tangled up once I was walking alongside him, and for a moment, I said nothing. What could I say? Suddenly, all my questions felt silly and predictable. Insipid. Why waste his time? Hand shaking, I carefully extended half the credits - fair was fair, after all, and even if I didn't know what the devil to say, I could even the scales that much by paying him back.

Hopefully he took it, and I wouldn't have to argue the point. Please, don't make me argue the point.

 

[Ignatius]

I walked on. Moving from place to place for me was normal. I worked, and lived alone. Well, unless you count Gabriel. He was a guy I had hired to help me. I couldn't do everything by myself so sometimes he would come out. Other times, I or he would go alone. I came to stop at the street intersection when I could see someone in the side of my vision. I turned my head to see the young woman. Silent, and I could almost see the gears in her head turning in what to say or do. Maybe on how to continue being functional.

I looked down to her hand in a question as she extended a small handful of credits. She wanted me to have them? I reached out to grab for them slowly. Going to touch them as though they would shock me. My finger pads took a hold of two of them, and then let go. Dropping my arm, I turned to face her. looking at her intently. I opened my mouth to speak, but stopped. Closing my mouth, I sighed as I did so. Wondering why she had followed me. Any other person would have taken the credits and left. maybe with a question. Instead, this woman seemed to demand that I take my share.

"I don't need the credits miss." Formal, calling her miss when as kids, well as young adults really, was different than what someone else would say. "Keep them. Get a drink with your sandwich if you want." I stayed there. Unwavering, and unmoving she stood there. Arm out. Wanting me to take the credits, but that was not it. There was something else behind her motives. Part of me guessed that she too, had thoughts about our common appearance. So I started with that.

"Is there something else other than the credits that is on your mind?" Asking the question. Referring to whatever may be in the skull that housed her thoughts, dreams, and desires. Knowing that she might say something, or become more hidden, and shy.

[member="Fable Merrill"],

 

[Fable Merrill]

[member="Erin Ecthelion"]

Oh gosh.

Ohgoshohgosh.

I struggled briefly with my thrice-cursed stutter, before flushing and visibly struggling with my also-thrice-damned shyness. He'd asked me a direct question! Why was it so hard to just open my mouth and answer!? People did that sort of thing ALL THE TIME, Girl. Get your head out of whatever dark void you've sunk it into and just talk. It wasn't that hard. Come on. Mouth open, sounds out, ignore the way your cheeks feel like they're on fire. Now you're just wasting your own time, and his.

I couldn't help but look down, ashamed. He'd turned away his share. Was I really that pathetic? Looking up at the hauntingly familiar face through my bangs, I struggled a bit more before biting my lip and shaking my head, offering the credits again - this time earnestly, practically thrusting his half at him.

"P-Please. You did ha-half the work. I can't tuh.... take all of this." I managed, sounding like a perfect idiot for the attempt. Good job, stupid girl. Now he thinks you're soft in the head. Even if you ARE somehow related to him, he'd never want to acknowledge being tied to a stupid, stupid girl. Might as well be honest, now - it's not like his opinion could drop any lower at this point. "...I th-think we might be related." I finally spat out in a voice that sounded more a whimper. "I was, uhm, h-hoping you could... tell me your name? Wh-where you're from?"

A moment's delay before I remembered that manners were a thing. "My name is, uhm. Fable. You fight good."

IDIOT. GRAMMAR IS ALSO A THING. STUPID GIRL.

"WELL. You f-fight... you fight well."

 

[Ignatius]

Wow

Shy to an extreme level where she even stuttered. I thought at first she had some sort of problem with her voice. No. She was just overly shy. Once more wanting me to take the credits because I did most of the work. Really the only reason I could do that, was because I had training to do so. I might as well use it, and I had the availability to use them. I wouldn't doubt that if she had the ability, she would have done the same, if not more, than what I had done.

There was a silence where I knew she would continue. There was something else. And when she spoke about the thought of being related, a corner of my mouth rose slightly into a smirk as she asked for my name. Which was quickly replaced with her own, Fable, and a comment of my fighting being good. First in wrong grammar, then in correct basic. I broke into a half smile as she clearly was not used to interactions with others. Let alone, that of the opposite gender. I dipped my head almost in a light bow as I returned with my own words.

"Thank you for the compliment. I go by Erin Ecthlion." I shook my head slightly as I continued about her questions, "I grew up on Exocron, but left when I was only fifteen. Since then, I have been moving from place to place with my living conditions as a ship." By now I would have shook her hand, but I didn't for the fear of giving her a heart attack in choosing to take my hand in a shake or to not do as such. She was so shy that she seemed to forget that her hand was still out with the credits. I reached out and grabbed one. Fulfilling her want of me to take some, and let it slip into my pocket on the inside of my jacket.

"Just to possibly ease your thoughts, I too, had the thought of us being related or coming down from the same heritage." Most of the time I was known as a blunt person, but seeing as how if I were blunt to her, in her shyness, she may take me as a jerk, or not wanting to make conversation with her. I allowed myself to open up. And the information I told her was public. It's not like it was against the law to look up someone's name on a planet.

I looked around to see that people were walking around us. We were standing almost in the center of the walk way. I reached out and held my hand to the side of her arm and gently led her back towards the wall where we would be out of the way. "Maybe we should go somewhere else to talk?" A rhetorical question in it's form, yet could also be answered if needed.

[member="Fable Merrill"],