Nails in a coffin.

[Maris Fero]

[Upper Fourth, Efavan Low City, Vorzyd V (Gambler's World), Outer Rim.​

The upper fourth level had been long accepted as deep in into Carrik territory, though from week to week both the Shrikes and the Oddballs had been challenging that notion almost daily. Since the recent disappearance of their bombastic leader, Akro Mallit, the previously dominant Carrik gang had felt the shift in their fortunes. Stashes had been turned over, boltholes had been routed out and defections had become ever more common from day to day - the Carrik crew was dying, but in its failing strength the gang's desperation still made them a danger.

It was the Shrike, of course, who had benefitted most from the change of stakes.

When Maris had arranged Akro Mallit’s disappearance she hadn’t planned to keep the big guy alive at all. During the struggle to take him down the situation had shifted, Akro had killed two of her closest allies in the botched ambush, he had nearly killed her - would have killed her - if not for the incident.

She had told herself she kept the thug alive because she was better than he was, that she wasn’t a killer herself. Even when he asked her for it - begged her for release, she had kept him alive and talking. Maris tried to put the image of Akro Mallit from her mind, his hollow tired eyes, his bloody lips, the smell of decay she felt when near him. She felt at times as if she could feel the spirit draining from her old rival, almost imagining it channeling from Mallit and into her; a curdling, cloying lifespring.

Though she had never been taught the questions to ask, or the techniques to loosen the lips of the unwilling, Maris had found it surprisingly simple to break Akro Mallit. Days without food and nights without sleep had done wonders, and where violence had failed promises of kindness and softer words had pried secrets from the man’s lips.

Slowly but surely, the insights had allowed Maris to pick apart the failing gang, link after link breaking as the Shrikes eroded the foundations of their once-rival’s powerbase.

It was inevitable that her other true rival would catch on to the nature of the situation, unavoidable that the Selonian ganger, Melort and her mismatched gangs of weirdos and oddballs would take their share of the kill.

------------------------

It would be tomorrow night, two individual informants from the troubled Carrik territory had brought the tidings to Maris Fero independently of one another. Herk Mallit, the brother of Akro, would be meeting with Melort’s trusted Lieutenants to agree on terms of an alliance.

Her suspicions were that the failing Carriks - those who had survived her purge and the later scavenging - would not go quietly into the night. Instead, Maris believed that Herk would seek revenge, going so far even to suffer the shame of bending the knee to Melort, if it would offer revenge upon the Shrikes.

Melort would need to be crazy to accept those terms, but still, Maris would leave nothing to chance, the Carriks fate would be decided one night earlier, and at the hands of Maris Fero, for good or ill.


------------------------

“Rokko signal my comm when you see movement…” she breathed the words softly into the enforcer's ear, squeezing his arm as she turned away from the spotters position to look at the gathered thugs and soldiers she had summoned, they lingered in the shadows of the substack, some smoking bacca and some nervously eying one another. Each was armed with crude but effective weapons, each had been warned to minimise casualties - until she ordered otherwise.

They eyed Maris expectantly, even the bulkiest of the bruisers she had brought seemed unwilling to hold her gaze for long these days, despite the fading purple bruises from her recent black eye, and the nicked brow that was still healing none of the gathered considered their diminutive leader to be frail or delicate.

“This is the spot the Carriks are using to work out of, the last spot they think we don’t know.. They get the choice, join us in the Shrikes - or else.”

Or else…

How far would she go if they refused her? She had almost beaten Akro to death but not quite making it over the line, she had watched Mevo take his own life, watched Akro and Melort gun down Kaperko for a murder she had made him commit. Even as she thought of it she shook her head, she hadn’t made Kaperko kill, she had only wished for it.

Don’t make me choose. She prayed in silence, that same confident smile unflinching on her bruised lips as she eyed her loyal gangers in the gloom. “We take them tonight, just as soon as they show face.”

@[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Maris Fero"]


Far away from the blood-soaked, desolate battlefields of the endless wars between Jedi and Sith, 'Light' and 'Dark, the gangs of Efavan Low City, located upon the world of Vorzyd, fought their own wars. Few of them had ever left their homeworld - or even their slum of birth - and traversed the stars. But though their own conflicts were fought for smaller turfs and with more primitive armaments, they were just a reflection of the the code that governed the universe.


The strong do as they will, and the weak suffer what they must. Enyo had adhered to this iron rule ever since she had freed herself from the shackles her creators had forced on her. So when she came to Efavan, she sensed opportunity.


Power was shifting, and the Carrik were under pressure. They were desperate. The Selonians were sensing that the tide was turning as well. This meeting was about more than Herk Mallit swallowing his pride and bending a knee before his rival Melort and her gang of misfits.


It would also pull both into the embrace of the aptly named Iron Fist Consortium, who had offered protection in return for submission. They were newcomers on this world. Couple months ago no one in the criminal underworld would have heard of them, but they'd been making waves.


They were...strange. Their members were almost universally cyborgs. Their goons seldom said a word in public, communicating via their implants. Their numbers were small compared to the big syndicates, but they were well-equipped and when they struck, they did so with the discipline of a military unit. They also exacted brutal vengeance on those who crossed them.


Enyo Typhos' speeder swept down from the night sky, accompanied by two other craft, loaded with her cyborg escort. Their destination was the meeting place between Herk and Melort. The gangsters would know of their coming. They might delude themselves into thinking that their potential patron would be benign.


This word did not exist in Enyo's dictionary. "Be prepared for betrayal," she transmitted as they made their approach, swooping down from the heavens to touch down upon the ground. They had a sniper performing overwatch - and wasp droids would be deployed for recon. "If they screw us over, we make an example of them."


"Heads, spikes, walls," Neda Chazzak, her faithful Zabrak lieutenant quipped. She was close enough to the Boss to get away with such levity whilst on a mission. The meeting place was close.


"Captives will be incorporated." Incorporation was a good euphemism for assimilation. It carried a special meaning in the Iron Fist. Her eyes stared out into the darkness that covered the city. It matched her dark soul. "But do not attack unless I order it. Be on your guard against third parties intervening."
The speeder landed, and her heavily armoured shape stepped out.

 

[Maris Fero]

There was no military precision or fanciful tactics to the Shrikes, the closest they would come to snipers on overwatch was a picket of a handful of lookouts scattered on nearby walkways, escape ladders and over ledges. Each was lightly armoured in padded coverings, each little more than lowborn fashions crudely converted and enhanced with what little armoured material could be scavenged, bought, stolen or looted.

None of the lookouts carried anything approaching a long ranged weapon, side arms and blasters in the smog-filled lower levels of the casino cities were most often heirlooms and hand me downs, taken from the hands of dead gangers by allies or enemies.

Those same watchmen had offered subtle signals, comm bleats or flashed lights to pass on the word to the ground-based observers of the approach of Melort or Mallit’s force making moves unexpectedly.

Word had come soon enough, Melort’s oddballs had set out amongst the stacks under a sizable escort toward Carrik territory. Against Maris expressed wishes that they stay neutral the Selonian’s cohort were on the move, though Maris couldn’t say yet whether the ferret meant to betray her trust or finish the Carriks herself.

She hissed at the news and scowled petulantly, punching a bruised fist into the nearby dumpster unit, as yet another idiot had decided to take an initiative and foul up Maris perfectly acceptable plans. She shook her head, dismissing the anger that had built up within her and filing away a painful punishment to befall the Selonian before long.

“Gaz get me Auen on your comm” she growled the order to a runty looking kid, two years her senior despite his slight size, something had awry with his hormones as a teen, stunting his growth and any shot he might have hoped for in being a feared gang bruiser. “I want to know what she knows.”

Auen was a traitor, a Carrik who had defected to the Oddballs a year back - her betrayal went deeper still. In secret the slab muscled enforcer girl had been informing on the Oddball’s to Maris, at least she had been. Who knew which side Auen was on now? Who knew what side anyone was on now.


It had been simple, before when the underlords of the various Mafiosa and Cartels had run the city like clockwork. Each of the gangs had known who they were and which they owed tribute to at any given time. Those days had ended two cycles ago when the underworld drowned in blood and whispers. Bosses had fallen, whole factions had disappeared in months of running battles and power grabs.


“Aeun for ya boss..” Gaz croaked hoarsely as he held out his comm to Maris as if it might explode in his hand. His hand was shaking she noted. Was he scared? Scared of her?
Gaz had been present when they had taken Akro Mallit, he had been the other to witness her brutal victory against the far larger warrior - she had only now noticed how differently he seemed to act around her following that night.

“Thanks.” she offered a smile to the short man as she took his comm, noting that her usual charms seemed less effective upon Gaz than they once had, filing the thought away for now as she turned and spoke into the phone.

“What don’t I know Auen..”

“~moved out. We got a signal two hours ago. Meetup with Mallit~ … ~outsiders.~” the static cut out and in as she listened, this deep in the smog layer and directly below the interference of the Casinos electronic static made all long-range wireless communication patchy at best. “~.. moved up the timetable…~”

Maris threw the comm back to Gaz and swore to herself as she stopped to consider the informant's words. 'Something is new, everything is shifting, this isn’t my plan anymore..' she thought to herself, looking left and right as she recounted her numbers and considered the very worst. She should abort, learn more and plan again. She should take the safe choice.

“Call in the rest, reinforce all of our spots, I want the rest of the Shrike on their way here - now!”

Even as she spoke the atonal whine of speeders cut through the close echoes of the twisting underlevels. At first one then two further speeders descended through the smog level and toward the meeting place. None of the gangs used speeders in the subs, too obvious, too bulky in the tighter passages and walkways, and in any case, too expensive.

Outsiders.

“Just get them all here, if this goes south I want to have the show of force.”

She watched the descending speeders with a growing sense of foreboding and a now familiar burn of fury buried in the pit of her guts.

This was her war, her long fight, and it was almost over. Who was so keen to reset the board?

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Maris Fero"]


Speeders were a bit impractical in this environment. They were big, bulky and thus obvious targets. But they were good at sending a message. Namely that the people riding them had resources. The same message was sent by their armour and guns.


It would take a lot more to drive the point home though. The city was contested territory. Wes had briefed Enyo about the volatile situation. Darwinian selection had culled the Cartels that used to rule over the underworld with an iron fist. It was a state of affairs that could be exploited.


"Who the hell is this, Melort?" Herk seemed agitated. That was understandable. He was already being forced to go through the humiliating experience of bending the knee to the appropriately named Oddballs.


"A new player. She's got a proposal for us." Melort responded evenly. Even for Enyo, it was not easy to read the expression of the ferret. Doubtless the Oddball gang boss would cast her sails whichever way the wind blowed. The cyborg could deal with that.


"Outsiders? This wasn't part of the bargain."


"The terms of the bargain have been altered," Enyo interjected flatly. Two lightsabres hung from her belt. She'd made sure they were visible. Her impassive face was a perfect replica of the powerful Siobhan Kerrigan, but that would mean nothing here because no one would have heard of her. This suited Enyo just fine. She preferred being judged on her own merits.


A Geist shadowed her, standing so still one would be forgiven for thinking she might be a statue. The Iktotchi's features were concealed behind a helmet's faceplate. She carried a lightsabre as well, in addition to having a disruptor pistol holstered on her thigh.


By contrast, Neda's posture was more relaxed, almost casual as she leaned against the wall, though she kept an eye on the assembled goons from the three gangs. After all, things could go south and turn violent any time.


"Let's get to the point. Name's Enyo Typhos, Iron Fist Consortium. I have guns, a legion of hardened killers ready to cut throats for me, and I'm going to move in and carve my own fiefdom out of this city. You join me, and you get a fair share in profits and territory...and revenge on those who crossed you," she let these words sink in, her tone void of emotion. Her electronic, lifeless eyes met those of Herk. "You oppose me, you die and serve as an example for others."

 

[Maris Fero]

The situation in Upper Fourth was becoming more complicated by the second. Yet again Maris cursed herself for letting the Selonian survive untouched for as long as she had done.

Ku Selort had always been the lowest priority threat to Maris or her Shrike. The Selonian had been universally overlooked and sold short by the other gangers when the big five had taken power. Her followers were often those discarded or rejected from the other gangs, her relatively cautious nature was well known - so much so that some mistakenly regarded her cautious as timidity. It had been long accepted that Selort was also a misandrist, who regarded most masculine personalities in positions of power with a distinct distaste. The risks of Selort ever bending the knee to Akro Mallit, Naitin Kaperko or the Balo had been close to nonexistent.

Now, whatever was going on in that gathering, and whoever the outsiders were, Ku Melort was making her move for power. That such a thing was even a possibility should have given Maris pause for thought, what sort of position of strength would have justified the Ferret to cross the point of no return.

Regardless, the teenage schemer was in no mood to delay her timetable.

She eyed the descending speeders, focussing hard on the lead speeder as if just by staring hard enough her eyes might bore their way past the unmarked flanks and discern who the new players were.

Slipping easily from shadow to shadow she shimmied her way between discarded crates and stacked pallets, all the while willing herself to remain silent and unseen whilst she made her way a little closer. Maris pulled a compact magnifier from a pouch on her combat pants and let the device affix itself to her brow and drop a pair of hud lenses over her right eye. It was the most sophisticated piece of loot Maris had ever owned, claiming it from the Lower-L stashes as the Shrikes expanded their territory, and so Maris kept it hidden even from her own.

Immediately she could make out outline of a landing speeder. The image clarified, magnified and grainy but still better than her own vision through the dull smog of the underlevels. The line of sight was poor and she only caught glimpses of the new arrivals as they passed between crates and makeshift barricades before the Carrik boltholes. What she saw did not inspire confidence. Guns - armour - serious looking players, older than your average street ganger and with equipment that looked fit for purpose.

Serious players.

Maris swore to herself as she watched them enter, her frustration gradually building every greater as she considered the implications of the new arrivals in terms of her rivals fortunes.The magnifier was pocketed again, and she slumped back into the crates, fists balled and jaw clenched as she let the back of her head connect gently with the hollow crate, feeling the reassuring dull pain of the impact, things could be worse.

She returned to her thugs once again and looked between them, eyeing them for dissent or concern before she spoke. Her eyes darkened as she considered her next move, and started to formulate something that wasn’t even half a plan.

“Call Aeun, call Mallit, call Melort,” she hissed and pulled her own comm unit from a pouch on her waist, “ Call anyone you think will be in that room.”

------------------------

"Let's get to the point. Name's Enyo Typhos, Iron Fist Consortium. I have guns, a legion of hardened killers ready to cut throats for me, and I'm going to move in and carve my own fiefdom out of this city. You join me, and you get a fair share in profits and territory...and revenge on those who crossed you," Enyo let these words sink in, her tone void of emotion. Her electronic, lifeless eyes met those of Herk. "You oppose me, you die and serve as an example for others."

Moments later Herk opened his mouth to speak, but stopped a moment later as all about him comm units and started to bleat, beep or ring from all throughout the gathered gangers.

The burly ganger Herk Mallit looked down dumbly at the ident shown on the comm strapped to his wrist, glowing in dull green runes on the display was the name of the caller. Akro. His brother.

Herk shook his head and his heavy features creased as he looked up toward Enyo again in confusion, “What is this!?” he asked unsurely, suspicious of the newcomers immediately, though still not answering the comm message. The Mallits had never been the sharpest of minds, another reason Maris hadn't dealt with them sooner.

All around other gangers, Carriks and Oddballs were glancing at comm signals and looking considerably more worried than confused, as each recognised the ident of Shrike gangers.

Melort cancelled her incoming call with a scowl and a nervous glance to the doors but said nothing, staying as close to the newcomers as she dared to for now. Fero knew, but surely the ‘legion of hardened killers ready to cut throats’ would be more than enough to deal with the Shrikes.


------------------------

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Maris Fero"]s


Enyo's expression remained bland and implacable while assembled gangers suddenly received comm messages. She caught a glimpse of the caller's name on the display of Herk's comm. It was his deceased brother.


Who had been killed by that girl Herk hated so much. The culprit was obvious in her mind. Her mechu-deru senses tingled and she began to trace the signal, following the invisible lines she could see as a technopath. "Your enemy is at the gates. Get ahold of yourself and stop acting like a wet hen," she ordered Herk coldly...unemotionally.


"You don't karking tell me what to do! You ain't the boss of me...aaargh," his rant was cut off mid-sentence and he suddenly found it rather difficult to breathe. The ganger gasped, trying in vain to force oxygen into her lungs while her windpipe was being abused by a grip tighter than a droid's pincer. Some of the goons raised their weapons, but none dared strike her.


"I am now. Pray I don't reconsider my investment." Finally, Enyo released her grip and the ganger crumpled to the ground and clutched her throat. His lungs gasped and wheezed, greedily drinking in oxygen. His expression was a cross of loathing and fear.


"Get your men ready," she ordered the ferret. "Neda, hold the fort." If they become a problem, kill them, she transmitted to the Zabrak, accessing her implants so that they could not be overheard. Turning around, she headed out of the meeting room, moving into the direction of where she believed the call originated. There was something akin to a jolt in her skull, when one of the wasp droids that had been discreetly performing recon beamed an image into her skull, causing it to flash before her eyes. One of a young woman and some gangers.

 

[Maris Fero]

Herk Mallit’s concern, though unbefitting the tough guy thug front the Carriks aspired to, was not entirely baseless. The Carriks had been hunted and outmanoeuvred by the Shrike for months. Similar such intimidations had been laughed off at first as hollow threats and scare tactics, however, over the course of the campaign Carrik morale had gradually seeped away in the face of the unexpected insight of their opponents.

His words had been silenced by Enyo’s sudden interruption of his breathing, yet the situation only heightened the thug’s apprehension. The newcomer, unexpected and certainly unwelcome in his world, was at least as much a source of fear to Herk as the Shrike leader, probably more so.

Melort was obedient enough, nodding her affirmation to her own people, seeing them move to check their own cruder weapons and primitive defences.

Despite no orders having been given to say otherwise, some of the parties present at the gathering had accepted the comm requests, and through scant and crackling receivers Maris picked out regrettably little detail on the meeting itself. Disagreement, conflict and fear all sounded clear enough in the fragments of the conversations she heard - nothing concrete though.

“Heads up,” came a low call from the lookout, raising his chin in the direction of the ganger's bolthole, signalling that he could see activity outside once again, whilst lazily swatting unsuccessfully at one of the rare buzzing insects that sometimes swarmed in the warm passages of the upper fourth.

Maris glanced at him and read the look in his eyes with easy practice, it was the outsiders on the move. She drew a shallow breath between closed teeth, pausing to think again for a moment before pursing her lips and slowly nodding to herself as she balanced the options from this point onward.

“Marx, Kivo, Ellana, you are with me, everyone else stays out of sight, spread it around, only move if I let you know,” she offered the words curtly, but none doubted that these were explicit orders “- or if I go down.”

Looks were exchanged by her closest comrades at the thought of her falling, ambition and nerves both present on the faces she watched. Loyal as the Shrike were to Maris, none harboured any illusions that they would face an uncontested rise to take her place should she be killed.

“Right, let's go already..” she sighed, rolling her eyes dramatically as if entirely put out by the whole situation. With that, she turned and with an admirable nonchalance the youth sauntered from the shadows with three of her trusted at her sides and came to a halt a little way closer to the meeting place beneath the dull glow on an overhead spot illumination.

There she waited for the moment, leaning against a long stolen transport crate,
sure to position herself close enough to hard cover to dash behind should the blasters start firing. Maris stood holding one arm casually across her chest below her bust as if to ward off cold. Her opposite hand rose to brush stray locks of hair back from her eyeline whilst she watched side-eyed in the direction she expected to see the newcomers approach from. Her pale features and raven-black hair were strikingly different from the rough looking gangers at her sides; delicate - despite the fading injuries - she didn’t fulfil most expectations of a fierce gang leader. Maris wore dark cargo pants with combat boots but any militia vibes she might have given off were cancelled out by the rest of her ensemble. A burgundy leather bolero jacket hung open over a short charcoal grey vest top. The bulk of a blaster strapped beneath her jacket was only barely concealed and the extendable baton clipped to a belt at her waist on open display.

“Keep cool, this is my call, plans change - this feels right” she murmured to the others in a low tone, eyeing each in turn with a steady assured gaze, lying through her teeth, everything felt wrong. This was the bold path - the option that excited her the most, but the risks were terrible.

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Maris Fero"]


And so Enyo emerged from the meeting place. Her gait was mechanical, but confident. Maris and her posse would see a tall, clearly female marching towards their direction. The cyborg's expression was void of emotion. It might as well have been made of granite.


She looked a good deal older than the gangers. This was ironic because in actual fact she was younger by many, many years. Cloning was weird that way. Long brown hair cascaded about her shoulders. Her black coat billowed behind her in the wind. Beneath the coat, she wore a paramilitary-style outfit. Her feet were tucked into a pair of combat boots.


Darkness had fallen upon the streets, but this did not affect her vision, for she was endowed with sophisticated electronic eyes. The miniaturised scout droids in the area were useful for picking out gangers that might be lurking in the shadows. The unitiated would probably mistake them for one of the buzzing insects that sometimes swarmed in this sector.


Her eyes flashed as she received confirmation that her cyborgs were moving into position, ready to open fire upon the intruders if need be - or on their present allies, should Herk or Melort refuse to stay the course. But for the time being, they did not take action. "Overwatch, begin picking off the goons in the rear," she transmitted to the cyborg sniper who was hidden on a rooftop, awaiting her orders.


Her eyes were upon the gangers who had congregated at the storage crate. The hybrid took note of the girl in the cargo pants and the leather jacket. Her stance gave Enyo the impression that she was the leader of the group. But there was something else about her that set her apart from the average street thug, for Enyo could perceive the Force emanating from the girl. Perhaps she could be useful - if she submitted.


The cyborg made a gesture with her gloved hand and the power rippled from her, producing a strong blast of telekinetic energy that swept towards them. To be on the receiving end of a Master level Force Push was unpleasant. She removed a lightsabre hilt from her belt and pressed the ignition button, producing a burning violet blade as she crossed the distance.

 

[Maris Fero]

The solitary figure who walked out toward the group was unexpected, and Maris immediately started to reassess the situation. She was older, the tanned skin of an offworlder, but her expression gave away nothing of her thoughts. Fero’s head cocked as she looked at the woman now, eyes narrowing as she studied those features for something missing that she could not quantify. Everyone had tells, everyone Maris had ever met she could read like an open book, but the newcomer was simply void.

But there was something there, a taste to the air she knew yet had never witnessed before. Maris gasped as she felt the woman’s hand move the instant before it happened, her own hand raising as if to protect herself from something. Her eyes widened as she watched the almost effortless gesture from the solitary warrior, but any cries or warnings were silenced as she felt the pressure wave connect with her body.

The raw energy of the force push slammed the unprepared youth against the storage crate, forcing the breath from her lungs in an instant before the back of the girls head slammed heavy corrugated crate wall with a reverberating clang. Maris' head swam as the impact rang through her. As the wave released her the girl collapsed like a limp ragdoll on collapsing limbs rendered temporarily useless. Her mind was still clouded as she tried to shake the buzzing clear from her vision, she felt wet warmth dripping from her ears. A vivid streak of violet light resolved itself in the haze of her vision and as she peered up from her prone position the ganger prayed that she might be hallucinating as her eyes followed the line of the blade up to the approaching... - Jedi? Sith?

She knew both names, everyone knew those names, but no ganger in Efavan truly claimed to have witnessed one of the warriors with their laser swords.

The other Gangers had scattered under the attack of the witch, Kivo was on the edge of her eyeline, raising himself to his knees nearby the warrior, checking his blaster for damage before he started to raise the barrel.

Maris could have tried to call out, but something halted her, and instead, she watched in fascinated horror as to what the idiot might do next.

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Maris Fero"]


Jedi and Sith were names many people knew in the Galaxy, even on remote worlds. But to many they were the stuff of legends. This was not a mark of ignorance, but simply a logical result of the fact that they only comprised a fraction of the Galaxy's population.


Sith Emperors and Jedi Grandmasters came and went, while the vast majority of the populace simply went about their daily lives without ever hearing of either, let alone encountering them. The unitiated had good reason to regard the Force as something akin to magic, or dismiss it as a hookey religion.


Unfortunately for Maris and her gang, it was very real, though the woman confronting them belonged to neither order. Enyo continued marching towards them. She could hear noise in the distance as gangers scattered. Those who tried to flee would have to evade precise sniper fire coming from one of the rooftops.


She spotted one of the gangers raise himself to his knees, and pull up his blaster. Red-hot bolts leapt from the muzzle of the gun, shooting towards her. Muzzle flashes came in rapid succession, but her blade slashed them out of the air.


Energy bolts bounced off her lightsabre. One slipped past her guard and grazed her face, burning away some fake skin on her cheek to expose metal. But she pressed on, undaunted, and a reflected round struck Kivo's thigh. The gang member howled his pain, and a precise flick of Enyo's wrist severed his hand. His gun dropped to the ground, and while he clutched his stump, she turned her attention towards the girl who'd been slammed into the crate. Reaching out with her power, she attempted to wrap the girl in a Force Grip, lift her into the air and pull her towards her. The grip, if successful, would be uncomfortably tight, but not crushing.

 

[Maris Fero]

Kivo was making a lot of noise. It was understandable, Maris considered with a detached sense of reason that had taken control of her for the moment. She watched the boy roll left and right, clutching the fused stump of his hand to his stomach, whilst his remaining hand pawed at the self-inflicted blaster wound he had endured.

Her eyes returned to the warrior as she felt the stirrings of some power deep in the force witch, struggling only momentarily against the pressure enveloping her. A moan escaping her lips as pain pulsed from her limbs in the wake of her recent impact; Wet tears touched her cheeks, though Maris could not recall having cried. She felt the energy lift her effortlessly from her feet, turning and constricting her tightly, stealing her shallow breath again as she was pulled toward the witch, noting the metal hidden beneath her scorched flesh .. a robot?

"W-Why?" she managed with what little breath she gathered, back arching in the force grip as she struggled with the invisible bond. "-I was so close."

Her eyes scanned the woman's features again, any other day she might wonder if she was just some droid working for some mob boss. But that violet blade of cold fire and the invisible power she felt coursing around and through the woman spoke of a far greater power.

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Maris Fero"]


Maris was deposited on the ground right in front of the cyborg. Enyo held her blade near the girl's neck. Her red eyes flashed for a moment behind her human irises, before regaining their more human, brown colour. "You are Maris." It was phrased more as a statement than a question. The girl's words confirmed what she'd suspected. "I am Enyo Typhos, leader of the Iron Fist Consortium. You will submit to me or die." Her voice was chilly, stern and commanding. It was that of a woman who expected obedience.

 

[Maris Fero]

At the will of her aggressor, Maris was released, falling unceremoniously upon her ass as the invisible forces assailing her retreated without warning. Slowly, she managed to rise, taking a knee as she reflected upon the new paradigm that had replaced the world she had known just minutes before.

She had been defeated before she had even known the battle had begun, outclassed. She had been dismissed as a threat and shown the folly of her ambitions. She had once felt powerful, and now she could feel only anger and shame.

The girl sneered at her own self-pity, her body tense with the churning of her temper, willing herself to act before her gaze rose to look into the eyes cast down to meet hers, and the sparking glow of the violet bladed weapon lowered to administer the coup de grace should her assailant choose to.

An eerie red light flashed in the warrior’s gaze, though Maris held the look unblinkingly. She addressed the ganger by name and the smallest spark of satisfaction was kindled in the girl. This creature knew her name at the very least - The defeated girl’s nostrils flared, though no smile betrayed her features.

"I am Enyo Typhos, leader of the Iron Fist Consortium. You will submit to me or die."

That voice was cold and authoritative, demanding her obedience, accepting nothing less. The names were alien to Maris, the titles carrying no inherent threat nor any real credibility upon Vorzyd - yet. But Enyo Typhos needed no titles or status to make her demand, not from those who might resist her that night.

Maris looked up for what felt like an age, watching those eyes and trying to bury her rage, her fear and her disappointment. Eventually, she spoke, feeling her jaw tighten as she started to speak, the words heavy on her tongue. “You win. I want to live,” she nodded slowly as she raised her chin in a sign of submission, “please..”

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Maris Fero"]


Enyo did not gloat. No expression of smug, arrogant satisfaction crossed her features. They remained as emotionless as ever. She did not draw things out to make the girl squirm. "I will spare you. You serve me now. Good service will be rewarded, incompetence, tardiness, betrayal and disobedience punished."


Tardiness was in Enyo's books a particularly heinous sin. It bred sloppiness. She was a bit obsessed with deadlines, and probably did not quite understand that organic beings needed to eat, sleep and occasionally enjoy free time. She'd probably abolish the concepts of free time and fun if she could, but this one digresses.


"You will share everything you know about the local underworld with me. You will receive your orders from myself or officers appointed by me." This might soften the blow a bit, since Maris would have probably been extremely unhappy about being put under the yoke of Herk or the ferret. However, softening the blow to someone's feelings was not the cyborg's intent. She plain and simply wanted to make it clear that she was in charge. Many battles awaited her if she wanted to enforce her authority in this planet. The big gangs and mafias would not go down so easily.

 

[Maris Fero]

Enyo Typhos remained as aloof and alien as ever as she explained the new order of things to the former gang boss, no sign of pleasure or triumph at her dominance over the free-spirited, ambitious youth who had sought to defy anyone only moments before.

Maris knew instinctively that she would never have managed to remain so detached, so professional and cold. Every foe she had bested or forced to bend to her will had garnered a distinctive sense of satisfaction and the rush of what she imagined might be power.

If she was not an actual robot very little of true humanity appeared to remain beneath the impressively convincing skin humanity worn by Enyo, Maris hated her for it even as she felt relief that she was not to die that day. The terms of her service sounded disappointingly close to how one might treat a pet hound or servant.


"You will share everything you know about the local underworld with me. You will receive your orders from myself or officers appointed by me."

Fortunately, the blow was to be softened, if only a fraction. She would not be asked to answer to the pair of inferiors who awaited the warrior back in the gathering. That was something at least, a small portion of pride she could hold onto.

“None of the others know all that I know,” she stated with a renewed confidence, rising slowly before the warrior, careful to avoid any sudden or aggressive movements and glancing to her wounded colleague who has grown far quieter. “These ones are muscle, without his good hand he'll struggle to be of use to you, but my Shrike are loyal. I mean. They will serve you now?”

She corrected herself quickly, before adding. “The others aren't worth much to you... I would have stamped out the Carriks tonight. Melort is a coward.” her lips twitched in annoyance at the thought of the Ferret. “I shouldn't have left her unchecked so long..”

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Maris Fero"]


Enyo deactivated her lightsabre and put it back on her belt. "If he's good muscle that obeys orders well, he'll get a new hand," she referred to Kivo in a dismissively chilly tone. It sounded like the one someone would use when they said they might buy a new pair of tyres for their car. But the bland, almost dismissive phrasing hinted at resources she must have at her disposal.


She gazed at Maris in a clinical, intent manner. "The Shrykes will serve me now - through you. You're responsible for keeping them in line. If their performance is substandard, it will reflect on you." Enyo considered it a useful tool of management to hold underlings responsible for the behaviour of their minions. Likewise, an officer who transgressed would receive a punishment far more severe than a grunt would for the same offence.


The cyborg cocked her head to the side slightly, as if considering Maris' comments on her 'allies'. It was a verbal tick she'd unconsciously picked up from her HRD creators. She found herself approving of the girl's forwardness. She had the feeling that sooner or later she might have to dispose of them. Mallitt's behaviour had stirred contempt inside her. However, she was not the type to act rashly. He's unstable and harbours a grudge, so I will probably have to make good on my my threat to kill him, she thought.


"You may be more useful than Melort and Mallitt. The fact that even combined they feared you shows their weakness. We shall see. Come on." In the meantime, one of Enyo's goons had approached. This one was a large Trandoshan. Maris might notice the gleaming, silvery metal that formed his right arm. No words were exchanged between him and Enyo, but he lifted Shivo up with no visible effort and tossed him over his shoulder, carrying him.

 

[Maris Fero]

Maris breathed a little more easily once Enyo’s weapon had been withdrawn, though she knew it could hang over her again just as suddenly should she disobey.

The ganger nodded hesitantly as her new employer explained her responsibilities, at once glad to still have her power of control over the gang, but marked by the loss of her independence for the time being.

Keeping them in line might be a challenge at first, news of her meeting with Enyo would travel and Fero’s rep would undoubtedly suffer for the poor show she made in resisting Typhos. Discipline would need to be reinforced, and quickly to halt any growing rumours from potential rivals.

For now, Maris was unsure as to how to quantify the new power relationship between Enyo and herself; Employer, Mistress, Owner, Crimelord?

Whatever she was the dangerous newcomer had paused to consider her words carefully, and for that moment even seemed to accept and agree with her assessment. She couldn’t help but let a grin slip across her features to hear Enyo state that Mallit and Melort feared her, wondering exactly how much her new companion knew of all that she had achieved so far. “They won’t be pleased to see me, Melort will want me dead. Though she won’t tell you that.”

She watched the Trandoshan approach with mild curiosity. His kind was rare enough in these parts, but the intricate silvery metal forming his right arm might have cost more than any piece of loot Maris had ever held. She followed after Enyo finding her spirit returning again, each step regaining that self-confident stride that her peers had come to recognise in the Shrike leader.

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Maris Fero"]


"Probably not," Enyo said in a very dry, deadpan tone. It was a few degrees less chilly. Not that much though. "Lesser beings tend to resent those more gifted than they." This could mean a number of things. Perhaps it was simply a reference to Maris being Force-sensitive, since that placed you above mundanes if you subscribed to Forcer supremacism. Or maybe Enyo was just racist against sentient ferrets.


The building where the meeting had been supposed to take place was under tight guard. In addition to the Oddball and Carrik goons, Maris would encounter more of the cyborgs that formed Enyo's posse. One of the common thugs raised his primitive looking slugthrower upon catching sight of Maris, only for it to be forced down by an invisible hand.


"The attack has been dealt with. She works under me now," Enyo said in a voice cold enough to match a snowstorm of Hoth. Perhaps it was the aura of menace that broadcasted clear 'don't frak with me' vibes. Or the fact that part of her face showed gleaming metal and she carried two lightsabres on her belt. Either way, the mooks did not challenge her.

 

[Maris Fero]

The raven-haired youth looked surprised to hear what was almost a compliment from Typhos. Glancing at her new boss’s features Maris searched that blank expression to see if she might detect some sign of sarcasm, though it appeared wholly sincere. The metal exposed beneath that torn flesh brought questions to her lips but instead, she asked another entirely.

“You think it’s a gift?” she dared to probe further, again wondering about the fabled gifts of the Jedi this creature had displayed, “I had decided that most people are merely too stupid or are cowards or lack the will to take what they want in life.”

They passed lines of goons from all three factions invited to the meeting, the gangers all recognised Maris of course. One even deigned to raise a weapon toward her before another wave of energy like tight, constricted energy seemed to exude from Enyo and forced his weapon back down effortlessly - much to the thug's wide-eyed surprise.

"The attack has been dealt with. She works under me now,"

Maris head cocked at the words, almost a mirror of Enyo’s earlier twitch, a pretty smile flashing across her pale features as grey-green eyes locked onto the dark pools of Melort, paying Mallit no attention whatsoever.

“Hiya Ku…” she cooed toward the Ferret, batting long lashes to her rival as she feigned near angelic serenity at the situation. “All friends again. How fun.”

The Selonians face twitched uncomfortably as her expression approximated something like pain for a moment before returning to practised neutrality, but she failed to hide the bristling fur about her neck. No reply arrived immediately, instead offering only a curt nod in response.

Mallit, on the other hand, was shaking with a peculiar mix of rage, fear and incredulity. “She killed my brother... She killed all of them.” he looked to Enyo pleadingly, pointing to Maris with an accusatory digit and swallowing as he shook his head in disbelief, “ would have got us all.”

Staying still at Typhos side Maris' head dropped a little, chewing her lip bottom lip as she glanced at Enyo, a half shrug and almost shy smile.

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Maris Fero"]


"She bent the knee to me. Your complaints are not relevant. You will serve me loyally or be destroyed," Enyo brushed his words aside as if they were buzzing insects. "I don't care about your blathering. I care about order, efficiency, profit and getting things done. This city has a vacuum I intend to fill. You can be part of the new order and profit from it. Or you can wallow in self-pity and pay the price. I have no room for the weak." Lawful Evil in a nutshell.