Private Of Shadows & the Past

[Allyson Locke]

//: Ison Corridor //:
//: Anoat Sector //:
//: Varonat //:
//: Attire //:

The shuttle flight was long, and Allyson drifted in and out of sleep. Between naps, she devoured as much information as she could about Varonat, conveniently ignoring the files Taeli had sent on Anoat.

Investigating a problematic Sith Lord could wait, but there would always be another. But the opportunity to stir up Madelyn Lowe by setting foot on her homeworld without her knowing? Priceless. Allyson could already see this becoming one of her favorite pastimes when dealing with the Minister.

From what little intel she had gathered, the Lowe family had a reputation. Unfortunately, the articles she found were frustratingly vague, and she couldn't tell if they had been beloved or feared. Given what she knew about Madelyn's behavior, Allyson wondered if that attitude was a family trait or just uniquely Madelyn being Madelyn. Either way, staying in Edgefield would allow her to dig deeper.

Still, the more she thought about it, she questioned her motives more. Why was she so curious? Was this still part of their game?

She chewed on her thumb, staring out the window until exhaustion won out, and she slumped against the side of the shuttle. No one seemed to notice everyone was too preoccupied with their own business until an attendant finally nudged her awake. A few words, a polite exchange, and the attendant casually slipped Allyson her comm number. She smiled and took it without much thought.

As she left the spaceport, Allyson was greeted by a wave of heat and humidity, much different from the coasts of Corellia. Allyson made a face as it clung to her skin, heavily. She stepped aside, letting the crowd move past her, pulling out her comm device again. A quick flick through her recent contacts, and there it was, the attendant's number, still sitting near the top. Another swipe, and it was gone.

She walked through the capital on foot, taking in everything Varonat had to offer. It was different than she had expected. Madelyn, the woman from here, seemed too clean-cut to be from a jungle planet. Maybe that was why her gold hair had so much body naturally.

What surprised her most was how the city coexisted with the jungle. The thick vegetation pressed in at the edges but never overtook the structures, and the architecture seemed designed to complement the greenery rather than fight against it. It reminded her of Kashyyyk, of the way the Silver Jedi had built among the trees. She only began to understand the jungle's allure when everything went sideways, forcing her and the others to abandon it. A sigh escaped her lips at the old memory, simple yet powerful.

Too much time had passed.

Shaking off nostalgia, she refocused. She needed to reach Edgefield before nightfall. There wasn't a particular reason, just a feeling that it was the smart thing. Opening her hand, she projected a small holographic map of Tropis, her natural eye tracing the path to the ground shuttle that would take her there.

"Shuttle to Edgefield, last one of the afternoon!"

The announcement snapped her out of her thoughts. Her heart lurched, and without hesitation, she ran for it. Her heavy pack bounced against her back, her arms bent to keep the straps from slipping. Just as she reached the shuttle, a hand shot out from the open door. Without thinking, she gripped it tightly as she was pulled inside.

"Almost missed it," a voice teased.

Allyson caught her breath and looked up at her savior, a blonde woman about her height, wearing worn overalls. Mesmerizing blue eyes met hers, and for a moment, Allyson just blinked.

"Yeah, thanks. I appreciate it," Allyson managed, laughing off her near-miss.

"No problem," the woman grinned. "First time?"

The question confused her, but she nodded, leaning back against the pole she held onto as the shuttle rumbled out of the station. "Yeah. Never been to Varonat before. The place looks… healthy."

The woman nodded, but something in her expression shifted.

"Yeah." A pause, then a sidelong glance out the window at the tangled jungle, she added, "Nice place to visit. Not one to stay too long in, though. You know how it is."

Allyson tilted her head, catching the hesitation in her tone. Maybe the government wasn't as stable as she had assumed. "Well, can't be too bad, shadows still cast against the streets." she said casually, waiting to see how the woman responded.

"Enjoy your time in Edgefield." The woman's lips quirked into a knowing smile. "South of town is where the excitement is." And just like that, she disappeared into the crowd as the shuttle stopped.

That was all Allyson needed to hear. Her contact had made themselves known.

The rest of the ride passed without incident, and soon, Allyson stepped off into the small town of Edgefield. People moved around her, trickling away from the shuttle, but the woman from earlier was nowhere to be seen. No doubt, she'd reach out again when the time was right.

Allyson continued south, her boots crunching over dirt roads until she reached the edge of town. The house waiting for her was… unimpressive. Run-down. Less than what she expected, but enough for now. Thankfully, someone had already begun clearing out the worst of the mess, yet there was a lot more to do.

She wandered through the rooms, until she stumbled upon a small office. Dust coated the furniture, and old photos sat abandoned on the desk. She picked up a frame, swiping away the grime with her palm.

Allyson blinked, surprised at the face staring back at her was familiar, much younger, but unmistakable.

"My stars," Allyson whispered, laughter caught in her throat. "You were adorable, you little tyrant."

Setting the frame down, she pulled out the sleek black tablet tucked under her arm, a direct line to the Minister. With a smirk, she propped it up a short distance away, set the timer, and ran back to strike her best innocent pose.

The camera flashed.

Instantly, she sent the picture along with a few more, Madelyn's childhood home, the surrounding area, and finally, the old photo of her as a child.

Along with them, Allyson typed a simple message: Wish you were here!

 

[Madelyn Lowe]

Madelyn was back in her Jutrand office, leaning on her desk as she read through reports on the implementation of the Revivalist reforms enacted through her Ministry of Order. As usual, the hour was late, and the prattling of Madelyn's lessers was turning into a dull drone. She found her mind straying from her work, eyes wandering away from the display to the small scuff in the wall opposite her desk, or the office door, since repaired, that Madelyn had broken the night that she had first arrived. Now, it seemed like the room was haunted, echoing with vivid memories of the evening Allyson Locke had come to visit her.

Thankfully, Madelyn would soon be relocating to the new Ministry of Order complex here on Jutrand, and operate between there and the compound being established on Dromund Kaas. Then, without the constant reminders, her mind wouldn't drift to the Agent so often. Maybe.

Madelyn's communicator chirped and she perked up, grateful for a distraction from this drudgery. Madelyn opened it with a swipe of her manicured finger and frowned. No message. She pursed her lips, confused, and then something dawned on her. That meant it was her other communicator. Strange, that she should suddenly make her presence known when Madelyn had been thinking about her. She wondered her ears were burning, wherever she was.

Madelyn let out an irritated sigh, but not even she believed it. Besides, she was alone, why was she bothering keeping up appearances. If she was being truthful with herself she was excited that Locke was reaching out. She hated that, but it was the truth. Pathetic.

The correct communicator in hand, Madelyn finally opened up the notification, and gasped aloud.

Wish you were here!

Madelyn's eyes immediately focused on the picture Allyson was brandishing. She recognised it right away. It was a family portrait, taken on Madelyn's first day at the Imperial Ladies School, a preparatory institution for the children of middling First Order officials like her parents. Madelyn recalled it had sat on the mantle in her family home, before Madelyn had endangered her family in her quest for power, back when things had been simpler. But how had Allyson acquired a copy?

No. Oh no.

Unbelieving, Madelyn's gaze turned to the scene depicted in the rest of the picture. The wooden framing behind Allyson's head, though dirty and worn, was unmistakable. That was her house. Her childhood home, a place she hadn't even visited in decades. She was karking unbelievable.

Madelyn's fingers flew as she typed out a message. She was incensed, enraged. Several voice messages, one after the other, yelling into the communicator.

"How dare you! This is completely unacceptable."

"I should fire you on the spot Allyson."

Madelyn pressed the key to open a direct commlink, her free hand clenched tightly into a white-knuckled fist as she waited and waited for the call to connect, but Allyson wouldn't pick up.

"Answer me!"

Madelyn made a disgusted, choking sound and threw the communicator across the room, but her heart wasn't in it, and it bounced harmlessly off the wall and onto the plush carpet. She watched it hawkishly, waiting for it to chime again. Credit where it was due, Allyson was rather good at getting under her skin.

Allyson Locke ​

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Ison Corridor //:
//: Anoat Sector //:
//: Varonat //:
//: Attire //:

The response was immediate. A cascade of messages flooded Allyson's inbox, fast and relentless as if Madelyn Lowe were trying to burn holes in the screen with sheer volume. Allyson leaned back, half-curious to see what would give out first, Madelyn's thumbs or the inbox storage cap. Each message was meticulously read, and she made sure Madelyn knew it. There were no typos and no misplaced punctuation. Even in a flurry of unrelenting fury, the Imperial Minister remained precise.

That, more than anything, impressed Allyson.

Then came the voice messages.

She held the comm away from her ear, grinning as Madelyn's sharp, controlled fury burst through the speaker. The words were barbed wire, cold, and biting. Allyson laughed, low, amused, especially every time Madelyn snapped her name, crisp with that clipped, polished Imperial accent.

She should've felt bad for riling her up like this. She didn't.

Watching Madelyn unravel was almost poetic. A woman so practiced in restraint, elegance, and precision was now breathing fire because of her. Allyson could hear the emotion threading through every syllable, threatening to crack the marble mask. It reminded her that there was still someone beneath the Minister's uniform and cold exterior.

The comm vibrated in her hand. Madelyn's name flashed on the screen as the call came through. Allyson didn't answer. She watched it ring until the line flipped to voicemail, the silence between them suddenly louder than anything the Minister had screamed. Still, Allyson didn't pick up. Because if she did, she might do precisely what Madelyn wanted.

Another voice message.

"You know, I do enjoy hearing you scream my name."

Smug and purposefully maddening. The Corellian grinned as she set the comm down, reclining against the edge of the desk. But beneath the defiance, something quieter stirred. She wanted to explain and tell Madelyn why she was here, on the edge of the Ison Corridor. That it wasn't just personal. That it was official business, sanctioned at the highest levels.

That Madelyn, for once, wasn't the one pulling the strings. She hovered over the send button, then spoke into the recorder again.

"Hey. Before you decide to fire me, I figure I should let you know where I am and why."

She sent the coordinates to Emperyean. A silent promise honored.

"I was dispatched by the Council. A Sith Lord that governs Anoat is deeply entrenched, maybe disloyal to the regime." Allyson took a deep breath before continuing, expecting a semblance of backlash. "They want evidence before they move, and I'm the one they sent to find it. I'll be safe. Promise. Try not to miss me too much."

The agent hesitated. The urge to soften her name, to carve something intimate into the message, nearly won out. A nickname, maybe or something warmer, only meant for Madelyn to hear and know Allyson was thinking of her. But she swallowed it down.

Before sending the message, Allyson wiped her data clean, including location, rank, and clearance. The fact that she was the Emperor's apprentice didn't belong in the conversation.

Once the comm was down, Allyson slid off the desk and cleaned. If this place would serve as the base for the small rebellion she was quietly cultivating, then it needed to be clean so she could protect Madelyn's past.

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Ison Corridor //:
//: Anoat Sector //:
//: Varonat //:
//: Attire //:

Several days passed.

The old Lowe home had become a hive of activity. Fortunately, it sat on the outskirts of Edgefield, where the town leaned heavily in favor of the rebellion. The Governor's indifference had hit Edgefield hard. Trade choked under the weight of the Blackwall, and Varonat's once-thriving export economy was now skeletal. The planet was rich in natural beauty but couldn't run on trees and charm alone. Medical supplies, high-tech imports, basic infrastructure had crumbled. Even Anoat, once a reliable neighbor, was a political disaster.

At least Allyson had managed to smuggle in what the people needed most.

Now she hung from a rope on the side of the safe house, hammer in one hand, comm in the other. The repairs weren't going to finish themselves. She wasn't looking for messages, but the silence still gnawed. A few swipes and her mission budget came into view. Her brow furrowed. Scrolling, scrolling...She winced.

The numbers at the bottom of the spreadsheet hit like a gut punch. She was officially in the red between the house renovations, emergency medical shipments, and the gear needed to keep surveillance running across Tropis and Edgefield. The kind of broke that didn't explain itself well to people like Taeli Raaf .

The device snapped shut and disappeared into her pocket. Allyson hung limply by her harness, gently swaying in her despair. The rope creaked as she rotated, arms dangling, hammer still in hand.

She hadn't even told Taeli about the statue yet. She was quietly planning to commission the massive one in her own image, right in the center of Tropis.

Maybe she wouldn't mention it.

With a grunt, she kicked herself upright and nailed the panel. Lowering herself to the ground, she unfastened her harness and tied the top of her overalls around her waist. The house was quieter now, but the yard was full of motion, kids gathering signs, megaphones, and sheer righteous energy.

"Another protest shift?" Allyson asked. "Yeah," one of the younger girls nodded, holding a rolled-up banner. "Seventy-two hours strong. More people join every day." She was beaming with pride, and Allyson couldn't help but smile. She handed her a fresh sign.

"I'll be out there in a bit," Allyson promised. There was a tenderness in the way she looked at the girl. Her parents had died—because the Governor had failed to negotiate a simple medical trade. Because of that, people like her suffered. People like her died.

Waving the group off, Allyson turned toward the back rooms of the safe house. Surveillance feeds blinked alive—Anoat, the protests, the city streets. The movement was growing. The people were rising. It was beautiful. But the police were starting to mobilize. Allyson frowned; that wasn't part of the plan.

Evening fell, and she grabbed her bow. The sleek black weapon slid over her back as she moved out, fast and quiet. She reached the city before the police could mobilize, slipping into the station just as shadows thickened and the streets emptied.

By day, they wore peacekeeper uniforms. By night, they were something else.

The halls were quiet. Allyson moved from room to room, passing empty desks and flickering lights. She found the weapons cache first, behind three layers of authorization. It didn't matter. Her fingers brushed the weapons, and the Force sang at her command. One by one, each gun jammed, fried, or warped beyond use. She gathered the few she couldn't disable through Mechu Deru into a pile at the center of the room. Let them wake up and find themselves powerless. She moved deeper.

Down two levels, in a locked hall thick with humidity and mildew, she found the cells. Teenagers, elderly people, people arrested for taxes or nothing at all, just bodies in a system that didn't care if they lived or disappeared.

Allyson broke the locks. "Go. Now."

One of the older women grabbed her hand before leaving. "Thank you." Allyson met her eyes and smiled, soft but tired.

"I promise... this is almost over. Someone's coming to make it right." And she believed that. She believed in Madelyn.

Once the last prisoner slipped out into the night, Allyson opened a window. Then she climbed out the way she came, found a perch a safe distance away, and drew her bow. An explosive arrow clicked into place. The Spy blinked, cybernetic eye-locking onto the open window—target confirmed. The arrow flew. The explosion bloomed like firelight against the dark. The protest's chants swelled, echoing with power and fury. One more piece of a broken government was erased.

From her vantage point, Allyson watched flames claw toward the sky. And then, movement. The Governor stepped out of his high tower, staring at the burning wreckage.

Their eyes locked. And in that moment, he knew...

His days were numbered.

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Ison Corridor //:
//: Anoat Sector //:
//: Varonat //:

In the days following the fire, word of the uprising spread like a second blaze, hotter and impossible to contain. Newsfeeds across the Mid and Outer Rim lit up with footage of protests erupting in Tropis and Edgefield. Citizens lined the streets with banners and sharp voices, decrying the Governor of Varonat as negligent, cowardly, and corrupt.

Reporters caught whispers of slavery rings, embezzled funds, and rigged taxes. Crimes piled atop one another, some real, others sharpened by anger, hope, and desperation. The Governor made no statement. He remained in his tower.

Untouched. For now.

The flames had died down, but the people had not. They rebuilt with calloused hands and grit, while those still loyal to the regime slithered back to the Governor's side, hiding behind charred walls and backroom shadows. The city had split: the future in the streets and the past in a fortress of stone and silence.

The Governor's office was thick with heat and tension inside the tower. "Did you figure out who infiltrated the station?" His voice was gravel and venom, reverberating through the vaulted chamber.

Three men stood at attention before his desk, commanders dressed in outdated medals and fear. Their hats were clutched in their hands, their heads bowed, and their boots unmoving. None answered.

The Governor leaned back in his chair, thick fingers threading through a groomed reddish beard. He watched them, pale blue eyes cold and unblinking. "I asked you a question," he repeated. "No one?"

Still, silence.

Disgust curled at the edge of his mouth. Worthless. "Take care of them."

He spun his chair toward the window just as the first blaster cracked. He didn't flinch—not at the sound or the smell. Three shots, three thuds. The cleanup began immediately behind him, boots scraping blood across the polished floor.

"Clear," came a deep voice. The Governor turned.

A tall man stepped forward, expression blank, and slid a datapad across the desk. A blurred still of a woman flickered to life, dark hair, familiar stance, eyes like they didn't fear gods or men. The Governor's lips tightened. "I saw her that night."

"Former Jedi," the man said simply. "That's all I could pull." Both of them grunted. Useless intel, but a name wasn't needed. The Governor had a memory for enemies.

"You know where she's hiding?"

The man nodded.

The Governor's eyes didn't blink, didn't soften. "Good."

A devilish smile crossed his face.

"Then you know what to do."

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Ison Corridor //:
//: Anoat Sector //:
//: Varonat //:
//: Attire //:

Clinking bottles filled the air, mixing with laughter and off-key singing as Edgefield lit up under the evening sky. Music drifted down cobbled streets, winding through the old town like smoke from a celebration long overdue. There was something in the air beyond resistance for the first time in years. There was hope.

Word of the movement had reached the HoloNet and slipped through cracks in the Empire's bureaucratic walls. More towns joined the call. The Governor's name was shouted like a challenge. His resignation was inevitable.

Allyson stood among them, a drink in hand, her grin wide and genuine. They had made progress. And she was proud of them.

But even as the crowd surged with energy, her gaze drifted. Someone stood watching just past the firelight, on the edge between shadow and jungle. Allyson's smile faded.

She slipped from the group with a few quick words and a wink that promised she'd be back. Groans of protest followed her, along with shouts to bring another round, but she waved at the young group to ease them. She leaned toward one of the older rebels, a man who'd played this game too many years to ask foolish questions, and whispered something in his ear.

He nodded once. Grim. Steady. He would keep the others distracted. Allyson moved.

The figure was already leaving, melting into the dark like he belonged there. The Corellian followed without hesitation, boots crunching over soft jungle soil. They didn't speak. Didn't look back. They just walked mirroring each other, one leading and one hunting, though neither seemed sure who was who.

The trees opened into a small clearing. Moonlight filtered through the canopy, painting the scene in blue and silver. Allyson stopped.

"Who are you?" Her voice cut through the air, quiet but sharp.

He turned slowly, his eyes like ice and smile like something carved in bone. Allyson narrowed her eyes; she recognized him for what he was by how he looked at her and stood waiting. Her hand reached for her bow, but it wasn't there; she'd left it behind.

"Someone you shouldn't have followed," he said, voice dark. "But since you did, I'll make this simple." He stepped closer.

"We know you're the one lighting the fire under them. The voice. The problem." His grin spread. "So instead of torching Edgefield to the ground, how about you come with us? Just a chat."

Allyson's spine stiffened. She didn't like his tone, and she didn't want any of this. But she saw the trap's shape now and knew what would happen if she said no. She exhaled. "Fine," she said quietly. "I'll go."

His grin sharpened like he already knew she'd say yes. He snapped his wrist. Figures poured from the jungle like phantoms, silent and fast. Allyson struck first, a well-placed elbow into a throat, a knee into a stomach. Another went down with a grunt.

But it wasn't enough. They overwhelmed her with numbers. Someone cracked her across the head; her vision split sideways. A bag was yanked down over her face. She felt hands restraining her, dragging and throwing her into the back of a speeder. Her body hit metal hard, and she groaned, dazed but conscious.

She bit her tongue to stay silent.

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Ison Corridor //:
//: Anoat Sector //:
//: Varonat //:
//: Attire //:

Several days passed, and many heck-ins were missed. While she was checking in with Taeli Raaf every so often, Allyson ensured she checked in with Madelyn Lowe every day simultaneously, like clockwork. She wondered if it was too much, but from what she knew of the Minister, the woman seemed to like being in the know. Allyson slumped back against the wall; she had been bound and blindfolded without an inkling of knowledge as to where she was or why she was there.

She could deduce that, for the most part, it had something to do with the Governor. The man wouldn't remain quiet for long if her analysis was correct. He was analytical and cruel, not above martyring someone to stop the cause. His critics were children; if they saw their leader butchered, they would stop this rebellion of theirs out of fear.

Allyson groaned. She should have seen this coming. It was a classic dictator in a jungle world 101. Lightly, she bounced her head on the duracrete wall. It was painful, but it distracted her from what she assumed was a broken rib or two. Another groan and she stopped. This was supposed to be an easy mission; the chaos she needed to ensure on Anoat was supposed to be the hard part.

Boots echoed down the hallway, and Allyson stopped thinking and listened. She had heard this same noise often, which meant a few things. Sometimes, it was food that she never ate. Other times, it was a board guard, and he would come in and rough up the spy. She wouldn't fight back.

This time was different. Mentally, Allyson counted the number of shuffling boots. It was a group, and one had a heavier step than the others. Allyson figured that was their leader.

"Locke." His deep voice echoed. She didn't turn to him; she let the silence stretch, making him think she was ignoring him.

"Oh clever, you found my name out." She laughed and mocked him. In a swift motion, the heavy boot collided with her side. Her laughter ended as she fell over and groaned. "Hel…hello to you too." Allyson choked on her words as she lifted herself back up.

"Your smart mouth isn't wanted. Especially by the Governor." The man spoke again, commanding, but he knew it wouldn't change the Corellian.

"Grab her, it's time." Quickly, his men swarmed Allyson, dragging her up to her feet. They kicked the back of her boots, making her walk in the hallway. She could sense the layout carefully; there were a few curves, but it seemed like two lifts and four straight hallways. It was easy to navigate, and her recon mission went off without a hitch.

A pair of doors opened as she was led inside. A single chair sat in the middle of the circular office. A man waited, fingers threading through his burnt orange beard. "This is her?" The man glanced at the woman almost confused as she stood there, refusing to sit.

"Yes, sir." The other man spoke, almost proud of his conquest. The Governor looked almost unimpressed at Locke while she stood there. He circled her as his hound watched.

"Not as impressive as her reputation states…" Allyson frowned at the Governor's comment, but she remained silent.

The Governor stopped just behind her, and for a moment, there was nothing but the quiet hum of the room. Then, a single nod.

Rough hands grabbed her again, forcing her down into the chair. The room felt colder now, its silence hanging. Without warning, a swift tug yanked the black hood from her head.

Light flooded her vision. The Governor stepped into view, her face sharp and composed, and her eyes locked on hers.

"Let us begin, Allyson Locke."

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Ison Corridor //:
//: Anoat Sector //:
//: Varonat //:
//: Attire //:

"Oh, fellas, we can really talk about this," Allyson sheepishly smiled as she shrugged. The men weren't impressed; there was already a fear they had for the woman, knowing who she was. Though thinking they had the upper hand, there was a bravado that the governor of Varonat had while he grinned, continuing to comb his beard as he thought.

"It was too easy to find you, Locke; who sent you? Why are you on my world?" He asked as his face got close to hers. Allyson wrinkled her nose as she was forced to inhale his sweat and remnants of the death stick to he had before she arrived. She leaned back, the chair tilting slightly on its back legs. Seeing this, the governor's hound walked over and forced her further back till her feet dangled.

"Behave." the man commanded, thinking she'd listen.

When the chair was let go, she fell forward slightly, but the wooden chair did a good job staying upright. "Jeez, anyway. " She looked back at the bearded governor and cleared her throat. Shrugging, she started as her eyes darted around the room, seeing if there was a way she could get out.

"Well, I heard that Varonat was really pret--" She was cut off by the ringing of the black comm device on the desk behind the governor. "Oh, you should probably answer that," Allyson warned with her eyebrows raised. She knew who was calling and could feel the woman seething through space.

"No, why should I?" he asked as he walked over to the device and looked at it. On the front where the image of Madelyn Lowe would show up, instead was a candid photo of the woman leaning back preparing to sneeze, her nose wrinkled and a red clown nose drawn on.

"Who is this?" He asked again, pointing to the phone and showing the picture. Allyson pressed her lips together as she stifled a laugh. The man didn't know someone above him in government, and she couldn't get over how hilarious the photo was.

"Just answer it and find out." She goaded him as she laughed again. "It's my boss, duh." Seeing this as an opportunity, the man answered it and did his best to sound tough: " Hel—" Suddenly, his face ran white as the sound of a very irate blonde Imperial Minister echoed over the speaker.

"Oh, she's mad," Allyson quipped as she laughed.

The man listened, nodded quickly, and walked over to Allyson. "She wants to talk to you," Allyson sighed and nodded her head. Her hands were bound, but she could hold the phone to her ear with her shoulder. "Hand it over," Allyson inhaled deeply, knowing what was coming. The moment the phone was tucked against her cheek, she winced as Madelyn shouted and made her demands.

"Wh-Wha—Hold on, let me tell you," Allyson tried to cut through the flurry of threats of being fired, pay cuts, and the amount of hell she would have to pay. "I'm in the middle of something," Allyson whispered sharply into the phone, and the woman quieted for a second, then began again. "I'm--Okay, yes, yes, I know. Okay, but --" Allyson looked around at the two men who had just watched. The Corellian mouthed 'I'm sorry and both men nodded - scared of who ever was on the other end of the phone.

The shouting continued, and the Corellian wondered how long she could shout like this without losing her voice. Maybe it was her superpower or something. "I can't..." Allyson said, then in her best impression of Madelyn's accent, "give you a report right this second,"

Following the display, a curt, sharp response that made Allyson wince and nervously laugh. "I" 'm kind of being interrogated. - What do you mean why? Hav-- okay, yes, I know you've…" Allyson shut up again; this time, she stood and paced slightly with the wooden chair still tied to her.

"I can't talk like this, Maddie; relax. Just give me five minutes, okay? Okay, yes, yes, I know you care, thank you." (she didn't say that 100% but Allyson knew deep down) Allyson slowly let the comm device fall from her face. It thudded against the ground and rolled over on its back, and Madelyn could be heard shouting for the Corellian to get back on the line.

"I'm busy, dear" Allyson shouted knowing she was making the situation worse. Slowly, she looked at the two guys. "Sorry, boys, I'm going to have to cut this short. The boss is a little irritated with me."

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Ison Corridor //:
//: Anoat Sector //:
//: Varonat //:
//: Attire //:

It took the Governor a moment to register, but his hound was already trying to lunge at Allyson. Seeing him from the corner of her eye, she swung the chair she was strapped against him. His shoulder took the brunt of the blow, but it only staggered him slightly. Allyson used the swing's momentum to turn herself, keeping her back away from the pair.

"Okay, so, we can just call this a momentary truce, I get the phone, I escape, and I keep getting yelled at." Allyson stepped back, "You two get to continue doing what you two were doing before arresting me." She nodded, her hands behind her back, working on trying to get out of the handcuffs. Unfortunately, the pair knew her affinity with mechu deru and used manual cuffs. Allyson continued to wiggle her hands and wrists as she continued to ramble, buying herself time.

"Yeah, so vacation, Varonat - pretty great, yeah?" She laughed nervously, seeing that the bodyguard had locked the cuffs tight around her wrists. Always had to be the tough way. "Okay then." Stepping forward, she headbutted the Governor, who seemed to not think she would attack him. His hands weren't anywhere near his face to guard, and he stumbled back, whimpering, holding his now bleeding nose.

The guard swung, his fist aiming to touch her already bruised chin. Allyson stepped to the left and leaned away from the swing. As he continued with his moment, she swung the chair hard, and he collapsed into it. Allyson and the chair followed; she tumbled to the side and lay there. "Chit," she cursed as she tried to rotate herself back to her feet.

Luckily, the Governor decided he wanted to join, grabbed the woman by her collar, and raised her high. At that moment, she realized his stature was close to the butcher-king. "Oh, you're a big boy," Allyson smirked before she kneed him in the chin. He dropped her; from the height she had hoped, it was enough to break the chair.

She wasn't wrong. The chair broke but didn't look as graceful as in the holofilms. "Ugh," Allyson groaned as she rolled over on the rubble that was once the wooden chair. Her arms were still behind her back, so she brought her legs up and brought her arms forward. Things would be easier from here on out.

Sitting up, Allyson continued to try to get out of the handcuffs. The actual fighter of the two stood up from his daze from earlier. He dove again, and Allyson laid back and kicked him over her, tossing him aside.

"I'm busy! Wait your turn!" She yelled at him as she sat back up. The handcuffs would continue to be a problem, but at least she was comfortable?

Allyson stood and ran over to the comm. "Hey! Hi!" She knelt down, picked up the device, and brought it to her ear. "So good news, I'm escaping; bad news is…" she rounded the Governor's desk as he rolled on the floor. "Well, there's like a small militia coming after me. " There was a glint of excitement in her voice as she tried to feign worry.

Setting the comm down, she pushed the little intercom button that would echo in the hallway. Lowering her voice, she did her best to sound like the bumbling Governor. "Uhh," she cleared her throat. "Everything's perfectly all right now. We're fine, we're all fine here now. Thank you."

She closed the intercom, smugly happy with herself, but the moment she picked up the communication device, the woman on the line reminded her that she should have probably said "I" instead of "we" since the Governor would usually be in their office alone.

"Now you tell me," Allyson retorted, but before she could continue, the door of the Governor's office broke down, and the militia she had just tried to call off raised their blasters.

"Well, I need to jump out of a window now, I'll be right back." Before Madelyn Lowe could say anything, Allyson kept the line open. She just shoved the call into her jacket pocket and zipped it up. The group opened fire after they realized their Governor and the guard were out of the way. Bolts pepper sprayed the area behind the desk, and Allyson brought the collar of her jacket over her head so that it could take the brunt of any stray bolts.

Running, she dove into the glass of the large window and fell down the large government tower. The wind whipped against Allyson's face as she reached out to grab the first thing she could touch. One of the extended railings brushed her fingers, and she gripped them, catching herself. "Oh, chit," she screeched as her body hit the building hard, and the wind quickly knocked out of her. Another groan and several more curse words echoed and were easily heard by the Minister on the other line of the call.

Allyson took a minute to catch her breath, then kicked off the wall and let herself fall again until she saw another extending railing. Once more, she slammed into the wall and more curse words. The pattern continued until she reached the ground, where she could easily get lost in the crowded protests.

The voice of the Governor could be heard over the loudspeaker system he had set up. Her name was cursed, and he threatened to kill whoever harbored her. Unfortunately for him, the protestors didn't fear his threats, nor did they turn her over. Instead, they hid her until she got out of Tropis.

She sat in the back of one of the speeders, sunglasses covering her face and a hood over her head. None was wiser as she and her rebels returned to their safe house. They would need to fortify and be prepared for retaliation.

As they pulled into Edgefield, someone ran up to her, out of breath. "They took them, they're gone."

Allyson looked towards the town, and it had been ransacked. It must have happened the moment she was taken - so the bad guy didn't keep his word.

Surprising.

Her timeline was pushed up; she needed to finish this now.

Reaching into her pocket, she paused, feeling her side. It was warm and sticky; it seemed like a blaster, and some stray glass had caught her.

It didn't take her long to find the large shard embedded in her side. "Well, that's not good." Frowning, Allyson brought the comm to ear, "Boss, I'm going to have to give you that report later; I'm trying not to bleed out. Byee." She quickly hung up before her eyes rolled back, and she passed out.

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Ison Corridor //:
//: Anoat Sector //:
//: Varonat //:
//: Attire //:

Sunlight clipped through the blinds, slicing across the small room in narrow beams. It crawled across Allyson's face, insistent and merciless, until the Corellian finally groaned and threw a hand over her eyes.

"Ugh," she muttered, shielding herself like it had personally offended her. She shifted, blinking away sleep, and immediately froze. This wasn't her room. It was not the one she'd claimed in the house. Not the tiny cot shoved in the corner of the safe house office. Everything was too put together, organized, and childish.

She sat up slowly and winced as every inch of her body shook with pain. Tropis had taken its toll, bruised ribs, sore muscles, maybe even a cracked bone in the mess.

Scanning the space, Allyson realized she knew this room. "Why would they put me in here?" she muttered, her gaze landing on a photo frame on the nightstand. Her breath hitched just slightly. She reached for it, hesitated, then flipped it face-down. "I would end up here." A dry chuckle escaped her throat.

"Chit." her eyes widened as a realization hit her. Her hand reached into the crumpled jacket draped over the chair. Allyson dug through the pockets until she found her comm device. It buzzed when her thumb hit the screen, scrolling message after message, ping after ping, voice memos, encrypted bursts, and increasingly unhinged threats.

All from one person.

"Oh yeah. I'm in trouble." the Corellian winced while scrolling. "She can't still be pissed... right?" As if summoned by fate itself, another message popped up on the screen. Allyson sighed and turned the device face-down beside the photo. "Yep."

She reached her feet, pulled on a tank top, and slipped into her worn leather jacket. The scent hit her immediately, blaster residue, char, smoke. She sniffed the collar and grimaced. "Whew. This needs a clean."

Allyson's eyes drifted to the frame again. She picked it up and carefully set it upright. Slowly, her thumb traced the corner of the glass as a small smile pulled at her lips. Allyson caught herself. Wrinkling her nose, she muttered, "Ew," and set the frame down again, turning away as if that might help.

Still, she owed Madelyn Lowe an apology not just for the missed check-ins but for the worry, the way the Minister pretended not to care while leaking concern through bureaucratic threats and clipped reprimands. She'd handle that later. For now, the rebellion was moving without her.

Allyson stepped into the living space, where the pulse of the operation had only grown louder. The safe house buzzed with motion, more people than before, new faces, new energy. Something had shifted after the ransacking and the interrogation.

The people weren't afraid anymore. They were angry. And angry people were dangerous.

Allyson watched them, her heart swelling just a little. It was working. The chaos she'd sparked was catching flame. It would end soon, and someone capable would take the reins when it did.

She exhaled and approached one of the older women overseeing the room. "So, what's been happening?" Her tone was quiet.

They both knew what she was really asking. The woman reached out, gently brushing her fingers against the bruises scattered along Allyson's jaw. "Are you alright?"

Allyson nodded. That was enough.

"They took them," the woman whispered, pulling her aside. "To the detention center. But they keep moving it. No solid intel yet."

Allyson's face hardened. "No one's found it?"

The woman shook her head, "We've tried. Every time we get close, they vanish."

Allyson dropped her voice, glancing around. "How long was I out?"

"Almost a week. Your comm never stopped going off." The woman's voice faltered, pain creeping in at the edges. "They say... the captives will be executed. Publicly. As traitors."

Allyson closed her eyes. The woman looked away, blinking quickly, holding back the emotion that threatened to crack her composure.

"I won't let it happen," Allyson said, quiet but steel-hard. "They won't die. I'll get them out."

The woman nodded, lips pressed together, trusting her. Turning toward the door, Allyson paused to take the movement, the life, the fight in the room. It was coming together. Grabbing her gear from the rack, Allyson stepped out of the safe house and into the war she hadn't finished yet.

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Ison Corridor //:
//: Anoat Sector //:
//: Varonat //:
//: Attire //:

Getting back into the capital wasn't as hard as the Corellian thought. She had been considered a criminal for the shenanigans she had pulled. The planetary forces were too busy handling the protestors, who cried for reform and freedom. It wasn't a surprise that the man was losing his grip on the planet; everything was so fragile when Allyson arrived.

All it needed was someone to push or convince everyone else to push. The shuttle came to a stop. The driver looked back and pointed towards the gate. "Everything has been shut down. There are too many people, and it looks like they're starting to build something." The man nodded again towards the half-built statue. Allyson grinned. Her little drunken hints and rants seemed to have motivated the rebels.

"Thanks, it's almost over." She climbed out and adjusted the quiver on her hip. The driver didn't say anything else; if he did, she didn't hear it, having already started to push through the foliage. Her mission was to get to the office again. Once she was there, she could figure out where the prisoners were being kept and end this once and for all.

Allyson slipped into the folds of the Force, disappearing as she weaved through the crowd. She could hear their chanting at its loudest at this point. Looking up, she could see the Governor and his guard standing on his office balcony. Behind him, the shattered window was boarded up from her escape. For some reason, the thought of him having to be reminded of her every time he stepped into that office.

Slowly, she slipped into the building. She could hear his words echoing from his attempt to quell the masses. At first, he tried to tell them he wasn't the enemy, that they could work together to make Varonat great again. He finally spiraled into threats about the horrible things he could do to them. He needed to be stopped before he continued to drive the planet into the ground.

The Blackwall didn't help Varonat, and the Governor didn't help his people through it. Shaking her head, Allyson continued to work through the hallways she remembered and memorized when she had been captured. It was all part of the plan, minus the bruised chin, black eye, and laceration that liked to bleed if she moved too quickly. Keeping everything in mind, Allyson knew she was working with limited time.

Remembering the layout from her steps, Allyson remained unseen and crept along the hallways leading up towards his office. Drawing closer, she was starting to discern his voice vs. the echo of the microphone. He was angry, and his venom spat into the microphone, but with threat, he was met with a roar from the crowd. They wanted him gone; he was no more than a dictator at this point.

Rounding the corner of the office, it seemed the doors were also not fixed. Allyson wondered if this was part of the partial labor strike that was happening until the man was removed from office. Stepping through, she held her breath, knowing that it was more than likely they had set up a way to catch her. The guard he knew too much about her - there was something about him that was familiar.

"Hello, Locke," A voice rang in her ear, and by instinct, she stepped to her left. The man's fist missed her as he moved to strike her. Dropping the cloak, she realized he was able to see through it - see its movements. "Hello there, Guy?" Allyson tried to imagine how to do it. Either he had some tech, or he was also a force assassin or former Shadow. Another heavy swing, Allyson ducked, weaving through and using the Force to enhance her strike against his ribs.

She felt his body give, his ribs cracking under the pressure of the Force-enhanced strike. The man groaned as he reached to grab her by her jacket collar. Fingers gripped the leather as he dragged her in front of him. It was then she realized he had two cybernetic eyes; the hum she heard wasn't just hers—it was his as well. Knowing this now, she grinned.

"Wipe that smirk off your face," He sneered, "I'm going to enjoy killing you, traitor."

It was personal. The man's fist made contact with the laceration from earlier. Allyson did her best to soften the blow by strengthening her body, the only way she could go through the Force. He had caught her by surprise with his omission of who and where he was from. The man was SIA, specifically trained to hunt her. Her memory flooded in; he had been someone close to M during that time, and now he was here. This meant that M was either still alive and pulling his strings or just a normal agent doing his job.

The Agent kept his grip on her jacket, bringing her back up for another blow. Something inside of him was enjoying this - she was the baggage left from the corruption of the SIA, or so he believed. The hand that punched her wrapped his fingers around her throat, and his grip tightened. He lifted her up by her throat, and her feet kicked to try and do anything to get him to let her go.

"I've been chasing you for too long—who would have thought I'd find you here, after all these years? " His grip tightened further, and Allyson started to worry a little. Her hands pulled at his thick wrist, and he laughed. "It's over—you were just a bonus to my current job." His eyes flickered towards the man on the balcony, trying to calm his people.

Allyson saw this as her opportunity; she reached through the Force, focusing on the cybernetic eyes. She could feel them and sense how they worked - he hadn't opted for the anti-mechu deru option. He looked back at the grinning Corellian, whose larynx he was about to crush.

"What are you smiling at?" he asked, his grip closing again on her throat.

Allyson choked but stayed smiling as she waved.

"What-AAGH" In an instant, the two cybernetic eyes short-circuited, burning his face. His grip failed as his hands now reached his eyes, trying to make the fluids and shattered machinery stop hurting. A slew of curse words followed as he stumbled back, clawing at his face.

Allyson coughed, trying to catch her breath; he had a good grip. If she waited any longer, she would have passed out, and it would not have been a cool way to die. She was better than that. Drawing the bow, she walked behind the distraught Agent and whacked him hard on the back of the head. He collapsed, falling face first.

"Wh-What happened to Gregor?" A deep but suddenly frightened voice called out. Allyson looked up and saw the Governor. With his guard down, he was frightened, and Allyson brought the bow level. He moved towards the balcony, leaning against the railing. An arrow nocked in the Corellian's bow as she crept closer.

"Let them go," She demanded, the weapon drawn and pointed towards the Governor.

The man reached into his jacket, and the bowstring tightened, "It's just me getting my comm to let them know to free the kids." Allyson watched and almost instantly as the man drew the blaster - the thin arrow pierced his neck.

Unfortunately for Allyson, he was able to fire off a single bolt. Instead of the blaster firing just the plasma blast, a sound wave felt almost piercing against her shoulder. Her jacket protected the spy from the initial shot, but the wave of sound that came with it blasted her back into the wall. Allyson leaned forward as the world was muffled, but she could hear clear enough the sudden silence of the protestors.

Allyson stood as her vision pulsated the scene around her. She could hear her own heartbeats thundering loudly. She was always a good shot, but maybe she missed? Still, she needed to confirm the kill. Walking towards the balcony, Allyson peered over, seeing the Governor's body over the edge. The moment the crowd saw her, they cheered.

Their oppressor was gone.

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Ison Corridor //:
//: Anoat Sector //:
//: Varonat //:
//: Attire //:

The capital roared with celebration. Prisoners were released, and families found peace once more. The party continued for days, and community artists built the statue to their savior.

Allyson had joined the first evening, deciding to drink through the pain of her injuries. It didn't bode too well for the woman, but she didn't regret it. Still, even though her mind was to let loose - before she reached the crowd that first night, Allyson sent a quick encrypted message.

Still breathing.

It was quick and to the point.

The partying continued, but Allyson found herself in the Governor's office. People bustled around, repairing the damage caused by her jumping through the window and the chaos the Corellian caused. Flicking through her device, she did the math for the expense report. She was too deep into the red, but that's what happens when you rebuild a house and a statue.

"Taeli did say to spend what I need." Shrugging, Allyson quickly sent off the expense report prepared to deal with it when Taeli Raaf brought it up eventually.

Speaking of the woman, she promptly rang her along with Madelyn Lowe . Brushing back her bang flyaways aside to look her best, despite the black eye and the bruising along her chin and neck. "It's not that bad, is it?" She mumbled to herself and hoped the holo didn't reveal too much.

When the other women answered the holo call, they would find the insufferable Corellian spy leaning back in the office chair, feet on the desk and her hands behind her head.

"Well hello there," Allyson would greet them with a chit-eating grin, which only meant she was successful.

 

[Madelyn Lowe]

On a luxury star yacht ambling into the atmosphere of Varonat, things were unraveling. Papers and clothes were strewn about the quarters, thrown by a Minister who had reached the end of her narrow tolerance. They were approaching Varonat now, and with every second that passed Madelyn grew more worried for the agent, and more annoyed at herself for having developed such a fondness for her.

Then, just as they were preparing for the ship's descent into Varonat's thick atmosphere, Madelyn heard a familar chime. After days of silence, her communicator was ringing. Her heart leaped then did a somersault, a million feelings rushing through her at once, then worry, remembering how the last call had included. Tentatively, Madelyn picked up the call.

"Hello?"

"Well hello there,"

Madelyn's eyes narrowed to slits, Allyson undoubtedly able to feel her displeasure even through the crackly comm connection.

"LOCKE!" Madelyn screamed into the communicator. "You don't have to worry about being fired because I am going to KILL YOU!"

Beneath the anger, concern flickered to life inside Madelyn. It was clear her little spy had been through the ringer, and infuriating rogue unit though she was, Madelyn didn't want Allyson going out and ruining her pretty face.

"Alright." Madelyn said a little more evenly. After all the worry she'd put Madelyn through and all the questions surrounding her presence on Varonat, and especially her trespassing on the hallowed halls of Madelyn's childhood home, it was about time Allyson turned in her report.

She noticed a pending connection routing it's way through coded channels to another recipient. Taeli Raaf would join them in a moment, not much more time for a private discussion.

"Allyson." said Madelyn in a tone that brooked no argument. "Explain to me just what you have been doing that has been worth me flying halfway across the Galaxy to come looking for you."

Allyson Locke ​

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Varonat //:
//: Attire //:

Madelyn was the first to answer just as Allyson had hoped.

Hearing the woman scream her last name was the icing on her victory. There was something almost addictive about watching the usually composed Minister unravel because of her. Allyson didn't flinch, didn't take the threat to heart.

Something told her that, despite Madelyn's fury, her life was still quite safe.

She leaned back in the chair, listening patiently, waiting for the tantrum to burn out and the polished Minister to resurface. The bruises still colored her face, though the swelling had gone down. Still hurt like a Wookiee had used her for a cushion the past forty-eight hours.

"Across the galaxy," Allyson echoed, nodding, catching the edge of frustration in the woman's voice. "I think you just can't bear to let a gorgeous gal like me outta your sight, Mads." Her smirk widened as she teased the woman, safely out of reach for now.

"I do have a surprise for you," Allyson added, "but I'll wait for the Councillor to join us. Sit tight." She winked, then began to hum a soft Corellian nursery rhyme, the tune lilting through the static of distance.