Take Off The Mask

[Alric Kuhn]

He lay in the tent for hours. He had no idea how much time went by, no idea what happened in that time.

He simple saw things.

Fiona and Violet came to him. They spoke to him, joked with him, egged him on. They even began to tell him about the spots, telling him why they were important, why they went beyond the game, and more important what the represented. Fiona at one point bonked him on the head, striking him lightly and telling him something important.

He could no longer remember what though.

The truth was he lay in place on his stomach for hours, bandages wrapped around him, soaked and bloody. At one point one of the female Tuskens had put his shirt on him, letting the white cotton soak up red blood. His jacket as well had been draped over him, a gesture of kindness he was sure, though again that may have just been a guess.

These were an odd people.

He still saw things.

The hallucinations were not as strong, and he did not see Fiona and Violet again, but he saw the spots, the bright flashing colors of red, green, and sparkling black.

Those colors he saw.

They were important for some reason, though for the life of him he couldn't remember why. Fiona would have hit him again and mocked him for being so forgetful. That thought had brought a smile to his face, though it quickly disappeared as a Tusken came into the tent and force fed him water and what was some kind of porridge.

Apparently they wanted to keep him alive.

For now.

Another few hours passed and he began to feel his strength return. His back still ached, more than anything he had ever felt before, the sandy grit inside the wounds pushed against exposed muscle, and every time he tried to move Alric found himself crying out in agony.

The heavy coat over him hid his bloody back, though his ragged breaths were telling of something wrong.

Yet his mind was returning.

The game was coming back to him.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

T A T O O I N E
J U N D L A N D W A S T E S
T H E W O U N D

The Twin Suns would arch over the sky and then finally dip into the horizon.

Dusk was upon the Jundland Wastes.

Danger had used her time wisely, setting up camp at a fair distance from A’Shar R’orr’s tribe where the bulk of her items could be safely stored. She needed to make sure that she kept the speeder light -- as soon as she had Kuhn they had to leave quickly.

The canyons would be patrolled by various Sand People scouts, but they couldn’t see everything at every given moment.

Dressed to the nines to make herself appear more than just a desert wanderer and more like a demon, Danger would move on the speeder and make her way towards her objective. A mental thought came to her that she’ll have to park the speeder a distance from the tribe.

Kuhn better be light on his feet, that was for sure.

Ambassador slug throwers were holstered at her thighs, and a blaster rifle slung in a strap across her chest. There were some shivs here and there, and lastly, that karking junk Templar lightsaber.

A curse would utter under her breath.

Karking Kuhn.

 

[Alric Kuhn]

Light on his feet? Doubtful.

He couldn't move. His body was frozen in place, his mind shaking, though slowly recovering. His body was slowly righting itself, slowly. It would take more than hours to heal him, more than days, more than moths perhaps. The sand and grit that had been rubbed into the wounds certainly didn't help things.

Yet, he found that he was able to move.

His back incapacitated him, but his legs, his arms, and even his shoulders could still move somewhat. Any strain on his wounds caused him to nearly scream out in pain, any pull of his muscles or turn of his spine would cause him to nearly pass out again.

It took him nearly an hour to roll onto his side.

At times he dreamed of Titans Fleet coming to Tatooine, of his knew fighters swooping down and his armada breaking the Tuskens. A pipe dream, but a small comfort.

“It's...It's not so bad.” Alric said to himself, huffing breaths pressing through his lungs as he tried to speak to the tears that were welling in his eyes.

He was lying to himself.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

T A T O O I N E
J U N D L A N D W A S T E S
T H E W O U N D


The small fire pits would flicker gold and crimson light against the lone figures of Tusken Raiders surrounding them. Large Banthas, hoofing the ground and blowing billows of air through their nostrils would turn to rest for the night. Dusk fell, and Danger made her move.

Bahbit had given her a basic crude idea of the settlement. A very crude idea, but at the most she was able to determine what area she should head towards. If anything, he would be in the holding tents. Question was, in which particular holding tent? She didn't have the time to play musical tents all night.

The best thing she could do is blend in, keep a low profile, and simply act normal.

Well... here goes nothing, she mused to herself, as she began to make headway into the settlement.

 

[Alric Kuhn]

He lay there on his side, jacket over him shirt and bandages stained with blood, concentration on his face. Alric tried to work through the pain, to make it go away, to try and settle his screaming muscles. It didn't work, mind over matter ever did with him.

Instead he ended up laying on his side, blood seeping through his jacket, pain etched in his face, and his hands shaking from the sheer and utter exhaustion that he was feeling. “At least I stopped crying.”

Alric whispered to himself as quietly as a mouse.

That was something at the very least, though the pain was enough to make a Krayt Dragon cry. Very likely he had simply run out of moisture and was now running on empty. His head turned up to the top of the tent and he let out a deep sigh, something that arched his back slightly and caused a massive feeling of pain to lance through him.

Alric winced, curling in on himself.

The curl cause his back to stretch and cause him even more pain. Involuntary spasms rushed through his entire body, hurt, pain, and agony rushing through him until his body began to release all sorts of drugs to stop it. Dopamine, endorphins, adrenaline, all of it was pumped into his blood steam, all of it in hopes of stopping the pain.

All of it in vain.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

T A T O O I N E
J U N D L A N D W A S T E S
T H E W O U N D

Many of the Tusken Raiders were already in bed or too busy around the fire pits. That helped out at least with sneaking into the area. Her grasp of the Tusken language also was a boon, because she was able to gather bits and pieces of information here and there.

She stayed close to the tents; it was a mix of moving, pausing, listening closely, and then moving forward. Ever wary, Danger would take out her shiv. If anything, a slice of a throat would be the quickest and cleanest kill. Not to mention the all important silent one.

There was a close call, as she would swing around behind the tents. A firewatch. Pressing herself against the tent, Danger could feel her heart thundering in hear ears. It was here where she could not afford to make mistakes. Every second and every move could lead to victory or death.

And she was keen on keeping her hide on her own back.

The firewatch would turn to the right, the sphere of flickering light of his torch leaving her sight. An exhale of relief fell through her rebreather mask. Okay -- that was a close one.

 

[Alric Kuhn]

Pain kissed him.

Again and again in alternating waves it came to him. He could feel the grit in his wounds, the blood trying to clot, the wetness of the rags against him. It was all very uncomfortable, all agonizingly painful. He wanted to scream about it, thrash his fists, throw a tantrum, but he knew he couldn't.

It would just hurt more.

Instead he closed his eyes, taking deep long breaths at first, then slowly breathing out. With every intake he shortened how long he held until eventually he began to hyperventilate. His lungs filled and emptied quickly, his head began to buzz, and oxygen filled him completely. Riding the high of that, Alric forced himself to sit up.

From the position on his side it normally would not have been difficult, but with his hands bound and his back aflame he felt as though he were wearing apart his entire being as he came right up off the floo onto his rear.

A loud groan of pain escaped him, and he felt blood trickle down his back anew.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

T A T O O I N E
J U N D L A N D W A S T E S
T H E W O U N D

Five more minutes of observation and narrowly missing getting caught, Danger managed to gather the gist of the day’s events.

A slave had decided to attempt to escape. Her shoulders would straighten in frustration. Let me guess…

Kuhn.

Her lips would thin under her rebreather, cursing under her breath at the man. Oh it very well could not be the CEO of Blast-Tech. At least she hoped so. However, considering just what kind of devil may care attitude the man had shown her before; rude and inconsiderate, not to mention insubordinate, it was likely that he very well could be the one who attempted to escape.

Ugh, Stars save her from idiotic men.

Just where did he think he was going to go?

The native of Tatooine shook her shrouded head. Out here, she looked every bit like a desert bohemian herself. Alright, here goes nothing.

Narrowing down on the specific tent, Danger would spend another five minutes determining which would likely be the one that contained Alric. Considering there were two well armed Tusken Raiders at the mouth of a particular tent, she could give an educated guess that is where they would have Kuhn.

Thing is, she couldn’t quite go through the front flap.

She spent a few more minutes waiting, watching and observing. Finally, she made her move. Darting from behind one tent to the next, she made way to her objective. Coming to a stop at the rear of one heavy leather tent, Danger went leaning close.
Listening for any Tusken or pissed off CEO.

 

[Alric Kuhn]

There were no words from him, only quiet groans of pain as he sat up.

Alric knew that he was going to die. Either he would heal and they would kill him, or the sand and grit within his wounds would dig in an cause an infection. Fever would take hold and Alric would die as surely as the suns would rise the next morning. The throbbing dull ache in his back grew worse and worse as he thought about this, and he had to strain not to wall over.

His hands were pinned to his feet, keeping him in a crossed legged position. It seemed to ease the tension on his back this way, keeping his muscles loose and untaught, allowing them to rest so that bleeding might finally stopped.

He had no idea Danger was right outside, no idea she was here to save him.

Of course surrounding the Tent was nothing much. The Tuskens knew that there wasn't a chance that Alric would try to escape again. His injury was too severe for him to run, and he would die from infection within hours of leaving. Only two guards were in position because of that, and they were not paying the greatest of attention, then again, neither was Alric.

The slicing of leather went unheard from him, the cutting of Bantha hide muffled by other noises in the camp.

He didn't see Danger step into the tent directly behind him, he didn't see her move or creep up in that cat-thief outfit that she was wearing. To do so would have meant turning around, and that would have created pain on a larger scale than he had felt her.

Yet he still noticed her.

It wasn't the sight of her. It wasn't the rustling of the tent flaps, and it was most certainly not she herself stepping through the sands. It was her smell. That incredibly uplifting alluring aroma, the one that called to you, enticed and pulled at you. For a moment confusion reigned in his mind.

Was he hallucinating? Imagine things? Thinking something was there.

His eyes closed for a moment and he saw Fiona and Violet, both holding one of his hands. When he opened his eyes he took in a deep breath.

No Fiona.

No Violet.

The smell was real.

“Hidden Little Spots.”

He practically mouthed the words.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

There was no mistaking the hair.

Granted, it was mused and covered with a thick layer of sand, grit, and dust. He sat in the middle of the tent, his back towards her.

Slowly she would inch forward, taking careful steps -- is that a suit jacket?

Just what in the blazes was he thinking?!

A look of disgust would wash over her face, and she would shake her head. Salted tears under the bridge now. Two meters away. One.

One dirty gloved hand would reach round to cover Alric’s mouth. She didn’t need him to start squealing like a gutted Bantha and bring the two guards upon them. A closer inspection didn't show him to be tied to the center pole. Maybe his hands were tied?

At his ear, the thrum of an androgynous metallic voice would thrum.

“Don’t make a sound if you want to live and do exactly as I say.”

There was no arguing with that tone.

"Get up, exit is in the back."

 

[Alric Kuhn]

He jerked slightly.

It wasn't surprise, but her touch that did it. He had expected her to touch him, to alert him to her presence. She wouldn't have guessed his current state, not in a million years, but that didn't matter. Her touched jarred him, it pulled him back to that hellish abyss, the lash striking his skin over and over again.

A shake ran through his body, involuntary as Danger spoke to him through a voice modulator, her voice distorted, sounding different, but he knew it was her. The smell, the smell told him, that sweet pleasant drawing aroma.

Memories still flooded his head. Leather slicing into his skin, dirt rubbing into his wounds, pain rushing through him. Involuntarily he flexed, and his back screamed. The endorphins kicked in once again and adrenaline pushed through his system. He found his breathing to be labored, his senses to be heightened.

Fight or flight.

Part of the game of humanity.

Alric closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, inhaling as much as he could and then gritting his teeth. The CEO of Titan Industries practically rolled forward. His back stretched, and he could feel his wounds tearing open, blood spilling out to saturate bandages, shirt, and inside of suit jacket.

He wanted to scream, but his mouth was sealed shut.

Alric climbed to a standing position, pulling himself up, though not to his full height, that was too much for his back. The pain was strong, powerful sensations of hurt rolling over him, his head pounding, his wounds throbbing. He turned to face Danger with no lacking amount of anguish in his face, though he said nothing.

She went first, heading out exactly where she had come from, with careful treading steps he followed behind her.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

Danger would pan her gaze left to right, leaning forward out of the tent to give the area her full attention.

The space was large enough to warrant making a dash for the edge of the settlement; but that would also flag them. The scarf she had round her head would be abruptly tugged off, the gaiter, googles activated with nightvision, and air rebreather still hiding the bulk of her face and the bright red of her hair.

She shoved the scarf at his belly, the silent command for him to wear it clear.

The low murmurs of the settlement and the night would resonate around them, and after a second, Danger would beckon him with two gloved fingers to follow her.

She would dart from tent to tent, feet giving quicklike movements as she would scout ahead. A pause would come every now and then, only to follow with another motion to hurry on behind her.

So far so good. Luck was with Danger at least for now.

But they still had a ways to go before they got to the speeder.

 

[Alric Kuhn]

With a great deal of pain Alric followed after her.

His back ached, his body seemed to float, but he kept on going. He knew he had to. He knew he had to escape, he had to follow Danger.

That was what he focused on.

Her.

Alric did as he was told, wrapping the scarf around himself to hide and blend in, falling behind Danger slightly. A few times he stumbled, catching himself by the stake of a tent or by straightening his legs. A few times he nearly fell into the dirt. It helped that they stopped so often, gave him a time to lean against wherever they stopped.

He began to pant rather loudly, feeling the blood from his wounds drip down his back and saturate his bandages and shirt.

The man behind Titan Industries was now sure both his bandages and shirt were completely saturated with blood, his jacket would be next. Briefly he wondered if he would go to shock, though the thought was quickly silenced by Danger urging him forward.

His head began to spin, but like a loyal puppy he followed her through the camp.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

If Danger wasn't so wrapped up at being extra vigilant, she'd have wondered at the surprising ability for Alric Kuhn to not be uttering wisecracks. For one who simply had just about everything to say for every situation, he certainly was being very quiet.

At least, until she started to hear the strained wheezing pants. A frown drew over her brow, under the gaiter she wore. Her eyes would narrow in wariness when a sphere of a torchlight would flare to life some feet away.

She froze, plastering herself against the tent, a sudden motion sent to Alric to do the same. Only he was too busy leaning against a small pole, body bent forward a bit.

Ire and frustration drew over her as she kept motioning for him to hide. Three meters.

Two.

Nek take it if he didn't get his ass plastered against that darkened corner, she was going to shoot him herself.

 

[Alric Kuhn]

He wanted to scream as she tried to push him back. He wanted to yell, but instead he bit his tongue. His eyes bulged, and he forced himself to sit upright. Blood dripped down his lower back and into his pants. He felt it, he felt his wounds tear open once again as he straightened and pushed against the dark alcove.

It hurt.

It hurt like nothing he had ever felt before.

When he straightened his back against the alcove he felt the press of bloody bandages, of hot wet sand pushed deeper into his wounds, of grit moving between his muscles and flesh. Tears welled in his eyes, and were it not for the lack of moisture within his body Alric would have begun to cry once again.

The pain.

It was unreal.

As the torchlight passed Alric whispered to her, his head swimming, his body on the verge of breaking down. “Go...Please.”

It was a pitying plea, one that Danger followed. She moved, running through the encampment from tent to tent.

The lost little puppy limping after her.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

She might have imagined the 'please.' Possibly could have. Since when did Kuhn have manners? He surely didn't five days ago.

Focus, Danger!

Things went a bit easier now; they were nearing the edge of the settlement. Thankfully, no cries of alarm. If there was one thing Danger knew, is that you never want to fight an enemy on ground he'd chosen if you can avoid it.

The last of the tents would clear, Danger thankfully still holding out her Ambassador pistol as she motioned for Alric to move ahead. She'd cover him, a hand gesture motioning towards the direction he should go.

Granted, that was through a small herd of sleeping Bantha, but even he wouldn't be so foolish as to startle them. Beyond that would be the steep walls of the canyons to the right, the Wound and sure death to the left.

All they had left to pass beyond that was the Bantha herder keeping watch...

Then to the speeder which awaited tucked alongside the boulders ahead.

 

[Alric Kuhn]

He moved quickly, or as quickly as he could. Alrics mind couldn't even focus on what he was doing, he simply moved on the path that Danger had direct him to. There was no conscious thought, no directive, no next step in the game, nothing. His mind was beginning to break, his thoughts pushing into delirium once again. The hazy darknes of the night became coated in a soft glow.

He walked among the field of Bantha, the soft snuggly creatures that seemed to innocent. They were not the ones that whipped him, they had absolutely nothing to do with it, he knew that. He wanted to hug them for that, to touch them and say thank you.

Alric reached out a hand to touch one of these creatures and thank it, but suddenly something caught his palm.

He looked bewildered at the hand that had caught his, its soft glowing light, then towards the figure that stood next to him. His eyes opened wide, and once again he found himself standing next to Violet. Her not so sunny disposition stared back at him, and she scowled, wagging one of her fingers.

“No you idiot! Do as she says!”

Her hand came up and smacked him, her ghostly strike causing her to disappear as she struck him.

For a moment Alric stood there dazed, then his eyes cast back towards Danger. 'Do as she says'. He nodded. The words of his older sister. He could trust her. Violet wouldn't lie, never to him, never.

Quickly he moved through the Bantha field like an operative who had trained in the arts of stealth for decades, ignoring the pain, the delerium, and the grating of sand into flesh.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

What the hell was he trying to --

Ire rose just as she caught him about to hug a bloody fething Bantha.

I'm going to shoot him, she thought to herself. I'm going to shot him my -- he backed off. Good

"Are you insane?!" came her uttered chagrined and exasperated exclamation, her voice a ticked off hiss through the voice modulator.

Feet would back-pedal, lifting little tuffs of sand and dirt as she would move on deft feet. Her blaster would sweep left and right, ever at the ready. Faster still.
A glance back over her shoulder would note that finally Kuhn was moving with some sort of urgency.

"Hala.. halala," came her low hush of a voice, reverting to the Tusken tongue for him to get his attention. "This way," she instructed, moving north. The tiny flickers of firepits would dwindle in the distance. Freedom was so close one could practically taste it. Had the night been brighter, she'd have caught sight of the blood trail the CEO of Blast-Tech Industries was leaving behind.

As it was, her mind was focused on getting them the hell out of here. The further away from A'shar R'orr they could be the better. A few more meters would see them edging along a series of large boulders, up to the right, her hidden speeder would be perched under a netting of desert cammo.

She would holster her blaster, moving ahead of him to whip off the netting, rolling it up and shoving it into the side compartment. Closing it with a rushed push of her hand, she made haste. A leg would swing over to plop herself on top, sparing only the briefest of hand motions for him to sit behind her.

"Hold on tight. I ain't stopping if you fall." she said curtly, although there wasn't any venom in her voice as much as a stark frankness of just what kind of situation they were in.

They had to leave. And they had to leave fast.

 

[Alric Kuhn]

She rushed passed him again, a blur of clothes within the darkness.

A hushed low voice spoke to him, still not her, still not Danger, but he could smell her, so it had to be her. Right? They came closer to something, closer to...he had no idea what they were called at present time, yet some of the haste seemed to edge out of her, some of the urgency drained, though her hushed voice was still pressing him on, still pushing him.

He struggled.

His legs began to feel weak as they rose through the rocks. His arms became heavier, his body felt as though it weigh a thousand desert stones.

Alric wanted to move, he wanted to follow her. He wanted to listen to her, he wanted to listen to Violet.

Violet.

She wouldn't lie. She wouldn't lead him in the wrong way. Tears welled in his eyes, he had to keep going, he had to push himself. Agony rushed through him as his arm pushed him off of a rock he had been leaning on, his back stretching and his wounds grinding with sandy grit.

He felt his tongue bleeding, sliced open by his own teeth.

Alric stumbled towards Danger, moved towards her like a drunken man. Blood dripped from his back, his bandages little more than lake of crimson. His jacket as well was now soaked, dripping a trail of red longer than a Banthas tail.

The world become shrouded, hazy, dark, he saw Danger, he saw the thing.

He was so close.

Another figure appeared behind her, behind Danger, behind the girl with the hidden spots.

“Violet?”

He said the word out loud, his sister giving him and encouraging smile, a wave. He was so close, so close. Another step forward, his sister was there, Violet was there, but where was Fiona? His head shook, he had to get there. Another step, only a half a dozen away now. He saw the girl with hidden spots motion to him, call to him.

Almost there.

Alric collapsed into the desert sands.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

Just as she rev'd the speeder to life, she heard a heavy thud behind her. Her head went swiveling behind her, hand already reading for the Ambassador pistol and drawing it out with an uncanny quickness akin to those who used that Hoodoo.

She was fully expecting that a Tusken Raider might have put the drop on them, her heart at her throat and every intention of sending a slug down wind in the steady grip of her hand.

Only instead of seeing one of the Sand People behind her, she found instead the collapsed body of Alric Kuhn. What in the bloody hell?

"Damnit, Kuhn!" she immediately thought the worse. Did he get shot? No, she didn't hear any sound of fire. Much the less there still was no sound of alarm.

She swung her leg over, rising up to rush to him, her blaster held out and panning left to right. No, nothing. There was nothing. Then why was he...

That's when she saw it. Well, more to the point, realized he wasn't wearing his jacket anymore. No, it had fallen to the wayside. She would have thought he still had it on, for the thick dark stain that ran down his back and saturated his shirt made it appear to be his jacket under the faint moonlight.

She took a knee, reaching out to get him to his feet. That's when her glove touched the clotted wetness on his back.

Her stomach fell into an abyss.

Eyes would widen behind her goggles. Her attention would jerk up, following the path he'd taken until he'd collapsed. It was stained black under the fall of night.

Blood.

A lot of blood.

"You karking fool!" came her sudden erupted curse at Kuhn. Emotions warred within her; anger and fear, frustration and concern.

"You should have bloody well said something!" she hissed out at him with notable venom, question was if it was directed at him or herself.

I should have noticed.

Her hand would tuck away her blaster, and then with more strength than one would have given her, grabbed him under the armpits and lifted up.

"C'mon, walk damnit!" she'd shoulder his heavier weight, intending to get him to the speeder. They needed to get out of here fast. While she had the Asphodlaria Mold in a pouch around her neck, she could not use it then and there. They didn't have the time.

Clearly, she lied despite the acid in her voice.

She did stop.

Stopped and came back.

For him.