Private The Line Not Crossed

[Malcoma Hesse]

In the time that it took Ariadne to arrive, Mal pulled a cigarette and a lighter out of a band strapped around her thigh. She didn't need nicotine for the nerves, but it did fill the time.

When the assassin did make its almost-entrance, Mal tapped her fingernails in crescendo on the tabletop. She did not turn in her seat as she replied to the droid.

"The only thing that's changed is with whom you are dealing." She flicked some ashes to the far side of the table, where the booth connected with a half-wall. "Your previous employers might not have cared much for privacy."

She glanced over to Onique without moving her head so that Ariadne wouldn't be able to tell. "The same apparently applies to Onique. She's lucky that I find a certain diversity of operation desirable."

Mal looked back to the wooden panel ahead of her and paused a moment to inhale, then exhale, another puff of smoke. "If you find my hospitality unacceptable, I suppose you can do without the rest of your payment. After all, I don't really need that ledger." Though it would make cleaning up Dara's mess a lot simpler.

"I just like collecting trophies." Not untrue. Something could periodically be practical and unnecessary at once.

Ariadne

 

[Ariadne]

Ariadne stood, hips askance, in the midst of the room. Her head did not move but eyes flicked between Onique and the elder woman. “So. You are Malcoma Hesse.”

If the situation wasn’t so precarious, especially monetarily, Ariadne would likely have offered Onique some unveiled threat should she be lied to again. Now was not the time. Instead, Onique was given a look that was soft and inviting, as if to say there were delights in store should she venture.

”I am no trophy,” Ariadne said, as she slid into the seat opposite her client, “I am an asset.”

Her eyes locked on the older woman. Clearly she was a woman of means. One that was on he tail end of her years of natural beauty. Gravity was tugging at the corners of her mouth and eyes. No amount of treatments would completely remove the deep wrinkles that were beginning to form in her forehead. Still, it was a level of mature beauty that Ariadne would never attained, being stuck in a place of pretty innocence.

”What do you wish to discuss?”

| Malcoma Hesse |​

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

Mal clicked her tongue against her teeth. She had meant that the ledger would have been the trophy, but she made a point of seldomly correcting small misunderstandings. At the negotiation table, it seemed a bit like groveling for approval, which wasn't powerful, and was likewise beneath her.

She snuffed her cigarette out on the tabletop as Ariadne joined her in the booth. "I wish to discuss your future. Onique tells me that you used to work for an organization that seems to no longer want anything to do with you..." She glanced up at the droid to watch the archway behind her. "And as you say, I see that you're an asset."

Ariadne

 

[Ariadne]

She wasn’t fast enough.

Pain receptors shot an alert just she began to twist away from her seat. It was too late. The tip of the green blade had made it all the way out of the middle of her chest. Her twisting action made matters worse as her unseen assailant moved their weapon downwards. The movement combined with her own only served to sever her torso nearly in two.

Her upper torso slipped forward, while the lower fell back against her seat. The few wires that connected both halves served to push Ariadne into a face plant against the table before slowly rolling to the side.

There wasn’t enough connection to the lower half to coax any movement. Instead, all she could do was initiate her back up routines to save what would be her consciousness to the removable drive inbedded in her lower spine.

”You. Don’t appear. Surprised…”

[SHUT DOWN COMMENCING]

| Malcoma Hesse |​

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

It was done.

But there was no sense of relief. No sense of pleasure or joy that washed over him.

Instead, Brandyn felt hollow.

Perhaps it was that he knew that this assassin was only the tool used in his parent’s murder. Their real killers were still a large. Still, he expected some catharsis from stage one of his revenge.

There was nothing.

The Jedi stepped out from the room from which he had killed the droid. His lightsaber was still active, a clear sign that his mind was not on the present.

Any voices would go unheeded as he looked over the limp form of the human looking droid. The lack of humanity was now fully revealed. Just wires and servos with a layer of padding and synth skin.

His blade rose to strike again. This time taking head from torso, and slicing through the table. Ne’er a concern was given to the nearby Hesse who had all but faded into the clouded mind of a Jedi midst a dalliance with darkness.

| Malcoma Hesse |
[ fyi, Briana Sal-Soren Cybelle Elyance Blaire Sal-Soren Bastila Sal-Soren ]​

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

It unnerved Malcoma Hesse from the blade's first penetration of the HRD, the feeling then growing with every second. Brandyn's assault had a similar result on Onique, who put her hand on the hilt of her vibroblade when Ariadne was split in two. Mal saw the echani's motion from the corner of her eye and motioned for the younger woman to stop. Her desire held even as he emerged from the kitchen, still prepared to continue the fight that he had already won, until he struck the droid once more.

This time, Onique began to draw the blade.

"No!" Mal called to her from where she was pushed up against her side of the booth, trying desperately not to appear scared and, more importantly, stay out of the radius of flying plasma sparks. "Go."

Onique stayed her hand but didn't otherwise move, worried eyes glued to the lightsaber.

The crime mother scooted forward to emphasize her word as she repeated, "Go."

This time, Onique did run towards the club's entrance. Mal turned her torso to watch her flee. After Onique disappeared down the entry hall, Mal recoiled back against the leather cushion hung on the side of the booth with a sharp hiss. Her hand gravitated to her left cheek, where a flying ember had burned a small but irregular circle on the surface of her skin.

Brandyn Sal-Soren

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

He was breathing as if he had just run a marathon. His head felt light. His step backward away from the droid’s dismembered form turned into something more resembling a stumble. The temporary sensation of falling snapped his mind back to reality, and his eyes shot Hesse a glance.

The back of his hand swept across his forehead, wiping away some sweat. He wanted to scream at the lifeless form. But his better nature was kicking in…finally. He turned off his blade.

”There,” he said, still panting.

“Job done,” he said, trying to regather his business-as-usual demeanor from before.

“I will cover the cost of any damage I have caused.” He pulled some chits from his pocket and laid them on the table beside the droid. “You can keep her for spare parts…”

| Malcoma Hesse |​

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

What damage did he mean: the burn marks on the booth or the medical fees for fixing her own? She doubted that the amount he put on the table would cover one of the offences, let alone both, nor the cost of repairs to the HRD. Mal knew better than to bite the hand that provided her with free credits even if it had just put her in a severe degree of danger.

She didn't even look at the chits; she only glared at Brandyn. "A pleasure to help," she said coolly, though not quite sarcastically. He might not have wanted to confirm or deny that he was a Jedi—and maybe he really wasn't—but the alternatives Mal cared for even less. A fallen Jedi, a Sith, or a lightsaber thief all disturbed the headmistress in their own ways. She was not one to pick sides on Force philosophy, but she did recognize that it was better for non-Sensitives to deal with the Jedi rather than the other options. Sure, the Jedi weren't friends of criminality, but potential arrest was better than slavery or death, both fates that, when compelled by a Force-user, anyone ungifted or armed by mundane means could very rarely hope to resist.

"Now," she began before she stood out of the booth. If he hadn't stumbled backwards, she would have invaded his personal space. Still, her posture and expression might have been intimidating enough. The way she spoke slowly and with careful enunciation, her face screwed up like a cornered animal with each syllable. "Kindly feth off."

Brandyn Sal-Soren

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

Brandyn had burned some bridges today. It was worth it though. Oh, was it ever worth it. He would burn every bridge in the galaxy just to see The New Way and all its cohorts tumble head long into perdition itself. The feeling, the need, for revenge had not been sated. No. It had coalesced into a lust for revenge. Not just for The New Way, but the Sith too. Images flashed into his mind of two people, Darth Wallgof and Velda Nar-Donna .

He shook his head. No. Velda was no Sith. His dreams had simply placed her face over that of the form of the dark woman from Exegol. It was likely something to do with his guilt at the latent feelings he still held for Velda. Not feelings of love, or even longing. Was it guilt? Regret? Whatever it was, it was tainting his dreams.

”I was just leaving,” Brandyn said calming. His breathing slowly coming under control.

Hooking his saber hilt back under his coat. Brandyn tipped his head. “If you are ever around Naboo…” He started saying, but the expression of the mobster said she was not in the mood for pleasantries. Brandyn turned and made his way to the door.

| Malcoma Hesse |​

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

On her way to exit the booth, she swiped up the credit chits.

"Good," she responded to his first, full statement. She led the way from the club without further comment, shielding her eyes with one hand as they came out from under the long street awning.

"Mal!" Onique turned from speaking to Damris a few meters away. Her gaze slid from her to Brandyn trailing behind, his presence causing the echani to hesitate.

Mal quickened her pace towards her instead. She opened her arms and Onique moved the last few steps into her embrace. Damris first, watched on, then glared back to Brandyn with crossed arms.

"I'm so sorry. I just wanted to show you that I won't leave like Iayn."

"Hush now," Mal replied gently. "It's alright."

"I didn't mean to—"

"It was not your fault."

Brandyn Sal-Soren

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

As Brandyn departed, he caught just the faintest whisper of the words that passed between Hesse and Onique. Iayn. Despite his emotionally riled state, Brandyn felt himself pause for a half step. The glare of the bodyguard caused Brandyn to pick up his pace.

He stored the name away. A possible, but unlikely connection with a woman he had meet some time ago on Naboo. A friend? No. Barely an acquaintance. The one called Iayn Dystraay was probably not related to this mob family, but the name was uncommon. Uncommon enough to think that the Force might yet be at work in this situation.

But then. It was probably nothing.

| Malcoma Hesse |​

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

---

Mal spent the weeks after the unlikely encounter holed up in one of her safe houses in the underlevels, watching over an ugnaught worker as he worked on the body of Ariadne. He wasn't only trusted by The Family but was one of the best droid repairers in the mob's employ. Damris and some of the Guests had spent the same amount of time tracking down any HRD replacement parts that he needed.

"It looks like she's coming back together," Mal commented one day.

The ugnaught nodded, still stitching together synthflesh in a way that it would be hard to tell that the pieces were separate. They had been color matched precisely. "Slowly but surely, Headmistress."

"Mm, I don't rush perfection, Theriki."

He finally stopped, holding the needle taught, and looked over his shoulder at her. "You haven't told me yet if you want to wipe her memory."

Mal pursed her lips. "No. Leave her mind alone." That option was potentially dangerous, but Mal could always have her reprogrammed later if need be. As much was an art. It was especially hard to erase one particular block of memory while leaving the rest intact, and Mal wanted Ariadne to retain her combat prowess. Like the droid herself had said, she was an asset, but she was also a trophy now.

Theriki nodded again. "I could power her up, if you'd like." She wasn't ready to move, as only one of her arms were connected up to her newly-rigged internal electronics, but it might be a good idea to start getting her used to her surroundings.

"Do it," said Mal after crossing her arms and watching him jump down from the table he'd been working on, waddle over to a dashboard that showed Ariadne's mechanical vitals, and throw the power switch.

With that, the almost-woman sparked to life. Her eyes first twitched below the lids, then they opened.