The Lines Which Divide Us

[Cen Tessek]

​

What is the concept of division? It is the lines that divide us, lines so blurred that we often desire segregation, primarily in the universal form of good and evil. But to many of us whose perception is drawn into reality, the truth is not so clear. It is never so simple to chop away at the action, to inspect the motivation and intent, and to declare via moral code whether or not the person was good or was bad. So we bind ourselves to the moral laws, lest anarchy reign supreme, and divide ourselves across lines of battle, through imaginary social circles, and turn the entirety of our lives into a game of thrones situated atop the broken bones of the "expendables." To those normal folk, these are the crippled and lame, but to those with true power, those who wielded the powers of the Force, the normal folk were the expendables, the sheep and fodder. This is Cen's philosophy.

Cen, when under his guise of normality, with lightsabre hidden and cloak traded for jacket, he was what would be called scum. He did what he needed to do to survive; he left his young son behind for a life of adventure on behalf of his late lover and has killed many, many people to come as far as he had. Scum. He was driven through a dark path for power, through the process to achieve what he wanted, and through sacrifices, he succeeds. Just like the scum he is. What he did what these things, no one knows. He was scum. He fell into manic fits of depression as he mulled over the regret of his son, whome he imagined tearful and forgotten, parsecs upon parsecs away. But no one knew this, he was just scum. Whatever his goals, whatever his choices, whatever his consequences, in the eyes of the unknowing, he was indeed just scum.

These were the thoughts Cen mulled over as his repulsorlift taxi shuttered and soared far above the desolate reaches of Coruscant's underbelly. It jittered and pumped a hefty anti gravity field so rickety it seemed a miracle to Tessek the thing managed to stay afloat at all over the sea of ghettos and brothels below. The driver, a greasy droid of unknown make with a rather charming beret cap and a quirk accent, had begun an early descent at a fuel station below. "Eh, juh gimme a momeh, wooja? I gatta fill up da tank in a moe," barked the mechanized cabbie as they landed and the engined sputtered a smoky huff and puff in reply.

Cen simply lounged nonchalantly with legs crossed and arms splayed across the three seat back of the cab, lest some other denizen of this dark below attempt to share it with him. He was content to be alone, for now he was not just scum, he was scum on a mission. It was time for action and following some incredibly close counters with the random and less-than-friendly members of the criminal otherworld and otherwise he had finally stumbled across the single lead he had upon his enemy, Darth Animar. It now he would begin his revenge, his counterattack, and now, for the first time in what could easily have been weeks, months even, he was to ascend to Coruscant's surface and depart in search of the mysterious benefactor of his opponent, known as Palestro Ghees.

[member="Xavka Duquo"]

 

[Xevek Nekonis]

How often had he been in this situation? The hunter poised to lead an assault on the unsuspecting prey that continued on about its normal life, unknowing of the shadow of Vysh that lurked behind them, stalking them just as the predator did. How often though had he been in this situation, where the hunter and prey were both sentient? Where the prey had families and lives and jobs and dreams? It was more often than he would prefer, but he did his job and did it well. He had limits though, lines he would never cross, lines that had no consequence with this hunt. His employer had informed him about his target, how he was a slaver, a rapist, someone who he would be glad to drive a blade into. Yes, Cen Tessek was someone Xavka could easily kill with moral difficulty.

Xavka had been approached by Palestro Ghees, a rich fat cat who control a big business on the surface world of Coruscant. The hit had been placed by the grief stricken man after a young girl he had taken in and cared for had been the target of the scum the Zabrak was tracking. She had been found in the lower levels, body defiled and mutilated with a calling card etched into her back as well as a threat against Ghees. When he had heard the report behind the hit, Xavka had gladdy taken the job. After all, scum like Tessek didn't deserved to live.

That had led to Xavka being perched in the shadows of a building, his dark clothing helping him blend. Behind was a Swoop Bike, off and leant against the wall. He had been using the Bike to follow the taxi Tessek was currently sitting in. In front of Xavka was a tripod, set up, and resting on top of the tripod was a pair of binoculars. The Zabrak was currently using the binoculars to observe Tessek. He hated that he was not allowed to move yet, but Ghees had ordered the Tessek be captured and taken to a drop point, Xavka was not to kill him. For Xavka to act now would be for him to kill his prey or potentially harm innocent bystanders, he would not allow that to happen.


[member="Cen Tessek"]

 

[Cen Tessek]

[member="Xavka Duquo"]

Darth Animar. That was a name that sung weeping shivers down Cen's spine. It was the name of his personal devil, a monster hammered and smithed of hellfire and banished to the infinite breadth of the Galaxy to terrorize its denizens, particularly him. It was a clever beast of durasteel, one that used the One Sith's influence to culture a web of informants, then snipped them clean from empire's sway, effectively building his own faction within the faction in secret, known only to Cen as the Xa'kan. From this point, he used his secret order to obtain possession over the mysterious datachip, a chip of unknown origin containing the dark schematics of theoretical, prototypical doomsday devices for his own ends.

It was at this moment, subsequent Cen Tessek and Usa'ar Obath's defeat by his hands, he had vanished. Only through the prolonged hunts within the underbellies of Coruscant had Cen slowly pieced together this story, and with the assistance of a secret informant he had earned his first true lead. A servant girl, Ka Shune, had contacted him in private, aware by some means of his inquires towards the Xa'kan. She had led him to believe her master, the lecherous pig Palestro Ghees, had known connections among its roster and, in a bold move to betray him to what she had thought, at the time, was a rival businessman's lackey, had urged him to seek him out within the Animus, his private Sorosub Luxury Yacht orbiting far above Coruscant's atmosphere. Three days following her contact, Ka had fallen silent.

Cen adjusted himself lightly as the cabbie returned, grumbling and mumbling about the monotonous, daily routine. "Bucka ya self up reel tight naw," he commanded in his robotic, peculiar tone. It was an order Cen followed with heavy reluctance, and as the bumbling cap soon rose steadily into the air, with some minor struggle, Cen felt the oddest tingle spark across the back of his neck. It was the unmistakable prickle one felt when being watched, but as he swiveled his head to eye the darkness of the distant buildings, he saw nothing, and with that his fears were alleviated. "Smooth sailing for once," he concluded peacefully.

 

[Xevek Nekonis]

As his yellow eyes watched the taxi pull out of its docking, Xavka set about packing up his equipment. The tripod was folded up and placed, alongside the binoculars, in a bag strapped to the side of the Swoop Bike. Before he set off he removed three objects from the bag. The first was a blaster pistol, which was placed on the ground. The second was an explosive charge which he primed after sticking it to the undercarriage of the bike. The last item was the detonator for the explosives, that was placed in his pocket. Picking up the blaster pistol, Xavka got on the bike and was soon in pursuit of the Taxi.

He followed them carefully, never staying a set distance behind or in the same lane. He would shift through them regularly and randomly, after all a Bike following at the same distance for however long was more obvious and worrying than a Bike that just so happened to be going in the same direct or even the same place as you.

Soon they started to ascend through the sky, heading towards the upper districts of Coruscant. It was when the Taxi reached the area between the Upper traffic and Lower traffic the Xavka struck. Bringing the Blaster up to bare he aimed it at the droid piloting the taxi. When quick shot later an the droid was missing a part of its head and Xavka had stowed the gun away in the bag on he side of the Bike.


[member="Cen Tessek"]

 

[Cen Tessek]

[member="Xavka Duquo"]

There was a sharp bang and a wall of white sparks, unleashing the roar of ringing that plundered his eardrums and blinded his eyes. Then came the sudden rush of tugging wind and the jerking of motion that signaled his unwanted descent, forcing his eyes open to witness the craft spinning wildly out of control back to the fuel dock below. The cabbie, bless his tin man heart, had a good chunk of his head torn open, the metal coating peeling back to expose a crater of burnt wire, steam-spewing hydraulic lines, and various sparking software chips. There was no time to bother with the attacker, for if the taxi were to slam into traffic, Cen would not have time to blink before he was pummeled by the wall of urban-trained drivers with the cruelty streak of Darth Sideous. They would probably try to hit him.

He lurched forward, fighting the bite of the cold city wind, and attempted to grip the stabilizer level, intending the shift the vessel out of gear and halt its descent. But the seatbelt held him back and when the second burst of sparks came he was startled, instinctively commencing a premature retreat to the back of the cab. By the time he had realized the mistake, it was too late for a vain redemption through his second attempt, and the speeder crashed into the side of the building, scraping along its edge before collapsing upon an outstretched Yacht-class platform, cracking the suspenders and igniting the engine as it plowed into pad on its side. The engine emitter erupted, blasting the fuel station with a brief blast of fiery fusion energy that assaulted the station with a wall of shrapnel, which shredded open the tanks of fuel and began to flood the platform.

Cen had effectively slammed his head against the rear passenger dashboard in a buckled thrust of continued inertia and was enjoying himself a nice little nap through the quick K.O. However, the dock suspenders only shuttered and collapsed further in response, bending the extended landing pad a further deep, few degrees, and granting the pool of fuel a nice descent to flow in a river of brown vessel petrol towards the flaming cabbie craft. There would be a minute at the most before the following eruption would obliterate the the upper echelons of the station and Cen along with it.

 

[Xevek Nekonis]

He couldn't help but raise a brow at the destruction and potential destruction his one shot had caused. Sure, he had expected the Taxi to spin out, for there to be no one to control it and for it to crash. But he certainly hadn't expected the components for a fire ball to be at the same place all due to said shot. He certainly hadn't expected the potential blessing that the oncoming disaster was. He had planned to cause the Bike and all of his equipment to explode with the explosives he had brought, destroying evidence that would show his presence on this world. The situation would of drawn an investigation, but he would have time to leave. Now though, he chuckled as he brought the Bike to a stop a short distance from the down craft, he had no need to do so and this way was more likely to succeed.

Whistling he bent down to remove the explosives from the Bike before disarming it. Reaching into the bag on the Bike he withdrew a ball of fabric which he straightened out to reveal a smaller bag. He dropped the explosive inside before removing some rope. Still whistling he walked over to the Taxi. Reaching his mark, he slapped the Chiss a few time to see if he was truly unconscious before punching him in the gut twice for good luck.

Hoisting the man onto his shoulders he carried Tessek over to the Bike, he lay him across the seat before tying Tessek's feet together and hand behind his back then wrapped a length of rope around his neck which was then tied around the rope securing him tightly. That done Xavka placed the bag containing the explosives in his pocket, gave a salute to the droid before taking a running leap off the platform.

As he fell towards the ground with his mark on his shoulder while an explosion echoed behind him and warmed his back, Xavka removed a knife from his belt and, after imbuing the blade with the Force, drove it into one of the many buildings. He slowly lowered the amount of Force being channelled into the blade which slowly decreased it cutting power which lowered the speed of the hunter and his prey's decent bit by bit until, a few meters of the ground, they stopped. Letting go Xavka dropped to the ground.

Brushing himself off, Xavka made his way out into the streets of Curoscant, following a map he had memorised before the mission. Heading towards the drop point, an old warehouse.


[member="Cen Tessek"]

 

[Cen Tessek]

[member="Xavka Duquo"]

There is a special sense you obtain when you go unconscious. The type of "unconsciousness" varies, naturally; it could be as simple as going to sleep or as very, very unfortunate as having your taxi shot down by assassins. It is a fascinating experience to note that what you bury will be interpreted in the physical sense that it is truly submerged deep inside your conscious and, when you dream in your states of unconsciousness, you will sink in the quicksand of feverish nightmare and be drawn into the black hells of your mind that you have indeed created.

There is a special manifestation to the phantom of regret, which Cen had learned over the course of his nightmares. It stood out among the rest, the blackness, the overwhelming physical creation of dread. It was a boy, his son, Gald Tessek, a wispy white silhouette that failed to meld against the black backdrop. He was his hope, his light. Yet, the dream did nothing; it never hurt him directly, all Cen had to do was watch him, to be with him, and the dream would never swallow him. However, in every single instance, Cen turned away, and when he rushed back, realizing his mistake, his son would be gone forever.

Regret was a clever beast, it never strikes directly and lavishes upon your pain; it only strings you along, compiling the further weight of your throes until your back snaps and splints. But its fruit is so sweet and you must follow, thus you would only grind yourself to dust evermore. Regret was not a ghost, nor a demon, nor a monster, its cruelty could only be derived as sentient; it was a social creature with the mind that acted no as a hunter, but as prey, leading you out into the shadow of doubt before the torture.

It was as if it acted not as your tormentor, but as your executioner, passing along the divine judgement and punishment for your sins. Cen found the oddest comfort in that. He felt such a warm presence in his chest, which otherwise would be completely absent, in that he deserved this. Perhaps his son would derive pleasure from his grief and maybe, just maybe, it would be enough to help him overcome his own sense of despair as well.

That was when Cen awoke to darkness and the smell of musky spice. He sat in the chair, gazing at the air which hung thick with a cloud of dust and the stars of fresh consciousness that peppered his vision. He was in a chair, too weak to discern if he was bound. Every movement launched a wave of raging shivers across his body, rendering him disabled. As the darkness stretched about him, to what he thought would be infinite, he had accepted that now, once and for all, he had fallen into Hell. He called out in his guttural, half-conscious tone to the darkness, certain that the Devil himself would answer, "Am I dead?"

 

[Xevek Nekonis]

"I wish you were"

The answer to the Chiss's question was answered quickly and bluntly as a droll voice drawled it out. Xavka stepped out of the shadows, swords out and trailing behind him, creating a shower of sparks to accompany the ringing shriek that echoes in the vast and empty build. Also dragging behind the Zabrak was a metal, dusty chair that only added to the horrible ringing within the warehouse. With a clatter the chair span around so that it was facing Cen, the chair was soon filled by the body of Xavka, but not before his blade caught the Chiss's leg.

Placing his sword on his lap and leaning back, Xavka ran both hands through his hair, carefully avoiding his Orat (horns). As he did so he, in a subtle manner, removed the ear plugs he had placed in his ears just after his reply to Cen's question. Leaning back casually and crossing his hands behind his head, the movement being used to throw the earplugs into the shadows, Xavka let his lopsided smirk cross his face. His lips peeled back to reveal pointed, slightly bloodstained teeth, while the shape of his mouth twisted the scars on his face. His yellow eyes, one sharp and seeing one dull and blind, stared intently at the man before him.

"Hello, scum. Not to uncomfortable are you?"

[member="Cen Tessek"]

 

[Cen Tessek]

[member="Xavka Duquo"]

"I wish you were"

This would perhaps be the first encounter with a zabrak Cen would ever have and the visage of his horns and scarred form initially confirmed the presence of the Devil before him. Then the words themselves had sunken in and Cen, as confused as ever, exhaled his nervousness in a dull, heavy respire. The darkness that swallowed them would have only been illuminated by the flash of raging sparks drawn behind the man as he trod into the circle of limelight. Each biting flash of grinding light that showered up and upon the scenery from the metallic ground granted brief visages of adjacent crates and packages of unknown origins. From Cen's initial sensation of pungent, non-narcotic spice, he gathered that he must be in a warehouse of sorts.

He became aware of the chair planted firmly before him, as he was previously distracted by his observations, and watched as the man went to sit upon it. Then his blade swung out and dug a shallow bite directly into his shin, drawing a thin layer of blood that stretched along the exterior slash of the cut and followed the trailing blade in thin strands before splattering softly atop the dark floor below. There was no major damage, but in all likelihood the cut would scar in these conditions and now, with the burning pain seeping in, it would be unlikely that would be the least of his worries. Such frustration conjured by the light pain only boiled in the vats of hatred, formed of black iron and cast deep into the chiss' heart, and now, as his captor sat in the chair with such a very sick sense of nonchalant justification, running those hands of his through his hair, Cen felt damn near prepared to unleash some unbidden strength and tear his damn head off.

But whether or not the lightsabre had been discovered, lodged deep within his concealed pocket beneath his jacket, would determine the outcome of this endeavor

He watched the man at first, perceiving his actions in complete silence. How he acted subtle, with that snobbish precision, like how he tossed his ear plugs into the dark, infuriated Cen. Was that supposed to be intimidating? Perhaps, but would not that just leave loose ends, for if he was to kill Cen in the warehouse it would simply provide an addition clue to investigators. He would not be able to escape, either; the district would be locked down at that point. Maybe he was just cocky or perchance he simply intended to clean it all up afterwards, including Tessek's body, in a professional manner. Yet, he had not killed him so far. Possibly, his intentions lied in torture. "Or," contemplated Cen in silence, "He does not intend to kill me at all... at least not yet." He was still physically weak, incapable of freeing himself or even mustering the strength to glance down and check if he still claimed his weapon, but regardless, now he would plan for his escape.

"Hello, scum. Not to uncomfortable are you?"

Cen prayed to whatever gods he could think of for a monologue. If this would birth a conversation he planned to use it in order to buy time. "No, not horribly so but the wound was a bit excessive, however. Couldn't you -- I don't know -- be a bit more original? What the hell are you? An action hero? Is the fuel station up in flames by now? You communist, think of the economy! How many livelihoods have your ruined by now? What if they didn't have insurance?" His eyes ran along the scenery, and even with his excellent night vision the brightness of the surrounding light inhibited his vision. He needed to turn that off. He continued his vehement retort, "SCUM? I tell you what I think about that! We live on a planet of SITH OVERLORDS and you hunt down travelers, killed a taxi driver, and probably blew up a fuel station. And I AM the scum? Talk about hypocrisy! Are you Sith by chance? That might explain it!"

 

[Xevek Nekonis]

Xavka watched in amusement as the man jumped into a monologue. A common tactic, he supposed, that would be used by someone who was trying to buy time. Who thought his death was imminent and was desperately working on staying alive. Or someone who needed the extra chance to put a formulated, on-the-spot escape plan into action. Or even someone who hoped to build a relationship with his capture, to make the capture want to keep him alive. Tessek could potentially fall into any of those categories, requiring Xavka to know have to be careful in every little thing he did and keep away from Tessek. But then, he was bored an this would keep entertained.

"You know, you're right. This," he swept his hand around at the shadows the surrounded the pair, "is a bit unoriginal isn't it? I mean the warehouse for one is bad enough. But this? The light shining onto the captive, cloaking the rest of the room in shadows." Xavka paused slightly while nodding his head. "It is a bit much isn't it?" Reaching out through the Force, Xavka directed a tendril of it to approach the electrical box controlling the lighting. Directing the tendril to wrap around the switch, Xavka smirked before the light was extinguished. Less than a second later the tendril had wrapped itself around a different switch and light soon flooded the whole warehouse.

In the new light, the state of the warehouse was revealed to the eyes of anyone who looked. The warehouse was set out simply, two levels with the stairs set into the wall furthest from the the pair. Next to the base of the stairs was the only door. The second level had an open space at the centre of the room, with a second door directly above the first. On both levels there were no signs of any windows. A crane hung down from the ceiling, passing through the hole in the floor of the second level. On both levels numerous metal container were laying haphazardly, abandoned by the previous owners.

Xavka ignored the questions about the fuelling station. He had of cursed checked while waiting for Tessek to wake and for those that had lost money he had deposited some of his own into their accounts, after running a background check. He had no wish to fund a trafficking organisation or drug ring. After all he often gave himself the title of Assassin With Morals. Shacking he head he returned himself to the here and now.

"To answer your last two questions: yes. Yes I am Sith, although I am more grey than dark. And yes. You scum." He spat in Tessek's direction, but ensured he missed. "Oh and, here." He held out a hand and from one of the walls a lightsaber came flying into said hand. He held it up to examine in. "A good quality build, Mr. Tessek." Casually he threw it over his shoulder before catching it in a net of the Force before it could hit the ground. Using the net, he wrapped the lightsaber in the Force and directed it to be set down on the second level, just at the edge of the hole.

[member="Cen Tessek"]

 

[Cen Tessek]

[member="Xavka Duquo"]

"You know, you're right. This," he swept his hand around at the shadows the surrounded the pair, "is a bit unoriginal isn't it? I mean the warehouse for one is bad enough. But this? The light shining onto the captive, cloaking the rest of the room in shadows." Xavka paused to him slightly while nodding his head. "It is a bit much isn't it?"

He was being played with, Cen understood that. He was no longer naive at this point in life; after all, his new life had begun under the pretense of the Ways of Pain. He would remain in control of this situation, as always, and every individual would snap beneath his strategies. It was a simple matter of bestial, animalistic knowledge; Cen must exert dominance over the situation, primarily through confusion. He must sow the seeds of conflict, to win the battle before he makes his first motion. He was already at the superior end, the warehouse and his weapons were now revealed to him and his captor, whom had desired to relax nonchalantly, was beginning to run out of personas and plans within the mind of Cen Tessek.

"To answer your last two questions: yes. Yes I am Sith, although I am more grey than dark. And yes. You scum." He spat in Tessek's direction, but ensured he missed. "Oh and, here." He held out a hand and from one of the walls a lightsaber came flying into said hand. He held it up to examine in. "A good quality build, Mr. Tessek."

The man watched him, prior effectively disarming him, and now waited with even outstretching the offering strands of communication. He had no information he had yet to deem accurate for inquiry nor had he any intentions of killing him yet, so far as Cen could discern. He had no direct dealings with Sith organizations as well, save for the one particular band of assassins, and thus could remove political revenge from the list. He did not know this character either, so he must be a hire-on, for he showed no symbol related to any allied puppet. If that was the case then, his loyalty could be bought for a price perchance, especially if he were Sith. Now Cen only had discern what price that was.

The man, despite his overall vague demeanor and commanding tone, was rather conversationally lenient and thus was kind enough to provide several leads upon his intentions to the keen ear. Primarily, he obviously felt control of the situation with a simple disarmament and bindings that restrained him to the chair, leading Cen to believe he was either terribly cocky or terribly unaware of who he was dealing with. Cen was a simply padawan, yes, as dubbed by his "quality built" lightsabre, but the way the man had strung him up he would have expected him to be dealing with a youngling. Cen had since earned his expertise in his craft, much rather as a shrewd survivor and adversary much less a jedi, but for this the man made no precaution. He was very poorly kept in the know-how of this mission or being lied to, both of which would narrow down the position of Cen's prodding considerably and into the next observation.

He often regarded Cen as scum which, naturally, led Cen to believe there was either a personal stake in the matter or if he held Cen as a criminal. While Cen had certainly angered the Blades and one very, very mean Sith Knight, he had never done direct dealings with his fellow dark siders with the exception of Kezeroth the Beholder and his associates. Thus, if he were to expand upon the trail of being lied to, hinted through the general lack of apprehension the zabrak held, he could conclude that the captor held him under false pretenses. His captor's boss had convinced said captor that Cen was in fact a criminal. That was both excellent and terrifying, for not only had he gained leverage, but if he was being just held, rather than killed, an obviously simpler message, then the zabrak would be undoubtedly pulled into a plot, and if his boss was in league with who he thought he was, it would be unlikely that they both would make it out of this alive alone.

Cen had to begin confirming his suspicions now, lest he waste his time chasing dead ends. Something bad was coming, he could feel it through the Force, a disturbance. He needed to act quickly and through this urgency he practically shouted, "So what exactly do you know about me? Are you one of those Blades? No, they would be a bit more dramatic with crossbows and whatnot, and that's saying something for someone who literally DESTROYED a FUELING STATION. But no, you're still not acting alone, but I don't recognize you. But this is personal business, right? Otherwise, I'd be dead by now, so I'll be straightforward. Who hired you and why?"

[member="Xavka Duquo"]

 

[Xevek Nekonis]

Xavka paced in front of the Chiss as he listened to the man's rant. At the end of it he chuckled slightly while his eyes began to flicker around the room. "I'm not an amateur, mate. Why would I tell you my client's name and the reason for the hit?" His voice was distracted as he hunted for what ever it was that the Force was warning him about. "And don't worry your pretty little head, no one got killed in the fire. I have allies in these areas after all, they made sure of that." He was now no longer even trying to disguise his searching. His body was turned side on to Tessek while his head moved around the room.

Growling as he still couldn't find the reason for the warning, Xavka slipped into the force fully and let the vision come to him. Fire ... Pain ... Burning ... Vengeance ... Hurry!

His eyes snapped open as, at the same time, he created a telekinetic bubble around him and the Chiss. Working as quickly as he could he forced the bubble to form, first creating one layer and compacting it until it only just covered him and the Chiss, then he repeated the process but made the second layer bigger. Again and again he did this, before, using the bubble as a focus, he began to push away from the bubble. All of happened in less than a second. The next, a large explosion rang through the warehouse as set mines triggered.


[member="Cen Tessek"]

 

[Cen Tessek]

[member="Xavka Duquo"]

It was instantaneous, sporadic, and unexpected. There was a brief sensation prior, the trickling quiver that strummed from the unseen unknown before he felt the disturbance cull his fearful doubt. Something was coming and this sensation was a warning, briefly expanding into his consciousness before he called out, "Watch ou-" The zabrak already acted, shielding him beneath a complex, telekinetic bubble of bulbous Force, protecting them both from the immediate explosion that rocked the the city in the midst of a massive wall of flame and uprooted air that swooshed throughout the surrounding blocks.

The vibration of the Force was quickly submerged amidst the tremendous detonation, which drowned the pair in a roar of snarling flame which swallowed the entirety of their visage in hellish light. The heat was soaked beyond the bubble, effectively creating a little crater in time in which they inhabited, the floor still polished beneath the dust and unharmed whilst the rest of the warehouse was engulfed in the breath of Hell. The supports and walls peeled away beneath the massive creak, the roof collapsing only to dispersed in a great cloud of shrapnel as the heat expanded and shredded the metal against the structure's own twisted, steel bones that rose up above the cloud of fire like impaling spears, sparing the pair the collapsing pressure which may have dispersed their protective barrier.

Cen was engulfed in blinding white light and a deafening, thrumming ring which engulfed him in brief nothingness. Then he came to, sitting upon a collapsed chair, for two legs and an arm had snapped clean in his fearful struggle before the breadth of death, sailing beyond the brink of his protection, and now he found himself laying on the floor, with his hands and feet shackled together by small cuffs of nameless composition. The blackened iron gore that composed the remainder, forming a sea of hot, flaming metal, oils, and spice-sludge, flowed about the massive crags of twisted beams and rebar, crawling up from the molten ocean of sulfur-stenched substance, creating an eery graveyard of wrought-iron skeletons,

The smoldering mud-like substance that composed the sea of mixed metals began to flow into their depression, the clean for lined by waist-high walls of destroyed architecture, washing over them a wave of nearly unbearable heat. They slowly trickled into their sunken circle like cold molasses, drizzling into the edges before slowly lurching in long creeks of fiery iron and steel towards the pair, and in particular, the one, tied up, and laying face down, within mere feet of having his face melted off. "Well," he began in unusual calmness, his voice spun in a drawl monotone before levitating into a shrill, furious height, "Thank YOU so MUCH for dragging me, against my will, for no reason, to a building set to blow, then saving us from that. Now, why don't you stop prancing about like some justice-loving vigilante and uncuff me? Maybe give me my 'quality-build' lightsabre? Huh? Oh, or are you just going to sit there?"

 

[Xevek Nekonis]

Xavka growled as the heat wave passed over the pair, but paid that no mind. He growled as the shrapnel flew past, skirting around the protective barrier he had erected moments before the explosion, but paid that no mind. He growled as the flames licked at the boundary like imitations of Hell brought into the living world, attempting to devour everything in their wake and reduce it to carbon remains, but paid that no mind. No, he growled as the battering pressure wave resulting from the explosion, pushed against the protective bubble he had erected, wearing away at his strength but by bit over the span of less than a millisecond while he fought to stay his ground, to stand strong and maintain his status of living.

Time slowed as the pressure waved slowly passed him while, simultaneously, speeding through the warehouse. At the very last second, Xavka found the strength he was trying to summon abandon him and his shield began to collapse. His mind went white as his yellow eyes widened in primal fear as Vysh's grasp, the reach of the afterlife, came closer than it ever had before. In some sort of long buried, primal instinct Xavka through his hands forwards as if to hold of the oncoming vision of Hell and screamed. The influx of such powerful emotion bolstered the slowly retreating protective bubble, halting it in its place and slowly building up its strength again, but it came to late. That scream of primal fear and desperation turned into a howl of excruciating pain as his slowed senses witnessed his left arm be trapped outside of the barrier. He felt his skin peel away into ashes as muscles withered and died before they too were peeled away. Blood boiled and hissed into steam as bit by bit over less time than it took to blink the high yield explosives destroyed the left arm of Xavka Duquo, Jath of Ru Uiging.

At the back of his mind he registered the warehouse collapsing around him and Tessek and the instinctive need to live helped him to maintain the barrier he had erected. He registered the smell of melted slag and burnt spice. He registered the feel of blistering heat as it licked at his tanned skin like a reminder of the sun of Iridonaia. He registered the ringing in his ears as the resounding explosion continued to echo around his head. He registered the sight of the collapsed building, of pillars of steel reaching into the air as the gradually melted, like a deformed Kryat Dragon's rib cage. He registered the taste of burning, the acrid flavour of smoke tantalising his taste buds in a sickening way. He registered it all, but only subconsciously as at that moment pain overwhelmed his mind, rendering all thought impossible.

Xavka collapsed to the ground in heap, isolated at the centre of a crator with the exception of his captive Cen Tessek. As his mind slowly began to recover, a second realisation threatened to send the Zabrak spiralling back into the white noise that had occupied his mind. His Zhabako, a weapon all Iridonain Zabrak forged upon coming of age, was destroyed and he could not recreate it as it had been outside of the Force Barrier and would been destroyed, melted and flowed to mix with the molten slag that was filling the cracks the explosion had caused.

Among his Ru, his Clan, their was a tradition that only one Zhabako could ever be wielded. If it was damaged it was re-forged, if it was broken it was re-forged, if it was melted, then as long as the correct metal could be recovered, it would be re-forged. The same weapon remade numerous time, using the same metal. If it was truly lost, then the Zabrak could no long use a Zhabako, they had to forge a new weapon. There was no discrimination against those that lost their Zhabako, but it was still devastating to loose the first weapon he had ever wielded.

He stirred from his oncoming depression though as the voice of the Chiss he had taken captive invaded the ringing of his ears. Still in shock from his lose of Zhabako and arm, Xavka absentmindedly reached out his remaining arm and, using the Force, picked Cen up from where he lay and held him in the air while the cuffs on his person unlocked with a click and fell into the molten mix seeping into the crater as he used telekinesis to move the tumblers within the locks. Still holding Cen in the air, Xavka registered the on coming danger and leapt into the air, aiming to clear the range of damage after imbuing his muscles with the Force.

Landing heavily, Xavka collapsed to the floor of a second warehouse's roof, letting the Chiss drop with him. He sat there in shock before he started to recover and pure rage began to roll through him. Turning and picked Cen up by his throat. "The only person who knew the importance of that place was Palestro Ghees! Now, I know I've never had any interaction with him or any of his acquaintances, so that leaves you! I've lost my Zhabako, my arm," Xavka held up his, thankfully, cauterised stump, "and I want an explanation! So start talking, Blue Boy, and maybe I'll decide to spare you!"

[member="Cen Tessek"]

 

[Cen Tessek]

Cen gurgled in exhaustion, levitating into the air against his very, very apparent desire, and found that he was floating away from the ground, perhaps to distant worlds beyond in death. It was awfully calm, initially, and he found himself steadily growing at peace with is surprising flight, almost engulfed in the warm fuzzy feeling of completeness before the zabrak dropped him off onto the second story flight. Cen Tessek crashed face first onto the scorched metal floor, groaning with frustration as he rolled onto his back with the weighted movements of a beached whale. “Dammit,” he groaned, flinging a fist at the air to punch away whatever ethereal angel who cursed his descent with their butterfingers.

"The only person who knew the importance of that place was Palestro Ghees! Now, I know I've never had any interaction with him or any of his acquaintances, so that leaves you! I've lost my Zhabako, my arm," Xavka held up his, thankfully, cauterised stump, "and I want an explanation! So start talking, Blue Boy, and maybe I'll decide to spare you!"

The chiss blinked into a state of relative sobriety, only half drunk on a mixture of ecstasy in survival and frustration in face planting, and rolled onto his side, facing [member="Xavka Duquo"] in all of his glory. He was not feeling the least bit charitable today, following the attack, the kidnapping, the briefest torture session in the history of the universe, and then the explosion to which he found himself verging on partial deafness. No, he was not feeling charitable at all. “Oh, your fething Zhabako? Oh my Force, I am SO sorry that you lost your damn sword! How about mine, did you lose that too?” shouted a frustrated Cen whose sheer rage peppered his forehead with bulging veins. “Of course, your arm too! How could I forget!”

Disoriented, Cen propped himself upright against his palms, sitting on his bottom and stretching a stiffened back, whose spine cracked with vicious thunder. “Ugh, spare me? Good lord, my friendly zabrak you have certainly crossed the line for sure. You don’t even look into who you work for, you freaking credit whore, and now look at what you’ve done to yourself. I…” Cen gave up, collapsing onto his back with a thud and drum of the steel flooring beneath. “Whatever. Ghees in a fraudulent stockbroker whose financing a rebellious Sith Lord, goes by the name of Animar, and it’s him I happen to be hunting. He’s a murderer and a scoundrel, and now he’s been betrayed by his allies, providing the single window I’m ever going to have at capturing him. Well the single window I ever was going to have, until you showed up and kidnapped me!”

Cen had now snaked onto his belly, attempting to push himself off the ground with the sheer power of his biceps, yet the energy to do so evaded him. He exhaled in further frustration and continued, slowly, “Ghees is the only lead on Animar, the only associate that is ever going to talk and now he’s about to get away. He’s afraid we’ll be loose ends to finding him though, that’s why he attacked both of us, tried to have us killed. If we don’t stop him though, Animar is going to do something bad, I don’t know what, but it begins that chip of his -- my chip -- and that’s already bad news, especially for both of us.” That is when his strength returned, his body slowly rising, bruised and battered, supported by a cut leg, and flexed his sore body. “So if you want to make it out of this, remaining out of those pretty little crosshairs you’ve jumped right smack-dab into with all the gleeful ignorance in the world, Mr. Uno Armo, you better hike those crippled shebs of yours with me to the starport, because we got a neimoidian to catch.”

 

[Xevek Nekonis]

Growling lowly at the end of Cen's rant, he reached into his jacket pocket and removed the Chiss's lightsaber. Before throwing it back, Xavka focussed on directing the Force through the muscles in his arm. Fibres were strengthened as the Force wrapped itself around them, securing them from damage. Blood flow sped up as the Force seeped into the veins of the remaining arm of the Zabrak, mixing with the life liquid and assisting it in being carried. through the muscle, providing more oxygen. Throwing his arm forwards with a negligent flick, Xavka to a form of dark satisfaction in ensuring he aimed the metallic hilt for Cen's groin.

Turning his back on the Chis still lying on the ground, Xavka walked over to the edge of the building and stared at the still burning fires that could of been fuelled by the organic components that formed the complicated system that was his body, he stared at the twisted, metal monoliths that, at that moment, continued to melt in the searing heat of the roaring flames that licked at their bases and could of been the markers for his grave, a silent statue to his life which would of eventually faded away to the same fate as his body - consumed by the fires.

Currently, a storm of various emotions rolled within him, fighting for dominance in the mess that was his mind at that moment. He knew that while he was currently functioning perfectly well, that was because he was ignoring the emotions. Once he had time to stop and sit, he would be overwhelmed, there was no ifs or buts about it.

Currently a potent mix of shock, anger, vengeance and pain formed the maelstrom with his gut. Each one was rising and falling in a mocking imitation of the tides of seas. Shock would rise up, freezing him into inaction as it ruled his body and overrode his instincts. Then it would fall and anger would take its place, causing a red mist to cover his vision and urges to just run and run towards where he knew the target would be. However, before he could react on the urges, the anger would fade to a simmer to be replaced by the similar emotion of vengeance, but when that was ruling the anger was dulled and instead wanting to tear the man apart, he know wished to slowly torture him to death, to grant him the pain Xavka himself had narrowly avoided suffering under. Then vengeance would be replaced by pain which would cause his mind to fall into a whole new torrent of emotion as he struggled to not faint dead away. When that emotion fell, the whole cycle began again.

Taking a deep breathe, Xavka settled into a slight medatative state and focussed on shackling that maelstrom, tying them up in the recesses of his psych where he could ignore them until he was willing to face them and rendering himself a emotionless husk at that moment apart from the faint sliver of vengeance that settled into his gut. "I take it you know where Gheese is, then?" Even as he spoke, he did not divert his attention away from the hellish view beneath him. Closing eyes for a quick moment before snapping them open with a renewed fire within their yellow depths, Xavka turned to the man he had held captive just earlier but now had to take on as an ally. "Lead the way!"


[member="Cen Tessek"]

 

[Cen Tessek]

Cen was too busy cupping his bruised balls and rolling about atop the shattered platform to reply at first, groaning unintelligible responses in mumbled tongue as he cursed Xavka a hundred-fold to damnation in Hell. "A gah," he retorted, rolling onto his stomach and gently inchworming upright and hunching, his hands placing relieved pressure over his privates. "I... hate you so much!" Yet through the trials of nut-cracking he indeed acknowledged the situation had most certainly revolved to his favor, and he intended to take full advantage of that. Risen to his feet, still bent forward in suffering, he offered Xavka a tortured gaze and pointed up, with a shaking hand, to the heavens. The textured darkness of the overarching city levels sunk above, casting bleak illuminating from various angles and points of luminescent technology and buildings, built into the underbelly.

"We'll need a ship," he began, toddling over on wobbling legs to the ledge leading off to the burning pits of the inferno, heat radiating off in visible walls of bleaching warmth. "We need to escape before police arrives and get a ship. He's fleeing his partner, Animar, into orbit aboard his yacht, the Animus. If we don't catch him now he's going to vanish, forever." His hand had gripped the haft of his blade, igniting the crimson edge of the sabre for all to see, yet the color was swallowed beneath the scarlet flames that roared above the edge of their safe haven. "We don't have much time, he'll be certain to be moving fast following the attack so we have to go now. Especially considering the fact we're about to be baked on this metal sheet beneath us as the flames keep rising. Got any solutions you future-child killer? Maybe you want to punch the fire in the testicles so it will feth off too?"

[member="Xavka Duquo"]

 

[Xevek Nekonis]

"Hm." Xavka smirked as he turned to face the Chiss. "Good idea." Reaching out through the Force he wrapped his will around the strands of the Force that flowed throughout the entire galaxy. Bending and shifting the strands, Xavka began to gather them into a tangled ball in front of him and above the fire. Slowly he reached out with his hand, the plan faced forwards. He continued to tangle the Force even as sweat beaded on his brow. Using the building energy, Xavka began to gather the air above the tangle into its midst. "I feel like I should have a catch phrase to sat right now." With a twitch of his hand, he forced the knot of the Force to unravel and directed the mass of energy and gathered air downwards before reversing the direction and pulling it straight upwards. The effect of which was the fires flickering as pressure was suddenly force upon them and what remained of the building flattened before the air of the immediate air evacuated its place, causing a vacuum to form, extinguishing the flames, before a loud crack echoed out as air rushed back into the void.

He turned to the blue male beside him, one brow cocked. "Fire's done." That said he leant backwards and allowed himself to fall off of the building, speeding towards the ground. Twisting in midair, Xavka aimed to land on his feet before once again channelling the Force. This time he directed it into himself. Muscle tendons were suddenly imbued with the Force, allowing them to take more damage before breaking. Bones and organs were enveloped in the Force, creating a buffering Force that would absorb impacts.

With a thud, Xavka landed in a crouch, taking no damage while visible Force energy escaped from his body as wisps of smoke. Turning, he looked back up at Cen. "You coming." Turning sharply after his address, Xavka made to run eastward, heading for a back up location he had prepared near by, hoping that the Chiss above would follow him.


[member="Cen Tessek"]