Traitors

[Mia Monroe]

The space station was bustling, packed full of the worst kind of people. Slavers, smugglers and criminals, among them families fleeing the war moved around in tight packs, eyes flashing this way and that stinking of fear. Scavengers and pickpockets trailed behind these groups, hopeful to pick off stragglers. For them, war was good, war meant there pockets were full of con to buy spice and their bellies were full.

They didn't just prey on the fearful, but also the loners, the people who society would miss even less. A loose top covered the swelling of her abdomen, a long coat concealed her bolters, though her beskad rested firmly between her shoulders. She moved with distinct purpose, weaving against the flow of refugees heading for newly docked ships and towards the catina's and supply stores.

Mia caught her tail out of the corner of her eye, obviously drawn by the fact that freeing her beskad in such a busy place risked harming another person. She smirked despite herself. This was a home from home, amidst the sum of the galaxy. Once upon a time this had been all she'd known and all she'd sought, back when things were simpler. She stopped as the crowd thinned out, pretending to be unsure of her next location as her attacker drew nearer.

He was arms length away from her when she reacted with lightening speed, finger closed about the bolter beneath her coat and brought the barrel up to rest gently on the skin between his eyes. Eyes yellowed by spice use widened in fear and he raised his hands slowly in surrender. Mia regarded him with disgust, before jerking her head.

"Beat it." she growled at him, lowering the bolter only when he'd scarpered, slotting it back int its holster and scanning for any others. Sure now she'd made her position clear to any who were considering her as a target, she moved on towards the spaceports trade centre.

[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Malok]

The Space Station was...chaotic.

War between the eastern superpowers had displaced countless families. Fathers were dead. Brothers were dead. And those left behind had their lives in shambles. Thus, just like every titanic clash of nations, refugees attempted to escape. Darth Metus could regard the unfortunate souls here as intelligent, for they fled southward of all directions. It was in this region of space that peace had a fair shot. And that was why the Sith Lord was here - to observe just how many were running away. It was one thing to see numbers on a datapad or to read reports on the HoloNet. It was another to get off one's throne and take a trip into the chaos.

It surpassed all expectations.

While garbed in a simple hoodie and slacks, the Sith Lord did his absolute best to blend into the crowds. His sulfuric gaze swept across the plethora of faces; quietly assessing just how much help these people would need. Some were obviously hurting and lacked proper medical care. Others...well, they looked to be the scum of the earth. Darth Metus made a mental note to add stricter vetting procedures to any relief efforts moving forward. As he continued to stroll ever forward, making his silent observations, a scene unfolded before his eyes. A rat scurried to close to a predator and got a blaster pulled to his face.

Common, especially in a place like this.

Yet.

What gave Darth Metus pause was who had the gun. He...He thought he had buried any and all loyalty to Mandalore. He thought that, by leaving one final time, that confronting any parties involved would be...nonchalant. But. He died. He burned. To this day, his rest was forfeit to visions of the torture. Ash coating his lungs, burning away his breath. Heat devouring his flesh. Every part of him burning. Yet he could not even scream...

"Mia." His voice was a vicious thunder. A single hand raised to pull back his hood, revealing just who he was. Isley Verd, a relic of the past. A footnote in the story of Mandalore the Liberator. They were allies once. Maybe even decent acquaintances. Yet right here? Right now? A Dead Man demanded answers. "Do you know what it's like to burn?"

[member="Mia Monroe"]

 

[Mia Monroe]

There was something incredibly unnerving about hearing her name echoing across the station. The bolter was out and up again, her heart in her throat, a fluttering in her stomach. Fear, but not for her own safety. She peered past the barrel at its new target as the hood was lowered. "Feth." she breathed, lowering the gun a little, so it was aiming more at his chest than his head.

Isley fething Verd.

She recalled Ijaat's reaction to his 'death', how he had wavered in that moment, when all those deaths he'd caused suddenly became personal. Mia never wavered, not once, not even when the took Ijaat's life. "I've experienced a great deal of pain, in varying forms. It only served to make me stronger." She raised her other hand, fire danced in its palm, the orange reflecting in her grey eyes. "I never burn though."

She closed her hand, extinguishing the flame. "If you seek retribution, I'd advise heavily against it."

[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Malok]

[member="Mia Monroe"] was not Ijaat.

The master of the Forge was broken by his sins. He came to Monastery and surrendered himself - he was a shell of his former self. Yet Mia, the Liberator herself, she did not walk with the burden of sin upon her back. No. There was no remorse in her expression. There was no regret, no pause given from seeing the Dead walk before her. No. A bolter was her response, levied against a man who once considered her...a friend.

"I'd say the same for myself." he retorted. "What you have done has caused my pain, in varying forms. It only served to make me stronger." His sulfuric gaze looked her up and down, a simple and calculating maneuver. He had never once entertained the notion of bringing harm to his former Mand'alor before...yet now emotions were being dragged out of him. The deepest and most vicious corners of what made Metus himself were beginning to stir.

"Why? You'll kill me? Again?"

A chilling laugh escaped him.

"No...Right now, I seek only answers. I thought we were...Tell me why, Mia. Why did you destroy Mandalore? Why did you kill me?"

 

[Mia Monroe]

"If I have to." she replied flatly to his question of killing him again. She paused a beat, contemplating her next move before holstering the bolter once more and taking a step closer to him.

"Don't make it sound so personal, Isley, not like I lined you up in my sights. You were collateral damage in an act that was necessary for the survival of our people." She inclined her head, indicating that he should walk with her, before continuing her path towards the trade centre. "I was angry with us falling into the same cycle, stagnation and rot had become the norm and the only way to be rid of it, was to burn it." she cast him a sideways glance. "Might seem like a mistake to you, but the wounds are still healing. The mandalorians will rise up again, stronger and more powerful than they ever were."

A band of street urchins passed by them, Mia whipped round, catching the wrist of on of them and retrieving her purse form his fingers, giving him a hard look before letting him go again. "Why is it, that you were content to kill Ijaat, and yet you hesitate when you see me?"

[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Malok]

The Sith snorted yet followed regardless, tabling his wrath...temporarily...at the sight of the bolter being holstered.

"You're an idiot." came his response. "And a hypocrite at that. Were you not the same person who told me to give up on Mandalore? And now you think lighting the place on fire would inspire some grand rebirth? Please. The Sole Ruler sits on his ass, doing Kark all, while the culture stagnates further. You didn't spark a great rebirth, you added fuel to already going dumpster fire."

He'd have spat for good measure, but he was in the presence of a lady.

"Simple. I gave a damn about you. Thought we were...almost friends. Ijaat was my Warden, not much else." He paused, watching the street urchin scamper off. "And you don't seem as broken up about killing millions as Ijaat was. And they say Sith like me are bad."

[member="Mia Monroe"]

 

[Mia Monroe]

"Yes, and a drunk one at that if I remember correctly, besides, what is that phrase, 'do as I say and not as I do'?" She retorted with a slight smirk. "I never said burning manda'yaim would inspire a great rebirth, I said it would, and has, cleared out the rot. The rebirth will take a lot more work than convincing a broken man to pull a trigger."

She stopped at the suggestion she was a Sith and rounded on him, fire blazing in her eyes. "Don't you dare insinuate that I am anything like you. Yes I killed millions, but my lack of remorse for their deaths has nothing to do with where I stand in the force. It was a strategic move in a war you are too fething blind to see because you are consumed by your own greed and desire. Every decision I have made has been for my people."

She glared at him for a moment more before continuing. "The mando'ade...the new name they have taken, that its the last of the rot. It will die out. They will be scattered across the stars."

Then and only then would the time be right.

[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Malok]

"Well, it's hard not to emulate someone you look up to. Metaphorically of course." Came his retort, eyes alive with amusement. However, the mirth was gone when she rounded on him; wearing an expression that said "tread carefully or eat a slug."

"Mia, you're everything like me. You've a bleeding heart for that rock you lit on fire and went about changing the culture to suit your definition of Mandalorian. Same as I did when I made the Empire. You burned worlds, I made a regime. You and I are cut from the same cloth, down to the Darkness."

Obvious jab at pyromancy is obvious.

"And when the Mando'ade die, then what? The Liberator will return?" His tone began almost sarcastic, but slowly...changed. "Because, burning me alive or not, if you ever decide to take a more hands-on approach this time around, and promise not to light me and mine on fire again. Well."

"I swayed for Ra. I tolerated Vilaz. But you? I'll kneel."

[member="Mia Monroe"]

 

[Mia Monroe]

Anger boiled in her at his accusations, fingers coiling, tempted by the cool metal of the bolters. To blow his fething brains out right here and now for daring to imply. He hadn't uttered the word sith yet, that and that alone was his only saving grace. She couldn't kill a man for simply implying she was a Sith.. .

But his voice changed, the accusation and mocking tone dropped away to be replaced with words that made Mia's heart to flutter. The anger was gone in an instant and for a long moment, Mia simply regarded him.

"Do you swear it?" She replied, her words soft barely audible, but growing stronger as she spoke. "Do you swear to me, here and now, that when I call our brothers home you will come?"

[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Malok]

"My oath to you is the same as it has always been."

His tone remained steady. Earnest, even.

"When I was young and walked my own Path, I came running to your call. That has not, nor will it ever change. You are my Mand'alor, the only one I will ever halt my own ambition to aide. You are the sole link that keeps my soul from being lost forever."

Reaching out, his dominant hand rested on her shoulder. He gave it a light squeeze.

"Suffice it to say, I swear it to you. When you call, me and mine will be at your side. And for what it's worth, I forgive you. As I said before, you and I are one in the same. We bleed for Mandalore and walk away out of disgust and frustration don't we. We do our best and when the old stifles the new, we try to move on."

A light chuckle escaped him.

"But no matter how many thrones I make myself, the Resol'nare keeps biting me in the ass one way or another."

[member="Mia Monroe"]

 

[Mia Monroe]

Mia blinked, eyes dropping briefly to the hand on her shoulder. She never had been a fan of being touched, but for the moment. She tolerated it, because she found it oddly comforting.

When she looked back up she was aware of tears in her eyes and a lump in her throat. "I didn't ask for your forgiveness, but I appreciate it all the same." She blinked hard, trying to understand why she was fighting the urge to cry. Mia did not cry, not in public and certainly not in a moment like this. As if in response to her unspoken question, the child in her belly shifted.

She rolled her eyes. "Fething hormones." She muttered, knocking Isley's hand from her shoulder and making to walk away, wiping her eyes before turning back. "For the record, if you don't show up, I'll come for you and yours and take everything."

[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Malok]

Wait.

The Sith froze when he saw her eyes. Glistening. That wasn't right. It was about as right as Ember Rekali wearing a dress. Mia Monroe never showed vulnerability. She was dauntless. She was sound. She was very pregnant.

Oh.

When the Liberator shrugged his hand away, Darth Metus simply slid it into his pocket.

"Won't ever come to that. As I said before, you call, I come running."

Changing gears, he asked a relatively standard question.

"How long until your little one is born. And...uhh...Do you need anything? Clothes? Diapers?"

Not that he knew how to change one.

[member="Mia Monroe"]

 

[Mia Monroe]

"Four months." She replied shaking her head at the offer of assistance or at the very least...stuff. "Only thing I need is for Rel to climb out of whatever hole he's hiding in and that I know is a long shot.

She shrugged. "I babysat mandalorians for long enough, I'm sure I can tackle single mum too." If only she believed those words. Motherhood was probably the most terrifying she'd ever had to face.

She changed the subject, away from herself, away from things that made her squirm. "I hear you have hauled the CIS out if the shadows again."

[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Malok]

"If anyone can do it, it's you." came his simple response.

When [member="Mia Monroe"] asked about the Confederacy, Darth Metus simply indicated all the people around them.

"I was born on Mandalore, but I became a man in the first Confederacy. I felt obligated to help our people before, during, and after Ra Vizsla. But now? Now I see those same worlds I bled for under the boot of an Empire. It just...it didn't sit right with me. All these people are terrified. They're running from the War, running from Slavers, running to survive. So, I gave them somewhere to run too."

He returned his hand to his pocket.

"Geonosis isn't a bad place to have your little one. I really cleaned up the place. Even have Alderaan's minister of medicine organizing our medical network."

The offer was there. She could have a place to run to if she wanted, or needed.

[member="Mia Monroe"]

 

[Mia Monroe]

Mia could appreciate what Isley was doing, glancing round at the scurrying people he indicated toward. Refugees were commonplace among the galaxy, to give them somewhere to run to was a good cause. Surprising, considering his state in the force, but then Isley had always had a good heart, even if he buried it beneath layers of steal. She contemplated his offer, for a moment and smiled.

"Nayc ori'vod." she replied eventually, a hand going to her stomach. "My child will be born on Manda'yaim. That is our home, it is my home, regardless of what condition it is in."

[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Malok]

"I wish you well in bringing the young Liberator into the world." he said, nodding. "Just let me know when he or she is born, I'll bring gifts. That said..."

The Sith placed his gaze upon her once more.

"What's our next move?"

[member="Mia Monroe"]

 

[Mia Monroe]

Mia pondered this question. she had not planned on having support before she called them back to Mandalore. She had expected to run into more than a few hotheaded fools and have to defend herself, but knowing that Isley was on her side seemed to make things a little easier, allowed her to open her mind to other possibilities.

"I want you to put out feelers, quietly. Chose those you speak to wisely, Isley, you know as well as I do how stupid some people can be and i don't want you caught up in a punishment meant for me." If punishment was the right word, at least in their eyes it would be. "I'm staying in the Outer Rim for a couple more months, theres more than a few wayward individuals that have made their way to the Coalition and I'd like to tackle them head on. Assuming Jorus will let me."

[member="Darth Metus"]