Are You Ready, Nia & Trake

With the window ports shut tight, panels of durasteel obscuring the orbital view of Sevarcos II, and the lights off, the room looked more like a cell than a bedroom. That would be to an outside observer. To Izu, a large scaly lump nestled in the corner between the bed and the wall nearest the door, it was a safe haven. She had closed the eye panels of her mask and curled in on herself, cat-like. The only part of her that looked organic the was, ironically, the twitching end of her tail. She wasn't sleeping. She couldn't sleep out here. Out here in empty, cold, dark, space.

Izu hadn't been shy about keening her discomfort. The moment she had been excused to leave her charge, she'd retreated to her room and now, she had been in this state for an hour or two at least. If she didn't open her mind, she couldn't feel the emptiness of space just beyond those panels of durasteel, and so she had closed herself off in even that sense, refusing to let her senses go beyond the tiny room. Well, her own tiny room and the room next to hers. Despite her unhappy state, she wouldn't dare let the small blue worm-head come to harm. That had been the directive given to her and it would be achieved at whatever cost, though Izu's thoughts often drifted to the taste of those tentacles hanging from her head. She could bear the thought of out in space like this for now. The Tiss'shar practiced her meditation, taking her discomfort and depositing it in her well of emotion that she would draw upon when needed.

It was at the sound of muffled movement in the next room that Izu's head snapped up. Nia'ana was on the move and Izu unwound, stretching out in the cramped space. It was time to go to this meeting. The entire reason they were here. Her claws ripped the blanket on the bed as she grasped it and the mattress to pull herself to her feet. A sigh escaped her mouth as she snapped her teeth together, the sound bouncing about in the tiny room, and she reached for her harness. Strapping it on, she maneuvered herself to duck through the door and wait on her charge, her curved claws tapping against the shiny metal of the floor.

While it may have been known that Lady Nia'ana preferred solid land beneath her feet, she was not adverse to conveyance amongst the stars. She saw it simply as a method of transport and rarely looked any deeper than that. Like most things in her life, it was a means to an end. She didn't consider the lifeless void beyond the hull or the effects of sudden depressurisation if a hull breach were to occur. Her mind was focused upon other things of far greater importance. Despite their efforts, the Cult of Sadow was still in shambles. The lovely little organisation that Nia'ana now ruled with her fellow Triumvir was in desperate need of supplies, monetary assets, and manpower.

Lady Nia'ana couldn't care less about that. She fulfilled her own goals and lusted after personal power. It was a problem that her personal power was forever intertwined with the continuation and growth of the Cult of Sadow. Without the misanthropic organisation, she would just be another thug in a merciless galaxy. So it was with her own interests at the forefront of her mind that she agreed to another meeting with the Besk Kajidic.

Aboard the Lucrehulk-class cargo freighter, Nia rested in one of the small quarters that lined the circumference of the hulking transport. The room was kept dark and the twi'lek lay on the small bed with one hand behind her head. The light of a dreary, dirty sun cut through the viewport and cast the room in ochre. The light made the Triumvir's skin pigmentation almost black and caught on the vicious polished angles of a clawed appendage, reflecting odd shapes around the stark room.

The anxiety coming from the room next door was a pleasant one to say the least, and one that Nia'ana wished to extend for as long as possible. It was a like a sweet nectar that she couldn't get enough of. A snarl of a smile caught her lips like a hook and the lekku resting across her throat and breast twitched in a pleasing rhythm. A mental note was made; Nia would remember this weakness for when the inevitable came. If she was smart, it could be used to her advantage.

Blood red eyes flicked open, staring hazily towards the bleak ceiling and mesh environmental vents. Rising from the bed, Nia uncurled her hand from behind her head and took the lightsaber staff resting beside her. Hopping from the bed, her feet cold upon the metal floor, the Cultist clamped the lightsaber to her hip and instinctively touched the grip of the enforcer holstered to her thigh; eight in the clip and one in the breech. The urge for violence was powerful and the Triumvir was hoping for an excuse.

With one hand resting almost regally upon the extended shaft of the lightsaber jutting at an angle from her hip, Lady Nia'ana left the small room. Izu, the tiss'shar, was already waiting in the hallway. Such diligence and dedication, the Triumvir wondered why all in the Cult couldn't show such traits. Walking quickly, Nia passed the deceptively prehistoric creature, said "come," and continued walking. The tone the Triumvir used with Izu was far more pleasant than she used with many of the Cult. Izu had proven herself more than once and her status garnered respect. But there was no doubt it was an order.

Trake stood naked within his quarters on the Lucrehulk. He had been housed within a small room deep within the massive ship, no view of space just one static image of the space above Nal Hutta. The air was filtered and clean, no different than what he breathed within his helm but it felt different somehow outside the armor. In the Echani culture they fought naked and unarmed in courting, learning one another intimately. Trake’s act was less spiritual, in Besk space he lived within his armor and though it’s life support functioned flawlessly spending a week locked within its red walls was not appealing.

The armor lay ignored on Trake’s small bunk until a chime from the ship’s comm announced their meeting. Pale skin disappeared under its black underlay. Its plates, boots and gloves were all red, he clasped a red cloak at his neck. His silver hair disappeared under a red crown. His ears popped as the helmet sealed and the Life Support System began its duties. Lively silver eyes were hidden behind the empty gaze of a black visor.

Group jobs and private contracts were always volatile gatherings. The Echani preferred not to put his trust in strange allies, everything he needed was at his waist or otherwise on his person. He could ride an escape pod to Sevarcos and survive 2 weeks out in the winds if he needed to. It was a real danger considering how little he knew of the meeting. Ussul had been contracting but it was clearly not a job for the hutt. None of the mercenaries knew anything either. The twi’lek twins chose not to converse in basic, huttese or dosh and so were left alone. The Trandoshan was known to Trake, despite his appearance he wasn’t a half-bad pilot.

A human in Mandalorian armor was the only other mercenary Trake had encountered. He could have been the boss, liked to pretend like he was but Trake had his doubts. The man’s demeanor was too forced, his movements were false. He still treated his armor like armor instead of the second skin it would have felt like to a true Mandalorian. Most likely they’d meet the man in charge at this first meeting.

Trake encountered the occasional crew member as he passed through the halls but no one of importance. He arrived at the conference room early and the sisters were already there. Their twin smiles were unpleasant. It took just a few moments more for the others to start filing in.

Izu was a creature of instinct. In her small mind, the Cult was a pack of predators and in the position of alpha were the Triumvirates, though they were three, not one. Izu, herself, was not sure of her position, but she knew she was not among the weak. However, she was absolutely certain of Nia'ana's position. The Twi'lek, though younger, displayed a ferocity in every movement that Izu could respect and even like. She was alpha. Her mind went to hunting as the worm-headed one prowled from her room and she briefly thought of what fun it would be in these tight corridors. Pulling aside the panels of her Sith Mask, Izu bowed her feathery head to the Triumvir.

As irresistible a flame is to a moth, the Tiss'shar was drawn to Nia'ana's violence and her metallic tail buzzed as it twitched in both irritation and pleasure. To feel its warmth, she had to open her mind and her senses, but once she was basking in it, Izu was able to forget her discomfort and relax. Her shoulders loosened and she rumbled deep in her barrel-like chest, the sound reaching the back of her throat in low-pitched clicks and growls. When a taste for meat could not be satisfied, Izu had learned other ways to feed.

"Come."

At her order, Izu straightened letting her to pass, and then turned to follow, the sweet sound of the bells around her ankles completely contradicting her predatory prowl. Two slit yellow eyes focused for a moment on the thick appendages swinging from Nia'ana's head against her hips. She had had Twi'lek meat before... She knew that lekku made a lovely roast.

The imaginings of what dishes she could make of Nia'ana, and anybody who passed them in the hall for that matter, drifted after Izu all the way to the meeting room. Of course, Izu wouldn't dare try anything now, but a predator could dream. She was rather peckish by the time they arrived.

The room was pleasant affair, not something often seen with criminals. Izu was a little surprised. Ambient white lighting filled the room along with a long, polished metal table. A long view port along the left wall gave a grand view of the dull brown surface of Sevarcos II. Izu avoided eye contact with the view port, though, she felt more comfortable when she could see the threat through one large window instead of many small ones.

The miasma of danger and paranoia in the room was thick, but that wasn't anything new. Criminals were dangerous, to others and themselves. Like the Cult, you never knew when some coward weakling would stab you in the back and steal your kill. However, these were the kinds of mercenaries they were looking for. They had to sacrifice loyalty for efficiency. They could just replace loyalty with fear. With this in mind, Izu loomed behind Nia'ana, her yellow eyes focusing on each of the beings in turn, just daring them to try anything backstabby or kill stealy. She had to resist the urge to curl herself protectively around her Triumvir and grip the wrapped hilt of her saber.

Her predatory glaring had a good effect on them. A few looked surprised to see her, but others had seen her around the ship. She was trying to discern who the alpha may be, who looked the most powerful. One armored being was posing and strutting, vying for the position, but Izu's mind pushed him aside for the impostor he was. Two worm-heads sat across the table next to one another, their appearances eerily similar, but they weren't in charge. And the Trandoshan? Absolutely not. Izu felt no respect for his kind - he looked so similar to her, but had the inefficient shape of a humanoid. No, the only creature that Izu saw as the leader was Nia'ana still and as they all settled down, she took her place behind Nia'ana's chair, positioning herself so that she was part of the meeting, but still in an advantageous spot should negotiations go bad.

There was one being in particular that Izu had not seen about the ship since they'd gotten there. A creature, armored in a red that drew the eyes. As the moments passed, she found she couldn't focus on the proceedings and her mind kept drifting back to him, something about him tugging at her senses. She turned her head to stare at Trake, her orange crest rising in interest. A low growl sounded in her throat before she stood from where she crouched and approached him, unsure of what was so curious about him. Turning her head, to give one eye full view of him, her jaws snapped in slight frustration, her nostrils flaring as she blew out hot air over the top of his helm.

There wasn't any doubt within the Triumvir's mind of how dangerous it was at the top. Every eye and every mind in the Cult was focused upon them. Nia'ana had taken her position within the Triumvirate by force. She had been the stronger. And while she had no wish to relinquish her power, there was a part of the twi'lek that would have been disappointed in the Cult if she was not toppled from her seat. This was their way. The strong survive and the weak die; she wouldn't have it any other way.

The Triumvir entered the conference room so cordially provided by their hutt associates with a stone hardened expression. Her eyes were nasty, hate filled, and flicking between all in the room. Her mouth set into a dark frown. Her mind opened to them, brushing against their consciousnesses and picking up unguarded thoughts. Four were mundane impressions against the ether, bland and untouched by the Force, wholly unimpressive. One, however, shone brighter than the rest. Her eyes drew across the crimson armour. This one had a potential, unpolished and untrained, but it was there. She flashed a spiteful grin, the red warrior was ignorant to his potential.

Turning her head, Nia's stare lingered on the mandalorian for the longest time, the armoured figure was repulsive to her. She still hadn't forgotten what his kind did on Koriban. The impulse to exact some form of horrible revenge upon the warrior was almost too much. However, he was not the same calibre of warrior that she faced on that dead world. This man was a shallow charlatan. She would kill that one once he was no longer useful, Nia'ana promised herself. That promise was the only thing that kept her anger in check and avoided costing them a member of the team.

Pacing the room, to move to the head of the table, Nia examined the rest of her would be crew. She did not sit, preferring to stand at the head of the table. The twins would not be an issue. Nia'ana was glad to see that not all of her kind was in the service industry. Far too many were sold into bondage for her liking. The trandoshan, notorious slavers, perhaps she would kill him at the end of this too. Despite all her malice and animosity, the Triumvir had a soft spot for slaves. She was from their stock and understood the powerless situation better than she wished. If it hadn't been for the Cult, she would have probably been dead by now.

Izu stalked behind her, guarding the Triumvir. It was likely that many in the room feared the tiss'shar more than the twi'lek, and while that fear was well placed within the powerful prehistoric form, that wasn't the creature they should have feared. Nia'ana held the leash, and to command such a beast was definitely something not to be snubbed at. One unspoken word to Izu and the room would be awash with blood.

Nia'ana nodded at the group assembled by the Besk Kajdic for their expedition into crime. At least three of them would be very rich by the end of this.
"No introductions. This is my operation. We all know why we are here—" the Triumvir paused and glared at the tiss'shar. Izu was making a scene. No doubt she could feel the latent Force sensitivity from the red warrior that Nia'ana had identified earlier. However, her subordinate did not know what to make of it. She could tell something was different about the man. To his credit, the red warrior held his ground to Izu's primal enquiries.

Feeling her anger take a hold, she sent a needle into Izu's mind. The act caused a spiteful grin to break.
+Enough, Izu. We'll deal with him later.+ Nia'ana sent to her partner in crime, not holding back her disappointment or anger.
She faced forward, "—now let's go over the plan."

Trake had once been owned by Ussul the Hutt. The relationship had never been so formalized but it had taken a lot for the Echani to work his way free of the slug’s fat fingers. During the time he had served under the criminal every job had seemed dirtier, wrong somehow. It hadn’t been any specific act or person but an unshakable aura of discomfort, a deeper wrongness. As their employers entered the room Trake felt that wrongness again, washing over him in a wave. He felt nauseous, though he stood unmoving his head spun and grew cloudy as the Twi’lek and the Tiss’Shar let their gazes fall upon his red armor. The two looked nothing alike but there was a quality to their eyes like that of the twins, a similarity beyond the physical. Yellow eyes and red, each woman’s piercing gaze was a portal into hatred and violence.

Any hopes for a quiet job and a quick departure were quickly dashed as the Twi’lek singled him out with a vicious grin, all teeth and no warmth. He offered the woman a nod and went back to staring out the room’s lone viewport. He wanted nothing to do with these people or whatever organization they represented. Good contractors were occasionally approached by fringe factions with offers of permanent employment, it never ended well. Narcissism was a common trait among the criminal elite and it often made a polite refusal impossible. If the woman was interested in him, whatever the reason, he doubted he was interested in her offer.

A feeling of dread had settled like a stone at the pit of Trake’s stomach but he overcame the discomfort enough to focus on Nia’s words. ”No introductions. This is my operation...”

Trake had just started to relax and let the meeting settle into the ordinary when some invisible chain was loosed and the Tiss’Shar separated from her master. Tiss’Shar were known throughout the galaxy as assassins, Trake had competed against several of the lizards over popular kill-bounties, he knew their kind. This beast had little in common with those others. She was massive, even in her predatory stance she stood taller than the Echani and she showed signs of other unnatural enhancements. Her tail and face were covered in metal armor, the former was obviously a cybernetic replacement, it was possible the latter hid the same. She leaned towards Trake as she approached, fangs clicking in a bestial manner. She turned her head strangely as she stared at him and blew fetid breath fogging his helm. The invasive study seemed primal in nature and Trake stood his ground instinctively.

The room fell silent as the strange scene continued. The Mercenaries had turned as one to watch and the Twi’lek had now paused as well. Trake was uncomfortable under their collective gaze but the massive Tiss’Shar was a more violent concern. He made no outward movements but beneath the folds of his cloak he settled his free hand on the blaster at his waist. If the Tiss’Shar struck he couldn’t stop her, he knew how quickly they moved and she was too close and too large. Before the volatile moment could explode into violence however, it abruptly ended.

The woman retreated back to her master, the mist of the lizard’s breath evaporated from Trake’s helm and the mercenaries returned their attention to the briefing, everyone’s weapons remained holstered. The plan was a bank robbery, straightforward and far more mundane than the meetings beginning. Trake kept his hand on his blaster until their next meeting had been agreed to and they began filing out. His first instinct was to abandon the job but his pride refused the obvious option. It would hurt his reputation if he left the job unfinished. He remained unmoving within the conference room while the others departed, unwilling to allow his back the the freak Tiss’Shar.

This post has been edited by Trake Korel on Mar 17 2010, 04:34 AM

Izu had known there was some potential to the Force sensitive in the room, but when he hardly flinched back like she expected from most sentients, her fiery crest stretched higher. She was impressed. One large claw tapped against the floor and saw his hand actually go to his blaster. She snorted, something like a chuckle, her ankle bells tinkling at the movement. The Tiss'shar was oblivious to the silence that descended on the group. She only cared about this newest target. This was her way with Cult potentials - if she saw one she fancied, she always got around to testing them, to see if they were worth her while. This one got her excited for a fight and she shoved her head closer in an effort to intimidate.

That was when Izu felt Nia'ana's words slice into her mind and she flinched back as though she'd been physically struck. Though it wasn't directed at Trake, she opened her mouth and hissed at him, her jaws looking like they could fit his head from the jaw to the crown and her forked tongue lashing out. The way she looked at him after had a definite 'I'm not done with you' quality to it. Then, she retreated to stand behind the Triumvir's chair, her crest flat against her neck. She didn't like being intruded upon so abruptly and her dissatisfaction was obvious in the way the tip of her metal tail tapped on the floor. But she also didn't like being disappointing and she stayed where she was, listening as closely as her mind allowed to the plan. A bank robbery for more useless credits. Couldn't they rob a farm instead? At least things like meat were useful.

It was as the meeting concluded that she started keening at Nia'ana, the sound pitched high and pitiful, asking if she could go get him now, please, oh, please? She didn't wait for an answer however, having waited long enough, her mind too focused on getting the Echani before he left the room. She sprung out from behind Nia'ana's chair and flashed in front of the door, letting the Trandoshan past, though not without a few disdainful snaps of her jaw. She blocked the exit for Trake and crouched down so she was at eye level with him. It was apparent that she wouldn't let him go without a fight, but she couldn't convey exactly what she wanted from him without words.

Izu was a creature of little to no words and instead, she just demonstrated, flicking her tail at the control panel that was a few feet away and closing the door with a thought. Most sentients she came across were much smarter than her. They usually knew what a Force user was when they saw one, but to solidify the fact, she unhooked her saber hilt from her harness and held it out. She didn't ignite the blade, that would likely alarm him, but instead, she looked past the red-armored man at Nia'ana.

The meeting adjourned rather quickly. There weren't any questions. Nia'ana suspected that the tiss'shar mewing and general attitude had made everyone uncomfortable. Even before everyone had left the room, Izu was sprinting across the room towards the door, snapping at the trandoshan as he left. The feral beast then closed the door with a flick to telekinesis. Lady Nia'ana was not impressed by the turn of events and glared through the tiss'shar. Nia realised that she should have been more specific with her order to settle this later.

Seeing this as a thorn in her side that wasn't going to go away any time soon, Nia decided it was best to let Izu play and get whatever this was out of her system. Her lekku thrashed about her shoulders. Slowly her eyes turned in their sockets to the red warrior. He didn't know what he was in for and in a small way she pitied him. Nia'ana's attention returned to the awaiting tiss'shar at the end of the room. At least the prehistoric throwback still viewed her as the commanding figure in the room. Whatever the creature's impulses told her to do, she was waiting for permission.

"She wants to fight you," Lady Nia'ana said, almost bored, to the echani with red eyes firmly fixed upon Izu and arms crossed. Nia walked around the table and never took her eyes off the tiss'shar. She was determined to let the Cultist know how much she disapproved of this and the consequences were Izu to murder a member of their team before the heist. She released some of the power she was holding back and focused it on Izu. Raw fury and unabated anger pressed oppressively upon her reptilian mind.

Standing beside Izu, Nia reached out with her hand, took hold of the metal jaw plate, and yanked her head around. Eye to eye, Nia'ana needed to know that Izu understood her words perfectly.
"Do not kill him," she growled, holding Izu's head in position and maintaining eye contact for as long as she thought necessary. Lady Nia'ana pushed the ironclad head away. The door to the conference room opened and Nia stepped beyond the portal. Pausing, she looked over her shoulder to the red warrior.
"That doesn't go for you. Kill her if you can," Nia'ana snorted out a laugh, bitter and cruel. The red warrior was going to need all the edge he could get if he wanted to best Izu. The door hissed closed, trapping the echani with the tiss'shar, and Nia walked away.

The ‘Mandalorian’, his arrogant preening fooling no one, was the first to flee the room after the meeting had concluded, far more elegantly the twi’lek sisters followed suit. That was all the patience the Tiss’Shar held within her massive form. The Trandoshan was shoved out the door bodily, the door hissed shut after an invisible command. The trap sprung, things began moving quickly.

The Tiss’Shar held her club outstretched and Trake came to understand just how much trouble he was in. It was a lightsaber, the Twi’lek’s staff and obvious command marked her own power. There had been bounties on Jedi in the past but Trake had always avoided them. Though he knew several bounty hunters who had gone after the inevitably high rewards no one had ever survived to collect. True Jedi lived by a code that counted most hunters as murderers and mercenaries, those from the fringe cults were every bit as dangerous with incomprehensible motivations.

The two lightsaber wielding woman stood barring the door, she was whining as if wounded. Her companion’s head tails were flapping, her evil eyes turned upon the Echani. Trake’s energy shield hummed to life but he made know other move while the Tiss’Shar looked to her master for some form of command. Jedi were said to be formidable warriors, Trake was more interested in living than in killing.

The Twi’lek was the one to speak again, “She wants to fight you,” The woman managed to adequately convey the message ‘she will fight you. He didn’t bother to argue, the two were clearly insane. Before departing the Twi’lek violently grabbed her larger companion and commanded the Tiss’Shar not kill. Trake ignored the advice she offered him.

With the door locked and the two left alone once more Trake chose a more proactive approach to escaping the two insane Jedi. The Tiss’Shar still held her lightsaber out before her, the Echani leveled the playing field by drawing his dissuader and leveling it at the large lizard. He placed the large table between them framing his form with the open view of Sevarcos II. Security blades began emitting high pitched frequencies as they sought to unlock the door.

The Tiss’Shar seemed unwilling to speak so Trake exercised his own vocal chords seeking to buy the time needed for the blades to do their job. ”You seem to know me Tiss’Shar but I do not know you. I don’t know your master either, I’m not inclined to follow her advice. You let me leave and I let you live, easy.” His pleasant voice was fed through a speech scrambler, coming out first unnaturally low and then distinctly feminine, artificial like a droid and then the purring of one of the feline races.

Izu was just fine with allowing Nia'ana to speak for her. The worm-head said it concisely enough, though Izu shied away from her projection of fury and dissatisfaction. It wrapped around her mind, feeling like a white-hot inches from the skin. Izu started to open her mouth to whine, to argue that the man was a Force sensitive and this was just how it was done, but beyond that dissatisfaction was a concession to her desires. No words needed to be said until Nia'ana grabbed Izu by the faceplate and yanked her head around. She swiveled easily, unresisting. It would've been no trouble to disobey, but Izu never thought to do such a thing, still willing to yield to her leader.

Do not kill him."

Izu's snorted in disappointment, and she bared her teeth. But what if she found the Echani weak? What if he wasn't worth her while after all? Surely, she should get compensation for wasting her time on him... But orders were orders and Izu's tongue flicked out to touch feather-light on Nia'ana's hand, a motion of impudent compliance.

As her Triumvir left and the door hissed shut, Izu's head swung around to see that the red-armored one had retreated from her, around the table, his weapon raised. It didn't deter her. Izu ducked into a predatory stance and started growling deep in her throat in preparation. When he stood on the other side of the table, framed by the view port, Izu snapped her jaws, and had to force herself to look at him and only him, not at the space beyond. Thus, it escaped her attention when he pulled out the security blades.

"...You let me leave and I let you live, easy.”

Her tongue flicked out to wet one nostril, and then the other as she considered him. He seemed to be many in one, many different voices coming from the same head. Her crest raised up partially, in short-lived curiosity, before flattening again. The meat of the matter was that he wanted to her to let him go. And let go a potentially powerful member of the Cult? It was laughable. Even more laughable was that he believed he would be the one letting her live. No, his words were delusional. She was the bigger and stronger predator and she would get what she wanted.

It was the sliver of intention that she caught from his mind which alerted her of what he wanted. He wanted to escape and one of the things he held was enabling him to do so. As soon as this was realized, Izu's mouth opened wide and she shrieked with rage, the sound amplified by the small space. He would dare deny her challenge? At the same moment that the doors slid open, she lunged, her talons scrabbling on the table as she vaulted onto it surface, and she roared again, bits of spittle flying from her mouth as she crouched low to get into his face. The deep, primal sound echoed out of the room and down the hallway, laced with Izu's rage and the power of Force Scream.

As her mouth snapped shut, the sound of others running and shouting from outside drew Izu's attention for a fraction of a second, and she ignited her saber, the blade throwing vicious red-orange light around the room. Tendrils of black rage were starting to invade her mind, and she stomped one clawed foot to stem the flow of it, her tail lashing. As the Echani moved to escape, she stomped the other claw, splitting the metal slab down the middle. Not yet. He wanted to run and she would let him. There would be a hunt - She needed all her instincts about her for it. When she caught him, he would be hers, or she was having Echani for dinner.

The Tiss’Shar actually paused to consider Trake’s offer. It was a moment of restraint and thought that he had not expected from the impulsive creature. Her tongue flicked out to each nostril in a manner too bestial to be considered offensive, it was disgusting though. The colorful crest atop her lizard-like head rose briefly before resting again. He knew too little of Tiss’Shar idiosyncrasies to know exactly what the motion meant but he guessed it was confusion or surprise, interest maybe.

While Trake’s security-blades worked through frequencies beyond both species’ auditory abilities the Echani sought to gain some insight on his new enemy. That they wanted him alive was troubling, as often as not live bounties were in for torture. Trake couldn’t think of anyone specific but he was sure there were at least a few out there who wouldn’t mine carving him up. He expected there was no job. He was a pragmatic man, it was easy to imagine Ussul selling him out to the highest bidder and a false job was an easy way to lure him. If he weren’t on the bad end of this deal he would have respected the tact.

The security blades offered only the slightest signal of their success but somehow the Tiss’Shar caught on and her curiosity and confusion were replaced with unmitigated rage. Her display was was gaudy and purposeless. The scream was impressively loud but within his helmet Trake was unfazed. The display continued complete with slathering fangs and a leap up onto the furniture.

If he had still been locked within the room Trake may have felt adequate fear for the display but the door had already swung open and he holstered his pistol and fled. He ducked under a lunging snout and dropped a flashbang to make his escape. Another piercing cry and a massive crash alerted the rest of the station to their disagreement but the bounty hunter worked to minimize the mercenary presence he was sure was on its way.

Trake’s red armor shimmered out of sight as he activated his stealth generator. He flicked on an interference box to cutoff communication systems and added a sound sponge to muffle his speedy flight. He adjusted the security blades to compensate for the ship’s security systems.

It was foolish to believe the two Jedi acted alone in their pursuit of Trake. Even if Ussul was not directly involved in the trap he would not help the Echani, at least not cheaply. Jedi powers were said to be vast and varied and if any of the techno-tricks facilitated his escape Trake needed the advantage. He knew the layout of the Lucrehulk reasonably well and kept to its outer edges on his way to the docking bay which held his ship. The Dissuader KD-30 fired hollowpoint rounds with a potent acid he believed was capable of piercing the hull.

Trake’s full body armor came complete with a life support system which offered protection from the cold of space. The Tiss’Shar, largely naked, had no such support. It was difficult to imagine the Force providing its own atmosphere but he was forced to admit he knew little of its powers beyond mere rumor. That deficiency had never been a problem before but as the lightsaber wielding lunatic charged down the halls after his shadowed form Trake regretted his ignorance.

The sound and light from the flash bang, made Izu jump back, shrieking. She thrashed about, knocking into the wall and the broken table, her metal tail making dents in the metal wall. She could sense Trake's presence retreating from the room, and she squealed, regaining her composure and rushing after him, the tips of her claw clacking and scraping on the floor.

Her vision was white and her eardrums were ringing, but it didn't stop her sense of smell. Violently stumbling into the hall, she widened her nostrils and flicked her tongue out. He was far away already. Still, her head swung in the direction Trake ran before her body twisted to follow and she was rocketing after him. The flashbang had thrown off her balance and she was clipping herself on the wall as she moved forward until her vision cleared, but once it did, she was running straight, and picking up speed. She could sense him, but she chose to follow her nose, instead of closing the eye holes of her mask, to avoid sensing the blackness of space beyond as well.

As she gained on his invisible form, she started to snap at his heels, the sight a peculiar one for anybody who didn't know she was chasing something. Even though she wanted to just lunge and sink her teeth into his leg, Nia's orders kept flashing through her mind. She mustn't kill him. So she refrained and continued the chase down the hall. The layout of the lucrehulk was still unfamiliar to her. It was imperative that she keep up with him or she'd lose him quickly.

It was as this thought passed that the hallway opened up into a larger room, a cargo bay with an wide open view of space. With a force shield generator the only thing between her and the emptiness, Izu's instincts screamed 'bad' and she reeled back away from the sight.

She recovered quickly, but the distraction was enough to make her lose track of Trake and she stood in the middle of the bay, looking everywhere but at space, keening and snapping her jaws in frustration. She ignored the beings who stared at her as she whipped her head about looking for any sign of him. She found one, a whiff of his scent and she followed it, prowling among the stacked crates.

Trake moved through empty corridors with muted grace as he made his way towards his ship. The pursuing Tiss’Shar’s movements stood in stark contrast to the mercenary’s stealth. Clawed feet gouged deep scratches in the otherwise smooth floor, each lengthy stride caused an irritating screech Trake’s helm only partially muffled. She moved with impressive speed but the flashbang had done its trick and it seemed moving in a straight line was impossible for the lizard, more than once she crashed into the wall with force and her metallic tail swung wildly.

Trake made the most of his pursuer’s momentary confusion and was nearing his ship before the Tiss’Shar’s impressive speed had her snapping at his heels in a manner that might have been comical if not for the very real threat those jaws posed. He lashed back with the occasional kick but he was not foolish enough to believe his meager defense was enough, the lizard held back in her assault. The Twi’lek was clearly the leader of the pair and her words continued to chain the creature’s aggression.

Trake took advantage of the Tiss’Shar’s hesitancy and made it to the bay which held his ship. Though the Echani’s blastboat was a hunter’s ship the Besk station was normally home to smugglers and their goods, leaving the bay scattered full of crates and heavy equipment. The emptiness of space facing opposite the pair offered freedom to the Echani but his pursuer recoiled in fear from the sight. The instinctual action offered Trake some breathing room and further insight into the mind of his enemy. The best way an Echani could learn was through combat but even with the Twi’lek’s promise of life he wasn’t yet ready to fight the massive jedi.

Trake dropped another flashbang, the first had been a success and though the Tiss’Shar’s eyes were shielded by her mask the explosive sound left minds rattled and ears bleeding among most sentient species. Under cover of its disorienting blast he ducked behind a stack of crates and made his way towards the console housing the force field controls. Twice now when facing the black depths the Tiss’Shar had slowed and become visibly uncomfortable, it was at least one weakness in the jedi’s violent demeanor and Trake worked to take whatever advantage he could from the phobia.

Trake gained sight of the controls he needed at the cost of losing sight of his pursuer but he risked little. He was only loosely affiliated with the Besks but upon landing he had been granted access to the hangar and there was no need for slicing or other illicit actions as red fingers danced across the keypad. Only a few basic safety measures delayed his closing of the force field. He took the time to secure himself to the wall with his grappling hook.

Besk crewmembers fled the roaring Tiss’Shar and attempted to raise alarms Trake’s tools had already disabled. Their departure was ignored by both hunter and prey. The Echani had developed a healthy respect for his pursuer during his flight but was nonetheless unprepared for hey violent attack. He had believed the creature psychotic from the beginning but as she smashed the console with a single sweep of her cybernetic tail he saw in her yellow eyes an unbridled rage.

The flashbang made Izu reel back again, shrieking and thrashing, tipping over the less stable stacks of crates. Other beings started to flee the hangar bay, but she paid them no mind. The threat of a red mindless rage grew stronger at the pain in her head and she reached up to clutch around her ear holes, shaking herself vigorously.

She had stopped in her tracks now, surrounded by fallen crates and other debris. Slowly, she started opening her eyes, one and then the other, her slit pupils constricting into thin black lines. The scent lost in the invasive smell of the flash bang, she had to rely on her sight. Her hearing was full of the dreadful, dreadful ringing again. It wasn't very hard to find Trake, however, as his bright red armor easily drew Izu's eye.

Sweeping aside the fallen crates with a wave of her clawed hand, smashing them against each other and the wall, Izu advanced on the Echani, crouched low. It wasn't that she thought him unaware of her presence. She expected him to turn any second and try his blaster on her. When he did, she would pounce. Until then, though, she was conserving her energy.

The stance didn't last very long, however. She wasn't the smartest, but she knew when something was about go down the hole. He was opening up the airlock, and he was going to let them all be sucked out into cold, unfeeling space. That very thought was the snapping point for her. The rage engulfed her mind and she was thrown into her own black emptiness. Charging forward, she spun, her tail driving in an arc to smash down on the console he stood at, almost ramming her body up onto its surface. Twisting, she snapped at Trake's hands, her attacks quicker than the unaided eye could follow. She was going to kill him. She would rip him to pieces for even thinking of doing such a thing and she would feast on his flesh- The image of two piercing red eyes passed through the haze of Izu's mind and she unconsciously realized that to do such a thing would bring the wrath of Nia'ana down on her head. The worm-headed one would destroy her.

Her savage movements slowed enough to allow Trake to escape, but she was still looking to fight him, to see his worth. Her eyes, tinged with red, focused on him as though there was nothing in the universe but the two of them and their duel. Her metal tail swung around again, aiming at his legs before she hissed between her sharp teeth.

This whole affair was galling to the hunter. Trake Korel, Logan Mox, Jason Kenix, Kane Temuera, he had a hundred faces and a thousand victims. His red armor was a mark of fear to anyone with a credit count attached to their name, he had killed and fled from a militant system when just a teen. He had bought his freedom from a hutt. Death had seemed a foreign concept even just a few moments prior, he would never have admitted to notions of invincibility but he had never thought of his own death.

The fight had even begun reasonably well. His grappling hook had propelled him safely from the destruction of the console. With the advantages of both speed and strength in his opponent’s corner the Echani had begun with a dazzling array of precision strikes from all angles. When he connected it had been with force and in vital areas. He had read his opponent and seen only blinding rage and a more concentrated fear, he knew it did not stem from their battle. He had used the Echani training and instinct to avoid blows raining with blinding speed.

When he had been disarmed and physical faculties began overwhelming his superior martial prowess desperation had not yet set in. He acted quickly and rationally in drawing upon his defenses. He had even snared the Tiss’shar within the folds of his cloak, shocking her with at least two of the three charges. The electric energy had proved no more affective than the blunt trauma.

Impossibly the fight had continued. Trake’s confidence was replaced with blood and breathing impaired by cracked and broken ribs. His helmet stunk of vomit though he couldn’t recall throwing up. Inevitably it happened, he fell and found he couldn’t rise again. The Tiss’Shar continued to stomp and roar but as he lay there, powerless, she did not approach. Out of spite more than anything else he readied the Big Shock before lapsing into the black abyss of unconsciousness. It was his dearest hope that he not wake up, he had hunted enough doomed souls to know the abyss was the preferred end for prey.