The Birth of Death

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'And So it Goes'
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The Birth of Death

Post by Jack_Sigma »

Where else would it make sense for Death to be born, than in abject poverty? Amid disease and rot, a child that had no place in the world around it was left to fare for itself.

The Galaxy was a wide and beautiful place, filled with wonderous and strangely fantastic things, whose virtues were sung by travel brochures accross civilized space, but there was much that the brochures never mentioned, and never would. The Outer Rim of the known galaxy was also at times fantastic and awe-inspiring, and the insatiable urge to expand led many civilized species outward in an attempt to colonize even more land, and gain profit in any way possible.

Unfortunately, as new colonies sprang up further and further away from that bright center of the universe, as well as known trade routes, the possibility for their survival became dim. Attempts at mines, trader's outposts, research facilities, and wide spanning archeological digs were often abandoned, but more than just buildings were left behind. Researchers, colonists, miners and others found themselves stranded on planets that they had put all their faith and money into, and now no longer had the resources to leave or start over elsewhere.

And so small out-systems became populated, first by idealists and dreamers, and next by the darker element that led its own expansion into the outer rim. Criminals and thieves fleeing persecution from the law often found refuge in these systems, and soon warlords were found moving in, vying for territory and protection status over numerous small moons and planets, inhabited by bitter people simply trying to survive.

In one such forgotten quadrant known as the Aerit System, a primitive center for some of the local habitated planets evolved on the planet Rayje IV, aptly named after the warlord Tavin Rayje, who had been the first to establish a fortress on the planet. From a fortress and surrounding town feeding the warlord's needs and those of his army, the planet evolved into something much bigger, as Rayje attracted black-marketeers and encouraged them to set up business on the planet under his protection. At the same time, Rayje let the surrounding poorly-equipped colonies know that a new trade-center was available, and the rest was history. Rayje grew and, in a sense, flourished, becoming large and populous, but never outgrowing its dubious roots. After Rayje's death, different warlords fought over the planet, and bloody conflicts started across the planet and the sector, but on Rayje, and especially in the capital city of Vuun, business continued as usual. The chief black-market operators in the area soon partook in a coup using their own forces to capture and secure the fortress at Vuun, and the city itself. Driving out the current warlord, the marketeers soon negotiated truces with the rest, and proceeded to supply all sides in relative peace.

Vuun became the neutral zone, and members of all factions could be found wandering its unkempt streets and darkened alleys. Smugglers, bounty hunters, theives, professional and amateur murderers, and all sorts of unsavory characters traveled Vuun fearlessly, ignored by the meagre guard regiment the black-marketeers set up chiefly to safe-guard the city against attack from without. But beyond the scum and villany wandering the bazaars and seedy dives, there were also the timid and scared villagers and civilians from the outlying colonies who came here to resupply. These beings with their perpetually downcast eyes moved like sheep among slice hounds, cowering at any turned eye or casual sneer.

Still, the saddest sight among the decay and violence was to be found below eye-level. Urchins ran every-which way along the streets, and repeat visitors would note that it was not often that they would see the same ones. Children abandoned, unwanted and uncared for were left to fend for themselves in the dirties corners of Vuun. The weak died out, were picked up by slaver runs, or joined a warlord as grunts and were never seen again anyway. The strong..?

Death was born one day in the darkness of Vuun, but it did not know consciousness until one painful day when it woke up alone, cold, and hungry, with nothing and no one around.

Just a cold, huddled boy of no more than four years, looking around himself and seeing darkness.

That boy emerged from the darkness, old tears dried in soot-stained tunnels down his cheeks. It would be many years before he cried again, but after all, Death knows little of emotion.

Despite everything, there was some hierarchy for even street children to survive; gangs of these urchins roamed the streets, picking up the young boys that they found that could be put to use. These little ones were taught to steal and sent out onto the street, to return with their earnings and a cut for the older boys. Rambling on, cold and hungry, the boy soon saw and met more of his kind, who offered him food in exchange for service.

This is how Death began Life, a tiny wandering thief in a city of giants, his survival anything but guaranteed. But, Death's consciousness began to grow, and things began to make sense. And, either through diseased hope or some mysterious foresight in his soul, the boy could feel that Fate had more than just servitude in store for his future.

* * * * *

Years passed.

The boy survived.

From the pettiest of thefts that those above him could send him on, the boy found his 'expendable' hands stuck into tiny cubbyholes and hard to reach places. The youngest boys were used as lookouts or retreivers, and Death did these things as well as any, and so continued living. As he aged, Death soon found his own abilities growing as his body did. The tasks became harder, and the boy moved up. From nearly insignificant he grew to a meddlesome little thief, and then an organizer of other boys. This was his life, and as he aged, he learned to live it to the best of his abilities, and most of all, to live it well enough to survive.

The child gangs still worked out of poverty, but the boy earned enough to eat, and his body grew, bigger and taller than the other boys. All the while, this twisted life continued, and the days passed.

Soon though, the boy got older, and began to have aspirations of his own. Approaching ten and eleven, the boy knew he would soon be old enough to be observed by the true thieves in Vuun. And, while it was every boy's dream to one day make it off the wretched rock of Rayje and on to greener pastures, each ambition boy knew what the next step was that could take them there. For Death, this step lay through a human named Telfass Dire. Tall and brooding, the wiry Dire had a look of dark wisdom in his eyes, and his years echoed in the wrinkles on his forhead and arms. Wings of gray dashed through his opressively dark hair, which lay haphazardly across the man's head, angling in all directions. A raven-like sharp nose took mastery over the man's face, creating the true impression of a bird of prey, and the man's loose-fitting non-descrepit brown clothes betrayed nothing of his physique or carriage.

Telfass' appearance didn't have to betray much though, because his walk gave away the rest. At least enough to matter, and Telfass' fluidity of motion was a sure sign of not-only a combat tested elder, but an agile one at that.

Despite the danger that oozed off of Telfass in dark roiling waves, the man was surprisingly always nice to the urchin gangs, often giving on small tasks to the older boys in the group, and sometimes helping out the younger boys with some food or direction. What the older boys knew as they gazed at Telfass' serene visage as he gave some bread to a youngster, was that he was not just an ordinary kind man on Vuun; there were none of those. Telfass Dire was a gateway into the one institution on the planet that had gotten its name past the toxin-filled atmosphere of Rayje, and even beyond the reaches of the Aerit System and the Outer Rim itself, inspiring respect among a certain contingent through the well-known galaxy.

The Thieves Guild on Vuun was a curse-word that had spread quickly as the Guild established itself, to the point that even an well to-do art director on Coruscant, upon seeing his museum robbed and hearing the word 'Vuun,' knows with a sinking feeling that he will never see his art again. The Vuun Guild was well known because it trained some of the best thieves in the galaxy, many of whom later specialized into assassins, treasure-hunters, and politicians. As for Telfass Dire, he was a special case. The brooding man was more than just an affectionate stranger, he was a recruited for the Guild who searched the urchin street-gangs every year for a viable candidates. The older boys knew that when they reached a certain age, they became game for Telfass' recruitment, and each time around a competition was held. The boys that were sought out and accepted found themselves competing with about nine other boys for a single spot to be taken under Telfass' wing. Dire set them to a few tasks, and those that survived or succeeded where eventually pared down until there was only one winner.

There came a day, when the boy was about ten, and tall for his age, that the kindly Telfass Dire approached him with those blazing, dead eyes of his, and asked him if he would like to try to perform a few personal tasks for Dire. If he was willing to compete with some other boys in a test of their skills as street urchins for an unspecified prize. The boy knew though, from having been around, exactly what that prize was.

Death knew what it wanted.

"Good," said an ever-serene Telfass Dire to the boy's inevitable response, "Now then, young one, what is your name?"

"Name?" The boy grimaced, not knowing, and yet not willing to give Telfass any of the stupidly childish nicknames he had used in the past years.

"Yes, boy, your name... What shall I call you?" The dark man waited.

The boy opened his mouth, then paused, seemed about to speak, them paused again. Faint threads flowed together, distant neurons sparked and connected over expansive divides, and the boy opened his mouth once more.

His voice distant, uncertain, "I think... Tryce..." The boy stopped again, this times his eyes snapping forward, and rising to meet the imposing gaze and beak of the raven.

"Tryce, sir. My name is Deranz Tryce." The young voice was solid and unwavering, and the raven smiled.

"Good. Deranz." Telfass said, "You have a day's rest. Come see me tomorrow at nightfall behind the Dark Moon cantina. Rest well though, you have much to do."

The boy, Death, Deranz, nodded, no smile on his face, no glimmer of hope in his eye. Vuun did that to even children, and all that was left in the boy's soul was a burning desire to succeed and win, and the knowledge that he would, by all means in his power, accomplish his goal.

Watching Telfass turn and walk away, his glide purposeful and strong, Deranz knew he didn't have a choice. Death knew he would win.

* * * * *
'And So it Goes'
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Post by Jack_Sigma »

The alley behind the Dark Moon was bathed in shadows, and the light that did penetrate its depths had a reddish hue to it. Light and shadow mixed together to resemble a bloody mist that further served to make the alley as unnecessarily dark and foreboding as possible. Deranz knew this, because this had been the place of some of the street children's first tests and contests; it was a frightening place for young children at night, and even grown men finding themsevles there would clutch at their cloaks with unnatural nervousness. As expected, nine other children stood in the alley, their appearances ranging from ready to soil themselves to steely calm. Deranz recognized a few in their midst, and quickly tried to chalk up his competition. He was easily one of the biggest boys there, despite being probably one of the youngest ones, but he knew that some of the other ones were smart.

One boy in particular caught his attention, and with a half-smile Deranz found himself walking over to a boy that he actually knew, someone from his own part of the slums.

"How ya doin', Nezzie?" Deranz chided, giving the other boy a friendly smack on the back. Nezzie turned slowly to regard Deranz; A little shorter than Deranz, Nezzie had a lean body that a trained mother or slaver would easily point to as a sign of a natural-born runner. Precocious and extremely smart for his age, Nezeliezer, or 'Nezzie' as his friends called him was as ambitious a young boy as could be found. He and Deranz had quickly become friends upon meeting, and had found their niche as one of the better thieving teams in their slum. Deranz was big for his age, and readily able to defend Nezzie from scraps with the other boys, and Nezzie had a very quick mind in all situations, which came in just as handy as Deranz' muscles. This isn't to say that Deranz wasn't smart or that Nezeliezer couldn't handle himself in a fight, just that together the two complemented each other exceedingly well, and had much success as a team, frustrating merchants, guards, and even a few Hunters who had had a little too much hard drink.

"Deranz," the other said, his equally lean face breaking into a brief smile, "I had been wondering when you would show up, I couldn't imagine that Telfass wouldn't ask you here."

"I was hoping you'd be here too, but you never can be sure what these Guild types will think," Deranz replied with a shrug.

A haughty laugh escaped Nezzie's lips, a laugh that was surprisingly sincere in arrogance for such a young boy, "Of course both of us would be here. You know the reputation that's around town about the two of us. He'll want both of us, you know. The Guild isn't stupid, our reputation alone around here would serve as incentive for the Guild to take us, to keep up their image of recruiting the elite."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Nezz... I'm ready to admit that we were probably the best in the slums, but the Guild doesn't give a vornt's nose for our 'reputation.' They're known galaxy-wide... professional thieves come here asking to be let in, and have been rejected or worse. We're just kids in the slum, but I think Dire knows how to find talent, and where. Plus, the word is that he only takes one kid, anyway. We're probably competeing against each other." Deranz sighed, and took another glance around the alley.

Some of the other boys had clustered together, and the blood-mist still lay over the ground, but Telfass was still nowhere to be found.

Nezzie's voice snapped Deranz' attention back forward, "Don't be stupid Deranz, you may be right about their reputation, but don't sell ourselves short too. As for the competition, take a look at those other kids. They're stupid... you know that for the older ones they know they won't get another chance, they'll be too old next year if they survive this competition. The others... well, they're banthas... herd animals, grunts, unable to form their own proactive thoughts. They're not like us Deranz... We'll take care of them first, like we always do, and when it comes down to it, if we have to compete, well.. we'll just see who wins."

Deranz laughed, "Yeah, funny enough I was thinking the same thing... you see the dark glances the older kids are throwing around, especially at us." Not bothering to hide his motions, Deranz pointed out a few boys, "That's Grish, and the rodian's Bii'jo... they're hoodlums from the southern side, and I'm sure they recognize us. They don't look like they're going to try to out-run or out-think anyone."

"Lucky for them the rules don't care."

The voice came out of the blood-mist right behind Nezzie and Deranz, and both couldn't help but jump as a figure faded in from the shadows. His coarse brown cloak gone, Telfass Dire was wearing black from head to toe, and imposing black at that. His raven's beak and burning coals of eyes were the only parts of him that were exposed, sticking out above a black bandana covering the Dire's mouth and neck.

Speaking again, this time Dire's voice boomed out across the hush of the alley, filling it, yet seeming to not go beyond the bounds of the shadows.

"You're all here. Good."

The man paused, looking around the ten boys assembled before him. His gaze swept over them once, then twice.

"You, and you," said Dire, pointing to two boys whose stances and expressions betrayed their nervousness, "Go home, you're done."

Looking around once more, Dire nodded,

"I don't know what you might have been thinking coming here, but understand that my time is money, so I don't have time to sith around with all you brats. What I will ask you will take tonight, and whoever of you succeeds or survives will come with me for further trials. Note I said succeeds or survives, I don't really care which. If any of you want to leave, knowing that you may be dead tomorrow, feel free."

Deranz and Nezzie stood stock still, their eyes searching the faces of their competiton. Mean faces, stupid faces, and even one or two with the possible flicker of intelligence in their eyes. Smug on the inside, Deranz and Nezzie looked back to Telfass, whose burning coals seared deep into their souls, as if seeing the smugness. And, for a second it almost seemed as if a smile formed behind his black mouth-wrap. For a second.

"Good. There are eight of you left, and you all have one mission. There's a local marketeer politician that has been pleading a case to the Market Council to look into the Guild's activity on Vuun, and the possibility regaining some of the turf the Guild claimed. You kids are going to sneak past his guards into his compound, and we want a certain document hidden in his desk. If the politician dies, we don't care, but it's not necessary, the only necessity is the document. If he's dead by your hand and you don't have the paper, don't come back. You'll be dead too, either us, or we'll hand you back to the Marketeers."

"There are no guidelines. We don't care how you do it. Finally, success is the necessity. We don't have to test any of you any further. You can be the last one alive, but if you don't have the document, we couldn't care less."

"Understood?"

The way Telfass said the last word showed that there shouldn't have been need for questions. What followed was the politicians name and the location of his compound. Telfass turned and walked back into the blood-mist, only calling one more thing over his shoulder.

"Be back here when you win. If you don't... don't come back."

As Dire disappeared, Nezzie and Deranz shared a smile, and before any of the other boys could get any ideas about limiting the field of competition early, the two took off speeding into the darkness beyond the alleyway.
'And So it Goes'
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Post by Jack_Sigma »

"So how are we going to get over the wall?" Deranz spoke the words almost to himself, as he and Nezeliezer crouched at the mouth of an alley across the street from the compound that they were supposed to infiltrate. Imposing stone walls encircled the compound, with only a single remote-operated gate to gain entrance. Outside the walls there was no activity beyond the regular street activity, and at that time of night, there was nobody walking the streets in this part of town. It was doubtless that there were camera's staring at the street and rooves in the area, afraid of thieves and assassins. It really appeared that entrance to the compound was all but impossible.

"Look closer, Deranz," Nezz said from his left side, and quietly passed along a small macro-binocular that the boys had once lifted from a hapless theatre-goer. Even on Vuun they had theatres; it was amazing how much civilization could be found in such an uncivilized place.

Putting the binoculars to his eyes, Deranz zoomed in on the wall, looking for trap-doors or other entrances. Seeing nothing for a few seconds, he began to grow frustrated, until suddenly he saw it.

"The wall..." Deranz started, and couldn't help but smile a bit. What he had seen in much closer detail was the wall itself. A construction of solid stone, it was clear that the career politician who occupied this mini-fortress in the middle of Vuun had not owned it initially. He had probably taken it as booty over some assassinated or exiled competitor, but it was clear that the house had been standing there for much longer than the politician had been doing business on Vuun. In fact, the house could have been a leftover of Rayje's original city, but none of this mattered. What did matter, is that the solid wall was in fact old, and pock-marked, with crumbling bits of rock all over its outer side. The wall was thick and therefore still perfectly solid, most likely why the politician/marketeer had not decided to fix it. Whichever way you looked at his professions, both were stingy with anything but luxury and necessity.

"No wonder Dire picked this to be the mission for the slum-kids," Deranz mused as he kept examining the wall, "Those holes will be perfect hand-holds for us, but I bet that any grown-up's hands wouldn't fit, and more than that, the outer rock would probably break off under the weight. As for us..."

"You looking for the best place to get up?" Nezz asked with a little impatience.

"Yeah, checking out to see where the cameras are, we could probably sneak under their sight if we stick real close to the wall, I'm just looking for a place we can cross the street." Deranz replied.

"I've got a place to cross," Nezz said, getting Deranz' attention and pointing out a cobbled walkway a little further down the street that had been hedged with small plants, only a few feet in height. At one point part of the path went a few feet along the wall to the compound, and it was there that Deranz diverted his attention.

"Great, and I see a place to get up that doesn't seem to be covered by cameras," Deranz added, pointing a stretch of wall that was at a corner, in between two cameras facing different directions. All this would only be accomplishable because of the boys' size. They would crawl under the hedge, sneak across the wall, and then climb up and over.

The first obstacle planned out, Deranz and Nezeliezer turned to go when something whistled out of the darkness and struck Nezzie in the side of the head, sending the boy tumbling to the ground. He struck it with a thud, and remained motionless on the ground, a bottle rolling along the ground next to him. Deranz jumped around to face the direction the bottle had come from, and steeled himself to face whoever emerged into the alley.

Deranz could not have been less surprised when Grish and the rodian Bii'jo stepped into the alleyway, brandishing two metal clubs from some wrecked speeder.

"Ooh, your friend seems to have taken a bit of a fall, runt," Grish said with a sneer on his face, "I don't know who you runts think you are, but if you come out of tonight alive, it'll only be cuz me and 'jo let you."

"Y-yea!" The rodian snickered, "Y-you runts were starin' at that wall an aweful long time! Seems to us you figured something out."

"Now," Grish started, as if the boys were some deranged twins, each finishing the others' sentances, and trading off lines interchangeably, "You tell us what that is, and how we can get into that compound, and we'll let you two live? As long as you go home, of course."

"Of course!" added Bii'jo, wanting the last word in this short dialogue.

Deranz in his limited years of life had already had a chance to meet a fair amount of stupid people. A fair amount of really stupid people. Glancing at Nezzie, who still lay motionless on the ground, Deranz' eyes quickly searched his head for bleeding, then looked back up, satisfied. If anything, Nezzie wasn't seriously hurt, and would be able to finish the night's mission. Content in this fact, Deranz mind turned back to the problem at hand.

Despite the other boys' being older by about two or three years, Deranz was a big boy for his age, and would continue to be so for the rest of his life. Even in his present youth, he was as big as either of the two boys he faced. The only problem was the lack of a weapon, and Deranz wasn't yet willing to pull out his ace in the hole.

"Let me just check on my friend, and I'll tell you everything," Deranz shook out in a terrified voice. Inside he winced, thinking that he had overdone it, and the other boys would see his duplicity, but their vanity had them in too deep to see through even so transparent of a ruse. They waved him to do it with their clubs, and as Deranz knelt next to Nezzie and put left hand on his head, his right reached for the bottle next to Nezzie and sent it flying into the air towards the boys.

The action took too long, and by the time the bottle was in the air, even the stupid boys' limited intellect recognized it, and Grish's metal club swung out and knocked the bottle off to one side. Triumphant and blazingly angry, Grish was about to make some comment that he thought would be witty, before beating the life out of this runt in front of him. But, while the boys' brains had processed the bottle, the action of hitting it took a little too much mental energy, and Grish didn't see Deranz flying towards him behind the bottle.

As Grish swung, and the bottle went flying, his chest was left unprotected for an instant, and Bii'jo was too stunned to do anything about it. Deranz barrelled with all his might into Grish, sending the older boy flying down to the ground in a heap. Using the element of suprise and the fact that Grish had had the wind knocked out of him, Deranz kneed him a few times while they were on the ground, and grasped a firm hold on the metal club in Grish's hand. For some reason, Grish had enough presence of mind left to keep a vicious grip on the club, and Deranz looked up just in time to see Bii'jo's club swinging down towards his head.

Cursing his weakness, Deranz had just enough time to let go of the club and dive back, as Bii'jo's weapon came down and smacked Grish, who had been underneath Deranz, squarely in the knee. An unearthly scream erupted out of the boy, but while Deranz tried to use this to his advantage, he jumped forward only to find that Bii'jo was ignoring his comrade's plight and still coming forward. Barely avoiding the swipe of the metal club that he had thrown himself at, Deranz found himself taking a shoulder to the chest, and then a fist to the head. Stumbling back from the force of Bii'jo's hit, Deranz found himself back against a wall, the rodian brandishing his club with malice, an alien expression of blood-lust and hate on the rodian's face. Frantically looking for an escape, Deranz watched as the rodian lifted his club, waiting to see which way it would swing before jumping.

Suddenly, the rodian echoed his companion's unearthly scream, and collapsed to the ground, clutching desperately at his left knee, which was now spilling blood all over the ground.

Nezeliezer stood behind the boy with a vibro-knife, looking quite grim.

Deranz looked at the rodian crying with pain on the ground and almost felt a moment of pity. He looked at Nezeliezer sternly and was about to say something, but the words died on his lips. The rodian was about to kill him. What Nezeliezer did was merciful in comparison with what he could've done, sneaking up behind Bii'jo that way.

The stern look faded and turned to a smile, "Thanks."

Nezzie looked sheepish for a second, something that rarely ever happened. Then he smile, another rare event, "No problem, same to you."

Deranz nodded, "You alright?"

Nezeliezer nodded back, "Yeah, I'll be fine, but this little scuffle wasted our time, we gotta hurry, we have no idea if the other guys found a different way into this place."

Getting up and brushing himself off, Deranz steeled himself with the knowledge that this was only the beginning of a long night, and silently went off into the night with Nezeliezer, wondering, fearing, and looking forward to what was to come.
'And So it Goes'
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Post by Jack_Sigma »

* * * * *

Crouching down to take a breather in one of the back hallways of the compound, Deranz couldn't help but think how many odd turns there had been in the night's plan. Now, Nezzie sat next to him, breathing hard and staring into nothing, intent on preparing himself mentally for the final stage of the plan, the stage that promised to be the hardest.

It had been easy getting over the wall, especially after the scuffle with the other boys had Deranz and Nezzie both pumped full of adrenaline. The boys had just begun congratulating themselves for their smarts as they reached the top of the wall, and, taking a look around, started climbing down. A quick climb and a few foot drop, and the boys were in one of the courtyards of the compound.

A pleasant lawn decorated this courtyard, with a few walkways among flower beds that had obviously not been watered in some time. A few trees dotted the landscape, trees native to Rayje, but none looked that old, cleaerly a recent planting project by the marketeer that lived there to make his property appear more respectable. The trees were a blessing to the boys, who snuck from tree to tree, approaching the house as carefully as possible.

They were halfway across the yard when they heard shouts behind them,

"Hey! You kids! Stop right there, you little brats, or I'm going to blow you apart!!" The voice was gruff and distinctly not human, and Deranz and Nezzie froze in their tracks for only a split second, before taking off across the lawn, and diving behind the tree closest to the house. Expecting the tree to blow up any second from blaster fire, the boys finally got the nerve to look around it, and heard more shouts.

"I said don't move! Facha, grab those pipsqueaks!"

Frantically searching for Facha, the boys suddenly realized that the shouts weren't being screamed in their general direction. It seemed that they were emanating from just around the corner of the house, on the side that the gate was on. Unable to resist a certain morbid curiousity, Nezzie started sneaking from tree to tree, trying to gain a view of the next courtyard. Deranz tried to grab his friends' sleeve but missed, and had no choice but to follow, exasperated at Nezzie's boldness where it was not required.

Situating themselves in a small bush, the boys suddenly found that they had a perfect view of the scene in front of them.

It was not a pleasant one.

Facha... or at least the boys assumed it was Facha... held two of Deranz' and Nezeliezer's competitors, one in each hand. Facha himself was actually a Trandoshen, and not the nicest looking one in the world. His four-fingered grip was clearly putting the young boys in quite a bit of pain, and Deranz wasn't sure, but he thought that one of them had soiled themselves.

"Let's go, Nezzie!" Deranz whispered, anxious not to see what was going to happen to his competitors, and also anxious to get back to the job at hand, especially with such an excellent distraction.

"Wait!" Nezzie hissed back, "This could be important."

Deranz sighed but waited and watched, he was willing to let Nezzie test his theory, because the boy had been right on a number of other seemingly irrelevant or stupid things that turned out to have monumental importance.

Back in the front courtyard, Facha had brought the boys forward and been met by a mean-looking human in some sort of blast-vest, holding a rifle that looked just as vicious as the scarred face of the man himself. Poking first one boy with the barrel of his rifle, then the other, the unnamed man suddenly backhanded one of the boys across the face, so hard that the boy swung from side to side in the Trandoshen's grasp.

"Now tell me," the rasping voice began, "What are you doing here, you little brats?"

The boys were besides themselves at this point, crying so hard that they couldn't control their speech. The scarred man sneered, then lifted up his rifle to one's stomach, and pulled the trigger. The boy's chest exploded out his back, and the Trandoshen dropped the wreck of a body. The other boy had stopped crying from shock.

"Now, I'll ask you again, unless you want to end up like your friend..." This time, the boy began blubbering again, but instead of nonsense syllables, the kid was trying to spill his guts as much as possible about the mission Telfass Dire had given them, and their goals on the night. Deranz felt disgusted, he would rather have died than cried like a baby, then betrayed his honor, and then begged for mercy. He was sure that last bit would come, and just as he had predicted, the boy started begging as soon as he had shared all he could. The guard just growled, and motioned to the Trandoshen. The large reptile threw the boy in the air, and the guard blew him out of the sky with a single shot from his rifle.

Flinching, Deranz was about to turn away, but Nezeliezer still held him; there was more to be seen.

"Damn," the guard exclaimed, "So the Guild has sent a bunch of brats after us. They can't be serious. No, I'm sure this 'Telfass Dire' character is just using these half-wit urchins as a diversion."

Here, the guard pulled out his comm-link, "Gates to central..." The link responded, "Central here,"

"Central, there's a possible infiltration by a Thieves Guild agent or assassin. Double the guardsmen around the Minister's chambers and office, and keep a close eye on him for now, understand?" Gates paused, "Oh yeah, and if you see any urchins, shoot on sight, understood?"

A staticy crackle, "Yes sir, understood."

Now, Nezzie grabbed Deranz, and they stealthily sneaked away from their observation post. Making a slow and cautious way around the house, the boys found a basement window that they were small enough to crawl through, after prying it open from the outside with a few tools the two had brought with them for the night.

Now, quietly exiting the room, the boys paused in the hallway heading upstairs to the main floor to take a breather. There were no cameras in sight, and as much as the young boys wouldn't admit it, the sight of Gates unconcernedly shooting two young kids had unnerved them both. Despite all that the two had seen in their lives, they were still children.

Still, Nezzie and Deranz now found themselves in a tough predicament, and both of them knew this. Because of their 'compatriots' blunder, the guards on the office and the bedroom of the Minister were now vigilent and twice as numerous. Besides this, while Telfass had given the boys a vague idea of where they office was... and guaranteed that the document was in the office... they didn't know exactly where they had come in at, or how to find this office.

"Now what?" Deranz said, feeling that they had rested long enough, and knowing that time had just become a factor.

Nezzie remained silent, lost in thought. Deranz reflected as well. If there were only some way for the two of them to get around the house without being seen or detected.

"Vents..?" Nezzie mused out-loud through his pondering.

"No," Deranz replied, "Too much noise, and I'm sure they'll be waiting for it now that they know kids might be around."

"Then how..."

Nezzie's words reflected what both boys felt, and Deranz couldn't help but wondering if they had reached a dead end because of the others' stupidity. It would've all been for nothing; the fight in the alley, the crawl across that ancient walkway, the climb up the crumbling wall, the explicit show in the garden...

Suddenly, it all started making sense to Deranz. Ancient walkway, crumbling wall...

"Hey Nezzie, remember that story that Telfass always used to tell us? The one about the Firemoon compound he once robbed blind in a single hour, getting in and out through fifty guards and an outside wall without being seen once?" Deranz started, his voice full of fire.

"A little, but you know I barely paid attention to those stories..." Nezzie stopped and let Deranz go on, hearing the fever in his voice and realizing he may have discovered something.

"Yeah, you didn't pay attention, but I did! Telfass said that the whole reason that his ploy worked was because the Firemoon compound was old, probably as old as Vuun itself!" At Nezzie's half-nod of rememberance, Deranz went on, "The way he got in and out, was that he had found the intial plans for the compound and discovered that most of the original compounds on Vuun were built with secret passageways that would allow the resident to escape to outside the walls, should his compound come under attack. He mentioned that the tunnels went throughout the house, and that entrance could be gained from a few main rooms on each floor."

Even Nezzie's dark eyes looked excited, "I remember! But was it true? I mean, you're right, this compound is really that old, so it's possible, but maybe he was just making it all up?"

"Too many things coming together... after all, does it seem strange to you that Telfass used to tell us these stories, and now we may possibly find a use for that knowledge." Deranz grimaced, "Too many coincidences, it almost feels like we're involved in some..."

"...test?" Nezzie finished the sentance for him, now grinning. "It really feels that way, doesn't it? Alright, let's look in the main basement room... I'm sure we can find an entrance..."

Surprisingly, it only took them another ten minutes to locate the door. It was well hidden, but once they knew they were looking for something out of the ordinary or some kind of possible opening, it wasn't that hard. It turned out to be a two hidden panels, one a foot above each other on a highly decorated portion of the basement wall. Deranz had to help Nezzie up on his hand and pushed him up to trigger the top panel, while he himself pushed at the bottom one. The boys lost their balance and toppled backwards, but the hidden doorway swished open and a heavy cloud of dust rose from the rusted sliders. Clearly this door hadn't been used in a while, as the basement room itself was nothing more than a store-room for old junk. Now grinning despite their bruises and bumps, the boys entered the passageway. It was time for the last stage of their test, and then... then the rest of their lives.
'And So it Goes'
Posts: 214
Joined: Sun Feb 16, 2003 1:07 pm

Post by Jack_Sigma »

*****

The entire time the boys made their way through the semi-illuminated secret corridors, the same thought kept repeating itself over and over in Deranz' head. It wasn't a thought that a boy as young as Deranz would normally be having, and especially in this situation. This close to victory, challenges overcome, it would be easy for a boy's mind to wander towards that victory. Images of freedom, and life with the Thieves Guild should have been dazzling Deranz' imagination and feeding his ego. This close, most boys would have nearly given in to exultation and joy.

Therein lies the reason why Deranz and Nezeliezer were where they were, and the other boys were left in messes all around the outside of the compound.

Only one thought ran through Deranz' head as the dusty stone-walled passageways with their eerie pale blue lights surrounded him and made him feel like he was in the endless tunnel into purgatory...

It can't be this easy...

But in fact, it just seemed to be so. Everything so far about this task had been tailored for the kids, every leap of imagination and faith turned out to be shorter than previously thought. Now, using whatever minimal training the boys had had from experience, and with the benefit of their small feet, the boys did their best to maintain perfect silence in their plodding. The walls did not rise that high, nor did the passageway allow too much in width. Grown men would have had to move through this passage in single file, and the thinner ones of the group might be able to slide past each other if they each pressed up tightly against the walls. For the boys, the passage was plenty big, but Deranz couldn't help noticing how depressing the lighting was. Evenly spaced at short intervals, pale blue glowlamps cast the entire passageway into a mellow haze. The air was stuffy and a little unpleasant to breathe, and it only took Deranz a minute or so to realize that this was because the entire passageway was sheathed in a perpetual dust cloud. The volume of dust in the air was most noticable near the glowlamps, where shifting blue clouds formed, twirling away haplessly with the air current, such as it was.

As the boys passed each lamp, Deranz in his concentration barely noticed as the dust particles under that lamp danced and swirled, their waltz disturbed by the boys' unforgiving gait. Wherever the boys passed, they left shifting chaos; it was almost as if the dust could fortell the future and the destinies of the two who passed.

It can't be this easy...

The passageway led to some stairs that lead from the basement level up, and then some more that led to the second floor of the compound. This is where the boys knew that the office would be. It was the same floor that the marketeer's bedroom was on, as well as several other rooms of import. Continuing their ascent, Nezzie quietly tapped Deranz on the shoulder and pointed with two fingers to his own nose, then made a slow and deliberate breathing gesture. Deranz nodded; he had noticed it too. As the passage would up from the basement, some of the layers of dust floating in it had disappeared, and while the blue glowlamps remained, breathing had become much easier and more pleasant. As nice of a reprieve as this was from struggling not to cough on the lower level, it could only mean one thing: this part of the tunnels was still in use.

Periodically, a shaft of light could be seen to penetrate the tunnel's haze horizontally across, creating a barrier of light across the tunnel. These were the peepholes into the different rooms of the house that had access to the tunnel system. On the inside of the tunnel, there were no hidden panels, but instead a single lever in the wall next to a small peephole, which one can assume was fastiduously hidden on the other side. It was an intelligent design, allowing the tunnels' user to wisely examine a room he was entering before making the committment and revealing himself. For Deranz and Nezzie, this would be priceless. Every time the boys passed a shaft of light they would glance in, to make sure that they had not passed the office yet, and to assess the situation in the house. Since the tunnel only had entrances into the largest rooms in the house, most of the views were elaborately decorated halls and guest rooms, with little activity in them. Only one room on the first floor proved of interest, and only because a few guards were having a conversation that was pertinent.

Not wishing to delay, the boys kept moving, but snatches of the guards' talk followed them down the hallway,

"...found two more who had gotten over the wall into the courtyard..."

"...extra patrol picked them up..."

"...what's the Guild thinking, anyway, kids..?"

On their way up to the second floor, Nezzie and Deranz exchanged meaningful glances. The last two had been caught, the competition was finished. Now all that remained was to sneak into the office, grab that document, and make their way out through these same tunnels, which, had the boys gone the other way from the basement, emerged somewhere in an alley across the street. Another bar of light awaited the boys, the first one on the second floor. Glancing in first, Nezzie then waved Deranz to look. The large polished wooden desk stood exactly where Dire had said it would be, and the walls of the poshly decorated office were covered in exotic art, and strange trophies. From the collected of animal skulls in a display case that Deranz could see from the peephole, it appeared that the marketeer was an avid hunter. And, despite his lack of knowledge, Deranz had the sinking suspicion that one of the skulls on display may have very well been human.

What Deranz didn't know was that this was the skull of the previous man to hold the politician/marketeer's post in the organization that ran Vuun. After having dishonored and disgraced him before the head Council of Vuun, the marketeer had had the man and his family assassinated, and kept the skull in his trophy case to warn upstart members of his organization, some of whom were as ambitious as he once had been. What Deranz also didn't know was that the rest of the skulls in the case, while real, had not been acquired by the politician himself, but rather paid for. The man liked to present a rougher image of himself than was true, and the case of skulls was always intimidating to first-time visitors to the man's office.

The room seemed to be have some grand throw-rug down, and was finally topped off by the large bay window on one side of the office that looked out, over the compound wall, and towards the fortress of Vuun. The view at this time of night was imposing, with the artificial lights of Vuun casting the fortress in weak contrast to the night sky. At night, the great structure was more a spectre, at one with the dark.

All this Deranz took in from his position at the peephole, but he took in one more very important thing: the office was completely empty. Nudging Nezzie to verify this, the other boy nodded.

It can't be this easy...

Deranz took a deep breath, and pulled the lever.

The door swung up, and at first the boys didn't move. The room was, in fact, empty, but it took the boys a few seconds to gather themselves and slowly step into the room.

Deranz barely heard the faint beep, but he did, and his eyes ran up to a light above the main door to the office, which was now blinking red.

"Frell, an alarm," hissed out Deranz, as he sprinted towards the office door, quickly fiddling with the door mechanism to lock the thing from the inside. At the same time, Nezzie had hurried to the desk, and was already in the process of tearing through the drawers to find the document. They knew it was available in hard-copy and hard-copy only because the Guild had already tried hacking the politicians databases and private net, and found nothing. It seemed that the man was cautious enough to know that such a touchy bit of information needed to be kept hard, and close.

Nezzie cursed. "It isn't here," he spat, and kept looking, his actions now faster and starting to get a little more frantic in nature. Telfass Dire had told the boys exactly where the document would be, in a hidden drawer underneath the true bottom left drawer of the desk. Now, as Deranz approached, Nezzie had the secret drawer pried open, and all its contents spilled out on the floor.

"Other drawers?" Deranz suggested as he and Nezzie dove in with renewed fervor to find the paper. Their luck didn't improve though, and shouts in the corridor made both boys realize that their time was up. Next came banging on the door, followed by the sound of blasters. Wondering why the guards didn't use the marketeer's key to open the door, Deranz realized that the man was probably still hiding under guard, most likely in his own quarters, which were further down the secret tunnel on the second floor.

As the shots against the door increased in number, and the metal door started to glow with the combined heat of the blasts, Deranz next revelation struck him like a thunderclap.

"Frelling morons!" Deranz moaned, "They raised the alert because the Guild was coming, what's the first thing this guy would do, probably knowing the reason for the Guild's coming here?"

Nezzie looked up and his eyes met Deranz', the curse was evident on his lips, and the fury in his eyes at not having made this simple realization. He didn't explode though, simply glanced at the door, then back to Deranz.

"No time, we can't have more than another minute or so..." Nezzie glanced around, then quickly pocketed a datapad that was on the table, as well as some decorative pens, "Quick, steal something and lets go."

Deranz nodded, they hadn't failed yet, but it was suddenly a looming possibility. At least he'd grab something worth selling so that this trip would be worth a meal tomorrow. Grabbing a decorative weight on the desk, Deranz tossed it through the glass of the display case. Snatching a few things that looked like jewelry, Deranz hand hovered over one more thing, then decisively grabbed it, and ran back into the passageway, Nezzie close on his heels. Grabbing the lever and closing the door, the boys found themselves alone in the tunnel, finally hearing the door to the office explode open inside.

There was no time to rest though, nor discuss more possibilities. As much as both boys' hearts yearned to keep going down the second floor passageway to the politicians bedroom, both knew that there was no point entertaining certain death, when they could always still make their living on the street the next day. At that age, neither was yet in a position to break into a room full of guards and kill all of them with blinding speed and deadly accuracy. And so, the boys had to run.

Nothing is ever easy.

Deranz had made it a few steps down the tunnel when he suddenly stopped at turned back to the shaft of light behind them. Grabbing hold of the last item he had picked up, Deranz raised it and squeezed the trigger on the hunting blaster that he had stolen from the marketeer's trophy case. Bright light and harsh sound exploded into the boy's world, but when the afterimage faded, there was little left of the tunnel level and mechanism than a melted panel.

Nezzie looked and nearly smacked himself again for not taking care to remember that the guards probably knew about this part of the tunnels, and would have followed them.

There was no time for berating himself though, and both boys took off at a dead run down the tunnel, knowing that it wouldn't take the guards long to cycle back into the marketeer's bed-chamber and enter the tunnel from there, only a little further down the tunnel from where Deranz and Nezzie currently were.

The boys sprinted, Nezzie gaining a lead of a few paces on Deranz, by virtue of being the better runner, and for a few seconds it almost felt like they'd be able to get to the outside exit without incident.

A second later, Nezzie and Deranz rounded a corner, and Nezzie nearly flew right into the back of a man. The man turned, and simply by stature and carriage, the boys realized at once that this was the marketeer himself. Not attractive in the slightest, the man's pockmarked face and overbearing brows gave him the appearance of a simple thug, an appearance that was quickly shattered by the shining intelligence in his eyes, and the aura of arrogance that surrounded him. Dark hair lay closely on the man's head, and his thick lips glistened with saliva, bringing to mind disturbing images of a Hutt. Still, one thing was evident: the man was probably a coward, and the sweat stains on his well-tailored attire attested to that.

Unfortunately for the boys, the man's fear extended to Telfass Dire, who he thought was coming to kill him. Little kids did little to inspire terror in him, and as he turned at the sound of the pattering of little feet, the man found himself face to face with two kids, one of whom barely managed to stop short right in front of him. Anger welling up inside the man, he motioned off the two guards now behind him who had been leading his exodus from his compound, and with his other hand, delivered a full backhand into Nezeliezer's face. The marketeer wasn't slight of build though, and despite being a coward was a fairly big man. His blow sent Nezzie flying across the tunnel in the wall one one side, and the bounced off and hit the ground.

Spittle now distinct on the marketeers jutting upper lip, the man spoke, his voice rasping and strained,

"So it's for two kids that I'm forced to flee from my own home in the middle of the night??" A vein had popped out in his forhead, and proceeded to throb as he went one, taking a menacing step towards Deranz, "Who the FRELL does the Guild think I am? And who the Sithspit do they think they're joking with? I'll have the entire Thieves Guild chased down and killed!! I'll..."

In the time that the marketeer rambled, Deranz had a very important decision to make. He was about to do something he had never done before, and as little time as he had to think, he like to think things through. Nezzie lay on the ground, still breathing, and clearly conscious, but the wind had been knocked out of him, and he struggled to at least rise to his knees as blood trickled from his nose and lip.

As the marketeer screamed, his courage out in full when faced with two young, harmless boys, Deranz realized he had no choice at all. Seeing the smug smiles of the guards standing single-file behind the marketeer, and the narrowness of the passage for the adults, Deranz even hoped that he might survive.

The marketeer took another step forward, and the boy quickly raised the blaster he had held behind his back and opened fire. The kick from the blaster after the firest few shots sent Deranz down on his back, but the boy would not stop squeezing the trigger, holding his head up and refusing to stop shooting down the hall. It was Nezzie's hand on his ankle that finally made Deranz stop, his vision nearly obliterated by the after-image from all the shots. The hallway was now filled with smoke and the smell of burnt flesh, but was otherwise empty, other than three bodies that lay in heaps on the ground, varying levels of surprise portrayed on each face. As Nezzie rushed to the body of the marketeer and began searching his bloody corpse, Deranz simply stood up, the blaster feeling very heavy in his hand.

He had taken a life for the first time, and his first time had been three, not one death. The situation somewhat made it better, but Deranz' eyes still seemed to glaze with moisture for a second. One blink, and the moisture was gone, as if it had never been. In its place were the same intelligent eyes as before, except now with a bit of greater depth, as if the lost souls of his first victims had left a deep mark on Deranz. In his reverie, Deranz now noticed Nezzie excitedly waving something in his face, but his words were hard to make out with ears still ringing from the roar of blaster-fire.

Deranz snapped out of it.

Nezeliezer had secured the document.

The boys had succeeded.

Taking off at a dead run once more, the boys ran over the bodies of the dead guards without even searching them for money or jewelry, and, being already in the basement, quickly found themselves approaching the end of their dull blue tunnel, which stank of death and blood. Voices echoed down the tunnel behind them, but the boys were already at the final door. Reaching for the last lever as a drowning man would clutch at that last bit of flotsam, the boys suddenly exploded out onto the street and kept running. They didn't bother to try to close or lock the tunnel exit behind them, which had come out of some building wall in an alleyway. They were back in the slums now. They were back in their territory, and there was no chance that the guards of the dead politician would be able to find two street urchins in the slums. There was even a question as to if they'd want to or not, seeing as the man paying them was now dead.

Still, running through the cool night, the colors in the darkness seeming more vivid, the sweet fragrance of fresh polluted air being gulped compulsively into burning lungs, Deranz' mind only had one thought, which it ran in a repetitive loop as his feet took one step after another to carry him back to Telfass Dire, and freedom.

It was that easy...

And, sharing a laugh with Nezzie, Deranz kept running.
'And So it Goes'
Posts: 214
Joined: Sun Feb 16, 2003 1:07 pm

Post by Jack_Sigma »

*****

Telfass Dire awaited the boys in the same hazy alleyway where they had started their journey what seemed like an eternity ago. The reddish tint still remained in the alley, but as the sky began to take on its first pastal colors signifying the approach of a new day, the blood-like haze became more rosy in hue. For the triumphant boys, it was almost as if a carpet of roses had been laid out for them by providence itself. The only thing that ruined this vivid image was Telfass Dire himself, standing in the center of the alley, a dark monolith that seemed to absorb the surrounding light into itself like a black hole, creating an aura of darkness around the man.

Seeing the boys, Telfass nodded, then sneered,

"So both of you survived," the raven-faced man's voice dripped of scorn, and for a second the boys, expecting to be treated like kinds, were taken aback by his coldness, "You have the document?"

Courage restored by the certainty of their success, Nezeliezer nodded, pulling the paper from his inside pocket, "We have it. We'd like to hear what we have won though, before we give it to you." His voice was fairly steady, and became stronger with each word, but a child-like cautiousness still tempered his inflection.

Dire's sharp bark of a laugh made both boys flinch a bit, as the raven's eyes speared each of them in turn, "Here is where you have made your mistake, little ones. I do not believe I ever mentioned anything about the possibility of a 'we' winning. You know what your prize is, but we're not taking more than one of you into the Guild. You have the document now, Nezeliezer, and if you hand it to me, you win. Deranz, if you think you can get it from him, you're welcome to try, but once the paper is in my hand, whoever handed it to me comes with me, while the other..." Dire chuckled again, "I couldn't care less what happens to the other one, that's already none of my business."

Deranz and Nezzie's eyes locked, shock evident on both their faces. To have come so far, and win only through teamwork and remarkable luck, and now to have to fight each other? Slowly, Deranz shook his head. It couldn't come down to this, it couldn't.

He knew that he boys had discussed the possibility of there being only one winner, but now that it came time, he was sure that Telfass would have taken both of them because of their success. Something nagged at the back of Deranz' head, but he was too distraught to pay attention to it.

"And what if we decide to keep the document, and sell it back to the Vuun Council?" Nezzie spoke up, his eyes as distracted as Deranz', but his voice no longer holding that childish tremble, "I'm sure they could set us up for some time."

"Come boys," Dire said, almost pleasantly, "Do you really believe that you could leave this alleyway alive with that document? After all the effort to acquire it, you really think I'd let it walk away from me with some kid?"

Deranz sighed, then spoke, "No."

It wasn't an answer to Dire's rhetorical questions, it was an imperative statement.

"No," Deranz repeated again, stronger, as his hand went back to the blaster that was sitting in the boy's pocket. The gun came out slowly, but barely wavering in the grasp of the small boy. Coming up, the barrel of the gun suddenly found itself pointed at Dire, then at Nezzie.

"No." Deranz said one last time, simply, as if a weight had been lifted from his chest, and relaxed his grip, letting the blaster fall to the ground with a dull thud, the weapon's landing place now hidden, now visible in the swirl of the alley's early dawn fog. Nezeliezer smiled at his friend, and turned back to Dire, who appeared to be waiting patiently but expectantly for something,

"So it's you, Nezeliezer, that I'm taking back to the Guild with me? It's good that your friend made this sacrifice for you. The fact that he did shows that he wasn't fit to be part of the Guild anyway. Just hand me that document, and we'll be on our way." Dire's speech raised indignation in Deranz, and the boy's eyes prickled with anger and an intense fire. After all he had gone through to get this document, and after he had refused to attack his friend, this man would ridicule him? Already thoughts of vengeance started making their way through Deranz' head, but more than that, hurt. And an unmistakable feeling of once more being left alone.

What Deranz didn't notice though, was that Nezzie had the same indignant fire glowing in his own eyes. The next word out of Nezzie's mouth came nearly as a scream, the echo bouncing back from wall to wall in the Dark Moon's back alley.

"Enough!" came the cry from the boy, as his voice regained it's composure, but hurried on anyway, his words urgent with anger, "I've had enough of this game Telfass, and Deranz and I are done playing it. There never was a competition, and you and I know it, because all this Sithin' stuff was nothing but a frelling setup."

The itch in the back of Deranz' head suddenly exploded open as Nezzie spoke, and Deranz suddenly realized what it was that his distress had made him miss, cursing himself for his oversight. Meanwhile, Nezzie went on,

"There was never a competition because none of the other boys in it were meant to succeed. Girsh and Bii'ja? You probably picked them because you knew that they'd try to attack us before we went in. As for the other two sets of boys, you just wanted to make sure that one or the other of them would trigger the general alarm in the house, and make our job that much harder."

Deranz took up the track, "And what about all the information you provided us with, about old fortresses and hidden tunnels? What about the walls perfect for a kid to climb, which gave away the age of the place? Every step of the way, we were led, and simply had to figure out how to overcome the task. No, you never cared about the other boys at all, Nezzie was right from the start! You were just testing us, and us in particular!"

Now grinning, Nezzie resumed, "You picked the perfect mission where being a kid was the best way to win. You didn't want it to be easy because then we wouldn't be worth it! In fact, you probably sent us to the office first, knowing that with the alarm the document would be with the target, and that he wouldn't be there. You probably just sent us there to find the gun that Deranz used to kill the man."

Telfass was silent, but Nezzie pressed on, "So please, Mr. Dire, cut the bantha dribble and let's go to wherever it is you're taking us. Both of us. It's getting a bit cold out here, and we're both real tired."

Now, the alley that had a second ago been full of noise was deathly still. Telfass Dire's raven gaze took in first one boy, then the other, and Deranz realized his heart was pounding. They were right, he was sure of it, but what would Telfass do?

What Telfass did was fairly unexpected.

He laughed. But not a sinster or a foreboding laugh, one of genuine, warm, mirth. Gone was the expression of darkness on his face, and reflected again in his visage was that kindly older man who had given little urchins some bread and food to help them survive an extra day,

"You're right," Telfass started, a smile now on his lips, "But you give me a little too much credit. It's true that the 'competiton' was simply meant to get in your way, but I didn't direct you to the wall, I simply knew that it was possible for a kid to climb up. As for the gun in the office, that wasn't part of my plans, but I'm glad you found it and accomplished your mission. I didn't actually think that that Vuun Market lapdog would get so paranoid over a few kids, but I guess he figured it was a precursor to a serious attack."

For a second, Telfass looked almost sheepish, "And sorry for that last part too, all part of the test. You're right boys, I had been observing the two of you for a while, and I liked what I saw, after tonight..."

Telfass looked back to Nezzie, "The document?"

Courage evaporated, Nezzie handed it to Dire, his hand nearly shaking with excitement. Dire glanced at it once, and then pocketed it, seemingly satisfied.

"Thanks boys, you've helped prevent a war between the Thieves Guild and the Vuun Dark Council... or at least postponed it for some time. In fact, it's probably better that you killed that politician, because he could've been more trouble. And now..." Telfass glanced at the boys, who were very nearly hopping back and forth from one foot to another with nervous energy, "Now, you have a choice to join the Vuun Thieves Guild. I guarantee it won't be easy, but the rewards..."

Deranz and Nezzie nearly fell over each other in their eagerness to accept Telfass' generous invitation, their anger of just seconds before completely forgotten in the light of benevolence and success.

"Come boys," Telfass said, the aura of darkness still hanging around him. Now though, at least in the boys' eyes, a rosy corona seemed to surround that darkness, like the sun on a day of eclipse. "Follow me to your new life."

The boys followed the eclipsed sun out of the alley, and into the city of Vuun.
'And So it Goes'
Posts: 214
Joined: Sun Feb 16, 2003 1:07 pm

Post by Jack_Sigma »

*****

Years passed, and the boys grew into young men in the tender arms of one of the most notorioius Thieves Guilds in the known universe.

Their training from the very day of their acceptance was strenuous, and very quickly the boys realized that their foray into the politician's compound was a very meager taste of the trials and difficulties ahead. As new members into the Guild, the boys were put under a set of a few different theives that would be their teachers and mentors in various areas. Each man, woman or alien that the boys served under had different ideas about what it took to be a good thief, and different beliefs on how, and how hard someone had to train to get there. Suffice it to say, none of their beliefs were easyhanded. As part of their physical training, the boys found themselves pitching in along with some of the workmen's crews around Vuun, thrown in their as a favor to some informant or other, or simply so that the workmen would remember the generosity. Treated no differently from anyone else, the boys were given tasks that tested the peaks of their physical constitution, and left them drained and empty of any energy by the end of the day. Meanwhile, none of these jobs were considered perfectly safe for grown men, and young kids with their little hands and small muscles often found themselves at more of a danger than most.

There were no classrooms in the Thieves Guild, and all teaching and experience was done in the field. If the boys were learning about picking a lock, it was done at night at the door of some fat merchant's house, while the man and his family lay peacefully snoring within. The boys' speed was tested by making them steal from the bazaar in plain view of city guards, and boys that didn't run fast enough would often end up spending a night or two in the city jail. Day in, day out, night in, night out, the boys found themselves on forays throughout the city of Vuun, and many of the surrounding cities on the planet. After passing through one level of teachers, it was entirely possible that the boys would be shipped off to a Guild location at another city for a few months or more to learn there. Each Guild spot had a few members who were willing to pick up the boys' apprenticeship and take them around for a while. Since there weren't that many kids working their way through the Guild system, teaching didn't bother most of the local thieves enough for them to decline doing it.

As for other apprentices, there were a few, but they were so spread out across the different cities and planets in the sector that the only time they really intersected was during their stints on Vuun, and those times they were nothing more than amicable with each other. Every couple apprentices were about a year apart in age, and mostly trained with the others that had come in in the same year. Nezzie and Deranz knew that there were a few others that had entered the Guild at the same time they had, but they were kept together during their training, and as busy as they were kept, neither could care less about time spent socializing.

In the first few years, they boys never had to decide what to specialize in, and instead received a wide variety of instruction in dozens of different fields, some of which had very ambiguous relationships to being a good thief. Despite working their hardest to excell at it, fishing and meditation were among some of the skills that Nezzie and Deranz thought they might have been able to do without. And certainly cooking techniques were beyond the realm of roguery, but the boys learned it anyway, implicitly trusting the judgement of their masters and betters.

The organization of training in the guild was such that in the first couple years, apprentices hopped from set of teachers to set of teachers, traveling to a variety of places and learning the broadest possible skill set. The Guild believed that there were things that every good thief should be able to do, and they drilled these things into every apprentice they took, not allowing for disrespect, or disobedience. After growing a bit, at about the age of sixteen, each apprentice decided what he wanted to specialize in, and the guild found a master without an apprentice in that area that was, at the time, available to take a student. What the masters did with their students was up to them, some instructed very closely, teaching and taking an active hand in the student's activities. Others assigned missions and let the student learn from experience, teaching some here and there, allowing the student to put their skills in play. For the Guild, it didn't matter, it had faith in its masters to put proper training in a student, and they had a success rate to uphold their faith.

For Deranz and Nezzie, the question of specialization was always a debate between the two, and the boys spent years pretending, supposing, and deciding what exactly they wanted to do with the rest of their lives. The question of specialization was always a toss-up, but the question of who they would apprentice with seemed to have been decided from the first day they joined.

From the start, the wiry Telfass Dire took an active interest in the boys, constantly watching over their training and adding to it himself. Normally apprentices didn't have any constant teachers over their first few years in the Guild, but with Nezeliezer and Deranz, Telfass was always there. From the first, he was one of their teachers, and easily one of their most challenging at that. From the first, Telfass advised the boys and talked to them, helping guide their training in ways he thought could benefit them, but always leaving a decision up to them. For their part, the boys generally agreed with Telfass advice, and it was this that had Deranz spending more and more time getting stronger, while Nezeliezer spent countless hours trying to make himself faster. Both boys learned how to tumble, and both spent long, weary hours at a time sitting in one place working on their hand-eye reflexes.

The one thing the boys noticed was that Telfass very rarely left Vuun, and they only times that they boys would really be apart from him was when they were assigned to train in other cities, or, on occasion, on one of the other planets in the system. If they were in a nearby city, Telfass dropped in on them around once a month, to see their progress and present some new and brain-bending task. If they were off-planet, it was once every month and a half, or so, but the boys quickly came to look forward to Telfass' visits and dangerous riddles.

What the boys soon picked up from their teachers and the limited contact they had with some of the older apprentices was that Telfass Dire was a ranking member of the Vuun Thieves Guild. Possibly very ranking. Upon entering the Guild, none of the heirarchy was reavealed to new apprentices, beyond showing them who their teachers were, and who would give them their next assignment. In fact, rank about the Guild was very rarely discussed openly, and the members usually didn't even acknowledge each others' presence in public, but communicated through a few hand signals.

Telfass Dire, or so the story went, was a very high up in the Vuun Thieves Guild, but he was a man weary from years at his position, and the constant battle of intrigue for survival and supremacy that the Guild had to conduct against the Black Market government of Vuun. Leaving his position and nearly retiring as one of the legends among the Thieves, Telfass stuck around Vuun, doing a few jobs here and there that other thought were nearly impossible, accomplishing enough for his voice to always be whispered as one of the living legends of his profession. As the years passed and Telfass did less and less, many began to suspect that the man was finally close to done with his work, but those who said they knew him knew one thing: Telfass still needed an heir. Telfass began to work closely with the urchin gangs in Vuun, giving them food sometimes, shelter at others, and constantly keeping tabs on their progress as street kids. The Guild had always recruited young and from various places, but it was Telfass who first tapped Vuun's own urchin population, and he had sent many promising apprentices up the ladder through the years.

Never though, had he stayed as interested in any of those apprentices' progress as he was with Nezeliezer and Deranz'. Many began to think that Telfass, the man who still at times advised the Head Council of the Thieves Guild, had finally chosen his successors, and the apprentices that he would personally train. Still, none were particulary envious of the boys, knowing Telfass' reputation and knowing that their lives would be that much harder for the attention he was giving them. On the other hand, other teachers, knowing that these boys were Telfass' chosen, drove them harder and further, wanting to add to the boys development, and wanting to make sure that Telfass' chosen didn't start to think of themselves as special.

The result was as desired, and the boys grew better, stronger, faster, and most of all, smarter. With Telfass guiding them from the beginning, the boys had to learn to adapt faster, and had such an expanse of wisdom to draw from that they were able to measure up to the task. When it came the day, when the boys had completed their last task for their last teacher, they returned to Vuun to find an older Telfass Dire than they had met years ago waiting for them, ready to finally take them in hand on his own.

On that day, the boys were already young men. Both sixteen, the two friends looked much different from the children that Telfass had taken with him into the Guild's hidden compound in the underbelly of Vuun. Both had grown, and Nezeliezer's skinny frame had turned into a lean runner's body, and his long face had lost its vestiges of childhood, leaving an intense expression and a penetrating stare. Deranz on the other hand had never stopped growing up. At sixteen he stood taller than most grown men, and promised to reach even greater heights. It wasn't a skinny tall though, because due to Telfass instruction, Deranz had never stopped working to raise his strength, and now had a solid frame that filled out his height with muscle. If not for the youth still in his eyes and fresh cheeks, Deranz at a distance could easily have been taken for a much older man. Together, with Nezzie's leanness and Deranz' size, when the two were in each others' company, it almost seemed like some brooding Imperial officer and his hulking bodyguard were wandering around. The fact that given a narrow corridor, Deranz always walked a little back and to the right of Nezeliezer only added to this morbid effect. Still, the fire burned hot in two sets of eyes as Telfass greeted the boys as they came off their transport.

Seeing their friend and master, the boys' faces lit up and the rushed to Telfass, embracing their mentor. Telfass smiled and greeted them in kind, and then looked at them with a serious expression,

"I'm assuming you understand what all this means?" the old thief asked, as both boys laughed.

"If you mean you've decided to take us on as your apprentices, I'm shocked," said Nezeliezer with some sarcasm.

Telfass grinned again, "I'm glad you're making jokes Nezzie, but you're right, and if you think that what you just went through was hard or rigorous, you're probably right. If you think that anything just got easier..." Telfass laughed, a laugh from deep in his belly, "well, I'll enjoy showing you the error of your thinking."

"Of course it won't get easier," Deranz said, his own happiness clearly showing on his face, "Why do you think we've put up with you for so long, otherwise?"

Telfass nodded, "Good, and now that you're here, I've got a mission for the two of you that'll fit you perfectly. In fact, you're possibly the only ones that can do it."

"Except for you?" Nezzie butt in, and Telfass scowled, "Yes, except for me, and a host of other thieves, but what matters is that how you're going to do it is unique, because you have an access point that neither I, nor a host of other good thieves could access."

Their interest picqued, the boys stopped their banter and listened closely, waiting with excitement for the next mission.

After seeing the reaction, Telfass nearly grinned but contained himself, and went on, "Some family from one of the outlying colonies is paying us a hefty sum to rescue her daughter from some slavers that grabbed the girl, somewhat unwillingly, from her transport on its way back to her own planet from Rayje. The slavers are the Kurzhii, and I'm sure you've heard of them, but they have an outpost established in the wilderness a few thousand klicks south of Vuun. It's the middle of nothing, so any outside approach would be detected and shot down without even getting close to the well defended compound. In fact, one of the only things we have going for us is that the Kurzhii camp is in Warlord Dyess' territory, and we don't think he knows about it. Our spies tell us that that's where the girl's been taken, and you boys get to get her out."

"What about the money?" Nezzie asked, looking at Telfass while mulling all this information over.

"It's yours, of course, subject to a percent that the guild takes, which is a bit larger for apprentices than regular members. I'm technically also owed a percentage as your master, but if you do this right, you can have that too, I've enough money without trifles like this." Telfass replied.

"And why does no one else want this job?" Nezzie pressed on, and Telfass gave an evil smile,

"It's a local family, so it's not actually much money, and the feat is nearly impossible to accomplish for most regular thieves, so its really not worth it for most."

"So what's the approach then," Deranz questioned, his eyes gleaming with an odd light, as if waiting for confirmation of something he thought he may have figured out, "How is it that the two of us are going to be able to penetrate this camp while most other thieves can't?"

"It's simple my boy," Telfass said, a sly look on his face, "you're going to be taken as slaves."
'And So it Goes'
Posts: 214
Joined: Sun Feb 16, 2003 1:07 pm

Post by Jack_Sigma »

ooc:/ I feel like I must apologize for all the typo's in my previous post(s)... I'd make an excuse, but the truth is that I'm just too lazy to proofread.

IC:

*****

“NEXT!!” The shout rang out through the hall, and the mass of people waiting shifted, creating a blob of shifting color and shape as the line shuffled forward a couple of steps. The mass was made up of aliens of all kinds, and the group was as varied as could be. Young and old were thoroughly intermixed in the line, and humans and aliens were present in almost equal proportions. There were two similarities that were held by most who stood in the massive line: they were mostly all males of their respective species’, and all of them looked like they had seen better days, or possibly not. Patched and mended clothes were the norm, more often than not, and the wear and tear was clearly visible on most of the outfits in the room. Dirt lined most of the faces, sometimes more visible on the fairer skinned species, while tinting the darker-skinned Rodians and Weequays with discolored splotches. A last similarity was held by the eclectic group, but it had no relation to the clothes or physiologies of the beings in the room. Instead, it was seen in their eyes, or hanging about their faces like a shadow. The shade that seemed to hollow out the expressions of humans and aliens alike was hopelessness. Regardless of where you looked, a Gotal wasn’t needed to feel the sheer desperation and lack of faith in the room. A blind man could have smelled the tension, and assumed that he was witness to an entire crowd’s last march. He wouldn’t have been far off.

The mass was in actuality a few lines which occupied the same entrance hall to one of the guild buildings on Vuun. This guild was the worker’s guild, but it was a guild only in name. It was, in fact, established by the mining and labor corporations that operated in the sector around Rayje as a farming ground for cheap, desperate labor. The jobs offered were difficult and unsafe, promising little money or chance for advancement. But at least they offered something. A few meals a day, sometimes hot. A bed, which, if lucky, would be under a roof, or at least a tarp. For countless settlers and drifters with nothing to do and no money to make, this was an alternative well worth it, rather than spending time homeless and destititue on the streets of Vuun. The street urchins assaulted the homeless sometimes, asserting dominance over the only class of society that couldn’t answer back. If even the smallest shred of dignity remained in a man’s soul, he wouldn’t reduce himself to that.

There were a few faces in the crowd that lacked that desperation though, but these faces had something else: the essence of youth. For those kids who didn’t know better, or had grown up in the streets, the work crews were the best legal alternative to make money, if a kid didn’t want to join one or another warlord, and cut their life expectancy in three or four. The work crews cut it in two, but at least that was something. Those who weren’t smart enough to make it on the street ended up here, along with a few country bumpkins who had escaped the farm life in search of the greater galaxy, and ended up on Vuun, with no money and nothing to do. These boys still thought that the work crews were just the first step in building their fortune, and escaping the Rim for that bright center of the universe that every boy dreams about. Little did they know that in five, ten years, more often than not they’d be one of those hopeless faces in the crowd, ambition dead, health struggling, and no thought other than the next day’s meal.

For Deranz and Neliezer, standing in this line, the effect was two-fold. On the one hand, regardless of how cold-hearted the young thieves made themselves out to be, neither could help but being touched by the bleakness of these sentient beings’ situations. On the other though, both couldn’t help but feel a sense of triumph and joy that they weren’t a natural part of this line. This was the look of their future, or at least one of the alternatives, until Telfass Dire and the Guild. And once more, the boys couldn’t help but feel a deep gratitude to Dire for everything he had done for them.

“NEXT!!” That shout once more, and the mass shifted again, and this time the movement of shape and color snapped Deranz back to the issue at hand. The hopeless multitudes aside, one thought loomed large before Deranz:

He and Nezeliezer were about to be taken as slaves.

The cover story was nearly perfect, with no way to disprove or deny. Besides that, Deranz wasn’t worried about slavers looking too deep into the past of a few sixteen-year old boys.

Information had come through the Guild’s Spynet that the Kurzhii’s operation on Vuun was currently focused on abducting children in their teenage years, for sale either to work crews, or more likely as personal servants or entertainment. Besides raiding transports, the slavers had a more insidious plan to capture some good working youth. The slavers had paid off, and to a point hired, one of the worker’s guildhouse agents who sat in front of the line, recording data and processing it, then sending the file along to its appropriate locations for job assignment. This human was on the look-out for youths between the ages of fourteen and twenty, who appeared to have no entanglements in terms of family or anyone that would look for them should they disappear. What was surprising was the amount of youths that came through matching these descriptions.

The next step in the line was for the human, a portly balding man by the name of Beelbus Crayne, to simply send along the files to a different location, and send the boy along with a set of papers to go get his physical exam. Every worker going through had to pass their physical, unless they had already cleared one within the year, so this was nothing new or surprising. For the special cases though, the papers that went with the boy to the doctor were specially marked, and, of course, the doctor was paid off as well.

For the special cases, the doctor would examine the boys accurately, and if they fit the bill, would proceed to immunize them against the host of possible diseases the boys could encounter on the work crews.

The next morning, the boys would wake up in chains in some place far in the wilderness, what could be 500, or what could be 10000 klicks from Vuun. Or an entirely different planet. Their fate was sealed, and their records never were. They disappear entirely without trace, and no one exists who cares enough to wonder where they went to. It was a devious scheme, and both Beelbus and Dr. Grevin were very well paid in the process. After all, it took a hefty sum of money to silence to consciences of two men selling children into slavery.

“NEXT!!” Deranz and Nezeliezer moved closer to Beelbus, who was as of yet still a good group of people away from them.

Under their cover story, Deranz and Nezeliezer would allow themselves to be taken by the slavers, to wake up the next morning in binders. To this end, Telfass had spent the half-week between the boys’ arrival on Vuun and the beginning of this mission to drilling into them some new skills, the first and foremost of which had been how to get out of binders. Telfass had snuck into the boys’ room the morning after their arrival, and with a few quick motions had managed to slap binders on the boys’ wrists while they were still newly woken and groggy from the night’s rest. He had shown them how to remove them three times, and told them to meet him at a cantina not far from where they were for a sumptuous meal, on him. Then he proceeded to leave the room and lock the door from the outside, leaving the boys on the floor, hands bound behind their backs.

After starving away most of the morning, the boys walked into the Fallen Sun cantina for a well deserved mid-afternoon meal, which proved to be as good as the boys had been promised. The rest of that day was spent learning how to kill a man.

The lesson of the day was poison, or more specifically, poison needles. Telfass, in his day, had pioneered a very effective way of killing people using poison needles. With the help of a Sullustian tech, Telfass had rigged up a small rectangular metal casing with a simple projectile system that would allow it to fire something as light as a needle a fair distance, and then reload to the next one in line. The metal casing Telfass first designed was about the size of a wallet and as thin as a finger, and could fit about ten to fifteen needles about the length of a human finger. Fired by a button which could either be located on the casing or wired out to some distance, Telfass had always operated with several of these projectile devices of different sizes secreted about his person. Coat the needles with poison, and you have projectile death in a convenient size, and easy to hide, besides.

Telfass jury-rig had been something he hadn’t shared with many people, but he told the boys that afternoon for a different reason. The emphasis was poison needles, and as he told them his story, Telfass gave each of them a cheap necklace made out of some sort of twine, having three, large different colored knots along the front of the rope necklace instead of jewels or ornaments. The boys looked at the tacky gifts with skepticism, wondering just where Telfass was going with this. Smiling at the boys’ questioning glances, Telfass produced a third necklace of the same kind, and laid it on the table in front of them,

“Can you guess what this is?” Telfass asked, looking from Deranz to Nezeliezer and back.

“Friendship bracelets?” Deranz asked with a chuckle, “you shouldn’t have, Telfass, we won’t be gone that long…”

“Poison.” Nezzie said, conviction in his voice. Deranz’ eyebrow rose for a second as he pondered Nezzie’s evaluation, then he too became serious as he reached a similar conclusion.

“Which of the three knots is it, Telfass?” Deranz questioned, his tone now somber and even businesslike.

“Actually,” the older thief replied, content that his faith was again well placed, “It’s all of them. And the needles are hidden in the twine. Inside the rope loop is a slim wire that can be pulled out like so,” As he talked, Telfass picked up the third necklace and grabbed it by the clasp, pulling half of the clasp off to reveal the end of a wire. A grasp and a second’s worth of pulling freed the wire from its twine constraints, and Telfass quickly straightened it in his hands. Then, the wiry old man folded the long wire in three, and broke it apart into three separate pieces, each one a few inches long.

This done, Telfass began again, “The wire can be used to first escape your binders, and then, once broken, leaves three pieces. You could break it into more, but three gives the most convenient length. Having done this, simply poke the end of the wire needle through the desired knot to poison the end. First, poke through so that the end of the needle emerges on the other side of the knot, then slowly pull the needle back out. Try to make sure you push through the very center of the knot, because that will yield more potent results.”

Nezzie broke in, “What’s the difference in the poisons for each colored knot?”

“Well,” Telfass continued, “The black knot if used on its own will only paralyze a person for about an hour, at which point they’ll regain full use of their faculties. The red and purple knots are meant to be used together, because when the two combine, they kill, and almost instantly. Combine all three and it’s pretty much overkill, but some larger men and aliens can take significantly more toxins in their system, so evaluate as you see fit. Just be careful, because there isn’t enough poison soaked into the center of the knots for any of them to be used more than twice.”

“And how do we know that the slavers won’t confiscate our necklaces?” Deranz asked, now examining his necklace much more carefully and tenderly.

“The slavers have no reason to pull off of you anything that doesn’t have value, and necklaces don’t impede the use of binders or ankle-chains. Also, make up some cover story about how they were given to you by your dead mother, maybe it’ll help. Still… it’s entirely possible that they’ll get taken, at which point you two will have to either find where the slavers threw these, or just find something else to use to escape your bindings.” Telfass admitted, “Tomorrow we’ll work on a few different ways to get out of your binders, so figure that by the time you go on the mission, you’ll have enough means at your disposal to figure something out even if the slavers decided to keep a colored necklace made from twine and rope.”

The boys had nodded, adorned their necklaces, and the lesson had continued in earnest, moving on to more varied topics than just killing.

“NEXT!!” The boys were close now, only a few people back from Beelbus, and the true start to their mission. The boys had a clear goal in mind when it came to their planned infiltration of the Kurzhii camp. Telfass had told them that they would have about twenty-four hours before the bantha fodder hit the ventilation system. About half a day after they went in, the Guild spy in Warlord Dyess’ camp would tip off the Warlord as to a camp his enemies had set up in his territory in the wilderness, away from prying eyes. These enemies were fortifying themselves and flying in supplies to let their forward outpost grow. From there, it was projected that another half a day would pass before starfighters started strafing the jailer camp, which would be Deranz and Nezzie’s cue to make their escape.

It was simple really, and all the boys had to do in their twenty-four hours in the slaver camp was locate the girl, and make sure she knew she was coming with them when all hell broke loose. It seemed like an open and shut case, and the band of twine around his neck made him feel a little bit more secure in this endeavor.

“NEXT!!” Beelbus shouted, and Nezzie and Deranz stepped up to the portly man’s little table.

ooc:/ Yeah, sorry to anyone actually readin'... I hate to stop mid-post, but it's past 5 am here, and I feel like it'd be better to get to bed now, rather than later :P
'And So it Goes'
Posts: 214
Joined: Sun Feb 16, 2003 1:07 pm

Post by Jack_Sigma »

“Name, age, and species?” The document-pusher asked without looking up from his terminal.

“Um, there’s two of us, sir,” Nezzie replied, in his best unsure country bumpkin voice.

Beelbus looked up, and the sigh that he barely held back was clearly written on his lips. In front of him, dressed in simple country clothes, stood two young boys, one smaller, while the other abnormally big for the age that Beelbus put to him. The smaller seemed to have some semblance of poise, but the bigger one could have had the word ‘idiot’ tattooed on his face for how apparent it was that there was no one keeping house in that large body. Not for the first time, Beelbus wondered to himself why it was always the stupid ones that were gifted with good physical features and toned bodies, while he, Beelbus, an intelligent and well-mannered man, was forced to suffer baldness and an overactive gut. For a second, Beelbus hoped that these boys would fit the profile, or at least that the bigger one would. Beelbus hated people like the bigger boy, stupid but physically blessed, and he relished the few times that he could exert his meager power to make their lot in life more miserable,

“So there is,” the vindictive clerk said, “Names? Ages?”

“Well,” began Nezzie, “I’m Tobias Bishop, and this is my half-brother Hu Bishop, but we call him Butch for short. We’re both sixteen sir.”

“And we’re human,” Hu added, looking lost as ever, “You forgot to say that Toby.”

Beelbus nearly slapped himself out of frustration. And Hu? Butch for short? It was another one of those typical big kid names, the kinds of big kids that had endlessly tortured and beat up Beelbus as a child.

“Great,” Beelbus said, “What kind of job are you looking for?”

“We want to work the crews, sir,” Tobias replied, “We’re both hard workers, sir, we worked long hours at our farm on Birus II, and I make up for my smallness by being an extra hard worker.”

“And I’m big,” Hu added in again, “I work good, I promise.”

Rolling his eyes and hoping all the more for the right answer to next question, Beelbus spoke up almost tentatively,

“Contacts? You know, who to notify in case of accident or injury, or anything of the sort?”

“Um…” Tobias looked sheepish, and almost unwilling to continue. Beelbus put on his best kind adult voice, and prodded him on,

“It’s alright son, there’s no need to be embarrassed, we’re not here to judge you, we just need to know as part of protocol.”

“Well,” Tobias continued, “You see, we ran away from our Uncle Todd on Birus II cuz he used to beat Hu and me. He was always calling us worthless, saying he only fed us because he didn’t want our mother hauntin’ him from beyond the grave. Always yelling that the word we did didn’t make up for the money spent housing and feeding us. Besides the free work we did for him, I think he was probably glad to have us gone. I’d rather you not contact him if anything happens to us, but I don’t think he’s looking too hard for us in either case.”

The expression of sympathy on Beelbus face was almost ruined by the grin that threatened to break out. Beelbus loved it when providence was good enough to show that it really knew what justice was. Soon, these boys would get what they deserved.

“It’s alright, son,” Beelbus soothed, “We won’t tell your uncle anything, you’re free now, and soon you’ll have a working job and make some money to make a life for yourselves.”

Tobias broke out into a big smile at these words, but then it faded and he looked hesitant once more, “Sir?” he asked as Beelbus was looking down at his terminal, entering the proper codes to make these boys’ request a special case.

“Yes?” the clerk asked, still gleefully working on sending these boys off to the slavers.

“Hu and I want to be kept together,” Tobias said, “We’ve been through a lot together, and we don’t really think we could work if we were split up. Hu and I, we’re all either of us has left, so do you think you could add something in to that report you’re making to make sure we both go to the same place?”

“Oh don’t worry,” Beelbus replied, an absolute conviction in his voice, “You’ll be sent to the same place, I promise.” Hitting a button on his terminal, Beelbus ejected a data-chip and handed it to Tobias. “Now listen, son, both your and Hu’s information is on this, and I’m entrusting it to you not to lose it. Now you take this chip, and take it to Doctor Grevin. His is the entry room down the hall on the right, all the way at the end. It’ll say ‘Dr. Grevin,’ on it… can you read, son?”

“Yes, sir, enough,” Tobias replied, taking the data chip as if it was the most precious thing in the world. “Thank you so much sir, I really appreciate it. We’ll remember your kindness sir, I promise.”

“Oh, think nothing of it boy, now get along, I’ve got a lot of work requests to process. NEXT!!” Beelbus yelled, and the boys seemed all but forgotten as another hopeless soul stepped up to the plate.

The two boys went on their way, the taller one seeming to huddle down as the two whispered back and forth between each other on their way down the hall to the right, towards Dr. Grevin’s office.

“So far, so good…” Nezzie said, his dumb kid status allowing him leave the smile on his face, “That was pretty impressive Deranz, did you see how that vein on his head started throbbing every time you said something? That vicious little gishra dropping is a jerk, and when we’re done with this, I think we should come back and end his job.”

“We’ll get to it when we get to it,” Deranz mumbled back, “Right now, let’s fool this Doc Grevin guy too. And,” Deranz said as Nezzie’s mouth opened once more, “don’t worry, not only are we gonna stuff that clerk’s throbbing vein down his throat, I’ll tell you that even before meeting this Grevin guy, we’ll be coming back for him.”

Nezelizer gave a short nod of approval, and the boys found themselves at the appropriate door. Taking a deep breath and making sure his face looked as dumb as possible, Deranz opened the door and entered the doctor’s waiting room.

Sterile white ruled the senses, and the smell of antiseptics hang sharply in the air. The line extended to the waiting room, but here instead of anxiousness or despair was only boredom. Nezzie and Deranz fell pray to this mood, and soon found themselves standing silently, listlessly, eyes glazed as their very thoughts slowed down to a snail’s pace. Deranz found himself staring at the 2-D pictures that hung on the wall, tacky images of flowing fields and flowering jungles. Deranz found himself wondering if such places really did exist; whether it was possible to find a country that was as clean and pure as the pictures. Whether it was possible that there existed a place not suffused with pollution, smog, and enough tragedy and despair to make the air itself feel heavy and depressed. These thoughts only served to make Deranz more dejected, and the boy quickly stopped, trying to focus his mind on the action to come. When the older woman who was working the reception for Dr. Grevin finally called up Tobais and Hu, Deranz could’ve almost cried with relief. He schooled his features over the silence and dullness, and Tobias and Hu entered the examination room.

The doctor was a graying man with a face that could have been sucked dry by a Tatooine vaporizer. Wrinkles and fissures criss-crossed a tan and weathered face. A sparse mustache decorated the doctor’s upper lip, and when the man smiled, a shine of chrome flashed out among his teeth. Had he not been wearing a doctor’s white coat, the man would’ve been of the sort the boys would have avoided on the street at night, his image typical of a drunk or child-beater.

“Tobias and Hu,” the doctor read, when the boys gave him their data-chip, “Alright boys, strip down to your underwear so that I can have a look at you. And take off any metal that you may be wearing, I need to scan you and there can’t be any magnetic interference with my scanners.”

The boys stripped down, but both made a point of leaving their shoddy necklaces around their necks. When the doctor turned back to the boys, ready to proceed, he eyed the necklaces skeptically,

“Those necklaces have any metal in them, boys?” The doctor asked, in a tone that said his patience wasn’t limitless.

“Well, sir,” Tobias began, taking the lead as always for his less eloquent half-brother, “You see, these necklaces were a gift to Hu and me from our dear departed mother, and we both hate to be without them. I… I think they’re just cloth and twine, but if you think it’d get in the way, I guess we could take ‘em off.”

“Yes,” Dr. Grevin replied tersely, “Take them off, please. You can lay them on my tray of equipment right here and take them back as soon as I’m done scanning you. Don’t worry, no one will try to take your necklaces.”

The boys seemed hesitant, but eventually they removed their necklaces, Tobias going first, and Hu following his lead. Motioning both boys to sit on the examining chair, Dr. Grevin promptly proceeded to run various scanners over them, check their breathing by listening to their chests, check their carbon-dioxide and oxygen output by having them breath in some apparatus, and fussed over them in a dozen different ways. Normal worker’s coming through Dr. Grevin’s office wouldn’t get nearly as much attention. Any normal worker would get a brief run-over with the scanner, and then a clean bill of health, sent to be an expendable unit of a conglomerate’s cheap labor scheme, one of an endless supply of replaceable parts. Tobias and Hu were different, because they had Beelbus special code attached to them, which meant that they needed to be examined completely thoroughly, so that the Kurzhii could present Dr. Grevin’s clean bill of health to any prospective customers, and have it account for any number of health facts that a purchaser may wish to know about his slaves. About fifteen minutes later, it was all done, and time for the last step.

“Now then, boys,” Dr. Grevin began, his face smug now that these boys had passed the health inspection, and Grevin knew he would be getting his commission off of them, “Only one thing remains. I need to immunize you two against a host of different diseases you may encounter out at the different work sites. This will sting just a bit, but I promise the pain will disappear in just a few seconds.”

With these words, Dr. Grevin bent over his counter of medical tools and began preparing to syringes, one for each boy, with their ‘immunization.’ Since the doctor’s office was part of a large chain, the doctor’s examining room had a door at the back from which finished patients walked through, and then on to their assignments. For special cases like these, Grevin keyed in a call button at his table while preparing the syringes, letting the Kurzhii know he was about to have a pickup for them. In actuality, there was a third door out of the doctor’s exam room. It was actually a trap door that led down under the guild building to an unused sub-basement that was part of an ancient maze of tunnels that wound around under Vuun. Dr. Grevin had been chosen for a reason, and then the room he had been assigned was also precisely chosen, with a few choice bribes to officials who just thought that they had encountered a picky doctor. Everything was set, and Grevin turned to face the boys, syringes in hand.

“Tobi-asss…” Hu whined, and the doctor looked over at the larger boy, raising an eyebrow.

Tobias reacted as if he knew exactly what Hu was thinking, and looked imploringly over at the doctor, “Doctor, sir… would it be at all possible for me and Hu to put our necklaces back on? I know it sounds stupid, but Hu doesn’t like needles, and the necklace sure would be a big comfort… and I, I just kinda don’t like not wearing it. If we’re done with the scanners an’ all, sir…”

The doctor sighed and waved at the boys to be quick, and the two anxiously jumped off the examination chair and hungrily snatched their necklaces off the tool tray, putting them on with practiced motions in just a few seconds. This done, tension seemed to flow out of the boys, and the two sat meekly back down on the exam chair, awaiting their shots.

Finally ready to continue, the doctor made his way over to the boys and first gave one a shot in the right arm, then the other. As he did this, Dr. Grevin made a mental note to himself to let the Kurzhiians know to leave the necklaces on the boys. They were worthless as jewelry, but these boys would probably cause more of a ruckuss if their precious heirlooms were taken away than at actually being enslaved. Also, the threat of taking the necklaces away could be used to keep the boys in line. Leverage could be a very useful tool.

As the doctor went about applying the shots to Deranz and Nezeliezer, Deranz tried to make himself relax a bit. Simply sitting there and letting this slimy doctor knock him out for transportation to a slaver camp made Deranz’ skin crawl, but he refused to let this bother him. The control he was about to give up was frightening, but Deranz knew that this was just a stepping stone on his way to become one of the greatest thieves the universe had ever known, or at least that’s what the boy thought his future would look like while he was sitting there, his consciousness slowly fading.

Finally relaxed, Deranz felt himself floating away, dreams of rubies the size of apples and rain-showers of gold sweeping him along into infinite darkness.
'And So it Goes'
Posts: 214
Joined: Sun Feb 16, 2003 1:07 pm

Post by Jack_Sigma »

*****
Coming to was significantly more unpleasant than getting knocked out. Deranz’ head swam as his thoughts tried to piece themselves together and consciousness slowly began to return to the young boy. Disparate pieces of past and present melded together in a hazy stew of old fears, joys, and memorable moments. A face seemed to hang like an apparition on the inside of Deranz’ eyelids, and then was gone. It had been a woman’s face, a kindly face, full of soft panes and pleasant curves. The eyes though… a terrible sadness ruled the face’s eyes, a sadness that threatened to overwhelm the smile the woman was bravely trying to put on. Hungry nights and dark alleys filled Deranz’ sight, accompanied only by the sound of running, of footsteps frantically slapping against pavement. Nearly shivering from a cold that felt like it was about to consume Deranz’ soul, Deranz vainly tried to place the freeze, only to see in an eerie light a small boy, huddling for warmth in dark corners and foggy streets. Then, as suddenly as he had felt the cold, Deranz suddenly felt fire, running through his veins and coursing through his brain, trying to incinerate him from the inside out. Darkness was all that Deranz could see, and an intense black enveloped him. In the distant black, Deranz imagined that he could see two spots of light, but this was nothing akin to the light at the end of the tunnel. Instead of him approaching the light, the lights approached him, two glowing red lights, two glowing red eyes in a lightless world. And then, with the two scarlet eyes boring into Deranz’ head close enough to be right in front of his nose, in that impenetrable blackness, Deranz felt the presence, and the ice-cold breath of another being.

Deranz’ eyes snapped open, and it took a monumental exertion of effort on Deranz’ part not to sit up and scream. Sweat covered the boy, and his cheeks felt wet, as if from tears. A few seconds later, as Deranz’ mind calmed itself and his body, Deranz finally started to take stock of his surroundings. The first and most obvious observation to be made was that Deranz’ hands and feet were both shackled with binders, though fortunately, his hands were bound in front of him. Not yet willing to move in case there were any observers, Deranz let his eyes wander around the stark room that he found himself in. He was alone, he was bound, but he still had his necklace on him, which was of some comfort to the boy. Except for not knowing where Nezeliezer was, everything seemed to be going according to plan. The room itself that Deranz found himself in was more of a holding cell than any kind of room. A single door with a small square window at the top was the only entrance or exit to the room, which was otherwise not lit. The glow of artificial light made its way through the window, and the room was partially illuminated by the window’s glow. Sensing that he was probably being watched and that this exercise would only proceed when Deranz was seen to be awake, the boy finally started moving.

Pretending to express shock, Deranz started struggling with his bonds, futilely flexing his muscles against the metal binders, or stretching his legs out as far they could go to break the ankle bindings. Assuming once more the persona of Hu, Deranz struggled on until frustration seemingly set in. Finally, with little left to do, Hu started screaming at the top of his lungs,

“Hey!! I need some help in here, someone’s tied me up!!” The youth yelled, oblivious to the fact that more likely than not, it was his captors outside his holding cell as opposed to anyone that would actually help.

Sure enough, after only a few seconds of screaming, the door into Hu’s cell opened and the light rushed in, forcing Hu to squint at the silhouette now framing the doorway. If first impressions were any indicator, the figure looked mean. A Twi’lek with the tip of his left lekku missing, scars and tattoos criss-crossed the alien’s body, which was bare from the waist up. A neuro-whip hung at the Twi’lek’s left side, and a precision pistol on the right. The tops of knives could be seen emerging from the Twi’lek’s boots, and a scar that cut across the Twi’lek’s top and bottom lips gave the alien the expression of a permanent sneer.

“You’re really as dumb as the report says, aren’t you?” the Twi’lek asked, amusement twinkling in his shining purple eyes, “Listen here boy. Congratulations, and welcome on your being accepted into a very shining and prestigious organization. By virtue of your talents and intelligence, you’ve just been recruited to be a member of the Kurzhii organization, of the level of ‘slave.’ If you don’t know what this means, then I guess that’s too bad, but the short of it is that you listen to us and do everything we say, or you get viciously beaten. Don’t worry, this is just a holdover, in a few days you’ll be sold to your new master, and then you’ll know what exactly it is that you’re going to be doing until such time as your virtuous master wishes to release you. Work hard enough, and he may let you go, but that’s up to whoever buys you, not us.”

Looking hopeless, Hu began to freshly struggle with his bonds, as if the Twi’lek wasn’t standing directly in front of him. A dangerous glint appeared in the Twi’lek’s eyes; he didn’t like being ignored or disobeyed. In an instant, Hu found himself pinned against the wall, a light blue hand with sharp nails pressing his neck to the wall.

“Don’t sith around with me, boy!” An angry voice croaked out, as the Twi’lek’s other fist came up sharply into Hu’s stomach, causing Hu’s eyes to start tearing up from pain and lack of breath, “You listen and you listen good. You do what we tell you, and you’ll do it fast, or by the fifth abyss of Ao, I’ll tear your very head off.”

Dropping the boy to the ground, the Twi’lek took a step back and a deep breath to regain himself, “I was also told,” the Twi’lek went on in a more reasonable tone, “That that necklace you wear was given to you by your dead mum. You want to hold on to that necklace?” The Twi’lek waited for Hu’s mute nod and continued, “We’ll let you keep it as long as you cooperate.”

“W-where’s Tobias?” Hu stammered out, his strained voice clearly keeping back tears.

“Don’t worry boy, you’ll be reunited with your half-brother soon enough. But I can’t vouch for what will happen when you get sold, so get used to the idea that you may be separated from him soon. Get used to the fact that you’re here, and there’s nothing you can do about it. You are now a slave. Your old life is over. Remember, you are now a slave.” Seemingly satisfied, the Twi’lek turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

A few minutes later, two human thugs walked in, and picked the now mute Hu off the ground. One unlatched Hu’s ankle bindings, and then the two together walked Hu out of his holding cell, and into a long hallway with many doors identical to the one that Hu had just come out of.

The building they were in had about eight holding cells that Deranz could see, and a door at the end that led out. Keeping his head down and shuffling quietly, Deranz walked where directed by the thugs, listening in to their conversation.

“Tenesh works these kids over nice and good,” said the thug on the right, talking over Deranz’ head as if he wasn’t there.

“Yeah, that’s one vicious vornt of a Twi’lek. I wonder what the frell he’s so uptight about all the time,” the thug on the left replied, also ignoring Deranz. Clearly this was just part of the thugs’ daily jobs, one that they attributed no effort to. This could be useful later on.

A few more steps, and Deranz was outside, where the familiar sky of Rayje brought a little comfort to the forlorn boy. The slaver compound was a cluster of hastily put-up tents and holding buildings, the latter of which were solidly constructed and clearly meant to last. The camp was arranged in a circular fashion, holding cells and living tents set up around a central landing platform, which was situated next to a stage that had been built in the middle of the camp with some seats facing it. Clearly this was the auction block for the slaves, and it formed the nucleus for the compound, with all the holding cells and a few guard stations set up in a semi-circle to the left of the stage, while tent housing and a few actual buildings for the higher-ups circled the camp on the right. On his present walk though, Deranz didn’t get to pass through the middle of the camp, where workers were busy in the process of unloading some transport that had just arrived with supplies. Instead, Deranz was walked from the isolation holding cells to the general holding building, the inside of which was arranged in a maze of barred walls and cages. Young kids of different species filled the various cages, some of which were filled to capacity, others of which had only a few kids in them. All had their hands bound, but were otherwise free to move around in their cages. Bringing Deranz in, the thugs stopped before the first barred door inside the holding building that led to the cages. One of the thugs looked down at Deranz,

“Any preference for cage?” the thug asked, looking around the room.

Hu quietly pointed to one close to the door which didn’t yet have anyone in it, but shared a barred wall with another cage that had four or five kids in it. The thug shrugged and unlocked the cage door, throwing Hu in.

“I guess he wants to be alone,” the thug shrugged to the second one, as he locked the door on Hu. “Well, his choice. We should get back to the holding area, Tenesh is probably done making the next one obey.”

With that, the two walked off, leaving Hu caged in solitude. The boy did nothing and said nothing, simply sitting cross-legged in the corner of his cage. In truth, Deranz was examining his surroundings, assessing the situation as he had been taught to by Telfass and his other tutors. The general holding area was an empty building with a giant cage built inside of it. At the moment, three guards could be seen between the outermost cage wall and the walls of the holding house. The three were all in one spot, playing a game of Sabaac or something of the sort and laughing raucously. Besides the box in a box that the central cage was, with bars reaching from floor to ceiling, the central cage was partitioned into its own smaller cages where the kids were kept. Everyone could see everyone else, and there was no privacy, but each small cage had a corner with a hole in it that could be used for the kids to relieve themselves. It was here that the only covering in the building was available, as curtains hung from the ceiling formed a small circle of privacy for kids using the bathroom. Still, the curtain really only kept the kids private in front of each other, because the curtains didn’t go far enough around block view from the outer walkway around the central cage. In this way, the guards could always see the kids, while the kids could use the bathroom somewhat privately of each other.

Deranz waited, and as he expected, Nezzie was walked into the room a few minutes later. The boy had a very dark look on his face, and Deranz could see Nezzie’s struggle to keep his short temper in line. When the thugs asked Nezzie which cage he wanted to be in, the boy quickly pointed at Deranz and was led over and tossed into the cell. The other kids had been curious enough about Deranz’ arrival, but the boy had ignored them until now, but with the arrival of Nezzie as well, the others attention was riveted on the two new arrivals.

Ignoring the stares of the other kids and waiting until the thugs left, Nezzie flopped down onto the ground cross-legged next to Deranz. For a minute or so, neither one of them spoke.

Nezzie finally broke the silence, “I’m going to kill that Twi’lek.”

“Tenesh,” Deranz added, breathing deeply and almost enjoying the break the boys had.

“Fine, I’m going to kill Tenesh.” Nezzie replied, looking over at Deranz for the first time, “You alright?”

“Fine,” Deranz answered, “Yourself? You didn’t look too happy a minute ago.”

Nezzie shrugged it off, “I’d rather not talk about it, but I’m killing Tenesh on our way out. In any case, we’ve got a job to do, and the twenty-four hour clock is ticking. You ready to do this?”

Deranz sighed and stretched his arms out in front of him, stretching out his chest and back, and flexing his arms. “It’s amazing,” Deranz said behind a yawn, “How getting knocked out simply doesn’t give you the same amount of rest that sleep does.”

Looking over at Nezzie and seeing the other staring blankly at him, Deranz sighed again, “I know, I know. Yeah, of course I’m ready.” Deranz looked up and at Nezzie and nearly smiled, “Let’s show these slavers what a mistake they made by ever trying to grab the great Tobias and Hu.”
'And So it Goes'
Posts: 214
Joined: Sun Feb 16, 2003 1:07 pm

Post by Jack_Sigma »

*****

The night passed in relative silence, broken only by the sobs of a few children in neighboring cages. Figuring that the morning would be time enough to do everything and locate the girl, the boys decided to spend the night resting, making sure they had their wits and their reflexes about them for the day to come. First though, the boys had to prepare themselves for their mission. They knew that they had no true privacy, but the boys were also sure that the guards wouldn’t be at their most vigilant at night. Taking turns, the boys used the pretense of using the bathroom to set up behind the small ‘privacy curtain’ and remove their necklaces. Deranz went first, his back to the guards, his front to the curtain, deftly pulling off the necklace, and then extracting the wire from inside the rope. Glancing around, Deranz took stock of the guards.

There were three on duty, two humans and a Wee’quay, and none seemed to be paying any particular attention to the kids. In the far corner from the cage that Deranz had first chose, one of the humans dozed peacefully, while close to him, the other human and the Wee’quay played some card game, possibly Smuggler’s Run from the number of cards each was holding. Deranz hadn’t picked this cage out by accident, upon entering the holding building, it wasn’t hard to see where the guards’ station was set up. A table, a few chairs, and several empty bottles of various liquors decorated one corner of the room, and Deranz picked the cage furthest from. Now, with no one paying any sort of attention to a boy behind a bathroom curtain across the room, Deranz started working on his binders. A few days of training couldn’t make anyone perfect, but hours of practice at a single task could easily make them decent. Eyes constantly shifting back and forth from his binders and the slacking guards, Deranz fingers worked the wire into the gaps in the binders, looking for the three places he had to poke and prod to short out the lock mechanism. In reality, the process ended up taken about an extra forty-five seconds on the practice time, with Deranz cursing himself for every extra second.

A soft pop and a release of pressure against Deranz’ wrists let him know he was done. Crouching down and making himself as small as possible, Deranz slipped off his binders and picked up the remaining part of the necklace. Working quickly, Deranz tied the rope around the inside of his left forearm, the different poison knots facing up from the inside of his arm. The wire came next, and Deranz methodically straightened it, then broke it into three pieces at preset breaking points. The wire was sharp on both sides, and the breaking points were designed to leave sharp ends at each break. Once he had the three needles, Deranz sighed, looked around, and gathered himself again. He was still unobserved, and now he took a necessary second to steady his nerves for the next part. What he was about to do was dangerous for himself, but the best possible way to conceal his weapon. Breathing slowly and measuredly, Deranz took the first needle and inserted one end into the center of the black knot, which turned out to be surprisingly thick. Careful not to push too hard through the knot and stab himself with a poison needle, Deranz finally stopped when he was fairly confident that the needle was lodged in the center of the poison knot. Releasing the breath he hadn’t known he was holding, Deranz proceeded to bend up the other sharp end of the needle, so that it wouldn’t stab the inside of his elbow.

Having done the black knot which would have simply paralyzed him had he made a mistake, Deranz turned to the other needles and the two poison knots. Another minute later, Nezzie saw a relieved Deranz come out from behind the privacy curtains, binders apparently still on, but no necklace around his neck. Deranz’ sleeves covered the construct on his forearm, and the way he held his hands ensured that no wrinkle in his clothes was visible. Plopping down next to Nezzie, Deranz heard the other snicker in his ear.

“What?” Deranz asked, seeing the sly grin on Nezzie’s face.

“Is that sweat on your forehead?”

Holding down a laugh, Deranz just looked back at his friend, “Listen, when you do it in an hour or so, you’ll have sweat on your forehead too.”

Nezzie just shrugged, and the boys lapsed into silence once more. They didn’t want their noise attracting attention, so anything they said was quiet and brief. Finally getting a chance to truly rest, Deranz leaned back and let his head sit against the bars of the cage. Closing his eyes, Deranz tried to go to sleep, but a thought kept interrupting his attempts at peaceful reverie. As the soft sobs from around the room subsided as more children fell asleep, Deranz could barely imagine what those kids must be feeling. For Deranz and Nezzie, this was simply a job; they were young but they had been at this long enough to expect success given the resources at their disposal. The other kids though… what would Hu and Tobias really be thinking right now, having been snatched from their life into chains, or even kidnapped off of a ship, possibly seeing parents or relatives killed in the process? The slavers were abhorrent people, but beyond everything else, Deranz couldn’t imagine the confusion, the fear in the captured kids minds. No concrete thoughts began to form, but Deranz had the vague impression that if he could somehow free these kids without compromising his own job and life, he might go out of his way to do it. After all, Deranz thought as he tried to fall asleep in a cage in a roomful of slaves, Nezzie was planning to go out of his way to kill Tenesh, so Deranz could just as easily take a moment out for the other kids.

Well… if it’s expedient, at least…

*****
The morning came quickly enough, and guards banging on cage bars with various blunt objects woke the kids from whatever nightmares had haunted their dreams into one that they couldn’t wake up from. Most were still too groggy or shocked to start crying again, but as usual, stifled sobs added to the cacophony of morning sounds.

Food was brought through for the kids; some base gruel that had been cooked up in quantity with whatever cheap food processor that the slavers had gotten. Unvaried for different species, the gruel was a food that Rodians, Twi’leks, humans, and even Ithrians could enjoy without any major stomach problems arising, other than the usual nausea and indigestion. It was rumored that the gruel killed Verpine who ate it, but the Kurzhii didn’t supply Verpine slaves, and so were confident in its non-lethal and semi-nutritious success.

Deranz and Nezzie ate their food reluctantly, finally taking a moment to take stock of the other prisoners in the hazy morning light that filtered in through a few small windows around the top of the main wall of the holding facility. Before leaving on this mission, Deranz and Nezzie had drilled into their heads the picture of the girl they were supposed to find, as well as some vital information about the girl. At 16, Nenya Dirin was already a very good looking girl, her dark hair and dark eyes giving her a very homely local town girl, as opposed to some of the glitzy models to be found on the Holonet. Surprising for a colonist’s daughter, even in the picture the boys could detect a hint of condescension and an uplift to the girl’s nose that wasn’t usually present in a poor farmer’s daughter. The boys had only seen a head shot of the girl, but it was enough to inspire bored daydreams of saving damsels in distress in Deranz. Princess and the dragon dreams aside, Deranz still realized that this was nothing more than a job, not an idealistic quest for some higher purpose.

Not having to hide their curiosity, the boys spent their breakfast staring into the other cages, trying to find their mark. They spotted Nenya a few minutes into their search, a very pretty girl with long curly dark hair and a face of soft panes and curves. The softness of her face gave her a very innocent look, but her dark eyes and dark expression expressed her fear in the most obvious terms. Fairly tall for a girl, Nenya had already began to grow into her body, and at sixteen would be a very pricey sale for some prospective buyer. Amidst her fear, the condescending expression that Nenya had had in her picture was entirely missing, leaving only a sooty and bewildered young girl, whose carriage showed very little hope for the future.

A minute later, one of the guards announced that the children had another ten minutes to eat, before they would be herded out into another holding area outside, where they would all be together in an enclosed open space. This served the purpose of giving the customers that arrived early an advance look at the goods for sale before the auction was planned to start later in the day. Finishing their food, the boys stood to prepare to go outside, deciding that outside would be time enough to confront the girl, and prepare her to bolt when Warlord Dyess’ troops assaulted the base later in the day. In truth, the boys felt like they had plenty of time to set up the entire operation, and there was little for them to do in the meanwhile. Almost cracking jokes to avoid the boredom, Deranz and Nezzie nonetheless kept their faces schooled and sad while they waited to be transferred outside, where the next part of their plan would begin.

*****

Dark and vengeful eyes stared at Hu and Tobias from across the room of cages while the boys ate their breakfast and looked around for Nenya. Heavy brows shaded a countenance that could in no way be called pretty, nor particularly intelligent, and a face that was covered with minor scars and bumps from a tough life. As strange as it would seem, the face still belonged to a youth, a boy of around eighteen years or so, hardened by a life with too little love and too little brains. The boy was nonetheless big, thick with muscle developed from various labor jobs over the years of his childhood. Little weakness was expressed in the large boy, whose hands were bound just as every other kid’s in the place, but when he walked, he limped painfully on his left knee. A pain which was clearly nothing new, and the wrinkles around the corners of the boy’s eyes attested to a long time of dealing with the burden.

The boy ate food and waited to go outside like everyone else, but despair wasn’t the predominant emotion on his features. In fact, brown eyes smoldered with a fierce fire, and rage painted its war sign in the boy’s entire carriage. He was quiet, but if the guards could have picked out anyone in the group who could possibly be a trouble child, every one would have said him. In fact, he was watched very closely, as from the first it was obvious he would try something. Now, as the group of children was escorted by a group of six or seven guards, the boy gravitated towards Tenesh, who was leading the move into the holding pen set up next to the stage in the wide clearing in the center of the camp. His eyes would drift towards the Twi’lek, then towards Hu and Tobias, and make the loop several times. Sometimes, his eyes would tarry from their business and rest for a second or two on the somewhat martyr-like expression on Nenya’s face, an angel walking to her doom. The boy had noticed Hu and Tobias’ attention to her, it was obvious by exactly where the boys had been looking what they were interested in. Nenya really was a beautiful girl, the kind of girl that perpetual losers dreamed about after every time they stumbled home licking their wounds. If Deranz had had the damsel in distress dream once or twice, it was because he had other good dreams to fill his nights. For this boy and others like him, it was a dream that achieved a vividness tantamount to reality, because in truth, he really didn’t have much else to dream about. Most other dreams of money or fame were so farfetched that not even his subconscious would dare express them.

Now, eyes once more on Tenesh, the boy steeled his jaw and took a determined step forward towards the brutal slaver enforcer. He was about in the middle of his determined stride forward when a blue blur attatched itself to his neck, and the boy found himself staring down the hard end of an arm where every muscle was in sharp relief and several fantastic and terrible creatures staring at him in black paint, so that he could almost feel their breath on his chin.

Tenesh stared at the boy from the root of the arm, purple ice in his eyes.

“I sincerely hope that you’ve abandoned any thought of escape or struggle right now,” The Twi’lek hissed through sharpened teeth and sickening breath from some sort of half-live last meal.

The boy swallowed but his own rage was still alive, and he spoke through the fear bubbling up in his throat, “I’m not planning to run away or struggle, I want to make a deal with you.”

The Twi’lek’s eyes tightened and a feral grin appeared on his face, “And what kind of deal would you possibly have to offer me?”

“The deal’s not for you,” the boy replied, now almost brazenly, “It’s for your boss, Narju, I have information that’s really important.”

Still holding the boy by the throat, Tenesh put him down on the ground and tightened his grip. The boy coughed and sputtered, his air cut off as violent grubby fingers dug into his esophagus, “And what’s to prevent me from squeezing the information out of you, boy?”

The pressure let up, and the boy sucked in a few precious breath, coughing all the while,

“I won’t tell you,” the boy replied, “I’ve got nothing to lose, I’m dead either way, and right now, I’m not sure death is worse than being sold. It’s good info, your boss will need it.”

“Fine,” Tenesh said, “so tell me what it is, and I’ll take it to Narju, and he’ll decide on a reward.”

“No,” the boy coughed out, “I’ll tell you what it’s about though, I recognize a member of the Vuun Thieves Guild here, infiltrating your camp. It’d be better for you to know who. I’ll tell Narju, and I want to make a deal with him.”

Tenesh looked thoughtful for a moment, then smiled again, sharp teeth flashing out again, “I almost like you boy, and if what you say is true, then maybe Narju really will give you something. But,” and here Tenesh’s hand tightened once more on the boy’s neck, harder and fiercer that before, “if you’re lying, and this is some kind of ploy for whatever it is trick you have planned… I… I will personally skin you and sell your skin to a friend I have that collects hypodermi. He’s a scientist, he’ll like a young specimen, he doesn’t get many of those. You still want to bother Narju?”

The boy was let go once more, and valiantly tried to hold back his coughs, simply nodding his reply with his eyes closed tight, letting the air back into his lungs in measured gasps.

“Fine,” Tenesh replied, and after yelling a few commands to the other group escorts, he stepped away from the group with the boy walking right ahead of him, the end of his neurowhip poking the boy in the back from time to time to make him walk faster. They arrived at the command tent a few seconds later, and the boy was left under escort outside the tent while Tenesh went inside to talk to Narju. Another few minutes later, another slaver guard reappeared to take the boy into the command center.

The central room of the command center was a sparsely decorated reception chamber, presumably for doing business with the various clientele that made their way through the slaver’s camp, as well as coordinating the activities of ongoing camp construction crews, who still weren’t done fully establishing the base in the country-side. Now, Narju took his place on a throne-like construct that was simply a large metal chair at one end of the room. To his credit, Narju sat behind a wide desk of a material that may have been natural wood. It was entirely possible that one of the lead slavers in the far-spanning Kurzhii organization, upon getting an assignment to start up a new colony and operation in a new sector, would bring a favored real wood desk from his former assignment. In that respect, it was also an indicator that Narju was a big name in the Kurzhii organization, to have been granted this position at all, the equivalent of a vigo in Black Sun or a regent in the Empire. Now, the boy stood facing Narju, a large brute of a human who resembled an indigenous barbarian from some ice planet. The furs of dead animals that Narju had personally hunted hung about the man in a heavy vest, different colors of furs from across the universe, some beautiful, some frightening, but all well tailored. The clothes were not the only reason Narju resembled a Viking or savage, his red hair hung to his shoulders, and a thick red beard completed the image. In reality, Narju was as barbaric as he was brutal; he was known as the Savage or Brute, and his lieutenants affectionately referred to him as Odin, a true Hannibal who adapted perfectly to the constructs of the technological age, and chose slaving to be his niche. Now, Narju faced the boy, his massive frame content to sit in his chair, arms crossed, expression serious, and not entirely amused.

“Speak,” the slave Boss rumbled, “and don’t waste my time.”

“There are active members of the Vuun Thieves Guild in your camp, and you don’t know they’re there. I don’t know why they’re there, and I don’t know what they’re doing here, but I know for a certainty what they are,” the boy spat out, now waiting expectantly. Thugs were always impressed by bigger thugs, and Narju was huge in the boy’s eyes.

Narju sat silently for a moment, then thundered once more, “And what is it you’d like for this information, slave?”

Here the boy gathered up his courage and anger and hurried on, “I’m an able man, I’m strong and I’ll work hard… I wanna work for you, Boss Narju, and I’m sure I won’t disappoint as a soldier for your cause.”

“So you want to join the ranks, eh boy?” Narju laughed, a hearty sound from a big man, “I sense that that’s not all though, there’s something else, eh boy?”

The boy grew red, a red that was a mix of a blush and a flush of anger. “First, I have a grudge against these Vuun thieves. After you’re done with them and get whatever information you need, I wanna be the one to kill them, or carry out whatever punishment you think of.” The boy paused, and took a deep breath, “And second, since I’m sure you pay your men, I’d expect the same would go for me. But… I want… I want Nenya, one of the slave girls you have for sale now. You won’t have to pay me for years, we’ll settle on a price and we’ll work it out of my salary, so that I have just enough to eat and live, and the rest will go to you for as long as it takes to pay off the debt.”

Narju’s mirth faded and the large man grew serious, an odd light in his eye. “So you’ve thought this out for a while, eh? You’ve had your eye on her? You probably see yourself as her savior. A dashing knight to save the lady in distress. Are you sure you’d be doing her a favor? Even if I agreed to all this, don’t you think she might be better off serving as a concubine for some wealthy official or aristocrat, where at least her every need will be seen to? I’m sure for her there’s no difference between you or whoever buys her… how will you convince her to love you any more than anyone else who seeks to violate her innocence against her will?”

Narju’s questions cut deep to the heart of the boy, whose teeth ground against each other as his smouldering eyes flared, “I’ll be paying you for her. She’ll be mine just like she’d be anyone else’s. Yeah I’ll save her, I’ll make her know that at least life with me is better to the possibilities of what the highest bidder might do to her. After all, there are some sick and twisted people out there. All I’ll ask is a good meal and a warm bed at the end of a day, and that’s not too much.”

Narju pressed on, “And if she still refuses to love you, boy?”

The boy’s face took on a stubborn set, “And in the end, if she still refuses, I’ll still have paid for her. She’ll still be my property.”

Now a wicked grin came on Narju’s face, and the Boss finally leaned back in his throne, “Well boy, we may be able to work it out. I’ve seen the girl you’re talking about though. Nenya… a real jewel of a girl, a prize catch. She’d fetch a pretty price if we sold her today. You’d have to work a lot of years on the salary I pay my grunts to pay her off.”

“I’d be your man for life ‘till then. I’d be a good soldier. I’m tough.” The determined way the boy said this gave even Narju pause. Sometimes, in the line of work that Narju was involved in, it was necessary to keep an open mind and be on the lookout for any opportunities that might otherwise be missed. If what this boy said was true, and there really were Thieves Guild agents in the camp, it was worth a very great deal to know what they were doing there, and why. Whenever the Vuun Thieves Guild was involved, there was no such thing as too prepared, and no such thing as having covered all the angles. The fact that they had infiltrated his camp so easily and it was only by the grace of a slave’s knowledge that they could be picked out already spoke to how many steps behind Narju was. It was lucky that this kid was a stupid thug, but a stupid thug with a dream. After all, what was the short term gain in selling the girl compared to a man that would be blindly loyal enough to take a blaster bolt for you for the rest of his life, because he would be working off a debt he never really could repay. It was opportunities like these that had to be taken advantage of, and Narju had gotten to where he was by understanding this.

“Alright boy, if the information proves good, and this entire exercise proves worthwhile, I’ll agree to your terms and give you the girl, and a job. As a sign of faith, you’ll be my guest until I find out you’re wrong, and painfully torture you before I put you to death.” The boy nodded, but could contain a dumb grin, “Don’t worry, there’s no way I’m wrong.”

Narju cut him off, “If you’re right, and it’s worthwhile info, I’ll give you Nenya, and we’ll work out the sales details later. As my guest, your binders will remain on, but you won’t have to remain in the general slave area. You can sit in the shade under the watchful eye of my guards until I call for you. Now, tell me who this spy is?”

Eager to get right to business, the information spilled out of the boy in a flood, “Not spy, but spies, sir. Two of them. They’re actually kids, younger than me, I think about sixteen or so, but they’re definitely members of the Thieves Guild.”

“You think that information about kids is worth anything??” Narju growled, suddenly standing, “You waste my time with some junior thief who got caught by us?”

“Wait!” the boy nearly shouted, “Let me go on. There’s two of them, I don’t know what names they’re using but their real names and Deranz and Nezeliezer. They were taken in by the Thieves Guild about six years ago, and they’re well known around Vuun. When they were little, they roamed the urchin gangs, and were called the ‘little ghosts’ or ‘little devils,’ or something of the sort. In the past six years, there’s been stories about them throughout the colonies, rumors about the Guild’s prodigee kids, under the tutelage of one of the old wise masters, although no one knows which one. And they’re here, and they’re pretending to be slaves, and I’d bet that they’ve got a better reason for being here than getting sold off. After all, if they got picked up off the work lines like me and some of the others, do you really think two successful thieves in the Vuun Guild would be standing in line to do manual labor?” The boy was on the very of exploding, and finally spat at the ground in disgust.

“You really hate them that much?” Narju asked quietly, “What did they do to you?”

The boy looked down and was silent, his jaw clenched once more. Narju wasn’t going to let it pass, “Look me in the eye if you want to work for me boy, and tell me why you hate them. The whole reason!”

The boy looked up at Narju, his eyes nearly tearing, “Because they’re living the life I should be, I should’ve been recruited by that guy in the alley, I was the biggest, the strongest. But these two little runts came in, and stole it from me, and in the process, gave me this limp for life. They shattered my knee, and cut open my friend’s knee. He couldn’t walk again, and now he’s dead. Couldn’t compete, and died. I deserved that job, and they stole it from me… I deserve their life, and they stole it from me… and in return,” the boy’s eyes burned, “I want to take their lives.”

Narju simply sat there for a minute. Such blind and twisted hatred could be transformed into not simply a follower, but a worshiper. And if this really was true… Narju had done research on Rayje and Vuun and the history of the city and it’s conflicts. The Kurzhii had planted spies in the city years before the syndicate finally decided to expand operations into the Aerit System. Narju had heard of the key players in the city and all the factions pulling it one way or another, and he had heard of the urchin gangs and the well known reign of the little ghosts, who had organized and led a few gangs into serious success in the city, to the point that the urchin slums became dangerous for anyone at all mindful of their valuables, regardless of status, rank, or size. They had disappeared about six years ago, and the organization of the urchin gangs had faded for a while, but they were still rumored to be around. If these boys were really in his camp… he had to know who they were, because even if none of the stories about Deranz and Nezeliezer were true, what the boy had said made perfect sense. Vuun Thieves wouldn’t be standing in line at a work center.

“Consider it done, boy, if everything works out as you’ve said. And if you’re to work for me, I can’t keep calling you boy, now can I?” Narju smiled, “What’s your name, boy?”

The boy stood straighter and prouder, even with the binders, “Grish Darius, sir. And how should I address you, sir?”

“Lord Narju will be fine. Or Boss Narju if you prefer. I’m not entirely too picky,” The large Boss replied. “Now come Grish, you’re going to point these boys… Deranz and Nezeli..eliezer I believe? Yes, our two little spies, point them out to Tenesh, and Tenesh will bring them here. You should be here to watch us question them, no? After all, it is only justice that a man knows who it is that has accused him of a crime.”

Narju called to Tenesh, who had been standing at his right hand for the length of the conversation, “Bring me these boys, Tenesh, and soon we’ll know the truth.”

Grish and Tenesh left, leaving Narju to sit behind his wooden desk and ponder the next move. His generals and advisors were forgotten, despite their insistence on one issue or another, and Narju simply stared a blank at the door where the two Guild spies would be entering his reception room soon.

What could the Vuun Guild possibly want with him? What did he even have to steal?? Narju had to know, he refused to allow this Guild to stay so many steps ahead of him. No, he would question these spies well, and then he would be able to cut off the Guild’s move at its roots. Narju scowled, he would get this information out of the spies by any means necessary.

*****
'And So it Goes'
Posts: 214
Joined: Sun Feb 16, 2003 1:07 pm

Post by Jack_Sigma »

*****

Finally outside once more as the children were escorted to their viewing pen, Deranz allowed himself a few seconds to breath in the chill Rayje air. He had been out to the Rayje countryside several times on various assignments and training missions, but each time was a pleasure. This far from Vuun, the permanent fog of pollution and grit that hung low over the city was entirely missing. So far from any civilization, each deep breath that Deranz took filled his lungs with sweet, crisp, clean air. It was impossible to breath this deep in Vuun without coughing up a lung. Still, at this point Deranz was completely focused, and as his lungs satisfied their need for nourishment, his eyes satisfied their need for information. The camp was bustling with activity, as various buyers had already arrived and loitered around the stage, conversing with their guards and compatriots, greedily searching the emerging children for their preferred choice. The buyers that were present at the moment included a few humans, some twi'lek and a rodian, but this meant little to Deranz because they were clearly only the agents of some higher master.

While examining his surroundings, Deranz noticed some obvious stares directed his way by some of the buyers. It was understandable that slave purchasers would be interested in a large and well built man-child like Deranz, but their excited glares made Deranz skin crawl regardless. The thought of actually being sold to one of these... Deranz sighed and shook off the imagery, returning to the task at hand. What he had taken to be the central landing platform the day before turned out to be for the use of the camp personnel only. The prospective buyers' ships were landed in a clear area to the south of the camp, right beyond the last row of tents and blaster emplacements that the slavers had set up for extra protection. The supply ship that Deranz had seen the day before was missing, and the central platform was empty, leaving only the stage and a few rows of seats composing the center of the camp. The large holding pen that the children were approaching was to the left of the stage, opposite the higher-ups living quarters, and closer to those of the guards. Two large and burly human guards stood on either side of the only entrance to the holding pen, which simply consisted of four barred walls reaching at least fifteen feet into the air, their tops well beyond the reach of even Deranz, who was by far the tallest youth in the group.

On closer examination, Deranz came to a head-count of twenty-eight children, and at least ten visible guards, not including Tenesh, most of which were in the central area, while a few performed some tasks on the outskirts. Deranz also noticed several workers and technicians, but these individuals didn't look to be armed, so Deranz ignored them beyond noticing their positions. Twenty-eight was a fairly large number, and Deranz next obvious concern was the choice of escape vehicle. Surveying the buyer's ships beyond the last row of tents, Deranz eyes lit upon a fairly large transport model, flanked by two escort fighters. That could be critical if the boys had to escape the camp under fire from Warlord Dyess' ships, because if they could "convince" one of the buyers to take them on board, there would be incentive for the fighters to protect the transport ship on the way out. After picking his first choice, Deranz quickly picked out a second and third. Saving the rest of the kids was preferrable, but not part of the mission, and if things somehow went wrong, it was easily possible that he, Nezzie and Nenya would have to escape on their own.

This done Deranz relaxed a bit, and nudged Nezzie on the arm, to see what progress his friend had made in his own surveys.

"Which one?" Deranz mumbled, keeping an eye out for observative guards. Strangely enough, as the group of youth were finally corralled into the pen, Deranz noticed Tenesh walking away from the main group, a fairly large youth walking ahead of him. They seemed to be heading for the command tent. This was somewhat puzzling.

"Big one with dark green stripes, flanked by two fighters," Nezzie replied, his own eyes still flitting over the area as he spoke.

Deranz left the morose expression on his face and said nothing, signfying his assent. Each of the buyers had brought a few of their own guards with them as well, but each was flanked by no more than two. Clearly this was the standard that the Kurzhii had established for their slave auction, but this could come in handy. The gate to the pen was locked, and the guards that had escorted this kids spread out somewhat around the stage and viewing area, taking amongst themselves in clumps of two or three. The time had finally come to approach Nenya.

One of the boys next to Deranz and Nezeliezer turned to them as the lock on the cage snapped shut,

"Wh-what do you think will happen to us?" he stammered, his carriage and eyes clearly reflecting the fear in his voice. Deranz wished he could comfort him, but that wasn't part of the mission, and doing so could compromise the boys' covers. Instead, Hu looked back at the boy, the same confusion and uncertainty playing over his features.

"I dunno... that big blue guy said after they sell us maybe they'll let us go," Hu responded warily. Tobias just shrugged, unwilling to give an answer, and the two half-brothers made their way into the crowd of kids. A quick search, and the two boys were next to Nenya, who stood by herself like most of the kids, eyes down and silent tears dripping from her cherubic cheeks. The martyr-like way the girl held herself caused a twinge of sorrow and pity deep in Deranz' soul, but his reason quickly got the better of him and crushed that emotion deep down as far as it could go. Telfass had taught them better than that; emotion could get you killed, and while it had its uses, it could trap you in inescapable situations. No reward or amount of loot was worth your life. In any case, Deranz figured he just had a soft spot for pretty girls... it was easy to see Nenya inspiring the same feeling in any male that saw her.

"You know," Deranz said softly enough so that just she and Nezzie, standing next to him could hear, "You're very pretty."

Nenya looked up, eyes flashing with momentary anger, and part of the haughtiness of her picture played over her face, "And what does that have to do with anything here, in this place?" the girl spat out, looking Deranz and Nezzie up and down. "Just leave me alone, in a few hours I'll never see either of you again, and we'll all have our own problems."

That twinge again, and again Deranz crushed it, as Nezzie now spoke, "That's not entirely true, and in fact, you're a large part of our problem, and we're a large part of the solution to yours."

This time when Nenya spoke, the haughtiness was gone, and only sorrow and defeat filled her voice, "Listen, I don't know what you want, but please, just leave me alone. I have no idea what you two want from me, but you're not going to get it, especially in a public place like this. I've already had guards proposition me for their 'assistance,' if only I'd be nice to them, and if I've refused them, I don't really see what you two can offer."

"No Nenya, it's not like that at all," Deranz whispered, the soft tones of his voice and the use of her real name suddenly drawing Nenya's teary eyes up to the boy's face, "What Nezzie meant to say it that we're here to rescue you. Your parents want you back, and they've paid to have you brought back to them. Don't worry anymore, no harm will come to you. We don't want anything from you other than your cooperation when it's time to make our move. You have to trust us Nenya, because it's the only way we'll all get out of here alive and free."

"But... but..." Nenya frantically looked from one boy to the other, "You're just kids, just like me. I mean, you're pretty big for a kid, but you're in binders just like I am, how could you two possibly do anything against all these guards and guns?"

"We're members of the Vuun Thieves Guild," Nezzie replied, voice quiet and as emotionless as ever, "You may have heard of it, but I assure you, we know what we're doing, and when it's time to go, you have to do everything we say. We'll rescue you, it's our job."

Deranz listened with admiration at how Nezzie could strictly keep his iron cool. The girl again stared at the boys, first at Nezzie, and then at Deranz. A glint of hope almost shone through the dirt, grim, and tear lines on her face. Finally unable to contain herself, she broke out crying and threw her head on Deranz' shoulder, uncontrollably shaking with sobs,

"They killed them... my aunt, my uncle, and my grammie... they killed them all, said they were worthless to them... they just took me and some other kids from the ship... by the stars, they killed them all..."

"I know," Deranz crooned in her ear, "It's going to be alright, don't worry, everything's going to be alright." As he said this, Deranz couldn't help but feeling a small spark of pride. Despite this beautiful girl crying her soul out on his shoulder, this time, there hadn't been a twinge.

*****

Grish Darius emerged from Boss Narju's command tent, a new pride in his backbone and a new lease on life making the weight of his future seem light for the first time in many years. He knew that he was right, and that those slime Deranz and Nezeliezer were Vuun Thieves, which meant that there was nothing that could go wrong, and soon enough, Nenya would be his, and he'd be able to grind his boots in the faces of those sniveling thieves as a member of the proud Kurzhii organization. Those fools thought they were so smart, but here he was, Grish Darius, taking the worst possible situation and turning it into the best possible, while his enemies would soon be eating the mud he had walked on.

Behind the boy, Tenesh emerged, dark and imposing as ever, contemplating the fate of the boy who now walked like a king in front of him, despite his binders. Narju was right, this kid would make a fanatical devotee, but only if he was really telling the truth. For some reason, Tenesh believe him; he didn't think the boy was smart enough to make up such a complicated ploy. But, if for some reason Tenesh had misjudged him, he was still keeping a wary eye out. The boy could always simply be wrong too, and a case of mistaken identity would cost the kid as much as willful deceit would. Given that these kids were supposed to be Vuun Thieves, this game had to be played out smartly. Narju needed information from them, not dead bodies, or at least not yet, and Tenesh enjoyed extracting information from little fools who stuck their necks a little too deep into the hrayne beast's lair. This had to be done intelligently, because first, if the kid was wrong and they killed the "spies" anyway then Narju stood to lose a good bit of money for the slave. At the same time, if the kid was right...

Simply enough, they needed to know more. It'd help if they took the boys in to see Narju one at a time. It'd be harder for the kids to corroborate their stories that way, if they didn't know what the other had said. At the same time, one at a time they'd be easier to control if they did try anything.

"So, which of them is it?" Tenesh asked the kid, prodding Grish ahead of him in the direction of the holding pen.

Grish stopped and peered into the pen from across the stage and seats. Suddenly his eyes hit upon Deranz, standing tall with Nenya's head on his shoulder. He was easy to pick out because of his size, and Nezeliezer was right there next to him, but fury exploded anew in Grish's chest. Grinding his teeth to the point that Tenesh could clearly hear it, Grish tried to calm himself with images of Deranz' bloodied corpse lying under the barrel of his blaster.

"There, the big one with Nenya's head on his shoulder, and the smaller one next to him," Grish practically spat as he said this, venom dripping from his tongue, his hate creating a dark aura around the boy. "They want something to do with Nenya, I'm telling you, those vrelts want something from her."

Tenesh couldn't help goading the kid, "Maybe they want the same thing you want, eh? I mean, she is a fairly pretty girl, maybe they see it too... In fact," Tenesh went on, seeing Grish's face grow darker by the word, "If you're right and she's yours, would you be up for sharing her sometimes? I mean, I don't generally like human females, but there's something about that one that really brings it out in me..."

Grish spun, unable to contain himself, "Now listen here!"

"What?" Tenesh's voice was frozen, his face cold, and his eyes shone with a danger light. Grish stood for a second, chest heaving with fury, then stopped and turned, saying nothing.

"That's better," Tenesh said, "And don't worry, I don't want anything to do with her. With the exception of a few individuals, your whole species disgusts me. Come on, let's go get these supposed Vuun Thieves. We'll take the big one first."

Grish still said nothing, and silently followed Tenesh towards the pen.

*****

"Tenesh" Nezzie hissed, and Deranz gently pushed Nenya away from him, and used turning towards Nezzie as a pretext to glancing in the direction that Tenesh had gone. Indeed, the Twi'lek enforcer was heading in their direction, being trailed by a very familiar looking youth in binders. He was heading towards the pen, but Deranz knew instantly that something was wrong. Very wrong.

Tenesh seemed to be looking in the direction of the boys, but more obvious was the spiteful glare the kid behind him was directing at Deranz and Nezzie. Hot coals of eyes seemed to want to burn their way through Deranz' skull and out the back, but who the frell was the kid?

"Nezzie, that kid, you recognize him at all?"

Nezzie peered stealthily over at the boy, glanced all around to hide his glance and then peered again. Suddenly, his breath caught ever so slightly, which for Nezzie was tanamount to a full fledged gasp. "That's... Grish?"

"Grish?" Deranz repeated, trying to place the name, and suddenly he realized why their entire situation had just turned ugly. Images of a dark alleyway, an angry boy and his rodian companion, Nezzie unconscious on the ground, a desparate fight, and finally Deranz and Nezzie emerging triumphant flooded Deranz' head. If that was Grish, then he knew what they were, and if he was with Tenesh, clearly the Twi'lek had been informed of the boys' allegiances. Mentally cursing, Deranz instinctively went into 'Hu' mode, while his mind raced as to how to salvage the situation.

So the slavers knew that he and Nezzie were members of the Thieves Guild, or at least they thought they knew. They had no more reason to trust Grish than they did to believe Hu and Tobias, so at this point it was his word against theirs. No one would ever think Grish smart enough to come up with this as a ploy, but that night was so many years ago, that he could have easily mistaken Hu and Tobias for two boys who had beaten him up and caused him a lot of pain. The only and best recourse of action right now would be to play Hu, and see if he couldn't convice the slavers that Grish was mistaken in their identity. That could hurt, but he had to try. Also, the boys knew that Warlord Dyess would be attacking sometime today, but they weren't sure when. The information had assuredly already reached the Warlord by now, but it was entirely up for grabs as to how quickly he'd respond to it.

Content for a second in his course of action, Deranz tried to calm himself, only to curse himself again. The necklace! It was certain that if not immediately, Tenesh would notice that the boys weren't wearing their precious necklaces, and how to explain this coincidence? Deranz tried to brainstorm, but his time had run out. Tenesh was at the gate, being let in by the guards, Grish waiting outside it. Without hesitation, Tenesh walked up to Deranz and grabbed him by the back of the collar.

"Come on boy, you're coming with me," the Twi'lek snarled, as the frightened Hu looked to his brother for assistance, who could only look on in horror as Hu was dragged from the pen.

"Tobias!" Hu called out, as his brother yelled to Tenesh, "Wait, where are you taking him? We were promised we'd be kept together!"

"You were promised nothing," the Twi'lek replied, tossing Hu out the front gate of the pen and pushing him forward with his neuro-whip.

"What's going on, are you letting me go?" the bewildered Hu asked, as Tenesh barked a sharp laugh behind him,

"You get a great honor boy, you get to meet Narju, your host at this little party."

Hu kept walking, and Grish trailed Tenesh, like a faithful puppy, waiting for his treat. The walk was short and quick, and without any pause Hu was marched into the command tent, where the oversized Narju waited behind his real wood desk. Deranz took in the room, noticing the pertinent detail of the four armed guards who occupied the room with Narju, two on either side of the tent. Tenesh placed Deranz in the center of the room, and pushed Grish to the left side, in between the two guards there.

"Stay there and don't move, and don't say a word," Tenesh ordered Grish, while himself taking up a position a little behind Deranz and to the right side. His neurowhip was unfurled and ready at hand.

"So," Boss Narju boomed from his spot behind his desk, slouching down in his throne and placing one boot on the table, "Do you know why you've been brought here, boy?"

"Because you're going to give my necklace back?" the simple-minded Hu responded.

Narju seemed taken aback by this comment for a second, and Tenesh's eyes narrowed as the enforcer clearly berated himself for not noticing earlier that the youth's prized possession was no longer around his neck. Narju raised a questioning eyebrow towards Tenesh, and Tenesh sighed,

"A necklace that was supposedly his mother's... nothing but colored twine, but he and his "brother" each had one. They raised a fuss when the doc tried to remove them, and kept quiet as long as we let them keep 'em." that said, Tenesh turned back to Hu, "What happened to your necklace boy?" The question was punctuated by a crack of the whip, and Hu dropped to one knee as pain shot through his back and crackled out to the tips of his limbs.

"Please sir," Hu pleaded, "Last night I asked one of the guards for some food, but he said no, and when I asked again he came in and kicked me... I was upset and so was Tobias, and I raised a fuss, so he kicked me again, and then he just ripped our necklaces off," here Hu let a tear drop to the ground, something that came fairly easy for Deranz with his back still on fire from the neuro-whip, "He said that we get 'em back if we sit down and shaddup, and that's what we did sir, honest. We sat down and shaddup, and please sir, I just want my mamma's necklace back, it's all I have."

Narju looked at the child groveling before him, and for the first time a hint of doubt crept into the back of his mind. Either Grish was mistaken, or this kid could flat-out act. It was time to see what pain could extract from the boy. Narju could've gone about this the civil way, and asked the kid a bunch of questions about his past, then brought the other one in and did the same, and kept going until they slipped up, or didn't. But that wasn't Narju's way. That's not why he was called Brute. Pain was just as effective as guile.

"This boy here, Grish, makes the claim that you're not who you appear to be. He says you're a member of the Vuun Thieves Guild, and for some reason, I'm liable to believe him," Narju began, "what do you have to say to that?"

"Sir?" Hu looked up, this time looking truly confused. He looked at Grish and then back to Narju, and repeated this, this time holding an extra second on Grish, examining him a bit closer, "I don't know who he is, sir. And as for bein' part of the Vuun Thieves, I hear that they're all smart and such. I dunno sir, but everyone tells me I'm not so smart. I'm a good worker sir, I swear, I don't steal!"

Narju made a motion with his left hand, and Tenesh whipped Hu again, the boy grimacing painfully and letting out a choked sob. "Please, sir..." Narju made the motion again and again Tenesh whipped the boy.

"I hate begging," Narju sighed, "So don't do it again. Now, what was that about you not being a thief? Are you sure about that?"

"Honest... sir..." Hu choked out, and the whip lashed out again, sending the boy into convulsions on the ground. The whip hurt like nothing else, and while Deranz was overacting it, his back was on fire. He had hoped that the necklace ploy would get Tenesh out of the room to ask their guards from the night before. He thought he could take Narju, but with both of them in the room, he stood absolutely no chance. He had to think of something, and he had to think of it fast, because if he didn't, soon enough he wouldn't have the strength to fight when the opportunity arose.

*****

As Tenesh led Deranz out of the pen, Nezeliezer was searching his environment, trying to think, trying to figure out what in the Abyss he was going to do. Their cover had been blown, that much was clear, but what the frell to do about it? He had to act, Deranz was in serious trouble, and there was no way that he would be able to act with both the slave boss's guards and Tenesh in that command tent at once. Nezzie had to figure out a way to draw out Tenesh. It was time to throw things into motion, Nezzie had to create a distraction, but how? Two guards at the pen door, another six... no seven in the vicinity, although one was considerably further away. Along with that, several buyers were present, along with two guards each. The stage and seating area was starting to fill up with people, individuals who certainly distrusted each other and would react to anything within a second's notice. He had to stir things up, but how?

First, Nezzie had to get the guards into the pen. There were also almost thirty kids in here, more than half male, and many of them larger than average for their age: good slave material.

Nenya was still standing next to him, although she looked stunned by this newest development. Hope was gone again, and the girl was dumbfounded by having gained a chance and lost it all within such a short period of time.

"Nenya, listen to me," Nezzie said, but the girl kept staring at the tent Deranz had just entered with Tenesh, unresponsive, "Nenya, listen to me," Nezzie snapped, and finally the girl looked over at him.

"Now is the time you do what I tell you to. We have to act, and act quickly, or Deranz is in serious trouble. Listen carefully, I'm going to start screaming at you, and you need to hit me. Slap me, hard, you hear?"

"But... I don't understand," the girl replied, looking more confused than ever.

"Sith girl, you don't need to understand, just do it! We're going to get you out of here, nothing has changed, but listen, and do what I tell you. I'm going to yell at you, and when I push you on the shoulder, slap me hard with your bound hands." Nezzie said, and waited for the girl's nod. She gave a tentative one, and Nezzie sighed and looked to the guards at the gate. They were looking away, but not for long. "Alright, and don't take any of this personally."

Before Nenya could say anything, Nezzie faced up with her and took half a step back to create some distance, and started screaming at the top of his lungs, "You sitthin' whore! You think you're better than me?? By what frelling right do you get off on telling me off? Look around you piece of frist intestine! We're about to be sold off as sithhin' slaves! I've known girls like you, thinking that their looks give them a right to walk over every man that they meet. Well it's not like that here! You're going to get sold... do you have any idea what'll happen to you when you're some fat businessman's concubine? Oh what a shock that'll be, you pretentious little snot!"

The entire yard was looking at the boy screaming his brains out at this pretty girl, and the entire yard saw he boy push her on the shoulder with his last word. The girl, without a second thought, brought up her bound hands and clocked the boy across the face, sending his sprawling to the ground.

"You damned pittu," the boy scowled, and started rising to his knees, ready to fly at the girl and clearly start pummeling her, all etiquette aside. The guards at the gate had seen much more than enough, and had to act before it was too late, unlatching the gate and yelling to two more to watch the entrance, they ran in and one of them grabbed the boy right before he flew into the girl. The guard tried to hold him, but the clearly furious boy struggled out of his grib and kicked him in the leg in the process, and flew backwards into the second guard with enough momentum to knock the man over and bounce off himself. The boy landed on the ground facedown, and wasn't moving. The first guard was looking as the second toppled over though, and noticed something fly out of his pocket in the process.

"Hey Frist, you dropped something," said the first guard as he went to help his companion up and pick up what he had lost. Picking it up, the guard was shocked to recognize the object. Quickly reaching for his own pocket, the guard noticed that, indeed, his wallet was missing. Frist had gotten up by then, and the first guard stared bloody murder at him,

"Why you thieving little vrelt!" the first guard bellowed, waving his wallet in the air, "You think you can get away with stealing from me?"

"Wait," a confused Frist called out, "I swear, I didn't steal..." but it was too late, and the first guard had thrown himself on Frist, fists flying, trying to pound the thieving guard into the ground. As both toppled, one of the guards newly at the gate cursed and rushed in to break up the fight underway between the other guards in the middle of the pen.

Meanwhile, on his stomach, having slipped the first guard's wallet into the second's pocket during his bouncing around, Nezzie pulled one hand out of his binders and grabbed the needle out of the black knot, the paralysis inducer, and clutched it tightly in his right hand so that just the tip stuck out, quickly inserting his hand back into the binder. As the fight developed behind him, Nezzie waited until he saw what he wanted, the third guard running towards the first pair. Getting on his knees, Nezzie lunged at the guard's ankles, as if to trip him. In the process, Nezzie stabbed the needle through the guard's pants leg into his ankle. The man stumbled and then fell the the ground incapacitated.

Somewhere along the line in Deranz and Nezzie's training, one of their various teachers had tried to teach them ventriloquism. Each had learned the basics, but couldn't master the complicated art. What Nezzie could do though, was throw his voice somewhat. From the mass of confused and wary kids with three guards on the ground in the middle of them came a voice,

"Quick, this is our chance, grab their whips and guns!"

For kids lacking courage, all that was necessary was one brave voice, and all the none too intelligent but large boys, along with the few intelligent ones, jumped on the guards, hitting and clawing with their binders still on. Their fear from a second ago now manifesting itself as anger, the boys vented by bashing the guards with their heavy binders, which turned out to be quite hand weapons. The other four guards in the vicinity reacted as they could, the one closest ran into the mass but hesitated for an instant with whip in hand as he realized he was the lone guard surrounded by almost twenty boys, several of whom jumped on him at the first opportunity. The other guards ran in, and it was time for the next step.

Pulling his binders off and chucking them with all his strength at the next incoming guard, Nezzie grabbed the blaster out of the holster of the guard he had paralyzed, and looked around for the prospective buyer whose ship the boys had picked out in advance. He was across the way from the pen, on the other side of the seats, surrounded by his two guards, and after squeezing off a few random shots in all directions to make it look accidental, Nezzie landed the last one in the well-clothed human's leg. The man crumpled and his guards were in front of him in a second, blasters out and aiming into the crowd of kids.

It was then that Nezzie realized he had made a mistake. He had thought his efforts were enough to mask the shot as random fire, but clearly they weren't. He had also thought that the buyer's guards wouldn't fire into the slave pen, but it looked as if that was wrong too. Three more guards had entered the pen and were approaching the mass of boys, while the girls hid at the back of the pen and made themselves as small as possible. Meanwhile, the buyer's guards raised their blasters and clearly started aiming them at Nezzie. Nezzie dove, and the left bodyguard's blaster spat deadly fire.

*****

"Now then," Narju asked, his teeth showing as a wide and wicked grin covered his face, "Are you ready to tell the truth boy? You must understand that I'm willing to lose one prospective slave if it means I might have killed a Guild spy. This won't stop, because at this point I doubt you can convince me that you're not a thief. After all, if I'm wrong, I'll kill him too," Narju pointed to Grish, "But in the long run, it's not really much of a loss."

Deranz was about to answer when sounds of some sort of ruckus drifted in from outside. At first Narju seemed ready to ignore it, and waited for Deranz' answer, but then the clearly distinct sound of a blaster bolt echoed from outside, and Narju's eyes popped wide open.

"Tenesh!" the slaver boss said with a sense of urgency.

The enforcer knew his job; growling his assent the huge Twi'lek was out of the tent within a second to see what was going on. Silently thanking Nezzie for whatever plot he had managed to cook up, Deranz breathed deeply, willing the pain away. Nezeliezer had given him his chance. It was time to act.

As if reading his mind, Narju rumbled ominously, "I don't know what's going on out there, but if it has anything to do with your "brother" I assure you Tenesh will deal with the situation very quickly, very efficiently, and very painfully. Now as for you, what's your answer."

Calm, composed, an entirely different youth suddenly yet slowly rose to his feet and his full height at the center of Narju's tent.

"This doesn't concern you, Narju," Deranz said, voice cold and full of strength. Gone was Hu, the sniveling simple-minded farmer, and here was one of the 'little ghosts,' all grown up, facing Narju. So Grish had been right all along...

"What do you mean it doesn't concern me?" Narju boomed, "The Vuun Thieves Guild puts an operative... no, two operative in my camp and it doesn't concern me?? You must be joking."

"Not at all," Deranz continued, "This is simply part of a training assignment. My partner and I are still apprentices, and the mission was to get sold off as slaves to some rich fool and then rob him blind and escape. You still get your money, we complete our mission, and neither of us loses. Like I said. This doesn't concern you Narju."

The barbarian's booming laugh filled the tent, "You must be crazy. I have a reputation to maintain. You think it won't get around that I sold a bunch of thieves to my buyers?? Frell, if anything people'll think I put you up to it. That's not how good business works."

"Do you really want trouble with the Vuun Guild?" Deranz asked, his voice quiet and menacing by its calm.

Here Narju finally blew, and leaned forward in his throne, spittle flying from the corners of his mouth as he spoke, "This is my camp, and I have the authority of force over everything that goes on here! You think I'm afraid of a few petty thieves?? Your vaunted Vuun guild means bantha spit to me! The Kurzhii are not to be trifled with, and neither am I!"

Still calm and restrained as ever, Deranz sighed, "You're a fool Narju."

The guard to the right of Deranz stepped up, brandishing the butt of his rifle. "Learn manners when you speak to Lord Narju, slave!" With that, the guard brought the back of his rifle down on Deranz' shoulder.

Or tried to.

With unexpected speed for someone his size, Deranz spun out of the way of the rifle butt, his right hand coming out of the binders while his left grasped them by the middle like a club. Spinning completely around to the left, Deranz brought the binder into the guard's face with all his strength. A resounding crack filled the room as the guard's jaw shattered and blood spattered on the floor. The guard was still on his feet for a second, unconscious, in between Deranz and Narju, and Deranz pulled the blaster from his belt and quickly took both stunned guards on the left of the room in the chest. As the body of the guard in front of Deranz fell, the last guard standing in the room jumped over the body and tackled Deranz. Deranz' blaster flew out of his hand, but he didn't fall to the ground and was instead pushed back by the guard. Pivoting to throw the man off, Deranz reached into his sleeve and pulled the needle out of the black knot, bringing his right arm back up and swiping across the guard's face. A thin furrow of a scratch was drawn on the man's cheek, but when he fell to the ground, he didn't get up.

Only seconds had passed, and Narju was still behind his desk, although on his feet. Deranz reached for the blaster on the ground, but suddenly something barrelled into him from behind, sending him painfully into one of the metal posts holding the tent up. Not sure where he had miscalculated, through his daze Deranz looked up to see Grish standing over him, hands still bound. The blaster was still in reach, and Deranz through the haze that threatened to cover his vision tried to reach for it.

By then though, Narju had recovered from any surprise he had suffered and had launched himself over his desk, covering the length of the tent with surprising agility. His right fur clothed arm reached out, and his massive hand closed over Deranz' mouth and jaw. With pure brute strength, Narju lifted Deranz up off the ground by his jaw. Deranz thought he may have heard something pop, but he was beyond really thinking about it as spots danced in his field of view.

"You frelling bastard. I have to give it to you," Narju growled through his rage, "The Vuun Guild does a hell of a job with you brats. You may have even almost had me if this little punk hadn't sent you to the ground. See why it's bad to have people who hate you so much that they'd be willing to throw their lives away to kill you? If you'd noticed him, he would've been dead. Fanatical followers are great. But now you're dead. You realize that, right? You're dead."

As he said this, Narju slightly shifted the grip of his thumb and forefinger to close Deranz' nose as well, and in an instant, Deranz' air was cut off. Trying not to panick, with his left hand, Deranz clawed at the hand clenching his face, and with his right, pretending to support his left, he reached into his sleeve. Trying valiantly to remain calm and not start dry heaving for air, Deranz maintained the charade of clawing while pulling a needle out of the blue knot and sticking it into the red. The process was difficult in mid-air, and Deranz didn't think he'd have enough time to add it to the black knot that would make death instantaneous. Pulling the weapon out, precious seconds were ticking away, and Deranz could feel himself starting to choke as his vision pulsed from light to dark.

Narju's left had was still free though! And his entire body was covered in furs! Even Narju's giant hands had thick gloves, which were at the present suffocating Deranz. Only his neck and face were exposed, but if Deranz aimed for the face, Narju would more likely than not restrain his right hand. Deranz remaining time could be counted in the tens of seconds before his strength failed. He had to act. He had to act.

*****
'And So it Goes'
Posts: 214
Joined: Sun Feb 16, 2003 1:07 pm

Post by Jack_Sigma »

Tenesh emerged from Boss Narju's tent into a scene of utter chaos. The slave pen was the locus of activity in the camp, and the door to stood wide open. Inside the pen, a mass of bodies was visible as the male children threw themselves in a frenzy on the few guards who were still standing and trying to pacify the group. At least four guards were on the ground that Tenesh could see, and he thought he saw at least one more through the din of flesh and swinging limbs. The situation was out of control, but it wasn't grave in any sense, as the rest of the encampment's guards had emerged from their various posts and were converging on the holding cage. The three or four upright guards in the cage were in trouble though, because the kids had managed to secure some neurowhips and were swinging them with abandon. Meanwhile, the guards were on fairly strict orders not to do permanent damage, and so were clearly struggling in their attempts to survive and yet not kill any children.

The buyers and their guards were standing around watching the action, seeing the attempted riot unfold. They had no incentive to help, but were all fairly certain that beyond this minor delay, the auction would continue as planned. Still, in the split second that it took Tenesh to survey the surroundings, the victim of the blaster bolts was easy to pick out, as one of the buyers lay in a heap on the ground not thirty feet on the right from were Tenesh stood. His leg was charred and the man's face was contorted with pain, while his guards crouched in defensive positions around him. Their blasters raised, that split second wasn't enough time for Tenesh to stop what he saw happening. The guard furthest from Tenesh aimed and fired at the holding pen, and Tenesh could only curse as he saw a youth dive simultaneously with the shot, trying to avoid it. Instead of skewering the kid with the deadly laser bolt, somehow the youth's dive took him behind one of the few remaining standing guards in the pen, and the blaster bolt took the guard in the back right shoulder.

Tenesh's hand was already in motion, and one of the daggers from the bandolier that Tenesh was sporting cut through the air. A flower of blood blossomed from the buyer's bodyguard's wrist, and his blaster went flying out of his hand. The other bodyguard pivoted towards Tenesh but paused, the Twi'lek's harsh glare and clear rank in the camp halting him,

"Consider yourself lucky," Tenesh spat, "You even try to shoot another one of my guards or kids, and I'll have all your skulls for chalices, and your boss will get a severed head back instead of the patsy he sent to this auction."

That pacified, Tenesh returned his attention to the pen, and recognized which child it had been that the bodyguards had been aiming at. It was that frelling second Vuun spy that Grish had pointed out. No wonder the kid managed to get one of the guards shot instead of himself, but Tenesh was getting tired of these Guild brats. He was already beating one of them, and surely Narju wouldn't care if the other one got bloodied while the 'riot' was being pacified. And he would most certainly get bloodied. Motioning to the first ten guards that were on approach towards the pen, Tenesh led an imposing group of thugs towards the pen, ready to put a stop to this stupid little distraction.

Nezzie had seen all this unfold, but having managed to escape his previous mistakes, he was no longer worried. Most of the guards in the pen had been beaten down already, and only two holdouts struggled against the tide of desperate slaves. Now he had a few seconds to work with as Tenesh and a wave of guards strolled towards the pen. Nezzie calmly dipped a needle into all three knots, and then proceeded to do the same thing with the second for backup. He picked up a blaster and tucked in into the back of his pants, so that it could be easily grabbed with his left hand. Looking around, Nezelizer saw that the guards had been put down, and the rest of the youths were busy at work releasing each other and the girls. By then, Tenesh had reached the pen, and proceeded to enter, the rest of the guards funneling in and arranging themselves behind him, while the slaves became compressed on the opposite side of the none-too-large pen, the girls hidden behind the boys. Fear and courage alternated on the slaves' faces, as they nervously shuffled their feet and tightened their grips on the weapons they had acquired until their knuckles turned white.

"Don't worry guys," Nezzie called as Tobias, "We get through these last few guards and we're home free!"

The ten guards unfurled their neurowhips and Tenesh took half a step forward. He addressed the slaves, but his eyes were locked on Nezeliezer as he spoke.

"Your resistance is completely useless. You are only causing yourselves more harm. Besides these ten men behind me, there's another fifty ready to pacify you children. We won't kill you, you can be assured of that, but we will make your lives a living, torturous hell until you are delivered to your future masters. You had the element of surprise and jumped a few of my guards. Fine. Congratulations. You've earned yourself pain, and can only earn yourselves more."

The speech, delivered in harsh tones, seemed to have some semblence of effect, but the desperate youths had nowhere else to go. Their backs against the walls, this was the first hope they had since their abductions, and seeing their peers still standing steeled their resolves. Tenesh just shrugged, and motioned the guards to advance on the mass, while the rest of the camp looked on in morbid facination.

"This one's mine," Tenesh said nodding his head towards Nezzie, "Lock down the rest. I don't care what damage you do, just don't kill the vrelts."

Nezeliezer stood tall, staring Tenesh in the glowing purple amethysts that shone below his brows. "I'm going to kill you, Twi'lek. And I'm going to enjoy watching you die."

Tenesh chuckled darkly, "Think what you want, Guild-runt, but you I especially don't have to be lenient with. Your friend was already reduced to a convulsing wreck by my whip, and you'll be the same."

Nezzie looked up and grinned. "Boom," he said, as blaster fire broke out in the background. Tenesh looked surprised for a second, and then his eyes really popped open as he realized that the fire wasn't coming from small arms fire. Powerful anti-air laser emplacements lit up the day sky, as explosions rocked the camp. The guards who had just begun engaging the slaves stopped and looked up, and every eye in the camp turned towards the dark swarm decending on the camp. The sound of atmospheric drives rumbled the eardrums of anyone on the ground, and a mottled crew of starfighters and atmospheric craft started tearing up the camp.

Warlord Dyess' attack force had finally arrived.

As Tenesh looked back along with everyone else, Nezelizer made his move, and pulled the blaster from his back with his left hand as he launched himself towards the vicious Twi'lek. Tenesh, despite his apparent surprise, was faster, and his neuro whip wrapped itself around Nezzie's left hand in less than a second. Pain shot through Nezzie's left side and the blaster dropped to the ground, but he kept moving towards Tenesh at full speed. His right hand holding the whip, only Tenesh's left was free, but as Nezzie got close, that arm flew out with amazing quickness, grabbing Nezzie by the collar and flipping him over Tenesh's right shoulder, slamming him into the ground.

"Frelling fool!" Tenesh snarled, and as he let go of Nezelier, his left hand snapped to the side of his neck, where a burst of pain had appeared from nowhere. The burst of pain had come from a needle that Tenesh suddenly found sticking out of his neck. For the first time, true surprise marked the enforcer's features, and his eyes dropped down to Nezzie's grinning face as the boy struggled to stand. The boy's lips moved, and Tenesh recognized what he mouthed.

As starbursts exploded in his vision and the blood pulsed in his eyes, Tenesh could almost hear the words, "Burn in the Abyss..."

And then it was done, and the lifeless body of a vile and treacherous being dropped to its knees, and then fell over.

The rest of the guards in the pen were in complete disarray. Seeing their camp under assault by a Warlord's crew and their leader suddenly dead on the ground, seemingly at the hands of a sixteen year old boy, they looked around and realized it wasn't worth it. Quickly ditching the pen and running, the guards made their way for the ships at the far end of the camp, frantically hoping in some way to excape the onslaught of Warlord Dyess.

The slaves, now apparently free, cheered, but Nezzie didn't care as he searched for Nenya in the crowd and ran in, grabbing her by the hand.

"Let's go," he said, pulling her behind him and nervously eyeing the command tent. Deranz had been in there a long time, and he sincerely hoped that his friend hadn't gotten into any serious trouble.

*****

ooc:/AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!! Alright, fine, I had learned my lesson, and when making large posts saved what I had written after each section, but damn it, there were another several pages of good material after this that had existed thirty seconds ago, but no longer do... stupid touchpad and backspace key combination! Do I have the strength of will to retype what I just wrote..? I don't know, I'll give it a whirl, but man, I know it won't be the same, and I really liked the next part....
'And So it Goes'
Posts: 214
Joined: Sun Feb 16, 2003 1:07 pm

Post by Jack_Sigma »

ooc:/ One post broken up into two so I don't stop on 13 :P

IC:
He had to act!

Deranz' last thought was punctuated by an explosion inside his head, and for an instant he thought he had waited too long, and this was the end. An instant later, recognition flitted through the Deranz' scattered mind, and was echoed in Narju's reaction. The slaver boss had cocked his head back and to the side, listening for confirmation of what clearly sounded like his encampment's laser batteries firing against an airborne foe. Deranz didn't think any longer, and his right hand flew up, jamming the needle it held deep into Narju's adam's apple.

A trickle of blood made its way down Narju's neck as the slaver barked in surprise and sudden agony. His free left hand flying to his neck, Narju tore the needle out with a roar of fury, releasing a squirt of blood that splattered on his furs and Deranz' face. Surprise slackened his grip for just an instant, and for that instant Deranz managed to draw an eighth of a breath, enough to hold him in consciousnes for some more fragile seconds. But a moment later, the grip was back, stronger than before, more urgent. Anger and pain mixed on Narju's features, and the anger of the beast was enough to overcome the pain, as Narju's entire strength was devoted to the destruction of his foe. Fingers clenching with all their might, Deranz felt and almost heard something crack in his jaw, and something else pop, as Narju tried to grind his face into dust, squeezing it as if expecting it to explode just like an orange would.

At this point, all that was left to Deranz was to struggle with all his might. It hadn't worked... either the poison wasn't enough or Narju was too big, but it was extremely painfully clear to Deranz that the toxin hadn't succeeded against the Brute without the black knot. With his last strength, Deranz tried to beat at Narju's neck, but the enraged slaver used his free hand to pin Deranz' right arm to his side. Pressing Deranz into the pole behind him until the tent's support creaked, Narju slid the boy down the pole until he was on the ground, burying him into the dirt floor of the command tent with every ounce of his energy. At this point, the telltale signs of asfyxiation were making themselves clear to Deranz, as the roaring in his head had intensified to the power of an ocean, crashing wave after wave against some majestic cliffs. Color and pain consumed Deranz and the boy struggled furiously, but to no avail. Clearly it was the end.

And suddenly, the grip slackened. And then some more. And again. And just like that, Deranz drew ragged and pained breaths into his starving lungs, greedily gulping at air and coughing at the same time, trying to draw in too much and then expelling it all over again. Narju looked confused, and squeezed harder, beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead as he saw that his strength was fading, and no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't hold on. The slaver boss took a stumbling step back as shock clearly painted his features. Narju's right hand clutched at the bloodied mess of his neck, and a hint of terror crept into the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. After the initial effects, it hadn't taken Narju long to realize what was going on, him being a man who had many times exploited the power of toxins and deadly chemicals in his rise to the top.

Frustration gnawed at Narju as his felt himself grow hot, sweat now running freely down his face. The thoughts that had only instants before torn at a furious pace through Deranz' mind now consumed Narju. Years of terror and fear filled his eyes, enemies dead, innocents destroyed, and always fire, violence and pain following in the wake of the man whose reputation had garnered the name 'Savage.' It wasn't fair, it just wasn't! The injustice of it all pained Narju the most; he had been on his way up, there had been so much yet to do. The Kurzhii had been a means to and end, Narju had had greater aspirations, greater dreams! He was to be a Warlord in his own right, revered and feared throughout this sector of the galaxy, and one day... one day... but now that one day would never come, because the great Savage, Odin the Brute, had been brought to his end by a runt schooled in the use of a poison needle. To have had his downfall enacted by this sixteen year old vrelt of a fool, lying less than ten feet away aggravated Narju to no end. And on this dank digusting world, too, his body no doubt left to the jackals, instead of the grand burial he had forever envisaged for himself. Like the kings of old, after having died in glorious battle, a proper end for a man who considered himself descendant of royalty.

Narju stumbled back another step but his feet could no longer hold him, and the large man went down onto his backside in the dirt, legs splayed out in front of him, hunched over forward with his arms lying useless at his sides. So this was it, the end, the End. Narju wanted to scream, he wanted to fight, he wanted to survive, but none of those were an option. And worst of all, absolutely, horrendously worse than the pain now consuming his being, as his blood felt like it was trying to burn its way out of his body, was that his enemy would live. That kid would survive, and he wouldn't.

The injustice of it all...

And then the last light of consciousnes faded, and Narju was dead, hunched over in the same sitting position he had fallen to, on the ground in the middle of a tent he had called his 'throne room.' The Brute brought low by a child, an ignominious end for an ignominious man. If ever there was a sense of poetic justice in the Universe, some great being was right then having a hell of a laugh.

Less than ten feet away, Deranz was chugging air, his thoughts empty beyond trying to gasp another and another breath. The din was fading, and the colors leaving, only small starbursts remaining in his vision as it finally started to clear. But this precious rest was not to be, as pain suddenly flooded Deranz all over again, his reemerging consciousness telling him he had just gotten a boot to the stomach. Painfully, Deranz raised his head and his eyes met those of Grish, ever-forgotten Grish, who stood over him still bound, hate ever present but superiority now sharing its place on the boy's face.

"I wanted you to look at me as I killed you," the boy said, almost unable to keep the mirth from his voice, trying to play it cool like the heros in the holo's. And then Grish raised his boot, ready to crush Deranz' head down, as he had done so many countless times in his dreams.

Unfortunately for him, the same anger that had a minute ago fueled Narju's final straining need to explode Deranz' head now burst to life in the breast of the youth on the ground. Anger overcame pain, and an already heavily stressed adrenaline system delievered yet another blast of energy, as Deranz rolled out of the way of the oncoming boot, and grabbed hold of Grish's weight-bearing ankle, pulling it out from under him. The boy toppled backwards, and both boys tried to regain their feet. Grish's hands were still bound in front of him though, so Deranz', despite the terrible pain in his motions, stood faster. A quick reciprocated kick to the stomach and Grish's first attempt to rise was foiled. Deranz turned and walked to were a blaster lay on the ground, turning back to Grish, who had by then managed to struggle to his knees, and now stayed like that, the aura of hate entirely unaltered by his impending doom.

"Kill me," was the dark whisper that came from Grish, half challenge and half plea, as Deranz approached the boy, the barrel of his blaster staring Grish in the eye. And then he was in front of Grish, cold steel pressed against the boy's forehead.

And in that instant, Deranz felt pity for his defeated foe, who had never stood a chance in this world. In one smooth motion, Deranz flipped his blaster in his hand, and smashed Grish on the side of the head with the butt with all his strength. The youth crumpled like cheap paper, dropping to the ground like a dead-weight. Deranz turned away and headed for the exit to the tent, leaving the boy for whatever Warlord Dyess' men would do to him.

At the exit of the tent, Deranz stopped, Telfass Dire's lessons flooding back as reason made its reappearance on the stage of his mind. Deranz looked back at Grish and raised his blaster, depressing the trigger several times as Grish's unconcious body became his corpse, several smoking holes in its chest. There were too many enemies in the world for you to leave alive those that you knew you had. Deranz had learned from this experience the danger of leaving your enemies behind, and the pure chaos they could cause given the opportunity to appear at the most inopportune and inappropriate moment. Deranz wasn't stupid, he wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

Satisfied, Deranz left the tent and reemerged into the light, hoping as he did that Nezeliezer had completed his task and killed Tenesh as he had wanted to. The sight that greeted Deranz met completely with his approval. Coming towards him at a quick pace was Nezeliezer, covered in dirt and soot and possibly limping slightly, dragging Nenya behind him by the hand. Behind the two, a mass of freed children followed uncertainly, having had no idea what to do next, and using Nezeliezer's confidence as a sign of natural leadership and thereby following him.

All around the boys confusion reigned, as buyers and their guards ran to their ships, while Warlord Dyess' small attack force did its best to reduce the camp and everyone in it to rubble so that there would be no resistance when they finally landed.

In the midst of this battlefied, Deranz and Nezelizer met and clasped forearms, exchanging smiles as they did. There would be no ebulient emotions, this gesture was enough that each knew the other had been slightly worried, and each seemed to respond in kind by signifying that it had been time wasted.

"Where?" was all Deranz asked; there would be time for story-telling later, but they weren't done yet.

Nezeliezer pointed to a bodyguard helping his master hop to a ship on one leg, while the second of the pair held a blaster awkwardly in his left hand while his right hung uselessly at his side, covered in drying blood. Deranz nodded and then waved to the group of children,

"Follow us," he called, and the two boys took off at a run after the hobbled buyer and his guards. Nezeliezer raised an eyebrow as they ran, and Deranz shrugged, "You wanted to kill Tenesh, and I figured if the opportunity arose without hindering us that we'd take the rest with us."

Nezeliezer nodded, and then it was back to work. Sprinting as they were, the bodyguards didn't have time to react, even if they had noticed them. Deranz flew towards the left guard, with the damaged arm, and beat him in the back of the head his blaster at full speed, sending the bodyguard flying forward to the ground head over heels with a cracked skull. Nezeliezer was less physical, and instead halted his sprint right at the instant when he was behind the bodyguard holding the buyer up. Nezzie raised his blaster in one quick motion and placed it at the back of the bodyguard's head, just behind his left ear. The man didn't have time to scream or move before Nezzie pulled the trigger, sending his body and ruined head to the ground, as the buyer tripped and kept going forward on momentum. Trying to hold himself up by putting down the leg that Nezzie had set a blaster bolt into earlier, the buyer screamed and tumbled down, turning in fear to face the brutal boys who had assaulted him.

The two wasted no time. Deranz approached the buyer, Deranz' already at least six foot height and musculature even more imposing for a man on the ground. "You have a large ship. You want to get out of here alive. You're taking us with you. All of us." As Deranz said this his arm swept out to include all the kids standing in a mass behind him.

"Those two escort fighters are yours, they'll keep Dyess' troops off our backs, right?" Nezzie suggested, "It's your life as much as ours, we'll let you leave once you drop us at Vuun. You've lost two guards, it doesn't need to be any more than that."

Faced with this seemingly reasonable proposition, screaming fighters overhead, and two blaster barrels pointing at him like two dead eyes, the buyer didn't see any reason to argue. Nodding his assent, he just said, "Help me up and let's hurry, my escorts are already in the air trying to fight these bastards off before they blow up my ship. They're good but I don't know how much time they can buy. Dyess clearly didn't send his best, but reinforcements could easily be forthcoming."

Deranz just nodded, and instead of helping the buyer up, lifted him over his shoulder, "Sorry," he mumbled, and took off at as close to a sprint as he could manage with a full-grown man over his shoulder, Nezzie and Nenya next to him and the rest of the kids behind. They reached the ship in another several moments, and Deranz dropped the buyer to the ground on his good leg a few feet from the trigger-happy men guarding the on-ramp to the ship.

"Quickly, let them on, and let's go! Get to the guns," the buyer shouted, still conscious of the blaster barrel at the small of his back. The children piled on to the ship, ignoring several surprised and confused crew members. Deranz and Nezzie ordered them all to find a spot to sit on the floor and brace each other. The mass of kids filled up the ship, and the youths left just enough space for the crew to run past in case of emergency but filled the transport to over-capacity. It wasn't comfortable, but they fit, and it'd fly. Following the buyer to the cockpit, Deranz and Nezzie helped him in. In the cockpit, the crew's hands were already flying over the controls, as the ship shuddered and rose, anti-grav engines sending them off the ground, and away from the camp. A guard in the cockpit saw the two kids helping his boss and holding blasters to his back, and fumbled to bring his rifle to bear, but Deranz and Nezzie simultaneously dropped the buyer and fired at the guard's leg. Two blaster bolts hit the guard's right leg in the thigh, only centimeters apart and the guard screamed in pain and fell to the floor.

The two boys again shared a grin at having had the same exact thought at the same time, and Deranz was about to speak when the buyer did first, struggling to his one good leg. He grabbed the speaker on the ship, and spoke into it,

"Hear me White Tryman crew, the children are our guests for this escape flight to Vuun. Do not harm them in any way, and try not to let them get in your way. At Vuun we will discharge them and head on our way home, everyone alive, most of all me. I repeat, don't try to harm them, and this stupid situation will soon be over." Deranz smiled at the man and nodded his acquiescence, as the buyer took his cockpit chair and Deranz and Nezzie took two of the extra seats in the cockpit, blasters still in hand. Chatter came from the bandwith as the sky came up to meet the ship, and blaster fire peppered the area in front of the cockpit,

"This is Tryman 1, we have you covered on your way out White," came a voice over the radio.

"Tryman 2 here, better to hop into space than stay atmospheric and head around to Vuun that way, White, half these craft are atmospheric, and they're all focused on the little resistance left in the camp. A few are trying to engage us but the rest are staying clear."

"Tryman 1 here, White, you've picked up a trailer, we have him,"

The ship shook as blaster fire impacted the rear shields, but the clouds kept parting and the sky kept getting darker as the White Tryman catapaulted its way out of the planet's atmosphere. The ship's own cannons fired, and the shockwave of an explosion shook the ship.

"Tryamn 1 here, you're clear for space White, we'll mop up a few trailers still trying to tag us and follow. We'll meet you at atmospheric re-entry point, coordinates -2165, 7321,"

The buyer heaved a sigh of relief, and swung his chair around to face the boys, who for the first time in a few days let themselves feel like they may have actually done it.

"So who are you boys?" the man asked, clearly curious as to his 'captors' identities, "You're no ordinary slaves, I'll say that much," he turned to Nezzie, "I saw you fight Tenesh, and I saw him fall dead, even though I'm sure I didn't see what happened. Are you some kind of special agents? Are you even kids?"

"What's your name?" Deranz asked, in response. Taken aback, the buyer responded, "Sigfried Mercy."

"And who do you represent?" Nezeliezer asked, a smirk on his face. At this Sigfried grinned too, "Now that I can't tell you."

Deranz chuckled, "Well I'm Deranz, and this here is Nezeliezer, but that's about all we can tell you too."

Sigfried laughed good-naturedly, "Fine, I'm just happy to be out of there alive. I'll tell you, I'm never dealing with the Kurzhii again, and especially that punk Narju."

Deranz' expression suddenly got serious, "You wouldn't have a chance to deal with Narju again anyway, he's dead."

"Uh huh," Sigfried said, and turned his chair back around to the black starry wonder now filling the viewshield. For not the first time that day, Sigfried Mercy was suddenly glad to be alive.

****
Last edited by Jack_Sigma on Sat May 07, 2005 11:41 pm, edited 1 time in total.
'And So it Goes'
Posts: 214
Joined: Sun Feb 16, 2003 1:07 pm

Post by Jack_Sigma »

The ship landed at the starport at Vuun, and twenty-eight ecstaic children got off, overjoyed at being once more free rather than about to be sold into slavery. Half still had nowhere to go, and no one to turn to, but at least their lives were again their own rather than someone else's. They thanked Nezeliezer and Deranz profusely, and some of the older girls gave the boys suggestive smiles, but the two just shrugged it off, their prize, Nenya, standing quietly in a daze behind them.

At the off-ramp to the ship, Deranz and Nezzie turned and faced Sigfried, who had during the trip gotten his leg bandaged and walked with a crutch. The man bade them farewell, and said he hoped they wouldn't have a need to meet again,

"No offense boys, but I'd as sooner not meet you two again. You're interesting, but I value my life more than that," he said, and the three laughed,

"Don't worry," Nezzie said, if we really were to meet again, you'd never see it coming anyway. Sigfried chuckled nervously, and turned to leave, but Deranz called back after him,

"Listen, Sigfried," and Mercy turned back, "What?"

"Listen," Deranz said somewhat sheepishly, "When I was carrying you, I kinda stole your wallet," as he said this, Deranz pulled it out of his pocket, "but you've been such a good sport that I figured I'd return it. Here," Deranz tossed the wallet over, and Sigfried caught it, somewhat surprised. He didn't say anything, but just turned and walked back up the ramp, which closed behind him. A minute later, the ship was gone, off to heal Sigfried and return to its masters, its slave purchasing mission unaccomplished.

"Now why'd you go and do that?" Nezzie asked, turning to Deranz.

"Well," Deranz grinned, "First, I grabbed his money and an ID card that we could use to figure out who he really worked for. And second, I also stole a nice ring off his hand, so I figured I'd at least save him the trouble of having to go get his documentation back. The interstellar pilot's bureau is a hellhole, and he really wasn't that bad."

Nezzie laughed, a good hearty laugh, the boys' mission accomplished, and with some extra goodies to boot. He examined the ring Deranz pulled out, and it really was quite nice, a golden band with two black gems entwined as the eyes of a breig and a bol that were devouring each other. Taking Nenya along, the boys left the spaceport and headed into the city. A few minutes of walking later, they ducked into the doorway of one of the unmarked safehouses of the Vuun Thieves Guild. Entering the appartment that the boys used in Vuun, Nenya in tow, the rest of the saved children left behind, the boys were surprised and overjoyed to find Telfass waiting for them, a huge meal spread out on a table in the middle of the room. A sumptuous and expensive meal, full of mouth-watering delicacies that had the boys salivating just by looking at them, especially after the 'nutritious gruel' that had served as their only meal in the last two days.

As surprised as the boys were to see Telfass though, the presence of another man in the room surprised them more. That Telfass would bring another individual here meant that the man was well trusted, but that Telfass would bring him here on the day of the boys' return meant that he was somehow pertinent, either to this mission or the next. The man was older, as old as Telfass maybe, with distinguished gray streaking the raven black hair at his temples, and indisperesed through the rest of his hair. The man stood very straight, with the carriage of one who had served in the military or some other such organization in the past, and while he was not skinny, the weight he wore he wore gracefully. Wrinkles creased the man's face, and it almost seemed to the boys as if some great sorrow was hidden behind his bushy brows and dull brown eyes. The mystery was not to last long though, as Nenya trailed into the room after the boys.

Where they had thought they were surprised, Nenya looked absolutely startled,

"Uncle!" came the girl's amazed cry upon seeing Telfass, sending the boys' eyebrows to the top of their foreheads. A second later she saw the other man, and, happiness encompassing her complete being, the joyous cry of, "Father!!" rang out through the appartment. Nenya sprinted towards the man, whose worried creases disappeared instantaneously as if by some emotional iron, as he embraced his daughter, who fell to tears in his arms.

"Um... Telfass?" Deranz asked, watching the scene with some scepticism. It wasn't that he didn't believe that this man was Nenya's father, it was just that Telfass had never mentioned any living relatives, and the story of Nenya being some outlying farmer's or merchant's daughter fell through like a Hutt on a wooden chair.

"No need to be alarmed, boys," the master thief replied kindly, "Let me introduce you to my close friend, Marcus Daine. Marcus and I have known each other for many years, and he's helped me out many a time on various missions, as my inside source and companion. If I ever needed extra muscle for a job, Marcus' blaster was as precise and reliable as any I knew back when I was still working."

Marcus Daine unraveled his daughter's arms from his waist, but left one of his own hanging over her shoulders as he approached the boys, when he spoke, his voice was a bass rumble, as dignified as his carriage was,

"Boys, I owe you a greater debt than I could ever repay. Thank you for saving my daughter. It was bad enough that the Kurzhii massacred my brother and his wife, and my mother-in-law, but when I found out that Nenya was missing, and no body to be found, I went absolutely crazy. Telfass was the only person I could think to turn to who may have been able to find out where she was, and a way to rescue her. Seeing her standing here now..." Daine gravely shook the hand of each boy, pressing them warmly, "I didn't know what to think when he told me not to worry, and had me wait with him in this appartment with dinner all laid out waiting for your return. It seemed to me to be cocky, and almost unbearable to just sit here and expect everything to just work out, but as always, Telfass trust wasn't misplaced. Thank you boys, thank you for giving an old man his life back."

Telfass smiled, "Sorry for the deception boys, but I figured it'd be a better way to frame the exercise that having to explain all the emotion involved. There is no actual reward, as you may have guessed by now, but we'll figure something out as a way for me to reward you for helping me out like this."

Marcus Daine cut in, serious as ever, "No, Telfass, that's not true. Boys, you really have done an amazing thing for me, and to hear Telfass tell where you went to retrieve Nenya, it wasn't an easy feat. I'll reward you, and reward you well. Just name a price and I'll gladly meet it, for my daughter, anything is worth it," and as Daine said this, he hugged Nenya closer to him with the one arm around her, as if afraid to lose her again right there and now.

Nezeliezer just shrugged, and Deranz half-grinned, knowing what the other was thinking, "We don't want anything, Master Daine, nothing at all. It seems that Telfass and you owe each other enough debts to satisfy a lifetime, and Nezzie and I, well, we owe Telfass our entire existances to this point. We couldn't ask anything from you, and we're not about to."

Marcus just shrugged, and with that the group sat down to dinner. At first, silence reigned as the three youths shoveled anything and everything with reach into their mouths, enthusiastically making up for missed time. That done, conversation started, with the elders listening interestedly as Deranz and Nezzie related the tale of the rescue and escape. Each boy would constantly interrupt the other in the telling, but never to fix details, rather adding more. The tale was filled with a surprising amount of laughter for a gruesome story, with Deranz and Nezzie constantly egging the other on about supposed mistakes or slip-ups. The boys told the story without embellishment, and the only time their back and forth halted was while each listened carefully to what happened to the other while they were separated. Nezzie went first, and when Deranz finished his half, Nezzie let out a chuckle,

“Hah, I knew you were in trouble Deranz,” he gently chided his friend.

“You’re right,” Deranz replied, “But it was entirely my mistake. I kept accounting for everything except Grish, and it came back to nearly do me in.”

“Whatever happened to Grish?” Telfass asked, and Deranz calmed a bit as he related the end of Grish in full detail. From the boy’s assault on Deranz, to clubbing him over the head in a moment of pity, and finally to shooting him on the way out.

“You taught me well Telfass, and you were right. I couldn’t just leave an enemy behind me like that, to come back and bite me in ankle later on. I made that mistake one, and I’ll be vornt if I do it again,” Deranz replied soberly. Marcus Daine watched him as he spoke, and Nezzie too. He also noticed that Nenya was listening a little more intensely when Deranz spoke, to the point that she almost let out a gasp when he spoke of finally shooting Grish. Marcus recognized dangerous men, years ago he had been a space pirate, looting and pillaging his way across the galaxy. He had been married once before, too, before Nenya’s mother. She had been his pirate queen, and together they had blazed a path of violence and fire in search for gold and glory. He had met Telfass in those days, during one of his erstwhile adventures, and the two had become friends. He had never had a child with his first wife, and she died in his arms, her abdomen torn apart by blaster bolts in the middle of yet another firefight. Marcus Daine had been wounded in his life, from the every-day scratch to near fatal, but he had never felt anguish like that day, when the light finally faded in his beloved’s eyes. Yes, he knew dangerous men. He was one himself. Telfass Dire was possibly the most dangerous man he had ever met, and Marcus saw the signs of it in these boys. One day, these boys… Daine had met Nenya’s mother years later, after he had quit his piracy, and they had lived a quiet and decent life, raising a daughter they loved very much. He never wanted her to experience what he had felt that day. Never.

After dinner, with Nenya asleep in one of the appartment’s bedrooms and Deranz and Nezeliezer still at the dining table, laughing and planning for the future, Marcus sat opposite Telfass in the living room, conversing like the old friends they were. Periodically their attention would be drawn back to Deranz and Nezzie, who could be seen in the dining room, gesturing wildly and making jokes. Marcus looked down into his glass of Atruscian whiskey and swished it around the ice cubes slowly melting in it.

“So you’re teaching them everything you know, Telfass?” Daine asked wearily, looking to his friend.

“Yes, I am,” Telfass replied, taking a gulp of his own whiskey, “I’m not long for this world, Marcus. I never had children, at least any that I know of, and I needed to train a successor, to pass on my legacy. These boys, with what I teach them and their own intelligence, they could be the best, Marcus, or at least up there with anyone in the galaxy.”

“But,” Marcus asked, “Do you ever wonder if you’re doing the right thing in teaching them to kill and act without emotion? I mean, when Deranz was talking about killing that Grish boy, I could just see myself saying the same thing fifteen years ago. You’d do the same, and, frell, I can’t even say that I’d act any differently were I in that situation now. Is it right? I mean, they’re Nenya’s age. And I can’t ever imagine wanting this life for her.”

Telfass laughed darkly, “Well Marcus, we’re alive, you and I. We’ve lost many a close friend along the way, but we’ve made it out the fire and come out the other side. What I teach those boys can bring them comfort for the rest of their days, depending on how they use it. They can survive this galaxy, and they can protect those that they’ll come to care about. After all, they managed to bring Nenya out, and extracted some revenge for the loss of your brother-in-law and his wife, and your mother-in-law. Narju’s dead and that’s one less slaver in the world. I’m not saying they’ll use what they know for good rather than evil, but that’s their choice, and they’ll inevitably use their talents to help those they care for.”

Marcus sighed, “I guess you’re right Telfass, I can’t say anything about that, but still… are you sure that you’re not sending them on a path that’ll only lead to pain?

Telfass shrugged, “The only thing I can do, Marcus, is give them everything they could possibly need to never be helpless, and always be able to make their own choices. And as long as they have those they trust, I think they’ll be just fine. I wouldn’t have gotten far, despite my skills, without you and Taedril Sigma back in my days of youthful rashness. As long as they have each other, I’m confident they’ll succeed, and survive.”

Marcus nodded, and the two old men looked back in at the boys, now quietly talking over a cup of tea. “Yeah, as long as they have each other.”

“Hey,” Marcus said as he raised his glass, “To Taedril, and the other good friends we’ve lost along the way, may these two never have to suffer such loss.”

“To Valeryn,” Telfass replied, “And to Nenya, let the future not repeat the mistakes of the past.”

The two drank in silence, while the young thieves’ quiet laughter drifted towards them from a dining room that seemed generations away.

*****

One lonely evening after work, Beelbus Crayne strolled down one of Vuun’s many promenades, wondering what he’d do next. He wasn’t thinking about that evening, but instead about the future. His employers on Vuun had all of a sudden gone quiet, and word was floating around town of a huge firefight between Warlord Dyess’ troops and some base that had popped up in his territory. Word was that it might’ve even been a slaver camp, and it wasn’t hard for Beelbus to put two and two together about the rumored fight and his employers’ sudden silence. What’s worse, was that the Vuun Guild of Labor had nabbed Dr. Grevin just the day before. They had burst into his office, somehow knowing about the hidden trap door, and found him red-handed with several prepared syringes of knock-out serum. Because of this, Dr. Grevin was going to serve several years in the Vuun dungeons, which meant that he probably wasn’t going to emerge… ever.

Now, Beelbus had a decision to make. He had to decide whether to keep his desk job and hope he hadn’t been made along with Dr. Grevin, or he could try to move on. The corpulent man sighed, he had no idea what else he could do, and his extravagant spending meant that he hadn’t saved any of the extra money he had made serving the slavers. Instead, it had all gone to trying to impress women and all those fools who thought they were better than him. Now though, he had to find something else. He thought he had enough for a ticket off Rayje, but he wasn’t sure, and even if he did, where would he go? Maybe to another of the planets in the system? Beelbus didn’t know how far his money would take him, but he was fairly sure it was time to quit the planet. Grevin’s pick-up had been the last straw, and he knew as little chance as Grevin had to survive in prison here, he himself had even less. As Beelbus strolled, he looked at the shop windows on either side of the walk, picking out items that he used to be able to afford. Maybe he could find another job with slavers… find the Kurzhii on another planet. After all, he had been a great employee, and he had really liked his job. Maybe they could plant him somewhere else?

As Beelbus paused looking into one window, some laughing kid bumped into him from behind and ran past. Beelbus cursed at him, and then realized he thought he had felt a tug at his pocket. Reaching in, Beelbus cursed louder as he realized his pocket was empty, and his wallet was gone. Luckily, Beelbus could still the kid, who was pretending if nothing had happened and strolling away. Beelbus ran after him but didn’t say anything, wanting to catch the boy unawares. As he got close, the kid ducked down an alleyway, and Beelbus thought he heard him start running. Huffing and puffing, the fat man rounded the corner, and sprinted down the dark alleyway. He couldn’t quite see the kid, but still heard his footsteps up ahead, and a shape running.

“Hey… stop!” Beelbus yelled between gasps, and then all of a sudden something slammed into his chest. Toppling to the ground clutching his breast as the remaining air was knocked out of him, Beelbus felt another blow connect to his chin, and his world shook. He fell backwards, and lay there for a few seconds. Realizing no third blow was falling, Beelbus scrambled to his feet in the middle of the alleyway frantically looking around. He saw nothing, but suddenly another blow fell on the back of his head, sending him forward to the ground once more. A few kicks and Beelbus heard his ribs crack. Someone grabbed him from behind and pulled him up, while someone in front of him started landing blows. Blood flowed freely from Beelbus, and whoever was beating him was working him over quite thoroughly. Pain tore through his body again and again, and finally after what seemed like an eternity, he was dropped back to his knees. Finally, the bloodied and bruised Beelbus looked up, and his swollen eyes popped open at what he saw. Tobias and Hu, the boys he had sentenced to slavery not a week ago stood before him, blasters raised.

“H-how? But… you’re… you were sent to…” Beelbus blubbered.

Deranz and Nezeliezer just looked at him with cold, dead eyes. Two blasters raised to the level of Beelbus head simultaneously.

“You’re a sick human being,” Deranz said.

“You tried to get us enslaved, like plenty of innocent kids before us,” Nezeliezer intoned.

“Your bosses are dead,” Deranz spoke.

“Your doctor has been caught,” Nezeliezer added.

Two blasters, held dead level, stared at Beelbus.

“Justice is Served.” Nezeliezer pronounced.

“Death is Delivered.” Deranz proclaimed.

Two blasters spat death simultaneously, reducing what had once been a wretched human into a bloodied, headless pile on the ground. Deranz and Nezeliezer suddenly looked at each other and grinned.

“Hey, I liked that last bit, that was good,” Deranz smiled, “’Justice is Served, catchy.”

“I liked yours too,” Nezeliezer replied, “Death is Delivered, very solemn.”

Laughing and joking, the two boys strolled out of the alleyway, no more concerned about the corpse they left behind than they would have been about an insect that they had stepped on along their path. What the boys didn’t realize though was the tremendous impact those last two phrases would have on their futures. Justice is Served. Death is Delivered. Those simple words would shape the rest of their lives, in ways they couldn’t possibly imagine.

*****

ooc:/I make no apologies for editing/proofreading, b/c I don't do it :mrgreen:
'And So it Goes'
Posts: 214
Joined: Sun Feb 16, 2003 1:07 pm

Post by Jack_Sigma »

*****

3 years later.

In a spacious conference room deep inside the Fortress of Vuun, seven men sat around a triamium wooden table, modeled in a classical style whose only purpose was to show off the decadence of the owners. Triamium wood itself was extremely expensive, but also startlingly beautiful, with patterns of azure and gold speckled with black flecks dispersed in a mazelike configuration on the tabletop. The table legs, decorated with gargoyles and various fantastical monsters, could have been seen by many as over the top, but the men sitting in the room were the kind who had wealth to show off. And the power to back it up. The ceiling of the conference room was unnecessarily high, creating a massive open space that simply showed that the owners could afford to waste volume in a city so overpopulated that every square inch was accounted for and charged at more than full price. Plush chairs, covered with different animal furs and leathers served as the seats for the seven men, each seat tailored to the specific desires of the man who occupied it. The walls were surprisingly bare given the room’s showiness, but black orbs were suspended at the middle of the wall, about a few feet equidistant from each other going around the length of the oval conference room. While beautiful in their dark simplicity, the orbs were functional as well, and were actually jammers, meant to make sure that what was said in that room remained that way. The room was illuminated by decorative glowlamps set up in between each black orb. Anyone on the planet, upon wandering into this room, would have been shocked by the amount of riches accumulated into one spot on a planet where the local population held none of them.

On the other hand, no one in their right minds in the city of Vuun would have said anything about it to the seven men sitting around the table, nor questioned their justification or right in doing so. Sitting in the cavernous room were the seven most powerful men in Vuun. Sitting in those absurd seats were the members of the High Council of Vuun, known locally and colloquially as the Grand Council of the Black Market, or the Black Market Hegemony. Of course, these were still the phrases that the council itself propagated. Really, the council was affectionately referred to as devil-spawn and children of the Abyss, or just the Black Market Council. The men occupying the room were as varied as could be, both by dress and appearance. Surprisingly or not, all were human, although this could have been as much coincidence as anything else. There had been several Twi’lek and Farizh members of the council in years past, but the most recent members to rise, or rather claw their way to the top were all human. The most marked difference in the members was age, as that made the most distinct split. Three of the members were older, clearly of the old guard. These were Huin Detrin, the Lord Tory Goeve, and Erasten Wiim. All three men had come to occupy these seats through difference means, Huin had once been a pirate before entering the entrepreneurial black market business, the Lord Goeve was actually an exile from the core, once a member of the Republic, supposedly of rank, and Erasten had been a street thug who had always diversified his earnings into various business accounts and had developed the intelligence and acumen necessary to climb as high as his motivation and means would allow. These three men, all in their late fifties and older, had served on the Black Market council for decades. Of them, the Lord Goeve was the youngest tenured, having operated in his post for only 16 years. These men were too smart to be assassinated by the underlings, and too devious not to blackmail anyone with an even slight chance to replace them. Alongside their experience though, was a strong sense of being set in their ways; these men knew how things were, they knew how things had been, and they knew how things should stay.

The other four men were decidedly younger. Tyco Domenix, Wren Del, Voellir Coaff, and the man simply known as Uem were the ruthless and deadly younger members of the Market Council, who had either assassinated or power-played their predecessors out of their seats. Wren was the oldest of these at forty-three, and Tyco was the baby of the group, a thirty year old prodigy who had already served on the council for three years. These men were brutal, and had none of the sense of gentlemanly conduct that the old guard had been bred with. They were all of the same stock: they had been assassins, thieves, slavers, and coldblooded killers. These were the kind of men who believed in their own power, and would stop at nothing to multiply it. There was no civility, and there were no lengths to which they wouldn’t stoop to advance their chances of success and fortune.

These differing ideals created two split camps in the Black Council, between the old and the new, the stable and the chaotic. Unfortunately for the old guard, Tyco Domenix had gained influence over the younger segment, and as much as the Council argued, they worked by majority rules. The oldest members of the young guard were sometimes able to be swayed by the older generation, but Tyco’s dominance and radical nature had slowly converted the youngsters into thinking that his way was the way of the future. The arguments were long and bitter, but often, Tyco even managed to convince the older men. After years, sometimes they were just tired of arguing.

On that particular day, another argument was raging strong in the Council chambers, unrecorded by anyone, privy to only the men in the room.

“The Thieves Guild is getting ahead of itself, surely even you have to see that!” Tyco shouted in frustration, throwing his hand up as he did so. The man he was talking to was Huin Detrin, the leader of the triumvirate of the old guard, and the most stoutly conservative of the group. He had long believed in maintaining the stable and symbiotic relationship the Thieves had with the Black Market. There had always been an agreement. The Thieves didn’t damage business, and the Guild didn’t try overly much to seek out and kill their members in the streets. If one violated city law they would be pursued, but most Guild members were too smart for that, and the Guild wouldn’t offer protection to those that weren’t. The Guild helped attract tourism of a darker sort, to see the home of this vaunted group, and oftentimes these individuals would happily browse some of the items and deals the city of Vuun had to offer, courtesy of their venerable leaders and businessmen.

“Fine,” Huin rumbled, clearly sounding as if rehashing a point for the umpteenth time, “I agree with that. The recent attack on the Terrizine convoy was a step too far, but what you’re proposing not only won’t work, it’ll leave us weaker than it should. It is not in our best interest to start a war with the Guild right now. After all, a war will only lead to more instability, and drive away more business.”

“Listen, Huin,” Uem spoke, his words careful and measured, as they always were, “Maybe you are overanalyzing. The move Tyco suggests should not be enough to draw the animosity of the Guild into outright war. It may not be worth it for us to engage them in war, but it is equally not worth it for them. They need to protect their business interests too, and for that it is important that people keep coming to this planet. Tyco’s plan is not enough of an overstep for the Guild to respond.”

“I don’t know,” Lord Goeve spoke, thumbing his pointed beard, as was his habit while speaking, “You know that they protect their own people. And you know that he used to be very deep in the Guild. Probably one of the heads, if not the man. You don’t think acting now wouldn’t raise sentiment against us? Sentiment that could easily turn into action?”

“No.” Voellir responded, “Not at all. He’s not worth it. He’s just not worth the effort anymore. Telfass Dire may have once been the head of the Vuun Thieves Guild, but now he’s been retired for almost a decade. We know he used to advise the Guild higher-ups in his first few years after retirement, but rumor is that now he doesn’t even do that anymore. Ever since a few years after he started training those supposed wonder-kids of his, he’s removed himself from all but basic Guild activities. Any move we take against him will no longer be reciprocated by the Guild.”

“Yes,” Tyco continued, patiently repeating himself once more, “Telfass Dire is no longer worth it for the Guild, but the fact remains that we need to send them a message, preferably a strong one, that we won’t tolerate their infringement of our law, and their flouting our right or rule in this City. We are still in charge here, and the Guild needs to know that. We need to make a move, a very public and visible move. Telfass Dire, for all his disinvolvement in the Guild, is still one the worst kept secrets of Vuun. Everyone knows that he’s a frelling legend around these parts, and the Abyss knows how many surrounding solar systems. And everyone knows that he has been rewarded for his years of lawlessness with a beautiful mansion in the middle of Vuun, and a virtual free pass to live out the rest of his years in comfort and health. As for his house itself, you know it’s protected well enough to be the fortress of Vuun. But gentlemen, we are still the law here. We arrest Telfass Dire, and put him on trial. It doesn’t matter if we have the evidence or not, we’ll concoct some. Let everyone see that we’re going to prosecute one of the legends of the Thieves Guild, and send the Guild a message. If he runs at all during the process, we can kill him, and they can’t say a thing. They have to watch, helpless, while this whole stupid process plays itself out. Remember, we’re not trying to start a war, we’re trying to send a message. This is that message: stop sithin’ around. They’ll understand what we’re getting at, and at the end of the process, after we’ve convicted him with or without actual proof, Telfass will escape from our dungeons and run off-planet, and set up with his wealth there. All in all…” Tyco smiled, “message sent.”

The men around the table caught themselves nodding in agreement, and even Huin had to acknowledge that this was a fairly well thought-out plan. Show-trials were very good for making points, and all this would do was basically kick Telfass Dire off the planet, and considering his very presence was flaunting the Guild’s power in the face of the Black Council, it all made sense. Huin Detrin was old. It is doubtful whether or not that affected his judgment, or at least whether it affected his ability to see past Tyco’s obvious plan. Maybe had he been twenty years younger, or even ten, and just a little less trusting of the men on his Council, he could have forestalled what was to come. Instead, such a reasonable idea didn’t seem to have any flaws. Huin looked around the table and saw acknowledgement in all eyes. They were willing to give it a try. Huin sighed,

“Alright. I see that everyone agrees, and so do I. Implement this plan, Tyco, you’re in charge of it, obviously. But,” and here Huin’s voice took on a darker lilt, almost as if sensing Tyco’s true intentions, “be careful to follow it as you’ve said. Don’t overstep yourself; war is the last thing we want.”

Looking around one last time, Huin spoke again, “I guess it’s settled. Tomorrow Vuun security forces will arrest Telfass Dire at his home for murder, theft, and sabotage. Let’s do this right gentlemen, and let’s make it good.”

Tyco’s eyes nearly glowed with eagerness, and Huin couldn’t help but notice it. Still, little did he know what chaos his acquiescence would lead to.
'And So it Goes'
Posts: 214
Joined: Sun Feb 16, 2003 1:07 pm

Post by Jack_Sigma »

*****

Three years is a long time in the life of a youth, with each year bringing more and different experience. Oftentimes, adults get mired in the same rhythms and patterns, day in and day out, and with that, the spectacular and unique nature of each and every day gets left at the wayside. Not so for youths, because when a youth grows, every day brings a new discovery of body, mind, and the outside world. The difference between forty-two and forty-five is fairly insignificant, that between sixteen and nineteen often seems like a universe apart.

It was at this point that the youths Deranz and Nezeliezer now found themselves, nineteen and a future that had never looked brighter. In many ways the boys were a very mature nineteen; they had stolen, they had killed, they had known hunger and lack, and they had known sorrow and great physical pain. They had been trained to be emotionless under pressure, to always look for the angles of opportunity in any new building, town, or social encounter. They were, by nineteen, experienced thieves, and the mentorship for Telfass Dire had advanced them beyond what many in the Vuun Guild would’ve thought possible by their young age.

On the other hand, in some ways the boys were just that, boys, and the life they lived devolved their social and emotional maturity in many ways. Having grown up in the streets, having lived their entire lives under the strict and direct tutelage of thieves and assassins, the boys had never known ease. But, once the day of their initial test of apprenticeship to Telfass was completed, they entered into a whole new world. The tests were still hard, the missions near-impossible. Death and destruction followed the boys on every professional day of their lives, but for the first time ever in their young lives there was something else. For the first time, the boys had time to relax, they had time for leisure activities. The Guild had taken care of their needs through their initial training, but now they received payment for the jobs they took, and while the Guild still took a larger cut because they weren’t yet full thieves, with their talents, the boys brought in a fair amount. Suddenly, the city of Vuun, so full of dark alleys and hungry, despondent eyes in their childhood, turned into a paradise of fancy restaurants, large clubs, and exceptional treatment for anyone willing to dish out the credits. When the boys turned eighteen, they had saved some money and finally had their coming out party on Vuun. Arriving from some local off-planet job, the boys bought themselves tickets on a luxury shuttle, acquired some pristine and fancy suits, and stepped out into the spaceport of Vuun as if reborn. As far as the rest of the city was concerned, these were two boys, whose rich merchant uncle had just died, bequeathing on them a large fortune. As prodigal children tend to act, the two bolted to Vuun first-thing to spend their unearned wealth. They used the names Deranz and Nezeliezer freely, because no one who knew their true identities would ever reveal to the city that these boys were, in fact, Telfass Dire’s menacing apprentices. Deranz and Nezzie took a large apartment out in the middle of Vuun, and from there, were seen in the city’s richest venues and priciest entertainment locales. Vuun, while dark and menacing, made sure to cater to any rich clients who stayed over while making purchases a plentiful and fulfilling night-life, and rich merchant and farmer’s daughters and their bodyguards would often be seen making the rounds. The poorer girls dreamed of making such impressions, and when acquiring the slightest bit of money would often waste it all one such night of merriment.

These two boys were a common sight, and while people snickered behind their backs at their wasteful ways, making snide comments about how those that didn’t work would soon find themselves back in the gutter, their money was graciously accepted everywhere. More so, the boys’ fabulous living continued at home. While they were never actually seen entering Telfass Dire’s mansion, the boys constantly frequented it by secret entrances and via disguises, unrecognizable to the public eye. For the first time, the boys had a family, albeit a small one. After their daring rescue of Nenya, the boys saw a fair bit of her, running various tasks onto Vuun for her father, who in his later years preferred to stay home with his wife. Whenever she visited, she would stay either with Telfass or the boys, and often would accompany them out to wherever they were headed on a particular night. As evidenced from the first, the girl was especially sympathetic to Deranz, but the large boy, ever growing, was nothing but nice to her. Deranz had a fairly good read of people, and Marcus Daine still made constant appearances on Vuun during the course of those three years. Deranz could see that any relationship he would start with Nenya would be frowned upon by the older man, and had enough respect for him and Telfass not to strain their relationship in any way. So, as time passed, Nenya became another good friend, a little sister of sorts to Deranz and Nezeliezer.

Plus, there were always plenty of girls and older women on Vuun enticed by well-dressed, fit boys who flashed plenty of cash. Indeed, this was always a point of gentle chiding between Deranz and Nezzie, because while the giant Deranz had developed a demeanor that endeared him to most people the boys met, Nezzie never lost his harsh stare and hungry eyes wherever they were. Nezzie was always intense, and was constantly goaded by Deranz for his inability to tone it done when they spoke to girls or, as a matter of fact, to anyone. On the other hand, Nezzie always mocked Deranz inability to be serious about anything, and his open emotions when the two weren’t on a job. On the job of course, this was all irrelevant. Both knew what they were doing, and how to go about it.

Three years passed, with much joy and pleasure, many laughs and friendly faces. The happiness the boys had spent their entire childhood suppressing bubbled out. For a while, it seemed like it would never end, and the good times would continue forever. Unfortunately for the boys, forever is only for the Force, and not meant for mere mortal reality. Everything was bound to change at some point, and the boys idyllic existence could only last so long. It was appropriate though; Death is impartial, so it would make sense for it to have known both joy and sorrow.

*****

Deranz awoke to the sliver of sunlight that managed to make its ways through the twisted buildings of Vuun and through his bedroom window alighting directly on his left eye. As his eyelid glowed and shimmered, Deranz wanted to curse himself for having again fallen asleep on the side of the bed where such an occurrence was possible, but he did not yet have the energy. Instead, the giant shifted himself back onto his right side, and his vision was once more encased in darkness. An idle thought drifted through his mind, trying to find purchase but failing. Wasn’t it funny how half the time you sought the light and fled darkness, and the other half you needed the pitch black as much as anything? Had the thought caught on, Deranz could’ve followed it with another irony; that of him and Nezzie using the comforting dark to practice their work, and therefore relying on it much more than the average individual. At the moment though, none of this mattered, and Deranz gently descended back towards the mystical world of dreams.

“Deranz…” a voice called out from the dream-world… a woman? Was it his mother, calling to him from beyond the grave? Nenya, enticing him with pleasures he would never allow himself?

Deranz…” the voice called again, now definitely male, straddling the border between dream and reality. It was still hard to place but… for an instant, from that ambiguous borderline, between light and dark, two glowing red eyes pierced Deranz’ soul. He remembered them; he knew them intimately, for they had been a periodic visitor of his dreams… or was it his reality? Deranz wasn’t sure, but he knew those glowing eyes like he knew himself, intimately, almost as if… He didn’t know what the next thought was going to be, but as always, a chill sank deep into his bones at that thought that he could never quite complete.

Deranz!” this time the voice was definitely from reality, and Deranz’ eyes popped open as Nezzie stood in the doorway, leaning against it. “I know you’re awake, I saw you roll away from the sunbeam.”

“Maybe I wanted to keep sleeping,” Deranz mumbled, stretching his muscle-bound arms across the length of his massive bed, “maybe a few more dreams wouldn’t have hurt.”

Nezzie just laughed, “Couldn’t have hurt, yeah, but dreams don’t do you any good either. Plus, never know when you’ll have a nightmare, so get your lazy rear out of bed. I ordered breakfast already, it should be here in a few minutes.”

Deranz just sighed, but remembering some lingering sensation of ice-water running down the back of his neck he heaved himself up into a sitting position. He wasn’t sure what the sensation was from, but he felt like he could agree with Nezzie: dreams weren’t always pleasant.

“What’re we eating today?” Deranz asked as he dropped his feet over the side of his bed and tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

“Maltian fish-spread and some fresh baked bread, and a fruit basket,” Nezzie replied, already heading into the living room of the boys’ fairly large apartment. The place had a central living room, with both Deranz and Nezzie’s rooms two doors on its right wall. The boys had the corner apartment so both rooms had spacious windows and plenty of light, as did the living room. A small dining room branched off on the left side of the room, and the kitchen was through the dining room and past it. The boys’ rooms shared a bathroom, and there was another on the left side of the living room for guests. In Vuun, where space was at a premium, an apartment such as this cost a pretty penny.

“Hey, sounds pretty good,” Deranz replied, eyes brightening slightly as the haze of sleep started wearing off, and the thought of Maltian fish, one of Deranz’ favorites, sent his taste-buds running, “But how much did breakfast run us?”

“You’re joking, right?” Nezzie cackled from the living room, “An insignificant proportion of the money from yesterday’s job.”

Deranz grinned and nodded to himself; he had been joking, and the amount of money the boys spent was a constant running joke between the two. The truth remained that they were thieves, and damn good ones, and managed to save a fair amount regardless of their living expenses. As for the rich breakfast, it wasn’t an every-day habit. The Guild had taught the boys to cook, and more often than not their kitchen was stocked well, and the boys made their own breakfasts. On coming back from off-planet jobs though, it had become a tradition to wake up to a sumptuous breakfast that they had done no work to prepare. After all, mornings like this, they’d earned it.

The job that had come to a successful conclusion the night before had been on Relasse, another planet in the Aerit system, which was one of the industrial centers of the quadrant. Producing everything from speeders to heavy machinery, the planet served any remaining mining facilities, as well as various wealthy businessmen and individuals. The goods you could purchase on Relasse were probably backwards and overpriced as compared to what one could find near the core, but for the Aerit system, it was top of the line. The boys had been hired through the Guild to steal the plans of one of Relasse’s top personal transport producers for their new top-of-the-line speeder, supposed to drive the opposition out of business. A few minor glitches in the plan and one dead security guard later, the boys had walked out of the building with a good understanding of why Dei-Core’s competitors had been so eager to get their hands on this technology. The new transport used an innovative variant of the anti-grav drive that would allow it to support twice the weight capacity for a third of the cost to manufacture. The boys couldn’t know that Dei-Core had in turn stolen these plans from a SoroSuub personal transport center, nor that ‘stolen’ was a loose word because this tech was standard in the Core. In any case, they had gotten paid handsomely for it, and could even pride themselves on maintaining competition in a large industry and saving thousands of workers jobs. This of course didn’t interest the boys, but had they thought about it, it would’ve been an added bonus.

Deranz cleaned himself and showered, finally emerging from the boys’ joint bathroom in a plush robe, which had had to be specially crafted for his bulk. He saw that the food had already come, and that Nezzie had laid the bags out on the living room caf table in front of the holo-vid player, which happened to be the boys’ favorite place to enjoy their meals. The dining room was a formality, only used for guests or the rare occasion when Telfass would drop by their apartment. Having gotten in late the night before, the boys’ hadn’t yet reported to Telfass, but would drop in on the old man before they made plans for the night. Seeing the food set Deranz’ mouth watering anew, and he took a seat and dove in, savoring the Maltian fish.

“What’s on the holo-vid?” Deranz asked, mouth full of food. Nezzie just shrugged, “Nothing interesting, I’m sure… there’s never anything on in the morning.”

“News?” Deranz asked with a raised eyebrow, “We haven’t been here in a few days, maybe something interesting happened.”

Nezzie shrugged again and tossed Deranz the control to the holo-player, “Go for it, maybe there’ll be another special on us as the new additions to Vuun’s ‘hip’ scene.”

Deranz laughed as he remembered the Entertainment Report that had mentioned the two youths as hot new arrivals to Vuun’s extravagant upscale party scene, complete with grainy holo-images of the two having drinks at a club called ‘Togo.’ Grin still on his face, Deranz flipped the holo-player on, and turned through several annoying morning talk shows until he found the news channel.

His grin was gone in less than a second.

Half-chewed food still in his mouth, and entirely forgot, Nezzie and Deranz stared in amazement at the headlines scrolling across the bottom of the screen, and the images before them. On a holo-player of the size that Nezzie and Deranz had purchased, Telfass Dire loomed large at the back of their living room, hair entirely gray, and looking dignified as always with his hands bound behind his back, being escorted to a Security Forces vehicle that was waiting in front of his home. At least ten Vuun Guards surrounded the man, along with a throng of reporters and holo-cams. A single headline scrolled repeatedly along the bottom of the screen,

Infamous Criminal Telfass Dire Arrested by the Vuun High Council for Murder, Sabotage, Theft, and Terrorist acts.

This lasted a few more moments as the newscaster came back on, and began to speak,

“Folks, if you’re just joining us, that was footage of the infamous criminal Telfass Dire being escorted by Vuun security forces into a security vehicle, for transport to the holding cells at the Grand Courthouse. Dire, a well known figure around the city of Vuun, has long been suspected to be a member of the shady organization known as the Vuun Thieves Guild. Authorities have never had evidence to attest to this, but in light of new information that has been gathered, they claim to have enough to put Dire away for several consecutive life sentences, though they say they do not have enough to pursue the death penalty. Again, if you’re just joining us, the infamous Telfass Dire arrested early this morning for a multitude of serious criminal acts. More on this story in a minute, but now, the weather.”

A man came on and spoke about the air and sky conditions for that day, but Deranz and Nezeliezer were no longer listening. Stunned, the boys turned to each other and just stared, eyes locked, two brains trying to regain a grip on reality. An instant later, focus snapped back into two sets of eyes, and both boys sprang up at the same time. Deranz rushed into his room and threw off his robe, running up to his closet and reaching deep into it. A depressed latch, and the back of the closet opened up, revealing another small closet. Reaching in, Deranz pulled out seemingly normal black pants with a few cargo pockets, and zip-up brown jacket with only a few normally placed visible pockets. Both articles of clothing seemed dressy enough, and a thick, wool gentlemen’s black knee-length coat went over it. In the adjacent room, Nezeliezer could be heard doing the same thing. Less then a minute later, the two young men emerged back into the living room, both well-dressed and very respectable-looking. The boys exuded money and wealth, and were ready to carry themselves as such. Walking briskly, the left the apartment and headed downstairs.

“Any plan?” Deranz asked Nezzie as the two made their way down from the sixth floor where they lived.

“Not yet,” Nezzie replied, voice strained and mind focused elsewhere, “you?”

“I don’t know,” Deranz replied. By now, the boys had rushed down the stairs and were on the street, flagging down a transport taxi, “First thing’s first, let’s go see him. Let’s see what he has to say, we don’t want to ruin any of his plans, and we don’t know anything about the situation yet.”

“Getting in to see him will be hard enough,” Nezzie said, not really meaning it. His mind was still on the situation, but with a complete lack of information there was little they could do. “Fine, let’s see him first. Then we’ll talk about getting him out.”

Deranz’ head was already establishing how they would get in to see Telfass, and not much else. First things first.

“Yes,” Deranz replied, voice again cold and emotionless, “Then we’ll talk about getting him out.”

*****
'And So it Goes'
Posts: 214
Joined: Sun Feb 16, 2003 1:07 pm

Post by Jack_Sigma »

*****

The Grand Central Courthouse of Vuun was somewhat surprisingly not nearly as grand as it sounded. In fact, while it was indeed a large building, the architecture left something to be desired. It was a large rectangular building with ten stories, colored a drab brown, with evenly spaced windows marking each floor. The only thing that could be seen as spectacular or grand about it was that it was slightly removed from the city street, with a wide set of stairs leading up to the main entrance, which were two large steel doors that took up the height of an entire floor, and were each several shoulder widths across. At the top of the stairs was a wide platform that led into the building, and on it, front and center, stood a metallic statue of the ‘great and wise’ Rayje himself, or at least the statue revealed this truth to any visitor who cared to read its inscription. In reality, the Grand Central Courthouse was the site of the original ‘Fortress of Vuun,’ when the city was nothing more than a fortified outpost from where Tavin Rayje waged war on the rest of the solar system. It was also the site of the turning point from Vuun being home to Rayje the Warlord, and Rayje the Warlord Businessman and City-builder. The old Fortress of Vuun had been a base of military operations, and one of Rayje’s competitors had launched a nearly successful offensive against the military camp. The offensive had destroyed much of the Fortress, leaving only one wing still intact, and that barely. As a result, Rayje rebuilt the Fortress bigger and better on the site where it currently stood, and was able to put more money into it because decided to fortify defensively rather than continue attempting offensive strikes and stretching his men and resources thin. The men became the first ever guards of the new city, and once Rayje had built the Fortress, he announced Vuun as safe locale for any and all business, which would be done under his protection. As for the remnants of the old Fortress, Rayje had the ruined part demolished, while the remaining wing was renovated and rebuilt. After a short stint as a jail, Rayje changed its purpose to a courthouse, and ordered magnificent stairs built up to it, and a statue of himself placed on the stairs. The lower levels still served as temporary holding cells for those waiting to be tried, but the building had made a poor jail from the start, and with businesses coming in, Rayje needed courts to keep law. And so the Grand Central Courthouse of Vuun was built. And centuries later, both it and the statue of Rayje still stood. If anything could be said of the Warlord, it was true that he built things to last.

Deranz and Nezeliezer pulled up to this courthouse and exited their taxi to a scene of confusion and tumult. A few media crews spotted the mass of people that swarmed the courthouse steps, trying to catch a glimpse of Telfass Dire. The poor and the unkempt were there, as well as various mercenaries and bounty hunters, visible by the swirls and eddies in the crowd as people made room for those who looked especially dangerous. Various members of the upper classes were there as well, waiting by their limousines and surrounded by guards. The media report had caused an uproar, but not a political uproar, just a curious one. Everyone had heard of Telfass Dire, whether they knew it or not, but a single report snowballed into full network coverage, which snowballed into everyone wanting to catch a glimpse of the great Telfass Dire, finally brought to the law. It also did not escape Deranz’ and Nezeliezer’s attention that several members of the Vuun Guild spotted the crowd. These were just passing glimmers though, as the Thieves wove in and out of the crowd, not given room like the other trained killers, but instead fitting into the flow to the point of becoming invisible in it. As the boys soon learned, Telfass had already been taken inside, and the crowd was waiting for a speech from one of the Black Market Council leaders to brief them on the situation. The boys started worming their way to the front of the crowd and with the help of some healthy pushes and shoves from the nearly seven-foot Deranz they managed to get within two rows of people of the Security Forces’ barricade. A short while later, two heavily armed killers approached the podium that had been set up in front of Rayje’s statue and looked around. These were the elite guards of the High Council, paid handsomely for complete devotion and exception skill. One of them approached the front of the podium and depressed a control, and a shimmering light-blue shield appeared in front of the podium. Clearly, they were taking no chances in this situation. Another second later, a young to middle-aged man stepped forward. He was lean but carried himself with a deadly grace, and his fiery red hair had not yet begun to lose its sheen. Glinting green eyes stared at the crowd from below bushy red eyebrows, two green lakes next to red forests. The man was in full dress apparel for the Vuun High Council: a black, gold, and red cloak over a military uniform, supposedly fashioned after the one Tavin Rayje had employed for his military. The Black Market Council didn’t care two creds for Tavin Rayje, but they knew the importance of ceremony in manipulating common people, and so stood upon it whenever necessary.

“Good morning, citizens of Vuun,” the man began, pausing to wait for the loud din to die down before continuing, “For those that do not know me, I am Councilman Del of the Vuun High Council, and I stand before you today on a special day. I am proud to announce that the Council has finally gathered enough evidence to prosecute the sick criminal Telfass Dire to the fullest extend of our venerable Vuun laws. For years, this shifty criminal has escaped detection, leaving no trace, no sign of passage, and no visible trail by which to track his activities. Recently, he even became so bold as to take up residence in our great city as if he were as entitled to freedom as any one of you. For decades, the man has flaunted his ability to take your money, steal your goods, and kill your friends and loved ones. For years, he has made his living off of robbing the good people of this city blind, and he was so arrogant about it, that everyone in this city knew what he did, and yet no one could prove a thing. The Vuun High Council has long worked diligently and rigorously to find a way, any way, to bring this great Criminal to justice. Well ladies and gentlemen, you may rejoice to know that day has finally come. We now have conclusive evidence that links Telfass Dire to the murder of esteemed politician Geremiah Domenix in his home, not nine years past. Geremiah had himself acquired information with which to prosecute this man for his allegiance to the Vuun Thieves Guild and strings of thefts and robberies. Geremiah was so worried of deception and so intent on presenting the High Council with his information that he only kept one copy, a hard-copy, that he kept on him at all times. Well, ladies and gentlemen, Geremiah, whose only fault was to believe in justice, was murdered in his home, along with his entire family and contingent of guards, and his documents found missing. Now, I cannot relate to you the nature of the evidence we have acquired because of rights of legal secrecy, but I assure it conclusively points out Telfass Dire in this murder, and several others, as well as a whole string of other illegal activities. Rejoice, citizens of Vuun, this is a magnificent day. Today, we finally see JUSTICE done!”

Thunderous applause followed the councilman’s speech as an enraptured audience were drawn into his melodious voice and intense gaze. The councilman made his bows and stepped away from the platform, turning to go, his guards following on his heels like some domesticated attack dogs. Deranz and Nezeliezer could only stand there, shocked, as they heard the supposed allegations against Telfass. There was clearly something wrong, and if they had been worried earlier that day that some evidence against Telfass had actually been found, they were now even more worried as to what the Council could possibly be thinking, arresting Dire for a crime he couldn’t possibly have committed. Deranz remembered Geremiah Domenix, although he had not known his name until a few moments before. He also remembered shooting Geremiah Domenix. It would’ve been impossible to forget: a first kill stays in the memory forever. There was something very strange going on, with Telfass being accused of a crime that Deranz and Nezeliezer had actually committed, albeit at Telfass’ request. The strangest part was that if the Council had had any evidence that pointed to Telfass, the would’ve made the boys first, and clearly they hadn’t.

The crowd had started slowly dispersing, but many stayed, hoping to hear more or possibly somehow catch another glimpse of Telfass, as impossible as that now was. For the moment, Deranz and Nezzie just had to wait for the crowd to drift along its separate ways. Then they could go see Telfass, and hopefully figure out just what this glorified farce was all about.

*****

ooc:/ don't usually post this small but I'm pretty beat, more forthcoming eventually but I gotta get up real early tomorrow... :(
'And So it Goes'
Posts: 214
Joined: Sun Feb 16, 2003 1:07 pm

Post by Jack_Sigma »

*****

It took several hours of waiting before the crowd had entirely disappeared, and it was early afternoon by the time that a mentally weary Deranz and Nezeliezer made their way up the courthouse stairs. Both stood tall and proud, played every bit of their part as the wealthy young brats that served as their cover to the public. Inside though, they couldn’t have been more drained. It wasn’t the drained of activity though, but quite the opposite. Having had to stand there and wait for hours, the boys had had nothing to think about but the current situation, and after the first half hour, no new thoughts could possibly come to mind given their lack of any intel. As a result, the same drab thoughts ran circles through their heads, just compounding their frustration. Neither boy spoke a single word during those hours, and when the crowd was gone, they just shared a look and started up the stairs. Externally they were haughty and carefree, but even then, an experienced thief or judge of character could notice an odd tension around their eyes. Luckily for the boys, they wouldn’t meet any such individuals on their way into the Grand Courthouse.

Guards were still all over the place, and several gave Deranz and Nezzie odd looks, but the courthouse was generally open to the public, so they had no reason to stop them. Once inside, they quickly cut to the left to the entrance to the holding cells, and down a few flights of stairs. The holding cells were underground, and had served the same purpose in the old Fortress, so the path there was dank and misshapen, although the cells themselves had been constantly renovated, and so looked almost brand new compared to everything else.

The flights of stairs led to a large reception room for new prisoners being brought into the facilities. It was generally bare other than a desk at the back wall behind which the watch commander sat and handled visitors, defenders, and anyone else that had legitimate business with the prisoners. Next to the desk in the back wall was a thick steel door with a small barred window: the entrance into the actual holding cell area. Presently though, a horde of security guards milled around the room, talking amongst themselves in small groups. The watch commander sat with his hands behind his head and his legs on the table at the far end of the room. It had been as simple as ever for him to process Telfass Dire, but for some reason he had gleamed personal satisfaction from processing possibly the most important criminal to ever come through the Courthouse. Truth was, the Grand Courthouse didn’t usually get important criminals because the Black Market Council didn’t care much about crime… unless of course it interfered with business. And in those cases, there usually weren’t any prisoners to show for the problem’s resolution. For once though, the watch commander had done something with a semblance of importance, and that made his day all the better.

As Deranz and Nezeliezer approached the room, they were immediately greeted at the bottom of the stairs by one of the security guards in the room. This one was of some rank, and it was clearly his job to watch the stairs and make sure no unknown individuals made their way into the holding area. As such, Deranz and Nezeliezer exactly fit the description of people he was by no means supposed to let by.

“Stop right there,” the officer spat, in the cliché role of menacing official, “Get out of here, this area’s off limits.”

“Listen, Captain,” Deranz began, starting as tradition dictated by clearly overstating the officer’s rank, “We’re here to see one of our relative who’s in the holding cells waiting to be prosecuted, and we just wanted to come in for a quick minute to talk to the watch commander, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“I said skat, kid,” the officer replied, bored with his job and not willing to deal with any kind of actual issues, “Place is off limits today, and probably for a while, so you’re not gonna get to see your… well, whoever it is today. Just leave.”

The officer hefted his rifle, as if implying he was going to use it, and stood in front of the boys, barring their entrance to the room and leaving them on the bottom stair,

“Fair enough,” Nezeliezer said, no nonsense in his voice, “We don’t want to see the prisoner yet, all we want to do is talk to the watch commander. In fact, I can see him from here, right? About thirty feet away at most, probably less, the guy with his feet up on the table. All you have to do is walk us to his desk, and that’s it.”

Before the disgruntled officer could protest, Deranz pulled out a billfold and started counting out paper money. A few small bills were followed by a few large ones, and when the sum started getting into the low to mid hundreds, Deranz finally stopped and shook hands with the stunned guard,

“Captain, we very much appreciate you helping out two distraught sons in their time of need. Your generous and sympathetic nature will always be remembered,” Deranz said, and he and Nezzie just stood there.

The officer looked at the boys, then into his hand, then back at the boys. Finally, a smirk on his face, the officer stuck his right hand in his pocket and then pulled it back out,

“Alright, hands out to the sides, I gotta make sure neither of you’s carrying anything,” the man said, and Deranz quickly complied. Nezzie though, reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarillo case fist.

“Here you go, officer,” Nezzie said, handing the man the case, “This is all the metal I have on me, I just wanted to hand it to you up front so there wouldn’t be any surprises. If you’d like, you can hold on to it until we leave just in case, so that you’re sure it doesn’t have any other uses.”

The officer opened the case, admired the cigarillos in it, and closed it again, “Will do,” he said, “Thanks for being up front,” and then proceeded to frisk both Deranz and Nezeliezer. He checked their coats first and found nothing, followed by their shirts and pants. Finally, he checked every single pocket they had, and, satisfied that they had nothing on them, he motioned for them to drop their arms. Then, to the surprise of many of the other security guards in the room, he escorted Deranz and Nezeliezer to the watch commander’s desk on the far side, next to the steel door. Once there, the officer made some quick comment about them being there to see some relative that was due for trial, and quickly turned to go. As he passed Deranz, he mumbled,

“And that’s as much as I can do,” and walked back to his post. This left Deranz and Nezeliezer facing a very surprised watch commander, who had been certain that his duties for the day had been at an end. Of course, since the man was as much a bureaucrat as he was a security guard, he was used to various individuals, mostly poor, coming by to see their imprisoned family before trial, he just hadn’t expected it on this day. In truth, it was normal procedure and supposedly he even had an obligation to allow family members to visit incarcerated prisoners, but he was sure he’d been told that all other transactions were shut off for the day. As such, he was slightly confused, and very annoyed that his rest had been disturbed.

“What do you want?” the watch commander venomously asked of the two boys. His eyes quickly took in their expensive coats and proper attire, as well as their haughty stares, and his opinion dropped a few more notches. Not only was he being bothered by a few brats, but by wealthy brats at that, “All family visits are put off until a week from now. We have a prisoner that’s too sensitive to allow strangers in, and that means you can’t come in.”

“You must understand, Commander,” Deranz began, “we aren’t actually here to see any family,” at the watch commander’s raised eyebrow, Deranz rushed to continue, “we were actually hoping to see Telfass Dire. You see, he stole something from our father many years back, and we kind of wanted to ask him to reveal where he had put it, now that he’s going to be in jail for the rest of his life.”

A shocked watch commander couldn’t stammer out the necessary words to such a ludicrous request, and Nezeliezer continued, “Also, we were kind of just hoping to see him for curiosity’s sake. We’ve been trying to do everything new and interesting on this planet for the past few years, but nothing could possibly compare to being able to tell our friends we had actually seen Telfass Dire in jail, and talked to him.”

Deranz picked up, “We just want to talk to him for five minutes, no guards in the room so we can ask him about our heirloom. You’d have us on camera anyway, and there’s no way we try to help him escape, because he’s a bastard, and because you’ve got at least twenty-five guards in this room that’d have us dead before we took three steps out of the cell corridor.”

“Plus,” Nezzie added, “You know we’re safe. We’ve already been searched by your entry guard, and you even know who we are. You may’ve seen us a few weeks back on the Entertainment Report. I’m Nezeliezer, and this is Deranz. We’re not very hard to find, so if we did anything wrong, you guys could have us arrested in a manner of minutes. The press already knows where we party, it won’t be long before they know where we live too.”

“So,” Deranz smiled at the watch commander, “Whadda ya say? Can you do us a favor and let us in to see him for just five minutes?”

By now, the watch commander had regained his senses, and with each passing word his face developed and deeper and darker shade of red. As Deranz finally finished, the man spoke, his voice a harsh whisper, every word clear and articulated as if a hammer driving nail after nail into a coffin.

“You… must… be… INSANE!” The man growled, the last word coming out so loud as to make a few of the nearby guards jump. They hadn’t been listening to the conversation, but they were most definitely surprised at the watch commander’s outburst. A quick angry glare sent all of them back to their own thoughts, each doing their best to ignore the man and the boys in front of him, “To even think that I would allow such a thing is the pinnacle of stupidity. You rich brats think that you can get away with anything, well listen, and listen well. You’re not getting in to see Dire, you’re not going to have anything to brag about to your friends but a wasted trip, and you’re lucky I don’t have you arrested on the stop for even being here in this room, which is off limits to all…all civilians. Do you understand?”

Deranz didn’t move, and Nezzie sort of shrugged his shoulders. Then, he pulled out a very fat billfold from his pocket, and started leaving through it. The watch commander looked like he was going to explode again, but Nezzie spoke up first, “When we go in Commander, for extra safety, we’ll leave our coats with you. Actually,” and here Nezzie looked puzzled, “I had thought I had a lot more money on me, but I guess I only have two hundred,” with that Nezzie reached into his right pocket and searched around for a minute, “Hmm… nothing there.” Pulling his hand out, Nezzie took two bills from the billfold and put them in his left pocket. The remaining stack, easily several thousand credits and probably more, he dropped in his right pocket, with the roll staying at the top of pocket, ready to fall out.

The watch commander’s explosion never came, and whatever the man had been about to stay was instantly halted at the tip of his tongue. His eyes locked on the overlarge billfold and followed it as it dropped into the right coat pocket. The one Nezeliezer had said was ‘empty.’ The implication was clear, and the stack of money was more cash in one place than the petty bureaucrat had ever seen before in his life.

“R-right,” the man stuttered, “Your coats, it would be… it would be good to leave them… here.”

Without fuss, and completely calmly, the boys removed their coats and dropped them on the table. Nezzie dropped his first, and as he did a large lump bumped against the table and rolled out, going all the way across the far end of the table and dropping neatly into the watch commander’s lap. Deranz’ coat followed on top of Nezzie’s, and again the boys just waited. The watch commander looked suspiciously around the room, but it didn’t seem like any of the other security guards had been paying attention. He stuck the billfold in his pocket anyway, unwilling to leave it in a room full of people while he was gone, even for an instant. He stood and walked to the steel door, scanning his identification card, and entering a code, followed by a finger imprint check. A click was heard as the door unlatched, and one of the nearby guards made an inquiry of the watch commander.

“Just watch my desk for a few minutes,” the commander said gruffly, “these kids have a right to see their father, and they can’t wait the week pause because the old man’ll be put up on trial tomorrow. Wait here, I’ll vouch for them.”

The guard shrugged, and the watch commander escorted Deranz and Nezeliezer through the open door. The corridor that the door opened into had several cells on either side, and another in the back with a solid metal door, similar to the one leading into the cell area. Two more guards stood before the solid metal door with the small barred window, and a few of the cells on either side had some prisoner or another in them. It was clear where Telfass was being kept though, and as the the watch commander and the boys approached the guards, he spoke up,

“You two, you’re on break for five minutes, come back here with me so we can have a quick chat,” the watch commander said, and then turned to Deranz and Nezeliezer, “You have five minutes, not a second more. We’ll be at the far end of the hall, and if you make any sudden movements, expect to be gunned down without warning. You can see him through the small barred window, and you can talk to him through it. Where we’ll be, we won’t hear if you’re quiet enough, so there’s your privacy. Now go, and don’t make me have to shoot you.”

With that, the commander took the two guards back to the entrance, and started talking with them in hushed whispers. He pulled some money out of the billfold in his pocket and it quickly changed hands, and from there, the conversation continued in a somewhat normal manner. Finally though, the boys were basically alone with Telfass. They had gotten through the first part.

“Telfass, we’re here,” Deranz said through the grate, making sure to keep his voice low enough so that it wouldn’t travel down the length of the corridor. A second later, the wizened face of their master, mentor, and erstwhile father appeared at the grate. He looked unhurt, and entirely unfazed.

“Good, I’m glad you’re here boys, I was worried about you,” Dire said, a hint of relief in his voice. He only let emotion bleed into his tone when addressing close friends and relations.

“You were worried about us??” Nezzie burst out, “Are you kidding, we’ve spent all morning trying to figure out just what the frell is going on, and whether you’re alright or not, and you were worried about us?”

Telfass chuckled, “Yes boys, I was worried about you. I was worried that you’d gone and done something rash rather than coming to see me first. I wasn’t worried very much of course, I had figured I’d taught you better than that, but knowing that you only got back from your last mission last night, I was worried that you’d still be a little discombobulated and act too quickly.”

“Telfass,” Deranz asked, “do you know what’s going on? Why did they arrest you? And for something we did, rather than yourself? Is there anything you can tell us?”

“It’s a power play,” Telfass replied, “The Black Market Council clearly thinks that the Guild is exerting too much power on Vuun, and they needed to make a public and clear statement that they wouldn’t tolerate it any more. You’ve seen the media blitz, they knew it’s exactly what’d happen if they went after me. They’re telling the Guild to back off by putting me on trial for some phony charges, forcing me off-planet worst-case. It’s all politics boys.”

“So then we’ll get you out of here,” Nezzie replied, “We have everything we need to bust you out right now. You said that they were willing to force you off-planet as part of the message, well let’s do it now. Let’s get out of here, Telfass.” Nezzie was almost pleading at the end, both he and Deranz could sense something amiss in the quiet way in which Telfass discussed the entire situation.

“Boys,” their mentor answered sternly, “Do you really think that if I wanted out of this cell I wouldn’t have done it myself by now? No,” Telfass sighed, “I’ve known for some time that this was a possibility, ever since I came out of hiding and left the Guild to live in the open in Vuun. I’ve sort of been expecting this. Boys, I don’t want you to do anything. We’re going to wait and see how this entire thing plays out. The Vuun Council will make it’s next move soon enough, we’ll just see what it is.”

“What?”

“Come on!”

Deranz and Nezeliezer’s exclamations came one on top of the other. “You can’t be serious, Telfass,” Deranz asked, frustrated and half desperate, “You expect us to sit aside and do nothing while they stage this whole mockery of a trial?”

Again, Telfass just gave the boys that all-knowing whimsical smile, “I doubt it’ll take all that long, boys, I doubt it very much. Listen, boys, I know I’ve never really said this as such, and I know that you know how I feel, but I want to state it just once, so it’s there outright. I’m very proud of both of you. You’ve come such a long way from the raw potential that I saw in you when you were just little street urchins, managing to survive on your wits alone. And the truth is, you both still have so much further to go, so many more places that your potential can take you. Never lose your trust and faith in each other boys… even the toughest soldier will survive an extra day with a close friend to watch his back, and that’s all we have in this world: survival.”

“Why are you talking like that?” Nezzie said as he peered into Telfass’ eyes, but the old man didn’t look away, and he didn’t blink, he just stared back, smiling.

“You know boys, as I’ve gotten older, I’ve sometimes regretted that I never had the chance to go out in a blaze of glory like I thought I would when I was younger,” Telfass mused, “I guess the opportunity’s pretty much gone now that I’m in prison, huh?”

The old man chuckled, “I think your time is up boys. Remember, you’ve done me proud, and do me proud again by waiting this one out. You’re a good legacy boys. A good legacy.”

And just like that, their brief interview was over, and the watch commander was approaching with the two guards.

“Time’s up,” the man said, and the guards resumed their positions on either side of the door as the watch commander walked the kids back down the hall, “So, did you find out about your heirloom?”

“Man’s a stone,” Deranz mumbled.

“Even in prison, he wouldn’t spill a drop,” Nezzie added, and the boys walked out of with the commander. As the approached the steel door, Nezzie threw his arm around the commander, “Hey, thanks a lot, we really appreciate this. Even though we didn’t find out what we wanted, it was still a great experience.”

The watch commander laughed, “Hey, if the experience was worth what you paid for it, I was glad to help.”

The door was opened, and the boys silently picked up their coats and walked out of the room, Nezzie picking up his cigarillo case on the way out. They continued out of the courthouse, and once again, neither spoke, but now for different reasons. Neither was sure just why Telfass had been talking like he had. They were certain he knew more than he had told them, but they had to abide by his wishes and remain idle while this trial went on.

Back in another taxi on the way home to their apartment, Deranz finally heaved his shoulders and let out a long sigh, “We have to trust him Nezzie, we have to trust that he knows what he’s doing.”

“How can we not?” the other replied, “I mean, he’s still light-years ahead of us in experience and thought-process. He’s got the information, and he’s setting the appropriate course of action. Given all the information, I guess it’s really best for us to do nothing… But frell, Deranz, that’s so sithin’ hard…”

“I know,” Deranz whispered, “Iknow.” Then, with sudden mirth, the larger boy laughed, “Hey, at least it didn’t cost much to see him.”

For a moment, the mood was broken and Nezzie let out a chuckle too, “Yeah, I guess not,” he answered as he fingered the billfold he had lifted off of the watch commander on their way out of the courthouse.

The boys laughed, but after the first second or so the sound of it was hollow in their ears, and again, their thoughts were consumed by the idea of Telfass sitting in prison, and his orders that they do nothing about it. At least for now.

*****

Edit: Oops, forgot to resolve cigarillo case first time around :P...
'And So it Goes'
Posts: 214
Joined: Sun Feb 16, 2003 1:07 pm

Post by Jack_Sigma »

*****

They walked up to the sixth floor because they didn’t trust the lift. A lift only had a certain amount of entry and exit points, but its path was predictable. The lift got off at the same spot on each floor, and it was impossible to change that. It was also difficult to go into evasive maneuvers in a lift, given that it was, well, a lift. What was worse, a lift could be shut down from various remote locations and for a variety of reasons. The power could go out, the machinery could break down, or it could be deactivated from a central control room. The little evading one actually could do in a lift generally entailed leaving out the top, but even this was a very limited option. Any intelligent commando squadron or police force would have men waiting a floor above wherever the lift hade been stalled, the doors into the shaft open, and rifles at the ready. Basically, if someone was gunning for you and had the resources, a lift was a deathtrap.

On the other hand, the stairs had their own deficiencies, but at least these were more manageable. On a flight of stairs, two individuals could be cut off by groups of several men from both above and below, but there were more options for evading, hiding, or fighting, depending on the situation. First and most important, enemy units couldn’t known exactly where on the stairs someone was without having a tracking beacon attached to the target. This meant either overloading the stairwell by sending advance units in every single floor landing, or sending one group up and one group down until the inevitable happened. The one option took a lot of men, and the second meant that a few good warriors could overpower one or the other group, or at least escape by killing the troops inevitably stationed to guard each exit.

In any case, Deranz and Nezeliezer took the stairs. Maybe they were still paranoid after Telfass had been arrested for something they had done, and maybe there were just properly cautious, but being stuck in a lift for even five seconds just didn’t seem like a good idea.

When Deranz slowly and silently pushed the door open to the sixth floor corridor, their fears and suspicions seemed well-grounded. A quick glance beyond the slightly opened door revealed a shadowy figure loitering by the door of the boys’ apartment. The figure was on its haunches, and clearly waiting for them to come home. From its crouched position in the oddly darkened hallway, it was impossible to tell how big the figure really was, or even what species, but it was most certainly expecting them to come home. Deranz just as slowly let the door close, and motioned all the pertinent information to Nezeliezer in the hand signals the boys used to communicate with each other on missions.

One revealed. Danger level unknown. Unknown if any hidden.

Nezzie nodded, and started fiddling with his clothes. Deranz did the same. First, he pulled a pair of black gloves from his coat pocket. These gloves, while appearing to be simple black leather, were actually simple black leather covering thin and sturdy metal mesh gloves. They wouldn’t stop a blaster bolt or a direct knife blow, but used properly they could possibly deflect one. This was not their initial purpose though, as Deranz then pulled a long wire out of the seam of his right pant leg. The wire was extremely thin, and extremely sharp. It was almost impossible to handle without protective gear without getting cut, and such handling would require the utmost care. Wrapping the slack of the wire around his right hand, Deranz felt it cut through the leather exterior and halt against the mesh. Having wrapped enough, Deranz interwove the rest of the wire length around the fingers of his right hand near the knuckles, to serve as a sort of metal knuckles. Meanwhile, Nezeliezer had somehow managed to construct a simple knife from inside his clothing.

The boys eyes locked, and they walked into the hall, deeply and loudly engaged in the middle of one of the prefabricated arguments for just such reasons. To make it realistic, the boys really did have a few topics they always argued about in order to make the performance good. This time, they chose the benefits of the Core versus the Rim as the mock-fight.

“More money in the Core,” Deranz said, as the two made their way towards their door, extremely conscious of every sound, flash of light, or hint of movement along the hall.

“Yeah, but more authority too, from what we hear. They have rules and laws, and a Bounty Hunter Guild that tracks down people for a price. It’s never good to mess with Guilds like that. We hit the wrong guy, and we’ll have real Hunters on our tail. That’s just not good business,” Nezzie replied. By now, the boys were only thirty feet away from their room, but the figure remained crouched, its collar up, staring down the other end of the hall towards the lift exit.

Deranz fist tightened around the razor-wire, and the boy prepared to lunge, when the figure stood up, and turned towards the boys.

Deranz halted in mid-step as Nenya’s tear-stained face and wet eyes met his across the hallway. Hers reflected the dim lighting in the hallway, because of the tears that had been flowing only seconds before; his were rather turned inward, concerned about his sorrow and plans for the future. To the outside world, they were cold and dead, but when that light reflected off of Nenya’s eyes and shone on Deranz’, something flickered in them, if only for a second.

Nezzie stopped dead too, the blade in his hand had been a few seconds from flying out to maim their unknown assailant, but now just hung in midair along with the rest of the shocked Nezzie’s arm.

“Nenya,” the startled boy stammered, the first of the two to break out of their surprise, “What are you doing here? We… we thought you were home… we were sure…” Nezzie paused, and Deranz butt in,

“How did you get here? And when?” And finally aware of what was going on, Deranz asked the obvious question, “And why are you crying?”

ooc:/again, sorry for stop mid-post, hate doing it, but I gotta get used to going to bed/waking up early again... talk about something that sucks... waking up... eugh :shock:
'And So it Goes'
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Post by Jack_Sigma »

For a moment, the girl broke into sobs and couldn’t contain herself, and then finally tried to gather herself, “What- what do you mean… why am I crying?” she blurted out furiously wiping at her eyes, “I’m not crying, I’m just tearing up a bit…”

Deranz almost smiled at the girl’s stubbornness, “Nenya…” he said, softly, coaxingly, “what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” The girl’s mood suddenly jumped from sobbing to furious in a split second, “What’s wrong? Where’ve you two been all day? I’ve been sitting out here since this morning, waiting for you to come home… I thought…” her anger faded as quickly as it had appeared, “I thought...” The words came as a whisper, and she fell to sobbing once more, throwing herself into Deranz chest’ and crying her heart out on his shoulder.

Nezzie looked decidedly awkward. None of the usual jibs came out of his mouth about Nenya’s clear preference and affection for Deranz, and for once, her crying on Deranz’ shoulder didn’t seem to bother him. Instead, he just stood there, trying to figure out what to do about a weeping girl. As much as Deranz and Nezeliezer had been trained to steal and kill, a crying woman was far beyond either of their expertise, and Nezzie’s lack of tact when it came to emotions did nothing to help the situation. Deranz wasn’t much better and felt just as awkward, but he tried to at least calm Nenya down. Stroking her back, he spoke quietly, calmly, soothingly to her, as one would to a nervous Treshir beast before riding it. It was the only comparable situation he could think of, and he figured maybe it’d help.

“Nenya,” he started, holding her gently and letting her cry, “Calm down… tell us, is something wrong? Everything’s going to be alright. If this is about Telfass, don’t worry, everything’ll be alright.”

The sobs finally stopped and the girl took a step back from Deranz, herself feeling embarrassed at her moment of weakness, but her eyes narrowed,

“You think this is about Telfass..?” she started, and then caught herself. “Deranz, when we heard about Telfass, Daddy sent me out here first thing on the Aerit Horizon, to find you two, to see if you had been captured or arrested, to see if you were still…” her voice caught a bit on the last word, “still alive. We weren’t worried about Telfass, at least not in that sense. We saw the reports this morning, we know he was taken into custody on some trumped up charges, but we know he’s still alive, if uncomfortable. Plus, Telfass Dire is Telfass Dire, a little thing like this isn’t going to faze him… but when we saw that there was no mention of you two, we figured only two things could’ve happened. Either you were fine and no one knew about you, or the Council had decided you weren’t any good for publicity and had quietly taken you out. We were worried you…” she stopped all of a sudden as Nezzie put a finger to her lips and shook his head. An indignant look flashed across Nenya’s features but Nezzie just ignored it and elbowed Deranz. The larger boy, realizing what was going on, nearly smacked himself in the head for getting sidetracked.

With a look, Deranz halted Nenya from whatever clearly sarcastic remark was about to emerge from her already open mouth, and took up a position next to the door. Nezzie quietly and calmly keyed the lock, and the door swung open silently. The apartment was still lit with outside light, and the boys swept in, looking with a suspicious eye at every fixture and piece of furniture. The food the boys had been eating when they heard the report was still on the table, in the same positions they had been left in. The only difference was a faintly rotten smell wafting over from what was left of Deranz’ bread with the Maltian fish spread. The boys motioned Nenya to follow and quickly shut the door.

“How long were you out there?” Nezzie asked, his voice detached and businesslike.

“What?” Nenya remarked in surprise at the question, mentally cursing the boys for making her ask that question so many times in one fifteen minute period, “What does that have to do with…”

She didn’t finish because Deranz cut her off, “How long, Nenya, it’s important.”

The girl sighed, “I don’t know, four, maybe five hours? I got here pretty early, I think it was still morning.”

The boys exchanged a look, then disappeared into the different rooms of the apartment, leaving Nenya stunned and confused. Luckily, this state didn’t last long, and within a minute, the boys were back in the living room, throwing themselves tiredly down on the couch.

“What were you saying?” a suddenly weary Deranz asked Nenya, “You were worried we..?”

“Wait,” the girl forestalled him, “What was that all about?”

“You weren’t out there long enough to cover the entire time we were gone,” Nezzie replied, “Which meant someone had enough time to break in and plant any sort of bug or weapon while we were gone. We were just being cautious, is all. You were saying?” Nezzie prompted as well.

“Oh,” Nenya said, looking abashed for some reason, “Right, I was saying that we were worried you were going to do something stupid.”

Nezzie threw his hands up and Deranz barked out a laugh, “What is it with everyone today, Nez?”

The other boy just shook his head, “I was willing to accept it from Telfass, but come on Nenya, when was the last time we did something stupid?” And, seeing the girl’s mouth open almost instantly in response, Nezzie quickly added, “Professionally?”

The girl’s mouth shut as quickly as it had opened. While Deranz and Nezeliezer had had their share of ambiguously intelligent moments while out about town, when it came to jobs, Telfass had taught them well. They still made mistakes, and they still landed themselves in some pretty tough situations, but usually their mistakes weren’t blatantly stupid, just misjudgments or minor oversights, which in turn created bigger problems. Those were bad enough, stupid mistakes got people killed.

“Fine,” Nenya relented, “Not stupid, but at least rash. We were worried you’d run off and try to rescue Telfass, killing whoever and whatever was in your way, and that you’d get yourselves shot, or caught.” The girl paused for a second, “Speaking of which, where were you all day? I’m sure you weren’t out merrymaking…”

“We went to see Telfass,” Deranz replied nonchalantly, too tired to even laugh at the way Nenya’s eyes popped open at the comment.

“You went to do what??” The girl nearly yelled, “How the frell did you manage to do that? And listen, that seems to very nearly fall under the category of doing something stupid to me…” she paused and took a deep breath, “How did you get in?”

“Money’s a skeleton key,” Nezzie said, throwing the billfold he had still had in his pocket onto the table next to the spoiled and forgotten breakfast, “We tossed that at the head guard and he let us in. Made up some story about why we wanted to see the old man. And as for why it wasn’t stupid… it was probably the smartest thing we could’ve done, considering that Telfass told us not to do anything. If we hadn’t seen him, I’m sure we’d be planning his escape right now. For tonight probably, or at least for tomorrow.”

“Hold on,” Nenya stopped him, “If you bribed the guard with that money, why do you still have…” she suddenly stopped herself before asking a ridiculously dumb question of two highly trained thieves, “and Telfass said not to do anything? Why?”

“Who knows?” Deranz answered, poking at the remains of the breakfast with a wary finger, “I doubt anyone except for him. He knows though. He definitely knows what’s going on, and he knows what’s going to happen next. I’m sure of that. And he told us to hold off and see how this thing plays out. So we’ll do that. At least for now.”

The boys looked at Nenya expectantly for the next question, be she simply said, “Oh,” and motioned for the boys to move over a little so she could plop herself down on the couch, “Well… I’m glad you’re alright. And Telfass will be ok, you know that old codger is too tough to let anything happen to him.”

Deranz couldn’t help but chuckle at Nenya’s swift transformation from near-hysteria to attempting to comfort the boys, as if they had been the ones upset and crying all along. Or maybe she was just trying to convince herself. Either way, Deranz was getting tired of all this talk, and he could feel his stomach’s gentle attempts to remind him that if he didn’t eat soon, it’d hurt a lot more in the near future.

“Food?” he asked philosophically, giving Nenya a brief nod beforehand so that she wouldn’t think he was entirely ignoring her well-meant reassurances. Nezzie seemed to break out of a daze with the word, and looked down at the table, his face contorting at the spoiled mess that was left.

“Eugh.” Nezzie replied, “We can’t order in, so I guess someone has to make a foray to get it. Hope he doesn’t get arrested on the way over,” Nezzie added, for some reason with a twisted grin.

“I’ll go,” Deranz responded, the same look on his face. “No way,” Nezzie replied, “I get to go. You got to sneak up on that gun emplacement on Relasse, so it’s my turn.”

“Ugh!!” Nenya’s frustrated cry shut them both up, “It’s just getting food, why does it have to be such an argument?” She looked them both in the eye, and immediately realized the answer to her own question. They were hoping someone would try to arrest them. These boys were frustrated beyond compare at Telfass’ orders, at having to sit around and do nothing. They were aching to get in a fight, to completely tear someone apart and work out their irritation.

Nenya sighed, “Listen, Daddy should be here within a half hour, he comm’ed me a little while before you got here that he was on final approach and had a spot in the landing pattern. I’ll call ahead and tell him to bring us food, fine? No one needs to go anywhere, and we can spend the extra time cleaning this ridiculous mess. And I don’t want any arguments.”

Their grins a little deflated, the boys couldn’t help but smile nonetheless at their friend’s sudden sense of command. With a quick and sarcastic ‘yes ma’am,’ the boys picked themselves up off the couch and got to work cleaning. First they decided what they were going to eat, and Nenya called it in to her father, who, as it turned out, had already landed and was on his way over. By the time Marcus Daine arrived at the apartment with armloads of junk-food and an actual meal to boot, the apartment was cleaner than when the boys had woken up in the morning having been gone several days. It was amazing what a woman’s touch could do to a place in just a short while.

The night passed peacefully and pleasantly. Daine stayed for dinner and a short while after, and then left to set up the rooms that he had in the city for the night, as well as make a few inquiries. Nenya convinced her father to let her remain with the boys for the night, and make sure that they indeed didn’t do anything impulsive. Other than the fact that somewhere across town, Telfass Dire sat in a jail cell, it was a perfectly pleasant evening. At the end of it, Nezeliezer went off to bed, while Deranz and Nenya remained on the couch, talking quietly. They fell asleep that way, Deranz sitting up with his head tilted back over the back of the couch, and Nenya with her head on his shoulder. If not for a man they all loved being in a cell, it was a perfectly idyllic scene.

*****

Deranz’ head popped up as the front door shook from someone’s loud banging. Nenya woke up too, but seemed groggy, and Deranz had no time to be gentle with her. Slithering out of his spot on the couch in one quick motion, causing Nenya, who had been using him as support, to suddenly fall over, Deranz reached into the back of the couch and pulled out a hidden blaster. Nezzie shot out of his room an instant later, in his boxers, an assault rifle in his hands. The banging didn’t cease, but suddenly the boys heard a voice,

“Boys! It’s me!” the flustered voice shouted, “Open the door…”

“Me who?” Nezzie shouted back, unable to recognize the voice over the banging and its own yelling. Nenya meanwhile had regained her bearings after her rough awakening, and quickly ran to the door.

“Daddy!” she said as she unlocked and opened it, and a red-faced Marcus Daine stood in the doorway, facing the barrels of two uncertain laser weapons. Upon seeing him, the boys let out a sigh, and put their guns down.

“Marcus,” Deranz said, “Man, you could’ve said it was you before banging, or something. If Nenya hadn’t recognized your voice we could’ve easily fired first and wondered later when someone comes trying to break down our door at…” Deranz suddenly looked confused, “Wait, what time is it, anyway?”

Marcus Daine closed the door behind him and locked it once more, while Deranz took a glimpse outside. It was still generally dark, although a faint sheen was starting to encompass the city as the sun began to rise somewhere beyond the horizon of steel and broken dreams that was Vuun. The man drew his daughter close to him in an embrace, and then told her to sit down for a minute. She obeyed, and the former pirate approached the boys.

“Boys, you might want to sit down for a minute,” he started, waiting to give them a moment to comply. The both exchanged a puzzled glance, “That’s alright Marcus,” Nezzie said, utterly confused, “What’s up?”

Marcus shook his head a little, then took a deep breath. “I wanted to get here as soon as I heard, to make sure you heard it from me…”

After what he said next, the floor dropped out from under Deranz, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see Nezeliezer reel back as if gut-checked. A sinking sensation unlike any other he had felt, or at least felt recently, encompassed his very soul. Questions and answers drifted through his head, neither finding purchase with the other, and for the first time in years, if not ever, Deranz felt completely discombobulated. He didn’t know where he was, or if he was dreaming or not. He saw Nenya weeping on the couch, he saw Nezzie’s face hardening into stone next to him. Most of all though, what threatened to overwhelm Deranz was an overbearing sense of failure. Failure. And the feeling kept multiplying, and every second brought a ringing repetition of Marcus Daine’s words, which amplified and deepened that dark pit.

Telfass Dire was murdered last night in his jail cell.

A second passed like an eternity. Then another. Then possibly a few more. Deranz slowly became aware of his surroundings once again, and especially of the odd look on Nenya’s face as she looked at him with bleary and tearful eyes. It was a look of pity and sympathy, yet tinged with shock, and a little fear. She stared at him and Nezeliezer as if they were some kind of strange beings, uncertain of how to respond to them. Deranz saw a strange look on Marcus Daine’s face too, but this one wasn’t of confusion, shock, or fear. Instead, it was pity, but more so an indescribable weariness and sadness. And, more so, it was recognition, because Marcus knew… he knew what came next. These looks on his friends’ faces puzzled Deranz, but he still couldn’t think completely clearly. He felt like he could’ve been crying for days, and he tried to lift his hand to his eyes to wipe the tears away. He realized first that it was a challenge to unclench his fist, and as he reached up and touched his face, he realized that it was completely dry. Not a single tear had fallen, but with his hand inches from his face, Deranz realized it was wet nonetheless. Looking carefully, Deranz saw the red streak across the palm of his hand. It was… blood? His blood? It was the furrows that his nails had left in his palm as he had tightened every muscle on his body. Deranz realized that he had been clenched up so much, that every tendon and vein on his muscled frame stood out in sharp relief. Suddenly, one of his cognitive functions clicked in, and he realized the probable cause of Marcus and Nenya’s expressions. Deranz looked for a mirror, but could only see Nezzie, and that was good enough. Nezzie had looked over towards him at the same time, seeking recognition of his own features via those of his friend. Deranz had been right. The splitting image of bloody murder stood before him; a cold, heartless, vicious, and bloodthirsty animal, with the intelligence to match. A human weapon that wanted nothing more than to be used to achieve its goal. Deranz realized that this mask of Death was echoed in his own features. In the back of his skull, those red eyes threatened to burn their way out. Deranz could feel them, he could see them, he could hear them calling his name. Or maybe it wasn’t his name their were calling, but Deranz would respond to it nonetheless. Death, they cried. Death, the implored. Death! they demanded, and Death would heed their call, or rather their call would be heeded. Either way, Deranz knew where the future lay, and it was that same recognition that he had seen in Marcus Daine’s face. He knew too.

The universe righted itself, and reality swirled back into one piece. The broken shards of vision and thought rearranged themselves and formed a whole again, but maybe not in the same formation as they had once had. Deranz calmed and released his breath, and the tension flowed from him. Next to him, he felt more than saw Nezeliezer do the same.

Their first question was asked in unison and neither even noticed it, as they spoke in one voice,

“Who?”
'And So it Goes'
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Post by Jack_Sigma »

Marcus Daine sort of shrugged, but replied anyway, “Supposedly, it was some rogue group inside the Vuun Security Force. They altered the duty rosters for guarding Telfass last night and snuck a large group of men for the shift. No one is sure yet how many men tried to kill him, but eight were found dead in his cell, a few with broken necks or skulls, some with stab wounds, and the ones who they believe died last with blaster wounds. Telfass himself had several knives in him, and was shot several times. The fatal wounds were believed to have been the several blaster-induced holes in his right lung, or possibly the knife in his back, although they’ll have to do a thorough post-mortem to see if it cut into his heart from behind or not. He put up a hell of a fight boys, considering that he was unarmed and in a jail cell when they arrived, but not even he could hold off considering the narrow space and lack of weaponry. From the amount of scorch marks around the cell, and the amount of dead men still holding blasters, or rather those that even managed to draw theirs, it is believed that there were anywhere from twelve to fifteen men, possibly more if the rest didn’t draw weapons. Best guess is fourteen, considering that the night duty roster contained twenty men, and five and the prison watch commander were found dead in the entry room to the cell block.”

“Any suspicions of why?” Nezzie asked, and his voice was so detached that it may as well have come from a machine.

“The belief is that there was word going around that the Vuun Council didn’t have enough evidence to actually convict Telfass, that the arrest was premature. Seems that these troops decided to try and curry favor with the higher-ups by eliminating Telfass while he was still a captive, so that the problem could be removed without need of a trial,” Marcus replied, “At least that’s word on the street.”

“The Council,” Deranz said, his voice dripping with venom, “There’s no way that this could’ve been done without their approval. This must’ve been the plan all along… arrest Telfass so that no large-scale assault on his heavily fortified house was necessary, and then kill him while ducking direct responsibility. Next thing they’ll probably stage an assault on the renegades’ hideout and kill them all, thereby extracting quick and thorough justice.”

“He knew,” Nezzie whispered, and the full weight of his simple words suddenly penetrated to the depths of Deranz’ mind.

“He knew,” Deranz repeated, and the question of why was suddenly larger than ever in his vision. Telfass had to have known… all that talk of being proud of them, and having wanted to go out in a blaze of glory when he was younger came back to Deranz with a whole new meaning. They had wondered the entire way home what it was that Telfass had known and hadn’t revealed to them, and this had to be it. Telfass knew he was going to be assassinated. And he was willing to accept that, for the Abyss knows what reason. It was all politics he had said, and the Vuun Council had made a power play, it was just that entirety of it wasn’t visible from the limited scope of the previous morning. Telfass last words to the boys glowed in Deranz’ head, “You’re a good legacy,” he had said, “A good legacy.” He had been done, and he had bid his farewell to the youths. Anger bubbled up in Deranz, although he quickly quashed it down. Even if it was Telfass, the fact that he hadn’t told the boys about his impending death made Deranz furious. He had loved them, but not enough to let them know he was going to die? No, there had to be more to it than that. He hadn’t wanted them to rescue him, he had wanted the cards to play out as they had been dealt. There had to be more, because in any game of cards or strategy, there was always a next move. In war, there was always a next move. There was some kind of reaction that Telfass expected or assumed would take place, but as always with the wily old man, he expected the boys to reach it on their own. A final test? Could this be his farewell? It would make perfect sense, but there was still something Deranz was missing.

“How will the Guild react?” Nezzie asked, voicing that one thought that Deranz just hadn’t been able to wrap his head around, “Telfass said it was a power play, but the next move is the Guild’s, not ours. No one accounted us into this equation of politics.”

“It’ll either be War, or the Guild will take the slap on the wrist and do nothing. Telfass was no longer associated with them explicitly, and he was a criminal living in the open. If the Guild retaliates, they must either target the culprits or wage War against the Vuun Council. There is no middle ground,” Marcus answered Nezzie’s query.

“So then we need to know what the Guild is planning to do before we plan our own move,” Deranz stated determinedly, “In the overall equation, the open moves are the Guild and the Council, but like you said Nezzie, no one accounted for us. Telfass’ knew we had a move to make, we just have to determine what it is. I’m sure he knew we’d want revenge… I’m sure he wouldn’t deny us that.”

“Boys,” Marcus interjected, “I’m certain that Telfass would’ve wanted most of all for you two to stay alive. There doesn’t need to be death right now, and there doesn’t need to be violence. Leave Rayje, go to the Core, make your way and make your money. Find your destiny or whatever it is you may want… but don’t do what you’re about to do. Please…” the last word was almost pleading, and for a second Deranz pitied the older Daine. He too had lost one of his oldest and closest friends, and the boys, in their grief and anger, hadn’t even given a thought to his feelings. Daine was an old had at it though, he had lost friends and those that he loved, so he wouldn’t show it, but he had to be in as much pain as the boys. It was obvious that he cared about the boys like they were family, and he didn’t want to lose them too. It was even possible that losing the boys would be more than this weary old pirate could bear, but as long as he had Nenya, he’d survive. In any case, the boys didn’t have the luxury of indulging him. Or maybe they did, but they weren’t about to… they had work to do.

“Marcus,” Deranz said gently, “I understand that Telfass would’ve wanted us to survive, and I understand that you do too. Well understand me when I say that this will play out the way it will play out, and nothing can be done to stop it, or us. If you want us to stay alive, the best thing you could do is help us in any way that we ask of you. We’re going to take care of this, Marcus, but we could always use help.”

Daine nodded, then sighed, “I didn’t really expect anything else from the students of Dire, but I had to ask, didn’t I? So what’s the next move? And how can I help?”

“We go visit the Thieves Guild Council and see what action they’re going to take,” Nezzie replied, “If you or Nenya could either stick around here or just keep an eye on the place while we’re gone we’d appreciate it. We’re still not sure if we’ve been made, and it’ll be nice not to have to worry about our apartment getting bugged or booby-trapped while we’re gone.”

“Consider it done,” Daine said, “Nenya’ll stay here and keep the place locked up tight, and I’m going to use this as my base for the day while I make a few inquiries of my own. Good luck boys.”

Deranz and Nezeliezer nodded but just stood there for a minute,

“Full mission gear?” Deranz asked his partner and friend.

“I think so,” Nezeliezer answered with barely a second thought, “We might as well let the Guild know we’re serious.”

*****

ooc:/ wow, this thing's gotten so long that MS Word told me I had too many spelling errors for it to keep displaying them... I dunt spel bad, do Ie? :P
'And So it Goes'
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Post by Jack_Sigma »

The non-descript cantina next to a café that Deranz and Nezeliezer walked into could have been one of a million on any number of planets all over the known galaxy. An overweight but gruff bartender served drinks with his cute female partner, and a two-bit band played instruments that could have sorely used a tune-up in the back corner. Drunks and vagrants with a few credits left to their name either slouched at the bar, or lounged at the dirty tables dispersed throughout the place. Another female of an uncertain purple species, this one a lot harder on the eyes than the second bartender, served something that looked like it may have been food to the patrons in the couple of booths to the back corner of the cantina. A bouncer with a thrice broken nose and even more broken face stood just inside the entrance. The man was big but he wasn’t tall, and Deranz was the larger of the two. He looked fairly dumb, and his only visible weapons were a club that he held in his left hand, and a blaster at his side. All told, the bar was most definitely a dive, and the customers, while appearing varied in wealth, were the farthest thing from classy one could imagine. Hunters and scumbags filled in some of the spots the vagrants didn’t, making the Broken Horn a very dangerous place.

The bouncer, a fellow by the name of Hlam, stepped forward when Deranz and Nezeliezer entered. He looked stupid, but he was actually a very astute thief, and had known both Telfass and the boys for years. He was the first level of defense for this place, and his weapons, other than his body, numbered far more than those that everyone could see. He had trained the boys for a few weeks before their final apprenticeship to Telfass when they were sixteen. He too recognized the bloody murder in their eyes.

“Listen, boys, I was sorry to hear about Telfass,” he started, rather gently for someone as big and ugly as he was, “He was one of our best… and if there’s any way I can help, let me know.”

Nezzie didn’t say anything but just nodded, and Deranz put a hand on Hlam’s shoulder, “Thanks, we appreciate that. We’re here to see Them, are they all here?”

“Yeah,” Hlam replied, “They’re all here. They’ve been in meetings all day, people coming and going. The place has been a madhouse ever since Telfass got arrested, and since early this morning, it’s basically gone insane. Go on in, boys, you know where to find Them.”

Deranz and Nezeliezer thanked the gruff bouncer again and glanced around the ‘madhouse,’ which was no more full that usual, and as active as Threshan sleeping beast. Hlam stepped aside and the boys went on through, exchanging nods with both bartenders as they passed by. Neither said anything, but the boys could see their condolences in their expressions. Telfass had been a legend around Vuun, and even more so within the Thieves Guild, and at home base, a lot of the regulars knew who Deranz and Nezeliezer had been in relation to him. The looks somewhat bothered Deranz; he could handle his own grief, but this onslaught of pity he and Nezzie were receiving puzzled and aggravated him. It was if the others thought they were helpless in the situation, and could do nothing but mourn. This was entirely untrue though, and rationally, Deranz was certain that they had those looks because they shared the boys’ feelings. He was just getting paranoid, and aching for action. He didn’t want to see pity because he didn’t want to pity himself, and he knew that the boys were far from helpless. Those that gave the orders for this act didn’t even know the kind of Violence that had brought down upon themselves.

The boys walked through the sparsely occupied bar and towards a back curtain, guarded by another bouncer, this one a slight man wearing a whole host of weapons. Another quick exchange of murmured condolences and the boys went through the curtain and down a short hallway that turned first to the right, and then to the left with several doors on either side, but finally ended in a reinforced door. The boys knocked and a slot opened, two alluringly violet and red flecked eyes looking out at them. The slot slammed shut and the door opened, revealing a gorgeous Twi’lek in her prime, wearing a tight-fitting body suit and several bandoliers. Her sharp teeth echoed the same condolences the boys had heard numerous times already, and she stepped back for them to walk in. Any newcomer to the room would’ve been shocked, expecting the entrance to the Thieves’ Guild, but would’ve instead found a small bare room with a little desk at the far side. On the desk was a game of holo-chess, and next to it were two steel chairs, one of them occupied by a Devish who was missing half a horn and was adorned with various tattoos that covered both his arms and could be seen tracing up the bottom of his neck above his shirt. The other chair had clearly held the Twi’lek, who closed the door to the room after the boys had entered. The Devish hit a control under the holo-chess table, and one of the unmarked walls slid away, allowing the boys access to another area. This area was surprisingly enough at the back of the café that stood next door to the cantina, but was inaccessible from the café itself, unless in an emergency. The café was also a Thieves Guild front, and having the actual entrance to the central headquarters behind the café ensured that no one breaking up the cantina would manage to actually reach the place, or at least not without a fair bit of difficult thinking and fighting.

From the back area of the café, Deranz and Nezeliezer proceeded down another hallway and into a room where the real secret entrance to the Thieves Guild headquarters was located. Another guard ushered them through, but this time, rather than a door, part of the floor gave way into a downwards staircase that led to the secret tunnels below Vuun. It was there, near a locus of tunnels, that the Guild had made it’s home. Once upon a while ago, when the Guild was first being established, some prodigious thief had wandered into the tunnels to hide from a pursuer, and come upon the locus of tunnels. He realized it would be perfect to build a hidden base nearby. With the help of some of his thief brethren and some “well-earned” money, the group demolished the walls between a section of the tunnels a little to the side of the nexus, and created a large open space there. They created a hidden entrance from the new room into the nexus, and set up base there. Over the centuries, the single room grew into two, and then a few more, and as more passages were swept into the construct, access to them from the outside was shut off and new walls were built where hallways had once extended through. Now, the HQ was six rooms, accessible only through the café and that same hidden exit that led into the forgotten tunnel nexus that had been built so long ago. The café entrance led to the bottom left room in the arrangement, which included a four room square, with two individual rooms at the top of it. One of the rooms was used as emergency housing for any thieves that needed hiding, and two had miscellaneous administrative uses. The final room was the Thieves’ Guild Council chambers, who were otherwise known as the Triad. The previous room was the waiting room to the Triad’s chamber, also occupied by their assistant and bodyguard Redrick Duff. It was sparsely decorated, like the rest of Guild HQ, and only had a few chairs for those waiting to see the Triad, and a desk behind which Duff sat. He himself was a brutal assassin, a deadly killer the likes of which would have been written in legend, had anyone known of his existence. His job description had always included undetectable killings, and only on a job or two gone wrong had the police report not said ‘accident,’ ‘suicide,’ or the name of some other coincidentally deceased individual. Redrick had gotten older, but he was still the effective killer he used to be. He was the only bodyguard the Triad needed, and the only one they used. Of course, the three men who led the Guild were dangerous enough in their own right, that a bodyguard could have easily been considered a redundancy.

It was in this room, facing Redrick’s desk, that the boys found themselves after their trek into Guild headquarters. Redrick was at the moment not there, which could only mean that he was with the Triad in the last room. Another individual, a Twi’lek thief that the boys had never seen before, already sat in one of the waiting chairs, looking bored and annoyed. He had clearly been waiting for some time, and he was getting tired of it. Ignoring him, Nezzie walked up to the door into the Triad’s chambers and reached for it. Deranz’ hand restrained him before he got his arm halfway up,

“Protocol,” Deranz said, “We have to remember protocol. Just because we’re not in a good mood doesn’t mean we can ignore it, at least not yet. We’re here to see the Triad and see what their plans are… barging in on them is probably not a good first step towards disclosure. We can wait until Redrick comes out, and then we’ll go in.”

Nezzie sighed but stepped back, standing in a stolid pose with his arms crossed, breathing little, and almost resembling a statue. Deranz wasn’t as still, but he didn’t sit down either.

“Excuse me,” came the Twi’lek’s voice from the back of the room, “You’re going to have to wait a bit longer than that. I was here first and as such am next for an audience with the Triad, assuming anyone will actually let you in.”

Deranz gave the thief a cold eye and looked away, clearly ignoring him. Nezzie didn’t even shift a centimeter, and this clearly annoyed the thief. He decided to push his train of thought further,

“Who even let you kids in here?” he mused, “It’s good that you didn’t just barge in, you probably would’ve been dead by now. I hope you’re ready for a long wait, because I’ve been here for quite some time. Triad’s awful busy to be seeing kids.”

This time it was Deranz who nearly snapped, breaking his composure and taking a step towards the Twi’lek. This time it was Nezzie’s hand that restrained his friend. Nezzie spoke, voice monotonous, eyes on the door and still facing away from the Twi’lek,

“Are you new here?” he asked, “Or have you just not been around for a few years?”

“I’ve been away some years, working in the Core,” the thief replied haughtily, “And it’s a good thing you restrained your monkey friend, I wouldn’t have wanted to kill him.”

Nezeliezer half-turned his face to the Twi’lek, so that the creature could see him in profile, “You are lucky then, brother,” he said sarcastically with the Guild honorary, “That I restrained my friend from tearing your ignorant limbs from your pathetic body. You have picked a bad day to act like a diseased voornt, and it is only by the virtue of our magnanimous patience that you remain alive. My personal consolation is that you will be sitting out here for a very long time, wondering just why the frell two ‘kids’ are so much more important than you that their sudden appearance was honored quicker than your long-expected appointment.”

The Twi’lek, blue in the face, jumped up from his seat with his mouth open, ready to explode on the boys, but just as he did, the door to the Triad’s chambers opened.

“Tillarius El’kay?” came Redrick’s voice before he even stepped into the room, “The Triad will see you no…” Redrick cut off as he stepped into the waiting room. Tillarius, the Twi’lek thief, had altered his expression from outraged to smug, and was about to begin telling Redrick how insolent and close to death these two kids had come. He took a step forward, but Redrick was no longer looking at him.

“Deranz, Nezeliezer,” the old killer began, “I’m glad you two are here, although we were expecting you a bit later.”

“What can we say,” Nezeliezer said dryly, “When something like this happens, I guess we just react quicker than usual.”

“Of course,” Duff said, “I’m very sorry about Telfass. The Triad’s been waiting to talk with you, come on in.” With a glance over at the amazed and outraged Tillarius, Redrick simply said without apology, “You’ll have to wait a bit longer, the Triad will see you when they can,” and opened the door for the boys, who proceeded to enter the chamber. Redrick followed, and the door slammed on a very confused and stunned Twi’lek.
'And So it Goes'
Posts: 214
Joined: Sun Feb 16, 2003 1:07 pm

Post by Jack_Sigma »

Inside the round audience chamber, the young thieves Deranz and Nezeliezer found themselves face to face with the infamous Triad of the Vuun Thieves Guild. The beings occupying the three large chairs spread equidistantly around the back half of the room had changed over the centuries, but the positions retained their prestige and feared power. The three beings currently occupying the seats were a human, a Shistavaanen Wolfman, and a humanoid of odd appearance with silver patterned blue skin. While the combination could have easily served as the introduction to some barroom joke, there was nothing laughable about the three individuals facing Deranz and Nezeliezer. Gerz “Desolation” Byllius had once been an infantry grunt. The wars he had fought in had all been meaningless, and by now, a few decades removed, neither the victors nor conquered remained to be remembered by history. He had served a Warlord, a Governor, various politicians, and then, he had tired of it. Hundreds of deaths to his name, having become extremely skilled and a highly valuable commodity, “Desolation” killed whoever had been commanding the army he had been serving at the time, and ran away to Vuun. There, he had been accepted into the Vuun Thieves Guild as a potential asset, and had since then proven himself time and time over. He had risen to his position in the Triad by appointment of the previous member of his Seat, accepted and agreed upon by the other two members as well.

The Shistavaanen Wolfman was an anomaly on Rayje, and in the Aerit system. While these solitary and thoroughly trained hunters found their way out to the farthest reaches of space as scouts, few stayed in a single place for any extended period of time. Verok too had been Hunting some prey in the Aerit system when he had met a member of the Vuun Guild. Curious, the warrior paid the Guild a visit, and began learning the ways of stealth. A learner with a voracious appetite for knowledge, the beast refused to leave until he had mastered the arts of deception and thievery, and years later, when he had accomplished his goals, he had realized he had nowhere else to go. Vuun became his home base, and his journeys took him deeper into the Rim than most men dared to go. He had seen things that were impossible to comprehend without having experienced them, and even then were mind-blowing given too much thought. One day though, it had all changed, and Vorak arrived from his latest exploration and Hunt with his fierce red eyes dimmed. To those who knew him, it had almost seemed like he had lost his fire, but those that knew him well could look into those eyes, and realize that their depth had increased hundredfold. The light was dimmer because it was farther away, and Vorak’s calm wisdom reflected this newfound attitude and knowledge. He was still a Wolfman, and still given to outbursts of animal passion, but he had never left the Aerit system after that trip, and never felt the need.

The last being was of an unknown race, or at least would not answer any questions about his origins. He was humanoid, but had only four slender and adroit fingers on each hand, as well being more flexible than most of the other humanoids. His skin was of a base blue, but strange patterns covered any exposed section of his body like runes. They were not tattoos, or at least did not seem that way, but looked to be the being’s natural skin coloration. Swirling shapes emerged from that blue sea, and it was never a good idea to concentrate on them for too long, because not only could one lose themselves in the designs, it would for some reason leave the viewer with a terrible headache and sense of chaos. Bo’el Abbra, as the being called himself, had walked into Vuun one day decades ago and set up shop. No one could tell where he had come from, nor what ship he had arrived on, but he had set up shop in the open, and proceeded to take anything and everything he wanted from the populace. At first, he had rejected Guild attempts to add him to their fold. He had had no interest in the Guild, and considered it a fool’s sanctuary. Then one day he was approached by a wise and wizened old man, one of the now-former members of the Triad. The old master spent a three days in solitary isolation with Bo’el, day and night, and was not seen to emerge from the other’s small home. It was unknown if the old master had had food, it was unknown if he had water, but at the end of three days and three nights, the man walked out of the house with Bo’el at his heels, and the strange being served as his companion and bodyguard until his death sometime later. Bo’el had taken that master’s place on the Triad, and now served the Guild as faithfully and diligently as he had served that little old man.

Now, these three disparate yet unified beings faced two distraught teenage boys, with much more power than boys of their age should have had or had access to. The boys did nothing outwardly to reveal their pain, but the three beings knew, because it was their job to know, and because their experience allowed them to feel things that others couldn’t. The one thing that the Triad couldn’t sense in the boys though, was fear. Anger, anguish, depression, sorrow, and a deep, low, furious heat, ready to burst, but no fear.

“Friends,” Bo’al began, his voice barely a whisper, but somehow carrying through the room and vibrating in the boys’ heads, “We are all saddened by the loss of one of our oldest faithful. But we understand you are not here to hear condolences, nor are you inclined to do so. I must offer them regardless though, because Telfass Dire was a great man, and the passage of such men deserves recognition.”

“Thank you, Master,” the boys intoned as one.

“Brothers,” Gerz took up the conversation, “We have been expecting you, because we know you have questions. Ask, and we will answer honestly, in deference to your situation, but know that we act for the future of the Guild, and that while you may not like some of the answers you hear, we expect due respect to be shown regardless. Is this understood?”

“Of course, Master,” came the chorus of voices.

“Now then,” Vorak growled, “What do you want to know?”

“Masters,” Deranz started, sweeping his gaze across the three Triad members, “We visiting Telfass yesterday in his cell, and he told us something that made a lot of sense. We know that his arrest was a move by the Vuun Council, a power play against the Guild, to incite you to calm your advances and tone back some of your activities. As of yesterday, we thought that the show-trial they were planning to stage was the move they had made, but now, we’re fairly certain that the death of Telfass was just the latter part of the same move. They had to remove him from his home to effectively trap him, and then sent in mercenaries, or guards, or just a group of armed men to kill Telfass. The Council has made its play, we wanted to know what your move was.”

Gerz nodded, seemingly expecting this very question, “Well first, Brothers, it must be noted that the assault on Telfass was carried out by an independent group, rogue Council officers with either a personal grudge or on someone’s payroll. Second, within hours of the assassination, the Vuun Council contacted us indirectly and disavowed any knowledge of, or participation in this act. In fact, they tipped us off as to a possible location where the remnants of the rogue group could be hiding, and informed us that if their men got to them before we did, they would hold the survivors for us, to dole out justice anyway we like.”

“Oh, frell,” Nezzie exclaimed, “Please tell me you got there before they did..?”

Vorak raised a bushy eyebrow and Nezzie’s carriage stooped, abashed, but Vorak continued on with what he was going to say, “We are not amateurs Foundling, nor inept at this game. We had a man in the area as it was, and as soon as the Council narrowed down our search a bit, we devoted some more resources to the Hunt. We got there first, but unfortunately, of the eight men that we found at the safe-house, only three survived.”

“But Masters,” Deranz half-pleaded, “With all due respect, we all know that this is complete trash, and they are simply trying to spoon-feed us an easy solution to this situation. This was no rogue group, and it wasn’t unsanctioned… surely you all agree?”

“Well,” came Bo’al’s haunting whisper again, “We still have no proof of any of this, but we do have three men that could provide us with some insight into the situation, though I warn you as Master Gerz did that little of what they say will probably change our decision.”

“So then what is your move?” Nezzie prompted.

“We will determine that after we’ve talked to the prisoners, I think,” Gerz replied, “As you both know, the more information, the better when planning a course of action, right? We will take care of this now, give us an hour and come back and we will finish this discussion.”

“Wait,” Deranz butt in, and then instantly looked sheepish for a split-second, “If you’re interrogating them, can we have first crack? I mean, if they’re nearby, I’m sure they’re in the housing room right now, so they’ll be here in seconds when we so desire. Give us half the time you wanted, give us a half hour to try, and then we shall turn them over to you for dissemination. I promise we’ll get the information we want,” Deranz said, and his already deep voice dropped a few more octaves, “I promise.

ooc:/ Wanted to write more but literally falling asleep at the keyboard, to that extent, if last paragraph or two don't make sense, will check tomorrow... oh yeah, and post 100... hoorah, it only took... 2+ years? Doh.. :P
'And So it Goes'
Posts: 214
Joined: Sun Feb 16, 2003 1:07 pm

Post by Jack_Sigma »

“In fact,” Nezeliezer added, “How about we just bring them in here and you all will be present while we question them? That way, you will hear everything they say same as we do, and could… supervise… the interrogation. Just give us free reign for a short while, because this really shouldn’t take much longer than that.”

“I understand your anger,” Bo’al intoned, “But do not think you need to do this to get back at the men that killed Telfass. One way or another, once we have extracted the necessary information from them, they will be given to you both as a gift, to do with as you please. At the point you can take out any aggression you so choose to on them, but realize that you cannot kill them during the interrogation.”

“Do you still wish to do this?” Vorak asked.

The boys nodded, and the Triad motioned for them to step back, they did, and as they did so, a faint shimmer materialized in the middle of the room, stretching from the floor to the ceiling. This was the Triad’s personal privacy curtain, an electromagnetic shield that they brought up when they wanted to deliberate without those sharing the chamber’s hearing what they said. The shield dampened all sound, and the slight shimmer allowed visibility to the other side of the room, but slightly blurred minute motions, like a flexing hand, the fingers of which would blur together somewhat. This combated the problem of lip-reading as well as solving the simple question of sound deprivation. Less than a minute later, the shimmer disappeared, and the Triad turned back to the boys.

Instead of addressing the boys though, Gerz looked towards Redrick Duff, “Redrick, bring the prisoners in here please?” Redrick nodded and left the room. Outside, the boys could here the annoying voice of the Twi’lek pipe up, but didn’t hear Redrick’s response as the door slammed shut.

He looked back to the boys, “We have considered your request. You have fifteen minutes to ask some initial questions, and then we will take the reigns. We will sit back and say nothing while you proceed, but we will allow you to observe while we do so, rather than making you wait outside. There is to be no killing, and no brain damage. Nothing that could feasibly harm their memory or speaking ability. Other than that, do as you will, there is no judgment here.”

The boys thanked the Triad, and a short time later, three men were brought into the room. All were human, and all were very disheveled, their dirtied and tussled hair hanging limply over their eyes and ears, stuck to them with sweat. Soot and dust covered their faces, and one of them walked with a limp. All wore loose, drab grey clothes, and one of them was significantly larger in both height and musculature than the other two. Of the two smaller men, one was young, while the other seemed to be the oldest of the group, with flecks of gray at his temples. It was to the eyes though that Deranz and Nezeliezer looked, having examined the external qualities of their prisoners. The youngest was scared, the biggest defiant, and the oldest… the oldest was calm and controlled; physically he looked to be the weakest, but mentally, he would probably be difficult to crack. Pain would not be enough with that one, as he clearly had too much pride for such base tactics. The boys thought they may have to reason with him.

The Triad by that moment had taken their Seats and looked on with an air of apparent indifference. The prisoners were brought in facing the Triad, and were line up side by side in the center of the room, as Deranz and Nezeliezer had been a moment before. The Triad said nothing, but Redrick suddenly spun the first man around to face the boys who were at the back of the room, and then kicked the back of his leg, buckling the man to his knees. The same thing was done with the other two, and the three men faced Deranz and Nezeliezer from their knees, hands bound behind them.

The two boys whispered back and forth for a minute, clearly ignoring the men on the ground, letting them stew in their uncertainty. The whispers weren’t just for show though; the boys were sure they had been right earlier, and that only a few of the men in the group had known the full scope of the orders. A few young and naïve Vuun guards could probably be convinced that this was a good idea, but at least a quarter of the sixteen men who went in probably had full knowledge of who backed the operation. To that extent, it was pretty certain that the youngest in the group knew nothing, and was therefore a good volunteer to demonstrate to the other two what pain they would face. The larger man could use a more violent lesson as well, but they would have to convince him that the situation was helpless. The older one… well, the boys would get there when they got there. Finally done, Deranz stepped back and Nezeliezer stepped forward to confront the prisoners. He looked each in the eye and then looked up with an air of indifference and started pacing in front of the three.

“Prisoners, Vuun Guards, Council stooges,” Nezeliezer began, his voice sharp and penetrating, and his gaze above the men’s heads, “Whatever you would like to be referred to, I am here today to inform you of a single truth.” Nezeliezer stopped for a second and looked at the men, “You are right now the living dead.” He resumed his pacing, indifferent once more, “There is no pardon possible, there are no plea deals, there is no negotiation. You have all screwed up beyond compare, and for that you will die. Reconcile yourselves with that simple fact and this process will be easier on you, because once you understand that there is no hope, then there is no reason to prolong your pain and suffering in this plane of existence. We want to know a few things. Those of you that answer our questions quickly, honestly, and completely will received the grand prize of the day: a speedy, easy and mostly painless death. Those that don’t comply will endure endless hours of painful torture. Also know,” and here, Nezeliezer’s sharp tone gained a wicked edge, revealing his true feelings at the moment, “that you worthless Ploonts killed someone dear to us. Telfass Dire was a close friend, and I personally want nothing more than to break every bone in each of your bodies, and then flay the skin off the remains. And then really get to work.”

“Lucky for you,” he continued, “There is really only one question, and we already know the answer to it, but we want confirmation, and we want details. Now then,” Nezeliezer stopped and faced the prisoners, “Who ordered you to kill Telfass Dire?”

The larger man laughed out loud, “Who’s going to torture us? You kids? Frell, I don’t give a flying sith if Telfass was your mother, you’re just a bunch of ignorant brats. And if you think I’m telling you anything, you’re insane to boot. How bout this, you let me go now, and I won’t kill you when I make my way out of here. I’ll just main you a bit.”

The younger guard, who was still at least five or six years the boys’ elder, became emboldened by this outburst of defiant courage, “Yeah!” he chimed in, “Look at you kid, you look like you were in grade school only a few years ago. Stop wasting our time trying to be intimidating, we’ve got nothing to say to you.”

From his position a few feet behind Nezeliezer, Deranz suddenly stepped forward with his right foot, and took two quick, large strides so he was in front of the young guard. Still in stride, Deranz raised his right boot high in the air, and brought it crashing down with all his strength on the young guard’s right shoulder. A sickening crunch echoed via the room’s acoustics as the man’s collarbone and shoulder shattered, and tendons and ligaments tore. The blow was followed instantly by a blood-curdling shriek of pain, and the guard flew backwards to the ground, filling the room with his screams. His arms still bound behind him, blood seeped through his coat at his shoulder where shattered bone had probably pierced skin, and his arm hung slack, and visibly at least an inch lower than it had before. A few seconds later the shrieks tapered off, as the pain overwhelmed the guard and he lost consciousness.

“Redrick,” Deranz addressed the Triad’s assistant, “Would you mind getting someone in here to patch up the bleeding? We still have work to do with this one, and we want him awake for it.”

The other made a sign to show that he understood, and left the room again. As the door opened and closed this time, the boys didn’t hear a peep from the Twi’lek waiting outside. It seemed that maybe they had gotten loud enough to be heard outside the chamber.

The older man still said nothing, but the large man’s rage burst over, “Frelling BRATS! You think so sithin much of yerselves because our arms are bound, but you ain’t nothing! I swear, if I get out of these bindings, I will tear your living heart out and choke you to death with it. To the Abyss with all of you, pathetic worms. You’re like every other half-bit warden, weak and impotent until someone else grabs and ties up your enemy for you. Just another punk!” And the man spat, the spittle hitting Nezeliezer squarely in the cheek. Nezzie looked down at the man, and approached him slowly with measured steps. He calmly wiped the spittle from his face and then dried his hand on the man’s coat. He knelt down if front of the man, venom in his eyes, poison in his voice, which came out quiet, contained,

“You really feel that way?” It was almost a whisper, “You really want to do this? Is that what it’ll take for you to understand that it’s hopeless, being beaten down by a nineteen year old kid?” Nezzie’s voice ducked even quieter, so that it was almost impossible to hear, even for the man in front of him, “You want to be embarrassed like that?”

The man spit again, but this time, Nezzie spun away and the spittle harmlessly splattered on the floor behind him. He straightened up, and announced loudly, “This man believes that the only reason he must submit to me is because he is bound, and on his knees. I am going to teach him that he is on his knees because that is his proper place in the hierarchy in this chamber, and in the world. He is an underling, and a fool. Right now, I want his binding taken off. If he attacks anyone but me, Redrick, please shoot his leg off. If he kills me, no one in this room is to touch him, he will be escorted out of the Guild building a free man. Can I get the approval and accord of the Masters in this?”

Bo’al spoke up, “It shall be done, if your corpse litters our floor, this man will walk out of this building a free man. The Triad has spoken.”

“Well big boy,” Nezzie taunted the older and bigger guard, “How ‘bout it? You wanna prove to me that the only reason you’re there and I’m here is because you’ve got cuffs on? You heard the Triad, you kill me, you’re free. Here’s that bit of hope you wanted. All you have to do is kill me. Simple, right? A nineteen year old kid. A punk, a pathetic worm. You up for it?”

Anger boiled and bubbled in the man, ready to spill over. Nezeliezer motioned to Redrick, and the assassin stepped forward and undid the large guard’s cuffs. Meanwhile, through all of this, the older guard remained on his knees and quiet, observing.

The second the cuffs were off, the guard sprang up and flew forward, momentum carrying him into the standing Nezeliezer, who hadn’t even bothered to move yet. An animal scream of rage erupted from the man as he plowed into Nezzie, ready to rip his flesh apart. For some reason though, things didn’t go exactly as the guard had expected. He definitely hit Nezzie, but the boy didn’t fly to the ground in a heap like the guard had planned. Instead, the boy moved faster than the guard had thought possible. As soon as contact was initiated, the boy slithered out of his grasp and spun out, taking a hold of his left arm in the process. As momentum still carried the guard forward, Nezeliezer held the man’s arm out straight behind him and brought his left palm up into the guard’s elbow. The strike caved the man’s elbow the wrong way and the roar of feral rage became a roar of confusion and pain as his arm bent in a direction that nature had never intended. Not done yet, Nezzie jabbed the man in the right kidney from behind, and grabbed his hair, about to slam him face-first into the wall.

“Nezeliezer,” came Deranz’ stern reproach, “No brain damage, not yet at least, and you don’t know what that could do.”

Nezzie contained himself and instead grabbed the anguished guard by his shattered elbow and threw him back on the ground, “Sorry about that Redrick, I hope you can still make the binders fit with his arm sticking out that way, although a little bit of pain won’t matter.”

Redrick picked the man back up to his knees and replaced the binders. The guard screamed again as they were put on, and then subsided, hunched forward on his knees, sweating profusely and breathing heavily.

Nezeliezer stepped back to calm down for a minute, and Deranz stepped forward, now facing the only unharmed guard left. The older one, the one they suspected knew, “You know what’s facing you, don’t you? What we did to your companions was purely out of anger, we can do so much more, and do it much more efficiently when we’re calm. I’m pretty sure you know the answer to our question, and you must realize that you’re going to die soon one way or another. No one is coming for you. You were sold out by the Vuun Council; it was they who contacted us about your whereabouts, to avoid the blame that could fall on them for ordering Telfass’ death, along with the consequences. You were used, nothing but a pawn, used and thrown away so that the bigwigs can profit. And for that, you will be endlessly tortured, endlessly tormented. It hurts a lot to break a bone, doesn’t it? It hurts a lot more to break each one individually. The skin is a sensitive organ too, with a lot of pain receptors, and my friends there is a magician with a knife. Modern technology is amazing, what we can keep you alive through, while we wait for the answer to this simple question. The end result will be the same, no matter what happens, or which path you take to get there… death awaits you, whether beaten and brutalized, or as you are, unharmed and ready to face it. Why protect those that sold you out?”

“I know who you are,” the older guard said suddenly, “I had heard down the rumor vine something about Telfass training a successor, or successors. The great master thief’s protégés, but everything I heard was veiled, or ridiculous. No one really knew what was going on, and after we killed him, I kinda figured it had never been true. You’re them though, aren’t you? Telfass’ students?”

“Well,” Deranz said, “At least now you know the reason that you are already dead, and it is only a matter of pain. I ask you again, who ordered the death of Telfass?”

The other shook his head, “I don’t really know, but if I tell you what I do know, can you grant me a few hours to get ready for death? I just want to prepare myself.”

“You realize escape from here is impossible, right?” Deranz asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Yes, I do, but it should be every man’s right to meet death on his own grounds. If I answer you, I want access to that right,” the guard replied.

Deranz looked back at Nezzie, and the other shrugged. Deranz sighed, “Fine, you can have two hours, and then we’ll make it quick and painless.”

“By the way,” Nezzie said from his spot at the back of the chamber, where he was leaning against the wall, “You… big man, just because he talks doesn’t mean we won’t torture your brains out until we’ve heard anything and everything you have to say. What he tells us is independent from what you say, and you better think of something he doesn’t mention, because we don’t like redundancy.”

The big man looked up through his pain, but whereas defiance had once been predominant in his features, now there was just franticness. He looked like a terrified, caged animal, searching every which way for an escape route and finding none. In truth, it wasn’t just Nezeliezer’s speed and quick humiliation of the guard that had gotten him so twisted inside. He had heard what his compatriot said about these boys being Telfass’ protégés. He too had heard some rumors about them, but more than anything else, in his simple mind, the overbearing image of Telfass Dire now associated itself with these two kids in front of him. Gone was the objective sight of two nineteen year old boys, replaced by the biased vision of young demon-spawn. This man had seen Telfass Dire kill eight men after being caught in his prison cell, in a small box, and this very image now predominated his opinion of the boys. With the older guard’s words, defiance had faded, and the muscled man understood that there really was no hope.

“P-please,” he stammered, “I’ll talk too, I’ll tell you anything you want, just let me live.”

From his spot in front of the older guard Deranz backhanded the man across the face, “Get a hold of yourself, and act like a man. I don’t like begging, and it’s not going to help you at all, you’ll both get a chance to tell us what you know, and your little friend too, when he wakes up.”

“Fine, then I want my two hours, just like him,” the man said, a little stronger of voice, sounding less like he was going to break into tears.

“Bantha dung,” Nezzie spat, “You don’t get vrelt, you’ve already tried to take me down, and you’ve been very uncooperative. All you get is to not have my knife trace intricate patterns across your face. And not to have Deranz ensure that you can never walk again. I’m tired of waiting, enough of the posturing, you,” he said pointing to the older guard, “spill your guts, and make it good. Remember, full and complete.”

“Right,” the guard said, licking his lips, “Well, like I said, I don’t know that much. I’m a Captain in the Vuun Security Forces, and I heard just like everyone else about Telfass’ arrest… that is I saw it on the morning news. I wasn’t scheduled to be on duty anywhere near the area that day, nor was I in the detail that arrested him. But although the city was cheering it up, there were a lot of questions running around Security Headquarters. First and foremost, as a Captain, I was hearing a lot of word around the ranked officers that this was all an elaborate hoax, or at least some mistake. Word was going around that Telfass had been arrested too soon, that they didn’t actually have enough evidence to convict him. Word was going around that this whole episode was going to turn out to be a huge embarrassment for the Vuun Council, that it’d all blow up in their face and that Dire would go free.”

“I was visited by one of the other Captains that night, the one in charge of the duty watch for the Courthouse. He said he had a great opportunity for me, for us, but he needed my help. Word was going around, this time much more quietly, that the Council regretted its mistake, and wished that it would just go away, without any of the focus being on the Council itself. A couple of higher-ups in the organization had decided that this was some kind of hint, and they had contacted him about an interesting possibility. If a couple of prodigious individuals wanted to these higher-ups a favor, and by implication help out the Council itself, they could stage an independent venture. Pretend that they were rogue guards and walk in, take out Telfass for them. The guy said he’d help out, he could alter the duty roster, make it easy for us to sneak in, but he needed my help to gather a group of around twenty guys to fill up the roster, and take out Dire. He said it’d be good to pose the idea like it was our own, so that the less people that knew certain higher-ups were involved, the better. Plus, they didn’t want anything reflecting on the Council, since it wasn’t their idea in the first place. It didn’t seem like a bad idea to me, and I said I’d do it. I was hoping for a promotion, maybe get some money out of the deal, or at least some fame around the office… in retrospect, I guess it turned out quite otherwise,” he finished wistfully.

“So the Council itself wasn’t involved?” Deranz asked skeptically.

“Not that I know of,” the guard replied, “Far as I was told it was by implication only, and no direct orders were given. I guess that made it easier for them to sell us out, those frelling bastards. I got no reason to not tell you anything, I don’t got anything to go back to anyway.”

“And that’s it?” Nezzie popped in.

“Yeah, that’s it,” the guard replied.

“Wait, I know something too,” the other one popped in, suddenly eager to help out, “I’m pretty sure the Council had something to do with it. I got approached by one of the Captains, said he’d gotten an order from above for some extra muscle for a “situation” that had to be taken care of. I wanted to know what kind of order and where from, and the guy said it came from the highest authority. That had to mean the Council, there’s no higher authority in Vuun. He said that they planned it this way, that this was just the end of the plan. Telfass was never meant to go to jail, Telfass had been arrested to die, and we were just finishing up the mission. He told me to gather a few guys too, but not tell any of them so that we could keep everything secret.”

“So it was a direct order from the Council? Or did the guy just say ‘highest authority’? These little distinctions mean a whole lot,” Nezzie said expectantly.

“I… I don’t know, he just said ‘highest authority,’” the guard replied, “I swear that’s all I know, I swear… I… I can tell you how Telfass died, if you want to know… he…”

Deranz pulled his blaster and with a quick squeeze took the man in the head. The chamber was silent, and Deranz just looked around, smoking gun still extended forward.

“I believed him,” he shrugged, and reholstered the blaster, “I accept your judgment if I was wrong.”

Bo’al stood and approached the boys and remaining two prisoners. The younger one was still unconscious, although Redrick had come back and bandaged his shoulder a few minutes earlier. The older one was still on his knees, his back to Bo’al.

“That is alright, Deranz,” Bo’al projected through that dark and mysterious whisper of his, “I believed him as well, and your reaction is almost understandable given his comments. In the current situation, we will excuse your lapse in judgment.”

Deranz nodded and bowed to the Master, who came to a point where he was standing right behind the older guard,

“This one though,” the whisper became foreboding, “This one I do not believe.”

In a flash, Bo’al grabbed the man’s head, his left hand over the man’s nose and mouth, pulling his eyes open from the bottom with his thumb and forefinger, while his right covered the top of the guard’s face and his eyes, the top of the palm and forefinger of that hand keeping his eyes open from above. Bo’al didn’t tighten his grip though, and allowed enough light through for the man to be forced to stare at the intricate silver patterns on the palm of his right hand. He lowered his head to be right next to the man’s ear, and began whispering into it, lowly, intensely. Deranz and Nezeliezer couldn’t hear what he was saying, but an uncomfortable faint buzz took up residence in the back of their heads, like an annoying itch that they just couldn’t reach. The guard meanwhile let out a low moan.

The single moan turned into an extended one, and as Bo’al’s lips moved quicker and quicker, the extended moan grew in volume, then pitch, soon turned to an all out squeal of agony. Amazingly, the man didn’t thrash around or move even an inch, it was as if his body was in a trance, but his very soul was screaming out from the torture it was being subjected to. Through the screams, the man started speaking, words coming out one at a time, but forcefully, as if he couldn’t push them out fast enough,

“I… was told… that we had… orders… to kill… Telfass… Dire…” the guard squelched out, and took a ragged deep breath while never halting his unceasing scream. The unholy noise had woken the younger guard, who started moaning again in his own terrible pain and fear.

“The… orders… came from… the Council… directly from… the Council…” another breath.

“The order… was given by… Tyco… DOMENIX!!”

With the last word Bo’al stopped speaking and straightened almost faster than anyone in the room could blink, and the guard’s scream ended instantly. He breathed heavier than the large one had after he had gotten his arm broken, and his face and body were drenched with sweat. Bo’al looked to the boys,

“We are finished with them. They are yours,” he said.

Nezzie spoke out to the older guard, “Hey, look at me for a second,” he called out, and the still discombobulated guard looked up at the boy, blinking the confusion out of his eyes.

“Your answer wasn’t complete,” the boy said, and the guard suddenly found a blaster nestled in between his eyes. Nezeliezer gave him three seconds to gain his bearings, and the man finally realized what was going on, and that there was cold steel pressed against his forehead. His pupils shrunk with fear into pinpoints, and Nezzie rasped, “There go your two hours,” and pulled the trigger. The man’s head exploded backwards, leaving a mess on the floor, and his body wavered for a moment before following suit.

Deranz was attending to the young guard he had maimed earlier, “It’s unfortunate,” he said, “You were in the wrong place at the wrong time, but you’re still guilty.” He turned the boy around so that he was facing away, and pressed his blaster to the soft spot behind the boy’s ear at its base. Turning the power down so it wouldn’t make too much of a mess, Deranz spoke again, “I hope whatever deity you believe in grants you peace,” and pulled the trigger. Then he let go of the guard, and the last of the men who had been present at Telfass’ death met their own doom.

“Justice is Served,” Nezzie whispered.

“Death is Delivered,” Deranz murmured, and the boys snapped out of their momentary reverie to once more face the Triad, who had stood and occupied the center of the room once more. Three bodies and a lot of blood littered the floor, but no one paid them any heed.

“So,” Nezeliezer announced, “Now that we know for certain that the Council was responsible for the death of Telfass Dire, what do you plan to do about it.”

“And it couldn’t have just been Tyco Domenix,” Deranz added, “We know that the Council makes its decisions as a majority, so while he may have been the messenger, they all had to have voted for it.”

“Not all,” Gerz expressed thoughtfully, “Like you said boys, a majority is necessary, but the mention of Tyco Domenix gives me pause. He is the leader of the youth faction on the Council, and it seems their numbers are enough to command a majority. In fact, I doubt very much that the eldest member, Huin Detrin, had anything to do with it. He has always held the traditionalist stance towards the Guild, and most likely wouldn’t act to possibly move us to war.”

“Yes,” Vorak growled, “Detrin I doubt, but the rest could be swayed. It was a risky move, but Tyco seems to be pushing things to a head.”

Deranz and Nezeliezer waited expectantly for the proclamation of the Guild’s retaliation.

“So we must bide our time and watch, and entrench ourselves in this city so that there is nothing the Council could do to weed us out. It was a move well played, and unless we wish to start War, we have no recourse,” Bo’al sighed, the sigh rustling through Deranz ears and soul like the wind through dried leaves.

What!??” The only reason Nezzie blew up first was because Deranz couldn’t beat him to it, but his response was identical and right the heels of the first.

“You must be joking!” Deranz blazed with rage, “The Council moves to War, and you back down? Telfass Dire, your former advisor, frell your former member for all I know and suspect, is dead, and yet you’ll do nothing???”

“When did the Guild lose its backbone?” Nezzie wondered out loud, his sarcasm oozing from every pore.

“Remember yourselves boys!” came Gerz sharp rebuke, “You seem to be missing a lot of the nuances here, and you’re not really in a position to criticize us. We’re granting you leniency given the situation, but don’t test us…”

“The Council only made a move because we’ve been stretching the bounds of our territory,” Bo’al explained, “We’ve begun allowing attacks on black market convoys, and some of our members have gone as far as to disrupt some of the Vuun Council’s business. We’ve been expecting a reaction, but were waiting to see what form it would come in. Telfass’ arrest was exactly such a reaction, but his death was, while unfortunate, well thought out by the other side. While he was a former member and did advise us on occasion, any other suspicions you have as to his service will remain just that. The fact remains that he was no longer with the Guild, and had lived in the open for many years. His arrest was legal had the Council really had evidence, and any attempt he would’ve made to run would’ve been answerable with lethal force. His actual assassination was done in the same manner. ‘Rogue agents’ were used, and the Council gave them up to us first thing, offering any assistance they could. What we know to be true aside, we have only one possible recourse, and that is to take the Council to War. There is no other option, and War is an option we are not willing to accept at this point. It is our move, and we will not be the ones to start War between the two largest forces in this city. Chaos cost us business, and frankly, we won’t do it.”

“We represent the Vuun Thieves Guild,” Gerz continued, “one of the largest and best known Thieves Guilds in the galaxy, a conglomeration with numerous members in this city, and all across the known worlds. Our options are limited. If the Council initates War, we will react. Until then, we will take their message and entrench ourselves, and prepare for the day War may come.”

“So that’s it?” Deranz spoke bitterly, reflecting the same thing he had asked the prisoners moments ago. Only this time he felt like the prisoner.

“Yes Deranz,” Vorak said softly, “That’s it.”

“You’re not going to act?” Nezzie asked, disbelieving his eyes and ears for a second.

“Yes Nezeliezer,” Gerz affirmed, “We’re not going to act. We cannot, and will not.”

“Then what the frell do we need you for?” Nezeliezer nearly spat, and turned to Redrick, “Let us out please.”

Frustration contorted Deranz’ features for a second, and then he contained himself, “Thank you for seeing us, Masters, and goodbye, because I don’t know if we’ll have cause to ever meet again.”

The Triad said nothing more, and Redrick opened the door for the boys, who stalked out, the aura of a dark shadow sizzling from their every footstep. The Twi’lek waiting outside the Triad’s chambers took one look at them and shied back, any witty response that he had been saving for hours dead on his lips. They walked through the Guild headquarters, out through the café and the bar. Ever thief they passed’s words froze on their lips. Deranz and Nezeliezer were not to be spoken to, not be interrupted, because it was clear than any extra syllable would lead to unnecessary violence.

Outside on the street, Deranz suddenly stopped, and Nezzie had gone several steps before his noticed that his partner had been left behind.

“What?” he asked, annoyed at the delay.

“Did you notice that Gerz seemed to put an emphasis on those last two ‘we’s’?” Deranz voiced, deep in thought for a second.

“What are you babbling about? Speak straight,” Nezzie prompted again, still aggravated and unwilling to give even Deranz extra shrift.

We’re not going to do anything… We cannot… just the subtlest emphasis,” Deranz mused, “I didn’t really nontice it until now, but… Nezzie, they know as well as we do that now that both the Council and the Guild have played their hands, it’s our turn. Telfass knew, and the Triad knows we’re going to act. They can’t act against the Council, because they represent the entire Guild, but us..?”

Nezzie’s eyes lit up as Deranz spoke, and by the end they were blazing, “Deranz…” Nezzie licked his lips eagerly, struggling to speak in his excitement. Nezzie’s emotions were spilling over like they hadn’t done in over a decade, if ever, “Deranz… do you think that this could be what Telfass was thinking? Could he have forced our next move..? The Triad dropped hints Deranz… Tyco Domenix is leading a radical young faction of the Council which has gained majority, and is starting to sway almost everyone else. He’s bringing things to a head, but the Guild can’t act, because they don’t want to start a War. What about us, Deranz? We can act, frell, we knew we were going to anyway, but what if that’s it? Telfass knew it was time for the Council to exit stage left, but we couldn’t do it while he was alive because we would always be tied in with the Guild. Now that he’s dead, we have no ties. Deranz, we’re going to kill every sithin’ member of that frelling Council, and we’re going to do it purely for revenge, not as Guild operatives. Just like the Council disavowed knowledge of Telfass’ death because it was done by a rogue group, we… we will do this on our own. No Guild resources, no Guild aid.”

Deranz could barely contain himself, and he just repeated Nezzie’s words, “Kill every sithin’ member… every sithin’ one…” he looked up and his eyes locked together with Nezeliezers, the boys on the same frequency to unparalleled levels. They weren’t expecting it nor intending it, but somehow the words came out, driven by some inner force,

“Justice will be Served,” Nezeliezer announced.

“Death will be Delivered,” Deranz declared, “It must be so.”

*****
'And So it Goes'
Posts: 214
Joined: Sun Feb 16, 2003 1:07 pm

Post by Jack_Sigma »

Tyco Domenix sat at the head of the oval conference table deep in the heart of the Fortress of Vuun, looking over the stack of papers in front of him. The spot he occupied was that generally held by the eldest member of the Council, Huin Detrin. Tyco wasn’t sitting in Detrin’s chair though, because he had shifted the seat placements to put his own at the seat of honor at the table. By no means was this reshuffling of chairs a usual occurrence, and in fact Tyco’s actions were a grave insult to both Detrin and his authority on the Council. What Domenix did accounted to a slap in the face given the strict hierarchy of respect and deference generally maintained by the Black Market Hegemony. But Tyco Domenix didn’t care about the tremendous impropriety of his act, and he had done it entirely purposefully. The Council youth was asserting his dominance over the organization, and was ready to the Council under his reins. Huin Detrin and his old guard had become stagnant and were far behind the times, their old way of thinking a hinderance to the success of the Hegemony. Tyco saw profound things ahead for the Vuun Black Market. Too long had they existed as a simple business organization content to run a single city. The Market of Vuun had been stockpiling resources for years, and using them to either bribe the other Warlords of Vuun to not assault the city, or introduce conflict onto the rest of Rayje to keep potential attackers busy in their own affairs. Tyco was tired of them having to play the shifty politicians using deceit and bribery to defend themselves. There was no reason that the Market, which had successfully operated for over a century now, couldn’t be the predominant power on the planet Rayje. They made enough money to support such lofty aspirations, and there was so much manpower out there. Every single Warlord on the planet Rayje had an army, and the rest of the planet’s territory was divided into fiefdoms and holdings, the other major cities under control of one dictator or another. These armies ranged from the tens of thousands to the hundreds, with each one trying to carve a swath for itself, and the most strategic and resource-rich swaths were those most heavily combated, and generally by the largest armies. If the Market backed a single Warlord, quietly, tacitly, and without the others’ knowledge, they could slowly entice and help the man conquer the entire planet. Then, it was a simple matter of replacing the man with someone either on their payroll or one of the Council itself. Tyco was young, and it was so easy to see, fifteen years down the line, himself magnanimously taking on the role of overseeing the Market’s newfound troops. By the time that happened, he wouldn’t need the Council anymore, or rather he would be above the Council, who could handle administrative duties for him while he focused on the big picture. First Rayje, and then who knows how far it could go? Tyco’s face contorted in a slight smile, and the man reconcentrated his eyes on the paper in front of him, which was a news-outlet’s report on Telfass Dire’s assassination. No one in the city was too upset at the criminal’s death. Tyco’s smile disappeared as quickly as it had come, because there was still a large obstacle to his plan. He had made the right move in killing Telfass, but it was only step one. If the Market had any true desire to grow, they had to gain control of Vuun before they could even think of taking any further steps. The truth that the Vuun Thieves Guild could command as much respect, experienced manpower, and wealth as the Council galled Tyco, and infuriated him. That that fool Detrin had allowed the Market to share Vuun for so long instead of asserting its authority angered Domenix to no end. Well, that time was over, and Detrin had been rendered ineffectual. Tyco had his majority, and he would soon control the whole Council… it was time to take back the city of Vuun.

Reading on, Tyco amused himself by thinking of names for his organization. The Market Hegemony was nice and all, but he felt that the group needed a better name, something that wasn’t generic and could spread across the galaxy. Tyco had heard of organizatioins like ‘Eclipse,’ and the ‘Red Dragon Society,’ and marketing a group was always half the battle to selling it to people. It was a favored game of Tyco, and he had yet to fall upon something that really struck his as just right.

Gem names were good, so were fierce animals, maybe a combination of the two? And it was the ‘black’ market, so maybe black gems? Opals? Ebony? Maybe some kind of Black Diamond? The Diamond Kryat Group? The Opal Rancor Society? The Ebony Razorback Corporatioin? Tyco scowled, all those sounded more like Shockball teams than Black Market organizations. As he scrapped that idea and started along a different vein, who but Huin Detrin himself flew into the conference room, face red, fury overflowing. When he saw that Tyco was comfortably sitting in his place, Domenix was sure he was going to pop a blood vessel. Tyco grinned, because he had been looking forward to this part of the day.

“What the frell is going on, Domenix?” Huin bit out in a raspinig yell, “Who ordered Telfass Dire’s assassination? That wasn’t part of the arrangement!”

“I did,” Tyco said calmly, looking Detrin right in the eye and never blinking.

“And by what frelling authority did you make such an important decision without conferring with the Council??” Detrin stormed, “There are very grave repercussions for such foolish and ignorant actions Domenix, and your youth doesn’t excuse you from facing them!”

“I’ll have you know, Huin,” Tyco replied in an almost bored tone, “That the Council did indeed meet in an emergency session late last night. We realized that we didn’t have enough evidence to convict Telfass, and we decided that to save ourselves the embarassement of a show-trial that clearly wouldn’t work, we would kill Telfass. It’d send our point just as well. We tried to reach you,” and here Tyco shrugged with a sheepish grin, “But you weren’t available, and we had to act.”

Huin’s eyes narrowed, and his voice dropped down to a quiet and dangerously low tone, “And who’s we?”

“It was me, Wren, Voellir, and Uem,” Tyco said, “Goeve and Wiim we also couldn’t get in contact with. But you have nothing to worry about, Huin. The plan is still the same as before, and the Guild still won’t be able to react, because they’re not willing to initiate War. We already gave up the ‘renegades’ who killed Telfass, and I think that right now they should be getting picked up by the Guild, if they haven’t been already. They have no move.”

“Watch yourself, youngster,” Detrin growled, his demeanor now deathly calm, his voice the only part of him that betrayed his anger, “I won’t stand for such blatant insubordination of the rest of the Council. And get your sithin’ seat out of my spot,” the elder Council member spat.

Now, Tyco rose from the table, and his own expression darkened, “No, old man, you need to watch yourself. I’m taking this spot because I will lead the Council from now on. You’ve gotten old, you’ve gotten complacent, and you’re barely even necessary anymore. I already have the majority, and Goeve and Wiim will go along easy enough when they see how things stand. You’re not only barely necessary anymore, your years of incompetence are what have landed us in this situation, having to balance power and territory in Vuun with that thrice damned Thieves Guild. You will take your seat at meetings, and you will stay quiet, and will silently vote for whatever it is I frelling put on the table, because it’s just as easy for you to have an ‘accident’ as it is for anyone. You’re redundant, old man, and there a thousand hungry young razorfish in the top ranks who would kill for the chance to take your spot, and would do a much better job of it. You understand? So you keep your mouth shut and you can live out the rest of your fogey days in relative comfort and peace. Your time has past, Detrin, move out of the way.”

Tyco finished his rant and waited, expecting the outburst from Huin that he had been imagining would come, expecting the spectacular reaction that he had wanted to see. The old man trying to show he has fight left. Tyco was very disappointed when the reaction never came. Instead, Huin Detrin just stood there for a few moments, silent, eyes in a squint, two dark balls staring at Tyco from behind wrinkled lids.

“So that’s how it’s going to be?” Huin’s words were emotionless, and the only tonal difference in them was the lilt at the end that made it a question, rather than a statement.

“That’s how it’s going to be.” Tyco said, still upset that he hadn’t had the satisfaction of the show he had wanted, “Now get out of here. Someone will let you know when the next meeting is.”

Huin Detrin turned and slowly stalked out of the room. At the door, he turned and those dark balls skewered Tyco once more, “You just be careful not to underestimate the Guild’s capabilities, Domenix.”

Tyco laughed, “It’s been a pleasure Detrin, but I’ve got work to get back to.”

Detrin walked out, and Tyco’s laugh died on his lips as the door closed behind Huin. For a moment, when the man had turned and looked back, Domenix had seen a flash of that old danger and intelligence in the old Council-member’s eyes. And he had thought that Detrin had said something else at the end of his last sentence, but he could quite tell what. Tyco shrugged to himself and sighed, realizing that his fun for the day was done, and he had to get back to paperwork. Lost in the stacks in front of him once more, it was unfortunate for Tyco that he hadn’t heard Huin Detrin’s last words, because maybe they would have had some kind of effect. Or maybe not.

But as Detrin had finished his last sentence and turned back to the door, he had whispered two more words under his breath. “Or me,” he had whispered. Or me.

*****
'And So it Goes'
Posts: 214
Joined: Sun Feb 16, 2003 1:07 pm

Post by Jack_Sigma »

*****

“You know, I’m almost surprised how well Tyco’s plan worked.”

The words were those of Wren Del, and they were pronounced through a mouthful of top quality Andrellian Kiefir steak. The Vuun Council-member chewed the succulent meat thoroughly, a smidgen of its juices dribbling down the left side of his chin. Sighing with contentment at the impeccable taste of the steak, Wren didn’t even bother to wipe his chin before greedily digging into the red and slightly bloody meat again with his knife, carving a large chunk of it and shoving it into his hungrily waiting mouth. The fact that the steak cost as much as a speeder on Vuun probably made it all the more delicious to Del, who was far from a culinary connoisseur. Once upon a while ago Del had been a simple thug who had killed a lot of people and a significant number of his immediate superiors to get where he was now. For some reason though, Del’s place on the Council made the man feel like he should be more refined and sophisticated. It had initially been a result of the influence of the older council members, who had been greater in number when Del had joined the Council. He was the oldest of the younger group, but when he had been new to the Hegemony, the suave and cool Huin Detrin and Lord Goeve had seemed like the men to emulate because of their intelligence and poise. In truth, Del was happy that Tyco Domenix had arrived on the Council and had started his revolution. Del was more comfortable with Tyco’s tactics, and while he was intelligent enough and vicious enough to get to the Council, he had never been a leader. With Tyco, he got the brutal fix he needed and could finally stop pretending to be an intellectual. It would be some time though, before Wren realized that he didn’t know squat about steak.

The man Del was talking to across the table in the dining room of the Veritian Delight, a very high class Vuun restaurant, was staring out of the gigantic plastisteel window that made up one wall of the restaurant. Voellier Coaff was admiring the view of the city of Vuun that was visible through the massive window, its irregular spires and polluted skies affording him some sort of comfort. Wren was completely right, he realized with some surprise himself: a week had now passed since the death of Telfass Dire, and the city of Vuun had been deathly quiet. Not only had the Guild not retaliated for the death of one of their prominent figures, they had been more passive in the past week than they had been in months. There hadn’t been a single raid of a Market convoy, nor a single theft from any major Market client. In fact, a deathly calm had seemed to descend upon the entire city, and all the major criminal factions walking its streets were staying underground and not making a sound. It was almost eerie, and Voellir’s assassin’s intuition told him that something big was going to go down, but he couldn’t possibly imagine what.

Tyco’s plan had worked on another level as well, because Huin Detrin had been as quiet as the city of Vuun in the past week. Detrin had approached Goeve and Erasten Wiim early after Tyco’s pronunciation to find out where they stood, and he had clearly been disabused of any notions he had had of their retaining any allegiance to him. Both had capitulated to Tyco’s demands, and now deferred to the younger man in his planning, speaking to offer advice or suggestions. Detrin hadn’t said a word at Council meetings for the entire past week, other to than to vote in accordance with whatever Tyco proposed. He just sat there with a dull look in his eye, in his new spot, formerly the one occupied by Tyco as the youngest member of the Council. The only time his eyes flashed at all was when Goeve and Wiim made suggestions to Tyco, speaking softly and casting sheepish glances towards Huin as they did so. Even though, it was only a brief reaction, and gone as if it had never been within an instant. Tyco really had won.

“I guess I’m a bit surprised myself,” Voelir replied, looking away from the magnificent window view to the rest of the restaurant. The place was pretty full, except for the raised area where Voelir and Wren now dined. It was one of Vuun’s best known and most expensive restaurants, and they catered to all the richest businessmen and biggest players on the Vuun scene. The restaurant generally consisted of the main dining floor, and a raised platform at the back of the room near the large window. The platform was raised only about two feet off the ground, and was accessible by three steps at its center point. A short fence ran along the perimeter of the entire platform, blocking the ‘VIP’ area off from the rest of the dining hall, while allowing the rest of the restaurant’s patrons to see just how rich and powerful the VIP guests were. While the Council members were eating dinner, the rest of the raised area was filled with their bodyguards, six highly trained killers, the premiere members of the Vuun Security Force, guarding each individual. During dinner, the guards stood in a wide semi-circle around the Council-members at the edge of the raised platform, giving them plenty of space and privacy to eat and talk, while ensuring that they could see and keep track of everyone in the restaurant. The guards were of course ready to shoot anyone who made sudden motions, but they had orders to be very discriminate in the Veritian Delight, because of the prominence and monetary value of many of the restaurant’s clientele. They were all aligned towards the eating area of the restaurant because there was no need to guard the window: it was doubly reinforced plastisteel, the kind that starship cockpits were made of. The window had been designed to deter starship blasters for a few seconds while the clientele made their escape, so the guards weren’t worried about threats from that direction.

“Tyco’s turned out to be a fairly good strategist, and you have to love the way he shut up that pompous Detrin,” Del added with a laugh, spittle from his half-chewed meat landing halfway across the table. Voelir refrained from reminding Del of his own initial emulation of the eldest Council-member, and returned to picking at his food. He had been uneasy all week, but he couldn’t for all the pain in the Abyss figure out why. As he and Del continued their conversation, they noticed a commotion at the stairs to their platform. Several of their guards had converged to prevent sight and access to the politicians to some newcomer, who was arguing vehemently with the guards. The two Councilmen could see the head of the newcomer almost over the guards’ heads, as he nearly stuck out even with the two foot advantage in height the guards had from their position. Voelir thought he caught the words ‘…urgent business…’ and ‘…deal of the century…’ but he couldn’t be sure. Probably just another investor trying to get rich by pitching his ideas to the city’s leadership. Probably not even rich, just dressed up with all of his remaining money to try to get through to the Council that way. Voelir didn’t care, this sort of thing happened all the time during his and Wren’s weekly dinners, and the guards always took care of it. As Voelir turned back to Wren and tried to search his brain for the other’s last comment, the world suddenly turned upside down.

With a thunderous *BOOM*, something massive exploded outside the full-sized window to the Councilman’s right side. A tremendous flash of light blinded Voelir and the sound of cracking plastisteel echoed in his ears. He could hear the screams of his guards as they adjusted their visors to the light and reoriented to face the new threat. He thought he heard a ‘Get down!’ from one of his commandos, but with the raucous noise in his ear, accompanied by the frenzied screams of an entire restaurant’s worth of patrons as they scrambled for the doors, he couldn’t be sure. Voelir’s assassin instincts were rusty, but they kicked in, as he and Wren dove away from the window and pushed the table over to protect them as they did. Suddenly though, Voelir felt a prick at his neck, and the world exploded anew.

*****

An overly tall and somewhat overweight middle-aged man walked into Veritian Delight at mid-afternoon on the last workday of the week carrying a briefcase. Dressed impeccably, the man sported a full-sized Betrian-designed suit, and overly expensive De’giani sunglasses. Despite his apparent weight problem, he carried himself with pride, and strode in confidently to confront the maitre-de.

“Can I help you, sir?” the slick and greasy panderer to the wealthy asked the newcomer, appraising his size, outfit, and demeanor all at once, and coming up with a favorable impression.

“I’d like a table,” the businessman replied, “Preferably close to the window,” and before the maitre-de could say anything, the man pulled several large bills from his pocket and handily slipped a few thousand to the host. “For your troubles and my late reservation,” the businessman said and smiled, revealing perfect teeth.

“Well sir,” the host drawled, “Normally we would have trouble meeting your arrangements, and especially today given that our VIP section is temporarily close, but I believe I could accomadate you.”

A waiter appeared almost instantly, and the businessman was escorted to a table very close to the platform, which still had an excellent view of the window. The businessman wasted no time, but ordered an expensive bottle of wine as well as two extravagant meals, letting the waiter know that he could take his time, given that the businessman’s companion would only be joining him in a short while. The waiter, accustomed to rich customers, was taken aback at this newcomer’s casual nature and open-minded spending. Still, barely containing his grin at the tip he was sure to receive, the waiter hurried to the kitchen to attend to this new guest as well as he could. The waiter gone, the businessman sat for another minute, looked around once more, and then stood from his seat. Leaving his briefcase where it sat, the businessman casually and gracefully strode towards the entrance to the VIP section. From his very first step, he could feel the eyes of all twelve men lining the platform’s fence gauging his every move, and tracking his every breath. The man did nothing sudden, and kept his hands open and at his sides, confidently strolling up to the three stairs. There, he was immediately met by three vicious looking guards in Elite Vuun Security colors. The men wore green-striped, dark blue jackets over flak vests and personal body armor. Heavy boots adorned their feet, and sported round helmets with adjustable lightwave visors and earpieces. Each one loosely held his blaster carbine, most adjusted with hair-triggers, and more than a few sawed off for spray fire. Those that held sawed off carbines had them hanging over their shoulders holding rifles… it was clear that their orders were to be as precise as possible while in the restaurant.

“Go away,” the lead guard that met the businessman scowled, “This section’s closed, by order of Vuun Security. Any attempts to enter will be met by lethal force.”

“Gentlemen,” the businessman suavely addressed the gathered guards, “I will try to do nothing sudden, nor will I attempt to take a step past this point unless you let me through, so there will be no need for that. It is simply that I have a very valuable and important proposal for the individuals you are guarding, one that they will find quite lucrative and acceptable.”

The businessman tried to motion to the dining Councilmembers as he did, but he noticed that the way the guards were positioned, he had no line of sight to them at all. Half-shrugging, he simply gestured in a way to denote that he was talking about the men behind the guards.

“If you want a meeting with the Council, schedule an appointment for an interview with the office at the Fortress. This is neither the time nor the place for business, and the Council-members don’t accept calls at other than business hours,” the guard enunciated with more patience than he looked like he had. “Now scat,” he added for good measure.

“Now listen, I have some urgent business with the Council, and it can’t wait for an appointment,” the businessman pleaded, “I have information that could grant them access to the deal of the century, but they have to act now. I unfortunately don’t have the resources to act upon this data as well as they could, and I assure you they would be most grateful for your intervention in this matter. Here, maybe I could convince you…”

As the businessman trailed off, he pulled a fat billfold from his pocket and tried to start counting out money from it. Before he even got a chance, the guard knocked it out of his hand and onto the ground, “Listen scum,” the guard spat, “We don’t want your dirty money, and the Councilmen sure as frell don’t want your business, now get the frell gone before one of my men puts you down as a dangerous disturbance.”

The businessman looked truly taken aback that his attempt at bribery had failed and he scrambled to bend over to pick up the money he had dropped, he straightened, and, visibly shakened, was about to say something when the window at the far wall exploded into a burst of light and fire. Cursing wildly, the guards spun around and all adjusted their visors to regain their vision, blasters at the ready, yelling commands to the Council members to find cover. As they did this, the one blocking the businessman’s view of the Council-members hopped back up to the platform, and a space of a few inches opened a line of sight between the businessman and the Councilmen, who had dove to the floor and flipped the table up towards the window to provide cover from their assailants.

Deranz wasted no time, and Nezzie had dropped the thermal and the flashbang from the roof just on time. He raised his right hand and depressed the trigger on his palm, the needle-firing mechanism going off with a soft pop. He shifted his hand slightly and clicked again, his own vision unhindered by the disorienting light because of the sunglasses he had never removed. As soon as this was done, Deranz took off at a sprint in the opposite direction, fleeing the restaurant with all the other patrons, and hitting a button on a communicator at his belt as he did so. The guard directly in front of him had felt something pass by in his periphery and turned to find the large man fleeing like everyone else. Uncertain of what it was, he turned back to the window, where the light was finally fading and vision returning to the guards. As it did, they were surprised to see that the window hadn’t actually shattered, but rather that the outer layer of the plastisteel had developed cracks from the force of the blast. As per their instructions, Voelir Coaff andn Wren Del were on the ground behind the flipped over table that had been sittinig at, seeking cover.

“Councilmen,” the lead guard called, “Everything is alright, it was a failed attempt.”

The Councilmen did not move but remained slouched behind the table. Within three strides the guard was at the Councilmen’s sides, and a string of curses erupted out his mouth. Both Wren Del and Voelir Coaff were somehow dead, and a quick glance revealed how. Each man had a glistening silver needle protruding from the side of their necks. But the direction it had to have come from to pierce them where it did…

“The businessman!!” The lead guard shouted as he took off in sprint towards the restaurant’s exit. The movement in his periphery came back to him in a flash as he moved, “It was the businessman! Two of you stay with them, the rest, with me, after him!”

The rest of the restaurant was mostly empty already, the last of the patrons filing out in terror, but the guard thought he could still see the businessman’s giant frame trying to make its way through the packed crowd just outside the door. Nine men moved with him as he vaulted over the platform fence and hit the ground running. As he did though, a loud and terrible voice filled his ears, seeming to come from somewhere right next to him.

“JUSTICE HAS BEEN SERVED!” it broadcast throughout the restaurant.

DEATH HAS BEEN DELIVERED!” it announced, and the lead guard looked over to where he thought it was coming from to see a briefcase under the desk the businessman had stood up from. Giving a quick prayer to his deity, the guard started running with all him might in the opposite direction but it was too late. With a brilliant flash the briefcase exploded, sending purifying fire throughout the wasteful den that had only moment’s before been one of the fanciest restaurants in Vuun. The flames licked everything clean, and within instants, twelve guards and two dead bodies were scorched to cinders as the restaurant blew to pieces.

Outside, the fleeing crowd was thrown to the ground as the front windows of the establishment shattered from the shockwave, sending shards of plexiglass and a few stray flames and burning pieces of furniture onto the pavement. All of them cowered in shock or tried to crawl away, except one. A tall man dressed in an impeccable suit calmly wandered away from the scene and was met a bit further down the street by a shorter man in a large coat. A second later, the two ducked down an alley together, and were gone.

*****
'And So it Goes'
Posts: 214
Joined: Sun Feb 16, 2003 1:07 pm

Post by Jack_Sigma »

*****

The Lord Tory Goeve glanced furtively out the window of his chauffeured luxury transport car. The SRV-11 ‘Angelic’ model drove smoothly and silently through the streets of Vuun, surrounded by a cavalcade of two black guard transports and four speeders-bikes. It was more protection than would have normally accompanied the dark luxury vehicle with its tinted windows, but given the circumstances of earlier that afternoon, Goeve had thought it necessary to call in for extra backup. Now, he stared anxiously into every passerbyer’s face as the luxury transport made its slow way through Vuun’s traffic. Mean shadows darkened the lines of every citizen’s eyes, and every dark spot threatened to jump up and swallow Goeve’s car whole. He didn’t know why, but today it was worse than it had ever been, at least since Goeve’s days in the Core. Thoughts of those days reignited a glimmer of fond memories in Goeve, as they always managed to do for at least a few seconds. He had been a Senator in the Republic, a trusted and well known man. He had known Chancellor Vellorum personally, and had even spoken with Master Yoda on one occasion. Although, to be fair, that meeting left him feeling unclean and had him jumping at every motion in his periphery. It wasn’t that Yoda himself was a frightening persona, it was just that he spoke to Goeve as if he knew, as if he knew everything. As always after an instant or so of pleasant rememberances of plush quarters and fame, Goeve remembered the rest of his life on Coruscant, and how he had managed to get plush quarters on a Senator’s salary. Even on his home planet, Goeve had never been an honest politician. Favors and votes exchanged for money and benefits were the name of the game, but Goeve took it further than the typical political scum. He had had close ties with some of the local mafia groups on his home planet, and had shared a very beneficial symbiotic relationship with them. They had gotten rid of various opponents and obstacles in his way, and in turn he had guided the legislature of his home to ignore the growing mob problem. But Goeve didn’t hold faith with anyone, let alone anyone as dangerous as a mob boss. Upon running for election to the Galactic Senate, Goeve betrayed the mafia, ran his platform on cleaning up crime, and personally almost hand-delievered the heads of the local mafia organization to the justice authorities. He had been elected to Coruscant by a landslide, sent on his why by a chorus of cheers and heartfelt well-wishes for the man who had saved his home from organinzed crime.

The mafia bosses, all terrible murderers and expert criminals, had been locked up deep underground in dungeons that they would never be let out of. Years passed, and Goeve lived the good life on Coruscant, making the proper underground connections there as well, betraying whoever he could to get to the top, killing whoever he had to to get his way. Never directly of course, but such was politics. And then one day it all changed, because one of the mob bosses showed up on Coruscant. It was the last of the men he had put away to still be alive, and the youngest of that group. He came to Coruscant and he started working his way back up the food chain. He started organizing, and after some time, he finally made his presence known to Goeve. He let Goeve know that he held a finely honed blade on a molecule wide string above Goeve’s head, and if Goeve didn’t do and vote exactly how he said, he would make sure to cut that string, and let the blade fall. The problem was, that Goeve had already committed to others in the other direction, men who would just as quickly kill him for noncomplicity. He was in a deadly bind, and when he finally decided to vote with his previous commitment, he was rudely awoken one morning by his aide telling him that the Republic was coming to arrest him for corruption and conspiracy against the State. Goeve had fled, and ended up in the light-forsaken place, but he still remembered his ride to the spaceport that terrifying morning. He had been certain that every shadow, every nook and cranny contained men just waiting to kill him. Kill him slowly and painfully.

In the intervening years, Goeve had been the target of many assassins and criminal attemps, but it had never been that bad again. The Lord Tory Goeve was not a coward, but there were days were he just had a feeling that things were going to go worse, and some that he knew things were going to go better. Maybe that’s why he had felt that Yoda knew him to be unclean, and probably because Yoda had indeed felt it. Today was bad, almost worse than fleeing Coruscant. And Goeve couldn’t for the life of him figure out why.

“Who the frell could it have been?” he mumbled as he scanned the people that were on the walkways of the street the car was driving down.

“Come on Goeve,” Erasten Wiim, Goeve’s friend and fellow elder member of the Council replied, “I don’t know what’s got you so on edge, or what has your thinking muddled, but we know that there’s only two possibilities.”

“Yeah, I know,” Goeve grumbled, then took a deep breath and let it out, “I’m sorry Erasten, I really don’t know myself why I’m so worried. That explosion at the Veritian Delight a few hours ago has had my head all in a jumble. We’ve survived plenty of assassination attempts in our time, but it’s been a little while that we’ve had peace, so I guess I’m not used to it anymore.”

“Right,” Wiim breathed, “I agree with that. Tyco implemented his little plan, and I guess the week of silence in between kind of lulled us all into a false sense of security. I must say though, that was a pretty spectacular way to take out Voellir and Wren. It’s fairly crude, but it’s pretty smart. After all, we still have no clues, and no fact as to who it possibly could’ve been. Bomb was a hi-tech job, made with just enough power to take out the inside of the place and burn everything flammable to cinders in the process. Initial reports out from the clean-up crew are that there may not even be anything left of Del and Coaff except their charred and broken skeletons.”

“Bah!” Goeve threw up his hands in frustration, “If only we could know which of them it was. It’s been a week, but outside the completely implausible, there’s only two possibilities. It was either the Guild retaliating finally for Telfass, or something Huin cooked up. I’ve been suspicious all week of that cunning little poont worm taking Tyco’s power move so quietly and passively… we all knew he’d make a move, but I was sure that it’d be against Domenix. I know the Del and Coaff were part of his original power base, but what would killing them mean for him? If it was him, he’ll definitely go after Tyco too, but then what? Does that mean he’s decided to try to take out the whole Council and reform it the way he wants? Was he going just after Tyco’s people? Frell, does he think we’re Tyco’s people now?”

“That’s the thing though,” Erasten pondered, “It doesn’t really feel like it’s the Guild, either. First of all, this whole week layoff isn’t like them, and if they were planning to make a move, I feel like it would’ve come within two, maybe three days of the incident tops. They know the rules of the game as well as we do. Plus, we’ve been in contact with our Guild sources, and they say that organization-wide orders right now are to stand down, and tone down operations. And if they really did knock of Wren and Voellir, they’ve would’ve done it quieter. It’s not like the Guild to make a scene like this.”

“It’s not like Detrin to make a scene like this either,” Goeve replied, still scanning pedestrians.

“What if…” Erasten put a thoughtful finger to his bottom lip and looked at Goeve, “What if we take Huin out anyway..?”

“Pardon?” Goeve asked, a mock shocked look on his face, “Have you been thinking about this all week Wiim? Because I’ve never known you to propose something without giving it at least a few days consideration first.”

Erasten shrugged sheepishly, “What can I say, that old codger’s silence has been bothering me as much as it’s been bothering you. But now, we can take him out and blame it on the Guild, or whoever these bastards are that took out Wren and Voellir.”

“Are we even sure Wren and Voellir were the targets?” Goeve questioned, “There were plenty of rich people in the restaurant at the time, it could’ve been a botched assassination attempt of some business leader.”

“What does that have to do with us killing Huin?” Erasten looked puzzled.

“Nothing,” Goeve answered, “I was just thinking out loud, I–-”

Goeve cut short as the clink of metal imacted against the left side on the car, the side that Erasten was one, Goeve got off a “What the…” when he suddenly felt all the hair on his body stand up stick straight and try to escape his body. His brain felt scrambled, and Goeve couldn’t understand what was going on. Erasten meanwhile, although experiencing the same effects, knew what they meant.

“EMP!!” came his shout, “Go, out the other side, now!!”

Goeve decided to listen to his companion because he could barely think for himself for a few seconds. As the two very powerful Council members climed out of their luxury car, a trail of fire reached down from the third floor windows of one of the buildings across the road to gently flick the politicians’ car. And then the missle exploded. The car’s left doors and bottom of the chasse exploded in a brilliant flash, sending parts in all directions. Behind the car’s wrecked husk, the Lord Tory Goeve and Erasten Wiim crouched with blasters at the ready. Their guards were off their bikes and out of their cars, and rushing to help the two Council-members. The going was hard though, as four of the third floor windows of the offending building suddenly started spewing wild blaster-fire on top of the cavalcade, pinning some of the elite guards trying to get to the Councilmen. The guards in the front seats of the luxury vehicle were both dead, leaving Goeve and Wiim on their own until the other could reach them. All around the sidewalk behind them, the previously window-browsing and fairly amused crowd had become a screaming cacophony of people and movement. Goeve didn’t care about the frightened masses though, and kept scanning the windows that the blaster fire was coming from for any unhidden body parts to shoot at. A few seconds later, as the shooting continued unabated, Goeve and Erasten saw a few of the guards move off to flank the building, while a few more looked about ready to break away from the cover fire and retrieve the Councilmen. Not bothering to shoot back and willing to let the guards do the work, the Lord Tory Goeve slunk down behind the wreck of his car and just tried to avoid blaster bolts. Some insect stung Goeve’s shoulder, and the former Senator saw Erasten swat at his arm. He was about to make a wry comment about this, but all of a sudden, the world went black.

*****

ooc:/ if last few paragraphs don't make sense, I apologize, am literally falling asleep and I may have been in and out for a bit at the end, but I wanted to get at least part of the next part done... to be cont, as always...
'And So it Goes'
Posts: 214
Joined: Sun Feb 16, 2003 1:07 pm

Post by Jack_Sigma »

*****

On the third floor of an apartment building overlooking Taldarian Way, Deranz Tryce hurried to prepare for the arrival of his ‘guests.’ The apartment he was running around in was large and completely devoid of furniture aside from a single stool which stood next to the windows in the room Deranz was making his primary preparations in. That room was actually the entire reason that the boys had decided to acquire this apartment, because it was ideally suited to their needs. The room was the living-room of the apartment and its central chamber, and has as its main feature four bay windows in a row looking down on the heavily trafficked street below. It had cost the boys an exorbitant sum to rent the apartment for a short while, but it was a necessary cost given their operation.

Deranz looked down at his chrono, and then out the windows to the road below. He knew the approximate time he had to be completely ready by, but he knew he was relying on the schedules of other people, and those situations were never quite as reliable as he would have like them to be. Still, he thought he had given himself enough leeway in his preparations so as to not miss the target window. If he did, it would have been a waste of some complicated and fairly difficult planning, as well as a valuable opportunity.

Although the apartment was devoid of furniture, this did not mean it was entirely empty, and what looked like a veritable munitions dump made up for the lack of any of the usual implements of civilized society and home living. An automated light repeater cannon stood before each of the four windows, facing towards Taldarian Way, which ran directly below the apartment. Each cannon was set up with its primary power pack and two on standby load, and a small crate of repeater rifle energy packs sat nearby in the eventuality that three each wasn’t enough for the rifles. Used in bursts, three energy packs could last quite a while, but on autofire the guns burned power like crazy, and Deranz had planned for the disasterous eventuality of the guns cutting out too soon. Another smaller crate stood open in the middle of the room, the conical and eager noses of a few small missiles jutting tenuously out of the thick gel-like material they were packaged in to avoid excess motion. Three missiles peeked out of the box like chicks first hatched from their eggs, but a fourth spot was already blank, occupied only by the still smooth surface of blue goo. Two cases of grenades lay haphazardly around as well, one full of thermal detonators and the other of EMP grenades. The thermal crate was the only munitions crate in the room still closed, but the EMP box had been cracked open and dug into, and was missing a few items. Finally, almost unnoticed due to all the heavy weaponry in the room, a single black briefcase lay alongside the wall perpendicular to the windows at the far side of the room.

Meanwhile, to the side of the room closest to where the traffic down Taldarian Way would be coming from, a door opened into the apartment’s kitchen, which fortuitously had another window looking down on the crowded promenade below. A rocket launcher leaned cautiously against the corner next to that window, which was the only one in the apartment to have been opened. A small switch lay on the windowsill of the kitchen window, its primary button large, but of a pleasant light blue color. It was the system that this button triggered that Deranz was hurrying to tweak before his target’s arrival. Moving quickly, Deranz stepped from repeater cannon to repeater cannon, making sure that their automated range of fire extended to the single side of the street going in the direction his target would be going, and nothing else. Deranz was trying to be cautious to avoid unnecessary civilian deaths in the process of his planning. If it happened, it happened, but that didn’t mean that it couldn’t be planned against.

Looking at the mechanized viewscreen of the third cannon, Deranz manually and cautiously aimed the cannon in a square outlining the proper side of the street, and calibrated the cannon to fire randomly within that area. As long as no pedestrians ran into the square of fire, they’d be fine. But if they did…

Deranz sighed but couldn’t bother to waste time on unnecessary and idle thoughts. If someone was really stupid enough to run into blaster fire, then he really couldn’t be held responsible for their well-being anyway. Moving on to the final cannon, Deranz checked the calibration again, and then double-checked the wires coming from each of the cannons and congregating in a central control-box, which was connected by remote to the switch with the blue button sitting on the kitchen window-sill. From there, Deranz would be able to activate all the cannons to fire simulatenously, and without his manual presence or handling. That set, Deranz grabbed his stool and pulled it over to the kitchen window, finally releasing a deep breath as he sat down and looked out the window, prepared to wait. As he did, Deranz pulling his comm from his belt and keyed it on,

“Set,” was all he said, and the comm simply beeped twice in response. Deranz tucked the comm away, set two EMP grenades on the window-sill next to the blue switch, and set his eyes on Taldarian Way, as far up the road as his angle of sight would allow.

As usual, the only reliable thing about politicians was that they were always late. Several minutes after the expected window of arrival, Deranz noted the caravan of vehicles coming down the chasse. For a few seconds he had even begun to worry that he and Nezzie had miscalculated and that on this particular afternoon the two Council-members weren’t going to make take their regular route, but as the obnixous group of guard vehicles and the luxury speeder appeared on the horizon, Deranz let out a small breath. It had been too long since the Council of Vuun had had any kind of challenge to their authority, and their criminal instincts had become dulled. They had given themselves up to regular routines, assuming that their hold over the city and massive guard force would be able to deal with any issues that arose.

The Council won’t make that mistake again… Deranz thought, and then broke into a small grin. Of course they wouldn’t, because it was hard for dead men to repeat mistakes.

Hefting one of the EMP grenades, Deranz counted down the seconds as the caravan approached the designated assault point. As he did, his eyes scanned the crowd on the street for Nezeliezer, but Deranz couldn’t pick out any individuals that seemed out of place, nor could he recognize his friend. Although, of course, that was the point.

And…

The front of the lead guard transport passed the small food stand that Nezzie and Deranz had designated as the critical spot, and a second late the luxury transport did too. With a huff and a heft, Deranz chucked the first EMP out the open window towards the vehicle. He grabbed the second EMP off the window-sill immediately, and an instant later the second grenade was in the air making a lazy arc towards its target. Even as that action was completed, Deranz was already lifting the rocket launcher to his shoulder. On the street below, a brilliant blue flash illuminated the roadway as the first EMP exploded and brought the luxury transport to a crashing halt, along with the speeder that had been directly alongside of it. The speeder’s crash sent it’s driver to the ground in a heap as the now dead and extremely heavy hunk of metal obeyed the laws of gravity which science had allowed it to sidestep and came down on top of the man who had so proudly been its master just seconds before. The second EMP exploded almost right after, but that had only been for insurance in case the first hadn’t gone off, although its blast managed to encompass another speeder which hadn’t fallen into the radius of the first.

Scramble, you pompous fools…

The thought formed as Deranz depressed the firing mechanism on the rocket launcher and sent a missile towards the transport. The missile’s purpose wasn’t necessarily to kill the Councilmen, but to force them onto the street. Although if the men had decided to hide in their symbol of power, it would have also become their tomb. Indeed, two of the most powerful men in Vuun came flying out of their luxury speeder right before the missile turned it into slag that any junkyard would have been proud to own. As this all unfolded, the two larger guard transports had come to a halt and security guards came pouring out in a somewhat orderly fashion. About half started heading for where the Councilmen now crouched behind the ruined speeder, and another half started heading across the street towards the building.

And now for the fun part...

Deranz hit the master control for the automated blaster cannons, and four windows shattered as four streams of laser fire peppered the street where the Vuun Council convoy had come to a stop directly in front of Deranz’ apartment building. Not all the guards had even managed to make it out of the transports, but several were taken down immediately by the massive onslaught that now greeted them from across the street. The crowd that had been on the street meanwhile scattered like terrified insects whose hive had just been assaulted by a giant hose. Men ran like children, while women clutched their kids to their breasts and desperately fled for the buildings or away from the warzone that now encompassed the street. Deranz was pleased to see that the blaster settings were staying on target and keeping to the one side of the street, and very few blaster bolts hit the sidewalk behind the convoy, which was already largely abandoned. Some stupid rodian decided to try to run to safety on the other side of the street, through the firestorm, and his charred body didn’t even make it to the median in the street.

The blaster fire didn’t affect the Council members, who were shielded from it by their vehicle, but the increased pressure from the far side of the street drew the attention of more of the still living guards, and two groups started moving towards the building around the fire in a large hurry. In the fleeing crowd behind the convoy, Deranz saw one man, unnoticed by the guards or other terror-stricken civilians, who turned back towards the convoy and the demolished street for an instant. Deranz thought he may have caught two quick glints of sunlight off of metal, but he had probably imagined it, and then the individual turned back with the crowd and kept up his flight.

The same instant, Deranz’ comm beeped three long tones, and Deranz noticed with some satisfaction that the forms of the Councilmen were no longer squirming behind their transport. The satisfaction didn’t last long because Deranz still had to get out of the apartment, and the guard continigent that had been heading towards the building was almost certainly inside by that point and dashing upstairs. He only had moments to spare, and Deranz sprinited out into the living room, grabbing a few grenades from the open crate for good measure. He barely stopped to make the pickup, but ran straight through the living room and into a door that had been in the wall on the opposite side of the room from the kitchen.

Even as the door swung closed behind Deranz, the front door to the apartment was blown open by blaster fire, and followed by three vicious looking guards with assault rifles. The three piled in and scattered through the apartment, one taking a second to blast apart the four automated turrets. Another ran into the kitchen, and another checked the bedrooms, while seven more guards flooded into the apartment.

“Monitor communications frequencies,” one yelled to the other, “They’re sure to be trying to coordinate.”

The guard in charge of communications nodded and tweaked the frequency in his helmet to monitor and retransmit any caught signals to the earpieces of the other guards. Carefully conscious of the munitions littered all over the floor, the guards searched the place and were somewhat shocked to find it completely empty. One of the men opened the door Deranz had disappeared into, and found himself facing an empty closet.

These men were professionals though, and after the closet proved empty, the guard glanced up, where a square carved into the ceiling revealed what was probably a trap door into the apartment directly above.

Meanwhile, in the fourth floor apartment directly above the one which the assault had been conducted from, Deranz was making his way out the window and up a metal stair that led to the roof. The boys had rented that apartment out as well, and had installed a trap-door in the closet from one apartment into the other to serve as a means of escape for Deranz. The building wasn’t overly tall and only had four floors, so that from there, Deranz could make his way directly to the roof and flee across the rooftops. As he climbed up the rungs of the ladder and hopped up to the roof, Deranz pressed a button on the remote activation control on his waist, and took off at a dead run for the next building’s roof, lunging over the divide between buildings.

Back in the apartment, some concentrated blaster-fire had vaporized what had once been a trap door, and two of the guards were helping a third hop up to the vacant fourth-floor apartment. They were surrounded by four more guards waiting their turn, while the other three were securing the remaining rooms for any surprises. The guard still in the living room noticed a black briefcase against the wall, on which a previously unnoticed light suddenly blinked blue.

Over one of the monitored and retransmitted frequencies the guards were tracking, a voice suddenly materialized inside their heads via their earpieces.

“We know you’re listening,” a cold voice said, “and we have something to say.”

“Justice has been served,” the voice said.

“Death has been delivered,” a different voice added.

The guard who had noticed the blinking blue light moved and simultaneously tried to yell to warn his compatriots, but it was far too late for that. The briefcase exploded in a brilliant flash, but this one hadn’t even needed to be loaded with the quantity of explosives used for the restaurant. Instead, the superheated flames and minor shrapnel caught the boxes of grenades and missiles in their shockwaves and wave of fire.

If the manufacturer of thermal detonators and rockets for that particular kind of missile launcher had thought he was dealing with complete idiots, he would have written a warning on the boxes that said, ‘Do not expose to explosions.’ That individual had not thought that necessary, and in truth, it really wasn’t. In this case, even if the message had been there, it wouldn’t have really helped.

With a tremendous ‘BOOM,’ the entire third floor apartment blew out of the building, taking with it the fourth floor apartment and part of the second. Rubble and plexiglass fragments showered the by now deserted street, along with a few bodyparts of guards who had been hit by the shockwave before they had had time to be incinerated. The debris wasn’t met with much surprise though, but was rather greeted warmly by the street, which itself was in a similar state. As for the only individuals left on that part of the street, they were getting more of their own, because nothing moving or breathing was left there. And among the dead were two men who had only an hour earlier still been part of the leadership group of the entire city. Together they slumped against what had been their prestigious transport, the glittering end of a needle emerging from one of their shoulders, and another’s arm.

A few blocks away, a youth stood in a deserted alleyway as another larger one climbed down a fire escape down the side of a building and hopped onto the ground, raised a little dust as he did so.

“I already made the calls,” Nezeliezer said as Deranz hit the ground.

“Good,” the other replied, “although by now I guess they know that the attack on the restaurant was most definitely targeting the Council.”

“Yeah,” Nezzie mused as the boys quickly made their way out the alley and onto a busy street, “But I don’t think it should be too much trouble for us. The next target’s supposed to be incommunicado now anyway, and we have people watching the last two. We just have to move quickly.”

“And everything’s set?” Deranz questioned again.

“Yeah, we’re ready to go.” Nezzie said simply.

“Alright,” Deranz nodded as the boys hurried on, “Let’s make this good.”

*****

ooc:/more forthcoming, now that I'm back from vac... but first, work tomorrow :|
'And So it Goes'
Posts: 214
Joined: Sun Feb 16, 2003 1:07 pm

Post by Jack_Sigma »

*****

A short while later elsewhere in the city, an overlarge man in brightly colored and patterned robes made his way down a corridor in an apartment building with a gorgeous young woman next to him. The girl’s dark black hair was up, and some kind of sparkling gems hung almost haphazardly in the mass of hair, but somehow made a perfectly ordered arrangement. A tight low-cut black dress hugged her curves to the bottom of her thighs, where it flared out slightly and then ended unevenly. A slit up the right side of the dress exposed creamy pale skin and would have set any man drooling at the very sight of her. Black heels clicked rhythmically on the tile floor of the corridor and the venus-like figure swayed and floated down the hall.

The man standing next to her was a very odd companion to the girl, and most likely would have confused onlookers. His bright robes couldn’t entirely hide the man’s burgeoning gut, and his face was pockmarked and scarred, and one of his eyes looked like it may or may not work properly. A beard decorated the man’s face, but that was at least somewhat trimmed, and a very dangerous glare focused on anyone who even dared have unpure thoughts about the angel at his side. The hall the man and his nymph were walking down was in some random and unspectacular apartment building in the city of Vuun, and was for some reason occupied further down by a group of guards. The guards were atypical for Vuun security, but instead looked more like mercenaries wearing the colors of the city of Vuun. Four of these aggregated around a door to one of the apartments on the hall, all moderately armored, their assault rifles hanging loosely from straps around their necks. Three of the men, a blond and two brunettes, squatted and played cards, while a fourth leaned against the wall next to the door, smoking a cigarillio. Despite the lax appearance of these men, it should be noted that none of their hands were more than a few inches from the handles of their assault rifles, and none of the rifles’ safeties were engaged. In fact, it would have been a good bet that some, if not all of the rifles, didn’t have safeties, and it was entirely a possibility that at least one of them was modified with a dead-man rig on his trigger, having removed the trigger-guard for quicker access and rapid-fire capability.

Two more guards, these more attentive looking and standing tall, rifles armed and ready, stood across the corridor about twenty feet in front of the apartment, and the hall ended another fifteen feet and couple of apartments past the heavily guarded door. As the oddly dressed man and his female counterpart approached the two guards, two assault rifles raised as one at the sight of them, both pointed squarely at the large man.

“Hall’s closed,” the one on the left said, “Go somewhere else.”

“I come on important business for the Lord Uem, on behalf of the Lord Domenix,” the large man rumbled in a voice that brooked no nonsense, “The Lord Domenix sends a gift to the Lord Uem for the evening, as a sign of gratitude for his faithful services.”

With an expansive wave of his hand, the large man made obvious what ‘gift’ he was referring to. Both mercenaries’ eyes drifted towards the stunning beauty before them, looking her up and down, and one of them subconsciously licked his lips. Their gaze held there for a second longer than would’ve been proper, and the stern voice of the man they had forgotten about dragged them back to reality,

“Hey!” violence tinted the edges of the man’s tone, “You stare another second and I’ll rip both your eyes out. This one’s not for you, and your entire life’s worth couldn’t afford her, so stop thinking about it. Looking costs money too, and unless you want me to extract it from you by force, get back to business.”

The eyes of the guards had wavered, but the rifles had never moved from their mark of the middle of the man’s chest. Now, knuckles grew white on handles, and the slack rifle barrels grew taught,

“Now wait one second, who the frell you think you ar—” one of the guards started, but the man drew himself to full height, towering over the men and looking down at them, stepping forward simultaneously so that both rifle barrels were suddenly pressed tightly against his chest.

“I know that I am carrying a gift for a member of the Council of Vuun from the head of that Council. From the most powerful man in this city, to one not far beneath him. And I know that my primary job is to protect my charge and collect my money, and since I’ve already been paid I’m here to deliver on my second job, which is to present this girl to the Lord Uem. And I know that your lives aren’t worth a verrit’s droppings compared to the Lords Uem and Domenix. So stop frellin’ around, don’t forget yourself, and escort me the frell to Lord Uem.”

The words were delievered quietly but with brute force, and by the end, the guards had lowered their rifles and to a point seemed almost abashed. To save face, one of them mumbled, “well, as long as you’re here on official business from Lord Domenix…” and the other stepped back to let the man and the girl by, and walked them to the other group of guards, the girl first, the man second, and finally followed by the guard.

As Deranz followed the dolled up Nenya, he could barely restrain the stray thoughts running through his head at the speed of light. The boys didn’t really know or trust anyone other than Marcus Daine and his daughter, but had been reluctant to include them in their plans. As a result, they had called on them for some very specific help, explaining to them only the parts of the plan they would be directly involved in and when, and nothing else. Daine had been loathe to allow Nenya to participate in this endeavor, but the girl had insisted, and the boys had promised to keep her part simple and minimal, and then get her as to a safe place before continuing. Even such, for safety reasons the boys had kept even Nenya and Daine’s roles a secret from each other, which had probably been a good thing as far as Marcus Daine was concerned. If he knew the role Nenya was currently playing, he would’ve had an aneurism, and would’ve raised a tremendous fuss.

As for Deranz and Nezeliezer, they had told Nenya about the part, and had simply told her to be ready. Nezzie had contacted her after the killings on Taldarian Way, and the boys had arrived to pick her up, having told her nothing else than to look the part. Both boys had been floored, but Deranz more so because of the strange state of relations between him and Nenya. He hadn’t been able to talk, hadn’t been able to form a cogent sentence for the first minute after she had opened the door to the safe-house where she had been waiting for them. And she… she had only made it worse. Nenya was a natural born actress and had fallen into the part perfectly, playing the coquette with style. The only problem was that she had started playing it on Deranz the second he had walked into the room. Those smoky sideways glances, those quick winks when Nezzie wasn’t looking, and the sultry way she said ever usually normal phrase had driven Deranz to the verge of insanity. And when he had finally asked her to stop because she was distracting him from a very serious assassination attempt, she had simply put on a face of cherubic innocence, batted her eyelashes, and inquired what oh what it was that she was doing. Then she had laughed like the tinkling of bells in the wind, and made even that sound seductive.

Now, Deranz had finally entered his own act of pimp and protector, and only his training of cold emotionlessness when on mission was keeping him from falling in a swoon at her feet. Still, the way she swayed when she walked managed to distract him once again in the twenty feet between the first set of guards and those in front of the door, although his exterior veneer exposed none of it.

Merely seconds later, although a good few hours by Deranz’ count of following Nenya, the group and their guard escort were at the door to the apartment Uem was using, and the game was on once again. The guards at the door at had stood at the appearance of someone at their first checkpoint, and were all keeping close track of Deranz as he approached them. The guard that escorted them explained what it was they were there for, and just like the first time, all four guards’ eyes went straight to Nenya for a good stare.

These were a bit better though, and came back to business like they were supposed to,

“That’s all well and good,” the one who had been smoking, clearly the leader, said to Deranz, eyeing him warily, “But who are you again?”

“Dallin Booc,” Deranz replied, “I run an escort service for higher society, but given the nature of this request, I came down here to deliver personally.”

At the name of Dallin Booc, one of the guards whistled. Booc was a well known pimp in the area, serving the richest of the rich, and his girls were said to have legendary abilities.

“With all respect, Master Booc, you have some identification?” the lead guard asked, and Deranz nodded, observing the proper forms and handing it over. The guard glanced at it for a good long while and finally handed it back to Deranz. As he was doing this, another man appeared at the end of the hall and was moving towards the guard checkpoint. Upon seeing this, the group’s leader looked over to the second checkpoint guard, who was still with the main group, oogling Nenya.

“Frajj! Get back to your post, seems like we got a busy night for some reason,” the leader said suspiciously, and turned back to Deranz.

“Well Master Booc, seems to check out, but I’m afraid you’ve still come at a bad time. Lord Domenix’ gifts nonwhistanding, Lord Uem is already with a companion, so it seems you’ve come a little late.”

This of course was the point. Deranz and Nezeliezer knew that this was they day that Uem retired to his secret apartment in the outskirts of Vuun to enjoy himself, and that he was generally incommunicado for that portion of time. Uem too, for some reason, was regular as clockwork with this, and only showed up on a certain day of the week, every week.

Deranz looked like he was about to speak when Nenya took two curvaceous steps towards the guard commander,

“Are you…” she started, her voice low and full of insinuation as she lifted her delicate hand with its long, painted nails and dragged the very tip of one nails slowly down the man’s cheek, stopping with the tip of her forefinger on his bottom lip, “sure one’s enough?”

The guard commander stood there for a second, brow furrowed, then sighed. “Gibbs,” he called to one of the three other men standing next to him, “Go in and disturb the Lord Uem, and let him know that the Lord Domenix had sent him a gift. Let him know it may be worth his while to examine it for a second.”

Gibbs nodded and knocked on the door in a quick pattern, as it was opened from inside by another guard who let him in. Deranz and Nenya were left standing in the hall, waiting.

Meanwhile, some moments earlier an average dressed kid had strolled down the hall, and suddenly found his way to the end of it blocked by a guard, with another one quickly walking up. Both had assault rifles, and a few more guards as well as a large man and a woman loitered further down the hall talking. The kid looked surprised, but even more so when the guard in front of him raised his rifles and was all of a sudden blocking his path.

“Who the frell are you?” one of them said annoyedly, still smarting from the conversation with Deranz a little earlier.

“I… I live down the hall,” Nezzie said, playing the part of a naïve kid, “What’s going on?”

“This hall’s closed, come back later,” the guard replied, as a second one joined him.

“Excuse me?” the kid uttered incredulously, unsure of what exactly was taking place, “What do you mean the hall’s closed, my apartment’s at the end of the hall on the left, the hall can’t be closed, I live here!”

“I said it’s closed, so it’s closed,” the guard answered, sounding half bored, “Now bugger off.”

A stubborn glare set into the boy’s face, in his eyebrows drooped as his bottom lip extended itself ever so slightly and sullenly, “Now listen, I don’t know what the frell’s going on, but I pay good frellin’ money to live in this buildinig, and I need to go home, and I need to go home now! I just got back from work, I’m dead tired, and there’s no way some hooligans with guns are gonna keep me from my bed. Now if you’re scared of me you can walk me to my room, but damn it, I’m going home!”

The second guard stuck his face in his left hand and muttered something that sounded like ‘why today..?’ under his breath as he rubbed his eyes. “Kid,” he started off tiredly, “I don’t really wanna shoot you, and it’s been a long day. Come back in two hours, and we’ll be done.”

“Who are you guys anyway?” the kid asked all of a sudden, “I’m gonna call Vuun Security, they should know that there are hooligans dressed up as them. I’m gonna raise all sorts of a ruckuss… you gotta either shoot me or let me go the frell home, because I’m way to ridiculously tired to go wander the streets for two hours for no reason whatsoever.”

The second guard sighed again and hefted his rifle a bit, staring at it longingly. He just wanted to blast a hole in this kid’s gut. He really wanted to. But the Lord Uem’s rules were not to make a scene or a ruckuss, nor make trouble for the landlord who maintained Uem’s secrecy, so blasting one of the payinig customers of one of Uem’s loyals wasn’t the best of ideas.

“ID?” the guard asked with his hand out, still gently running his forefinger along the groove of his trigger.

The kid gave it to him, and the guard put a call into the landlord. A few seconds later a nasal-pitched voice answered the call. Another minute later, and the guard had verified with the landlord that this kid had indeed moved into the apartment down the hall a week earlier, and was indeed a paying customer in good standing with the building. Since it was his first week, it explained why the guards hadn’t seen him before, or why he didn’t know to keep away from the building on that particular time and that particular day. Most of the other tenants had learned that even if they were allowed, they didn’t actually want to be anywhere near whoever the high profile official was that used the apartment across the hall in secrecy. They knew that a misstep could mean death or a beating, so they stayed away. This kid was just too dumb to realize it yet.

“Hey boss,” Frajj yelled, having completed the call to the landlord, “Kid lives down the hall, landlord verified. Should I walk him down to his place?”

The query came right after Gibbs had entered Uem’s apartment, and the commander waved Frajj to proceed. They were technically supposed to let the tenant back to their homes, it was just that so few every wanted to come back. Frajj’s companion at the fore station in the hall stayed in place again as Frajj sent the kid forward, walking behind him towards his apartment at the end of the hall.

And after the kid had taken even one step past the first guard stop, it was entirely clear where his attention was riveted. Now done with the gun toting guards, the kid was staring unabashedly at the beauty standing in front of Uem’s door, and entirely ignoring anyone and everything else. It was entirely uncertain if he even saw the girl’s protector, even though the beast of a man was dressed about as brightly as he could be without being a circus clown.

Dallin Booc and his high-priced hooker were waiting patiently for Gibbs, who had only entered the apartment moments earlier, to come back with Uem’s answer when the kid walked by with Frajj in tow. The girl was facing the door and the guard commander, with Booc to her left and also facing the door. The last two guards were against the wall to the right of the door, and to the right of the girl. As the kid walked past the girl, she suddenly shrieked and turned smartly and slapped the kid with all her strength. The slap resounded down the hall and left a tingling red mark on the kid’s cheek, who suddenly wore a dumb grin. Booc whirled around to face the kid and his woman,

“What the sith just happened,” he growled, eyes soldered to the face of the kid, but waiting for the girl’s answer.

“I-I’m sorry,” she stammered, “He groped me and I kind of jumped.”

“Hey, I didn’t do squat!” the kid protested, half-grin still on his face and doing a horrible job of lying, “I just brushed by her by accident, I swear-”

The kid didn’t finish the sentence as Dallin Booc had stepped up to him so closely that the kid’s face was almost buried in Booc’s chest, and Booc’s overlarge belly was millimeters from touching the boy, “That was stupid kid,” came the pronouncement, “That was real stupid. For that, you owe me 500 creds.”

The proximity of Booc and the deadly seriousness of his voice woke the kid a little, who suddenly realized that he had done something that might not be taken all that lightly, but an instant later his previously seen stubborn streak set in, as did the same expression that Frajj had seen a short while earlier,

“What??” the kid cried, outraged, “I ain’t payin’ you squat, mister! I said it was an accident and it was, and the frell what the girl thinks.”

“Kid, you don’t pay, and I’ll extract it from you in blood,” Booc menaced.

“Yeah? Oh yeah??” the kid repeated, not being able to quite think of a response quickly enough, “Well I’m not afraid of you you big…you big goribath! You can’t just go around bullyin’ people around cuz you’re big! I’m not scared of you!” The response wasn’t very creative, and in reality, a goribath wasn’t a very frightening creature. Native to the planet Gorvion Alpha, the were truly large, but were herbivores, and often portrayed as friendly or talking animals in popular children’s tales. This didn’t matter to Dallin Booc though, who looked ready to kill the kid on the spot. At this point, the fair-hearted and womanly intuition of the gorgeous escort girl kicked in, and not wanting too see blood, nor get it on her dress, she quickly grabbed the guard commander on the arm,

“Please,” she entreated, “He’s going to kill that poor boy! He’s too dumb to know what he did, please, stop him…”

A little disappointed that he wasn’t going to get to see Dallin Booc tear the annoying and possibly mentally challenged kid limb from limb, the guard commander nonetheless complied with the lady’s request, and stepped up to the two men to try and separate them. From the other side, Frajj stepped up as well to assist the girl and his captain in their mutual desires.

“Now come on now, break it up…” the commander started as he stepped forward and grabbed Dallin by the shoulder.

“Get back you dumb kid!” Frajj likewise demanded as he grabbed the kid by the arm.

Dallin moved his large frame and the guard commander went flying backwards against the corridor wall. The kid also turned to push Frajj with one hand and the other guard went flying to the ground. Seeing the melee about to erupt the other guards started moving towards the two men, guns half-raised. They didn’t understand what was going on. It was their misfortune.

As Frajj grabbed Nezeliezer’s right arm, Nezzie acted, putting his left hand against a space in the guard’s body armor and triggering the needle launcher at his wrist, firing one deep into Frajj’s side as he pushed him away. Frajj’s body stumbled back down the hall a step towards where the first guard was, blocking Nezzie from the man’s view. Nezzie was already in motion though, and as the dead Frajj fell to the ground, a triangular shaped grooved throwing blade whistled through the air centimeters above his falling frame and crossed the fifteen foot divide between Nezeliezer and the distant guard’s neck, where it landed and released a waterfall of blood.

As the guard commander grabbed Deranz’ right shoulder, Deranz put his right hand against the man’s stomach right below his chest piece, and pushed the man away even as he fired a needle through the cloth at that gap. Before the man had even reached the wall he would very soon bounce against before toppling lifeless to the floor, Deranz spun towards the two remaining guards, who as yet oblivious to the fact that their comrades were dead, were reacting far too slowly. As he spun, Deranz brought up the blade he had been concealing in his stomach pouch which he had stealthily removed during the mock-argument with Nezeliezer. He extended his arm, and sliced the throat of the guard closest to him while the man was still contemplating the sudden blur of motion in front of him. The other’s eyes widened and he tried to get his rifle up and yell, but clearly coordinating the two tasks was too much for him, besides which he had already been many seconds slow to actually have saved himself. On the backswing of slittinig the first guard’s throat, Deranz stepped forward and stabbed the blade down over the man’s collarbone on his left side, towards his heart. With his free right hand, Deranz tightly clasped the man’s mouth and nose to prevent any noise from escaping, and pressed the man against the wall with his body to prevent thrashing. A few seconds later and the feeble attempts at movement and death throes had finished, and Deranz quietly lowered the man’s body to the floor.

Where once had been five guards only moments earlier, now just Deranz and Nezzie stood. Deranz’ garish uniform was pulled off along with the fake stomach pouch, and silently pressed into Nenya’s hands. The girl, knowning this part of the plan, took the clothes and hurried down the hall to the apartment that boys had actually rented for the purposes of Nezzie’s cover and Nenya’s safekeeping. She would wait there for the boys, and if they didn’t come out, she would stay the night and have her father extract her in the morning. If anything, the boys would at least kill Gibbs, the only guard left alive who had seen the girl. As she ran, the boys took up positions on either side of the door, waiting. Gibbs would be out any second.
'And So it Goes'
Posts: 214
Joined: Sun Feb 16, 2003 1:07 pm

Post by Jack_Sigma »

Indeed, the door to the apartment was pulled inward as the face and then body of Gibbs appeared in the opening. Gibbs mouth was open and his shoulders rose as he filled his lung cavity with air, about to reveal to the patient and anxiously waiting audience his master’s pronouncement. In fact, Gibbs was going to start with a very theatric tone, beginning with the words, ‘The Lord Uem has decided,’ or ‘The Lord Uem deems,’ or some such. Instead, Gibbs eager eyes lit met empty hall, and did not have to search long to drift to the ground and find the dead bodies of his compatriots. By then though, Gibbs was dead. As soon as Gibbs appeared in the opening to the door, Deranz swung in, and having switched his knife hand, jammed the blade through the side of Gibbs’ body armor, between the front and back pieces, and deep into his heart. With his left hand, Deranz both quieted and pushed Gibbs back out of the way. Deranz motions were fluid and quick and the dead Gibbs was out of the now open doorway almost instantaneously, and Nezeliezer swept into the room behind Deranz, releasing another of his throwing blades into the voice box of the single guard inside the reception area of the apartment. Nezzie too followed up his throwing blade and quickly clamped the dying guard’s mouth shut as he died. Silently and with the practice of men who had done this before, Deranz and Nezeliezer dragged the five bodies that were in the corridor into the apartment. Deranz pulled a bottle of some liquid off his belt and methodically splashed it over the bloodstains in the hallway. The thick smell of ammonia mixed with some other chemical filled Deranz’ nostrils as he did this, and he fled into Uem’s apartment, closing the door behind him. Nezzie was right there and stuffed the bunched-up jacket of one of the dead guards under the door to prevent the chemical smell from entering the apartment and tipping off Uem. The entire process had taken a minute at most, and now Deranz and Nezeliezer faced the one closed door in the apartment that they needed to go into to. Both youths had knives in hand, Deranz in left, and Nezzie in his right. The looked at each other, huffed a quick breath, and launched themselves at the bedroom door, flying into the room.

The bedroom wasn’t very large, and the bed was it’s dominant feature, set up directly across from the door. A small desk and some chairs decorated the domain, along with various clutter. The bed’s sheets were a deep green color, and it looked like there were two people under the covers. The frelling coward of a Councilmember was hiding under his blankie.

The boys raised their hands that were armed with the wrist-loaded needle launchers.

“Justice is Served,” Nezzie began.

BOOM

With a crash, Uem flew out of the closet behind the boys, a thin footlong blade extended. Deranz was closest to him and spun around to meet the attack, the blade driving a shallow groove across his right shoulder and chest. He tried to bring his own weapon up, but as Uem’s knife sliced past him, the Councilman followed through and delievered a short jabbing uppercut to Deranz’ jaw with the blade-wielding fist. Taken by surprise, Deranz stumbled backwards in a daze as Uem pivoted smoothly to face Nezzie. The other youth had recovered in time and moved to block Uem’s blow, but the older man suddenly dropped down mid-motion onto his right hand and foot and brought his left foot to bear against Nezzie’s side. The youth winced in pain as Uem gathered his legs under him and launched into Nezeliezer, his fist burying deep into Nezzie’s stomach. The air vacated Nezeliezer’s lungs, but before Uem could bring the blade in his left hand around to finish Nezzie, Deranz was haphazardly throwing a punch at him. Uem didn’t even bother to try and finish Nezzie, and instead anticipated Deranz’ recovery by ducking his awkward swing and dealing three quick kidney shots to Deranz’ left side with his right hand. Uem’s left then tried to bury the knife in Deranz’ chest but the youth managed to knock his hand away. He didn’t manage though to avoid the powerful jab Uem took at his face, sending Deranz’ head snapping back and causing red spots to swim in the large boy’s vision. Deranz found himself in between Uem and the bed, a few steps apart from each. Through his muddied sight, he could see Nezeliezer still trying to regain his oxygen behind Uem, as Uem said something that Deranz couldn’t quite hear above the pounding in his ears.

Behind Deranz, the wheezing Nezeliezer saw the green sheets of the bed rise up as if a spectre had possessed them. The boy watched with horror as the sheets dropped down to reveal the head and shoulders of a naked woman, but more importantly her outstretched hands which held a blaster pointed squarely at Deranz’ back. Nezzie reacted without thinking, although his vision was still swimming. His left hand still clutched his stomach, but his right wrist snapped as an arrow-shaped throwing blade was projected on a straight path towards Deranz unseen assailant. Nezeliezer’s eyes suddenly widened in shock and adrenaline rushed through his system as he realized that the straight path the blade was on would go through Deranz!

The larger youth meanwhile grit his teeth to get his vision clear and settled into a combat stance, hoping that he’d be able to see before Uem was upon him again. A millisecond later the shapes in the room sharpened, and Deranz mind puzzled at one oddly fast-moving object in his plane of vision. Lucky for the boy, while his mind puzzled, his body, already combat ready on the balls of his feet, reacted. Deranz legs didn’t even move, but the upper portion of his body contorted and twisted, arms splayed out and back bent over, the speeding blade whizzed past Deranz and lodged itself between the woman’s breasts, pinning the green blanket covering her to her chest in a final admonition of modesty. The girl flew back, squeezing the trigger, but the long throwing blade had knocked her back, and the blaster bolt went wide of Deranz, impacting harmlessly against the ceiling. The girl herself dropped back onto the bed, a spreading black spot on her now attached green sheet a testament to the fact that she would not again rise from her repose.

By now, Deranz and Nezeliezer had both realized new degrees of awareness. Adrenaline pumped thick through their veins, awaking their senses and enhancing ever line, every sound, every motion. On his side of the room, Nezeliezer breathed deeply and evenly, fighting against the coughing sensation that threatened to sidetrack him. Deranz simply blinked a few times and wiped the blood from his mouth. Both boys stood ready, and Uem calmly and cautiously took a few steps back, so that both boys were in front of him rather than to either side. As he did this, Nezeliezer squatted slightly, eyes never leaving Uem, and picked up the knife he had dropped during Uem’s first barrage. Deranz still held his in his left hand.

The man facing the boys was not entirely what they had expected, at least insofar as he was completely different from the four Councilmen the boys had killed earlier that afternoon. Some of those men had once been thugs and criminals, but as of the day of their deaths they were politicians and command personnel. They ordered others to their dooms and reaped the rewards, but it had been a long time since any of them had participated in violence or even excessive exercise. By the condition of the man standing in front of them, the boys realized that the individual known solely as ‘Uem’ was of a different breed. Uem was barefoot and wore slack pajama pants, as well as a blast vest over his bare chest. The vest would deflect knife blows and needles and covered Uem’s front and back, but left his sides, arms and shoulders exposed. Those exposed parts though were tough and defined. Scars of all shapes and sizes populated the Council member’s arms and shoulders, as well as several tattoos of creatures Deranz had never even heard of, but those arms contained in them power, and by the loose way the hung at Uem’s sides as he gingerly stepped back, they possessed speed as well. Uem’s hair was jet black and moderately short, hanging down around his forehead and ears, but not so far down his forehead as to enter and disrupt his plane of sight. His eyes were intense coals, and his lip carried a permanent sneer, but his whole carriage screamed only one thing to the boys.

Assassin

Uem was an assassin, and at his current age of somewhere around 40 he had stayed in near perfect fighting shape. The man was a professional, and he spun his blade in his left hand as he backed up, sizing the boys up.

“So…” the old assassin drawled, “You must be… the students of Telfass Dire?”

The boys said nothing but Uem could see the assent in their eyes and posture, “Ahh, well, at least that settles the question of who’s been running the assassinations today. I really didn’t think Detrin had the nerve for it, and I guess I was right,” he chuckled, eyes shifting from one boy the other, a sickly oily quality to his words.

“Detrin?” Deranz asked, somewhat confused, “What does Huin Detrin have to do with anything, and why would he be trying to kill off the Council?”

Uem laughed, a mocking laugh, a don’t-ya-wish-you-knew kind of laugh, “You boys have some spirit, but your information stinks. And if you don’t know, well frell, I ain’t telling you.”
'And So it Goes'
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Joined: Sun Feb 16, 2003 1:07 pm

Post by Jack_Sigma »

With those words Uem shifted and was suddenly among the boys, fists flying furiously, and knife dashing in and out like a grubber’s tounge. One second Uem seemed to be feinting towards Nezzie, and the next thing Deranz knew he felt a stinging in his shoulder as he barely deflected Uem’s knife away from his neck. The blow of the knife was about the only one of Uem’s that Deranz could catch, and that just barely, so the stinging pain Deranz felt was becoming more than norm than the exception. Bit by bit as the knife continuously darted out like a coquettish mistress to gently caress Deranz, and as the brutal blows from Uem’s knees, fists and elbows piled up, Deranz started to tire. He and Nezzie were hitting Uem as well, but not as much, and not as strong. If Uem’s knife grazed Deranz here and there, Deranz’ knife never even came close to Uem, as the smaller and older man moved more dexterously than any youth Deranz had ever encountered.

Scowling, Deranz tried to recover himself, recover his concentration, recover his swagger. For the first time that afternoon, doubt had started to creep into Deranz’ and he wasn’t even sure why. That of course, wasn’t entirely the truth. For the past week, after Telfass’ death, a quiet but insistent voice kept nagging Deranz, whispering in his ear, tugging at his coatsleaves. Deranz’ arrogance had stuttered and stumbled, much as Deranz body was doing now, with the weight of his mentor and father-figure’s murder. Despite the whole situation apparently being understood and accepted by Telfass as what he wanted to do, the fact that they boys hadn’t known, had had no idea what was going to and what did happen to their closest advisor and friend burned Deranz up inside. The fact that Telfass had known about it didn’t make any difference, or even made it worse. Deranz hadn’t guessed, and hadn’t been able to figure it out, and all the information had been there, right in front of him. After the fact, it all became so obvious that the Council had to have planned this all along, but the boys had missed it, and Telfass was dead. Ever since then, that little voice had nagged him, hounded him about his arrogance, his ego, and why he and his brother in arms thought that they could single-handedly take out the entire Council in one night. Telfass had taught him better than to let these pathetic and weak thoughts influence him, but with Telfass dead, Deranz’ grieving had involved somewhat of a crisis of faith. Faith in himself.

As here was this man, this assassin, who was single-handedly ripping into him and Nezzie, and Deranz really had the thought… that thought.

Maybe we can’t really do this..?

Uem ducked an attempted punch by Nezzie and swirled to hit Deranz. Deranz shifted to block when his slowed mind realized that the blow to him had been a fake, as Uem’s knife was speeding towards Nezzie’s left hand. Nezzie was still off balance from his last blow, but managed to shift his hand just a fraction, and the sound of metal clanging on metal resounded through the bed chamber. A spark and a flash were followed by the sound of two speeding projectiles, and Nezzie stumbled a step back. Two needles vibrated gently as the protruded from the ceiling of the apartment, as Nezzie tore of his slightly burning and slashed wrist-worn firing mechanism and threw it on the ground. The action, unfortunately, required far too much time. Uem was right there, and as Nezzie avoided yet another lethal blow from the knife, Uem thundered a blow with his left to Nezzie’s liver, and followed with a right elbow upside Nezeliezer’s head. This time Nezzie didn’t crumple to the ground, but was rather projected there by a transfer of momentum from the blow. Deranz shook himself off and glared at Uem as he sent Nezeliezer flying to the floor.

Maybe we really can’t… maybe…

Fire erupted inside Deranz’ chest as his friend hit the ground, and as the sting of every cut filled Deranz’ nostrils with the smell of boiling blood. Two glowing red eyes pressed at the back of Deranz’ vision, and while fire filled his veins, ice sent the top of his skin, to his very expression into deep freeze. Not a hair on Deranz’ arm stirred as he flung the knife he had been holding to the ground, and settled into a combat stance. There was no such thing as can’t, and Telfass’ voice emerged, overcoming every nagging doubt. …no such thing as can’t… it taunted, …there’s only giving up… Deranz face set. He had been trained better than this, and this stupid philosophizing was not the way of a warrior. He had been taught to keep cool, to assess everything logically, and to be an immaculate professional. Right then and there, he and Nezzie were none of those, just two stupid kids with a few skills out for revenge. If they were going to make it any further, that had to stop. They would get there revenge, but only as professionals. As kids, they’d be dead within ten minutes. Literally.

The sound of the metal hitting the bedroom floor caused Uem to turn away from the downed Nezzie and face Deranz. The amusement in Uem’s eyes faded a little though as he saw Deranz anew, form set, body language confidant, and eyes that showed no hint of the emotion Uem had been playing with earlier.

Uem set himself back into defense posture, but before he realized it, Deranz was already there. The youth moved lithely and gracefully for someone of his size, hopping inside Uem’s unready stance and burying a fist into Uem’s ribs. Uem recovered slightly and put up an arm to block Deranz’ next blow. Deranz right fist with a powerful blow to the side of Uem’s head but hit the back of his arm though. Deranz didn’t stop, and three quick blows followed in succession to the same arm. Uem faltered and held during the first two, but the third jackhammer to Uem’s forearm made it slip slightly, and Deranz broke through and connected with Uem’s jaw, delivering a glancing blow that disoriented the assissin for a moment. Uem tried to recover by making space with his blade, but Deranz sidestepped and the faked to Uem’s gut, instead landing a quick jab against Uem’s wrist, sending his blade flying out onto the ground.

Uem looked dizzy and stumbled bending over a little, his knees wobbly as Deranz hit him again in the torso. It was another glancing blow as Uem nearly sidestepped it, and suddenly ever-familiar stars again burst through the door of Deranz’ sanity and into his vision. Pretending to be dizzy, Uem suddenly uncoiled and sprang up, quickly making up the difference between the top of his head and Deranz’ face, and headbutting the youth with the full force of his hop. This was followed by a numerous punch combinated to Deranz stomach, and another blow that reached Deranz’ chin and sent the bow tumbling down. He struggled to stand but was having serious difficulties.

“We’re done with you, assassin,” Nezzie’s voice entoned surprisingly smoothly from behind Uem, “We’re done playing. We’re done laughing. Say goodbye to your earthly vessel, and pray to someone that there’s an afterworld, because I am tired of seeing you amongst the living.”

Uem didn’t bother with any more than a smirk at Nezzie’s arrogance and moved in, but to Deranz, it was like the sound of sweet bells. Nezeliezer would never admit it, but he too had felt something at Telfass’ death. Some sense of failure or guilt or regret, Deranz would never know, but something for certain. Now, seeing Deranz’ example, Nezzie had snapped back to reality. They were professional thieves. It was their job to kill someone. And by frell, it was going to happen.

Uem flew at Nezzie first, testing the youth with various exploratory blows, some followed by attempts at haymakers or kicks. At first Nezzie looked hard-pressed to defend them all, but then it stopped. Done showing contempt for his opponent, Nezzie moved, and moved like Deranz had only seen a few people move in his admittedly short lifetime. Whereas Deranz was strong and quick, relying on the fact that a full-powered punch of his would do massive damage if he was quick enough to connect, Nezeliezer was fast and strong. He would never be as powerful as Deranz, but his quickness was a sight to behold. With weapons training and other sparring, Deranz had yet to win the majority of matches against Nezeliezer, because he could barely even land a hit.

This was exactly the trait of Nezeliezer’s that Uem was suddenly experiencing first-hand. The boy continuously ducked in and out of Uem’s guard, delivering painful but not overly powerful blows to his stomach, sides, shoulders and face. Uem couldn’t keep up, and at some point as Deranz was trying to rise to his feet he could see the older assassin just keep his guard up and stumble back under the blows, no longer even trying to attack. Nezzie kept at it, and Uem looked like he was tiring. Finally bursting out of his guard, Uem waved blow after blow towards Nezzie, all of which missed but kept the youth a step away. Finally, Nezzie tried a retaliatory blow and Uem took the hit to his left side, but his knee came up in response, missing Nezzie’s chest as it did so. Nezeliezer leaned back and then tried to duck again, when the knife that Uem had just kicked up to his hand from the floor flashed out at his left eye. Uem had stumbled to the place where he his weapon had landed and had kicked it up to himself, now slashing with his right hand across Nezzie’s face. The blade passed mere millimeters from Nezzie’s nose, but the total effort of avoidance of the blade made Nezzie slow to the fist coming at chest. He twisted again, and barely saved death as the fist blasted him a little left of his solar plexus, but sent him flying backwards in utter agony anyway. Uem took note of Deranz, still barely on one foot, and Nezeliezer, on his back on the ground a few feet away. Uem couldn’t stand to let him live longer, because the boy posed the biggest threat. He was faster than Uem and these stupid tricks would run out eventually if he kept fighting the boys back and forth.

It was here that the assassin Uem finally made his mistake.

He didn’t think that Deranz could reach his right hand before the blade flew from it, from his position across the room and barely up. He thought he had the extra split-second necessary. No one really believes that someone that big could move that quickly, and Uem fell prey to that like many others.

Uem’s right hand retracted and his wrist started a snapping motion. In an instant, Deranz had swarmed off his knees and across the room, using his tremendous gait to take three giant steps rather than running or jumping forward. In a single flowing motion Deranz knocked away Uem’s knife hand with his left, and grabbed the Council-member by his chin, pressing the palm of his right hand against the bottom of Uem’s jaw, and grasping Uem’s face firmly with his fingers. Fluidly and before Uem could react, Deranz lifted him by the jaw with one hand and slammed Uem against the wall. Two tufts of air were heard. As Deranz grabbed Uem and slammed him against the wall, the force of the blow of Uem’s body against the wall caused his adam’s apple to be a bit more sturdy of a surface than would have seen possible. As Uem hit the wall, his adam’s apple depressed the trigger on Deranz’ wrist-launcher. As Uem hit the wall, two lethally poisonous needles fired one after another into almost the same spot on his trachea where his neck met his head. Blinding pain bit into the man immediately, as Deranz held him aloft in that same spot, pressed against the wall.

Deranz felt his shirt at his waist ruffle as if in a breeze, and the clang of metal was again audible. And suddenly Deranz felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his left side. Wincing and looking down, Deranz was a little surprised to see one of Nezzie’s arrowheads sticking out of his side by one of its shorter corners. Another wince as pain pulsed from the blade and Deranz saw what it had impacted against: Uem’s own blade, which had been in his unguarded right hand, and so close to Deranz that it had actually left a spot of blood where it had touched and poked through Deranz’ shirt. Nezzie had managed to launch his blade perfectly through the gap between Deranz and Uem as Deranz held him aloft to deflect the blade the Councilman had pressed to the side of Deranz’ chest where a penetration would have definitely killed him.

Uem’s knife clattered to the ground uselessly as he finally went slack and died, and Deranz nonchalantly moved his body away from the wall and dropped it on the floor.

Deranz, restraining a smile and a cringe as he tore Nezzie’s serrated throwing blade of his side, looked up at the other youth, who was tenuously rising to his feet,

“How do you always manage to hit me?” Deranz chided through grit teeth and heaving lungs.

“Would you…” Nezzie swallowed and grinned, then coughed, “Would you rather I have let him stab you?”

ooc:/sorry 'bout stopping mid-post again, but this work-imposed bedtime sucks :P
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