Nar Shaddaa

[Vladimir Faust]

Blasting out of hyperspace, the Pale Dawn touches down in a seedier portion of the Smuggler's Moon and its occupant, cloaked and hooded in a shimmering and concealing white cape steps out. Securing his ship with a mere thought and setting its defenses in a private hanger, he exits.

 

Before reattaching his force protective little pet, a flash of insight reached Darth Lucifierian, or as he was known in his current transponder code, Lucious Flagg. He did not want any undo attention at this point as he waited for the cogs of his plans slowly turn, and grind his enemy's bones to dust.

 

Pulling himself into a bar, he kept his ears open, hearing about the return of Lord Wyhl and his plans to rebuild the Hutts stronger than before, and startlingly enough of dischord among SEED and the Imperials...placing him in a very precarious situation.

 

Taking a corner seat in a shady tavern, he waits, taking the time to think over his plans before executing them.

 

Certainly the Jedi and possibly the Republic's elite will know what I have done... But overthrowing them will be easy enough... Though throwing fresh blood at them could not hurt either...

 

In his flash of force presense, he saw a monsterous, sickly being- a bloated white spider in the middle of a web, drawing in a small fly, entangling and cacooning it, sucking it, bleeding it dry, and then injecting it with a black, rancorous venom. When it emerged from its silk cacoon, a smaller white spider set out from the web. Then a vision of Nar Shaada appeared.

 

Though not a mystic, he knew what it meant.

 

All he needed to do was wait.

[Vladimir Faust]

At first, Faust does not respond, merely drawing his hood tighter around his head as he takes another sip. The fact he was hooded, and used a small holographic shadow emitter to conceal his identity it seems did not ward off unwanted attention.

 

For another five, brief seconds, he continues to ignore Joshua. Then, in one fell move, without warning, a white gloved hand flashes out as a kick, deftly drawn back, knocks a seat forward, ramming into the back of the knees. Thrust into the chair sitting by the blow to the solar plexis and the pressure on the knees, Joshua then feels the faintest pin prick of pain, as sticking up and hidden in the folds of Faust's cloak, a long, silvery white blade levels its ever sharp point at his throat.

 

"You have sharp eyes," Faust hisses, his blue eyes blazing with a deadly light from behind his hood, watching his new friend carefully. "Too sharp. Now talk before I decide to poke them out with my little knife here," he taunts in a near silent voice. "Who are you and what is your business? Speak softly now," he cautions, applying enough pressure to send a trickle of blood down the young hunter's throat. "The last thing we want is to make a scene," he laughs in whisper.

[Vladimir Faust]

Faust's eyes glint for a second, then the blade retracts, dropping into a less obvious and lower, but still dangerous position near Joshua, now hovering it near several soft, yet vital organs in the abdomen.

 

So, was this the person my vision directed me towards?

 

"Interesting answer," Faust states slowly, "but hardly your name." As he speaks, his blue eyes study the young man carefully. "Tell me why I shouldn't just deal with you here and not waste a moment more of my time?"

[Vladimir Faust]

Faust grins, the white of his teeth flickering out beneath his hood.

 

"Very well then my nameless friend. You seem determined to learn from me or die trying." Rising up and drawing his hood over his head to hide his identity further less more unexpected guests arrive, Faust leaves his corner table and steps into the dirty streets of Nar Shaada with its degredation, crime, and moral filth. He motions for Joshua to follow.

 

"Your first lesson," Faust intones, walking through the sparsely crowded alleys and wandering in no particular direction, relying solely on his instinct, "will be to answer this question. How many types of people are there in this world?"

[Vladimir Faust]

Faust laughs. "Exactly, my young apprentice," he decides at that moment. "The skills and power for survival are all that matters. Good and evil, life and death, are just abstract terms, measuring this power. The strong, the hunters, will always prey on the weak. It is foolish to think otherwise." As he states that, he passes a group of thugs mugging and finally murdering an old man, stripping him of his assets and finally even clothes. Faust just continues walking.

 

"The task of being a hunter is to measure that power and to use it to hunt the weak. One must use everything they have, brains, weapons, geography, politics, hearts, and if one is so inclined, even the force, to keep that power and weld it. Other hunters usually use us as weapons to eliminate foes they cannot take care of themselves, so then who truly has the most power in that exchange?" As Faust speaks his right hand starts juggling a small biscuit from a suvival gear ration pack, while his other strays left towards his blaster.

 

"The essence of being a hunter lies in cultivating one's prey," he continues. "and looking out for one's survival first. Our employers will always keep the preserves well stocked, and fill it with a challenging quarry." As he speaks, he stops, noticing a small child in dirty clothes, aged about eight. The hungry boy, born and raised in the slums walks boldly up to Faust, his small, shining eyes meeting the cold blue.

 

"Mister, do you have any food?" the child asks. Faust stares down, right hand on the nutrient stick, his left on the blaster.

 

"So, my young apprentice, given that," Faust asks, still eying the boy, "with which hand should I deal with this child?"

[Vladimir Faust]

Faust's eyes close, handing the child the food. He is actually smiling as he speaks, offering an apperance of warmth. "Right answer, but for some of the wrong reasons," he intones softly, kneeling down and reaching into his coat for another food pack. The child finishes and Faust gently hands the child another.

 

"He poses no threat. In this jungle, we are kings, we are the lions. None other here have the power to challenge us. Killing would be no challenge, no effort, for he is already in our power." Faust lacked the grandiose visions of the future shared by his apprentice, which while it could be an oversight in the white cloaked hunter's own character, it had not failed him yet. He merely saw potential and how to turn that potential for his own ends, the rest of the galaxy be damned.

 

Standing up, Faust murmurs to Joshua. "And now, we have a friend for life here." Faust protectively places a hand on the child's shoulder. "He will be your fellow student," Faust decides. The child looks up at Faust with pale black eyes. Though wary, there is a deep trust and hope in them. Faust made a note not to dissapoint the boy, less his value depreciate.

 

"Come along my friends," Faust urges now, more civil, polite, but still the ruthless killer he always was underneath. "There is one more sight we need to see. It shouldn't take us long."

 

Passing by another alley, Faust stops. Four Gammorean rogues, armed with vibroaxes are threatening a scantly clad twi'lek, backed into a corner.

 

"Do what you must to kill them," Faust orders quietly, still being ignored by the gammoreans, holding the child back and speaking to Joshua. "I leave this matter into your hands. When you are done, we will begin your training in earnest."

[Vladimir Faust]

Faust watches with cold approval. "Satisfactory," he concludes susinctly, more than pleased with the results. Before the greatful Twi'lek can say anything, even to thank her savior, Faust raises his right arm and a small dart shoots out from under the cuffs of his trench coat, burying itself in her neck. She slumps over unconscious. It would be nearly half a day or more before she would awake. Without a word, Faust walks over and hefts the unfortunate alien up, determined to use her for another lesson for his new apprentice.

 

"We'll be making for Tatooine," he reports, carrying the Twi'lek in one arm and taking a slow, leisurly walk back to his ship, the boy following him and tagging at the hunter's heels. "Now, for your next lesson, tell me of yourself. Who are you truly? What drives you for the hunt? What skills do you think you really posses and have you learned from your past? When the time comes to prowl the jungles of the heavens, why will you be the lion and not the prey?" The last is asked on a note of challenge, slightly mocking in its intensity, goading a response.

[Vladimir Faust]

Faust listens carefully, having a better measure of his apprentice now. In truth, he approves greatly. That arrogance and confidence was exactly what he wanted.

 

"But," he counters, speaking softly, "the lion, in hunting its prey, will slink low amid the tall grass, hidden and waiting patiently before pouncing. Do not underestimate spying and its usefulness. Patience is a virtue Joshua, as is your natural wariness, and willingness to use others to advance."

 

For his previous attempts at undermining his enemies as Johannes Berlioz, and again as Keiran Valoria, Faust knew this all too well. Giving the Twi'lek to Joshua along with a small note, Faust takes the young boy, Zane, by his hand and heads towards his own ship.

 

"Meet me on Tatooine. I have some of my own business to take care of there. There will be a warehouse on the outskirts of Mos Eisley as indicated by that note. Take her in there and begin interrogating her. You'll find all the tools you need for a proper question and answer session inside," he adds with a vicious laugh. "Your next lesson will be to learn all there is about our friend here using your skills in torture, interrogation, and any other methods you see fit. Make her sing and make sure she's alive when I get there. See you then, Joshua," Faust adds with an amused lilt in his voice, taking the child and heading off into the Bhelliom, making for Tatooine.

[Vladimir Faust]

Davin Malcheck paces about his tiny little apartment, located in a non descript building in the lower levels. Empty bottles litter the floor and a general stink prevades the whole domicile. The ex-Imperial officer is old, his hair all grey from his messy head, to his thick, unkempt beard. He is never without a side arm. For the past few years, fear and anxiety have been clouding him, increasing with several news telecasts bringing reports of galactic disasters and murders, making him more selective about the "security jobs" he does for the petty crime bosses and smugglers running the streets, aimed at keeping his profile even lower. Despite that, he never took the effort to establish a new name, admitting a certain fatalism. There's some sense of conscience and responsibility, but most of it is just raw fear in that emotional stew... Waiting for the day the one person he wronged to come and collect what was long overdue...

[Vladimir Faust]

Davin flies through the air like a rag doll and crashes heavily into the wall, cracking the cheap plaster and exposing the interior space between rooms.

A wild, angry light enters his eyes. He expected worse to come his way a lot sooner- a lot worse, than what appeared to him to be some wild, angry red-headed wench with a penchant for using the Force, citing some unknown debt- probably from a bill he failed to pay. Crazed and desperate, he does draw his blaster and aiming more on instinct than from the skill his tremoring, alcoholic hands will allow, he fires.

[Vladimir Faust]

Davin, cowed, looks on boldly. "I'm not afraid of death, you little witch," he spits, unfortunately on Reagan, figuring he has nothing to lose. "I've had the threat of that white cloaked maniac hanging over me for years... He knew what I did to his homeworld... Ironic how our biggest success would come and he'd be beyond our control." He laughs bitterly. "So, if you're going to collect on my life, do it, and do it quickly. I'm not going to plead or beg... and when you see Faust again, tell him I'll meet him in Hell."

[Vladimir Faust]

The inside of his mind is clouded black with fear as thick and tangeble as tar, swelling into a boiling lake of hatred. As the mind is pressed apart, forcing the ex imperial to scream, images and instances from the past boil up....

 

Davin as a younger officer, receiving orders from a man in a Moff's uniform, assigning him to govern an Imperial outpost on a small world in a small, yet troubled sector of the galaxy. Behind the Moff is a very tall and imposing figure dressed in a black body suit and cape, breathing in very regular fashion out of a resperator. The Moff speaks very clearly, though he is clearly intimidated by the man behind him.

 

"We want the rats on the world under constant pressure. There are a half dozen petty criminals and worldlords vying for control. We want them all more or less evenly matched at all times. Use everything at your disposal to keep them constantly at each other's throats. We're going to use these rats in an experiment. His Majesty wants the survivors eventually conscripted for the army." A set of coordinates are given and Commander Malcheck receives his assignment.

 

Another scene enters Reagan's mind- Davin's in his officer's uniform, though he looks older by a few years. He's passing through the streets of a dusty city that could pass for Mos Eisley, if not for the all around ruined and delapidated nature of the buildings showing signs of the constant conflict. Cowed people with bowed heads hurry about their business, looking over their shoulders in fear.

 

He scans the surroundings, his attention briefly passing over four people in rags- a man and a woman, their faces concealed in cloaks, with their two children. One of them is an adorable girl, a mere toddler wrapped in dusty linens and with blond curls. Beside her is a sturdy young boy, looking on with piercing blue eyes, his own blond curls caked with dirt. Even though it was a life time ago, Reagan still knows with certainly who that young boy was, and who he would grow into.

 

Another memory presents itself. Davin is talking with a nearly feral looking child of about 10 or 11. "You will need to spy on the encampment for your boss. I have word that the warlord you're looking into will be striking back soon enough. If you do as I say you can deplete their garrison and your boss will be richly rewarded." The commander, trying to play the various warlords against each other, has just set into motion the events that would lead to the young man there retrieving the information that would cost the lives of Anastasia and her parents following the bloody raid.

 

Later, another peculiar memory presents itself. Daven is in space, aboard a massive ship- the bridge of a Super Star Destroyer. The man in the black suit and cape, speaking over his mechanical lungs, booms in his deep voice.

 

"His Majesty is upset with two of his Hands, suspecting them of treachery. They will be sent to the planet to observe the progress of the experiment. See to it that they do not leave there alive." Davin, shivering, swears it will be done.

 

The two Hands arrive, both of them covered in the dark side's aura, and both with brilliant, fiery red hair. They are a man and a woman. They were sent to find information on a suspected pair of Jedi taking refuge on the planet. They are given a small skiff to go through the acrid warzone, though the engines are sabotaged. They died when this fatal "accident" caused it to explode. Davin notes they had a daughter, as he writes the official notes of this accident into their file. Even to this day, he never made the connection to Reagan.

 

The memories fade and pass, swirling about uncertainly, leaving him wimpering on the floor with a blinding headache.

[Vladimir Faust]

Faust lands his ship under an assumed name and dissapears into the underbelly of Nar Shaada. Though he wears his familiar white trenchcoat and cortosis-Sith steel body armor, he uses a simple extension of the Dark side to drape himself. While not invisible by any means, he sets out an aura of whispering around him, casually directing passer-byes to ignore him.

 

His purpose for coming here was twofold. First, this territory fell between the cracks of the Sith/Imperial and Jedi/Rebel wars and was neutral ground as far as those parties were concerned. Second, this was still a seedy pit, awash in corruption and vice. This gave the Hunter the means to move about freely and set into motion a small plan he cooked up in the back of his mind. In the meantime, he had a Hunt to prepare.

 

As he sets a comm using a cybermental command to his ship, the Hunter locates his prey- a tall, unassuming human at about six and a half feet in height with long blond hair. The Hunter wanted his prey alive, and with a controlled effort, sneaks up behind his target and uses a controlled burst of Force lightning with the effect of a taser, dropping his target. Later, alone in a rented hotel room, Faust would begin mentally stripping his prey of everything he knew, absorbing the knowledge he wanted and leaving a few choice instructions. That done, he checks in to see if his current apprentice has left for Mustafar. He figure he would not be more than 2-3 days and would give his apprentice the time needed to get his materials before getting on with the training.

 

At present though, his hunt here would not be for life, but a for a person's soul.

[Vladimir Faust]

Faust was still busy preparing a body double from his victim, mentally draining the man in preparation for what he anticipated as a likely sell out to the rebel and Jedi high commands, when the comm came in from Aerec.

 

Faust red it and a flicker of visible anger lashed across his face, turning into a scowl as he contemplates his next move. There would be no padawan to train in the ways of being a hunter such as himself. A pity, made all the harder since that Jedi idealism would be burned all the harder into Aerec. Oh well, all the more fun to deconstruct later when he had the chance.

 

Contemplating what to do with his new mind strapped toy, Faust considers swift elimination, but decides against it, spending the remainder of the day turning him into an easily suggestable informant working for the Faust. Ostencibly, it would be for the Empire, and the Sith, but the Hunter had his own plans and wanted a tool dedicated to him. Setting his new man up with resoruces to carry out the task, Faust leaves Nar Shaada behind, vanishing into hyperspace.

[Vladimir Faust]

"Keiran" calmly takes a final sip of his wine. "There are no innocents in this galaxy, boy. If you need proof of that look around you at this cesspit. To your sorrow, Jhoren, I am a master."

 

The real Keiran Valoria died ages ago, killed by by a bounty hunter, when the hunter dropped a hospital children's ward on him, along with most of the rest of the hospital. Since then, Keiran's found the identity useful, either possesing clones for infiltration or merely assumng the Jedi robes and identity over his armor.

 

Left hand still holding his wine glass, right still on the table, "Keiran" remains calm, smiling pleasantly at Jhoren and his lightsaber.

 

In that first second the table flies off the ground from a solid kick, smashing into the Jedi, the half-filled wine glass following suit and dousing him, igniting off the tip of the activated blade. "Keiran" is on his feet in that same second, pulling off the hood and robes with a sickening tear, fulling revealing his features to all- cold blue eyes, a hard face, and burnished white armor underneath.

 

At that point, those who had not already fled, do so, running in a screaming panic. One person passes out, at least one vomits, and three more soil themselves. A handful of others cower in fear. One name echoes among all parties as they flee, screaming in terror: Vladimir Faust.

 

Saerin is swept out by the crowd and carried into the streets, leaving only Faust, Jhoren, and a handful of patrons and staff too scared or ignorant to act.

 

In the next second there is a snap-hiss as a blue lightsaber the same color as Faust's chilly eyes springs to life, and the metallic grate of an oddly colored Sith sword drawn from its sheeth.

 

In that third second, the distance is closed, and the Hunter unleashes a series of deadly, dazzling strikes at the burning Jedi Knight, set to rend him into three seperate pieces.

[Vladimir Faust]

Faust snarled as he attempted to complete his series, eyes glinting as Jhoren evaded. As he recovered to launch a strike, the Hunter found himself thrown back as a hard wave of force caught him in the chest, sending him off balance and skidding on his heels. He raised his Sith Sword to keep his defense up, holding his left arm with the saber back to keep balance. Landing firmly on his feet almost three meters away, he swayed to steady himself, angered at the attack.

 

"I sense fear in you, boy. Kirana should have trained you better!" he stated, sensing Jhoren gather his wits and nerves, using this moment to recover his balance fully. "Your vaunted training has done precious little to prepare you for this!"

 

With that, Faust's lightsaber flies, spinning out of his left hand, seemingly towards Jhoren, only darting away at the last second- cutting across the bar and behind it, shattering and igniting stacked bottles of cheap, high content alcohol and cleanly taking off the head of a stunned barkeep and all too slow serving droid unfortunate enough to be in the way. As the saber spins onward, embedding itself into a metal wall; Faust's right hand points the tip of his sword at the fledgling inferno behind the bar counter, sending a shower of fire and shattered, broken glass swirling around the Jedi with a mighty pull of telekenesis.

 

"Burn, whelp!"

 

Clenching his fist, he pulls his still active saber out of the wall, intending to skewer the beleaguered knight from behind.

[Vladimir Faust]

Faust takes a defensive step back, raising his Sith sword into prime to defend his face from the onslaught pushing back with a Force shield, pushing back with telekenesis at the wall of debris he set in motion. His left hand extends, quickly summoning back his lightsaber.

 

The telekenetic push fight ends with the onrush of sprinklers, extinguishing the flames. The glass and debris fall to the floor, and Faust's attention turns to the newcomer at the door way. A surprise, and one that once more brought elation and anger in equal measure.

 

"Ahhh... Kirana Sunrider," a slow smile spreads on his face, his eyes so cold now the burn. "I was hoping to see you, after I mailed your padawan back to you, piece by piece. I can carve up the both of you together." The grin takes hold, laughter echoing from his mouth. "It's been a long time.... when was it last? Ah yes, Coruscant! Eight hundred billion served! Care to witness a repeat?"

 

Faust's eyes narrow as the attack strikes, hitting him, causing his head to spring back. The call for surrender echoes in his head, calling as well for remorse. One face comes to mind, almost allowing headway for Kirana's attack, but it passes, and the Hunter's heart hardens, batting the attack aside with some effort. Pride and arrogance return full force, those slain a mark of his power in his mind.

 

"A valiant effort, Jedi," he spits, wiping the onpour out of his face. "Do you think I'd even begin to feel remorse after all I've done?" The grin widens. "Catch!" Faust hurls back his own mental attack, giving Kirana just a sample of what he's done.

 

Images, sounds, and smells suddenly pop back- Coruscant's rubble strewn surface comes to mind, followed by countless other tragedies- families ripped apart, people of all kinds and races, begging, pleading, fighting, or calmly accepting death. Death that is slow and agonizing, death that is fast, but messy. Then other atrocities and violations of the worst kind swarm back.... the smell of gore, and fear leech into the air, stinking with nausiating detail... all just a taste of what Faust had to offer.

 

Despair, and admit your powerlessness!

 

*****

 

From the roof of the cantina, a half-dozen small orbs drift down, espying Jhoren from afar. They watch beningly at first- only reporting his movement on the cantina roof.

 

A black shadow passes overhead quickly, and with a horrible, roar, the sound of a massive chain gun can be heard firing, cutting a line across the roof, leading Jhoren on as the remotes spring to life, each firing a laser blast ahead.

[Vladimir Faust]

Faust withstood Kirana's mental attack, merely smiling at the pretty image he showed her. Her efforts to burn away his darkness, long there before he even pursued the Darkside of the Force, sunk like a single lantern into a tar pit, sparking, but ultimately swallowed in an unfathomable black mass. A few witty retorts about how justice was an illusion and only strength was the true measure bubbled to mind, as well as the simple fact that as long as people kept rebuilding, the cycle would be continue, and that men like him would always ignite the tinder-box of the galaxy until at last it burned to nothing.

 

Instead, he gathers his anger, avoiding the battle of retorts and snark for the simple reason that in a duel of mental energy and will, Kirana's knowledge surpassed his own. Oh, he knew how to rape someone's mind and rebuild them, and was excellent at Dun Möch, if not the current best in the galaxy, but against this, it would be a losing battle in the long run when there were still the knight and his padawan whelp to deal with.

 

Action, direct and simple was needed. A faint buzzing echoes in the back of his head, like static. Anger spikes, realizing he was partially cut off from this ship. No matter... His eyes close for a brief, quarter-second, delving into the future, trying to sense his ship's bio-components through the Force... and he smiles.

 

"You fail to realize one thing, Jedi," he grates, "For as much as you rebuild, as much as you attempt to fight, there are always far, far worse consequences, and more at stake from your actions than you realize!"

 

*****

 

The Bhelliom, aware of the massive jamming in the area, halted, trying to fight through the static and jamming to locate its source. Though deminished, visual sensors pick up the sight of an ion rocket. It immediately goes into evasive action, and fires back one of its own rockets- a diamong boron missile. The rockets shoot past each other in the air, the ion rocket clipping the Bhelliom in one of its wings, sending it spiralling away like a wounded beast to retreat as it assessed the damage.

 

The diamond boron missile however, strikes home, veering away from the cantina enough to protect its master, then creating what amounted to a beyond massive ball of fire and destruction, leveling entire blocks of the city of Nar Shaada- destroying the droid that fired the rocket, its jammer, thousands of lives, and left a budding wall of fire and destruction that now raced towards Saerin and Jhoren in the streets...

 

*****

 

Anticipating the strike from his ship, Faust kept talking, his hatred rising up, charging in his right hand full of energy.

 

"The difference, is you care about those consquences. I merely use them to my advantage and-" Faust stops in midsentence, then leaps into action, literally, chaging towards Kirana across the soaked floor of the bar his face gleaming from the downpour the sprinklers caused.

 

About three meters from the Jedi witch, he strikes downwards with his Sith sword, using it like a pole vault to spring himself into the air, and unleash a massive, overpowering torrent of Sith lightning through the soaked floor of the bar.

 

From his vantage point in the air, Faust watches the ground light up, shocking the few remaining droids who explode from the energy discharge- and as the building- walls, ceilings, and floor, all shake violently from the shockwave of his missile launch- enough perhaps, to throw a Jedi master off balance and into the energy charged water for what would be a painful surprise. Landing on a table, he immediately springs forward again, bringing both blades down to finish off the Jedi witch, determined to press his attack.

[Vladimir Faust]

The Bhelliom retreated quietly into a back alley. Its cockpit opened up and several small silvery tentacles emerged, snaking through the air to examine the damage done to the wing hit by the ion rocket. The ship remains relatively undisturbed, picking up a jamming device in the distance. It hardwires a dozen more remotes, which then deploy to try and hunt down the source of the disturbance- and if possible, Jhoren and his apprentice Saerin. Regretably, a handful of curious natives approach the downed ship- one is dismembered by the silvery appendages and fried to a crisp by electroshocks, and three are retired with three quick bursts of chaingun fire.

 

With that, the ship resumes checking over damage in lieu of its absent master.

 

*****

 

Faust, already in action and ready to leap as she drew her slug thrower, discharged his Force lightning blast, springing up and aside to avoid the first two shots, feeling their air ripples as they whistled by. Too close for comfort, but as he landed on the table to spring closer, he formulated a quick plan of action.

 

As he made his jump to rend her to pieces, he anticipated that Kirana would try to shoot him point blank as he sailed through the air towards her table. It was what he would have done- using a potent ranged weapon against an opponent wielding a melee weapon.

 

Smiling, he pointed his Sith sword at her gun in mid-flight, and using it as a focus, put out a split-second kenetic Force shield to stop the bullets- right at the very end of the barrel of the slug thrower where the projectiles should have exited. The kenetic force feedback was easily enough to drive Faust back in mid-air, but also enough to back up the slug-thrower and its armor piercing rounds with pure force, resulting in a nasty backlash and explosion as the barrel burst apart, rendering the gun useless. All in two split seconds since leaping off the tabletop.

 

Thrown in mid-air by the kenetic backlash for an extra second, Faust hangs, then lands, kneeling at the table, just before Kirana, painfully aware of her ignited dual lightsabers. The energy of the Force lightning mostly grounded out, he lands with a splash, feeling residual tingles from the energy meet his armor. From kneeling his raises his Sith sword defensively and points his lightsaber up at Kirana. Grinning venomously in that same second, he activates the sonic blaster in his lightsaber with a flick of his bare, mechanical thumb, catching Kirana point blank in its destructive field.

[Vladimir Faust]

Mere moments after Kirana and Jhoren left the ruins of the cantina, a wide, all encompassing thermonuclear blast takes off the very end of a stray lock of silver hair blown back by a foul smelling wind. The term close is an understatement, as the duo came within centimeters of being vaporized.

 

The question of course, is how?

 

It goes without saying that losing his hand hurt, and hurt a lot. Far from the worst pain Faust experienced, it hurt physically, and it hurt his towering pride even more. A scream of unbridled rage echoed as the witch's lightsaber took his unguarded, natural hand off, followed by shock as her filthy knight-padawan caught him off guard and slammed him into a wall.

 

With seconds to act before the roof and wall fell atop him, Faust acted by first dropping his saber and summoning his sword back to him by pointing with his stump, his real hand still morbidly clutching the hilt, then drawing a disruptor pistol and blasting a hole in the floor at the last second.

 

The end result had Faust crash through what use to be floor and pipes, disintigrated by the energy blast. Landing roughly on his hand and legs in a dingy, slimey sewer, he gathers his saber and sword, sheathing that latter again, with the hand still attached. Beyond pissed, he activates a thermal from his belt and tosses it, running like hell.

 

So, when the explosion clears, new rubble falls atop the sewer opening, burying Faust's passage, and the Jedi narrowly evade his trap.

 

And what of Faust?

 

Still angry beyond reckoning, this injury made it personal. Being bested martially made his rage burn, causing a chill blue fire to light his eyes. They would pay! He would murder them all, then hunt down their relatives, clone the bastards, then murder them again... for starters.

 

First, he needed to assess his injuries, hurrying away briskly. The wound at least cauterized itself, and he knew enough chop surgeons who would reattach it.

 

At about this time the remotes reached the second jammer and destroyed it, giving him access to his ship. He contemplated nuking the area in a salvo of fire, but he wanted these deaths to be personal. He wanted to see them die, slowly. Too quick, too impersonal. Emerging from the sewers, the black shadow passes overhead- Faust leaping with the Force to board it, the cockpit snapping open to greet him.

 

He merely deposits his ruined hand and dons his trenchcoat with its cache of weapons, turning around towards the spaceport.

 

Afterall, that whelp said they were there to refuel? He would wait for them, after leading them on a merry chase.

 

Leaping out of his ship which speed off to act as a decoy and trick the Jedi, having it spew laser fire down in its wake, cueing the ship to project taunts in his usual voice to give the impression he was piloting the beast. Faust observes the flames spreading from his vantage with glee. He lands gracefully atop the spaceport, his eyes widening in malicious recognition at a figure heading towards one of the starports.

 

The padawan! Jhoren's little *****!

 

He doesn't draw his lightsaber. Too clean. He wanted this to be messy and to leave no mistake about what happened. A pity there wasn't a refrigerator handy to stuff the body into as well. Instead he draws a custom flechette launcher he can use one handed and leaps down, emerging standing in front of Saerin, a good five feet from her, his one good hand leveling the flechette at her, the cauterized stump of the other pointed as well, crackling with energy.

 

"I don't know your name, luv, but I know you came in the company of the Jedi," he announces cheerfully. "A pity your master let you go out on your own. You're going to die here. I want your anguish to be the last thing he feels." Still smiling, almost warmly, Faust squeezes the trigger, unleashing a cartridge of flechettes at Saerin.

[Vladimir Faust]

Faust squeezes the trigger, watching the lethal rounds pour out. In his mind's eye of the Force he can watch everything thrice- once as it happens, once as he senses it, and once in the future tense. The blood, the death, the anguish!

 

It would glorious!

 

Only that reality failed to bend to his will. Gritting his teeth in a snarl, he half contemplated if he should have shot first, immediately realizing it was not enough. He wanted anguish, physical, mental, and spiritual visited on his enemies. His pride would allow for nothing less than their utter ruin. As she moves forward, he makes the motions to step back, increase distance. Distance in a melee fight, something as simple as footwork, can make the difference.

 

Only he failed to stand profile and allow himself a the time for a retreat. Too caught up in what should be, he let his gun be destroyed by the blast sword. He feels it reverberate in his hand, and shields his face with his ruined right arm, hurling the gun aside as discs fly out. His armor protected the cybernetics in his hand, so no loss. Of course, it gave that worm time to escape and use her pyrotechnics to create a diversion.

 

The scent of blood and fire followed. He smelt it. Above all, the beast inside hungered for blood. He smelt hers from where her shots connected, and.... his blood as well.... dripping from under his right eye by a stray disc. He instictively licks up the blood, savoring the flavor, his nose enjoying the smokey odor of destruction. The second time today he bled his own blood?

 

"Oh, you're going to pay for that," he hisses, watching her flee. He breaks in a low, cackling laugh and with determined strides, he chases after her- not running, but power walking with surety, raising his hollow right arm after her. "You want to play with fire?" he screams, walking up to the fire wall. "Oh, I'll show you fire!" Grinning, laughing, he spots her through the flames, bending his hatred on her. At that instant, an unseen and powerful force grips the fleeing wench- as if clasping her roughly around the torso and pulling her back to the fire, lifting her just off the ground.

 

Slowly, he reels her in, roughly dragging her toward the wall of fire she made, intent on roasting her alive like a pig stuck on an invisible spit.

 

"The flames are beautiful, no?" he almost giggles, enjoying the prospect. "According to some myths, it was the gods' gift to men. In others, it symbolizes eternal torture," he states, slowly pulling her closer, instinctively measuring words that would hurt. "Fire is will made manifest! To burn, to cleanse, to cull. It is the ultimate act of power, one that sustains itself prepetually, consuming everything it can, and yet, it is a natural force, a force of nature's laws and of man's nature. Contemplate this as your creation, your fire, consumes you!"

[Vladimir Faust]

Faust was not unaware of Jhoren and Kirana's approach, having more senses than five, as well as the ability to detect snipers and other sneaks- tactics Faust himself favored. The mental blast, calling him a bastard, pure flattery, only made him more focused on proving his point.

 

Your friends girl, are ruthless in trying to stop me. They are fires like me!

 

Drawing Saerin in, letting her contemplate what he spoke of on the nature of fire, destruction, and man, he acts. Standing at the edge of the flames himself, he reaches out at the last second with his left arm, extending it. Pain sensors in it lets him know what he should be feeling by reaching through the fire, and his armor takes on an almost pink tinge- grabbing Saerin by the neck with his guantlet covered hand and whipping her around quickly though the flames unhurt. Despite the pain, he smiles in glorious anticipation.

 

Rather than hoist her or throw her into the fire, he pivots at the last second, and with a grin soley for Jhoren's benefit, lets the girl take the brunt of his attack- in this case, thrown metal crates, callously holding her out as a human shield and making sure they hit her both squarely with a sickening crunch, then steps aside to let her absorb the shock of Kirana's stunbolts.

 

Dodging, defending, or other means could have easily availed him to avoid those attacks, but he chose this method simply for its perverse nature. Still using the girl as a shield, he calls out loudly.

 

"Children are easy to break, Kirana! Yet the shame of injuring her is not mine... Jhoren!"

[Vladimir Faust]

"Cowardice?" Faust mocks, altering his voice mechanically so Saerin's voice, cruel and plantative, fills the air. "You should know, Jedi-boy, that there are no innocents ever." He backs up slowly, holding her tightly by the neck, eyes searching around, flashing a grin at Kirana on her perch. "Until the galaxy realizes that," he states, using his normal voice, "I feel free to do as I please." Faust's eyes dart, catching a ship as it lowered to the ground, doing a double take with the realization it was aiming at him.

 

"As it is, I find it much more useful to keep the girl alive... for now." A rather benign, even sickeningly smug smile flashes on his face. His hands clench and tiny molecule thin slivers of corusca gems slide out from under his artifical fingernails through slots in the glove- sharp and hard as anything in the galaxy, letting a visible trickle of blood flow from the girl's neck as a warning and to tighten his hold on her- in the next second they could extend fully, or cut her worse if she was ripped away with the Force. "You're a hypocrit, as are most of the Jedi. Using your ship in a lightsaber fight? Sniping from a distant locale? And you accuse me of fighting unfairly?" He laughs. "Don't play the fool, boy. When it comes down to it, you're either alive or dead, and nothing else matters. At least have the guts to acknowledge that."

 

Still backing up against a building wall about a story high, holding onto Saerin by the neck, he smirks, eyes and Force senses studying Kirana, Jhoren, and the ship. "Here's my proposal. Throw down your weapons, you and your master. Surrender, and I'll recall my ship, which is still leveling half the moon as we speak." In truth it was already making a return, locking its lasers on Kirana's rooftop perch, chaingun aimed at Jhoren, and ion cannons on the new ship, all ready for one massive burst- and if they took his life somehow, a missile salvo. "No more so-called-innocents murdered, the girl keeps her miserable life and you and your master... well, are you willing to sacrifice your lives to save others... or is your Jedi oath and code a hollow thing? Show me, or are you both determined to have my blood at the cost of this woman's life, and the life of everyone else on Nar Shaada?"

[Vladimir Faust]

Faust laughs, speaking what he believes to be the truth. "I've told you before, Kirana, there are no innocents. People are born corrupt, die corrupt, and the beast is inside everyone. Suprisingly enough, I do keep my word every now and then, or I would not have made it as the best bounty hunter this galaxy ever knew!" Still brandishing Saerin like a shield, he laughs. "Now, either surrender at once or I wi-"

 

The sudden return of the static jamming rushes in like a buzzing sound in Faust's mind. Even as a low, angry growl buzzes up his throat and his arm moves to speak, he goes... blind? Screaming in rage, he tosses Saerin aside, throwing her violently towards Jhoren, eyes snapping shut as he tries to move. Aware of the jamming, he can hear his ship getting off one last burst of laser and chaingun fire at their respective targets before taking off evasively. More than anything, it associated the static now with the ion rockets and did not want to deal with those again.

 

For Faust himself, he jumps backwards with the Force, landing on the roof of the building behind him, sight still clouded, and the sickening taint of that Jedi's aura in her mind.

 

"You bastards will pay for this!" Rather than stopping to give a dramatic pose as he delivers his threat, he does it prudently on the run, and while tossing several tiny, almost invisible marble like sphere off the roof behind him in a wide spread, where the VICE- violitile incindiary capsule explosives- detonate with a loud roar around the starport and its fuel lines.

[Vladimir Faust]

((A fun duel, but I'm thinking of calling it a day on this. Good fighting- and resourceful posting, all of you.))

 

Making a hasty retreat as the docks ignited behind himt, Faust's good sense told him to leave off and leave matters be. Arrogance, pride, and the desire for revenge however, overrode this.

 

Still trying to shake the lightsided taint from his mind, he stills himself, trying a method of shielding his Force presense to at least give himself come level of comfort. That nausiating calm and unnatural serenity associated with the so-called light almost made him want to empty his stomach right now.

 

With his ship inaccessable due to Kirana's jamming device and not wanting to incur the headache that would result from fighting through the jamming, Faust concluded he would need to escape the area and regroup. The Jedi were gone on the YT-2400 and persuit was not feasible at this point in time.

 

Quietly dissapearing into the back alleys of Nar Shaada, Faust considers his next move- to get his ship back where it was likely resting safely in some back alley or hangar/safe house, and to hunt down the Jedi and end them.

 

Hunting down the jamming source was not too hard and done in short order, and Faust made slow work of Kirana's accomplice- also making sure to leave a lovely message for her written in blood as warning. His anger cooled somewhat, Faust glanced down at the ruined stump of his right hand, realizing he waisted more than enough time on this. The Jedi would pay, but this was a diversion. Fun to a degree, but he had more important matters to tend to- also concerned that this opening would give the Rebels time to approach and descend.

 

Locating his ship at one of his safe houses in the lower levels, Faust's next trip is to a street doc- using a combination of credits, mind wipes, and coercion to get the hand reattached in a satisfactory manner, though it would be stiff for some time, requiring medicines for the nerves to slowly heal. Vain as ever, he has skin grafted over the scars caused by the lightsaber.

 

Walking back to his ship, trying to relish his small victories to chill his burning rage, Faust jumps in and departs with haste, pulling into hyperspace.

 

Someday, when he had the leisure, he would get his revenge.

[Vladimir Faust]

Faust lands his ship on the smuggler's moon, mindful to keep his presence low key. The usual safeguards were in check, false transponder, identification, and so on. After some of the chaos from his last visit he felt certain he would not be entirely too well received. His right arm, his good arm, gives an involuntary twitch from where the Jedi severed it last time.

 

There would be payback for that eventually, no two ways about it.

 

Pondering over what he found on Tatooine, he draws himself up into a dark grey hooded cloak and robe. While white was his preference, he did not want to play his hand here. A bit of make up as well, and he came out as a dark skinned, black haired individual- though one might be able to make out the faint contours of his specialized armor under the cloak and robe. Above all, he did not bother with contact lenses, so his eyes shown with their unnatural coldness and frosty blue fire.

 

On landing, he picks up something unnatural, twisted, and full of the dark side, thus a sense of rightness fills his senses. The girl was here. While he could sense the Force ties binding her to Ason, their resonnance still struck a cord with him. Mentally feeling the puppet strings out, he could draw closer to the end on which Terra dangled.

 

This should have been Vothe's job, but since the agent departed out of the blue, Faust felt the need to make sure the agent kept in line. And if back up was needed, well... A vicious smile runs across his face, relishing the thought of some blood letting.

 

Keeping to the shadows, he notices a crowd dispearsing itself in a rather hurried fashion. Silently, he reaches into his robe and dispatches two remotes to scout out the area ahead. The orbs take flight on their silent repulsors, beaming their feedback cybermentally back to the Hunter.

 

Sure enough, it was Terra, standing over what looked to be an exploded Ewok carcass. A figure in a black trench coat made her way on to girl in plain sight and the remote picks up a second agent. Faust frowned, his senses picking up a sniper somewhere. Sure enough, one of the orbs picked up the sniper's location up on the roof top. No action there yet, so it looks like, bloody Ewok aside, matters were under control.

 

For a moment Faust contemplates action or possibly some assistance in case the sniper decided to act, though ultimately, he concludes to let matters play out as they would unless absolutely necessary. As on Tatooine, he did not wish to play or reveal his hand in these matters. Besides, he wanted to see what this agent could do on her own, though the vicious execution of the Ewok, which looked as if it just exploded, offered great promise. Resigning himself to the shadows, he would watch.

 

EDIT 11/14/10

 

A sudden change of heart, coming the moment he decided to watch occurred. Confident in Terra's abilities to resolve matters, as well as his eyes and ears with the remotes watching from the skies, Faust, still in the shadows, withdraws, content to let matters play out as they did before without his intervention. With his link to the battle via the remotes, he would know what happened. As it was, this was originally Vothe's job and the Hunter had far too many other tasks to tend to rather than waiting for this cat and mouse game to play out- after all, what was a cat and a mouse to a ravenous wolf?

 

Slinking back to his ship just as quietly as he arrived, Faust takes back off into hyperspace.