Ask Ice Cold Revenge

[The Storyteller]

Their plan appeared to work for the time being, between the disabled camera and a man on the comm. There was a response complaining about having to file a report before the tech could go take a look and to hold tight at the VIP stairwell door. Meanwhile, the guard's body could be hidden in a nearby utility closet or some other corner.

Overall it bought Arla and her people a little time, but it was clear someone would show up to check things out at some point or other. There was no air of rushing from the security office, but this was an expensive apartment with important clients, and it wasn't likely they'd be all that slow about it.

Up ahead was the door- locked, of course, and the guard didn't have the keycard required just like the basement entrance. However, the console was the same as well, and the slicer Anzat was able to quickly bypass the lock and open the door.

Ahead were the stairs, going up all the way to floor 10.

@Phoenix

 

[Arla]

Arla knew that the clock had been ticking since they got into the building, and although it had probably sped a bit, the general aura in the Shadow didn't betray an urgency or the characteristic scent of fear that would mean they had been discovered.

And yet, they needed to hurry. Arla pressed on up the stairs in a hurry as the Anzat unlocked the door and the other hid the body. She knew they would lead out to the peak of the building and her target. She felt her blood boiling at the thought of this woman who had killed her mother. Perhaps not with her own hands, but it was her fault. This was a contract to be sure, but it was personal. She had found a way to be paid for her personal vendetta.

She would make her way to the top floor and find the woman responsible, and although she wished she could take her time to torture the woman into oblivious, she would have to settle for the lightsaber strike to kill her.

 

[The Storyteller]

Up the stairs was- well, uneventful. They were luxury apartment stairs, padded with hardwood that made sneaking annoying but not impossible. No one else was in the well-lit space, now in the dead of night. Arla and the others made it to the tenth-floor landing without incident.

Arla's ear comm quietly crackled to life. Careful. She isn't alone. Professionals. Nakoa's voice rumbled low in her ear, obviously trying to keep the volume down, wherever he was just then. Suppose it would be too simple the daughter of a crimelord to sleep unguarded. Nakoa was light on specifics which meant, given the silence after, he didn't have any to offer. Just a warning.

The stairway opened into the floor ten entrance lobby, which looked more like an overlarge foyer for an especially fancy house. There was only one door at the end for the suite apartment itself, the only one on this floor. The lobby's right side- where the stairs were- had collections of artwork and the light. Couches and chairs were arranged in a sitting area. On the left side, the entire wall was one massive window that looked out over Llanic's largest city.

The door was locked, of course.

@Phoenix

Spoiler: dice roll

Threat Awareness: 15/20

 

[Arla]

Arla nodded in response to Nakoa's voice over the comlink, and then realized he wasn't there to see it. Rather than actually speak out and reveal herself, she simply reached up and clicked her comlink once on and off, the cycling sound an indicator on his end that she had heard.

They were now at the upper floor and so close to her target that she could almost smell it. She could just about smell the scent of the woman's perfume in the air. She could taste her revenge in her mouth.

And yet she knew that this was the moment at which it was most precarious. This was the moment where she might make a mistake, rush the kill, or foolishly be driven out of the building.

Arla let her mind reach out into the Shadow, dipping into the galaxy unseen around her and let the spirits of the animals wash over her. She called out in her mind to the Spirit of the Chiroptix and pulled its ears to herself. She may not know where her prey was or who was with her, but she would soon. She'd know where her enemy was, what the threat was, and how best to proceed once they passed the door.

It would be easy enough to cut the lock with a saber if no one was on the other side of the door or she'd have to once again become more creative otherwise.

 

[The Storyteller]

And so Arla listened. It seemed quiet, at first, in the home of her enemy. As much as a modern home can be, save for the clear strings of violin music from somewhere in the home. The subtle buzzing of electronics and active lights, a gentle airflow of central air conditioning, wind against blast-resistant windowpanes. Then- irritable breaths, the sipping of coffee, sharp-nailed fingers over console controls, tick-tack-tick.

There she was. Governor Jade Archer, working away on one thing or another even at this hour in what could fairly be assumed was her home office. But where was the other? Arla stretched out with her senses, listening further, deeper. A cat padded across the carpeted floor toward the Governor's office, purring as it rubbed across her legs. A manual clock ticked the seconds by, one after the other, tick-tock-tick.

Another footstep, brush of fabric, shifting of weight in the living room? Then- no, wait, there was nothing there. No impression of a living thing in that space, nor the idle sounds of droid security. If Arla listened further, the same would happen again. An impression of something alive and moving just before vanishing from her senses. No more could be discovered through this application of magic beyond the vague idea of the apartment's room arrangement garnered from ambient noise and internal machinery.

@Phoenix

Spoiler: Dice Roll

Perception +3 10/20 barely success

 

[Arla]

Arla listened and let the Shadow flow through her completely. She could feel everything that happened, sense the Governor, feel her... frustration? Annoyance? The emotions were difficult to parse through, but they were irrelevant to Arla now. The woman was only a contract and nothing more.

And yet, something struck at Arla's mind. A vague sense of unease as if she were not alone, and yet there was nothing clearly discernible. She tried to think of those species whose paths she had crossed who might be able to conceal themselves from the Shadow in any meaningful way or even from her ears. The wolfmen perhaps. Or a Noghri. Another Nightsister or some Force-using assassin. If that were the case, things might become more complicated in a hurry.

She slipped the pistol from her belt and held it in her hand as the Anzati went to work on the door lock.

Governor and I suspect one other who I cannot place. Perhaps a Force-user. Be ready, she warned in a near-silent whisper. The pair of vampiric assassins had already proven their prowess, but Arla suspected it would now be put even further to the test.

It took the Anzati longer than Arla would have liked, but ultimately, it seemed he had been learning on the locks he had crossed on the way up here. Eventually, she heard the "pop" as it sprung open, and she wasted no time in pressing inside, pistol raised. She doubted the woman had cameras inside her home proper (because who wanted to be spied on in their own home), but she wasn't going to take risks.

Her mind ran like a lightning bolt, but she had many, many years of practice with this. Infiltration was one of her specialties, and she kept mindful of her mystery second visitor while she made her way in the direction of where the Governor sat up late listening to her music.

Roll: 8/20 on the lock (barely a success)

 

[The Storyteller]

Arla and her assassins stepped through the door into an expanded entryway complete with a coat closet and a hand-made wooden rack for shoes to be deposited by guests. The light above was unlit. The only illumination came from the foyer behind and the expansive bay window partially visible in the living room ahead. Neon and yellow city lights cast strange shapes and shadows throughout, bestowing odd outlines on the furniture visible through the doorway.

They moved further through, each way for the other individual within the residence. There was no sign of another. Blankets and throw pillows were arranged neatly across a vast, curving couch. Artwork lined tables and wall spaces. Several were valuable and illegally acquired cultural artifacts. Nothing less should be expected from the daughter of a Llanic crime family. In many ways, Governor Archer had never been your usual sort of politician.

No obvious threat presented itself even as the Apex trio moved closer to the closed door of Archer's office. Nothing was clear to fear as they anticipated bursting in and taking her down. No warning through the Force, no untoward sounds, no scent nor heartbeat caught by Anzati hunters.

Seyugi! Nakoa's voice harshly whispered in Arla's mind at the same moment as she'd felt a spike of unease through the Shadow. The attack came quick and quiet, but an Anzati had caught the brush of air, the spark of life nearby. When Arla turned to see, the silence of their sudden and rapid exchange was almost surreal.

Hands darted, several blows in a second back and forth. A figure in a red tunic, face covered by a hood and cloth mask, struck with blows each meant to kill or incapacitate in one go. The figure was faster but the surprise had been ruined and it was clearly outnumbered.

@Phoenix

Spoiler: Dice Roll

Seyugi Surprise: d20+1 = 7/20, sneak attack partial failure, Arla warned slightly in advance.

 

[Arla]

Arla's senses felt off as she entered the room, but still she didn't have a particular explanation for what was wrong. She couldn't place where this person was even though she was almost certain someone was there.

And then in a flash he was upon them. The Anzati who had taken the blow to the head earlier must have been slowed by the concussion, and within a moment, the Seyugi - as Nakoa had identified him - had sent the vampiric assassin crumpling to the ground. Arla could hear the sound of bones crunching under the impact of the blows, and she knew that his fate was as good as sealed. At best he was out of the fight, and more likely he was simply dead.

Time was against her now, but she was glad to see that the other of her assassins was faring better, managing to hold his own at least for the moment against the assassin.

For her part, Arla leapt into action. With an enemy this dangerous, consequences could burn. She'd kept her use of the Shadow to only the minimum, but the odds of cameras specifically in the apartment itself seemed unlikely for a variety of reasons. And it was better for the contract to fail to work out than for her to be dead.

After all, she was still daughter of Renfry and Raze, a potent Force-wielder in her own right far above that of most others in the galaxy. And beyond that, her opponent was unlikely to anticipate such an attack.

She reached out with her left hand and gripped the assassin with the Shadow as she so often did, preparing to hold him in place and slow him long enough for the Anzati to put a blaster bolt - or a couple - through his chest and send him in a crumple to the floor. He was good, there was no doubt, but Arla was not only more powerful, she also had numbers on her side still.

Who keep a personal assassin in their penthouse? she still managed to wonder from the back of her mind.

Roll: Nat 1/20 for the Anzati's defense against the attack. He ded.

 

[The Storyteller]

One Anzat crumpled while the other engaged the Seyugi. The former was spurred further by the Force-sensitivity of the red-garbed assassin, while the latter fought with the impartial efficiency their kind were infamous for. Even a blow blocked by the slicer Anzat while they went to aim their weapon, aimed to crush their sternum, resulted in a hairline ulnar fracture in their left forearm.

Arla was surely powerful, but there was still a complication. As she closed the Force around the Dervish assassin, she'd find his existence in the Shadow was unusually slippery, much like the Trench Hopper himself. She almost lost her grip, but her power and the Seyugi dealing with an armed and skilled assassin in the Anzat served as a sufficient distraction to slow them down with increasing success.

The Anzat's first shot skimmed by a rib. The next struck a vambrace, deflecting off into a wall-mounted painting. The third landed just off-center chest, flinging them back and to the ground, dead. A short and brutal fight, nothing like the legendary duels of lightsaber-armed Jedi and Sith.

But still long and loud enough at the end to warn the Governor. Arla needed to hurry.

@Phoenix

 

[Arla]

Arla saw the man go down with a pair of blaster shots, and she left him to the Anzati. She was confident if he was still alive - which she found unlikely - the vampiric assassin could finish the job.

She knew the sounds of the fight would carry to the Governor, and she wasted no time in tracking the woman down. She was a politician, and while Arla wouldn't put it past her (with her displayed levels of paranoia) to be a trained in self defense, she was still not a professional assassin.

She burst into the room at speed, clearing the doorway solely for the purpose of not presenting a stationary target in it to be shot if the Governor was armed, and already coiled the Shadow once again to strike or defend herself. For now, however, she was convinced that speed and movement were her best defenses, and if she was able to move quickly enough to take the governor before she managed to mount a counter attack, she would likewise pin her down to the ground with the Force.

She knew she didn't have time. She wanted to take slow, agonizing time in murdering the woman and drag it out for days, but she was still a professional, and this had gone from a simple revenge murder to a contracted job.

 

[Jade Archer]

In a flash, Arla darted through the entryway with senses alert and weapon ready. Her instincts turned out to be correct. Midway through the Nightsister's quick maneuver, a scatterblaster shot rang, energy pellets a-storm through the open doorway. But Arla had been well out of the way, the remaining Anzati having taken cover out of sight.

There she was, Governor Jade Archer, gray eyes flinty and cold. Flawless, well-pointed nails apparently didn't keep her from wielding a cut-down scatterblaster in both hands. Still, alarmed by her would-be assassin's speed, she stepped back away from her desk before swiveling the wide barrel back toward Arla to fire a second time.

She was prideful, intent on fighting for her life to the sound of singing violins no matter how short that fight might be. Kill or be killed was just the way of things, in the end.

@Phoenix

Spoiler: Dice Roll

Arla Perception, 1d20+2 = 19 total, completely avoided scattergun shot and got the drop on Archer.

 

[Arla]

The ear-splitting crack of the scatterblaster caused Arla's aural dampeners to kick in, protecting her sensitive ears from the misery of that blast as Arla sent a shot of her own back in the direction of the governor. Blasters weren't Arla's specialty, but they also weren't that hard to use. She'd been around blasters, energy bows, and assorted weaponry enough to at least not be uncomfortable with them.

But more important than her questionable shot, she reached out with her other hand to grip the Governor with the Shadow and yank her scattergun free from her hands before she got off the second shot. At worst, it would throw the aim off and at best, it would disarm her opponent altogether. Regardless, Arla didn't stop moving so she would also be a more difficult target, and she could get a closer position on her opponent.

With any luck, the Anzati would make his appearance soon and fire a finishing shot while Arla served as both distraction and attacker, but if not, Arla would continue her assault, firing several more blaster shots unless she was interrupted, hoping one would find its mark. If not, she'd turn back to old faithful: the Shadow that always had her back.

 

[Jade Archer]

As well as she'd been conditioned in some ways by a criminal upbringing on how to defend herself, as much as she had the attitude and an inkling of the instincts required, Jade Archer just wasn't a dedicated fighter. And she didn't even know what she was facing down was a powerful Nightsister and an Anzat assassin.

Her scattergun was pulled from her hands entirely even as she dove for cover behind the desk, one of Arla's shots striking her arm and one of the Anzat's snapping just past her face. Driven by drills she recovered the holdout blaster from beneath the desk and rose to fire from an entirely different angle. Her return shot struck the Anzat's left thigh.

The Anzat predicted the move, however, and his simultaneous shot struck her hand, sending the blaster and several fingers trailing ashen trails through the air. She let out a cry that was silenced by the follow-up shots, air blasted from her lungs by repeated impacts. All at once she collapsed with a thump to the carpeted floor on the other side of the desk from her assailants.

They were all left with the sound of labored, wheezing breath indicative of severe lung injury and the peaceful trill of violins.

@Phoenix

Spoiler: Dice Rolls

Archer Defense: 1d100+5 = 13/100, complete failure. Archer Counterattack: 9/20, mutual damage.[/spoiler[

 

[Arla]

It was a moment of violence, loud noise, and then near-silence. The smell of burning air filled Arla's nostrils, and though her final companion was injured, he wasn't felled by the damage he had taken, and Arla could hear the choking sound of death from behind the desk.

With pistol raised, Arla moved over to where the body had fallen and approached with caution. Once she was content that there was no follow up attack or weapon, she moved over next to the woman's dying, gasping body.

Her heart was pounding and she could taste the vengeance in her throat. She wanted to prolong it and make the woman suffer, but she knew she didn't have the time. And time was even more against her now than it had been before.

You killed my mother. You deserve to suffer longer than this, she said quietly, almost a whisper. She twisted her fingers in the air and let sorcery tear through the woman's mind. A simple spell, but one that would bring to life all her worst nightmares. All the things she feared more than anything else, tormented by shame, guilt, and fear.

Arla would have let her continue like this forever, but she knew she didn't have the time for that, and so she pulled the trigger and split the head of the Governor in two, ending it.

I hope you rot. No peace for you beyond the Veil, she said. She could only hope that some part of the spell would linger and the woman's soul would be tormented.

Now it was a matter of getting out of here. She checked for a landing pad for the Governor that they could load themselves and the body of their dead partner into for a direct exit. Someone as high class as a governor almost certainly had a personal speeder up here, and Arla would simply burn the rest. Burn the blood stains, the penthouse, and much of the evidence. The cameras would link back to Imperial gear, and when finally tracked down, the ship origin for the arrival would track back to Imperial space as well. It was enough to look like it was Imperial without it looking too obviously like it was Imperial.

 

[Jade Archer]

"I've had... Many mothers killed," Jade replied icily through the blood pooling in her lungs, spoken between wet gasps. "Be more specific."

Arla would not see the things Jade feared, nor the small shreds of guilt and dark secrets hidden behind her eyes. The Governor, herself, was forced to relive them all. Every moment flashed by, the worst parts of her life in those seconds before death. Notably, however, condemning Dathomir wasn't one of them. Perhaps her little trap had worked a little too well and in the wrong direction. But it'd worked.

The Empire could lie through their teeth all they liked, they were warmongers and a threat to the Consortium, to Llanic. President Thorne would never do anything about it until the Empire made it a more direct problem. So the more unlikable the Empire was, the more enemies they had within and without, the better.

Her only regret was that she was dying.

"But then..." she began, covered in sweat and blood, tears carving rivers down her face, voice fading but strong-willed as the blaster was leveled. "Was it really me?"

A sharp report and the Governor's final thoughts were scattered across the carpet, red and gray bleeding into crimson fibers.

The suite had roof access- unlocked with a keycard on the recently late Governor's person- with a speeder and a private supply of fuel. The latter would be used to burn the penthouse, leaving nothing behind. Once well away, the speeders would burn too while Apex made their escape.

@Phoenix

 

[Nakoa Singh]

Arla was met by Nakoa back at the ship with his people, boarding in silence and a couple new bandages he seemed content to pretend didn't exist. People got settled for the journey away to dispose of their ship and a switch to untracable transport. Everyone was tired, and Arla's suriving Anzat assassin went off to get their leg looked at.

In the midst of everyone separating to handle their own next steps, while a pair of droids- also to be disposed of- handled piloting, Nakoa stayed with Arla. He looked at her, unreadable as he often was after a job. Out of sight from everyone, the warmth of the Wrean's arm found its way around Arla's shoulders.

That's where it would stay until she decided otherwise.

//End Thread