Talak hated everything. Her statements made him irrationally angry. He wanted to destroy things again and vent his bloodlust all over again. The idea of everything he'd done going to waste and those girls facing a worse fate all over again enraged him. He wanted to go through and slaughter each and every person who had been involved. He wanted to stop that from happening. He wanted to set up a network to get them out.
But he knew he couldn't. He was helpless again, destined to watch someone else endure agony because he wasn't strong enough. And just like that, he was watching Zatara die all over again.
Hate was flowing through him, and he buried his head in his hands before running them through his hair, pulling at it and gripping fistfuls. His face was still looking at the ground and from her perspective it would look like he was in some sort of agonizing pain.
All this and for what? He'd let the dark side have its way to save those people, and it was all for loss. It might have even made things worse. Satisfying his own bloodlust wasn't a good enough reason. Not for him.
In a flash, he was on his feet and his fist lashed out and slammed into the holoprojector hard enough to leave a dent in the casing and cause the display to flicker for a moment. It should have broken a normal person's hand and no one should have been able to move with that speed and force. It betrayed that there was something unnatural about him once again, but what it was, wasn't so clear. At that moment, Talak was beyond caring.
WHAT'S THE SHABLA POINT?! he screamed at the top of his lungs. It wasn't clear if it was directed at her or not, but it was the first time he'd lost his temper so clearly in front of her, and although the look in his eyes wasn't quite as murderous as the warehouse, it would no doubt be unnerving.
As quickly as it had come, it was over, though. He stopped himself dead in his tracks, half of his fingers steepled across his nose and taking a deep breath in. Unless she spoke, there would be silence for a moment before he finally spoke again. His voice was quiet but shaky as he tried to regain his composure. The side ruled by logic and calculation returned, still cursing himself for all of this.
We need to get the holodata back or they'll come after you, he said. That much he knew to be true. Whether they could do anything about the slaves or slavers was up in the air. He could probably track the Barabel, but more than anything, he knew that there was a single mother and a boy on the line who he knew. Neither of them may have liked him, but he wasn't going to let the Cartel's have them.
You've always been too weak to save the people you care about. Why would this be any different? He knew the voice he was hearing in his mind had to be his own, but somehow it sounded like his old Master. The man he detested beyond any words.
But he knew he couldn't. He was helpless again, destined to watch someone else endure agony because he wasn't strong enough. And just like that, he was watching Zatara die all over again.
Hate was flowing through him, and he buried his head in his hands before running them through his hair, pulling at it and gripping fistfuls. His face was still looking at the ground and from her perspective it would look like he was in some sort of agonizing pain.
All this and for what? He'd let the dark side have its way to save those people, and it was all for loss. It might have even made things worse. Satisfying his own bloodlust wasn't a good enough reason. Not for him.
In a flash, he was on his feet and his fist lashed out and slammed into the holoprojector hard enough to leave a dent in the casing and cause the display to flicker for a moment. It should have broken a normal person's hand and no one should have been able to move with that speed and force. It betrayed that there was something unnatural about him once again, but what it was, wasn't so clear. At that moment, Talak was beyond caring.
WHAT'S THE SHABLA POINT?! he screamed at the top of his lungs. It wasn't clear if it was directed at her or not, but it was the first time he'd lost his temper so clearly in front of her, and although the look in his eyes wasn't quite as murderous as the warehouse, it would no doubt be unnerving.
As quickly as it had come, it was over, though. He stopped himself dead in his tracks, half of his fingers steepled across his nose and taking a deep breath in. Unless she spoke, there would be silence for a moment before he finally spoke again. His voice was quiet but shaky as he tried to regain his composure. The side ruled by logic and calculation returned, still cursing himself for all of this.
We need to get the holodata back or they'll come after you, he said. That much he knew to be true. Whether they could do anything about the slaves or slavers was up in the air. He could probably track the Barabel, but more than anything, he knew that there was a single mother and a boy on the line who he knew. Neither of them may have liked him, but he wasn't going to let the Cartel's have them.
You've always been too weak to save the people you care about. Why would this be any different? He knew the voice he was hearing in his mind had to be his own, but somehow it sounded like his old Master. The man he detested beyond any words.
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