Ask The Price of Freedom

[Crix Dolan]

There it was. This wasn't just an assassination, this was a rescue. Dima was the real goal of this venture and Crix's expandability shot through the roof. He'd walked into a den of killers thinking he was the threat, now he was the target.

Fuck.

Crix's mind calculated the moves he'd need to make to take the two guards at the door. That wasn't the hard part, the hard part would be stopping Kirigan. The moment the excitement started the spider would make a run for it, and if Crix had to juggle the blade of Ines at the same time as dealing with everything else, well, he'd be a pin cushion before he could open fire on the guards.

His pulse drummed in his temples as his masked face met Ines. The Assassin was positioned directly in front of Kirigan. Then suddenly he had a plan. Crix widened his stance his hands settled on his blasters and he started counting the seconds. Everything had to go perfectly, or he was dead. The blind faith he was taking in a killer made no sense, but there wasn't another option.

Crix's adrenal glands were wide open, the indentured servant who'd tried to serve him wine shook with fear the still full glass teetered. Ines was impassive, unreadable, and his only hope. Was this it, was this the end of his revenge, would he die another disenfranchised human whose anguish would never know vindication?

The glass of honied wine tipped. A flurry of motion went into action. Crix's hands moved with practiced precision as he flourished the guns out of their holsters slapping the stun lever and firing in the breath of heartbeat. His blasters spit stun bolts aimed directly toward Ines center mass. He hoped beyond hope they'd come to the same conclusion he had, that they'd seen possibility where hope was bearly a glimmer.

@Song

 

[Karina Safin]

Karina had a vague understanding of what to do. She saw it in the stance Crix took, the way his shoulders tightened and the slight shift in his gaze—not at her, but at Kirigan, seated comfortably ahead of her. You sly dog, she thought. Just as understanding clicked and the glass of wine tilted over, she threw herself aside and reached for the knives tucked up her sleeves. In that split moment, she could almost catch the surprise in Kirigan’s face, the glint in his eye, just as Crix fired two stun bolts his way.

Glass shattered. Men shouted and jumped for their blasters. Too late. By the time both guards at the door so much as grazed their holsters, she had a knife embedded in their necks. They crumpled soundlessly to the floor, blood and wine spreading over the patterned rug stretched across the room. But Karina didn’t stop there. She had a feeling it would take more than two bolts to take the old man down, and as she whirled around to face him, she was right.

He must have expected this kind of betrayal, because he’d managed to tank the first stun bolt in his right arm, leaving it helpless, while he dodged the second one aimed at his chest. It left him fully conscious, but paralyzed enough to keep him from running—just enough for her to leap across the table and bring a third knife to his neck.

Karina didn’t kill him though. She couldn’t. Not without knowing where her brother was, or whether he was safe or not. “Where is he?” she demanded. “Where is Dima?”

Kirigan watched her closely. If he was afraid, he didn’t show it, and instead he looked at her with a strange mix of wonder and amusement, his mouth splitting into a smile. “My, my. You are so much faster than I last remember. Same with your little friend. Maybe I underestimated the both of you.” She pressed the knife against his flesh, drawing a trickle of blood. “Stop babbling and tell me where you’re keeping him, and maybe I will consider not opening your throat.”

“Fine,” said Kirigan. “You want to see your brother so bad?” He raised his left hand, where he was gripping a small button that he pressed before she could even blink. Karina recoiled suddenly. She wondered if it was a bomb, a comlink that’d set the whole club ablaze with panic and alarm, but she turned at the sound of a door hissing open, like a cage being unlocked. On the other side of the room, cold mist rolled out from the door, followed by a tall figure covered in some kind of armor from the neck down. A boy, with ruddy hair and sharp eyes like hers.

“Dima,” she whispered. He was here. Alive. No, different.

@Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

His dancing weapons spit stun bolts one after the other. Kirigan reflexively threw up a hand and was rewarded with partial paralysis; however, he managed to slip the second shot and retained his ability to monologue. Ines had seen the plan and followed through. Both guards behind him were gurgling as their final breaths were drawn.

Ines was on Kirigan. Their knife was in their hand and at the villain's throat, but it wasn't fear in the man's eyes. It was... something else. A button was pressed and a hidden door hissed open revealing a young man in armor from the neck down. Their skin was sickly pale and etched with ink-black veins that stretched up his neck and cheeks coalescing around his eyes.

The whisper that escaped Ines mouth nearly broke Crix's heart.

Dima.

As if his name were his ignition, Dima's eyes snapped open. Their intensity made Crix take a step back as the glowing violet hues bore into Ines. Pain, confusion, anger, dismay, and finally hate played across Dima's face before a guttural roar bellowed from his maw. The raw power of his scream knocked Crix on his ass, and the sound of Kirigan's laughter sent a shock of fury through him.

Try as he might Crix couldn't move, what did this mean, what had Kirigan done to Dima? Before he could put any further thought into it the being rushed forward.

Moving faster than humanly possible Dima was on Crix and delivered a kick to the downed Smuggler that sent him sliding across the floor, only coming to a stop after plowing through a number of art displays.

@Song

 

[Karina Safin]

“No!” she shouted as Dima threw aside the smuggler, sending him crashing through a row of art displays until he crumpled at the feet of a wooden sculpture. Fear and uncertainty swirled. What had happened to him? Something had changed in her brother, and it was not his age or height but his very being. Between his purpled eyes and his bruised knuckles, he looked like an entirely different person. Nowhere near the boy she’d raised and grown up with in the crooked streets of the underworld.

Karina whirled, the tip of her knife aimed to Kirigan’s throat. “What did you do to him?” she demanded, anger surging through her like an electrical current.

“Don’t give me that look, Ines,” he said smoothly. “I gifted your brother the same thing I gave you—power. I’ve made him stronger, faster, and more deadly than he could have ever been as an ordinary boy.” His eyes flicked over to Dima, observing him as if he was just another part of his antique collection, a statue carved from marble and stone. “Do you not remember when I sent you with Preef Callo to infiltrate Durr’s palace? When you hacked into his personal database?”

“He’d created the AMS virus, but with the information you’d gleaned for me, I managed to create something even better. A serum that does not turn its users into untreatable, mindless cannibals, but into super soldiers. Enforcers that could truly stand toe to toe with a Jedi.” A terrible smile cut between his lips. “Dima was the first test subject. And while there are a few kinks that need to be worked out—as you can see—it is still a wonderful new addition to the Syndicate arsenal.”

Karina grit her teeth. She couldn’t believe what he was saying. He’d transformed her brother into this nightmare? The very thought made her hands shake, wrath and ruin pouring into her until, finally, she gripped her knife and turned on Kirigan. “I’ll kill you!” she hissed, and leapt for his throat.

She sensed movement before she actually saw it.

Dima moved like liquid lightning. He crossed the room in an instant, as if carried by invisible wings, and he knocked her aside like a broken toy. She smashed into the nearby set of Mandalorian armor. Beskar pieces clattered on the floor. Light armor or not, the air had been knocked out of her, and she couldn’t quite believe the level of strength her brother now possessed. “Fuck,” she muttered, as Dima’s shadow loomed.

@Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

The ground surrounding him was littered with beautifully ruined pieces of art. It felt like a rib or two had been broken, and he was just barely clinging to consciousness. He should have asked for more money.

Dima moved like a man possessed. Preternatural ability dripped from his being and the gravely chuckle emanating from Kirigan was reminiscent of a man who believed they'd won. Unfortunately, for both Dima and the half-paralyzed Crime Lord, Crix could still breathe and managed to hold on to his guns.

Carefully, he managed to get up to a knee, just as he did he saw Dima smack Ines across the room, and Crix would be lying if a smile didn't tug on his lip for it. Though as he drew breath his rib burned in sympathy. Dima moved in, Crix couldn't wait any longer he lifted both weapons and pulled the triggers one after the other. The double stun bolt fired by his RSFK slammed into the monster's back and made him stumble a step forward. The second bolt... well, the second stun bolt just pissed him off.

"Ah shit..."

The amalgamated boy rushed The Scoundrel. Blind fury saved Crix once as he managed to slip a double overhead hammer fist that shattered the duracrete beneath it. Crix got off a shot with his RSFK from point-blank, it knocked Dima back but didn't stop him. Dima swung wildly with a right that knocked Crix to the ground, but he managed to roll out of the way of the left. He lifted his DG to fire, but it was batted away. The gun skittered across the floor toward Ines.

Dima was on him, he was in trouble, and just as he was about to accept his fate he remembered the button.

"Ines, the controller! Get the--Erk!"

Dima had him by the throat and was slowly choking the life out of him. He could feel the blood vessels in his eyes beginning to burst. Crix frantically clawed at Dima's hand.

@Song

 

[Karina Safin]

Karina didn’t have to be told twice. The second Crix stepped in to save her, she scrambled to her feet, understanding that if there was a way to stop Dima, it must have to do with Kirigan. There had to be a special button. A switch. Something to bring back the boy she once knew, the brother she’d always loved. As he slammed the smuggler into the wall, she crossed the room back to Kirigan, who did nothing to resist her as she seized the controller. She pressed the button hard.

Nothing. Karina whirled on her former boss, the controller in hand. “How do you stop it?” she demanded. “Tell me!”

“You can’t,” Kirigan said in a tone that only enraged her further. “Come now, Ines. He’s not a droid you can switch on and off at your whim. That remote only gives him the serum, and once it enters his body, he cannot be stopped. Face it. Your brother is mine, and your friend Damon is a dead man.”

Fury ran through her like a bolt of lightning. She reacted violently, backhanding him across the nose, drawing blood and a pained gasp. “Shut up!” She wanted to beat him to death, to torment him until he begged for death’s release, but she needed her brother desperately. She needed him to be okay. “You’re lying,” Karina snarled, and brought her knife again to Kirigan’s throat. “Call him off. Order him back, or I will gut you like a Rokarian dirt-fish.”

Kirigan’s smile was stained red. “No.”

Blood trickled against the pressure of her blade. So be it. She’d kill him then. She would fulfill her promise and have her revenge. But what about Dima? Crix? What would happen to them once she deprived Kirigan of his miserable life? She cast a long look over to them, terrified by what her brother had become and surprised by how long the smuggler managed to last against him. For as little as she knew him, Karina couldn’t abandon him. Just as she couldn’t abandon Dima.

Goddammit.

She squeezed the handle of her knife, then did the unthinkable: she threw it. Silver flashed across the room, flying until it lodged itself into Dima’s shoulder. He howled, a terrible noise that made her heart sink, and he finally released Crix. Slowly, he turned towards her, taking the knife out from his flesh as if it was just a splinter, and let it clatter on the ground. Karina raised an open hand in a show of vulnerability. “Malenchki,” she said. Little ghost. An old nickname, a memento of their past. “Please, you have to stop this madness.”

Dima paused. So, he was still there. Still fighting.

Before she could continue, several men burst into the room, blasters ready. They must have heard the fighting from downstairs and came rushing to save their master, because already Kirigan was screaming at them to shoot her. Dima still stood uncertain, so she prayed Crix had caught his breath, else she was about to become mincemeat.

@Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

Air rushed into Crix's lungs. He crashed to the floor in a heap gasping. He ripped off his helmet and let the embrace of breath envelope him. The stars that danced at the corners of his periphery began to recede. The Scoundrel didn't have time to recover before a wave of reinforcements crashed through the door. He looked toward Ines, something was happening. He couldn't be sure what, but he hoped they could save Dima.

Confusion, fury, and panic danced across the faces of the new comer's and before they could get their full bearings Crix fired. He snatched his RSFK and let two double bolts set to lethal fly. Two of the thugs felt the spray of viscera as their comrades were blown away before them.

Blaster fire was his reward for his attack. He felt a bolt hit his vest, he recoiled but didn't stop firing. The smell of burnt ozone filled his nostrils. Crix dove for his DG rolling back onto his feet, flicking the gun into lethal and firing two shots. Both bolts hit the same target. The last thing the trandoshan enforcer would've seen was the flash of blue plasma as Crix's bolt hit them. The searing pain of a plasma burn lanced across his right arm as bolt passed nearly ending him.

Crix fired as fast as his numbing hands would operate. His guns smoked from the effort, their barrels glowed from the constant use. Two thugs remained. One tried to call for back up and he was killed for being haughty enough to think Dolan would miss. The last thug shook in fear as The Scoundrel strode toward him. Crix placed the barrel of his DG to the man's head and pulled.

The reinforcements were slaughtered in a glorious display of tenacity, and Crix could feel his body giving up the ghost. His right knee buckled and he dropped to a knee. His vision swam. Bodies were starting to move for the door. Crix fired at the door panel and it shut with a sharp hiss. He'd sealed their fate. Either Ines would save Dima or they'd die.

Crix's arms felt heavy, so heavy. The guns in his hands dropped to the ground and his vision swam. The ground rushed up to meet him and he lay there struggling against the demanding urge to just let go and sleep. Was this it? Was this as far as he could go...

@Song

 

[Karina Safin]

As Crix thankfully dealt with the guards, Karina returned her attention to Dima. She knew he might not recognize her with the helmet on, and while she hated the thought of exposing her identity to a smuggler she barely knew, if there was a way to save her brother, she didn’t care. Nothing mattered but him. So, delicately, she brought her fingers to her face and removed her mask. She let the helmet clatter on the ground. Now, Dima’s face lit up with something else. Not recognition, no, but uncertainty. He was close.

She knew he was in there somewhere.

“Brother,” she whispered, reaching for his hand. Karina felt a lump growing in the back of her throat. “I’m here, Dima. It’s going to be alright.” But he did not respond. Did not laugh or cry or even remotely smile. He only stared at her with a furrowed brow, as if he was trying to remember her face, like he was grasping in the dark. He seemed so faraway, and she wanted nothing more than to pull him into her embrace and let him know she’d never leave him again. “Malenchki,” Karina repeated, noticing him flinch at the name. She took his hand gently. “Let’s go home.”

“No,” said Kirigan, his voice dripping with anger and frustration. “No, you are mine, Dima. You belong to me, you listen to me, and I am ordering you to kill her now!”

But her brother did not listen. He stayed watching her, confused, not quite sure what to do.

“I have to do everything myself,” Kirigan muttered, reaching for a fallen blaster on the floor. He aimed it toward Karina. She noticed only at the last moment, her eyes widening, staring down the barrel, expecting the inevitable shot that would pierce her side like a flaming spear. Except it never came.

Pain did not shoot through her chest. A blaster bolt did not shatter into her gut. Instead she felt a gust of wind on her cheeks and suddenly, Dima was no longer standing in front of her, but in front of Kirigan.

Her brother lifted the man up in the air by his throat. He gasped and choked, squirming like a snake plucked from the water, and Karina watched in horror before his neck made an audible snap. Kirigan fell limp. Dead. She should have glad for this, but it was clear Dima had changed. He was no longer the innocent boy who liked to play hide-and-seek or eat rice cakes on rainy days, but a killer. Just like her. There would be no easy life for them now going forward.

Then she remembered. Crix.

Karina turned and staggered to where he’d collapsed on the floor. She knelt at his side. “Hey, hey,” she said and smacked his bruised cheek, trying to keep him awake. “Crix, don’t wander into that light just yet. You still haven’t gotten paid.” She looked to where the rest of Kirigan’s guards lay. Smoking, crumpled heaps. “Do you want your bonus or not?”

@Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

Crix's eyes opened. The ceiling fan above spun lazily and the murmur of the television droned on in the background. The smell of mixed spices and cooking meat ushered his focus toward the kitchen. Malarie stood there. Russet hair pulled back in a messy bun. Her eyes, god he loved her eyes, were mirrors of the mottled blues of hyperspace. She smiled at him.

"What?"

Crix blinked confused. Somewhere in his mind memories of pain, loss, fury, revenge, wailed like the wind just beyond the transpisteel window. Deep inside he felt like this was wrong, but how could it be? Mal stepped around the counter revealing her pregnant belly. She met him on the couch and wrapped him in a hug. He clung to her fiercely feeling tears pricking his eyes, and not knowing why.

"Did you have a bad dream or something, you're being super weird," she teased.

"I don't know..."

She slipped under him and held his head in her lap.

"Tell me about it. You know I love that crap."

Crix smiled and reached up stroking the contour of her cheek. Her skin was soft as crushed velvet.

"You're gonna think it's dumb—"

"[color=1975ff]I will not![/color]"

"Fine. Well, it started off with... the invasion of Denon."

Mal gasped in mock horror pleading with him to tell her more, so he did. He told her everything he could remember. His stint as a pirate, his time crossing the galaxy to become a member of the five syndicates, and his fated meeting with the legendary assassin Ines. She hung on every word demanding minute details and begging for elaboration.

She asked, "But what about Dima? What happened, did Ines save their brother? Was Dima able to recover? Did you kill Kirigan?"

Crix laughed, "Easy, easy! It was just a dream... I can't remember how the job with Ines turned out. I can't believe you're not more hung up on being dead!"

"That's because I am, sweetie."

"What? No— You're... you're right here!"

His mind reeled as memories flooded his mind. Mal's voice became distorted as if being heard while he was underwater, "Hey, hey!"

She leaned forward smacking at his check, not hard but insistent. Confusion overcame him as he tried to speak, his words struggled to form as he fought to hold on to her, but he was driving away. Slipping further and further into the void, the walls of his apartment faded to black and the image of his pregnant wife reaching out to him was the last thing he saw before everything went black.

"—wander into that light just yet. You still haven’t gotten paid."

The voice that called to him was a distant murmur. A thunderclap from a storm still far off on the horizon. With each word, it drew nearer until it was right above him.

"Do you want your bonus or not?"

His eyes opened and met the face of a woman he didn't know. The smell of burnt ozone and seared flesh brought him back to the present. His eyes widened and he struggled to sit up as his body vehemently protested. He was fucked. He could feel the cold burn of blaster wounds in one thigh, a shoulder, just above his hip. His face felt raw and chapped and yeah, his ribs were definitely broken.

In spite of it all, his response was, "Yes, please."

His lips spread into a wry grin and he managed with a little help to stand. Dima's shadow fell over him and in a voice too high for a man of his size the boy said, "We go now. Please, we must."

Tears stung the boy's eyes and just behind him, Crix could see the crumpled body of the Eye of Shadaa. Crix pulled his comm, "Beegee we gotta go, get the ship as close to us as possible and come in hot because there's a good chance we won't be alone."

Crix limped over the Mandalorian armor and put it on. The chest piece was a little big, but the helmet fit. He rolled his shoulders reloaded his guns and nodded to Ines, who he was still trying to get over being a woman. A SUPER attractive woman.

"After you milady," he said with a sneer. Dima thumped him on the head and Crix winced in pain. "Ow, I was kidding!"

@Song

 

[Karina Safin]

She laughed. Of course he was okay. She shouldn’t have cared and yet, she did. “Greedy bastard,” she said, the relief in her voice apparent as she helped the smuggler rise from the floor, applying some bacta spray on the gash smoking from his thigh. It was nowhere near enough to heal it, but perhaps it would prove enough to carry him through the next few minutes. He’d almost died twice in the last four minutes. It was a miracle he could even stand, let alone retrieve the set of Mandalorian armor in the corner.

Although it didn’t stop her from smacking his shoulder at his little comment, despite Dima having already thumped him on the skull. “Save the coy remarks for when we escape,” she told Crix. “I’m still trusting you to get us out of here alive.”

She hesitated briefly. He hadn’t brought up the fact she’d lied about Dima’s presence or how it had nearly ruined their mission, instead he just rolled with the punches, acting like it was all part of the plan to begin with. Maybe he’d demand a higher reward at the end of the day. She wouldn’t put it past him, and neither would she deny it. He could ask for all the credits in her account and she would probably hand it over, because Dima had been all that mattered.

“Thank you, by the way,” she said to her brother, grateful he’d managed to break out of Kirigan’s control to save her. “And you—” she turned to Crix and scoffed, “—well, you’re getting paid. You don’t need my thanks.”

Before she could cast him a smile, a shadow crossed her vision. Two men burst into the office then, sporting stun pikes and heavy blasters, ready for battle. It changed nothing. Dima reacted first, closing the gap between them in a blink, and practically tossed them back out the door like yesterday’s garbage. Ines leapt after him. She slammed the door shut before more guards could pour through, likely breaking someone’s nose in the process. The lock wouldn’t hold for long.

Less, really, as she heard the sound of weapons being cocked.

Karina dove away from the door just before the men on the other side riddled it with blaster bolts. Dima swept in to protect her, like a bird sheltering her with its wings. “Crix!” she yelled over the din of gunfire. “Is your droid coming or not?”

Then she heard it. A noise overhead. Light streamed through the grand window behind Kirigan’s desk and she could just barely make out the ugly shape of Crix’s ship. She’d never been so glad to see the Freebird until that moment.

@Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

The Scoundrel dressed in stolen armor rolled his shoulder and winced as Ines decided to join in with Dima.

"Ow, okay I get it," he wined, but under his breath he said, "...give a guy a break, I was just being polite."

The intrusion of the two enforcers reminded him their job wasn't over yet. Ines and Dima lunged forward dealing with the guards. Crix opened his comm and took cover. In his injured state, he wasn't going to be much help in a fistfight, but that didn't mean he couldn't shoot.

"Beegee, please tell me you're close!"

Ines echoed his sentiment and then at the same time all three of them were greeted with the floodlights from The Freebird.

An excited chittering played through his comm and Crix yelled, "Let's get the hell out of here!"

The Scoundrel lifted his guns and opened fire. The glass shattered spraying transparisteel shards into the air traffic below. The boarding ramp was already down and the ship hung in the air listing a little to the left and the right.

"Dima, Ines! Let's go, you're up first!"

Truth be told he wasn't sure how he was going to do his. The bacta spray he'd been given earlier had helped numb the pain, but the muscle was still damaged. That's when the door blew open.

"Fuck!"

Crix stumbled and managed to find cover behind the golden bust of a Zabrak as heavy blaster fire filled the room.

"Get out of here I'll cover you!" he yelled.

The Scoundrel took a couple of pop shots and drew fire away from the exit, making sure not to stray too far. Dima and Ines would have just a few seconds to make the jump. Once they were through, he'd have to figure something out.

Crix took a deep breath, powered up his jump boots, prayed to any deity he thought would listen, and made a run for it. Blaster bolts lit up the space around him. An unfamiliar PING and PWONG reverberated through his chest as bolts bounced off the back of his pilfered armor. He hit the windowsill with his good leg and activated his jump boots. The extra boost from his boots catapulted him through the window and onto the boarding ramp. His injured leg gave out under the stress of the landing and he clung to the hydraulic arm as the ship began to pull away.

@Song

 

[Karina Safin]

The Freebird ascended at a sharp angle, threatening to spill its contents out of the open boarding hatch as Crix’s droid executed their hasty escape. Karina threw an arm out to help the smuggler into his own ship, if only to keep him from flying out and adding to the pile of casualties they’d left behind. “You and your droid must have a knack for the theatrical,” she chastised as she hauled him onto the ramp. Was it his shiny new armor, or had he always been so goddamn heavy?

Once he was safely aboard, Karina smashed the button adjacent to the ship’s open maw and the boarding ramp began to close behind them. Lances of red light struck the side of the freighter, but from this altitude, their assailants couldn’t get off an accurate shot; and the ship was hardly in danger from a few stray blaster bolts. They could have escaped then. Nothing was really stopping them. But the droid pilot was told to come in hot and it obeyed its programming.

Much bigger bursts of fire came from the ship’s cannons. The men pursuing them scattered, diving for broken furniture and antique collections, to avoid being vaporized. Some were not lucky enough to flee the droid’s sights. Little more was left of them than a black smudge scarring the ground where the ship’s lasers struck. Karina was unable to determine the fate of the rest, because the hatch finished sealing, and at once the roar of the outside winds dulled to a faint hum somewhere beyond the thick plating separating them from the sky.

“Like I was saying,” she said, pushing a loose strand of hair out of her face. “Knack for the theatrical.”

An awkward silence fell over them heavy like a wet coat. Dima was the elephant in the room, but she still wasn’t sure if she was ready for Crix to acknowledge her lie just yet—if he ever would. Instead, she focused on the wound he was nursing. The bacta she’d sprayed on his thigh had likely no more than eased his pain, if that. By now its numbness was probably spiking into a real sting, and he needed to get the wound properly attended to and dressed.

“Does this flying calamity have a med bay?” she asked him, gesturing to his injury. “If that doesn’t get taken care of, you’re looking at more permanent muscle damage.” Karina supposed this was their chance to celebrate, to uncork some bottles, but for some reason, she didn’t feel like this had been a victory. Kirigan had died, but she was not remotely satisfied. Dima had been irrevocably changed. Her precious identity had been exposed, too.

But at least it was only with the smuggler. Nobody else, not even the pursuing guards, had caught her face in the haze of battle. Crix, at least, she could trust.

@Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

Crix appreciated the extra hand. He hadn't considered the new weight on his shoulders and it was clear he was going to need to acclimate to the armor. As the boarding ramp closed behind them, Crix started stripping the armor. His body was exhausted and the excess weight was too much for him to deal with.

He was aware of Dima, the implication, and he knew it needed to be addressed. He remembered the fake backstories she'd given and wondered which of them, if any, were her and her brother's. Of course, it wasn't like he'd be able to tell. The Smuggler couldn't place his anger. In reality, her lie was expected. He could see it coming from lightyears away, but it still stung.

The real issue was... Why? Why was he hurt, why was he upset? He didn't know here, they weren't friends, and this was just a job.

Dima with all the grace of a rancor "helped" him to his quarters. Then there they were. The three of them, in his room. The one place he'd kept everyone except for Beegee out of for nearly 5 years. It felt wrong. He felt vulnerable, and most of all, his leg fucking hurt. He kept finding himself looking toward Ines and then looking away when she looked his way.

What, are you? Thirteen?

Crix took a seat at the foot of his bed, now bare-chested, the story of his adventures across the galaxy to land in this hell hole told by the burns and scars that coved his chest and torso. He managed to pull his pack of cigarettes from the nightstand before nodding toward the closet in answer to Ines' question.

"In the back to the left, there's a hidden compartment. Open it and I'll be fine."

He lit his cigarette as the spindly legs of an interrogator droid drifted into the view. The droid had been refurbished and was a gift from a thankful trandoshan after a successful job. He kept a close eye on Dima, but the big guy didn't seem phased. The droid scanned his body and set to work on his leg. Aside from telling her where the droid had been hidden, Crix had been uncharacteristically silent.

With the droid hovering over him, he finally said, "So, where am I taking you?"

@Song

 

[Karina Safin]

Karina followed him uneasily into his quarters. She knew he enjoyed his privacy and how this room was his personal inner sanctum, and she felt like she was intruding by entering. It didn’t help when he stripped away his shirt and armor, leaving his chest exposed, revealing the scars and burns imprinted into his skin. A flush crept up her neck and she did her best not to stare. Instead she followed Crix’s directions and opened the closet, where a droid emerged.

As it got to work on his leg, Karina lurked by a desk scattered with old papers, leaning against the edge. Distantly she could recognize some of the scars on Crix—knife wounds, blaster burns—and the curious girl in her felt tempted to ask where and how he got them. But that girl stayed silent, and Karina only watched as the droid assisted the smuggler.

“I don’t know,” she said in response to his question, sparing a glance at Dima, who was busy toying with a leftover data-pad. He’d grown so much in their time apart and she couldn’t tell whether it was age, the serum, or both. And yet, even if he was clearly nearing his twenties, she could still see the boy in him, young and afraid and not sure what the future had in store. “I need to make sure he’s okay. Safe. The farther away from the Syndicates, the better.”

“Somewhere isolated might do. Somewhere nice.” Karina looked thoughtfully at the ground, remembering her brief stint as a Syndicate spy. “I already have a place set up in the Consortium, a name and identity. I’m a recon specialist on reserve for the ISC Rangers.” She breathed a laugh. “Ironic, isn’t it? Abandoning the life of an assassin for that of a soldier? Who knows though, maybe I’ll retire and start a flower shop on Indupar and never raise a knife again.”

She shook her head, as if she didn’t believe it herself. Settling down would be nice, but the past was not something she could so easily leave behind, especially with Dima as he was.

Karina rose from Crix’s side. “Sorry, I’m rambling,” she said. “You should get some rest. I’ll go and plot a course to Naboo and wire you those credits, bonus included. Okay?” With a wave to Dima, he left the room, although she lingered by the door, casting one last look over her shoulder to the smuggler. “By the way, Ines is dead. He died on Nar Shaddaa along with Kirigan. Whether you want to claim that credit, it’s up to you, but from now on, you can just call me Karina.”

Then she left, leaving Crix alone with his droid.

@Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

A lazy wisp of smoke drifted away from the glowing cherry of his cigarette as the distance between the two of them grew further apart. The droid was focused on repairing his leg and the smell of cauterized flesh started to turn his stomach. Crix laid back on his bed, not looking at Ines, keeping his steely blue gaze ahead and slipping behind the same practiced veneer every jaded individual maintained.

Ines seemed adrift. It's almost like she couldn't believe they'd done it. His heart broke for her, he carried his burden like a badge of honor. If it was stripped away... how would he feel? The droid hit a nerve and he winced in pain.

Through gritted teeth, he said, "Haven't spent much time in ISC space, could be interesting."

His non-committal attitude was probably doing wonders for her anxiety.

"Not sure I could see you selling flowers, but you deserve that if that's what you want."

Crix was happy to let her ramble. Hearing her voice without the masked modulator was surprisingly pleasant and if he were completely honest it was the first real human connection he'd had since he'd left Denon.

"Sure, sounds good."

Crix stiffened when she mentioned the death of Ines. He ashed his cigarette.

"Thanks, I'm not interested in claiming credit for something I didn't do. Far as I'm concerned, Ines died the legend they were. For what it's worth, it's a pleasure to meet you, Karina."

He grinned as he watched her leave. The droid continued it's work. A tug here, a pull there, a spray of mist, and then finally relative relief. It'd had been an hour or two since their conversation. He stood from his bed patted the droid affectionately on the dome, then pulled on a white tunic. As he limped across the room he paused and examined the scattered papers. Clips and hints tossed about from back alleys to stately museums. Amalgamated scraps that when put in just the right position resembled something far more valuable.

A map.

A grin as wry as the whiskey he drank took it's place on his lips as Crix gathered the papers exited his room.

Karina was relaxing in the lounge her attention pouring over a datapad as he entered.

"Correct me if I'm wrong. You're looking to start a new life. Right?"

He asked as he pulled two glasses down, and pulled up an expensive bottle of Denon Single-Barrel bourbon.

"You wanna do it away from the syndicate. Right?"

He began arranging his papers in what seemed like a discombobulated mess and poured them both a drink. He could tell she was interested. His grin widened.

"Do you trust me?"

He knew the answer. She'd proven it in Kirigan's office. The moment they'd started fighting. It wasn't easy finding someone you could work with much less trust. Crix stepped back from his work. The pieces of paper from her perspective would appear to make up a map with letters written in 'Old Corellian' script that read, Ord Antalaha

Crix limped across the room to her, handing her the second glass.

"How does the title: Treasure Hunter sound?"

At least that's what he would have done if he'd had the courage.

Instead, he lay on his bed starring at the ceiling of his ship wondering if he'd ever find the courage to trust others again. Maybe someday, but for now, he'd lay here with his wounds and loneliness and dream of days gone by. The only comfort he had was in the memory of his wife's embrace and the cigarette he lit.

End...​

@Song