You Can't Always Get What You Want

[Evelyn Roslin]

Death Disabled / Open to All

"A'nuther."

Evelyn frowned, pushing a brown lock out of her face as she tried her best to keep from slurring. Though, when the bartender merely smirked and poured her another glass of what smelled vaguely like kerosene, she remembered that she wasn't in the type of establishment where they cut you off after one too many. No, she'd stumbled into this place because she'd been kicked out of the bar she and Vier used to frequent. The kind of place they'd sample different wines, joke about being able to pick out imaginary nuances like "forest floor," or "hints of graphite." Whether the wine was great or terrible, they enjoyed themselves either way. His hand would reach for hers as they spoke, thumb idly stroking over her knuckle, and . . .

Frak.

The 24-year-old human female hurridly downed her drink, but it was too late to numb the pain. A different flood of memories hit her hard enough to make her physically sway on the barstool.

Three days ago, she and Vier walked down the street, her hand snug in his. The morning air was crisp, slightly chilled, and she couldn't remember the last time they'd gotten out of bed this early without some external obligation that required it.

"Ow! Vier, stop it!"

She glared at him as he playfully jabbed his finger into her ribs, the spot that always made her squirm and jump with discomfort. He thought it was hilarious; she disagreed, but found it hard to object too strenuously when he so clearly enjoyed needling her.

"Out of the Army for three weeks and you're already becoming a wimp, Evie. I'm just trying to keep you tough!"

Vier was a cargo pilot for the Republican Navy. The military was how they met - up until a month ago, Evelyn served as a logistics officer, jumping through hoops and pulling miracles out of her ass for commanders who all too often seemed to believe logistics involved little more than wishes and fairy dust.

"I'll show you tough - do you know the kind of damage I could do with this thing?"

Evelyn held up her left hand, mostly as an excuse to admire the sparkling ring on her finger. It wasn't a huge diamond, but the moderate size fit her just right, and she still found herself looking at it with a stupid grin. He proposed months ago, and she couldn't help but feel like everything in her life was falling into place. The tomboy grav-ball player who always felt she'd somehow missed the "how to be a proper lady" classes had somehow snagged the man of her dreams. Sometimes that's how she felt- that this was all a dream, and one day she'd wake up and realize she really 40 and alone. She grinned up at Vier, leaned in to peck his cheek - and paused, as a strange, foreboding feeling came over her. She couldn't explain it, but some instinct made her flinch, tugging Vier's hand to try and pull him to the side with her.

She didn't pull hard enough, not quite trusting her instincts; another half meter, and he would've been clear.

Instead, when he half-turned, the blaster bolt caught him in the chest. In what felt like a long moment, he looked down at the smoking hole, puzzled. He looked up at her; their gaze locked, and he reached out his hand . . .then crumbled to his knees and slumped over, motionless.

Evelyn stared. Blinked once. This wasn't happening. She knelt beside him, tried to lift his shoulders.

"Oye! Frakkin' nerfherder got in the way of my blaster! Some nerve!"

A thug on a speeder came up on them, a similar-looking fellow on his left.

"Idiot! Ya missed the shot, now we gotta catch that asshole Durbin before he gets his crew riled up!"

Both sped past her without a second glance, without a care that they'd just blasted her fiance. No rhyme or reason to it, just bad luck, wrong place at the wrong time.

"Vier. Vier, handsome, come on. Get up. Get up, please."

Her numbness was rapidly giving way to panic. Pain, stronger than anything she'd ever felt, tore through her chest.

"You have to get up!"

As Evelyn screamed the last word, the pain and rage tore through her with a dark pulse of energy. A few windows nearby cracked; she didn't notice. All she could see was her future crumpled on the ground in front of her.

Three days later, and she was still waiting to wake up. The first day was shock. Trying to deal with his family, with his command, who had too many questions for which there were no answers. They said they'd have the funeral in a week, to give his family time to arrive on-planet so everyone could say good-bye. Which was bullshit, of course. She didn't get a chance to say good-bye; hadn't known that she should form the words then, before the errant blaster bolt ended his life. Evelyn felt a storm of emotions, so powerful they frightened her.

Somehow, even though she wanted nothing more than to be numb, her senses felt heightened. It was as if she could feel the pity and uncertainty coming off Vier's commanding officer, his mother's grief over the holo. She kept coming back to that foreboding sense right before Vier was hit - as though she'd known something was going to happen. How could she have known? More to the point - if she'd known, why hadn't she been able to save him?

She felt lost, without purpose, and utterly without peace. Though she'd always imbibed in moderation before, now she drank to make herself go numb. To push it all away. Because she didn't know where to go from here, didn't even know where to start.

"A'nuth-"

"We're closin' down, sweet cheeks. You wanna stay and drink with me, yer welcome to . . . I got a nice cozy room in back-"

The bartender leered at the intoxicated young woman, reached his hand out towards her wrist- she surprised both of them by grabbing his first - faster than she should've been able to, especially given the alcohol - and twisting it in a wrist-lock she'd learned in the very basic version of combat training that the Corps required of all its officers.

"Frak off."

At least she there wasn't much to slur there. And she stumbled out of the bar into the open air of Coruscant. She picked a direction grudgingly started putting one foot in front of the other, then froze as a very familiar sound shattered the normal buzz of the city's activity - gunships. Then screams. Chunks of the building a block away hurtled into the air, durasteel raining down on the unlucky civilians below. Closer, the former logistics officer registered the frantic pulsing of blaster rifles firing at the cyclic rate. A significant portion of her drunken haze cleared with the sobering realization that while she was working to drink herself into oblivion, the Sith had launched an invasion of Coruscant.

While Evelyn's mind struggled to comprehend this new information, her body reacted instinctively. Apparently the six months of basic officer training were worth something after all. She lurched towards a set of buildings on her left that looked like they might offer some sort of cover. The alcohol, the storm of emotions inside her, and the now near-deafening sounds of battle precluded thoughts any more complex than, "go that way."

Thanks to her failed attempt to drown the still-fresh pain of Vier's death, the young Force-sensitive woman was no longer sure which way "that way" led, what part of the city she was in, or what she was headed towards. All the same, she pushed forward into the chaos.

 

[Nerovec]

Nero cut down yet another republic soldier as the young man frantically tried to flee away from the Sith. As he fell down unto the ground and breathed out his last breath the Sith suddenly sensed something..or someone.

He turned around and looked trough the chaos until he spotted a young woman. He felt...anger in her but she was not a Sith nor a jedi, intrigued the Sith quickly made his way towards her slaying another soldier as the young twi-lek foolishly thought that he would be able to kill a Sith.

After killing the soldier the Sith quickly ran after her and used the force to make a quick jump over her.

As he landed in front of her he attempted to stop her by extending his arm whilst she ran by him trying to knock her unto the ground.

 

[Evelyn Roslin]

Get to cover, get to cover, get to cover . . .

There was a strange kind of solace in the thought that drummed like a mantra in her brain. Shifting into fight-or-flight mode conveniently narrowed her focus and temporarily eliminated outside thoughts in a way that the alcohol hadn't quite managed to accomplish. Turns out emotional crises were still secondary as far as evolutionary impulses were concerned. Though, that sense of heightened awareness remained; she couldn't shake the feeling that she was moving a bit faster and more agilely than she should have been able to after a day-long bender.

The young woman picked up speed, moving into a full sprint as she angled towards a small alcove. Unfortunately, just as she accelerated, a dark figure seemed to appear out of nowhere in front of her. His arm caught her in the stomach, the air forced out of her lungs in surprised "Oof." Evelyn's momentum kept her tumbling forward. Adrenaline already spiking, she rolled as she fell, coming up slowly a few feet away and drawing a rough breath. The pain, anger, and fear made her more irritable than usual, and the typically easy-going human snarled without thinking at the stranger,

"What the hell?! Can't you see there's a battle goin-"

She halted mid-sentence as her brain caught up with her mouth, and she registered the glowing lightsaber in the figure's hand. Looked into his eyes, and felt a cold twist in her chest. A Sith. She'd never encountered one up close before; as a logistics officer, while she'd seen combat, it was more often in the form of convoy ambushes by conventional troops than elite Force Users.

"Uh . . ."

Very eloquent, Evie. She wasn't sure why this Sith decided to become a roadblock to her flight, but she did know that she was now deeply screwed. A surge of aggression, the urge to act now and lash out in any way or form, led her to take the surprising but somewhat comically ill-advised action of suddenly grasping a chunk of durasteel and flinging at the Sith's head, like she was playing grav-ball all over again.

Without waiting to see where it hit its intended target, Evelyn tried to sprint off again. Maybe this Sith would get distracted with a more worthy target?

 

[Nerovec]

The Sith looked at her and grinned under his mask. He watched her grasp a chunk of durasteel and watched as he threw it at him. He stopped it by simply lifting his hand and using the force. He watched as she started running again and casually followed her. Due to her being force sensitive she wasn't hard to track.

After another minute of chasing her through alleyways and streets he once again decided to jump in front of her using his force jump but now he grew impatient and attempted to put her in a 'mild' force choke.

 

[Evelyn Roslin]

For a minute or two, Evelyn though she actually might've gotten away with the stupendously stupid act of trying to fight a Sith by hurling rocks at him. Then he showed up in front of her again, once more out of nowhere, and she realized how wrong she was. For a moment, the untapped part of her registered a tendril of amusement coming from the masked Sith. Like he was smirking at her.

How the hell would I know that?

There was no time to contemplate an answer, because without warning, breathing became a very difficult endeavor. Evelyn's hazel eyes widened in fear as her throat constricted painfully.

"Ugh . . . stop . . ."

The feeling of helplessness as the Sith stood there, Force choking her, made her feel despair. But in the pits of despair, just as with Vier's death, there was a spark of rage. A desire to struggle, to scream, to fight, to do something. A few small pieces of rubble vibrated around the Sith, but Evelyn didn't notice. She only glared into his eyes, lips pulling back in a snarl, even as the color drained from her face.

 

[Nerovec]

"I can sense your rage...I sense a great deal of emotions in you...Anger, helplessness but also...grief ? You lost someone recently haven't you ? Someone who was dear to you...Perhaps you feel like you should've done something to stop it ? Perhaps you even blame yourself for his or her death ?"

The Sith loosened his choke and now simply held her in the air by using the force. "I sense great potential in you...Tell me would you wish you would be more powerfull ? To actually make a difference and not feel so...helpless ? I can help you in this, the only thing you have to do is..follow my teachings and you can become someone with great power.."

 

[Evelyn Roslin]

The rush of sweet, life-giving oxygen flowing back into her lungs momentarily distracted Evelyn from the Sith's words. Even when they did penetrate her mind, she struggled to make sense of them. Of course, in an detached sense, she knew the Sith and Jedi could read minds. Everyone knew that. But hearing something tossed around during stories and legends was profoundly different than having this complete stranger pick up on her state of mind with disturbing ease.

Did she blame herself for Vier's death? Of course. She'd felt . . . something . . . right before it happened. If she'd reacted quicker, pulled him away harder instead of hesitating, then the love of her life would still be alive. And her whole world wouldn't be in shambles. The idea of being able to prevent that from happening in the future, to eradicate that feeling of helplessness, to replace the gaping sense of loss with one of purpose was seductive indeed.

"Potential? "

What was he talking about? Potential for what? Most humans dreamed that someone would tell them they were special, that they'd discover some new talent or skill that set them apart from everyone else. But that was a fantasy, fit for children and daydreams. Sure, she excelled in some areas, but that didn't mean anything. Not everyone was a special little snowflake. If she were Force-sensitive, she would have known . . . wouldn't she? There was a powerful temptation to explore that line of thought.

However, Evelyn served in the Republic's Army. She'd sworn an oath to fight the enemies of the Republic, to defend its vaunted goals of peace and prosperity. Admittedly, her discharge a month ago technically freed her from any remaining obligation, but old habits and loyalties die hard.

"You're a Sith. Sith only deal in lies."

The anger flared in her. How Nero knew about Vier's death, she couldn't fathom - but now he was using her fiance to goad her, manipulate her. She gathered what little moisture she had in her mouth, and spat at his feet.

 

[Nicolás]

Nicolás leaned against an adjacent wall, his armor gleaming in silver luster. Each arm lay coiled over one another as a single, charcoal blaster dangled from his grip. Beneath the steel, steadfast veil of his helmet, his invisible glare drills into the figure of the Sith, accompanied by lips coiled into a disgusted frown. Although he saw little issue in the sacking of Coruscant, especially as it was the one time he could shoot some creep without getting charged for homicide, he was quick to find himself perturbed by the gimmicks of the Brotherhood.

I mean, they just thought they owned everything, didn't they? Waving around those damned red glowsticks like play toys. Strutting through the city as if their balls were as big as the the Republic Rotunda. Like, c'mon— we get it. You're "badass." Even with all that heavy makeup, cheesy masks and ugly robes. But kriffin' hell, you don't have to go around force-choking random strangers to prove your worth.

No longer finding pleasure at the sight having unfurled before him, Nicolás drifted forward. TS-15 secured his right fist and left hand resting on his waist, his plated boots guide him to the young woman and her unwelcome guest. Through his steel visage, a voice laden with sarcasm echoed in their direction. "Hitting on a girl in the middle of a planetary invasion?" A chuckle. "How about you go skedaddle, Sithy, and handle taking over the planet. This girl's with me."

 

[Evelyn Roslin]

The third voice cut through the silence with a tone that was an intriguing mix of nonchalance and steel. Held in Nero's Force grip a few meter off the ground, Evelyn felt her neck strain as she tried to turn and look at the newcomer. While her breathing was no longer impeded, even small movements required significant effort.

Her gaze was met by steel; armor she recognized as Mandalorian. The anger coursing through her veins kept her features molded into more of a glare, though hope sparked for a moment behind hazel eyes. Fear and anger urged to fight, to lash out, but the analytical part of her mind (the part that helped her excel in the Army's logistics realm) knew that she stood pathetically little chance against a Sith Lord. It would be like a kitten trying to maul a tiger.

This newcomer's arrival, whatever his intentions, introduced a new element that might change the outcome to one where she didn't end up with her throat crushed or head severed by a lightsaber (which seemed to Evelyn the most likely results of spitting at a Sith Lord). And the young woman found that, despite the strange rage that flared in her, and the pain it fed on, she was rather fond of her head remaining right where it was.

She'd have time to sort through the repercussions of a Mandalorian armor-clad stranger claiming her if she survived the next few minutes. Though she had a feeling his armor wouldn't yield any more readily to hurled hunks of durasteel than the Sith's.

Evelyn's eyes narrowed as her gaze shifted once more to the Sith in front of her.

 

[Nerovec]

The Sith shot a glance to the mandalorian before looking back at the girl.

"A common misconception..Most Sith do not only deal in lies..Tell me something girl did someone ever tell you that you are force sensitive ?"

The Sith then turned his attention to the newcomer. "As soon as I am finished talking to this girl I shall release her and be on my way but I am not yet done talking and you aren't helping so I suggest you move along or I'll kill you where you stand."

 

[Evelyn Roslin]

The Sith's response caught Evelyn off-guard. Anger, aggression, disdain - those were the emotions she'd expected. Calm, somewhat cold interest didn't quite fit with her mental image of the Dark Side's adepts. Then again, that image was founded on little more than Holonet reports and rumor.

"You're wrong."

She denied Nero's observation on reflex. If she was Force sensitive, she would've been able to save Vier; that was how it worked, right? Force users manipulated their environments- they didn't watch helpless as their fiances were gunned down in the street. The overwhelming sense of guilt that followed that line of thought brought a grimace of pain and another wave of emotion to her harried features.

She twisted in the air, and once more, a few small pieces of rubble vibrated in their place on the ground. Hardly anything to notice, when there were explosions rocking the city as the bombardment intensified. To a trained Force user, it was nothing more than a weak ripple; subconscious, uncontrolled, a physical manifestation of raw emotions built to the point of bursting. Up until Vier's death, Evelyn's life had been relatively devoid of conflict. The usual ups and downs, sure, but nothing for the bards to sing of. Apparently the tumult of his death was enough to stir something long-dormant to life inside her- and this time, she noticed it. It should've been a moment of wonder, self-discovery. Instead, it only confirmed what she'd feared - she should have been able to save Vier. And she hadn't.

"I'm no use to anyone."

 

[Nerovec]

"Believe me girl...I am never wrong when it comes to this...You may be of no use now but I can make you useful, the only thing you have to do is listen to my teachings and embrace the dark side..And I can make you stronger, more powerful..perhaps you can even get revenge ?"

 

[Bailey Arterius]

Bailey landed her XJ-6 airspeeder nearby unaware of the situation unfolding. She hopped out, her hand resting on her belt. She started walking to the Chora bar, turning the corner she stopped as she saw the Sith Lord holding the girl in the air, and another man watching. She slowed and stopped just barely visible from behind the wall. She held her hand on her DH17, just in case.

 

[Darkwasp]

The soft souls of her Bantha-leather boots pounded against the hard Permacrete, as the mocha-skinned smuggler bobbed and weaved through the war torn streets of Coruscant. Bahati would do almost anything for credits; and when a local gang offered to pay her a hefty amount of credits to deliver military grade weapons, to help them defend themselves against the impending insurgence, Bahati gladly obliged. She almost, ALMOST, regretted her decision. Just as she had finished up with her transaction, the Sith began their bombardment on her section of the ecumenopolis. Large chunks of debris had blocked her path, preventing her from having easy access back to her freighter. Now she had to find an alternate route through the Kriffin' maze of a city.

As she turned a sharp corner, the buxom pilot's brown eyes widen and she lost her footing. Her arms and legs flailed wildly, while she skid and tumbled awkwardly along the ground. The sight of a man; garbed from head to toe in black, a brown haired woman; floating uncomfortably and precariously in the air, and a shimmering armored figure leaning nonchalantly against a wall, had caught her completely off guard. With the grace usually reserved for the galaxy's most majestic creatures, Bahati skillfully rolled onto her feet. It was an obvious attempt to dispel the previous visual of her clumsy fall. She stood completely still; hoping that no one would notice her, and that she could eventually slink off in another direction.

"Believe me girl...I am never wrong when it comes to this...You may be of no use now but I can make you useful, the only thing you have to do is listen to my teachings and embrace the dark side..And I can make you stronger, more powerful..perhaps you can even get revenge?" the black clad figure spouted in the direction of the floating girl.

A small snort escaped from Bahati's nose, as she attempted to stifle a giggle. Did people really talk like that?! she thought to herself. She immediately realized her error; slowly standing to a more confident position. Her eyes deftly darted between the three individuals that she had the misfortune of running into. It was difficult to discern exactly what was happening, but the man dressed in black and holding the crimson glowing weapon of death, appeared to be the 'Bad Guy'.

 

[Bailey Arterius]

Bailey glanced up, just noticing the siege among the city.
"Oh god..." she muttered. She slowly backed away from the scene and starting jogging towards her air speeder. She looked around desperately,

"I swear I landed it right h- shoot." Upon realization of her speeder most likely being stolen, she turned back towards the scene noticing a new face, a girl standing up, the man in the armor looking at the Sith Lord and then back at the girl. Bailey readied her pistol, prepared to take any shot necessary.

 

[Nicolás]

"Kill me where I stand?" His eyebrows furrow together. "What are you going to do? Suffocate me under the weight of your ego?"

Voice sharp and willing to slit someone's throat, Nicolás lolled closer to the Sith. Although a little under seven meters, his bearings prove more than fair if a battle were to indeed ensue. Not that the distance would truly matter in the end— he had bashed in a few skulls of some frivolous force-using fruitcakes before, and there was little doubt today would prove any differently. Nonetheless, he takes no initiative to jump into the fray, rather hoping to send the Sith scurrying away from an obviously resistant woman. I mean, no means no, right?

Ignoring the majority of the Sith's clichéd "join-me-and-shit" lecture, Nicolás was quick to recognize several others linger close by. The spectacle was collecting unwanted attention— but attention he could use to his own advantage. After all, the Sith was alone in a city burning at the hand of his own faction.

"You better get going, Darth Panties-In-A-Bunch," he said, brandishing the shape of his blaster in open air, "You're making a scene."

 

[Bailey Arterius]

Bailey quickly realized what the man was planning on doing. She held her finger on the trigger, holding it slightly below her face, she looked at the Sith who was turning to face the man. The girl in the air, still gasping for a breath looked to be at the verge of passing out.

 

[Evelyn Roslin]

"Believe me girl...I am never wrong when it comes to this...You may be of no use now but I can make you useful, the only thing you have to do is listen to my teachings and embrace the dark side..And I can make you stronger, more powerful..perhaps you can even get revenge?"

The events of the past few days, and notably the past few minutes, left Evelyn with a cold feeling in her stomach where a bright sense of purpose once existed. Vier's death shook her foundation, and the resulting tremors left the young woman vulnerable. Even without added chaos of the attack on Coruscant, Evelyn was in the midst of being sucked into her own self-destructive vortex. The Sith's offer was all the more tempting as a result. It was a way out, a path to bring order back into her life.

He isn't subtle about using my pain to manipulate me though, is he? Using Vier's death to try and make me a puppet?

And there was the rub. The defiant anger that the Sith recognized as a potential path to the Dark Side was the same element that kept Evelyn from being seduced by his offer. In her state, she was far from walking in the Light, but she wasn't so blind as to let her rage consume her - at least, not today.

What sounded like a snort off to the side drew Evelyn's attention, and she locked eyes with a very curvy woman who appeared to be stifling a giggle. She couldn't help arching an eyebrow, rather unable to see the humor in the situation from her current perspective. Admittedly, she'd had a fairly shitty day thus far.

Seriously?

Before she could consider the newcomer more closely, however, the Mandalorian-clad stranger spoke once more. Glib words, but his tone had hardened. She recognized the prowling nature of his movements; it rather reminded her of a panther stalking and considering prey.

Who the hell is this guy, comfortable facing down a Sith?

Though, at the moment, it didn't really matter who he was. He was insulting and not-so-subtly challenging the Sith holding her captive. Ergo, the enemy of my enemy is my . . . well, something. And he was right - they did seem to be drawing a crowd. A second female had approached, this one aiming a pistol. That, and standing still long enough while the city was under bombardment seemed a bad idea in general.

"I already told you - I'm not interested in your false promises. Does that helmet make you hard of hearing?"

Fear apparently decided to manifest itself as snark. Well, better that than groveling, she supposed. Then again, even if she was currently a trainwreck, she'd never been one to grovel. Least of all when she'd ingested multiple shots of liquor from questionable establishments.

 

[Nerovec]

Nero looked at her for several seconds. "I am not making false promises girl...But if you wish to be useless for the rest of your life then so be it." He released the girl gently unto the ground. "It's a shame that you wish to throw your gift away, tell me something what did the Republic and the jedi ever do for you ? Did they help you stop your loved one from getting killed ?"

The Sith looked at the mandalorian and laughed. "You should speak to me with more respect Mandalorian as we shall rule this galaxy soon...You might want to make friends with Sith, not enemies."

 

[Evelyn Roslin]

Extremely grateful to be back on solid ground, Evelyn reflexively took two steps away from both the Sith and the Mandalorian. Even through the fog of confusion and chaotic thoughts going through her mind, she knew that if the two came to blows, it would be a very bad idea to be caught between them.

Though if they do go at it, it might be a good opportunity to run for it . . .

That is, if she had any idea which direction to run. More and more, she was beginning to wish she'd simply passed out at that bar. Thinking required far too much effort, and all roads seemed to lead back to the source of her emotional turmoil. Which was what she'd been drinking to forget in the first place.

"It's a shame that you wish to throw your gift away, tell me something what did the Republic and the jedi ever do for you ? Did they help you stop your loved one from getting killed?"

It didn't help that the Sith kept bringing Vier's death back to the surface, and all the pain and anger came with it. It didn't occur to her that the action was deliberate; prodding at an obviously open wound with all the cold calculation of scientist observing an experiment. Her jaw set.

"No. Are you saying you would have helped him?"

A laugh, with a slightly unhinged note of hysteria to it, issued from her lips, giving a rather clear indication of what she thought about the rhetorical question.

You're starting to lose it, Evie.

She wasn't entirely sure that mattered; three days of little sleep, a multi-hour bender, emotional duress, and now some Sith trying to manipulate her while a crowd gathered to watch . . . was it any surprise that she was feeling so off-balance? Still, she took another step back- partially behind and to the side of the Mandalorian.