Common Ground

[Sin]

Solemnly he allowed his extended palm to travel along the smooth railing of the balcony upon which he found himself. A month... he whispered to his own mind, a month had been since his dearest sister had vanished. Deidera... it was all he could accomplish to restrain his growing fury. Faith, however, would see him through. Whatever force or power had stolen his sister so quickly from him would come to ruin, of this he was certain. In one form or another he would retake his relation. The movement time was all that was required.

Perfection over darkness, vanishing so quick; Stolen from my view, some aweful creature's trick. In time all life will suffer, as I reclaim dearest heart; And we shall laugh as this world ends, and never will we part.

He cast his glance back out over the expanse of the ledge. Coruscant was such a disgusting city, meat moved freely, and in every corner there was life. Life that had no respect for what they had, no care for the gift they had been given. Wasted lives, wasted forms... his vision narrowed as he watched them, and found himself once more lost in his hate. To simply wipe them from the face of this world, of ALL worlds - ah what a joyous ocassion that will be. A clean universe.

The restaurant to his back was 'upper class', not that the cattle could truly understand such a term, and as much as it pained him to even walk amongst them - he still required sustenance. He had requested his meal be brought to him here. He would allow none of the 'patrons' to watch him eat.

Why should he bother, after all? When soon their lives would be as dust.

[Hawkins Grime]

The man hit the ground with a thud, struggling to push himself out of the muck of the alley. A boot came against his neck and his face was pushed down into the puddle it had rested a few inches above before. For some measure of comfort, the man turned his face to the side. He thought the alley he had taken would've led him to a sewer access beside that nice resteraunt he could never afford. He knew the top level sewer accesses well enough by now. But then the one with his boot on the man's neck, had appeared out of nowhere and this alley had obviously been the wrong alley, well, on the wrong side of the building at least.

Two men were looming above him, the one he was trying not to look at had been following him since this morning. And then he'd disappeared during lunch only to appear inside his house later that day. House, more like studio apartment that was way too overrated.

A ghastly sight, the man was unnaturally tall in all black, and his face was like a doll's face in that it seemed almost porcelain perfect and what few facial expressions the man had made, were not natural. And then he had known his name, and his other name.

"I-I-I... You gotta have the wrong... guy..."

"No."

The voice was better compared to a man who had already been burnt to a crisp and given the ability to talk afterwards, with no ease involved.

"No, Zed. I have... the right guy."

It was unnaturally hot. Looking around, the dingy alley seemed to be wavy, like a mirage in a desert or when one looked down a hot street in the middle of the day.

"How-h-h-how do you kn-n-n-now me?"

"Hyddijjer. You worked for him."

The man's mouth opened against the ground in a muttered murmur, eyes wide, as a long curved blade came down across his vision and split his skin horizontally.

"Step back from that body, e'Drein."

The other man stepped away and Grime's artificial lip lifted in a sneer as he turned the corpse's split skull for better viewing.

One more name to sractch off on the list. It was a long list though. Not that Grime was complaining or tired of it. No, Hawkins Grime was more than happy to add every name of every person he'd met or never meet to the list and just set the galaxy on fire. They deserved it. All of them. Nothing was innocent in this life, nothing was free and for what he had paid and endured, they all deserved a fitting end, to die as many times as he has.

The rolling torrent of hatred and constant pain, unforgettable and always there, struggled to devour more of his thoughts but he diverted it, like turning the tide of a tsunami of lava, from himself and upon the corpse beside him. His suffering and aggression slid off of him, like a wall of heat hotter than the atmosphere Grime was already irritating to such a degree, and it fell upon the corpse. A spark of impulsive disgust and desire to destroy ignited his passion and Zed the dead guy was engulfed in flame. The smell of burnt flesh instantly rose into the air.

Morrolan e'Drein held his arm over his mouth and nose from the smell and Grime looked up to watch smoke trail into the air, beyond a balcony just above them. Someone would sound some kind of alarm in a brief enough time.

"It's time to be scarce, e'Drein."

[Sin]

He allowed his senses to linger as he stood looking out at this worthless planet, and found his offactory sense most intrigued.

At least the cuisine shall be good. he pondered to no one but the breeze which carried the aroma. His hand glanced his face and thoughtfully began to stroke his chin. Although... I was not aware that this restaurant carried long pork. Something interesting was occuring in the streets below him, his curious side required satiating - far more now, than his appetite. He turned from the open air to head back into the dimly lit establishment, just in time to see his bantha steak be brought out.

Keep it warm... or don't. He waved off the waitress as if she were an insect to be swatted, and as predictible as these creatures were, she began.

"Sir? Is there something not to your liking? Certainly we can..."

HUSH. The word was spoken as a command, and just as quickly she obeyed. There is something that requires my immediate attention, and I find I have lost my appetite... for what you offer.

"If you insist sir, however if we could get you to pay before you go as we have already prepa...."

He spoke no words, just turned sharply, glaring behind crimson prisons. Her words ceased and she turned away. "Your meal will of course be complimentary, sir."

Of course it will. He grabbed his dark jacket as he walked away from her, tossing it on quickly. He could wait no longer, he had to find out what lie in wait for the curious few. Exiting the lower floor of the restaurant he once more took pause to appreciate the air around him. It was stronger here, and oh so delicious. Death mixed with hate, an almost intoxicating experience. He quickly turned into the alley, to find two men preparing a most haste exit from the scene.

He cast his glance at the smoldering body, and then at the two who were surely responsible. His eyes fixed upon the larger of the two, an impressive figure, though the hate that flowed around him was what immediately drew his attention.

Leaving so quickly? He took a step forward, a suddenly very interested expression cast behind his leather restraint. Had the larger man even heard his question? There was doubt, as it almost felt like hitting a wall as he attempted to speak it to both men's minds.

[Hawkins Grime]

Morrolan looked somewhat confused as he looked to the newcomer, his slugthrower already out in one hand and a throwing knife was between the fingers of his other hand. They were both aimed in their own fashion at the newcomer but he was caught off guard and alarmed by it. How often does one... hear a voice like that?

"Beat it, e'Drein."

Morrolan looked back to the taller man beside him uneasily but stepped back, his gun holstered with a cat like grace and the knife disappeared like water into the sleeve of his jacket. He pulled the edges of his gloves down and frowned in the direction of the other man before dashing away down the side alley beside them.

The porcelain face turned away from the fleeting image of Morrolan e'Drein and to the man who had whispered through the haze of Grime's mind. Hawkins hadn't understood a word of what was said but it had been voiced, a thought, vocalized, yet nothing coherent to the hatred and opaque pain that permeated the air around Hawkins. And he, for the most part, didn't care and didn't have the time of day to decipher the telepathic nonsense while they stood around at the scene of Grime's most recent crime.

"Meet me at the Riinok Market Docking facility in two hours."

[Sin]

Most intriguing. He was calm, collected - almost serene for a man who had just lit another ablaze.

"Meet me at the Riinok Market Docking facility in two hours."

Yes, a meeting... it would be for the best. Somewhere, where they could attempt there communication again. He cocked his head slowly, giving him a hard look over. In many ways it was like watching your reflection in a cloudy mirror. Some aspects remain unchanged, familiar, while others seemed completely alien. Oh he would have things to discuss with this one, that was certain. He would make no attempt to speak with him again, not here, as it was clear his words had not been understood.

Instead he simply bowed, sweeping his coat outwards and behind him in a show of... what was that word? He used it so rarely, ah yes, respect.

Turning he headed away, he would see him again. Two hours from now.

[Hawkins Grime]

The light of Coruscant was being dimmed as per regulated devices that kept the entire city of a planet on the same time line. But the pulse of Coruscant was not affected by the time of day. The Riinok Market was an industrial and commercial area known for cargo and shipping deals made to more remote areas. The Docking facility was extensive but easy to navigate as the facility handled such large shipments that instead of private docking bays, it was merely one large arena that could fit eight freighters within it and two cruisers on either side of it. Regardless, it was not of the most esteemed respect in its caliber of clients and ongoings.

Hired workhands shuffled to and fro as they loaded cargo onto the Malevolent Wyvern. They'd been working for sometime already and they still had a little under half left to go. The YT-1930 could carry 200 tons of cargo in its holds, this shipment was only 140 tons, and it had still been almost an hour. The wait wasn't a problem though, they had plenty of time.

Two men watched over the proceedings, e'Drein stood inside the ship, lounging by the weapons locker. Ithiel Malchiel stood by the crates outside, the tall man was more stoic than Grime was, with his arms crossed, fingers idly resting on the hilts of his holstered slugthrowers. The workhands looked nervously about them as they moved the cargo inside the gun metal ship. They couldn't tell if the two men were watching them like cats about to pounce or just statues, solemnly observing ants as they went about their business. The other man is what really had their nerves shaken. He commanded the other two with as few words as possible and they followed them without any kind of response and his voice was like someone who had sandpaper lining their throat. e'Drein had handled most of the dealings with the Dock Authorities and the taller man with the pale face had thrown something close to a tantrum everytime until the Dock Authorities had more than compromised to his demands. The workhands would've like to have observed it as simply a tantrum, but for the feeling that every threat and curse he made seemed more than just simply a threat. The Dock Authority present at the time must have picked up on the same because after agreeing to the demands, he had left anxiously with sweat visible upon face. But that had been around the time the dockhands had begun to work and now the man with the pale face stood in the orange sunlight coming through the open awning above that the ships normally travelled through.

Hawkins Grime stood there, his cloak concealing however his body was configured beneath it, his face shadowed by the wide brim of his hat. He'd just walked there a few minutes ago and seemed to be waiting for something to occur.

[Sin]

It had been what seemed like an eternity to a curious and impatient man. Two hours had come and gone however, and he now found himself at this Riinok Market Docking facility. He frowned behind his mask at so much walking meat, moving things, shipping things, it was disgusting. However his task at hand would be worth this trip into Hell. Standing a short distance ahead, surrounded by the flittering little insects.

MOVE The words echoed across their synapsis, and he got a deep seated joy from watching them scatter about, rather shocked and helpless. A smile creeped across his shattered face and he looked upon the pale face of the man from before.

Greetings once more... He focused harder this time, trying desperately to get the words past the unique defense of his mind. This time, perhaps he would hear him.

[Hawkins Grime]

Greetings once more...

It was like a whisper, barely audible beneath even the faint heartbeat and methodical rhythym of Grime's life support. But he heard it this time because his weary eyes had caught sight of the black figure approaching moments ago and the attempt at telepathy had been much more acute this time in its attempt at reaching him.

Grime trusted no one. Not even e'Drein or Malchiel. As long as Grime maintained his dominant position over them, he would trust his ability to keep them in line. Trust himself and their reactions, never upon their own initiative. In this case, what was this man about? A force adept obviously, which sparked Grime's interest beyond a handfull so far, but what else was to this man... thing? Grime hated surprises, especially ones he could've just dealt with from the get go. e'Drein and Malchiel were a distance away but not far enough that their weapons were of no use, and they were watching with one eye open, as ordered, always. Maybe this thing had brought the authorities with it? Maybe it was an Imperial spy. How could someone trust another when there was only one possible benefit and so many darker possibilities in contrast?

Grime wasn't inclined to be polite or courteous, his composure, stifled to stoicism as he struggled to curb the waves of hatred and paranoia, to keep from openly detesting reality itself.

"I am Grime. What is your business?"

[Sin]

This time it seemed his new friend HAD heard him. It would hasten their conversations, to say the least. He bowed slightly, showing respect reserved for only himself, and in this instance for the being he had come to regard as his shadow.

Sin. He maintained the level of focus he had kept in his last communication. You intrigue me. It is uncommon for myself to encounter someone with a nature that interests me, as yours does. Usually I deal with the living filth that infests our existence, you however are something far more.

He began his track towards the man before him. Your hatred is so pure. I enjoy that, it's quite pleasant. A few workers scattered away, his will was present all around him, forcing itself into the dark recesses of the weak minds about himself. But not this one, not this Grime. More curiousness. He was a puzzle, and Sin desparately enjoyed puzzles. We could be of assistance to one another.

[Hawkins Grime]

It was like listening to someone whispering to someone else when the man talked. More telepathy. Maybe force adepts usually talked in this manner? Grime, however, was incapable of it though, De'Ville having left him in the dark as far as this matter was concerned. He left that dark bitterness concerning his master to fester as it did in the back of his mind as he strained to hear the thing that called itself Sin. The other workers nearby scampered off like the rats they were; Grime would readily agree with Sin on that point, he was something more than... the filth infesting reality as it had been put so articulately. The thing said more that Grime heard but cared less and less about. Until the end.

We could be of assistance to one another.

His bloodshot eyes, set behind the perfect, porcelain face were reflected back at him, just the glean of them, in the dark red glass that Sin viewed the world through. Hawkins skin crawled beneath his exoskeleton, his hands twitched and he could feel the muscles in his back tensing uncontrollably. Although none of this was readily apparent as it occured beneath the folds of his cloak, the exoskeleton displaying no visible signs. Grime's hatred twisted within him as if it were something alive beneath his muscles, as if it were acid in his blood, reminding him of the pain that it was to be alive. And that someone enjoyed it. That it was quite pleasant. And many had before. But it wasn't the same. This one, Sin, relished in Grime's very hatred. Not that which caused it. Hawkins felt it was necessary to negotiate this with himself, with his hatred. Or else, given enough time, the hatred and sheer will to destroy would turn Sin's words into a conceivable perspective, demanding Sin's execution as it did of so many others who had relished in what had made Grime into Grime. Hawkins needed to be hasty about it before that did happen.

"How can you help me?"

[Sin]

My current goal. He articulated, coming ever closer to the puzzle that so interested him. Is that of destruction, in purpose that of the worthless life who's very existence we must suffer through, and I seek it's end. I feel as if this is an issue we can agree upon.

He reached the man, and let the muscles of his neck crane his head ever so slightly. Curiouser and Curiouser, it was not a natural face. His mirror seemed to be entrapped within a prison as well, much as he had been. I have the tools to accomplish this, mostly - however, sharing resources and information could be invaluable. Unless I have misjudged you.

He took one step back and waited in silence, he knew this Grime would not dissapoint him. The rage he felt emmited from him was raw, but intense, and merely needed focus. A focus that could easily come with the passage of time. Beings like us - better beings - should not have to endure them. He motioned towards the bustling metropolis - its cattle moving busily about their lives.

[Hawkins Grime]

Everyone else had a goal. This one, Sin, and De'Ville, all had their own motives, their own list-of-things-to-do. Didn't Grime just look like he had all the free time in the world?!

...destruction... worthless life... existence... must suffer through... seek it's end... I feel... we can agree...

A soft crease formed as the artificial facial features shifted barely to sadly convey the twisted convulsions of tormented flesh beneath. Grime blinked rapidly in frustrated effort to hear every word this soft speaker had to say but Hawkins determined quickly enough that his rage was inversely proportional to his ability to listen to this telepath. And just knowing that didn't make things any easier either.

But all together, Grime did agree. Destruction. De'Ville wanted destruction, destruction of her enemies, the Empire, to further her goals. She put herself on some pedastal, Grime knew, how he knew, but she was as much of a monster for it as he was, wallowing in his tortured existence. An existence he was determined to destroy for the pain it had brought upon him. Not his own existence, but everthing else, reality itself, and he would tear it down by tooth and nail if he could.

...tools...accomplish...however, sharing resources... be invaluable. Unless... misjudged you...

What was there to judge?! What did this man think he knew of Grime? What presumptions had he already made? Where was this really going? At what angle did goggleface the sinner view Grime and everything else? Was he really on the level with Grime, even at all? Or was this a trap? Another trap? What kind of bargain, what kind of resources could this thing have that Grime would be interested in? What tools?

The next part came through clearly, as if it was on the same wavelength as Grime perfectly.

Beings like us - better beings - should not have to endure them.

Oh but Grime had. Where had this sinner been then, when Grime had suffered and denied the release of death and forced to perpetuate a new Hell in himself while he plotted to unleash it even now?! No. Grime should not have had to endure anything of the sort. But he had. And now everything and anything would pay for it.

And thus, Grime had his agenda. And Sin said he was on par and played the same game. But Grime hired help that didn't talk much, Malchiel and e'Drein included, and this one talked a lot. Meaning he thought, Hawkins didn't care much how well Sin thought, it was simply that Sin had a thought process and was therefore more liable to betray him.

"Splendid. What did you have in mind?"

'Splendid' bled with sarcasm but Hawkins needed more convincing before he played anything in his hand.

[Sin]

There was still much left unanswered about his new partner, this Grime. Perhaps in the passage of time he would uncover truths yet unseen. He extended his palm towards the wretched city again, and once more began his speach. Ever vigilante to assure the words would reach his most difficult of companions.

A spectacle of chaos. behind his leather prison his shattered lips turned upwards, finding great pleasure in even the mere thoughts that filled his mind. An act of terrorism most grande. I have, at my disposal, those willing to lay down their lives. And lay them down, these fools shall. I still have need, however, of one other fleeting resource.

He regarded Grime cooly for a moment, eyes locked upon the porcelain face before him, Explosives.

[Hawkins Grime]

Grime's bloodshot eyes glanced over the other man at that last word. It came through clear and well but set Grime on guard further. Possibly a port authority agent or some Imperial agent scoping Grime's business for any cracks in the system? The man had been personally intrigued with the sight from the alley and now he was going straight to the point. While Grime was more than glad to deal with someone who didn't waste time trying to dance around the main topic, but Grime was more than cautious.

The most convincing factor was that this man used the Force and so many in the Imperial's employ were against the very notion and even then, Grime hadn't attracted enough personal attention as of yet to be deserving of such an agent that would be so prized in the shadows of the Empire. Just maybe, if that Inquisitoriate whelp had caught whiff of him.

But as to actually acquiring the explosives, that was a much easier task to accomplish. Explosives were easy to acquire on the Market and even then, simply buying nonspecific materials and making your own was just as convenient, and more often harder to track if it ever came down to that.

The fools at Sin's disposal... If he thought he was being clever and included Grime or any of his crew in that label, Sin was dead wrong and then some. His paranoia would never let that one go either. He needed something to satisfy his raging demons to progress further upon Sin's plan.

"Explosives are obtainable. Where are your bodies that are willing to lay down and die?"

[Sin]

"Explosives are obtainable. Where are your bodies that are willing to lay down and die?"

With a quirked tip of his leather clad face he frowned. He did not have any of his possessions with him at this time. It would be most difficult to acquire someone to present at this point - the need to secure Mr. Grime's cooperation was vital, therefore action must be taken!

About in their meaningless lives, until I call upon them. Each convinced of their own 'uniqueness.' If your interested is so piqued, I can have one at my command within the day for you to see.

A soundless sigh escaped shattered lips, and he brought his digits to rest upon his brow.

I must thank the Empire at some point. Their removal of the Jedi has provided a multitude of untrained and rather stupid adepts who are easily manipulated.

[Grym Kandle]

yeah, Grym, Grime, so similar, too bad Hawkins Grime isn't that similar... delete maybe? :D thx

[Hawkins Grime]

Grime shrugged.

"Well enough."

His agreement was there subtley beneath the lack of consideration in his tone. And beneath that crinkly paper noise whispered from his throat in a sigh after that.

Grime knew something of playing on the sheep. He had lost it a few times, driven bystanders mad and infuriated others, even started quarrels but nothing ever so controlled and Grime could never seem to sense anything, as in reading their minds or empathetically feeling what they might be feeling. Hawkins was only capable of sharing his irritating existence like a pestilence, a mental plague. If Sin could actually do it...

"Now what then? You're not coming on my ship so..."

Grime paused to bend slightly at the waist and cough a sick dry heave of blood against his pearly white artificial teeth. He turned back to Sin, a little more frustrated than before, if that was possible to believe.

"... So quickly. I've got some shipments to make, you already have something to explode in mind?"

Grime dropped the notion that if Sin didn't make himself drop line efficient and down to business with this cooperative effort, then Grime had better things to do in his own time and could still accomplish the same thing. Grime was impatient as it was and he wanted to see the bigger picture Sin seemed to be describing through so few words sooner than later. Explosives were not something to go pick up and then sit around with them in your back pocket for three weeks.

[Sin]

Deep curves pressed into his face as his mouth fell into a frown. Mr. Grime was all business it would appear. A sad trait that he would work out of him, perhaps. Business was of importance, however one must take time to enjoy that which surround them.

Stretching a leather clad hand into the breast pocket of his jacket he revealed a boarding pass. Galaxy's Jewel: First class it was typed out so plainly, no additional meaning or joy to its words, all business - much like his dear Mr. Grime had so become. He extended it to the foggy reflection of his own soul that stand before him.

Words would be uneccesary for this explanation.

[Hawkins Grime]

Grime made it half way through reading the pass before he started to cough. And then he was bent over, coughing, hacking, whatever he was doing, with his hands on his knees. In a moment he was down to a knee and a mix of blood and bile was dripping freely from his mouth to the ground. It would've been hard to tell that it had started as Grime's laughter and now resulted in only another reminder of why Hawkins Grime hated life.

A moment passed, and then another before it ceased and Grime shakily rose to his feet, producing a black tattered cloth that he sloppily wiped his face with.

"I'm convinced... Sai, on the target. Families. Happy people, even depressed people, all thinking they're on some trip... to get away from it all. They'll rot in the vacuum. All of those..."

It was something equivalent to nashing teeth as Hawkins fought down another outburst; the heat in the air was remarkably notable at this point. Ithiel Malchiel was walking towards them slowly in response to it, a solemn sentinel with Grime's well being in mind alone. But Grime saw the movement and raised a hand to halt the advance and the porcelain face slowly nodded towards Sin.

"A contract then... a partnership..."

[Sin]

"A contract then... a partnership..."

The dark prison that housed his face nodded in agreement, and a leather clad hand extended towards Grime. They had an accord then, and they would make the universe weep.

I do believe, Mr. Grime. That this could be the beginning of a very beneficial, and rewarding relationship.