Closing Early, Vacation Crisis Pt I

[Hawkins Grime]

The black speeder came to a halt outside the small bar and all four doors opened with a casaual ease. The engine idled a moment and then shut off, the craft having already settled and locked in place. The back unfolded further to allow more space for the disembarking passengers. The man taking the lead of the group was tall and lanky, his movements concealed beneath his cape, curved spikes jutted from each shoulder into the air and his hat had a wide brim, leaving his face in the shadows for the most part.

The others immediately in tow of Grime were Morrolan e'Drein and Valeria Tur'ilian. The other two taking their time at the speeder were Kroma and Ithiel Malchiel. They wouldn't leave it either. Grime doubted the massive droid, Kroma, could fit through the front doors of the establishment either. If Grime needed the droid, Kroma wouldn't need to worry about that though. The thought that the droid would consider using their rented speeder to make a new door almost made Grime wince, and only because he knew it was more of a possibility than not. That was why Ithiel was there. Hawkins wasn't even sure if he believed that Kroma would actually listen to any sense Malchiel might make either if it wasn't for Grime saying that Ithiel was temporarily in charge in case of Grime's absence.

Grime stood outside the front entrance for a moment, one side of his face was just barely drawn up in a sneer; the marred skin beneath his artificial face was actually in a quite the contrary. It crawled in feverish frustration beneath the porcelain face the rest of the world was priviledged with seeing in turn.

Sin. He should be inside. If anything was wrong, anything at all, Grime and his men would tear the place down brick by brick and be on their way. It had been two weeks since they had met on Coruscant and now Grime stood on Nar Shadda. The planets were similarly swarmed by the masses but were galaxies apart in comparison and style. Grime hated both, preffered neither. Grime had watched a star go nova on a holovid once and Hawkins could think of nothing more pleasant to see happen to any planet that was even remotely inhabited, much less layered in the filth.

Another man should also be inside. Although Sin would be unaware of it unless he read the man's mind. A contact had been... recommended to be waiting at this bar this very evening to assist a business venture of Grime's.

That business venture was very delicate and required a little contracting on Grime's part. Hawkins could provide a wide majority of the supplies needed using his established position in the Black Market and e'Drein's satellite office on Nar Shadda. Grime even managed to have Rowan make all the trigger devices. Now they needed to lease a sweatshop to construct them all to a finished product, home made explosives. Not the strongest but given what they would initially ignite, well enough.

Speaking of things igniting. Grime wasn't hesitating, it was a perverted fashion of meditating actually. He was allowing his mood to fester, giving it time for the rage and hatred that ran through him like blood to catch fire. Hawkins had no intention of being political correct or polite about any of this.

[Sin]

Infested city, vermin reined. A plague of life, it's beauty stained.
To wipe it clean, and free from life - a joyous thought, though cast in strife.

He allowed the words to roll over in his mind, inspecting each one carefully in their symphonic choosing. He had, had enough time to compose a few simple pieces while waiting on his associate - the dear Mr. Grime. None spectacular, few even worth remembering - it did allow the passage of time while he was forced to wait with the filth that frequented establishments such as these.

Beside him a greasy and utterly incompetant youth found entertainment by playing with the local eating utensils. Sin's refined eyes tried not to give him much heed as he balanced a fork upon the flesh of his chin. He seemed so proud of himself too. He had any number of followers who would gladly serve, though few were aware of their eventual fate, he liked those few however. Life that realized its worthless nature, and wished to at least contribute to something of grander importance. THIS creature... was not one of those.

Rev Palidax. Sin wondered deeply if the boy were in fact mentally retarded, or at least more so than other such life forms. While his thoughts pondered the meaninglessness of the boy next to him, his reason for actually being upon this wretched dreg of a planet arrived.

Mr. Grime. He spoke to his reflection, and his unique entourage - just to be sure if Grime had difficulty hearing him again, one of the others would relay the communication. He unfurled his leathery hand and waved him over with a small motion. They did have so very much to discuss.

[Morrolan e'Drein]

Nar Shadda seemed different to him now. Morrolan saw only the worst of life, and the decay of civilization in the throngs of people around the area.

He shook his head and smiled inwardly. Yes, Grime was definitely a bad influence.

The choice of their meeting place seemed less about strategy and more about convenience to him; this certain nightspot was certainly nothing to shout about. Its layout mimicked all the rest in the quarter: walls lined with booths, the occasional deuce scattered about, and a very prominent central bar.

The trio stopped right inside the entranceway, Grime halting until he saw their assumed rendezvous wave them over.

As they strolled around the left side of the bar, Morrolan took a moment to straighten the collar on his shirt, and to run a hand back through his hair as per his usual ritual. He tightened the buckle at his left bicep that held his new armor securely in place. Personally, he thought it quite a piece of work. It consisted of nothing more than a plate pauldron and quilting that covered his upper arm; but Morrolan found himself always a collector of oddities, and this scavenged piece suited his tastes well.

As they came upon the table, Morrolan and Valeria hung back a few feet, as per Grime’s instructions. Grime stood for a second, nodded a greeting, then gracefully sat opposite the man in black and his tablemate.

[KROMA Mk2]

KROMA waited for Ithiel to finish with the speeder. He was detailed by the master to function as rear guard during their stay on the planet. Imperatives involving Malchiel had also been given, however there was only space enough for one to hold master access. That sequence had already been allocated. Override deemed inexecutable. The drumming turmoil in KROMA's shell saw to it that Malchiels status was the least of his priorities. Luckily for them all, that wave was minimal.

He watched in silence as the master and units e'Drein and Tur'ilian advanced towards the meeting zone. KROMA's mainframe began to pull up data on the local topology of Nar Shadda. He had detailed files on local ports, cities and lifeforms. Atmosphereic content levels and prevalent resources were also available. Precautions were a must in preventing the breach of any operation.

>locAssess[]||NARSHADDA||[]

The wind slightly moved the synthetic fibers on his head. He had entirely too much time to ponder upon their existance. After each thought mechanic he concluded that they made him look more organic. Irony. He was inhuman. Cybernetic. It would be blasphemy to consider this iron terror as anything close to organic. He preferred it that way. However, if he hung his head beneath the thick collar of his trenchcoat, one might mistake him for a rather large person. The hair masked the simple metallic features of his face, leaving only the lights from his eyes visible. His everchanging eyes. Right now they remained a soft yellow hue of content.

Once master Grime had entered the building KROMA took up a position just on the otherside of the main door. He was clearly too large to enter, and would cause too much of a scene with the gear noises emanating from his hull. The decibal level would outperform that of standard conversation atmosphere. As a result he leaned up against a wall adjacent to the door and began another calculating assessment:


How many newton-tons of force would it require to crush this wall down?

[Hawkins Grime]

Grime grimaced in greeting, a small display of his pearly artificial teeth which didn't necessarily constitute a smile as it did a sneer.

"Sin. I see you've got your... partner, present. He looks ecstatic to be here..."

Grime coughed again, covering his mouth with his arm which resulted in a spittle of blood and bile coating his arm. He grabbed a napkin and slowly wiped the armor plating off before letting the napkin fall to the side.

When the crumpled napkin fell to the table, his metal hands had left charred imprints where it had been held.

[Rev Palidax]

Place stunk - had that kind of homely smell, ya' know? I don't exactly mind it, reminds me of home and places I've frequented since I was just a pipsqueek

Yo. Name's Palidax, Rev Palidax - and I'm gonna be the most awesome Sith this universe has ever seen, you can start bowing now if you want. I'm sitting in this run-down dive on Nar Shadda waiting for my Master's uhhh... friends to show up. We're supposed to have this big meeting about plans, and materials. See I'm gonna be part of something BIG, Sin here, Darth Sin - whatever man, is planning on doing some major demolition. I'm gonna deliver the charges - Universe is gonna learn to fear the name Rev Palidax!

Speak of the devils, there they are. I hadn't met these bozos before - Sin'd told me about em though, or at least the big player here. Tall guy who'd just sat down is 'Mr. Grime.', Master Sin'd also said to be respectful to this one, or I might not be around very long. Eh, he didn't look that tough - coughing up a storm, wiping blood away, not so tough at all. I caught sight of the napkin as it fell and noticed where it had started burning. Okay maybe he was a little tougher than I thought.

Straightening up I watched, and just kept my mouth shut. Sin said he preferred that I not speak. Hey, he was the boss - I was just the lowly apprentice - for now. So I did what he told me to.

[Sin]

The stoic figure allowed his gaze to wander to his young charge, and for the briefest of moments actually wondered what young Palidax was thinking. Probably something immensely foolish, something about monkies. The slightest of smiles crossed shattered lips and he nodded as Grime sat down. Stretching one hand towards Palidax he moved the muscles of his neck in just a slight enough turn to give the boy a passing look.

Mr. Grime, allow me to introduce Rev Palidax my.... he turned back to look at Grime and Grime alone. Apprentice. Now. Shall we get to the business at hand, or shall we enjoy the, behind leather constraints he sneered minimally and gave a quick glance about the establishment, ambience.

[Hawkins Grime]

"No, business first. I have some plans that will take care of entertainment needs later."

Grime leaned back and looked over his shoulder to e'Drein and waved him on. That was the signal for e'Drein to go unceremoniously retrieve the small man who was most likely twiddling his thumbs in a booth on the other side of the bar, and bring him over to this side and deposit him beside Grime so that they would be able to get down to business.

The small man's name was Harley Gifget. He was known for being a shrewd businessman and very resourceful, despite his meekness, cowardly sort of stuttered speech, and his tendency to backstab when not intimidated or paid enough. To say the least, Grime and his entourage had left well enough of an impression upon the first encounter. This was the third and Grime paid well enough twice before, why stop a nice influx? The man was short for even a human, balding but with long white hair trailing down anyways. The goggles he wore were obviously not just for aesthetic reasons but Grime could care less what they were for. He looked poorer than he was but that was something else Grime hadn't a care for. All he needed was the man's business, not for him to attempt to hide the fact that he was a miserable piece of trash.

[Morrolan e'Drein]

With Grime’s gesture, Morrolan spun on his heels and walked the long way around the bar. Their business “colleague” was found sitting along in a deuce, staring through a tall glass of the local green ale. He was greeted by the hilt of Morrolan’s long throwing knife resting against the back of his neck and a cool whisper into his right ear.

“We await your company, Mr. Gifget.”

The knife went back up Morrolan’s right sleeve as Harley stood quickly.

Turning to face his escort, Gifget looked up at him through his weathered, dusty goggles.

“Let’s get on then.”

Together they walked around the bar slowly. As they worked their way around the area closest to the door, Mr. Gifget turned to look at his now abandoned drink, sitting lonely on the table.

“Just come on, I’ll buy you another one.”

Morrolan gently pushed him forward with his fist and they finally appeared back at the table.

[Sin]

Drumming his digits harshly against the table he permitted time to pass freely - patiently waiting for their business to begin in earnest. And finally, the figure was brought to them. An even more scrawny and pathetic looking man than most he encountered, this was the being who would assist them in their noble goals? However, Sin was many things - a fool not one of them, behind the most worthless exterior true value, or as much as life could gather to itself, could be found.

He nodded promptly and 'politely' to the man, more a show of ritual than of actual care or concern.

A pleasure.

[Hawkins Grime]

Morrolan dropped the man into the seat beside Grime and then reappeared as soon as Sin had made his acknowledgement/greeting with a drink for the old man. Grime tilted his head to the Gifget who returned a grimace to all of them. None of the people at the table at this moment were necessarily pleasant people, and even then, the youth at Sin's side wasn't much of a person in Hawkins' opinion. It was like Sin just had a meat stick beside him, a breathing, talking bag of meat wrapped around a skeletal structure.

Harley stirred beside Grime, taking in another gulp of his drink to cool him off. He wasn't sweating from the obvious adept across the table from him, the one speaking with his mind and not his tongue like every other right person. The adept got to him but it always seemed to be so infernally hot when Harley pulled business with Mr. Grime.

"Well, business then, eh? Mr. Grime, I'm confident you have the rancor hash for this expidition then? And what are you bringing into this cooperative effort then, Mr... Sin, was it?"

"Money. He's bringing more money."

Grime's eyes went from Gifget to Sin slowly and then back to Gifget.

"And yes, Mr. Gifget, I have the hash for hunting the beasts, you have the task force then, lined up for making the packaging?"

"Yes, yes, yes, of course Mr. Grime, as you said, all ready."

"How long?"

"A week, two at the most."

"And the sample bonus you mentioned, you brought it?"

Gifget smiled, mischeviously in Hawkins' opinion, as he reached inside his vest and drew out a canister that had a safety device clamped about it. The capsule, under the locks of the device, had yellow tape wrapped around its middle that had the universal bio-hazard sign etched into it in some vibrant, grotesque fashion as to catch the eye of anyone idiot enough to tamper with it.

"Specially ordered, Mr. Grime. Yes, yes, quite the special order, here."

If anything else wasn't obviously dangerous about it, that it had what was a poor attempt at removing a seal of the Imperial Army from the safety device only made the room close in a little more on the small table.

[Rev Palidax]

I had to give em all a good once over, try to get a real feel for the crowd, ya' know? Most seemed like thugs, goons, and general bad guys - the Grime guy though - Sin'd mentioned things about him. Being this close to him, it all felt pretty real. The dork they'd brought over though, GEEEEZ. I mean, I guess I can see him being pretty necessary to the big guy's plans long term.

I let most of what they had to say go in one ear and out the other, the technical stuff I'm not so big on. I just gotta know the when, where and how of our little excursion, being the point man for the whole deal after all. The dork pulled out something rather nasty looking - and THAT caught my attention. The bright warning symbol was pretty hard to miss. If he hadn't had such a tight grip on it, I may have even considered trying to touch it - it was AWESOME looking.

"Specially ordered, Mr. Grime. Yes, yes, quite the special order, here."

I couldn't help but smile, the whole thing was gonna be a blast.

[Sin]

Palidax began to grin in a madly cheshire way, stupid - foolish boy. So assured of his own future that he had blinded himself to the events transpiring before his very vision. The self-assured so rarely see their fate. The thoughts were kept private, a mere passing concept upon his own mind. He listened carefully to what his new associate, Mr. Gifget had to say in regard to all of their plans.

It seemed that this Gifget had not yet come to fully trust the black clad figure before his eyes. Perhaps the wisest thought the waste of flesh had ever managed to squeeze from his mind. Grime was quick to dismiss such concepts in his usual way, almost a joy to see his reflection work. So quickly snuffing out ideas he found distasteful.

He allowed himself a genuine smile as the chemical was brought forth - their 'sample'.

We will of course test it, to assure it is of premier quality. He uncurled his fingers as he conversed, cocking his head slightly as his vision remained transfixed upon the vial before him.

[Hawkins Grime]

"Yes... A test, of course, but lets refine our plans together so that... we're all on the same page first..."

Grime's eyes shifted to the bartender, a patron, and the manager, all hunched together at the other side of the bar talking, and now and then turning glances over here. Grime wasn't just paranoid about things, he was just secure in his career choices.

"Sin... would you mind, telling them to take their conversation into the back room?"

Grime's ability to mentally command people was limited due to his... extraordinary mental dilemma concerning the threshold of pain and existing frustration he constantly maintained. He could share it with others, leaving them crippled and numb to anything pleasant or joyful in their world. Sin on the other hand seemed very inclined to the realm of mental empathy that Grime was not. Sin had demonstrated enough that he had no disability in using the Force to tamper with the minds of simpletons.

[Sin]

The understanding was clear and almost beautiful, his pleasure at the suggestion grew as it caressed his mind. A most wonderful of all ideas. Standing silently he nodded to his tall companion and walked over to the altogether too curious congregation.

Apologies all around, he cared not of their sensibilities, but the matter at hand is one most pressing - and I must insist that you move yourselves into the back room.

The words were not polite, they were not suggestions - and only the strongest of wills would not be moved by what Sin pressed upon their feeble minds. With a haze to their tainted opticals they simply nodded, and moved themselves where Sin had directed.

[Hawkins Grime]

Grime watched the door close and seal behind them with a hiss and his disposition slowly turned back to the table. His mouth was dry, of course it was, because for the most part, the entire thing was artificial, but he could feel and he hated it. Grime wanted to hit this table and burn every living thing in sight on the simple impulse of hatred that was borne from even something as simple as his mouth being dry. Most never had a chance to see, but the black tongue in his mouth wasn't even his. The pearl white teeth weren't his. The long glossy brown hair wasn't even his either. Grime felt despair actually collapsing upon him in that small span of time and his will to survive, to continue living in nothing but misery, struggled to surface and overcome even the slightest cases of depression because Grime knew, he knew he was capable of anything, anything.

=======

The universe exploded.

CENSORED cried out in abhorrent pain as the vibroscalpel removed the last muscular string of his tongue. They'd been sawing at it for almost an hour now. The amputation gel they had filled his mouth with was of course stopping all the bleeding and only making it harder for them to cut. Of course, if they had simply turned the vibro function of the scalpel on, it would've gone much easier altogether.

Half of CENSORED's face was scraped away by now and he still had the tubes rammed up his nose providing that sickening gas that just wouldn't let him pass out into the dark abyss and beyond. They'd been giving him drugs for the same thing, but they switched it out so that his body kept suffering from a mental shock from all the new drugs, it was warping his concentration. No longer did CENSORED utter snide remarks or retorts to their slander. No longer did he search their faces for any fear in what they were doing; his tormenters were too confident, too sure that this half dead rag doll would not come back for them.

He never lost that slightest strand, that single thread of hope that he would one day return and call down upon these disgusting whelps a wrath and destruction that not even his year long execution could amount to. HE knew because he, CENSORED could do anything. And he still searched their faces, while he still could, while he still had at least one eye, to put it to memory. They had told him he'd never be able to forget any of this; the Good Doctor had pumped his brain with so many B+ vitamin supplements, it would be impossible. CENSORED would be sure to thank him later.

=======

"To business... Mr. Gifget is providing the labor. In a week, two at most, a number of explosives will be created with as much of the supplies as I have already delivered. I approximated that at least 20 heavy impact, mid-grade, programmable explosives can be made with still some left over and that is the exact number I expect to have, as well, Mr. Gifget. Any less and there will be consequences..."

Grime coughed and even after saying that, in his ill condition, Hawkins still sounded effectively threatening.

"The inventory will be laundered through the black market and I expect to have them all in my possession three to four weeks after they have finished production. I refuse to hold even that much in bulk for too long; therefore, Sin, I will facilitate their transport from myself to you."

Hawkins intended to finish the preliminary planning, the set up and such, before they moved onto exactly how they would exact their fair amount of destruction upon the cruise liner. Rather, Grime wanted to finish their business with Gifget and get him a lightyear away from them so they really had nothing else infiltrating upon their privacy.

[Sin]

Returning from his short excursion he sat back down at the table, Palidax had seen fit to entertain himself in whatever way a complete buffoon did. Whatever it was he seemed utterly enraptured by himself. Certain of it's unimportantness he gave full attention to the dear Mr. Grime and their new compatriot.

With a subtle nod of his masked face he agreed to his mirror image's request. I believe I can locate a facility to house such materials in, until they are required by ourselves. Things were coming together in perfect harmony. The first strike would soon become manifest - and with that movement against the very universe itself, he would begin his war. Life would end, and he and his dearest relation would live in a perfect system, at long last.

He would simply need to reclaim her from the outside forces that had stolen her away first.

[Hawkins Grime]

Grime blinked a few times, the muscles beneath his fake facial structure twitching in spastic frustration as Grime only got three words from whatever Sin had just said. His hand curled in on itself; the metal fingers pressing against the table. Small ripples formed underneath them soon enough as the heat there melted the finish on the table. Grime would give Sin the benefit of the doubt on account of his eager participation in this ordeal and that he was actually the origin and idealist behind it all in the first place.

"Good enough. Business is concluded for now then, Mr. Gifget. Leave that sample with us, yes, thank you. Good bye."

The old man was skeptical at first but something underlining Grime's tone of voice, even as damaged and as raspy as it was, held some kind of threat over Gifget's head and the handprint that was burned into the table now didn't help either as Gifget was left to his own devices in determing what kind of threat Hawkins' might devise, or his business partner, Sin, who said near nothing to Gifget the whole time but could just walk near a group of men and convince them to leave, and calmly as well.

Gifget stood slowly, pursed his lips, but his old face wrinkled into a grin when Grime produced a credit chip for the inconveniences. Gifget set the sample on the table slowly and nodded with a grin. The grin faded well enough when he caught glance that Grime and seemingly Sin were still staring at him and he bowed out and left the building.

"More over... I have the blue prints for the liner on my ship. That information is too much of a give away, so I'm not risking it."

Grime finally realized the odd smell was not just because of Gifget leaving, but actually due to that his hand was now smelting the metal of the table. He lifted his hand, making a fist as he put it beneath the table to keep it from doing any more damage for the moment. The dread machine of hatred and destructive urges was no easier to control now as it seemed to have been building up and the idea slowly creeped into Grime's mind that it might be approaching one of those moments in which it wouldn't be controlled by the end of this. If things continued on like this, Grime wasn't entirely sure he cared.

"But my technical aide has already pinpointed key points in the ship's hull, locations of its vital systems, and I have her working on a virus that will prevent the escape pods from functioning.

Placing charges on the designated targets, remotely detonating them, as well as loosing this..."

He reached for the nerve agent, but stopped midway and decided in better judgement to rather just point at it.

"In the most populated places. There might even be a way, especially with the escape pods neutralized to herd them into more close quarters and use it."

[Sin]

The crimson view of his lenses had began to fog over, the heat near the table had risen substantially. Mr. Grime's fiery disposition no doubt. He brought his digits to the lens and gave them a quick wipe, clearing his line of vision as best as would be possible under such situations.

His twin had hesitated in taking hold of the agent, perhaps a move for the better, with consideration to the lasting impression he had made upon the table itself. Extending his extremity slowly he took the agent in his hand carefully - Where Grime was almost reckless in his strength, Sin had a tender touch to his grasp. He found it best to control his own rage, reserve it for what he truly found deserving.

Though there was little he didn't. Palidax made a reach for the agent, the dolt obviously intrigued by the small vile of toxic goodness. His hand stalled before getting half it's determined distance, one word ringing in the youth's twisted mind.

No.

Palidax's hand returned to it's resting place upon his lap and he sat quietly, almost unmoving - despite his brash and reckless nature he understood one simple truth. He did what Sin said, without question.

His attention returned to the nerve agent and he examined it intently, turning both the miniscule container and his own head to look over it closely.

It seems all is well in hand then, my dear associate.

Grime's planning seemed to be more than adequate - as if all had led to their meeting, their association, and now their grand schemes. The will of the force was a unique beast, at that. His gaze locked upon the vial in his grasp and he was brought back to an earlier thought that had passed through their conversation.

A test is still in order...

The sound was loose, not focused towards any one or thing, more a passing thought he had bothered to vocalize - through his own unique manner. Slowly he turned his gaze back towards the room he had directed the staff and patrons to remain in, and a creeping grin came across his shattered face.

[Hawkins Grime]

...test...

"Fine... Test it then."

Grime said it almost bitterly as he glanced back to the manager's room at the back of the bar. There had been a flitting eagerness to use it himself, watch the effects twist his own paradigm into a new Hell as his brain burned itself out and everyone else in the bar just died in agony. But that was the destructive lust getting the better of him, and the fact that he couldn't even pick up the container himself for that matter.

"But I want to watch..."

As if it needed to be said. Grime slowly stood from the table, his exoskeleton creaking and wheezing as the inner mechanicals went to work.

[Sin]

The buffoon, Palidax, looked as if he were about to explode in rapture. One could only be so lucky.

Sit back down, Palidax. He rumbled fiercely into the young adept's mind, and Palidax, frowning in disappointment, complied. The deadly toxin well within his careful grasp, he and his shadowy associate travelled to the back room - where, no doubt, the manager and his 'friends' still resided. He stalled at the door, and glanced to his associate, to be sure they were both prepared.

He himself, had no immediate desire to suffer the effects of this agent, and when dealing with something so beautifully designed to strip away the lives of others, there would be room for error - not that either himself, or Grime were prone to such mistakes.

[Hawkins Grime]

"Go ahead."

There were several types of stalling and methods of hesitation. In most cases, they meant something had failed, or something was about to fail, because time was, overall, being wasted. And then there was stalling or hesitating for the sake of caution.

-------

CENSORED pulled down the edge of his gloves over his wrists in anxiety as he stared down at the floor board of the speeder.

"Queasy, CENSORED?"

the older, masked man sitting beside him said. He only shook his head in response though.

"I remember my first posse kill, whoo... What a blast that was. But ya know what a legend in our work once told me?"

"... No..."

"Slow is smooth, smooth is fast. When I was younger, I thought I knew so much but when he said that, it threw me for a loop. You believe that? I wanted to tell him that didn't make any sense and then it dawned on me. That guy had a knack for feeling anyone feel like they just started, so you can imagine what it was like for me the first time then."

"Slow is smooth, smooth is fast..."

CENSORED slid the power cell into the heavy blaster and adjusted the sights slightly, holstering it as the speeder came to a stop outside a large manor.

-------

"I'll keep the air heated and keep the air contained in the room, when they finish dying... I'll incinerate the room."

He spoke quietly, of course, although even if the men inside the room did react, they wouldn't really be able to do anything of their own free will anyways.

[Sin]

With little more than a nod in return to his admonition to continue, Sin stepped into the room. Again speaking to keep the worthless rabble within it in line.

Do not move.

And again, as if spoken by the very lips of God, the patrons of the bar dare not disobey. He reached to the mask that hid his shattered visage, and activated the filtration system, if his understanding of the toxin was correct, there would be no damage to himself. A risky gamble, and one Sin would in most cases not partake in. Curiosity had taken root in his mind, and would not let him be until it was sated.

This may sting a bit...

The words were not in truth necessary, and wasted on such filth, but Sin enjoyed the thought of his words being the last thing they heard. Outside of their own dying screams. His leathery fingers wrapped around the end of the vial, prying it free and with little more than a gentle motion, his digits let it fall.

For a moment the sheep stared on with wide eyes, uncertain as to what had transpired. He stood quietly in their midst, the hiss of his vents echoing against the walls as he glanced at their faces, one by one. Finally the first one began to cough, and Sin's attention was snapped to that spot in the room.

It began lowly, a soft tickle in the throat, as if the meat were trying to free something from his airway - then deepened, and a moment later the second was beginning the process. By the third one to begin the first was hacking and coughing for all his might, red granules of blood spattering her pale lips. By the fifth and final person in the room, the first was laying in a small pool of blood, coughed up violently as he skin cracked and blistered, bursting with the same red mist as had first come from her mouth.

Such a beautiful image. A wonderous plague that left the body as ugly as the spirit was. Finally the meat looked as he had always pictured them, deformed, disfigured lumps of cancer. As the last finally gave way to the soft embrace of eternity, Sin gave two knocks on the door, and waited for his associate.

[Hawkins Grime]

The two small knocks at the door sounded clearly in the small hall way and Hawkins' eyes set. Grime places one hand against the door and mentally let himself go, the torrent of chaos and brutal rage unleashing in a spontaneous roar of heat on the other side of the room. No flames though. The air would spark and dance with slivers of light but no perpetuating flames. The heat would probably make an unshielded human pass out and roast a little as if they were in an oven. Painful to say the least but the only measure they could really take in this case.

While Sin had to endure it for moments, Grime cared less. Hawkins Grime was the embodiement of pain while all others could find comfort. Sin could now only appreciate a morsel of the poisoned feast that Grime partook from.

The roaring of moving air stopped and Grime hit the doorpad for it to open. It did, but slowly, the heated computer not so quick as to react. The hot air still in the room came out in a rush as cooler air moved into the sterilized room. Hawkins could see the baked bodies on the floor. He could even pick out more or less what they had looked like prior and it wasn't any better compared to now.

"How did you think the overall dying process was for them?"

[Sin]

He was no stranger to pain. Pain had become a constant ally and companion during what of this existence he had experienced so far. Being tied to a stake and set ablaze as a youth will lend itself to being familiar with pain. He brushed some residual ash from his long coat and examined his reflection's words.

Painful. Beautifully, excrutiatingly painful. It was quite a treat to observe.

Yes, this would work most... what was this? His filter hitched and hissed, refusing to vent as he went to take a new breath of air through his mask. The heat had appearantly damaged the device. This was... troublesome. He turned his attention towards the scum, Palidax, and then returned it to Grime.

If you will excuse me for but a moment.

He approached the boy and without so much as a casual greeting, made his order. My spare, boy. Palidax's face paled, and he fished under the table for a briefcase he had brought, pulling it free from it's hiding place he let it rest against the table, and released the locks, a spare mask and filtration unit within. He looked at Sin with terrified eyes, and the man just growled in return.

Leave. Without hesitation the buffoon rushed for the door. He turned towards Grime, Ask your men to step outside, yourself as well, unless you desire to see this. He began to snap the clasps on his leathery face, releasing the seals. He hated removing this before the eyes of others, though he really could care less if Grime watched, as he had a feeling he better than most, would understand what was to happen next.

[Hawkins Grime]

Again, Grime found himself caring less about doing things that weren't absolutely necessary on his part. But Sin liked to play nice and all that rot amongst friends, and to be honest, Grime didn't feel like seeing anything reflected in the face behind the goggles.

"We'll be waiting outside..."

Morrolan e'Drein and Valeria Tur'ilian stood as Hawkins passed and followed behind him casually. The exit doors opened and closed without another word and then Grime was having to suffer the incessant noise of Sin's accomplice. Whatever-his-name-was stood at the corner, bent over slightly like a neaderthal, making some noises to a rhythm that Hawkins was sure wasn't really there to begin with. The others standing around Grime weren't exactly amused either, and Hawkins actually had to hold up his hand in a halting signal to keep Kroma, the hulking droid, from indulging itself in throwing the organic into traffic.

[Sin]

If Grime had no desire to be privy to what was behind his prison, so be it. In the long of things it was perhaps for the best if their partnership were to come to an end at some point. The bar empty he peeled back the mask, slipping it free from his skin with a sickening slurp. He lay it down in the case, where the other had been and for a moment ran his leather covered digits across the skin.

Deep cracks ran against the blotchy dermis, a mixture of more normal looking skin, terrible dark scars and new pink flesh where the scars would tear open from time to time. Patches of mix-match peppered hair permiated his scalp, and he felt a few strands tug free at his fingers still working over his head. More dead areas, it would seem. Not that he cared.

He pursed his shattered lips and reached down for the fresh mask, sliding it over his monstrous appearance and fastening it back into place, he took a deep breath through the vents and was quite enraptured at the sound of escaping air. The clasps of the case snapped as he closed it, and he turned and approached the door, exiting calmly into the group.

Grime and his entourage on one side, and the dim-witted Palidax making a nuisance of himself on the other. Now, where were we?

[Hawkins Grime]

"The sample works then... Sin, we'll be in touch."

More words than that, if even that amount really, wasn't necessary. Grime would be contacting Sin in the near future to determine the next place they'd meet and exchange the manufactured explosives and the containers, which were the source of the sample that had just been used.

But Grime was tired now and desired to retreat to the Wyvern to rest. He had other business contracts to fufill as well as make some deadlines on other... profits.

"Kroma, Malchiel... Level this drenhole..."

e'Drein opened the side door to the limo and Grime shifted slowly so his mechanical frame could sit inside and with a great lack of grace, his legs were pulled inside. Hawkins wanted the place utterly destroyed. He didn't care how. The bodies still held traces of the sample and he didn't want that followed back to wherever Gifget might have gotten it. The man with the pale face was more than confident that Malchiel and Kroma understood the degree to which he desired the place obliterated.

Valeria slid in beside Grime and the door closed. The other side opened and e'Drein slid into the seat opposite him. They'd wait, they were in no hurry, and Hawkins would expect Kroma and Malchiel to handle their work thoroughly.

[KROMA Mk2]

Kroma, Malchiel... Level this drenhole...

Kroma was helpless but to heed his masters edict. This was precisely the process he'd been studying during his wait outside the room, among other things. The sysSphere coordinated the buildings layout from tweny different positions before his eyes. The structural integrity of the building proved that it had could have only been made possible by someone of lesser intelligence than an Ewok. The buildings greatest fault lay in its center wall, dividing the building in two far from perfect sections. It acted as a focal pillar, and would need to be impaired for proper execution.

Kroma had to bend his knees to avoid crashing his forehead into the cieling. For a droid of lesser make the task might require work, but to Kroma it was less than nothing. He raised his left arm and mashed into wall turned pillar. Three blows, no more. The wall was in such a warped state that the slightest wind could bring the hazzard down ontop of Malchiel and himself.

Processing the data, Kroma crashed both hands into the ceiling to find their next target. They latched onto a cross section of an iron girder directly above him. He ripped it out with ease. This measure would ensure his previous act was successful upon detonation of the transformers. The events of master Grime and his friend would be untraceable.

He lumbered towards Malchiel, dust and grit flying from his shoulders with each massive step.

[Rev Palidax]

Old man Sin just about dragged me away from the building after his white-faced friend ordered the goon patrol to tear the place to the ground. One day I'd make him regret treating me like a damn dog, but for now I'd just bide my time, soak up the good stuff and enjoy the ride.

I pressed up against a nearby shack and waited, watching. Sin could have gone anytime he wanted, but he decided to stick it out, watch it play. Man loved his destruction, I'd give Gruesome that much. I was just glad I didn't have to see him without the bag, I'd seen it once. ONCE. I swore to high-tail it away if I ever thought I'd have to again. Like looking at a bad meat pizza.

I lit my last deathstick and kicked back to watch the destruction.

[Ithiel Malchiel]

Kroma, Malchiel... Level this drenhole...

Ithiel sat up casually from where he had been laying in the rented vehicle.
He stood, checked his guns to make sure they were loaded. It was a mindless process. If he had not had more pressing matters to attend to, he normally would have followed checking the guns with systematically disassembling them and reassembling them. One fluid motion later, Ithiel was headed towards the building not unlike a flood coursing through a canyon.

A couple of minutes later, seconds it seemed to Ithiel because his mind didn't even stop to process his surroundings, Ithiel was in the basement of the building, his hands sweeping over the console of an old computer. Each precise keystroke was executed with utmost dexterity that reflected his skill with his guns.

After an eternity of waiting, a full five minutes that went by so painfully slow that Ithiel had enough time to disassemble and reassemble his guns twice while also taking in every last detail of his surroundings, the console beeped and a red light began flashing indicating a build up of energy in the transformers. The electricity had built up to the point that the only thing stopping the building from exploding was the limiters on the transformers. Ithiel had altered the settings of those limiters to only let out the minimal amount of charge thus causing a dam-effect. The energy was slowly building up and compressing as it came closer and closer to critical mass.

Ithiel stood outside the building, gun in hand pointed at the transformers near the lower back wall of the building. The structural damage the droid had done to the building would cause the explosion to do moderate damage to the surroundings.

Fortunately for Ithiel, he didn't much care. He had done everything simply to reach the point where he would express his only purpose in life. Not overly expensive but entirely effective, a single durasteel bullet ripped out of the barrel of one of Ithiel's guns spinning at precisely one hundred twenty-six rotations per second and moving at three thousand meters per second. With minimal air resistance, Ithiel estimated the bullet hit the transformers at ninety-nine point seven percent of the initial speed.

Durasteel tore through the metal of the transformers easily and was vaporized by the energies of the resulting explosion. The building became a pile of ashes and debris as the force of the explosion reduced most of the mass of the building into baser elements. For those who reveled in destruction, it was probably a good show. For Ithiel who stood savoring the ecstacy he had felt as he pulled the trigger and became a bullet that caused the destruction, the explosion itself couldn't matter less.

[KROMA Mk2]

Kroma could see through the smoke from the rather mundane explosion. Some of the building remained standing, as he expected. Pieces of the former restaurant lay strewn about, most smoldering into ash. The right half lay intact, with the roof dipping a meter below its initial construct. That would have to change.

Steel hands dug beneath the ground of a still standing wall. Its top crumbled as he flipped the support inwards. This gave way to the ceiling, causing a massive inward collapse on the basement. Dust and smoke exploded from the hole. The smoldering increased. Circuitry cracked and popped. Not much more could be done to the site. Satisfied with the completion of the task at hand, he departed through the smoke. He hoped the master would be pleased.

[Morrolan e'Drein]

Morrolan turned to glance out the window of the limo. Smoke poured out of the collapsing building, and Kroma's massive frame was in clear evidence.

He knew that the two would do a thorough job, but it would take some time.

Morrolan gripped the handle of his weapon and pulled it slowly from it's holster, which sat beside him on the seat. It's rear-worn sling made it necessary to pull it around to either side when sitting, unless one particularly enjoyed the feeling of steel prodding them in the lower back constantly. He slid the slugthrower over his left thigh and sat it in his lap. It was a good gun, an antique who's roots laid themselves in worlds long past. Merr-sonn had ceased making this particular model generations ago, and it was a pain to keep in such good condition.

He slid the magazine out and fingered the top round, biding his time.

[Valeria Tur'ilian]

It had been an incredibly uneventful night, personally, for the shapeshifting femme fatale. But, it was just as well. Valeria had seen her share of devastation this evening and found the end product to be satisfying. Well, it would be, were she the satiable kind of girl. If anything, she was able to assess the diverse characters that she would be associating herself with more in the near future.

Now, once again seated in the limo next to Hawkins, she allowed some of the excess but ever pending rigidity of her beastly nature to wane. The pronounced muscles of her hands diminished but the razor sharp tips of her clawed digits remained prominent. The vivid glow of her amethyst eyes maintained their luminance as they drifted from Grime to e'Drein and then back again, to the whorls of smoke swarming just outside the window and finally settling upon the metal plate strapped across the front of her right combat boot.

Her time, too, would come.

[Sin]

Brittle work of man's design.
The shallow dream of a hollow mind.
Now fall apart and our hunger sate.
For the universe shall share your fate.

Sin remained still, observing with keen interest the work of Grime's underlings. Each uniquely perfect for their role, and all he had to show for the moment was a mentally retarded chimp who was currently sucking away at his own demise. Sin rotated his head ever slightly to observe the lad.

And picking at his own nostril, it would appear.

He spoke within his own mind, privy to no one else and shook his head ever so slightly. He had other matters to attend to, regardless of the joy the destruction was giving him.

Come, Palidax.

Turning without pause or concern for the fate of the meat he had brought with him, he began his walk towards the space port.

"Why can't we just get a cab like evry'one else, boss?"

He ignored the incessant whining of Palidax and merely continued on his path.