How quickly we forget. (Nemesis)

[Oleander]

"How dare you, sir!" the gaunt man protested. "What manner of ruffian do you mistake me for?!"

The guard, stunned by this outburst, gave a stammered reply, "I'm s...sorry if I have offended you, sir, but it's my duty to check any and all people entering this bar for arms."

"Arms!? I, my good man, am one of, if not the, most renowned authorities on both genetics and robotics in the known galaxy." a now enraged professor waved his hands before an astonished soldier. "I would never sully such gifted vessels as these with any barbaric weaponry. However, if you must be appeased..." he parted a well tailored overcoat and began to pad down an expensive looking suit. "There, are you satisfied!?"

The guard's lips parted as to speak, but was quickly cut off.

"Good day to you, sir!" he turned from the New Republic soldier and found a table close to the back.

Upon reaching the vacant booth, he scowled at a rather large lump of green, nestled atop his intended seat.

"We fight an Empire, kill an evil tyrant, set up a ruling body that governs an untold number of peoples and planets, we are called the height of the free civilizations, and yet we haven't mastered the art of trash disposal!"

Other patrons were finding it more difficult to ignore the man's strident grumbling; as he removed a napkin from his belt, carefully scooped the refuse up, then tossed it into a nearby trash bin.

With this done, he finally took a seat at the booth and motioned to a serving droid.

The server scurried to his table.

"I'll have the chef salad and some of your best house wine. Oh, yes and my friend..." gesturing to the empty seat across from him, "....will have green tea."

As the droid left, the thin doctor settled into his bench and patiently awaited his "friend's" arrival.

[Nemesis]

An icy black shadow fell across Oleander. Turning, the doctor found himself in the presence of an imposing ebony figure.

Nemesis' hands tightened into fists, as he stood motionless and deadly silent. His eyes, hollow of any pigment, narrowed on the thin man who sat before him. The assassin's unyielding gaze spoke volumes of pain and rage at the very sight of whom most would assume was a mere acquaintance.

[Oleander]

Oleander's stare began as cold and unforgiving as the one given him, but then softened.

"Good of you to join me." The doctor motioned to the empty seat at his booth. "Have a seat, won't you?"

His lips stretched across his aged face forming a wickedly crooked smile.

[Nemesis]

The assassin retained his poise, moving neither to the empty seat nor responding to his host's question.

Nemesis' hands crossed over his chest. Both gloves hovered about empty holsters lining his rib cage, a poignant reminder of the bar's "no weapon" policy.

[Oleander]

Raised eyebrows noted Nemesis' vain attempts at drawing a weapon.

"Is this really necessary?" The snide comment was purposefully driven. "I mean; first you won't speak to me, then you look at me as if I were evil incarnate, and now you make blatant overtures of murdering me. Is that anyway to treat your father?"

[Nemesis]

The "good" doctor had scarcely finished his last statement when he was violently ripped from where he sat and dangled by the collar. With a single hand, Nemesis maintained a powerful grip around Oleander's neck. The professor's feet swung, side to side, evidence of his assailant's unfettered strength.

An unforgiving ivory glare, that had intensified dramatically within the last few moments, never passed from the elderly man's wrinkled face.

"Your are not my father." The assassin's voice fell to an uncanny depth, tainted with vicious growls.

[Oleander]

"I....understand....why your angry..." Desperate gags for breath muffled many of his words. "...but if you....don't....stop....."

Unable to complete his thoughts verbally, due to Nemesis' vice grip on his throat, Oleander nodded; drawing the assassin's attention to approaching New Republic guards.

[Nemesis]

The assassin broke his crushing hold, causing Oleander to plunge, back-first, against the booth.

Whipping about, Nemesis faced the oncoming soldiers. Each guard made his way through the buoyant crowd, weapons drawn and with intent of subduing the ebony warrior by any means necessary.

Again, his fists tightened in readiness, knowing not whether he could bring himself to battle with men whose only crime was the performance of their duties.

[Oleander]

A pair of officers stepped forward and asked in a very gruff manner, "What's the problem here?"

The only ability within his power, for the moment, was waving a frantic hand before the pair of guards until a few hoarse coughs cleared his injured throat enough to where he could speak.

"No....officers," The doctor's voice was soft and riddled with wheezing. "...everything is fine here." He gestured toward Nemesis. "My brother was just having a bit of fun with me, that's all. You know....a little practical joke."

The two men seemed unconvinced at first, as they studied both the assassin and Oleander with untrusting eyes, but finally consented to believe that all was well.

[Nemesis]

As the guards turned and left, Nemesis glared at the recovering doctor. The malicious glint in his eyes had not passed, despite Oleander's acting on the assassin's behalf.

He knew this loathsome excuse for an intellect all to well. What would appear to have been a commendable work of kindness, the warrior knew to be a shrewd ploy which would undoubtedly be used as some sort of bargaining chip.

[Oleander]

Oleander sat up, straightened his attire, then continued his conversation with the assassin.

"Now then, perhaps we can commence..." his words trailed off.

Nemesis still bore visible signs of disdain for the old doctor. With no desire to waste any more time attempting to persuade his towering black assailant by means of pleasantries, he chose a different, more convincing route.

"What's the matter? Don't trust me?" The sadistic grin returned to his face. "You really should. After all.....was I not the man who just saved you? Well, more to the point, saved you from the guilt of having beaten those poor men to a bloody pulp. I know that's what you were thinking."

[Nemesis]

As expected, the doctor's "good" deed was nothing more than an outlet for further manipulation of the hunter. Yet, despite the obvious deceitful motives, Nemesis was still obliged to return the gesture. He could also no longer risk another incident which would bring about the guards' investigation.

With great reluctance, he moved toward the open seat across from Oleander. After several more moments of uneasiness, the assassin settled into the booth and glared at the other man.

[Oleander]

As Nemesis took his seat a droid scuttled over, bearing the professor's salad and drink. Once the food was placed before it's recipient, the server exited once more without bothering to inquire as to whether or not the assassin would like to place an order of his own. The ebony man's demeanor conveyed a strong desire for leaving this less than kind reunion.

Oleander partook of the meal at a deliberately sluggish pace, exercising his manipulative grip over the hunter's resolve. Sips of wine and exaggerated fork-fulls of lettuce continually tested the waters of patience. Finally, when the doctor felt Nemesis was on the verge of a second assault, he looked up from his plate and spoke.

"You're either very busy or would like nothing more than to be rid of my accompaniment. Very good then, I shall not waste your 'precious' time."

His utensil lowered and he began wiping the corners of his mouth with a napkin.

"I want you back in the fold."

[Nemesis]

"No." His swift retort echoed the rage within him.

Oleander had spoken truth in both his summations of the assassin's time. He was, indeed, to busy to deal with the devious scientist and he brazenly boasted the hatred he held for this man.

"Now that you've stated your request and been given your answer, I take my permanent leave of you."

The booth groaned as the warrior's heavy weight was lifted from it.

[Oleander]

"Permanent?" With a slight chuckle and a humored tone, Oleander openly mocked the assassin's word's. "In all these years, have you learned anything? Don't you understand that nothing in this life is eternal?"

Taking another long relaxed sip from of his wine, the devious intellect watched as his reluctant companion moved away from the table.

"Besides, you know me well enough. You can't seriously believe that I am just going to give up on you that easily."

He began to partake of his meal, as if he hadn't a care in the world.

[Nemesis]

He halted his retreat from Oleander's presence. Nemesis then shifted slowly to the right until his eyes locked upon the feasting professor.

"If you intend to take me by force, by all means make your move. I would relish an opportunity to justify your death."

The assassin's body stiffened as he readied for any tricks his cunning host may have lying in wait.

[Oleander]

Oleander gave a muffled sigh between several bites of salad. He grew more impressed with the dark assassin's boldness and quick wit. All the hunter's faculties seemed to have increased ten fold since their last meeting, some 25 years ago. However, it was not yet time for all to be revealed.

His right hand ran across the smooth frontal portion of his barren skull as he set his fork to the side.

"Alas, I do not posses the means to subdue you.......yet, but my day will come. As will yours."

Yet another intense silence.

"Where are my manners? You obviously remember me, but I'm afraid I don't know what you're calling yourself these days..." his words trailed off, permitting the listener to complete his statement.

[Nemesis]

"Nemesis." Again, he did not fall from his callous overtone.

No Force influences were needed for Nemesis to understand what the doctor intended to achieve with his subversive questioning. The chances of Oleander's keen mind overlooking such a simple task as learning the assassin's alias during his extensive search were highly unlikely.

With one simple answer, the professor could draw upon all its devious connotations and tainted past. Plunging into shadows that stained the warrior's very soul.

[Oleander]

Oleander feigned astonishment at the name's revelation; knowledge he was already well aware of.

"Nemesis?" The professor's eyes widened to accompany his shrewd performance. "Isn't that a bit morbid......all things considered?"

[Nemesis]

"A man must learn to accept who he is, as well as who he was. In the absence of a past, no one can hold much hope for the future." The calm, rational voice suppressed his true feelings.

Nemesis realized Oleander's attempts to establish some correlation between the assassin's choice in names and the practices of old.

Leaning in across the booth, he came within inches of the professor's face, boring deeply into the aged man's eyes with his own as one might when scolding a pet. "This is why I retained such a despicable title. Though I am unable to change the past, I can learn from it. From the time I wake in the morning, until I lay my head to rest in the evening, my name reminds me of who I am and why I fight. As torturous as this may be, it is my lot in life."

[Oleander]

What began as stifled chuckles grew into open laughter. The elderly professor continued his mirth despite further enraging the powerful man whose hands were positioned only inches from Oleander's throat.

Reaching into an inner jacket pocket, he brought forth a small, white, linen handkerchief. Then, removing rather broad spectacles from his nose, the doctor wiped joyous tears from his eyes; a task made increasingly difficult by spurts of dieing laughter.

"Well look who thinks he's a man!" his voice, still riddled with snickers, fought to maintain composure. "If that's the only obstacle standing in the way of you coming back to where you belong then, please, allow me to remove it; for, of the many things you are, a man is not one of them.

A man, my dear child, has parents. Real living, breathing, flesh and blood parents. Your mother was a test tube and your father was some innocuous lineman whose only redeeming qualities were his brawny physical features."

[Nemesis]

Once more, Oleander found himself gasping for air through the shadowed man's iron grip. However, unlike his first assault, Nemesis kept the doctor seated; even jerking the head closer to the table top and behind his inky, veiled frame. Unable to move or alert anyone of his plight, the only choice left for the professor was in lying still and allowing the assassin to speak.

The warrior's helm lowered, as his crushing right hand forced Oleander's head to the side. He then whisper into the aging intellect's ear.

"Obviously you didn't understand me the first time so I will say this once more. I am not your son, child, boy or any other term that denotes your fathering me. "

He applied steadily growing pressure to the doctor's trachea.

"The only reason I haven't killed you yet is because your life isn't worth mine. I won't risk being gun downed right here simply because of your sick mind games. Furthermore, by your appearance I seriously doubt you have much time left with us. Taking your life can only be the fulfillment of a soon coming reality. Wouldn't you say?"

Nemesis relinquished his possession of the professor's neck, letting the slender man slide, hacking and wheezing, back into the booth.

[Oleander]

Several minutes of deep throated gasps and coughs relieved the doctor's pain, enough for him to answer.

"My apparent...(cough).....physical condition....(cough)......is no reflection on my mental capacities, I assure you."

Oleander sat up in his seat once more, though with greater hesitation than before. Nemesis had surprised even the great intellect with his willingness to do harm, yet it was quite a pleasant surprise.

A twisted and evil grin etched across his tired, pale lips.

"But you already know that....don't you? Of course you do. Why else would you be so wary about having dinner with a washed up old doctor who has more than one foot in the grave?"

[Nemesis]

The assassin found himself, again, cut deeply by the professor's words. As much as he wished to contest everything the sadistic, elderly man spoke, Nemesis saw far too much truth in it. However, this would not detour his efforts to prevent any reconciliation between the two.

"You are absolutely right, Oleander." He spat out each syllable, as his own speech left a bitter residue upon the lips.

Easing from the table top, he made his second attempt for the door, but was stopped in mid-movement. He then turned, glared at the aged doctor, and in a clam, icy tone said, "That should give you a great deal to worry about, doctor. For, you know what I must do.....to those who threaten me."

At these final words, Nemesis vanished through the front door of Yoghurt’s Bar and Grill.

[Oleander]

Oleander studied the retreating assassin, as Nemesis departed his company and left the bar entirely.

His attention returned to the food before him, but as the doctor was preparing to enjoy his food with some measure of satisfaction; he couldn't resist but to raise a glass and toast the ebony warrior.

"To you......old friend." With that he took a single swallow of his wine, then heartily devoured the salad.