If Looks Could Kill (open)

[Soraya Taveres]

your mind won't let let you say that you want me
your mind won't ever, never let you say what you want
you howl and wail like a banshee
still your mind won't ever let you say
your mind won't let you say that you want me
your mind won't ever, never let you say what you want
my little tired devotee
your mind won't even let you feel

quivering now, shivering now, withering
your mind won't let you say that you're
wondering now, pondering now, hungering
won't let you say that you're
questioning, wavering, weakening
your mind won't let you say that you're
hearkening, listening, heeding me now
won't let you say that you want me

your mind won't let you say that you want me
your mind won't ever, never let you have what you want
I feel your hunger to taste me
still your mind won't ever let you say
your kind is just the type that should use me
but your mind won't seem to let you have
the opportunity to abuse me, abuse me
your mind won't even let you feel

savor the addiction,
savor the affliction, savor me
savor her mind

your mind won't let you say that you want me

***

The comm link beeped. Some fiddling with the system, and Sway's voice filtered through.

"The others are out, and I'm tied to the Store. Check on the goods tonight, will you?"

She smiled grimly. You could always count on their leader to get straight to the point. "No sweat, boo. I've got some business to take care of downtown anyways. See you back at base," she said, referring to their headquarters which had affectionately been dubbed the Candy Store. There came a muffled response, and then the connection died. Sighing, though not for fatigue or frustration, Soraya climbed into the speeder she had only recently acquired, just a few days earlier. It was already late into the night - or early morning, whichever way you preferred to consider it - and with no prospect of coming to a close anytime soon.

The ride itself lasted no longer than fifteen minutes, but the edifice she parked outside was one of many in Severe's possession, and by no means the largest. The streets surrounding it were altogether deserted; Sway had a knack for choosing the most guarded locations, and all with good reason. Dismounting the vehicle, Soraya walked forward a few steps and raised her head, hands fixed firmly on hips. The building's exterior gave it the impression of your average, mundane and, of course, 'abandoned' old warehouse, but its contents were far from being commonplace.

A security panel to the door's side came into view as she approached the entrance. Sliding back the metallic cover, Soraya tapped in the standard 5-digit code, then proceeded to suffer the numerous trials designed to maintain security. The gang's shady enterprise had made rapid progress within the past year, and with such reputation there inevitably came a price - both on their products, and their heads. Eventually, after the tedious process of verifying her identity, the doors hissed open.

Everything appeared to be in place. Scraps of metal and other industrial debris littered the floor (well, they didn't make a fortune by sweeping up) and, having walked past a few aisles and inspected the supplies, she turned to make her exit; and, at that very moment, heard a dull thud sound from the next gangway, as that of a bag dropping to the ground. In the next instant, the air had carried upwards a puff of white powder, followed by a cough.

Soraya's breath caught in her throat. It was apparent that the intruder was unaware of her presence, for whatever reasons (they'd inhaled an over-dosage of the drug, most likely). Reaching low, her hand rummaged through the wreckage before clasping around what felt like a sizeable metal rod. The cool steel pressing against her palm, her fingers clenched inwards tightly, and she moved towards the shelf at the very end of the aisle. She inched closer, then peered around... and found herself staring at the back of a dark figure.

All sense lost, the woman's instinct kicked in, as she swung her makeshift bat around, aiming blindly. The blow did indeed hit home, however - right between the shoulder blades. The trespasser fell to their knees with a loud grunt, and collapsed in such a way that the face was angled sideways, just enough for Soraya to make out its features...

"Oh <smallfont color={hovercolor}>-Censored-</smallfont>..."

[Garth Selachii]

The rush of air being displaced had come all too late for Garth, and as he fell to the floor he cursed himself in the moments before he lost all sense of consciousness.

Prior to this unfortunate transpiration, the young assassin’s evening had been going smoothly. The journey to the night’s workplace had been quick, and made via numerous rooftops – it was surprising how even in this day and age the skyscrapers of Coruscant maintained their gangways and pipelines, allowing for a lithe and nimble body to leap from roof to roof with considerable ease.

An unfortunate occurrence, however, was that in his self-confidence towards his agility, Selachii had moved too quickly. It was not that he fell, or made a wrong turn, more that he arrived at his objective before his target did. This made matters entirely different – he would now be drawn to thinking up a new way of inhuming her, instead of simply delivering a throwing dart swiftly into the back of her neck.

He’d crept, silent as night itself, along grating and through bags of what appeared to be drugs – the reason he was here. He himself would not partake in such disgusting habits, but appeared a client of his did and was not happy that these particular bags of powder were in existence.

Sadly, the toe knife on his velvet boots had inadvertently slit open one of the bags, sending a plume of choking white dust into the air. Garth, bringing his glove to cover his mouth, dropped his bag – and moments later heard the aforementioned rush of air.

Now he lay motionless, eyes wide open, staring …

[Turcyn Rorke]

"Get him!" a seemingly piqued voice shouted down the street, just as man ducked in the alleyway attempting to lose the brute-like adherents; ones who were stuck on the idea of pounding his face in. After a bout of collisions with trash bins and other strewn obstacles, Turcyn managed to fumble through the back street in what seemed to be a safe zone.

The twin ruffians had apparently been thrown off due to the purblindness of the alleyway; it seemed Turcyn was on lady luck's good side on this particular night.

Brushing himself off jauntily, Turcyn glanced around for a bit of reassurance before heading off down the abandoned lot in search of something else to feed this undying lust. That lust being mischief, of course. He just had a knack for trouble, and he could never turn down an opportunity for bankroll.

It was just a game of cards gone wrong. So what he wasn't exactly being honest in playing fairly, he still figured those guys were overreacting to the situation. Anyhow, all was good now, and he had a fresh, fat stack of bills resting comfortably in his pocket.

Life was good, it was time to celebrate — but first.

Something peaked the young thief's attention. His eyes found themselves resting pleasingly on a female, not a half bad looker at that. Hey, nothing beat getting 'paid' twice on the same night. The game plan ran itself through his head, and his stare began to wander off in the opposite direction. He had the dialogue laid out perfectly — now it was just time to put it into action.

He turned back to the warehouse, and to his discouragement his 'fox' was long gone. Hope had been lost, until something else managed to entice his senses. A crack in the door, it seemed what this lass had plenty of in appearance wasn't exactly contributing upstairs. She hadn't managed to shut the door, and he couldn't resist.

Sprinting across the street, he approached the building with a confident stride. His arrogance persisted once again, and it was time to reclaim what he thought was his from the first glance. Pushing the door open gently, he stepped inside, attempting to maintain somewhat of a covert entrance. After all, he was a thief and liked to refer to himself as a professional.

Thump!

A sound he was all too familiar with; a body meeting floor. Before he could stop himself he rounded the corner, and there she was. Of course, there he was too, out like a light. He was no detective, but it was obvious what was going on. An unconscious body, white powder, and a shrew with a club. It wasn't anywhere he wanted to be.

Nonetheless, he had been spotted. His hand lowered itself to his waist-line, just to reassure himself a firearm was present. A grin crept along his rugged features, as he stood watching her.

"Everything all right?"

[Soraya Taveres]

Where logic ceased to aid, reflex kicked in - or vice versa, as was the case here. Her weapon of choice had been crude but, in spite of being utterly rudimentary, it had granted Soraya ample time during which to gather her wits. She had come here barely armed; the defensive measures employed by the gang had proved up until now to be flawless. How this poor sap managed to infiltrate those precautions defied all reason, but at this point, it made little difference.

"Ugh..." she grumbled, grabbing hold of the man's shoulder with one hand while drawing out a small switchblade concealed in the glove of the other. Groaning at the strain of his weight against her arm, she dragged him off his side so that he faced the ceiling, then sat over his torso, legs straddled on either side. From what scarce light was available, it was obvious that this intruder wasn't - well, Soraya didn't know what he was, but he certainly didn't appear to be your regular street thug. A more than passable degree of intelligence was required to access the warehouse as he had.

He stirred. Before his eyes had opened completely, Soraya backhanded him sharply across the cheek, knife edge held below his chin. "One reason why I shouldn't slit your <smallfont color=#0060FF>-Censored-</smallfont>in' throat. Just one."

"Everything all right?"

"What the <smallfont color=#0060FF>-Censored-</smallfont> - !?!!"

Her head snapped around and up, the blade still in a steady grip; good riddens for that, too: this was a new jacket, and she didn't want it bloodied just yet. Soraya glared meaningfully at the second prowler, snarling and fully aware that he was armed. "What is this, open night for asswipes?"

[Garth Selachii]

The wake up call was entirely expected. With the sing of the back hand in his jaw, Garth gritted his teeth together to make sure they were all in place.

“"What is this, open night for asswipes?"

Asswipe plural. The assassin, though pinned, managed to strain enough so that he caught sight of another man. He frowned, trying to place the face – at least it wasn’t another of his own trying to claim the same contract. On the other hand, this woman didn’t appear to know him so he posed a potential threat.

“I’m already down and injured. Wouldn’t it be better to rid yourself of a greater threat first?” Garth answered, finally, in response to the woman’s question. His voice was barely above a mutter.

[Turcyn Rorke]

“Asswipe?” he jeered to himself, adding an emphasis on the word as if to take some type of offense. Guiding his hand to his belt, he fingered the concealed blaster as he continued to watch the female; anticipating some kind of move from her. For a moment his eyes budged towards the man on the ground, he wasn’t in any position to uphold a threat. For now, at least.

“Somebody should teach you some hospitality,” he laughed as he began to inch closer towards her. “I mean, I’m only trying to help.”

By now the weapon was already resting in the palm of his hand, but he still kept it in a latent position as to not alarm the either of them any more than they already were. He didn’t want a confrontation, but something fishy was going on, and he wanted a cut in it. Stopping a little ways before the woman, he heard the man utter some words which were inaudible from his stance.

They were sound enough to be understood, though — take him out first.

“Take me out,” he scoffed, gesturing towards the small blade in her hand. “I’d suggest putting away your toy. I’d hate to see someone unnecessarily cut.”