Time Imemorial

[Kyle Raiden]

OOC: This is probably gonna be a pretty long thread, that I'll keep coming back to every now and again. If I do any tangent threads that are relevant, I'll throw in a link for y'all to check it out. Anyway...posting...



"Blast it!" Kyle yelled, slamming into the deck plating with a thud. The wiring in this ship was deadly. Someone had mis-labeled a circuit. The wire that should have been hooked up to a redundant system was far from it. He popped his finger in his mouth, and tried to suck the burning sensation away.

He looked up towards the hatch from where he'd fallen. In the ceiling of the engineering level, it was one of the main access points into the ship's power grid. He sighed, and climbed to his feet.

Please don't do that again, a voice echoed around him. The voice was soft, and feminine, yet filled with a sense of intelligence that lay beneath it all. That was a very sensitive system.

"Sorry, Trin," he replied to the disembodied voice. "The guy that put you together was a bit lax when it came to presenting his work in a nice, neat little package." Kyle didn't say his next statement out loud. He thought it, but knew his words would offend the ship. Its a total mess in here...and you're just another sign of it.

Sir, the voice said again, although this time it was different. The voice had become slightly deeper. It spoke in a monotone, its words broken by a digital distortion, as if synthesised by the cheapest vocabulator around. Someone is approaching the ramp.

Kyle dropped his tools instantly, and ran down the corridor. The inside of the ship had changed little with its refit; the former SoroSuub Personal Luxury Yacht 3000 still retained its old internal structure. But this ship was somewhat different. It had been modified, turned from a ship of pleasure into something far more capable of battle. The engineer that had produced it had done a good job with the structural conversion, but when it came to the internals, his work was well below the mark. Kyle was having to rebuild the insides of the ship one piece at a time, and the ship wasn't all that happy about it.

As he ran, Kyle's hands slid over his holders, and grabbed out both pistols. He stopped at the top of the ramp, and pounded the butt of one pistol into the control that would make it descend. The other aimed downwards, the other coming to join it moments later.

Natural light flooded into the belly of the ship. It bounced off the sand, stabbing into Kyle's eyes. He winced, but kept watching. His pistols closed on the figure in front of him. He stared through the light, willing their appearence to reveal itself to him. Slowly, the shadow that covered them resolved into shapes and colours. "Mistar Ray-den," a voice called, "It iss onlee me." Kyle sighed in relief, and holstered his weapons. The trader walked cautiously forward. "I am sorry to haff sta'told youh."

"Its okay, Mathas." Kyle gripped the trader's hand firmly, and pulled him inside. He pushed the close control, and the ramp closed slowly, the desert beyond being shut out once more, as it should be. "I wasn't expecting you back so soon."

"Youhr deliffery iss outsside in mhai speeter," Mathas said with a grin. "It iss the las toff it."

Kyle nodded appreciatively. "Thank you. I'll have my droid bring it aboard." He paused, and whistled loudly. There was a beep, a bleep, and then the whir of motors, as Kay trundled towards him. "Have the guys bring the parts aboard," he instructed, patting the dome of the black and red R2. Kay whistled compliance, and rolled away.

Kyle turned back to Mathas. "How much do I..." His eyes fixed on the sleek, black barrel of the gun aimed at his head. "...owe you?"

"Youhr liffe, Mistar Ray-den." Mathas' lips split into a malicious grin. "Youh will be surrenterink youhr ship to me, no?"

Kyle's eyes narrowed. "No." His left arm swung up into the side of the gun barrel, and pushed it aside. As the momentum brought him round, he drew his right leg back into a side kick. It shot out, the side of his foot slicing through the air, and into Mathas' gut, keeling him over. A twist of his hip brought the knee smashing into the trader's face, throwing it past his shoulders, and pulling his overly plump body onto its back.

Switching legs, Kyle ripped the rifle from Mathas' hands with a kick, and pressed his foot against the trader's throat. He stared down with narrowed eyes. "That was stupid."

Mathas growled and rolled, coming up onto his knees, a hold-out blaster pulled from a concealed holster somewhere. He aimed at Kyle. The sound of blaster-fire shrieked. Mathas stopped, and slumped forward. A crater smoked in his back. Kyle blinked, and followed the line of the blaster bolt back. There stood what looked like an accident in a second hand droid shop. Pieces from over a dozen droids stood, an arm aimed at the corpse. At the end of the arm, the blaster of a Super Battle Droid sat menacingly. "Good shot, Trin," Kyle managed to say.

"You are welcome, sir," the broken digital monotone replied, the arm returning to its side. "What shall we do with the body?"

Kyle looked at it again, at the lifeless look in Mathas' eyes. That was one desperate man, he realised. Was. Kyle traced his gaze up to look into the "eyes" of his droid. "We'll make the payment to his account, and leave him in his speeder. Someone will come looking for him eventually."

"But, sir..." a new voice, strangely reminiscant of a 3P0 droid. "Is that entirely..."

"Wise?" Kyle shook his head. "No. Its probably not. But I have to do it anyway."

"Why?"

Kyle shrugged. "I'm not the bad guy." He turned, sighing, and started walking towards the cockpit. "Get the ship ready for launch. I think our welcome is officially worn out."

"But..."

"Do it!" Kyle snapped, turning round to face his droid, Trinity, anger in his eyes.

"Yes, sir," the first voice replied, with a slight nod. "We'll be ready to launch in 5 minutes."

[Kyle Raiden]

Space: the final frontier. These are the voyages of the Sta-

POING!!

Kyle's attention was ripped back to the cockpit. An alarm shrieked at him. His eyes scanned the console, trying to track it down.

POING! POING! POING!

A light flashed above his head. He reached up, and pressed it. "What is that?!" he yelled, the alarm sound suddenly disappearing from beneath his voice. "What was the alarm..."

The ship shook. Kyle lurched forward, grabbing the console in front of him to stop his forward motion. "We are being fired upon," Trinity replied politely.

"Great," Kyle muttered. Tapping a button in the center of the console, the manual controls extended. A steering control, much like the one on a Starfighter, appeared beside his right hand. Pedals to control the yaw of the ship appeared at his feet. The throttle control appeared by his left hand. Gripping the latter firmly, he threw it forward, pushing the sublight engines to full speed.

He reached up, and flicked the control that would move his ship's blasters into position. Outside the ship, the lower pair of S-Foils from an X-Wing lowered from the radically altered SoroSuub Yacht, sinking into a position ready to fire. Another switch caused the concealed Concussion Missile launchers to descend. The guy who'd designed this ship obviously didn't want to be outgunned.

Hauling back on the stick, the ship rolled, and Kyle got a glimpse of his adversary. Well, adversaries. Four Cloakshapes drifted in a loose formation, heading towards him. He waited for a target lock on the one at the extreme left, and fired. Scarlet bolts of energy lanced from beneath his ship, pounding heavily into the forward shields of the ship. “Great,” Kyle muttered. “They have decent shields.”

He twisted and rolled, trying to evade the fire of the smaller, more agile craft. He was failing. His shields were running down. They wouldn’t last in a fight against four fighters. Lets boost my life expectancy. Sliding his thumb to the top of the stick, hovering over the various buttons that lay there, Kyle prepped the first three Concussions to fire. His eyes narrowed, and he growled, as his hands strained on the controls to get a target lock. A solid chime filled his ears. He fired. Once. Twice. Two streaks of fiery orange energy shot out from his ship’s belly. Kyle watched as, one by one, they impacted into their target. The first shattered the aft shields, letting the second collide straight into the ship’s hull. It stabbed through the fuel cells. The ship exploded in a burst of light, fragments of the ship raining against the insides of the shields as, bit by bit, the fighter was destroyed.

Reaching for the comm. controls, Kyle started broadcasting. “This is Kyle Raiden of the LionHeart. Cease your hostilities at once, or I’ll turn you into space dust, one by one.” He growled. “I have plenty more missiles where those came from.”

A silence followed. Kyle chased another fighter, laser fire splashing against their rear shields. The third missile fired, smashing through the already weakened shields, and slicing off the port wing. The fighter span, careering towards its wingman, clipping his shields as it flew off to an explosive end. The pilot of the third craft fought to keep control, their ship knocked off-course by the impact. They fought to keep the ship steady, and to their credit, they did. Their ship returned to its previous course…right inside Kyle’s sights. His fingers tightened on his trigger, blaster fire spat forth, turning the third fighter into a dazzling light show. The climax was reached, as the fighter turned into a miniature replica of a supernova.

“Just you and me,” Kyle said over the comm., speaking to the last Starfighter. “Tell me who you are, and who you work for.”

No words came in answer, merely a Proton Torpedo. “Proton Torpedo…is that not the standard greeting when communications are down?” Trinity asked, her somewhat naïve sales personality representing her collective mind.

“I think it’s the standard greeting when you don’t like someone,” Kyle replied. He watched, as the Proton Torpedo closed. He gulped, and stared out of his viewport at it. “Frell.”

[Kyle Raiden]

Kyle felt the explosion rock his ship. He felt the flash of light, even through his closed lids. And yet, he felt no pain. No coldness. No sudden depressurisation. No lack of oxygen. He opened his eyes.

“What the frell happened?” he asked, in disbelief. The torpedo was gone, but his ship was not.

“The torpedo was detonated prematurely,” the monotone of Trinity’s tactical mind replied.

Kyle blinked. “Huh?”

“Raiden.” A strong, feminine voice spoke over the comm…not the voice of Trinity, but the voice of the Cloakshape pilot. “Land. Now.”

It was no question. It was an order. Despite the fact that she could not see him, Kyle nodded. “Okay then. Lead the way.”

“Negative.” Her voice was cold. “I will follow.”

* * *

“You killed him.” Kyle turned, not expecting the voice to be behind him. She sprang from beside the ramp, slamming into his body, knocking him to the floor. “You killed my father!”

Kyle felt a vibroblade pressed against his neck; felt the vibrations transferred from the metal to his skin. He looked up into her deep, crystal blue eyes, and felt her long blonde hair fall against his face. He saw her tears, felt her sadness. “I had to,” he whispered, his own sadness breaking his voice. “He tried to kill me first.”

Her lip trembled, and a tear dropped from her face onto Kyle’s. The vibroblade fell away. “I know,” she whispered back, head dropping to rest on Kyle’s shoulder. “I know.”

Her tears warm against his neck, Kyle’s hands slid slowly around her, holding close the woman he had grown to love; the daughter of the man he had killed. “I’m sorry, Takara.” He kissed her shoulder softly. “I’m so sorry.”

“They sent me to avenge him,” she said, drawing away. “They wanted me to kill you.”

Kyle’s eyes fell. He nodded slightly. “I deserve to die. You deserve your vengeance.”

“I do not want my vengeance. I want you.” Anger spilled into Kyle’s voice, and she grabbed his head, forcing him to look at her. “All you did was love me, and that is no a crime. If it were…” Her voice trailed away. She leant down, and kissed his lips gently. “If it were, then I too should die. The way you feel about me is no more a crime than the way I feel about you.”

Kyle’s arms embraced her, and they kissed once more. His eyes closed as his lips enfolded hers. He kissed her with every ounce of passion he had been forced to contain. The last barrier of their forbidden love was now removed. They could be together at last. For the first time that he could remember, Kyle was happy. He was happy, and he was never going to let that go.

[Kyle Raiden]

"Do I have to wear it?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because."

Kyle sighed, and stared down at the strange synthetic garment in his hands. It was a dark red, rich. It was a flight suit...he knew that. He and his beloved were going into business together. They'd called in some help from a few of her old friends...former employees of Mathas, the man he'd killed. Now there were eight of them, Kyle included. They'd picked up more Cloakshapes...there were eight of them. That meant that Kyle needed to be a fighter pilot. And that, in turn, meant he needed to wear the uniform. The dark red flightsuit. The skin-tight dark red flightsuit. He sighed again, slipped into his quarters, and locked the door behind you.

He glared menacingly at it, pouring every ounce of the emotion and personality he'd forged for himself since the Federacy into his voice. "Lets get it on."

* * *

A wolf-whistle. Great.

Kyle walked stiffly. The new flightsuit was, well, new. The fabric hadn't loosened yet. He could hardly move. He could hardly breathe. The only thing he could do was stand there, and feel like an idiot.

She smiled at him. She. Takara. His love. His fiancee. "You look good."

"Thats a relief," Kyle muttered back. "I don't feel it."

Takara giggled, and wrapped her ams gently around him. "Its just like mine," she said, staring into his eyes, a twinkle in her own. "It'll look even better on the bedroom floor."

Kyle became infected with her smile. He couldn't help it. The happiness she brought him had given him the first real emotions he could ever remember feeling. He kissed her. Then everything went dark. It seemed that Kay, his droid, had finally worked out the right moment to turn out the lights.

[Kyle Raiden]

"All fighters: report in."

"Redwolf Eight, ready and waiting." Kyle felt like an idiot. Still. It had been a month since he'd first got his flightsuit, and he still felt stupid wearing it. At least up here, no one could see him. He flicked off his comm, and sighed.

Redwolf Squadron was on the prowl. As usual, Kyle sat and waited, his flight guarding the exit for Takara and hers. She'd be here soon. Then they'd return home. One last mission, she had said. One last mission before they could settle down. One more mission before their new home. Their new life. Their happily ever after. One more mission...

* * *

The blaster fell from his hands. His feet fell from the floor. The floor felt to his knees. It was over. She was gone. Their dreams were smashed, their future shattered. Every last ounce of happiness faded from Kyle's mind. She had been stolen from him...ripped away. Someone was behind this, and somehow, in some way, Kyle would make them pay.

* * *

Two had passed. Kyle's hand began to shake. They've been in there too long... His orders were to wait. The raid was covert. There was much to do. But still, two hours was a long time…

He gripped the controls of his fighter, willing away the fear. But it was too strong. It would not be willed away. He screamed, hammered the throttle to full, and punched the comm. "I'm going in."

"Eight...get back here! Do not break formation...repeat, do not break for-"

Smoke slowly filled the cockpit, as Kyle slowly slid his pistol back into its holster. "Shut up," he muttered.

* * *

"We are going to have a conversation." Kyle paced slowly back and forth, head level, eyes fixed on a patch of air that preceded him a few inches from his nose. "We are going to have a conversation about what happened here." His hands tightened into fists. "About why what happened here happened." His eyes narrowed. He turned, swung, and brought himself down so his eyes stared into those of his captive, bound in his chair, lashes almost touching. "And about what you are going to do about it."

The figure spat, his eyes filled with hate. He laughed as Kyle straightened up, wiping the saliva from his cheek. Kyle turned around, moving away slowly, step by step. The laughing grew louder, as the captive's face split into a smile, exposing his bloodstained teeth. "Pretty girl you had there." Kyle could feel the rage rising inside him, and the captive could see it. His smile grew, and he continued, his voice taunting. "It is a shame she had to die...the time we spent together was most memorable." Malice slipped into his voice, and flowed into his eyes. "You chose your woman well."

"Shut up." Kyle's voice was soft, broken by rage. He fought to contain it within him, fought against the urge to scream, and to tear his captive limb from limb. All but one ounce of his being longed to do so. The strength of the ounce trying to resist was beginning to waiver.

"I will tell you nothing."

Kyle span, a pistol appearing in his hand as his self control stretched to little more than a thread. His eyes burned as he stared down the blaster, aimed at his captive's chest. "Talk," he said, through gritted teeth.

* * *

Kyle ducked and rolled, the ground spinning over his head. His feet found purchase, and he came up on one knee, pistol already aimed at his target. He snapped off two quick shots before he aimed again, his second volley felling another of the pirate band. Kyle’s senses reached out. His ears sought out the sounds of blaster fire, practiced ears guiding practiced hands and eyes. He turned, and dove forward, landing on his belly and shooting the legs of another from beneath a table. As their body fell, Kyle squeezed off a few more shots. They were dead before they landed.

The central bay formed the heart of a crucifix. The hanger bay had formed the northern wing. The longest part to the south housed the bulk of the base…east and west were merely cargo bays of epic proportions. The base had been almost devoid of entrance, save for the one that Kyle and his fighter had created. Takara was in the south wing. He knew it. Somehow, he could sense her there. She needed him. Clambering to his feet, he ran.

His feet hammered against the cold, durasteel floor, as he sprinted between crates, hurdled over boxes, dodged around locked containers, ducking blaster bolts, and snapping off a few of his own in reply. He would not be stopped. He could not. Nothing in existence could keep him from her. Nothing.

He levelled his blaster at the door controls, and fired.

* * *

Her limp, bruised, battered and weakened form hung in his arms as he helped her run back to the hanger. Once there, they’d steal a shuttle, fly away, and this way of life would be behind them. As they paused to hide behind a stack of crates, Kyle looked along the path that lay before them. They were almost there, almost free.

Kyle’s eyes returned to his love. He kissed her lips softly, and smiled a little. “Its alright,” he whispered. “Everything will be alright.” He took her hand in his, gently tracing his fingers over the deep wounds her bonds had made in her wrists. “Come on…lets go home.”

Kyle dropped to his shoulder and rolled, coming up in a crouch to strafe fire across the chemical containers the pirates were using as cover. His last shot hit. The container ruptured. Fire leapt forth, and consumed the others. Kyle turned to the crawling form of Takara. “Come on!”

Staggering on tired and injured legs, Takara ran forward as fast as she could. Kyle ran back, his arms reaching to hold her, ready to whisk her from her feet to the moderate safety of the hanger. Sounds faded. His vision slowed. He could feel his heart beat, slow and steady, pounding against the inside of his chest. He could hear each long breath. His head turned slowly, and red light shot before his eyes. “No!” he yelled, diving forwards towards Takara. But he wasn’t fast enough. The crimson bolt reached her first. She stumbled, and fell.

Kyle watched in horror. The ground smacked into his chest. The first bolt was followed by another, and then another. Soon, what had been a safe passage was now a killing zone. And it had made its first kill. Takara lay there, unmoving. The life was gone from her body. A tear rolled down Kyle's cheek. She was gone, never to return. He had only one last thing to cling to. He had his revenge.

Turning away, and setting his sights on the hanger, he ran.

* * *

The blaster fell from his hands. His feet fell from the floor. The floor felt to his knees. It was over. She was gone. Their dreams were smashed, their future shattered. Every last ounce of happiness faded from Kyle's mind. She had been stolen from him...ripped away. Someone was behind this, and somehow, in some way, Kyle would make them pay.

He turned. From the shadows of his stolen shuttle, a figure moved. They smiled menacingly, blaster aimed at Kyle’s head. “Do not try and resist. If you do, you will die.”

The figure moved so his blaster almost touched the side of Kyle’s head. Kyle’s fists clenched. His resolve was set. One purpose filled his mind. Revenge.

He spun, leg swinging up to smash into the back of the pirate’s knees. They toppled, tumbling backwards towards the ground. Kyle grabbed the rifle, and yanked it from their hands. Casting it into the shadows, he let out a yell, and dove at the pirate. Hit after hit flew from his fist into the pirate’s chest. He felt ribs cracking beneath his knuckles. He drew his fist back, and with every last ounce of strength he could muster, threw it into the pirate’s face. The pirate’s eyes grew wide as the fist flew towards him. His head smashed back into the ground, nose flattening against his face. Then his body turned limp.

Kyle felt the rage subside. Now he had a captive. Now he could get answers. And, when he got them, he would make the people involved suffer as Takara had suffered. He would kill each and every last one of them. Only then would his revenge be complete.

His eyes returned to the unconscious prisoner, and then flicked to a vacant chair in the shuttle’s cabin. He clambered to his feet, and set off in search of rope.

[Kyle Raiden]

Revenge is a powerful force. The quest for vengeance cannot easily be ignored. The call to seek justice cannot easily be resisted. The desire to kill is all consuming. Revenge had gripped Kyle. He lived for nothing else. Everyone he had ever known or loved was now dead, struck by a serpent cowering behind a flag of truce.

The first few stages of his vengeance was complete – a pirate base now littered with corpses, and his captive slain for justice’s sake, still bound, and broken by Kyle’s own hand. The pirate shuttle was now behind him; left intact in the wilderness, save for an anti-personnel blaster he had “requisitioned” for his own ship. Now he travelled the outer rim, searching for leads on the criminal organisation known unto him only as “Venom”.

There is only one force more powerful than revenge. It clouds the mind, binds the body, and casts a shadow over life itself. Remorse. In its icy grip, it is hard to find the strength to carry on. It casts a lead curtain over everything. Kyle had found the strength. His revenge was his strength…his anger…his pain. That was all that drove him to carry on. But it came at a heavy cost.

Sir.

Kyle’s mind snapped back to reality. He looked around the cabin with his tear-filled eyes, wiping the streaks from his cheeks with the back of his hand. “What is it, Trin?”

We are ready to revert to realspace.

Kyle almost smiled. Almost. The ship had decreased the internal comm volume, and adjusted the resonance of its vocabulator. The voice seemed softer, and more sensitive than normal. If he remembered, he’d have to thank them for that later. But now, something killed any trace of a smile. The swirling blue of Hyperspace was replaced with the fixed black of a starfield, the planet of Tatooine forming a golden jewel at its heart. Adjusting the controls, his ship headed for Mos Eisley, and his first lead.

* * *

”Kyle.”

The voice spoke to him, soft and gentle, cutting through the ambient web of sound that flooded the cantina.

”Kyle.”

It spoke again, strangely familiar, drawing him towards its source. He felt himself moving, not unwillingly, but not entirely under his control, either. He saw a figure sitting in the corner…a cloaked figure, dark and mysterious.

”Kyle!”

Slowly, the figure drew back the cloak. The most beautiful creature he had ever seen sat there, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, deep eyes looking into his own. Kyle’s breath caught in his throat. “Takara?”

”Kyle!” the figure screamed desperately, her expression changing to one of pure panic. “Help me!”

Before his very eyes, Kyle watched his fiancée change from the thing of beauty that he remembered, to the bruised, bloodied and battered shadow that he had watched die only a week before. She fell, cloak vanishing, the cantina evaporating into nothingness. All that remained was the cold, oppressive greyness of the Pirate base, Takara lying there, the life that had brought so much joy into Kyle’s completely drained. A tear rolled down his cheek. A hand touched his shoulder…

* * *

”Sir!”

Kyle jerked forward abruptly. His bleary eyes looked around. He was back, in the cabin of his ship. He looked. Trinity had placed a hand on her shoulder. He breathed deeply, trying to calm himself. He looked around. Hyperspace was outside his window. It had only been a dream. He sighed, disappointment and relief flowing together into a weight he longed to remove from his chest.

”We are ready to revert to realspace.”

Kyle nodded. “Handle it, Trin,” he said weakly, rising from his chair.

”But…sir…”

He spun, grabbing the droid by the arm, and glaring into its eyes. “Handle it.”

Trinity nodded. “Yes, sir.”

[Trinity]

A droid swearing is something rarely heard. Usually, droids are quiet, calm, collected. Usually, profanities are not part of their day-to-day language packet. However, Trinity was far from usual.

"You know Kay, I do believe this ship doesn't want to be in working order." The R2 whistled in agreement. "In fact, if it weren't for the fact that my conciousness was iremovably linked to its main computer, I would recommend that he vaporise it."

Kay let out a series of short, high-pitched warbles. The lights in Trinity's eyes dimmed as the internal lid-like shutters closed down over them. She raised her arm, the Super Battle Droid blaster ready to fire. Her combat persona came to the fore. "Get to the control cabin, and prepare to activate the internal defenses."

Kay beeped a yes, and trundled off. Advancing slowly, Trinity came to the top of the access ramp, and prepared to fire...

[Kyle Raiden]

Kyle stared into the glass, willing its contents to float up into his mouth, and flow down into his stomach. Try as he might, he couldn't motivate his arm enough to lift the glass to his lips. He sighed.

"More peanuts, pleas'."

Kyle's eyes looked away from his glass for a moment. They were still there. They'd been there all night, watching him. That warranted another sigh from Kyle, before his eyes returned to his drink. Now wasn't the time to worry about his observer. He had other things on his mind.

A year, to the day. Energy dribbled into his arm, and the glass poured a mouthful of foamy green liquid down his throat. He set the glass down heavily, froth spilling over the edges. His hand shrank back, sliding back across the bar, and dropping to his waist. It re-appeared, a blade clutched in its fingers. Stretching out his other arm, Kyle revealed the inside of his wrist. A series of scars, identical in length, depth, and severity to each other, cut across his skin. One for each act of justice. He pressed the blade against his skin, crimson blood bubbling up around its point. The knife cut across, following the pattern that had been laid down six times before. He was keeping a tally. The 'gate' and its solitary companion were joined by a scarlet stripe. Today he had made his seventh kill. For the seventh time, he had avenged his fiancee against her killers. Seven of the pirates he had met on that fateful night now lay dead - nine pilots, their technician, and Kyle's first captive, the Executive Officer. Many had died by Kyle's blaster that very night...but some had fled. Now, all Kyle lived for was to hunt them down. Three remained, by Kyle was no closer to finding the mastermind behind it all. He had no doubt that the crimes ran beyond the fourteen souls he had sworn to kill. Out there, somewhere, a fifteenth lurked, safe beneath his blanket of secrecy. But they would be hunted down, just like the others. Takara would be avenged...if not by Kyle Raiden, then by the Lone Wolf.

The words stuck in his mind. Lone Wolf. By day, Kyle Raiden ferried cargo from port to port, evading patrols in an endless quest for profit. But by night, the Lone Wolf stalked the streets, hunting down the last of the pirates. It was no accident that Lone Wolf followed wherever Kyle went. They were one and the same. But, as long as no one realised why, Kyle Raiden would be safe. After all, tracking down the pirates was far easier for a potential employer than for a potential assassin.

"What ye doin'?" asked a voice from beside his shoulder.

Kyle's arm snapped back, the knife vanishing into his sleeve. "Nothing."

"Ah, that's alright then." Kyle's stalker slid into the barstool beside him. "Aiden," he said, holding out a hand. "Aiden Xaar." Kyle grunted.

Aiden withdrew his hand slowly, and looked around a little awkwardly. A screen in the corner flashed up a Holonet report. "Looks like the Lone Wolf's been killin' again." He chuckled. "One of the most notorious criminals in the Outer Rim, coming to our lil' ball o' rock...its almost like bein' visited by a celebrity." Kyle grunted again.

"So..." Aiden began sliding his glass across the bar between his hands, pushing it back and forward across a film of spilt ale, foam, and probably a fair few bodily fluids. "Why d' ye think he's here?"

Kyle shrugged, more bothered about the annoying sound the glass made than the fact that this Aiden was talking about him. "Vacation."

Aiden raised an eyebrow. "Vacation?" Kyle nodded. "Nah. I don't think so. I think he was lookin' for someone. And I think..." He nodded towards the screen. "I think he found 'em."

"You think too much."

Aiden grinned. "Better than not thinkin' at all."

Kyle sighed, and turned round in his chair. Only then did he notice how unique in appearence Aiden actually was. His face glistened with piercings, his hairless scalp catching flecks of the dim light, and throwing them off in different directions. On his forehead, a brand of a set of crosshairs floated between his eyes. Aiden noticed Kyle staring, and tapped it with his finger. "I worked for a sniper once. He didn't like how I did a job, so he did this." Aiden's smile faltered ever so slightly. "He told me that, if I failed him again, he'd use it for target practice."

Kyle nodded solemnly. "What did you do?"

An impish grin alighted Aiden's face. "I cut off his index fingers...its hard te shoot someone without 'em."

Kyle sighed, and turned back to the bar. "What do you want?"

"A job."

A growl formed in Kyle's throat. "I don't work at night. Or in the small hours of the morning. If you want a job on my ship, talk to my droid. She'd be more than happy to tell you which airlock to jump out of."

Aiden's eyes sparkled. "I think ye do work at night, Mr Raiden. In fact, I think ye just got back from a job." He pointed at the Holonet screen. "That job."

Every ounce of the anger and the remorse he'd felt faded from Kyle's body. Cold, emotionless objectivity gripped his mind. His voice was an order, not a request. "My ship. Now."

Aiden grinned. "That's more like it."

[Trinity]

.

[Aiden Xaar]

"You need to take a little more care over your security..."

Aiden's eyes widened, as Trinity stared down at him from the top of the ramp. "The bloody thing's gonna shoot me!" he yelled, diving to the side and pulling out a blaster pistol.

Kyle shook his head and sighed, walking calmly towards his droid. "Trinity, this is Mr Aiden Xaar. For now, he is our friend." He shot Aiden with a quick glare. His voice dropped to little more than a whisper. "Keep an eye on him."

Trinity managed an awkward, robotic nod. "Kay is manning the IS."

"Good." He looked back at Aiden, who had climbed back to his feet, and was advancing carefully up the ramp. "Come on."

"Your droid looks scary," he muttered.

"You should see the parents," Kyle replied.

Aiden laughed nervously.

* * *

"Its obvious you know who I am, Mr Xaar." Kyle paced back and forth in front of the chair where Aiden sat. "However, I know very little about you. Speak."

Aiden took a deep breath, and began. He told Kyle about his childhood, growing up as a thief on the streets. He told him how one crime had led to another. How his morals had been left on the wayside. How he'd become the "Widowmaker" - an assassin specialising in acts of vengence against unfaithful husbands, on behalf of their wife. They paid him, and he turned them into a widow. Thus, the name had been born.

"There's not much else to tell really, Mr Raiden." He shrugged. "I've moved from planet to planet, listenin' on the grapevine for unhappy wives. I don't go for high profile cases all that much...just the odd family here and there. It doesn't rake in the credits, but its enough te keep me alive."

Kyle stopped, resting his hands on the arms of Aiden's chair, bringing his eye's mere inches from the assassin's. "It sounds like you're set. Why do you want a job with me?"

Aiden sank back in his seat a little, more out of surprise than fear. It was obvious that he could handle himself and, aside from being a little jumpy (no doubt thanks almost entirely to the copious amounts of alcohol he'd consumed so far that day), he was pretty tough. He smiled. "Like it or not, Mr Raiden, I know who ye are. Its selfish self-preservation. If I'm on your side, you'll hopefully put as much effort into keeping me alive as you would do tryin' te kill me." His smile faltered slightly, as Kyle stared at him harder. "I don't want te end up like the other people ye killed."

Kyle's gaze didn't move away for quite some time. When it did, his whole body relaxed. He nodded a little, partly to Aiden, and partly to himself. "I have a lead on my next target. It should take a few days to track him down...in the mean time, you can start showing me what you're capable of." He nodded towards the door. "Third door on the left. Stay there, unless I, Trinity or Kay come for you."

Aiden's grin returned, full-force. "Aye, aye, Cap'n." He sprung from his chair, and had made a few strides towards the door before he stopped. "There was one request I had..."

Kyle remained stone-faced. "What?"

The grin tweaked at Aiden's lip again. "I want a bloody costume."

[Kyle Raiden]

Two figures crept through the depths of a darkened alleyway, shadows cloaking them as they moved. One figure, his red suit glinting in the dim light, scanned the busy street beyond, alive with the steady pulse of city life. The second figure hung back, hiding in the blackness to escape even the casual gaze of a disinterested passer-by. "Come on," urged Kyle, the Lone Wolf, in voice little louder than a breath.

Uncomfortably, his companion shuffled forwards. "Are ye sure this is the best ye can come up with?" The figure was certainly a curious sight. Most of his solid frame was hidden away beneath a black jumpsuit acquired from some storage cabinet or other. The owner was obviously much larger than Aiden; the jumpsuit had been tightly fastened at waist, ankles and wrists to ensure that it remained mostly out of the way. His hands and feet were clad simply in black leather. His face however...much more ingenious means had been taken to disguise that. Beneath his jumpsuit, Aiden wore a large, hooded sweater. The hood was pulled down right over his face, and tied off to his collar. Eyeholes had been cut crudely.

Kyle restrained a chuckle. "Don't worry...we'll come up with something better for next time.”

"We'd better," Aiden muttered back.

Kyle knew what Aiden meant…it wasn’t about the costume. It was about the ‘next time’. He hopes we’ll live long enough for there to be one…and so do I. Aiden made to talk again, but a raised hand stopped his words in his throat. "We have company," Kyle whispered softly.

Within seconds, the quiet alleyway had become a raging war zone. Kyle leapt, his leg swinging up higher than many would have considered natural. There was a loud crack as the thug's jaw leapt out of its socket, Kyle's foot in close pursuit. The foot pulled him round sharply, just in time for his raised elbow to collide heavily with the back of the thug's head. They toppled, slamming to the ground.

Kyle took a brief moment to observe their "battle". Aiden was more than holding his own. The foot-and-a-half pole Aiden carried had been a source of intrigue to Kyle. Now, he learned its true use. After the twist of a concealed ring, one at either end of its length, the pole had telescoped out. Now, it measured a full 6 foot 6, and was in the process of a whirlwind manoeuvre aimed at the side of a thug's neck, Aiden at its epicentre. "Your better than I thought," he said quietly, so only he would hear.

Turning quickly, his fist swung towards the bullseye perched in the nose of the next target. Even through the material of his gloves, Kyle felt the satisfying crunch of shattering cartilage, as the man’s nose flattened against his chest. A knee snapped up suddenly, catching the thug between the legs. He keeled over, groaning. With a quick, sharp motion, Kyle twisted and shattered his neck. The thug fell to the ground with a thud.

Drawing his two pistols with a flourish, he launched a volley of crimson energy towards the advancing line of targets that had seemingly emerged from the shadows themselves. But armed only with crude clubs, chains, and vibroblades, they were no match for his blasters. Aided by the quickly drawn pistol of his sidekick, Kyle made short work of the opposition. Through the efforts of he and Aiden, seven more kills could now pass onto Kyle’s conscious. But they were merely collateral damage. The real target lay inside. Beneath his suit, the scars on Kyle’s arm tingled.

“Guard the entrance,” he ordered Aiden.

* * *

The light in the warehouse was dim. Beams of moonshine sliced through the thick dusty air from high above, but down here, Kyle was safe from their touch. In the shadows, nothing stirred. Kyle watched, listened, and waited.

“Welcome.”

Kyle spun. In the distance, lit faintly, a figure moved through the shadows towards him. He moved with confidence…certainty…without fear. “I will give you fear,” Kyle whispered.

“You must be the infamous Lone Wolf.”

“I am.” Kyle’s reply came as a growl, as he moved towards his next victim. “And you are next on my list.”

The pirate grinned. “I do not fear death. And I do not fear you.”

“Good.” Kyle’s hand snapped up, blaster held ready. He fired.

The pirate keeled over, clutching the burned hole in his chest. “You shot me!” he choked, writhing on the floor to try and escape the pain. “Why?” His voice was desperate. “Why does the Lone Wolf hunt me?”

Kyle stepped forward, and knelt before the dying man. “Because…” he pulled off his mask. “I am Kyle Raiden. A year ago, you killed my Fiancée, Takara.” He leant closer, his face looming over the pirate. “You took everything from me…my world…my all. Now I take your life from you.” He smiled grimly. “Justice is served.”

“So you’re…you’re the one she…screamed for…” he gasped, between blood-filled coughs.

His eyes narrow, Kyle pressed his blaster against the pirate’s chin. “Say hello to Takara for me.”

A flash of malice filled the dying man’s eyes. “Shall I offer…the same greeting…to your son?”

The blaster dropped from Kyle’s floor. “What?” He grabbed the man by the shoulders. “Tell me!” he yelled. But it was too late. The life faded from his body. In nine words, the pirate had given Kyle hope, and stolen it away from them. “My son…” he whispered.

[Kyle Raiden]

There are times when rage rips through the heart of a man. Times where he looses all sense of reality, and of control. For Kyle, this was one of those times.

He yelled, flinging a storage crate across the bowels of his ship. It smashed against the bulkhead, spilling its contents across the floor of the bay. In the corridor beyond, Aiden and Trinity cowered, avoiding the presence of the infuriated Kyle. But they were safe. Kyle’s anger was not with them. Nor was it with himself. It wasn’t even with the pirates. For the first time, his anger was with his love. Takara. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he screamed, as a chair flew into a near-by crate. “Why did you let me risk you both?” Cargo flew, left and right, Kyle’s arms barely touching his choice of

A chirp sounded from behind him. Kay rolled over slowly, cautiously. Kyle’s mind struggled to process the droid speak. “Because she knew you would risk yourself instead,” Trinity translated, stepping slowly into the room. “She feared that she would loose you.” The droid’s voice was solemn, unusually so for the persona that spoke. “She could not bear the thought of a lifetime of sorrow, with her son as a constant reminder of your absence. She did not tell you of your son, because she loved you more than she loved anything else.”

Kyle fell to his knees, and tears broke free from his eyes, tears of rage converted to tears of sorrow. “My son…” he whispered, over and over. “My love…and my son.”

* * *

Hours passed, but Kyle did not move. He stayed, and wept. Then the tears faded, and an empty shell remained. But still he knelt, lying in the havoc his anger had wreaked. Aiden watched over the security monitors, seated high above on the bridge. The infamous pirate slayer, the man he had envied for his ability to end life, he now pitied for his lack of it. This man killed because it was all he could do. “At least ye cause is worth fightin’ fer,” he said softly. Then he sighed.

Slowly, a frown formed on his face. He swung his legs down from their perch on the consoles, and wound back the security tapes. Ours rewound in seconds, until the tantrum as replayed in glorious Technicolor. His eyes widened in amazement. He froze the footage. He watched, frame by frame, as a crate threw itself across the cargo hold, Kyle standing more than a foot away. “How the hell did ye do that?”

“I don’t know,” Kyle replied in a whisper, suddenly appearing behind him. “I don’t know.”