The Nightmares of Corruption Pt. 2

"There is no honor in disobeying an order, either. Stay with Grime and guard him in my stead. Also, pick one of the honor guard to remain with me. You are correct that it would be improper for Mandalore to be foolish and dismiss all of her warriors."

Grime was staring at De'Ville with a stoic glare as she laid the plan out and then practically told her bodyguards off. They exchanged that glance, THAT glance which Grime could never trust in the eyes of a subordinate. Then again, who was he to think such a thing? The irony was almost amusing. But Grime had seen enough of the Mandos to know they were loyal and honorbound, some of the best tools to employ because they'd fight until they bled water for their leader.

But she had sent them to protect Grime. How very kind of her. And then the Mandos had gone to drawing lots, as to who would be lucky enough to stay behind and who got stuck babysitting De'Ville's clockwork doll of destruction. The Mando who actually had almost a slight resemblance to De'Ville, Grime couldn't remember her name for the life of him, was the fortunate Mando who'd stay behind and most likely die for it. Oh, such grand fortune, to lay one's life on the line for another, sacrificing whatever hopes and dreams one ever had in tribute to what the survivor would hopefully continue to stand for. Grime would much rather prefer to be the latter individual of the two.

"Don't sound so confident, Master. We'll wait for you though, as you say."

Grime's porcelain face shifted in the slightest vision of scrutiny as his eyes went from De'Ville to the remaining Mando. What chance did they stand in this mouse trap? Hawkins bloodied and weary eyes caught De'Ville's vibrant green eyes and he determined he wanted to see her in some kind of vulnerability. He wanted to tear down all the walls, shields, and barriers De'Ville had over that soul she kept hidden behind those eyes and Grime wanted to devour it in an inferno. A pity that she'd most likely die. And doubly so that even though the raw flesh of his face underneath twitched as if possessed, the mask over it remained statuesque.

"Yes... As you say."

He turned on his heel with that and stalked out of the suite. The Mandos gathered their makeshift packs and kits and casually fell in behind the man. Grime reached the lift, and they all stepped in silently. He stared into the reflection of the mirrored walls, as if he were staring into his own ghastly image, but in reality he was watching them, the Mandolorians.

They were restless. Grime didn't have to be able to read minds to know that much. Their loyalties were to Mandalore, and not him. They wouldn't refute her command though, not the word of Mandalore, sacred be her craftily earned title. Hawkins wouldn't expect a mutiny but then again, he wouldn't put it past one of them to devise an accident which could possibly occur to Grime at any given moment.

They exited the building, the Mandolorians speaking to each other in basic as if excited to get out, and interested to go try out the scene at some club they had caught wind of in the upper levels of Coruscant. Grime exoskeleton kept up with their stroll with some ease but nothing about his body had healed from earlier and the life support systems hidden beneath his cape on his back were silently hard at work to keep his frail heart going.

"Stop... I need... a moment..."

A female Mandalorian, Grime almost wished he cared enough to remember their bloody names, looked concerned. Not for him of course but that they might still be within a dangerous vicinity of the building. If the Inquisitoriate was coming in full force, they had a wonderful reputation for just eliminating any possible witnesses on ample suspicion of association, of course. They were maybe four blocks away, and Grime could care less at the moment. They'd lose themselves in the crowd and no one had a clue that these five might have something to do with anything.

Dredale remained behind with Lilaena, quickly and efficiently laying out Mandalore's armour and helping the Jedi get into it. De'Ville returned the favor by helping the Mando with her own armour, and then they placed their helmets on.

Both of similar size and shape, the armored females closed the doors to the adjoining bedrooms, and shoved the couch against the main door. Dredale tapped on the window, but Lilaena shook her head. They wouldn't break the glass, not yet anyway. While an escape might be needed, they hadn't had enough room to bring jetpacks along with their Mandalorian armour. It was a long way down.

The hotel was a short one, by Coruscant standards. But moderately luxurious, and located in an upscale area. Emphasis on the "up", when using that term on Coruscant.

IG-88 clomped into the lobby. Alone and blaring his presence (or so it felt) with most of his sensors active and sending a constant stream of communication to the Imperial AI assigned to him, he cut a conspicuous swath through a small-yet-frightened crowd of tourists. Target J.0032 would be not be caught unaware, in all probability (and he made sure that she was not among those around him in the lobby). But the carpeting was thick and luxurious... IG-88e could move with a high degree of silence upon it.

The hotel staff quailed as he approached them. Only the dimwitted receptionist managed to keep her artificial smile in place as he stopped at the front desk. "An acquisition is located inside this structure, and I am apprehending it. This is officially sanctioned Imperial business. You may leave. Do not activate any alarm systems. I am commandeering your facilities until further notice." IG-88 deposited duplications of his authorizations onto the desk, should they choose to read them instead of running for their lives instantly. Surrepticiously, he also jacked into the front desk's computer and quickly established a wireless connection to it before departing.

As he entered a turbolift, IG-88 noted that all of the staff had departed but for the receptionist, who was inserting the authorization datacards into a reader as she answered a trilling comm system.

The lift's doors swished closed smoothly, and IG-88 unslung a repeater rifle. His Stoukker remained on his back, in case capture seemed an unreasonable proposition. Using the hotel's computer, he identified his Imperial authority and shut down the five turbolifts he wasn't in. The turbolift logs informed him that two of those lifts were occupied; he would have to check them if he had trouble locating Target J.0032.

The turbolift slowed down smoothly, and the doors opened with an equally irritating slowness. IG-88 stepped out onto a corridor floor that absorbed his traditional lack of silence.

The military channel they'd tapped into earlier had gone suspiciously silent after stating that the bounty hunter IG-88 had entered the hotel where the terrorist was located, and Lilaena could not find anything futher on any other comm channels. She questioned her plan to fight in the hotel room, but there was no time to change tactics now.

Her breath reverberated inside the helmet strangely, and she closed her eyes to the HUD and reached out with her senses. The bounty hunter was not organic, and so sensing him would be nearly impossible. But the sight of the droid would bring strong reactions from sentients around him. She hoped to pick up on those emotions.

Nothing.

Dredale checked her gauntlet one more time. The calm before the storm, as it were. Lilaena took a deep breath, and tensed as there was a noise outside the door. Her lightsaber in hand, she still hesitated to activate it.

Thermal scans indicated that Target J.0032 was in her suite. A biological entity that was within the acceptable parameters of a match for her thermal profile was standing in one of the inner chambers of the suite. Unexpectedly, a secondary thermal profile match was standing in room opposite to the first. Thermal imaging was not sufficient to prove either of their identites, beyond their gender and a rough idea of their shape, size, and vicinity.

IG-88 had intended to set up explosive satchel charges along the walls of the adjoining suites, but an inspection of the interior of one of those neighboring suites had altered his decision. The hotel computer had opened the door for him (he had altered, via his hotel uplink, the mechanical protocols required to eliminate the swooshing noise that apparently every door in this structure possessed - at the cost of the door opening at a fifth of its regular speed), revealing a hard marbled antechamber. He could not hope to move across it and retain a desirable probability of detection by his prey. The satchel charges were now housed within each of the turbolifts. There was a plush stairwell on either end of this floor, but IG-88 had not wished to take the chance of planting explosives on the underside of each staircase - if Target J.0032 were aware of his presence (and IG-88 could not discount the extra-sensory perceptiveness of his Force-sensitive prey), he did not want to be on the opposite side of the building from an unguarded stairwell and give her a most perfect opportunity to flee.

The assassin droid loomed a mere meter from the entrance to Target J.0032's suite. Fewer than half of this floor's suites were currently being paid for, according to the hotel computer. IG-88 had not walked across and physically inspected the entire floor, and the range of his thermal scanning system was significantly shorter than the width and length of the floorplan. But from what he had been able to personally scan, he had determined that less than a third of the hotel guests were present. Fire control systems would inform the hotel - and IG-88 - if a plasma torch, a laser cutter, or (more likely) a lightsaber were deployed in Target J.0032's suite. That would signal an attempt to gain access to a higher or lower floor. The hotel's outer walls consisted entirely of a double layer of half-inch transparisteel, but the fact that this was the one hundred and fifty-third floor would make the idea of defenestration a distasteful one to any sentient being.

IG-88 took a short step backward and tapped twice on the door with an outstretched prong. "Room service," he declared as he pivoted slightly to the left and his starboard armored leg shot forward and the idea of a door crumpled around it. His weapons held vertically and drawn tight to his frame, IG-88 continued his spin as his port foot gave him forward momentum through the twisted hole in the middle of the door. Five hundred pounds of armor plating, protected redundant circuitry, and state of the art portable weapons systems burst through the gap in the weakened door and turned it into a meter-wide, IG-88-tall slit framed by glistening shreds of polished steel.

IG-88 did not have a direct line of sight with either target, but his concussion rifle was in his grasp now and ripping the wall between himself and the leftmost target apart. The first shot turned two square meters of that wall into a shower of metallic splinters around the antechamber, and the second followed upon its heels and burned the rest of that area into cinders. The repeater rifle remained pointed at the entrance to the room with the other unidentified target.

The door was compromised within seconds, and the sofa was simply shoved aside as the droid assassin stomped into the hotel suite, concussion rifle firing. Dredale dove rolled on the floor, narrowly missing getting her head blown apart by the first shot as bits of wall rained down. The repeater rifle was pointed in Lilaena's direction, but she didn't hesitate to mimic the Mandalorian's movements and put herself out of the line of fire.

He didn't know which person was his target, which gave her only a slight edge. As his optical receptors scanned the room, he continued shredding the wall to his left with the concussion rifle. Dredale fired her dual blasters, attempting to disable the rifle or cut off his arm while still evading the devastating blasts of concussive force. If not for their helmets, both females would be suffering from bleeding eardrums already.

The hotel room was small, and there wasn't a lot of places to hide or to manuever in. Lilaena ignited the lightsaber in her hand, repelling the bolts from the repeater rifle and drawing the full force of IG-88's attention as she did so.

Both women wore Mandalorian armor. That brought an unexpected touch of class to the modernistic vapid allure of the hotel suite. And an added layer of complexity to IG-88's plans. He still couldn't tell which one was a decoy.

The target on the left burst into the main room wielding a pair of blasters. She rolled under the last burst from the Stoukker and came up firing. IG-88 kicked a decorative couch at her and stutter-stepped (literally crushing the tiles beneath his feet by altering his momentum so suddenly) to the side of the oncoming fire, catching very few bolts with reflective armor plating and - for the moment - avoiding the rest with judicious mechanical precision.

For now, IG-88's concussion rifle lay silent. Besides the fact that his arm was moving around too much to have a good shot, he didn't want Target J.0032 dead. Yet.

The target to IG-88's right bore a lightsaber. Ah. Either a canny move, or a dead give-away. He fired at her with the Imperial-issue repeater rifle, and small blue spherical bolts began sizzling across the room with vicious intent but minimal accuracy. The woman ignited her lightsaber and parried the first few bolts that came her way.

Target J.0032 had been identified. IG-88 slowed his rate of fire in her direction to improve his accuracy, and brought his concussion rifle to bear on her decoy. Meanwhile, the hotel's fire-control systems continued to not engage in response to the activity in the suite.

"Tampering with this establishment's hazard detectors is a Class 2 felony," IG-88 chided.

De'Ville kept deflecting blaster bolts, sending more than a few back to their origin point. The sight of the bounty hunter was bringing up all sorts of unpleasant memories, but she channeled her hate of IG-88 into her defense.

Dredale was holding her own on the other side of the room, but a curt word in Mando'a brought her to Lilaena's side, just behind the protection of her lightsaber. The Mandalorian warrior knelt, propping one arm up and firing small explosive darts from her gauntlet.

The secondary target executed an impressively high forward roll over the couch, which slammed into the transparisteel behind her, and dashed off to the side to get behind the safety of De'Ville's lightsaber.

IG-88e took the reprieve to block several of his own repeater's bolts that his primary target had angled off of her lightsaber back at him. Most impressive, but he was just taking sporadic potshots at her. The last bolt hit a solid plate of armor on his starboard shoulder, lacing a small circle of carbon scoring into it ineffectively. IG-88 flicked the fire-control switch on his repeater rifle, and his next shot sprayed three simultaneous blaster bolts at Target J.0032. And the next. And the next.

The secondary target was kneeling and again returning fire from a wrist-mounted system; the first shot went low and wide to IG-88's left and through the hole in the doorway. His scans identified it as a miniaturized rocket-propelled dart with explosive tips. They lacked real penetrative punch, but were no laughing matter. IG-88 dodged the second dart, and an impressive column of smoke erupted from the explosion in the wall behind him.

Target J.0032 blocked two-thirds of the first tightly-grouped trishot, jerking herself out of the way of the last bolt. The next grouping - sadly, the rifle could fire these at a mere one-third of the rate of the fully-automatic single shots - she only deflected one of, the other two serving to herd her away from her protective stance in front of her colleague. The third grouping inched her even further away, and then the Stoukker spoke.

The latest rocket dart exploded in mid-flight, being in the concussion rifle's line of fire. The detonation blew smoke backwards along the concussive blast's path, effectively inking it and making it visible. IG-88 had aimed low and to the side, and the Stoukker ripped into the floor and the bottom half of the kneeling secondary target. Mandalorian armor was always a bit weak between the joints, and the concussive blast (and shredded floor) bit into them. The target threw herself backwards, minimizing the blunt force trauma of the concussion blast but no doubt in pain, but ended up even further away from Target J.0032. IG-88 shot the Stoukker into the ground in front of the secondary target again, backing her to the transparisteel wall. And he continued to herd De'Ville away with the repeater.

Mind blank with concentration as the repeater rifle began spitting out three bolts simultaneously, Lilaena batted away the destructive energy with her lightsaber. She didn't notice Dredale's predicament until it was too late and the Mando was backed into the transparisteel wall that separated them from the long drop outside.

Her pain roiled off of her in a wave, and Lilaena blinked. She should back up as well, and protect the woman, but the repeater rifle was relentless and it took all her skill to block the triad bolts. She had no time to aim the deflections, though most went in the general direction of the droid assassin. It was save Lilaena, or save the woman she commanded, and she won out in that equation. Dredale was one of the best warriors she'd ever seen - the woman was not down and out just yet.

Lilaena pressed forward, lightsaber flashing as she moved closer to IG-88, the droid she'd already dismembered in the past.

The secondary target stumbled backwards into the wall/window, firing almost wildly compared to her earlier prowess. She had pulled another small blaster from somewhere, and her other wrist-mounted system was being fiddled with. But she had no more time.

IG-88's next shot slammed into her head and upper torso, the concussive blast smacking the warrior against the transparisteel with a cracking sound. The armor they were wearing protected the head and upper torso areas the best, but the blunt force impact of the blast ripped through the seams and did major compressive damage to what was beneath the impenetrable parts. The visor blistered and cracked, the armor glowed with heat, and IG-88 detected multiple points of structural damage to the transparisteel wall.

The next shot snapped bones and did major internal damage, shredded the target's T-shaped visor, and blew a hole through the wall while it crushed the upper part of the woman into it. A blaster and a knife dropped from her hands, and she dangled limply from the transparisteel - her helmeted head had been forced through the gap in the window and the mildly twisted Mandalorian helmet had caught in it somehow, supporting her body weight. The sounds and smells of the outside world began to invade the hotel suite, and air began to whistle inside.

IG-88 had had to begin backing away from Target J.0032. She had adapted well to the repeater rifle's secondary fire mode, and was now advancing at a hazardous rate.

Lilaena gasped inside the helmet as Dredale's death reverberated through the Force. Drawing on the anger it caused, she caught a burst of reflexive speed. The amethyst blade spun, deflecting away the incoming bolts of energy as IG-88 stepped backwards towards the kitchenette. A flick of the Force and the concussion rifle was shoved up and away from her.

The Jedi moved forward impossibly quick, lightsaber flashing inside the droid's reach and aiming for its torso.

The Nightmare stepped into the room fluidly, and without any noise thanks to the sound dampening equipment built into the CMC-400. The feed from IMP, which was actually from the bounty hunter, IG-88e, indicated that it was time to make their move. The droid's concussion rifle was knocked up and the adept burst forward to take advantage of the moment.

The HUD flashed, indicating the shot was clear and the Nightmare leveled his Jackhammer shotgun and fired three spread rounds of 12 centimeter long darts. Given the vector and angle, the bounty hunter was clear but the adept had very little room for escape, as intended. The darts wouldn't be able to pierce those Mandalorian armor plates, but there were enough darts to find those joints quite easily.

Each dart was tipped with DMD, a chemical concoction of a paralyzing nature. At least from an outward appearance. Dead Man's Dream, abbreviated as DMD, was developed by Inquisitor Helghast to paralyze specifically force adepts. Their aptitude in their mental capabilities made the DMD even that more potent upon them because while DMD rendered the body in a physically coma-like state, the mind was very much aware. The mind was left having to face the target's worst fears, worst nightmares, all to a traumatizing degree. Most non-adepts had to be medically surveyed while under the influence of DMD because they had a tendency to give up in shock and simply die. Adepts could survive the toxin easily, but were generally shook up and disoriented when they came out. A normal dosage would put an adept under for six hours if not given any counteragent. This shotgun blast was well over the normal dosage and the adept would most likely require immediate attention to prevent overdosage. Scothis was more than confident that Helghast could pull them out of those comas when the Inquisitor wanted to, whether earlier or later. He was confident only because he'd seen the Inquisitor do it so many times before.

Agent Scothis of Project Nightmare was a scout and sniper by heart. He loved his job. And He never missed, not even adepts.

Perhaps she had allowed her hatred of the droid bounty hunter to cloud her senses instead of accentuating them. As Lilaena pushed forward for the certain kill, the front door of the hotel suite was filled with another body and she was slammed backwards by several hard impacts to her armor.

Lilaena fell to one knee, still struggling to point her saber in the right direction as her reflexes became unnaturally sluggish. IG-88e swiveled towards her and the huge concussion rifle was efficiently and quickly pointed at her helmet's face shield as her lightsaber fell from an unfeeling hand. The blade deactivated as she released it, and it rolled underneath an overturned chair.

The Jedi fumbled at her armor, finding her chest and shoulder had been impacted by darts of some kind, many of which had penetrated between the armor plating and pierced her body. She grasped at the darts, trying ineffectually to remove them even as she fell onto her side. A leg spasmed, and she gasped for air inside the helmet as it suddenly seemed that she would suffocate inside it. Lilaena put her numb hands to each side of the black and white Mandalorian helmet, trying to get it off even as her body betrayed her completely.

Darkness fell.

Scothis moved further into the room but he never lowered his shotgun. Simply because the hits had been confirmed did not mean the adept was necessarily down or that there were not anymore targets available. Anything and Everything was a possible target and maneuvering in urban ops multiplied the risk exponentially. Two more sleek figures moved in, rifles and weaponry alike at eye level, as two more members of Project Nightmare moved in to secure the room. Lang and Jerrard were fluid as they covered the corners and any other possible avenues of entry. The sky outside the hotel room was basked in pale white light as the Inquisitoriate vehicles secured the perimeter of the building. The room began to smell more and more like spent fuel and burnt ozone as one of the vehicles hovered right outside with an open door, waiting for Project Nightmare and the target to board.

The bounty hunter overall was not necessarily ignored but it was obvious that Project Nightmare was packing enough technology and armament to take down anything... The droid was not their concern either, a being within the agreed terms of the bounty hunter's guild was more or less a noncombatant with the bounty taken down now.

"Clear..."

"Clear..."

"Clear..."

Scothis' HUD lit up with a notification that Jerrard was confirming that the Mando with it's head stuck through the window was most definitely deceased. Jerrard's voice continued to fill Scothis' head as Jerrard reported.

"Sir, the target has been secured, vital signs are up, the toxin has almost finished saturating. It should have once we load it up."

"Bring her aboard immediately. Lang, detonate upon departure."

The Inquisitor's voice was the ambient equivalent upon one's soul to having your body crushed by a trash compactor. Scothis smirked as he prided himself in not having a soul to lose in the first place.

"Sir, yes Sir."

Jerrard grabbed the dead weight of De'Ville and stepped to the cracked window of the room. He kicked at one of the corners which shattered with ease and then Jerrard pushed and the solid transparisteel until it began to crack and shift. The transparisteel half broke and half slid out of its setting to where it all just fell outwards. The nearby Inquisitoriate vehicle moved closer, the obvious dark form of Inquisitor Helghast within; the glowing eyes of the Inquisitor's Nightmare armor just seemed to fit the image of fear that the man represented even more.

Scothis and Lang followed behind Jerrard, IMP was supposed to be giving the bounty hunter a notification with enough time to leave the building and how the hunter would receive its pay afterwards.

De'Ville was set down in a cage within the Inquisitoriate shuttle. This shuttle was not merely a troop carrier like the others. This shuttle had been specifically modified for carrying adepts. The Empire had devised special cages for adepts during the purge and they still worked to this day, rendering the adepts useless within.

"Jerrard, I want surveillance on her life signs. We are en route to the Citadel. I want to perform a preliminary interrogation as soon as possible."

"Sir, yes Sir."

In the darkness there were creatures.

Swimming just beyond sight, pulsing and feeling her from the nothingness that surrounded her, the creatures were laughing at her. Lilaena tried to fight them off, tried to blast them with a wave of destructive power, but her body would not move.

The Force did not respond there in the overwhelming darkness.

One of the creatures came close, slimy tentacles and hideous maw suddenly finding a source of light as it wrapped itself around her in her unconsciousness. Afraid and angry, Lilaena was forced to face it - unable to close her eyes or turn her head in this dark place.

The nightmare creature's head dissolved into a familiar face, and Lilaena nearly wept with relief.

Until the woman who hugged her tightly spoke.

"You have failed me, Lilaena." A'na Eldhil's eyes burned with fury, and her arms that encircled the other woman tightened. They were wrapped together as close as lovers, but Lilaena understood that her master meant to kill her.

The Mandalorian armor she wore cracked as A'na Eldhil's grip increased - breaking like an egg shell and squeezing her bones to jelly. She screamed, still transfixed by her master's terrible gaze.

She was dying.

She deserved to die.

You failed me, failed me, failed, failed, failed!

Lilaena heard the voices screaming in her head, and she put her hands to her ears, trying to block them out. Falling in the darkness, her body was whole once more, but she wore no armor or clothes to protect her vunerable flesh.

At the end... when the indeterminable drop was over... she would be dead. Smashed to pieces on the ground. A'na Eldhil was right.

She was a failure.

****

As the transport pulled away from the building, the agent monitoring De'Ville's vitals frowned as her heart rate stuttered and threatened to stop.

The glowing eyes of the Inquisitor snapped to the dimly lit face of the technician present.

"Fix it."

Jerrard did not waste any time, pushing the aide aside and immediately assessing De'Ville's vitals.

"Her mind is weak to the DMD, she's almost slipped into a lower level shock where her body won't have the will to go on."

The Inquisitor did not shift or look away, merely stood there until his command was fufilled.

Jerrard pressed into the pad beside De'Ville and set the aide to work.

"Physically, she's green, Sir. Mentally, I'd say she'll be putty if a miracle doesn't occur in her favor."

"Do not underestimate these adepts, Agent Jerrard."

The transport would be at the Citadel momentarily, and then Helghast would make his own assessment of her mental faculties.