Sestooine Rage

She was watching him almost clinically, feeling strangely detached as Kazaar tortured the officer. The vibroblade was an unbelievably sharp weapon, blade sonically charged to instantly cut through just about anything. The Rebel barely had to touch it to skin to lay the Imperial open.

For some reason it made her think of Hawkins Grime.

"I was thinking, actually, that we should probably be getting out of here. Before some other office on the outside gets cute with your ship."

She shifted her weight on her feet, and added, "You can take him with, if you're bound and determined to frell him up some more."

Kazaar's laugh was hollow. "Those frackers on th'outside got no Force-damned idea what the hell's goin' on. Or they're dead." That was o'pretty pleasant thought to Kazaar.

"But this fracker." Ran th'blade down the Imp's chest leavin' a wide cut. "Naw...he stays."

Took him 'bout five minutes t'pull skin away from rib muscle an' another two t'get down to the bone. Did th'same to the legs and other arm. 'Bout 15 minutes in all.

Kazaar could be frackin' efficient when he wanted to. An' all the while the Imp screamed in pain. But couldn't pass out. Kazaar wouldn't let him.

After 'nother five minutes o'torture, the Rebel disemboweled the Imperial an' left 'it hangin' by the two blades in the wrists.

"Let's get th'frack outta here, Lady." He smirked beneath his helmet an' laughed an almost hideous laugh. "Time t'go home."

Led 'er out the door in silence. Hell, the entire damn building'd gone silence. Just a buncha bodies lying 'round where they'd been shot. Eerily peaceful in some fracked up way.

Kinda how Kazaar wanted it. Too busy savorin' what he'd done.

De'Ville nodded, letting Kazaar take point as she lifted her blaster rifle and followed, going through the motions of checking doorways and such as they went, but she felt the emptiness of the building through the Force. She didn't say anything, didn't think there was anything to say.

The stairwell was quiet as they maneuvered through the command building. Once they got to sections that they hadn't been in previously, the two Rebels tightened up their high/low positions, working together in silence as though they'd been partners for years.

Still, the whole place was empty. It was eerie, or would have been if De'Ville wasn't concentrating on making sure there were no surprises waiting for them.

They slipped outta th'base without running into any trouble. Kazaar was 'least expecting a couple stormies to be runnin' around like Ewoks with their frackin' heads off. Instead there was nothin'.

Just one lone Imp officer (same prissy lookin' fellow who'd waved 'em in few hours before) asleep inna guard house. Not even worth wastin' the energy on.

They made it to th'Night Train an' Kazaar keyed in the entry code. 'Trey' was waitin' for 'em at the top of the entrance ramp.

"Those frackers try t'do anything." Kazaar just kinda smirked at th'response he got from the R7 droid. "Really...tried t'place a trackin' device on the rear landin' gear. What'd ya do?"

'Trey' *twittered* a response an' seemed t'be almost laughing.

"Ya drop o'pulse grenade on 'em? Damn...what'd they do after that?" Kazaar chuckled. "Didn't approach? Nice work. We'll hit up Anarak make sure Imps didn't leave any presents ya might've missed.

"Don't worry 'Trey,' ain't sayin' ya did o'bad job." Finally took off 'is helmet as th'loading ramp closed. "Just wanna make sure. Paranoia ain't o'bad thing."

He opened one o'his four humidors on th'way to the cockpit and grabbed o'pretty dark cigar. Acrid smoke filled the air as Kazaar started puffin' away. Tasted pretty damn good. So'd the double o'bourbon he gulped from as he slid into the pilot's seat.

"Let's get outta here."

Few minutes later an' De'Ville and Kazaar were leavin' Sestooine.

De'Ville ignored the conversation between Kazaar and the droid, walking instead to the armory where she put aside her borrowed weapons for cleaning. The ship took off, and she steadied herself against the bulkhead with a hand, and then found a seat to strap into for the jump to lightspeed.

Once they were well on their way, a process of just a few minutes, De'Ville started taking off the Mando'ade armor. First, the helmet, which she placed on its stand. Then the microweave flightsuit was carefully undone, though she had to do a bit of twisting to get at the connections.

Generally, this wasn't something she was used to doing on her own. As Manda'lor she always had someone to help her in and out of her armor. A grunt in the doorway startled her, and then the smell of Kazaar's cigar wafted in, followed shortly by the man himself in his blood stained armor. Her nose twitched, and she watched him without expression, still absently tugging on her suit to get the fasteners undone.

Kazaar'd already gotten his wrist gauntlets off an' was massaging his wrists. Wasn't that they hurt, but gauntlets always left o'weird feelin,' like his hands felt almost naked without 'em. Pretty frackin' stupid since Kazaar hardly ever work th'Mandy armor.

"Here, lemme get th'back." Got behind De'Ville an' started undoin' the clasps. She shucked off th'top, showing her scarred back 'neath her bra. "Why I don't always wear armor. Tough as all hell t'get off."

Kazaar turned 'round while De'Ville took off her pants an' slid on a pair of shorts he'd brought in. Kazaar popped the two clasps on his shoulders. "Grab th'two back clasps will ya? Ain't that flexible and th'heavy duty armor makes it pretty frackin' tough f'me to pull it off."

She nodded, moving around behind him and pulling on the clasps until they popped open. He pulled at the heavy armor, and she helped him get the top part off, taking it and putting it on it's stand while he took care of the pants.

"Going to be a hell of a clean-up job," she said quietly, running her finger down the chest plate next to a bit of congealing blood. De'Ville turned and looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "You have done that before. Tortured a man to death. You knew what you were doing."

Her skin pimpled under a sudden breeze of cool air from the vents, reminding her she was barely clothed. She walked over to the blaster rifle she'd set aside, taking it apart with smooth efficiency.

"'Trey'," Kazaar keyed his comm. "When ya done gettin' us into hyperspace, bring that armor cleanin' kit down."

Gave Lady o'hooded look. "Yup. Did it to o'few frackers who were hoggin' air they oughta be letting others have. Frackers who were preyin' on people they shouldn't've. Or Imps who frackin' deserved it. Bastards. Wasn't 'nough. He'll woulda done more if their frackin' bodies hadn't crashed. Pain I give 'em'll never match what they doled out. Frackers deserved it."

Pulled apart one o'"The Twins" an' started cleaning 'er. "What ya expect just t'shoot the frackin' pieces o'bantha crap? The hell's wrong with ya?"

She laughed at that, a throaty chuckle as she started scraping off the carbon scoring inside the barrel of the rifle. "Merely an observation, Kazaar." She set aside the power cell, and returned to cleaning, doing a quick, but thorough job.

De'Ville leaned her hip against the counter and looked across at him, one hand idly rubbing her belly. "How about a drink?"

Kazaar smirked. She was talkin' his language. He downed 'is glass an' strode outta the room, tellin' De'Ville to follow. Turned out th'only place he didn't have alcohol stored was th'armory. Sure there was room but Kazaar figured he'd need more space f'blasters, explosives an' the like.

Felt the Night Train speed up o'bit as it hit hyperspace. 'Least they were leavin' that hell of o'world behind. Frackin' Imps. Thought of that damn plague was makin' him pissed again.

Kazaar sneered t'himself as he poured o'drink, downed it, then poured one f'De'Ville and another for himself. Handed th'strong liquor t'De'Ville an' plopped down inna chair, cigar smoke comin' outta his mouth.

An' yet there was still somethin' buggin' him.

"How'd ya get hooked up with th'Mandys?"

She'd pulled a zip up sweatshirt on as they'd passed 'her' room, but hadn't zipped it. "How did you?" De'Ville swirled the amber liquid in her glass, then drank it down, helping herself to more before joining Aurelias in sitting down.

She shrugged, already feeling a bit of a warm glow from the liquor. "Maybe I was born into it."

"That o'fact." Kazaar smirked. Kinda surprised he seemed t'caught De'Ville off guard on the Mandy question. Wasn't like she hadn't frackin' spoken Mando'a durin' their battle in the hospital.

"If ya that damn good ovva fight (and ya sure as shit are) how come ya ain't hooked up with Death Watch or th'Mandalorian Protectors? Sure those guys could use ya." Drained 'is glass and grabbed o'beer.

"Ain't sayin' ya ain't welcome here, but I figure ya didn't join th'Rebels to frackin' run 'round on planets blowin' up plague carriers or hangin' 'round my ship in shorts anna jacket."

Held up the bourbon bottle. "Want 'nother?"

She considered it for a moment, then finished her glass and held it out. He refilled it, and De'Ville leaned back in her seat. "Are you like the Mando'ade police? Gonna turn me in? Rogue clan member with mysterious past..."

De'Ville sipped her drink, finding that it was stronger than she'd figured and she better not drink anymore. "Sounds like we have a lot in common."

She set her glass down lightly, zipping up her sweatshirt and tucking her long bare legs up underneath her.

"Funny how that kinda turns out." Kazaar admitted.

Beer felt good goin' down. Hell, might even get rip-roarin' drunk. Been o'while since that'd happened. Successful mission, buncha Imps killed...why th'frack shouldn't get get all tore up. Could be fun.

"Hell, my dad got kicked outta Death Watch." Kazaar smirked. "'Parently he had an issue with torture. Figure those frackers be happy with o'guy who'd go down an' dirty, but since he only wanted t'torture rapists an' slavers...

"Ya believe he became o'Force-damned archeologist anna protestor...funny what life throws ya."

De'Ville raised an eyebrow and shook her head. "Seems a drastic career change."

She picked up her glass again, and sipped the alcohol slowly. Of course, it was already too late for attempting moderation. You don't drink, she scolded herself, and then told herself to shut up. Lilaena drained the glass for the third time, holding the empty in her lap between both hands.

"I didn't care what you did to that man," she said abruptly. "You were right, he deserved it." And more. "Jus' caught me by surprise." She reached up, scratching her back over her shoulder.

She looked sideways at him, a glimmer of something dark in her green eyes. "Felt real good, didn't it."

Kazaar chuckled. Same guttural, speeder with o'bad motivator laugh. "Yeh, did. Wouldn't o'done it if it wasn't fun. Fracker deserved it. Hell, sent o'fracking message to th'Empire. 'Least one o'the Rebels ain't frackin' 'round with that diplomacy bullshit.

"All for protectin' the innocent. Hell, why I took m'time with that bastard, whoever th'frack he was." Drained his beer an' switched back to the bourbon. Refilled De'Ville's glass too.

"If I'd ever gotta hold o'Vader, Tarkin, Palpatine...those bastards woulda been 'live for days while I cut 'em up. Woulda let 'em feel where I was comin'."

Took another drink. "Prob'ly the only thing I wouldn't've done was skull-frack 'em. That's how frackin' thorough I woulda been.

"How 'bout you? Ya ever take ya time with someone?"

She shook her head slowly, a strange sensation making her face feel a little numb and her limbs tingly. "I was taught to make efficient kills. Waste no time."

De'Ville paused, swallowing more bourbon before continuing. "I would have torn Palpatine apart with my bare hands." Her voice was quiet, her eyes flat and cold... and then she blinked, focusing on Kazaar's face. "Somebody beat me to it, o' course. Now... there's only one person I would torture. An' o' course they're dead too."

She shifted in her seat, scratching at her back again. "She taught me control, but lacked it herself. Dunno why I never realized it before."

"Funny what we learn eh?" Kazaar took o'long draw on his cigar an' let the smoke waft out. Mixed with th'booze it tasted pretty frackin' good.

"Ever think 'bout just lettin' loose? Or ya think she tried t'teach ya control 'cause she lacked it?"

"She was a crazy bitch," she said slowly, as though she was trying out the words for the first time. "I have no idea why she did what she did."

Lilaena looked down and found her glass empty again. She set it aside a little unsteadily. "I was jus' a child when she gave me my scars. Well, th' Empire redid them f'me recently. But I used to... to thank her for correcting me."

Another woman might have cried, talking about things she'd never allowed herself to think about for too long. De'Ville just sat and stared at her empty glass, eyes hooded and smoldering with anger.

Kazaar's black eyes flashed in his own anger. Frackin' Imps. Fracking psycho dames. "The hell she'd try t'correct ya for? What ya decide t'not kill a buncha people who didn't deserve it."

He shook 'is head an' filled both their glasses. "Never understood bastards who preyed on innocents. Sorry ya didn't kill that bitch...ya get the Imps who tortured you?"