A Detour and Descent (Lilaena De'Ville)

This shining city built of gold, a far cry from innocence,
There's more than meets the eye round here, look to the waters of the deep.
A city of evil.
There sat a seven-headed beast, ten horns raised from his head.
Symbolic woman sits on his throne, but hatred strips her and leaves her naked.
The Beast and the Harlot.

She's a dwelling place for demons.
She's a cage for every unclean spirit,
every filthy bird and makes us drink the poisoned wine to fornicating with our kings.
Fallen now is Babylon the Great.

The city dressed in jewels and gold, fine linen, myrrh and pearls.
Her plagues will come all at once as her mourners watch her burn.
Destroyed in an hour.
Merchants and captains of the world, sailors, navigators too.
Will weep and morn this loss with her sins piled to the sky,
The Beast and the Harlot.

She's a dwelling place for demons.
She's a cage for every unclean spirit,
every filthy bird and makes us drink the poisoned wine to fornicating with our kings.
Fallen now is Babylon the Great.

The day has come for all us sinners.
If you're not a servant, you'll be struck to the ground.
Flee the burning, greedy city.
Lookin' back on her to see there's nothing around.

I don't believe in fairytales and no one wants to go to hell.
We've made the wrong decision and it's easy to see.
Now if you wanna serve above or be a king below with us,
You're welcome to the city where your future is set forever.

She's a dwelling place for demons.
She's a cage for every unclean spirit,
every filthy bird and makes us drink the poisoned wine to fornicating with our kings.
Fallen now is Babylon the Great.

- "Beast and the Harlot" - Avenged Sevenfold

=======

The eyelids to his porcelain like face opened slowly as the inertial compensators were relieved and the planet's natural gravity was allowed to pervade the shuttle.

"Welcome to Onderon, we here at Universal Travels would like to thank you all for your patronage and hope you fly Universal again. Gate agents are awaiting outside to assist those passengers needing to make connecting departures. For those passengers continuing on Shuttle 489-1, we'd like to point out the bars and food court available within the docking complex. The shuttle needs to be refueled and prepped for our next departure and it could take several hours. Shuttle 489-1 will depart no later than 23:00 standard Onderon time. Again, thanks for flying Universal."

The affected voice of the attendant cut out, much to Grime's relief, and passengers began to exit the vessel. Many had already been standing and retrieving their luggage by the time he had awoken. He was in no such rush.

Hawkins was one of the few who were remaining passengers, taking the same shuttle out, into the Tapes sector. He figured his swordsmanship, even as rusty as it was could earn him a desirable amount of credits. And the Core area had begun to stink. Hawkins had picked up on a Hutt agent too near to his position for comfort and then something about the Black Sun and Hutt interests coinciding. The rumor mill just churned out too many bad calls for Hawkins to believe himself secure. He'd made a small profit in security jobs for mercs on Coruscant, still unsure of his physical limitations and capabilities. He feared that he would never get use to this metal cage he was trapped in.

The black armor encased his body entirely, all but from the base of the jaw and up. It appeared like sleek combat armor, molded to his body frame. Most who took note of it would think it so tight it was uncomfortable. In a way, Grime acknowledged them for being ironically correct. A black cape draped over his shoulders and a wide brimmed hat rested in his lap. His face was marble white, a synthetic recreation of what his organic face might've looked like at that point. And the dark, brown hair that went to his shoulders was no more real than anything else that could be seen.

In truth, what everyone else saw was Grime's exoskeleton. A mechanical frame that allowed his frail and scarred body to operate on a normal level in every day life. Of course, his perception of every day life could never be simple. A fallen lieutenant from the ranks of Guula the Hutt, his plot to coup the slug had almost come to fruition only for it all to end in sheer catastrophe. The consequences for treason were torture and then execution. He had been tortured but had survived the execution through only physical means. His body had barely survived while everything he owned, most of his men, and even his name had been liquidated.

Like some phoenix out of legend, Grime had it in mind to rise from the ashes though and conquer death. He stood stiffly from his seat by the window, a look of disgust barely apparent on his mechanical face. As he made his way past the exit dock, a flight attendant handed him his sword, a finely curved rapier that magnetically holstered itself to his back. He needed to get some air, being stuck in one confined place for too long only increased his irritation.

=======

Hawkins knocked back the rest of his drink and then dropped the container into the composer. It did little to appease him, the ever consuming void of hatred and bitterness were too engraved in him to even notice any sensations that might distract him from that void. Looking around briefly as he stood outside in a food court, he noticed the gates and watch towers everywhere.

Onderon supposedly had some good business available as well. Those mandalorians were supposedly quite the problem in this area. Dren, they'd been the scourge of the galaxy only a few millinea or so ago. Even after their time had come and gone, who wouldn't expect them to still be a problem. But Tapes was supposedly where swordsman could make their money in honor duels and arena matches.

But for now he wanted privacy, at least as much as he could manage. He made his way to the nearest bar and headed for the back and his own booth. A waitress made it half way to the booth before Grime gave her an obscene gesture with one hand and told her he was fine for the moment. He restlessly tapped on the glass table top, taking his hat off with the other hand and idly tossing it over the table and into the seat across from him. Restlessness was another annoying sensation he had to deal with. He blamed his exoskeleton for that, and he blamed them for that.

She was enjoying a cup of stimcaf in one of the bars in the small Iziz spaceport. Lilaena sipped slowly, and grimaced. Enjoying wasn't really the word she was looking for. Tolerating, perhaps.

A waitress passed her, clearly disgruntled, and Lilaena followed her path backwards with her eyes until she saw the man sitting in a booth, tossing his hat on the table in front of him. He was not in a good mood - though with the caf they served here, no one would blame him.

She sipped silently, watching him.

Hawkins leaned his head against the back of the booth, resting for a moment, his fingers flexing and relaxing in constant motion beneath the table. His chronometer four minutes ago had said it was 18:00. That meant he had four hours and fifty six minutes and counting until he was off this rock. And in that time, he concluded that he would be most miserable.

"Excuse me, sir."

This was no small prim waitress voice that he had previously dismissed. No, the voice belonged to a gruff sounding Sullustan. Gruff sounding, Grime thought. He found the Sullustans as a race rather sad looking and one of many races that got the short end of the stick when it really came to any advantages at life. Not to mention he was short. All of this compiling to a very unintimidating figure with a seemingly intimidating voice.

Grime sat up as casual as a slightly unfamiliar exoskeleton could in such a position. His bloodshot eyes glaring at the thing before him.

"... Can I help you?"

"Well, Sir, seeing how you told my server off and aren't interested in ordering anything, I can't have folk loitering around. So, either you order something or I'll have to ask you to leave."

Hawkins determined now that the voice was not as intimidating as he had discerned at first. The Sullustan's basic was just bad enough to come off like a neaderthal that had made it through grade school, that was all. He wished the deformed beast would just speak its own dirty language and spare Grime the butchery it made of basic.

"Gimme' a side of 'Get lost, twerp.' I'll buy something when I'm ready."

The Sullustan was a bit taken aback by Hawkins' comment but didn't seem to waver under it. Before it could respond though, Hawkins held up a hand to keep it from going any further.

"Just bring me some water."

Fuming, but appeased for the moment, the Sullustan stormed off and the waitress with him. It had caused a scene to a small degree and Hawkins had an unwanted audience. He glared across the room, watching heads and eyes turning back to their own business. All but one. Some lady. Hawkins turned his attention away but couldn't seem to notice that she was still more or less watching him.

=======

This was not Flora's night. Her first time on the job and she had already had to deal with a square customer. And get the manager involved to boot. This was, like, the worst way to start off. The manager had blamed her at first, thinking she had offended the customer in ignorance or just bad business. But after that little scene, he was so totally apologizing for that. But he was still gonna server the loser?

The Sullustan handed her a glass of iced water and walked back into the manager's office. Flora walked a few steps away, spit in the drink and then mixed the water around a bit. See if she was gonna take that much lip on her first night from some pretty boy. She stepped out into the cafe and headed towards the punk's table. She almost panicked as she realized he wasn't even sitting there anymore.

=======

Hawkins, hat in hand, approached the table where the woman was sitting. He raised his opposite hand in a way of greeting and to get her attention, which he was frustratingly sure he already had.

"Do I know you?"

Not the best pick up line he had ever used, but then again he was not really aiming for that. Guula, like the rest of the slugs, had people who slept in the cracks that people like Grime slipped through. With so many other witnesses, this would be a fairly secure place to confront a would-be assassin. The increasingly irritating notion was that he was just making monsters out of shadows. Why not play it safe though? His luck couldn't get any worse than it already had.

She eyed him over her cup of caf, and took another sip. "No, I don't think you do." LIlaena looked around the room, and saw the flustered waitress holding a glass of water. "Lonely at your table?"

He seemed artificial, but was certainly not a droid. An exoskeleton of some kind was supporting artifical skin. Better work could be had, if you had the credits. He, apparently, preferred the exoskeleton. Or was poor. Lilaena rubbed her forehead with her left hand, fingers feeling the scar that ran vertically across her face.

Hawkins stiffly followed her gaze back to his table and noted the waitress, wasting time by his deserted table with a glass of water. He sighed with a trace of disgust and exasperation when she spotted him and started in his direction.

"Here you go."

She placed the drink down at the woman's table, assuming that Grime was going already going to sit there. One of his eyebrows arched in question towards the already departed waitress before he turned back to the woman he obviously didn't know. He deciphered the drink on the table as an unwarranted invitation and took a seat across from her. His once blue eyes, now dulled through a haze of bloodshot awareness, glanced over her for a moment.

=======

"Censored, I'm your number one girl, right?"

"Only because of your eyes, Lady."

Soft laughter was heard in response.

"My eyes? What about them?"

"I've never seen eyes so green. They make up for all your other faults, so be thankful."

Censored snickered at his own joke. But she was already asleep.

=======

"This planet seems about as lonely... Where'd you come by a scar like that?"

She sipped her caf, then put it down slowly, looking at him with her green eyes. He looked like he'd been through hell.

"Where'd you come by that frame you're wearing?" She raised an eyebrow.

His fingers dug into the brim of his hat slightly beneath the table as she asked the question. He wanted to snarl a response that he had asked first but he checked himself, albeit slowly. His other hand raised to touch the left side of his artificial face almost unconciously. She made it sound like he was just wearing a suit, something he could take off at will or leisure. Not the wretched prison that it really was, his own face a taunting reminder of just how close to the sun he had been and just how badly it had burned him.

=======

Blood dripped freely as Censored gasped for air, anything to keep himself from sliding into shock and out of his own control. He almost coughed up blood to laugh at that ironic thought. Control. He was in control of nothing. Absolutely nothing. But for passing out.
They wanted him out so they could really get to work. He knew the procedure, the victim passes out, they carve off large slabs of skin, nail it to the wall in front of the victim, and then wake them up with high caliber stimulants. He refused to pass out though. They'd already gone through portions of his arm. The muscles twitched freely in response to nearly incomprehensible pain.
One of the 'surgeons' turned to the other and spoke casually.

"Let's not do the routine thing, this time, Dyllan. Let's photocopy murals or something on the 'canvas'."

The other snorted in response, muttering something in some dirty language Censored couldn't understand.

"That's a great idea, Dyllan. We'll put up the pictures of what we did to his woman. He surely die comfortable knowing how well she went out. That was some party-"

Censored couldn't understand the next part as it was hard to hear over his own screams as the surgeons went back to work.

=======

Nevermind checking himself, he was tired and it was like this woman was a perfect target to show just how much Grime was willing to throw at the universe. Especially if she was one of Guula's agents. That devouring abyss within him felt as if it was reaching from its depths to draw him in. In fact, it was screaming like a wicked gale in the back of his mind. He hadn't noticed until he had decided to focus it on her.

"I asked you first, wastoid."

So it was going to be like that, was it? The depths of anger she'd aroused in the stranger were impressive. Her eyes narrowed, "A bounty hunter did this. He failed to take me down."

She shrugged, "And I don't really care where you got the suit. You are, however, sitting at my table." It had occurred to her that this stranger might also be a bounty hunter, and she didn't really want to be nice to him if that were the case. Goading him was fun, anyway. "Although, you should talk to your tailor. You look like dren."

He grabbed his glass, trying to hold back the fist he wanted to make so badly. Images of his metal encased fist colliding with her face flashed through his mind, screaming that she should tell her doctor to forget covering the scar up, she had more immediate issues to handle like no teeth and shattered nose. Who would look more like dren then? The glass creaked on the edge of breaking in his grip before he relaxed somewhat.
Failed to take her down... How likely was that? But then again, women were often the most underestimated assets in the business. He refused to drop his guard to their bickering. She might just be looking for the chink in his armor. The issue concerning her identity and his ignorance therein wasn't helping at all.

"You're one to talk. Did the doctor tell you there was nothing they could do about your face even after he noted the scar?"

That was a lie and he had to try to even play the insult out right.

=======

"... eyes so green..."

She tsked. "So angry."

Lilaena picked up her cup once more, sipping carefully. "The pie is good here, you should try some."

"I don't want pie."

His paranoia about this woman was about to hit critical mass. She wasn't being courteous, she was just trying to shift topics and his attention to keep him from focusing.

"Quit playing games, woman. Who are you?"

He was sure his artificial face was not showing anything of the wrath he intended to display but Grimes meant to embed his tone with as much hatred and frustration as he could. He would not be toyed with, even if she were not one of Guula's agents.

She blinked, but not because of his angry words. Like a picture with a hidden message that had suddenly snapped into focus, she knew. This angry individual was a Force adept. Completely untrained, it seemed, but with potential.

Lilaena sipped her caf. "I am the answer to your prayers."

The glass shattered in his exoskeleton's grip. Not being able to feel it only made it worse, providing no catharsis from the pain, only increasing his desire to see something destroyed. Water dripped off the black armor of his arm as he rested the now empty hand on the table.

"Which ones are you going to answer?"

His question was said with no lighter tone than before and he was sure that his curiousity was only to see how long he let her live. He was confident that his reflexes were just as much as they used to be and he could practically see the gaping wound he would make with his blade on her face to match that scar. All she had to do was drop Guula's name.

"Your prayers for revenge," she answered, calmly. With a twitch of her fingers the shattered pieces of glass were picked up and set into the middle of the table with the Force. No one else in the cafe had seen, only him, and she had his full attention.

His bloodshot eyes went slowly from the glass shards to her face.

=======

"How are you doing this?"

Three men stood between the holographic image of Censored and the Wanted Jedi Knight X'aafel. All three stood stone still, weapons all poised to brutally slay the adept where he stood. But they couldn't move, at all.

"I'm stopping them from making a big mistake. I will not support your crimes, even if you have helped hide me from the Empire."

Censored took a swag from his flask before putting it back in his pocket, wiping his mouth with his wrist and casually continuing the conversation.

"So I'm not big on the whole force thing, but I know you can read minds so I shouldn't have to explain myself. But seeing how this has turned sour, let me go ahead and do so. Your payment has been sufficient in turn for your protection. But now, I no longer need your credits X'aafel. I need your skills. Don't turn me down a second time."

The self righteous knight, like they all were, only gave Censored that serene look of compliance with everything in the universe but what the real people with power wanted. This is why they were going extinct. They weren't flexible. Censored sighed.

"Should I take this waste of time hesitation dren as a refusal then?"

"I assure you, Master Censored, you don't need me."

"So be it. Your contract of protection is hereby ended. Let me save you the trouble of letting the Empire be the first to sign your execution contract."

The hologram image of Censored cut out and the remotely triggered explosives on one of the henchman set off much to all of their dismay.

=======

Grime was currently rethinking his strategy. This woman was no joke and the only force adept he'd had contact with, he'd stabbed in the back with as little as contact as possible. The whole thing had seemed hokey and Hawkins had never had the time to pay attention to all the politics involved with the mess. His desire to wreak havoc at the immediate moment was no less appeased though, merely in check due to unestimable restrictions.

"Explain, Witch."

She reached across the table towards him, slowly, but stopped at the pile of glass and idly picked up a shard. "You have much anger inside you, and you burn for revenge. Against what, I don't know. But the vengence you seek is within your grasp because you," she looked straight into his reddened eyes, "have the same gift I do."

"I assure you, Master Censored, you don't need me."

=======

His hand shot out and wrapped around her fingers, the sound of the glass shard against his metal hand could be heard. His words stuttered through a mind clouded by imprisoned rage.

"A lot...of good... heh... that did me..."

If it felt any better to crush her hand and break her arm, he'd do it. Could she read minds through his metal face? Could even metal stop those kind of powers. His kind of powers? If she was even telling the truth.

"Why should I believe you?"

Her expression was steady, even as he squeezed her hand and cut her fingers on the shard of glass she was holding. Blood dripped onto the plastic tabletop from between their hands.

"Because it is true." Lilaena made no move to extricate her hand from his grip, regarding him as a frightened predator that would just as soon flee as attack. "Search your feelings. How else could you have survived, when lesser beings would have simply given up." She had no idea how he had come to live in his artifical exoskeleton - they were only used with the most traumatized of bodies in the most extreme situations. Most lesser injuries could be treated with artifical limbs, or transplants.

He let go, just as quick as he had reached for her. He had never seen anyone survive such a torture session as he had undergone. Never. He'd done far less to someone and they'd been out long before he considered himself finished. He felt like she had just thrown him off balance. In his seat, he felt as if he couldn't stand or walk; the pain and irritation from his body and the exoskeleton nagging at him.

"So what then? I have IT. Didn't they kidnap kids to train them from their youth? Does it even matter by this point? What can you do for me?"

Exactly how was she going to answer his prayers?

Lilaena pulled her hand back to her side of the table as he released her, taking her eyes from his artificial face to examine the cut on her fingers. She dropped the bloodied shard of glass to the tabletop.

"Yes, they took babies from their families, so that they could be trained from the youngest possible age." There was a tinge of pride in her voice. She had been one such child, blessed with the training and shelter of the Jedi Temple, long ago. "But in these dark days, we work with what we have."

The Dark Jedi looked back at the man, who looked like a man trapped in a droid's body. "And we have you, and me. I can train you to use your gift."

Work with what we have? As if Grime was just the leftovers, a used piece of merchandise. All of his life prior to this meant nothing in the face of such a power. How humilitating. How infuriating.

"And I have what that you want in turn for such training?"

Nothing, absolutely nothing was free. Everything had its cost, from two credits for public transportation, to torture for treason.

She chuckled, a low, sexy laugh. "I help you to get your revenge. And you help me to get mine."

He liked that laugh. He liked the idea. Finally, the stone had been cast that felt like the current of his fortune was changing once more.

"I'm Hawkins Grime. Where do we begin?"

Grime had everything he needed on him. And as far as the witch went, he wasn't sure if he wanted to run her through or kiss her for all she had caused him in the last few moments.

"Lilaena De'Ville." The name might mean something to him, if he had any background in the bounty hunting business. "I would shake your hand, but I think we already did." The cut across two of her fingers was still oozing a bit of blood.

She tossed a few credits on the table to pay for her caf, and the broken glass. "We begin as soon as you find a place to stay, Hawkins." Lilaena was already getting to her feet.

"Yeah, so there's this witch ou'there called Lil' Devil or somethin' like tha'."

"You don't say?"

"Hey! Are yah even listening tah meh?! The Empire pays a bloody fortune for this babe. Look a'this picture!"

"Tasty."

"What?! How can yah even tell through the blurr'image?"

"Practice."

"She's a loose canon! Extremely dangerous-"

"Aren't we all? Lemme' see that. Guula's fat lip, thats quite a bit of a take for bringing her in alive, wouldn't you say, Mundo?"

"Yeah, but dead sounds tha' much safah then don' yah think, Master Censored?"

"Hey, if it brings in the income, why not? Go for it, take some of the boys. What's one lady against a gaggle of you?"

"Yah got somethin' there, Boss."

And that was the last time Mundo and a group of six were ever seen in those parts. Maybe they were still looking for her. Maybe not.

=======

It wasn't hard to hide his reaction behind his metal face. He waited until she was on her feet before he stood, grabbing his hat. He felt the urge to stretch, but like before, he was well aware it would do him no good, possibly make it worse.

"I contact you how once I've done that?"

She shook her head, "I'll find you." His posture seemed to convey his doubt, and Lilaena added, "It might be a big city, but it isn't that big."

The man pulled his hat on, its wide brim neatly concealing most of his face. She idly wondered if the mask had been made to mirror his original face. A shred of pity threatened to burrow upwards out of her belly, but she refused to allow it to expand. He would sense it, and resent her for it.

She did not need his resentment: she would have his respect and loyalty. And she did not have either, yet.

"The south quarter of the City is affordable, and the Royal Guard doesn't pay much attention to it." They were walking out into the spaceport proper. It was where she had settled - the poor district of Iziz. It was dirty, and riddled with crime. But as she'd said, the Guardsmen usually gave it a wide berth. Every city had a neighborhood like it, no matter how utopian. Better still, Salem Ave was never seen there, and that was the way she liked it.

Force adepts were by nature power hungry individuals, from her experience at least. However, her dead Master, A'na Eldhil, had instructed her in the art of being poor. Lilaena owned no space ship, and drew no attention to herself. It was how she had stayed alive so long.

"Until next time then."

Dren, if she was going to cover the costs, so be it. And as long as he didn't have to go out of his way to find her after he bothered with the trouble of acquiring some real estate around here. In fact, his task sounded quite easy. He'd been there before, on the streets, nothing to his name. But he hadn't been nearly as angry and frustrated as Grime was now. In his rage, he felt like someone entirely different, if not less than anything human anyone had ever managed to view him as. He would go about his method of survival much different than before.

Of course he was skeptical of her but this place was dying for extra firepower. The merc business was in demand and he could play that card if this ended up being nothing more than a fancy. As he walked out of the bar, his fist clenched and the muscles in his face twitched irritably, unseen by any onlooker. If she was setting him up, he'd... even if she was an adept, he'd kill her. And out of spite for the whole universe, not even turn in her mutilated corpse for the bounty.

=======

Several hours later

The door burst open, slamming against the wall and rebounding but stopped by the hand of the figure crossing the threshold. Shuffling could be heard upstairs but Grime paid little heed to it. He knew who it was and they weren't important.

The house he had managed to find wasn't much of anything. It was a hole in the wall, well, a building that had been built in an alley way between two other buildings. It was four stories tall and too skinny but it was out of the way and it had taken Hawkins three times to pass it before he even noticed it. And then forever after that to find someone who could give him information on it. The place seemed rundown and it was now that he got a look inside. They had said the inhabitant rarely came out, only at night in the darkest of dark times. The few people who knew anything about it's owner said half the time, they almost thought him gone or dead until they caught a glimpse of him skulking about here or there. It was perfect.

Hawkins checked the area, no real security system was apparent and all the locks he had broken on the door seemed to be what the resident owner had thought secure. The shuffling had stopped but Grime took his time walking up the stairs. Trying to be quiet was pointless, the exoskeleton was heavy and it clunked against the steel stairs. This whole affair had seemed easy, like so many small things in his now painstakingly slow existence and proved to infuriate him at every corner he turned, faced with actions that seemed to be reached amidst an ocean of cryogoop.

"Who!? Who's there?!"

The voice sounded like it had never had a drink of hydro in its life. Grime stepped onto the fourth floor finally, the voice screeched from down the hallway to the only door available, barely cracked open and leading to a room that had no light that Grime's eyes could detect.

"Don't... don't come near me!? Leave... Just leave me... alone...! I have nothing of value."

Grime's hand went to his sword, his metallic grip slipped onto the hilt and he waited until the magnetic lock kicked in and the sword was secured to his hand. He pushed the door opened, silohuetted by the dim light behind him in the hallway. He had to squint to make out the room beyond him.

"No, what can you possibly want?! What?! I'm just... just..."

If Grime could make a face of disgust, he would have as he discovered the source of the raspy voice. A body wrapped in shrouds but unable to cover everything due to pussing wounds. Burns covered what was visible and in the dim light the pink flesh appeared gray. It made him nauseous, actually. Was this thing anything in comparison to what he was beneath his metal skin? His body crawled, everything seemed to itch, and his eyes felt like they needed to be burned from his skull. This thing only reminded Grime of all his flaws since his fall from grace. Every inch of his own frailty arose in the sight of this thing.

"Dead."

=======

Again, several hours later

He awoke from a rotten daze, sleep was a rarity. And lying down only left him dizzier when he awoke. He was in the room, some kind of broken office, on the third floor. And blood was still dripping through a few holes in the floor, most of it had coagulated around the ceiling. He didn't want to go near that floor right now, ever. He didn't even know how long he had been out, if it had been long enough even. Where was the witch? How long was he supposed to wait? He wanted to be irritated with her but he felt spent for some reason, as if he had burned all of his built up hatred and rage on that thing's death.

She quietly opened the door on the ground floor, looking around. She'd sensed Hawkins' presence within, but it was hard to pinpoint exactly where. The building was a good size, with four stories, and although it was completely trashed with a little work it would be a good place to stay.

But, working around the house didn't seem to be Hawkins Grime's cup of tea. Then again, she'd only just met the man. The place smelled like death. Lilaena made her way to the third floor, and found the man on the ground. Blood was dripping down from the ceiling near him. She regarded him silently for a moment.

He sat up, his body appearing rigid and giving the image of some undead abomination rising from the grave as he stood, scattering the books he had used for a head rest. He sighed impatiently as he moved strands of his hair out of his face.

"Let's get started then."

He didn't want to know how she had found him. That she might've been watching him the entire only began to reawaken his irritation. And that she might have no life to do as much made it worse to contemplate. He'd completed his task, his posture demanded results.

She regarded him in silence for another too-long moment, much to his obvious irritation. "Your anger is great, Hawkins, and this is a good thing."

Lilaena pointed to a sturdy looking bookcase that was against the far wall. She was curious to see what influence he could exert over the Force in such a raw, untrained state. "Focus your anger on the bookcase." Her lips turned upwards in a wry smile, "Pretend it is your most hated enemy. And picture it destroyed in your mind until it is destroyed."

"... Pretend?!"

And she was smiling. Like this was some kind of game. Was she trying to make fun of him? If he could just concentrate on something and destroy it, Grime would have been. This whole universe would have collapsed by now. He grit his teeth against each other as his vision shook with unbridled anger. Waking up to the face of sheer stupidity and nonsense was not what he in mind when he had thought of training. Something... transcendental? Leave it to life to make it something so... stupid. He could hear his raspy breathing inside his head; his vision shook behind his doll face. Aggravation towards life in general manifested itself as an incredibly itchy sensation against the flesh beneath his exoskeleton, as if maggots riddled his body.

"Don't play games with me!"

The room filled with the scent of burnt electronics. The databooks and files popped and hissed as their temperature rose slightly. A haze from the air being heated around Grime appeared slowly. One metal hand raised towards Lilaena, the endless abyss of anger and rage screamed her name blindly, she would feel his pain, she would know the intolerance his body demanded of everything else, she would know!

Or pretend that I am your most hated enemy. In the end, it didn't matter if he turned the potential inside him against the bookcase or against her. Lilaena raised her hand to mirror his, using the Force to create a wave of telekinetic energy around her that expanded outward like the ripples from a stone in a pond.

The heat he'd created was not affected by the wave, but his body was flung backwards against the wall, and the heat began to disapate. "You seem to have a natural talent for dealing with energy, Hawkins."

He slowly picked himself up, his eyes wide open with indignant fury. Through clenched teeth, his artificial lips peeled back he spoke.

"And what does that mean? Did... whatever just happen backfire on me?! Or did you do that?"

Despair clenched the heart of the void, ice that was so cold it burned like hell fire through the waves of hatred and anger. Was she still just toying with him? Being blown like that, was it a sign of complete failure and she was just throwing it in his face? Why couldn't she just say what she meant?! His body crawled again beneath the exoskeleton with paranoia and frustration as he stood once again.

"I did it." She met his fury with cold eyes, and slowly turned her attention back to the bookcase. "And I'll do it again, unless you destroy that bookcase. Attempt to attack me again, and I shall do worse than knock you on your backside."

Grime's bloodshot eyes slowly went from her small frame to the bookshelf to his side. He supposed she had finally decided to quit playing games and actually put things in a language he understood. His anger didn't subside with any comfort from the thought, the threat was imminent and he wasn't about to test a force adept to their word when his frail disposition was the bargain chip.

This was so dumb. Destroy a bookcase. The galaxy shivered at such a thing as the Force and Grime was wasting it on a bookcase. The front of his head hurt, like it was going to explode, like he had plastic explosives stuffed inside his sinuses and forehead. If one could feel an oncoming anurism, this was as close as he could imagine it feeling. His fists clenched and his skin crawled with hallucinated maggots and worms, breaking through the scarred flesh and fusing with the metal of his exoskeleton. Nothing, absolutely nothing would ever bring comfort, he was cursed and condemned and even a simple bookcase stood in a better state than he did, lifeless and insignificant.

The air seemed thick with friction, the room became stuffy and heated again. The feeling in Grime's stomach churned and the despair moved the gears within himself like a cold urge to destroy anything that might be in a better position than him.

Moments passed as his turmoil overwhelmed his concentration and he struggled to suppress memories of pain and devouring grief. How pathetic had he become? What had he been reduced to? And by what?

Vengeance. Pure, unadulterated, unbridled hatred and vengeance.

Metal encased hand outstretched, Grime felt like his brain was being flushed down a tube centimeter in radius lubed in sandpaper.

Small hairs of released static electricity connected along the plates of his exoskeleton as the heat became exhausting within his immediate vicinity. His eyes winced and struggled to stay open as he battled with this uncontrollable wave of destruction within his own mental prison, trying to direct it towards what felt like the biggest let down in targets of his life, the bookcase.

The telekinetic force that followed ripped through the air to his eyes. The bookcase in turn only budged but a few spaces. Hawkins' anger exploded into movement as he stepped towards the piece of furniture, pulling back his fist to get the proper momentum. She had not specified the manner in which he should destroy said bookcase.

His fist came down, the metal colliding with the black material that it was made of. Grime's fist held such momentum, augmented by his anger, that it burned its way into the structure and nearly split it in half. While some might think the exoskeleton would prevent Hawkins from feeling such an action, his weakened body beneath felt the impact tenfold and screamed in reactionary pain as consequence.

He pounded the bookcase into submission, and when he was done she could feel the anger and pain rolling off him. As she had been taught by her master, A'na Eldhil, she would teach this one - to use those emotions for good purpose.

Can I do it? Doubt squirmed around in the back of her mind, but Lilaena put those thoughts out of her head. "As your anger built, I could feel you touching the Force. In time you will learn to do so willingly, rather than subconsciously."

He cradled his arm in his opposite hand's grasp; the artificial face didn't do much for displaying the contorted muscles of pain and the gritted teeth. Brief flashes of his flesh ridden hand closing about her throat and despite its weakness, attempted to crush her trachea. He could almost feel it. How much time did a creature of his disposition really have? Was anything of this caliber, requiring so much really the most efficient way of achieving his goals? Looking up from his twitching fingers, his eyes met her emerald irises.

"That doesn't help me now though... what else can I accomplish now? In time 's later's business."