Lucid. Livid. Looming.

Jirettai stood over her body, no smile on his face as was his normal custom. No madness to his eyes and anger burning in his heart. This had hurt him. It had been necessary, of course, but it had hurt. He had to rid of himself of all past attachments. Of anything he may have once loved. The drip of crimson from his finger tips echoed over the sound of crackling and fizzling electronics.

No sound came from Tragoni, the AI who's voice he had silenced within the penthouse. Somewhere below he was certain alarms were blaring, footfalls in the hallway up the stairs. He'd already seen to the lift to keep anyone from getting there quickly enough. He bent, fingertips, slick with blood still closing the perfectly made up eyelids of the once beautiful Cizerack that lay at his feet.

"Sorry, Ms. Sasseeri. But the time has come for me to put away childish things." Somewhere in the distance someone screamed.

Mike sat bolt upright in bed, a pool of sweat drenching his sheets as his own screams woke him up. That frelling dream again. That absolute nightmare. He couldn't do that, he wouldn't. It wasn't going to happen, it wasn't. He grabbed for a pack of deathsticks nearby, hands shaking as he pulled one out to light. He hated the habit. Hated the taste, hated the smell, but these nightmares had become more frequent and they were the only thing that calmed his nerves when they woke him up. He couldn't afford to take the edge off with alcohol. He still had work later.

He checked his chrono. Frell was it only 1? He didn't need to be up for another 4 or 5 hours. He got up and walked to the refresher, running the sonics to clean himself up. He hated that dream. Hated it. It had started a few months ago after meeting the former Sith Order operative Zereth Lancer again after so many years. Lancer had changed himself in the time since that Order had destroyed his group of friends, and left Cline aware of how much blood was still on his hands in the process.

The interaction had brought him face to face with how mindlessly angry he could be, how much it'd taken to listen to the man instead of killing him. Mike had never finished his training and it seemed the stronger he got with the Force, with the darkside, the more he lost his hold on it and found himself consumed by it.

He finished the deathstick and dropped it in the lavatory, flushing it away as he headed back to bed. Could have been worse. Could have been the other dream.

Morning came too soon and he was out the door for another day doing what he loved for the company that had taken him in when he had nothing. He approached the Cumulus Casino noticing an event happening out front, and what seemed to be Imperial Officers closing off the sidewalk. No big deal, Mike would just go around. He darted into a side alley and found himself face to face with blonde hair, a square jaw and a no-nonsense frown.

"Michael Cline?" The Imperial Knight, Captain Empire and the epitome of the Empire's propoganda asked him. Mike blanched. "...Yeah?" The Knight took a step forward. "Could you come with me please, we have some questions about former associates of yours... and about you, yourself." Cline took a step back. "What questions, I really gotta get into work..." A figure blocked the alley the other way and Cline turned to see a large Selonian tower overhead. The blonde talked again. "About why you never registered... and the whereabouts of the rest of your fellow adepts." Cline's vision shot back at Captain Empire, wide and fearful. "No. NO. NO!" He insisted, force wrapping into the muscles of his legs as he bent then jumped, vertically to the roof of the first story building beside them. "We are 100% not doing this!" He snapped, running from the alley. He'd get to Sasseeri. She'd know what to do she'd... a pair of figures stepped out ahead of him, a red Twi'lek and a Nehantite, flanked by several troops each. He skidded to a halt and turned back to the other direction. Poster boy was already there, stalking forward. To the adjoining rooftop? A large paw came over the side between them to block that direction to.

"Michael Cline. Known force adept. Associate of Darth Sudoku. You are under arrest under Imperial Adept Doctrine 1b, subsection..."
A siren blared in the background.

Cline sat up again, rapid blinking at the second nightmare of the night. His morning alarm was echoing in his small apartment and he decided that was enough sleep for the forseeable future. This was a two caf morning and hiding his eyes behind sunglasses the rest of the day, kind of day.

Mike leaned over his sink, sweat dripping heavily down his forehead to splatter against the tile alongside drops of thick red. He couldn't stop blinking and his heart hammered in his chest loudly enough to give him a migraine. It was getting worse. So much worse. He'd always been angry, always had to fight down his aggressive impulses, keep himself in check. Even as a kid he'd had a temper that worried his parents. The turn to the darkside had made it worse, but it also let him focus it, gave it an outlet and for a while that had been enough. Now though it seemed to be a collapse. The dreams had started slow, over the course of several months. He'd taken up smoking in the mornings to settle his nerves, dren it was at least a pack a day habit now. Maybe it'd have to be more considering he'd come in here for one and found the cabinets empty. The shot of Whiskey he'd managed would have to suffice instead.

After the dreams had started to be a nightly, or even multiple times a night occurrence a few weeks back it seemed as if it was cascading to an inevitable end. It wasn't restraining itself to just his night terrors anymore, either.

"What... what was her name?" Mike mumbled to himself as he moved to clean up the blood on his hands. "Why did... why did I do..." He flexed and unflexed. All she'd done was asked for directions, simply blocked his path for a moment, just a moment. He could have killed her. Hell had he? He'd ran so quickly after it he hadn't even bothered to check if she was okay. Just... blinding anger and rage and a target that he could unleash that on. Just a thing to be used and discarded. A shudder ran through his form.

Just a thing. That's how people like Sudoku or Baralai saw those around them. It was... Sith thinking. Cline put his elbows on the sink and buried his sticky hands in his red hair, crimson turning his locks a deeper hue. He was losing control. He had to get this under control before it was someone else. Someone who mattered. The visions from his nightmares hit him again, the body, the blood, the goodbye. He wasn't going to do that. He wasn't capable of that. It was a dream, just a dream. Wasn't it?

Mike sat in bed with his hands curled tightly into his red locks, his knees pulled to his chest causing the covers to bunch and coil around him. These near nightly experiences that were on the verge of driving him mad. The cruise coming up wasn't just about avoiding the Empire. Well, a lot of it was, but he needed the time off, the time to recover. Some rest and relaxation without the worries on his mind that seemed to drive him to a poor night's rest every night now, they were so frequent he had wondered why he hadn't become numb to them yet. Not that this particular dream would have been anything less than horrific.

This had been a new one. Normally he dreamt of his surrendering to his anger, or of being hunted down and dragged away by the Empire. Very real fears that were made worse with the cocktail of rage and shame that seemed to be constantly boiling inside him lately. Tonight, though, tonight he had relived in vivid detail the events of nearly a decade ago.

Tonight he'd gotten to walk back into his childhood home and find his family. To see their bodies broken and bloodied, to see them stacked like kindling for a fireplace with their blood streaking the floor from where they had been dragged from room to room. He saw his reaction, his horror, his terror, all the nightmarish and overwhelming sensations that had first caused him to flee into the waiting arms of the darkside,

He pulled his hands from his hair and buried his face in his palms, warm moisture staining his skin as he choked out a few ragged sobs. He couldn't keep going on like this.