Star Wars

Setting: Epic Dawn
Location: Coruscant
Characters: Orlah-Jane (brynne) and Arkon (rev_lucifer)

---

Orlah slunk along the side of the darkened building in near-silence. The occasional unavoidable piece of debris would crunch under her boot, but between the general hum and background noise of the city, and the whistling of the wind, it sounded merely as though the empty bags and old papers were just blowing around. She was torn between trying to move along faster, and trying to remain silent. She knew her partner was advancing at the same agonizingly slow pace as her around the other side of the shop, and that they expected to meet at the door after sweeping the perimeter, as it were. As far as they knew, their Target was inside working late on finishing a project that had already gone beyond its deadline.
That deadline was the reason Orlah and Arkon were there. Reagan had tried to bargain an extra week for himself. But trying isn't the same as succeeding, and his efforts had been… well, lacking.

Finally coming to the corner of the building, Orlah flattened her thin frame against it, readied her small blaster pistol, and peeked around the corner. She caught sight of Arkon, arriving almost in sync with her, and together they emerged. They seemed to melt out of the shadows, losing their ethereal quality and gaining solidity with every step they took toward the light over the rear entrance.
On either side of the door they paused, some silent communication passing between them with only a look. Orlah crouched, and pulled back the cowl that had thrown her face into deep shadow. Trusting Arkon to have his weapon ready she lowered her own to its holster so she could work with both hands. She extracted a mechanical lock pick from her pocket, leaned close to the seal of the door, and set to work.

In moments they were inside, she putting her tools away, raising her hood, and drawing her gun again as he ensured that nobody lay in wait for them…

…

Arkon didn't really expect much resistance from Reagan, having done his research on the paltry litle pot-bellied fellow. The project in question involved a new avenue in cybernetics. The core of the idea had been all Reagan's but his current employers saw fit to give the project to someone more competent behind his back. That person had not only succeeded in completely the project but also had managed to enhance it. Meanwhile, Reagan was still toiling over his theories and hypothesis and going nowhere. Aside from the occasional brilliant idea Reagan had proved to be quite useless and his employers had only recently become aware of that fact. To simply fire him adn send him packing wouldn't suffice, by right hte project was his and he could pick it up with him and take it elsewhere.. and Vector Corp just wouldn't allow that. Thus, it had been decided that Reagan should have a little late night accident.

Arkon hated Coruscant most times. The never ending squables between corporations was tiresome and it was the only high-paying work a good assassin could find. He couldn't fault Vector Corp for putting a high price on Reagan's accident. After he's taken care off his project becomes theirs and they'll be that much richer. Hiring a couple of assassins being little more than a small price to pay for the bigger reward.

As the pair ghosted down the seemingly endless corridor Arkon cast an onyx-eyed glance to his companion. "Remember, it has to look like a smash and grab. Reagan just happened to be working late and the most unfortunate time." Wetting his grey-black lips with an equally grey-black tongue Arkon extracted one of his DL-18's fro mit's hip holster. "After Reagan has punched his last time-chit we'll have to double back this way and make a mess of a few of these research stations." Using the barrel of his blaster pistol ARkon gestured to the closed doors that they'd been passing since they'd entered.

"If we fuck this up (Which I doubt we will) we'll be the next on Vector Corps list..."

…

Orlah nodded as Arkon spoke, agreeing with everything he said. Of course, she did so with an irate expression on her face. She knew what she was doing. She didn't have to be reminded. "We'd best not fuck it up then, hmm?" she whispered, pausing long enough to give Arkon a withering look. The sarcasm traded back and forth between them was pretty much standard. Neither seemed to have the ability to address the other without some witty comment or shameless pluck at the other tossed in. It was just how they worked together.

They advanced farther along the hall, sliding through the deep shadows. The building and the labs attached to it were all supposed to be shut down and closed for the night, so the only lights on were dim theatre lights set at intervals of ten feet along the hall. At the midpoint between each set of lights, it was almost pitch black.

In his office, Reagan sat in wait. For the most part his assassinators had moved through his complex almost invisibly, but once he realized that Vector Corp's work was advancing faster than he could keep up to it, he realized that he would most likely be terminated… not just his work position, but him. He'd known from the outset that he'd gotten himself involved with a corrupt bunch, but he'd expected to be able to pull his weight. He thought he was safe.
He thought wrong.
Reagan's hands were shaking a little, and he was sweating heavily. He pulled his forearm across his forehead to clear it of any sweat that threatened to drip in his eyes, dried his palms on the material of his pants, and lifted the two blasters on his desk before him, one in each hand.

As the woman - she was cute, he thought - passed before the last of the small cameras he'd put in under each light, where the light's own shadow would hide it, he stood. He stood a couple of feet back from the door and just to the right, waiting for the moment when it would burst open.
Three. Two. One.

Every plan had to be flexible, but as Arkon kicked in the door and Orlah found herself with a blaster against her forehead, she realized that even if he wasn't keeping up with his research for Vector Corp, she and her partner has sadly underestimated Reagan. "Put down your weapons," he was saying. "Oh, I know ya could shoot me, ya slimy bastard sons of bitches, but I wouldn't die without getting' in a couple shots o' my own."

…

A thousand and one scenarios flashed through Arkon's mind then in only a few handful of seconds. Loosing his lightsabre, igniting it, and slicing Reagan's hand off, thus removing the blast it holds from the equation, would work wonderfully, but then they'd be left with a dead research scientist who's hand had obviously been severed with a lightsaber. The last thing Vector Corp would want or need is a Jedi investigation. Using his lightsaber was out of the question. Relinquishing his weapons to the floor and letting Reagan slip away was otu of the question as well. Reagan knew they were coming, there was already no tellign how many people he had told abo0ut his proposed extermination. If in fact he did turn up dead under qeustionable circumstances things could get ugly .. if, in fact, Reagan had told anyone about his fears. That was sketchy, at best, but not entirely unplausible. They could let him go, of course. Track him down and kill him later in a situation more fitting to their own desires. Make it look like an accident, or a mugging. The options were endless.

Sneering, Arkon let his blaster slide from his grip. Thumping inceremoniusly to the floor near his feet. "Very well, Reagan. Very well. Be on your way then. Run faster than you've ever ran before, too." Arkon's sneer had shifted into a malefic grin. "Do you honestly think Vector Corp would just send us and us alone? The price on your head is substantial, and information regarding your termination is oozing through all the worst informatory sources. Be sure that there are others out there just itching at the chance to dispose of you."

A complete and utter lie, of course, but Reagan wouldn't know that.

…

Truth be told, Reagan hadn't told anybody about the termination he knew was coming. First off, that would mean revealing all of the research he'd been doing. Then, it was as likely as not that if anybody offered to help him out, he'd be working the same position in another business. What if he fell behind again?
Then there was the fact that he really had very little expectation that he'd actually make it out of this alive. The fact that he'd even gotten his blasters raised against two professional assassins made him a bit cocky. He smirked at Arkon when the grey-skinned man first spoke, shrugging off the threat. Run away, and never return. Ooh, yeah. Freaky.
But then Arkon added the fact that there were quite a few hunters out there looking for him. Had he really thought he could escape alive? His fear and doubt showed on his face, and his blaster's aim at Orlah's forehead slipped just a hair.

She watched it, her eyes moving only a fraction as they followed the nozzle of the gun, her expression remaining impassive. It only had to go a little farther before she'd have space to move before he could react with a fatal wound. She had little doubt, now, that she'd probably take a hit before the night was out if they tried to complete their task, but if she could keep it from being fatal, Orlah would be quite satisfied. She had other scars, after all… Each one was a learning experience. This one would teach her that no part of any plan could be static. They deserved to be in this mess, really. They hadn't anticipated it, and had made the mistake of not preparing for it.

Orlah's blasters his the ground with the same dull thud as Arkon's had, and Reagan grinned. His teeth were dirty… stained enough shat she could tell even in the dim light of the computer monitor on Reagan's desk. And they were crooked. She wrinkled her nose.

Reagan snorted at the woman, inching around both her and her male friend toward the door. He'd actually pulled it off! He was exultant. He had his doubts about how long he'd last once he'd made it out the door, but at least this was a start.

…

Arkon watched impassively as Reagan sidled around them and slipped out the door. Only once their target was out of sight did Arkon reach down and pick up his DL-18. Even as he listened to Reagan's runnign feet carry him down the hallway Arkon turned his onyx gaze to Orlah. "You realize, of course, that once he makes it out of the building we're fucked, right?" Arching a single inquiring brow Arkon settled his blaster back into it's holster and moved to the door. Pausing but a moment before peering around the doorframe to see Reagan hauling ass for the exit.

Grunting, and drawing his head back into the room, Arkon shook his head, redrew his blaster and stepped out into the hall. Reagan, glancing back over his shoulder at every chance he could, saw this and turned to let loose a few errant blaster bolts. The aim was poor and what few that made it far enough down the hall merely rebounded and disippated into the walls of the corridor on either side or Arkon. Shaking his head, the Dark Prophet raised his blaster and leveled it at a dead aim square on the back of Reagan's head. "I hate cleaning up messes." He grumbled beneath his breath as Reagan burst out the door at the end of the hall and was gone.

"So much for that smash and grab idea." He grumbled. "Daedlas isn't going to be happy with this unfortunate turn of events." Heaving in an ample breath Arkon then set into a run down the corridor.

…

Orlah stooped to pick up her blasters almost as soon as Reagan had moved past them and begun running. She knew she could hit him in time. The corridor was a long one. It was just a matter of getting her hands on her guns again…

Arkon's slower reaction time stilled her, and she holstered one blaster while lifting the other to a ready position. She was nodding again as Arkon spoke to her, but this time the look of ire wasn't evident on her pretty features. Instead, it was a scowl of frustration. Damn it, damn it, damn it.

"No," she said, leaping into a run right behind Arkon toward the door that Reagan had just burst out of. "He's not."
After that, she decided it would be prudent to save her breath. Depending on Reagan's actions, they could be running for quite a length of time. Now, she and Arkon might have some advantages that Reagan didn't, but they weren't super-human, and they couldn't run forever. Then again, he didn't really have that much of a head start on them. Maybe they could catch him quickly enough to pull him back inside…
That thought in mind, Orlah put on a burst of speed and surged past Arkon in the hallway. Outside, she could hear the roar of a motor coming to life, and recognized it as the sound of the vehicle that had been parked in the main garage. She certainly wouldn't be able to outrun that but it would take Reagan precious time to get it going. Even a few moments might be to much. Putting her head down, bending forward, Orlah flew through the door just as Reagan's speeder bike was beginning to pick up some speed. It was a small enough rig that the force of her body's impact against its side sent it toppling, pinning Reagan's leg beneath it, while she tucked into a roll to keep from sprawling face-first onto the pavement.

Nonetheless, she landed badly, and it would take her a wasted moment to regain her feet. She knew that Arkon was close enough behind her to get a hold of Reagan and drag him back inside, if only he would understand what her intent had been. Unable to stand quickly enough to be of much assistance, she nonetheless shifted her weight onto her upper body while she lay on the ground, and brought a booted heel down with as much force as she could muster on the back of Reagan's hand where he was stretching it out to grab his blaster from the pavement. "I don't think so," she growled at him, as Arkon's black-enshrouded form swept in.

…

For the briefest of seconds, as Arkon moved otu into the parking garage, he paused to take in the situation. Reagan and his sputtering speeder-bike in an uncomfortable looking pile in the middle of the garage. Orlah a few feet away from him and regaining her wits after her diving assult. Reagan reaching for his blaster and Orlah breaking his hand beneath her booted foot. Gathering The Force to himself and redirecting it out, Arkon picked up Reagan's speeder-bike. Lifting it up off the fallen research scientist... and releasing his grip upon it. Leaving it to fall the three feet he had lifted it. It fell back onto Reagan with the most awful crunching sound and Reagan screamed.. and screamed.

"Well, well. Not as fast as you thought you were, eh Reagan?" Chuckling, Arkon moved forward to the jumbled pile of speeder-bike and man. "What do you think, Orlah. Does this look like an accident to you?" Arching a brow, the Dark Prophet glanced up and over the pile before him to his companion as she rose to her feet.

…

Orlah, sitting so much closer to where Reagan lay in a tangled mess pinned beneath his bike, was unsure of what Arkon was thinking when he began to lift the bike and set Reagan free. The look of triumph that washed briefly over the man's face was wiped away before he could get up, however, as the bike crashed back down on top of him.
So much closer than Arkon, she also heard a very audible crunch of bone before Reagan managed to push his first scream of absolute agony through his throat.

She climbed to her feet as Arkon moved forward to stand as the final champion over Reagan, his crushed legs, and his destroyed bike. "It looks enough like one to satisfy me," she said, but then she hesitated. "Almost," she added after a brief pause.
No sooner had she spoken than Reagan's whimpers of pain and defeat were cut off as his throat constricted. Orlah did little more than narrow her eyes, but her face became menacing and suddenly Reagan couldn't breathe. "Listen to me, you sack of shit," she hissed at him, "Nobody puts a blaster in my face." She tightened the grip that she had on his throat with the Force, and Reagan wheezed. He was running out of air, and quickly. Humorously enough, he began thrashing about as much as his crushed body would let him, simply wasting what little oxygen he had left, instead of preserving it.

…

Arkon chuckled faintly, shaking his head as he turned away and moved back to the doorway they'd recently exited from. Leaving Orlah to finish off Reagan the Dark Prophet moved down the corridor gathering up all of Reagan's little cameras. It wouldn't pay to leave evidence of the mains well founded paranoia behind, after all. Once they'd all been gathered and tucked into his pocket the Dark Prophet then moved into Reagan's office. Sliding around behind the man's desk and making himself comfortable in the man's chair as he fingered a button on the desktop and the viewer flickered to life. Manipulating various buttons on the desktop he began to track down all of the movie files of he and Orlah moving up the hallway and promptly deleted them. Anything else left behind was Vector Corps problem, not theirs.

With that task finished Arkon exited Reagan's office and thumbed the panel beside the door to close and lock it. He paused for a moment then, starign at the scorch marks on the walls that Reagan's blaster bolts had left behind. Those could prove problematic. Those, too, would be left to Vector Corps to explain as he had no way of removing them on such short notice. Shrugging indifferently, Arkon roved back down the corridor, jingling the mini-cams in his pocket as he returned to the parking garage to see if Orlah had finished terminating Reagan.

…

That Arkon left Orlah to deal with Reagon pleased her to no end. Obviously he had no problems with her method of strangulation, and so she kept right on with it. With his throat all but crushed closed, Reagan was incapable of making any sounds other than wheezes and gurgles. Orlah-Jane was well aware that Arkon would only be gone for a few minutes, but she intended to get as much satisfaction out of those few minutes as she possibly could. Since she couldn't beat the already broken man to death, she decided that a slow and painful strangulation was the next best thing. Standing only a few feet away from his prone body, Orlah maintained her Force grip on Reagan's windpipe until she began to black out and fall still. Then she would release him for just a moment, long enough that the human will to live would kick in and he would gasp for air, his eyes losing their dull sheen for those two seconds that he thought she had let go.
Then the grip would return, and his air would be cut off, and he'd be left to strangle almost to death yet again. She managed this process twice before she knew her time was running short and she'd have to actually off him. After the beating he had taken, and the fear he had suffered, not to mention the blood loss from his legs and his two already suffered near-deaths, when Orlah finally set her mind to killing Reagan once and for all, he asphyxiated entirely too quickly for her to be completely satisfied. His lungs and heart just couldn't take any more stress, but she managed to console herself with the fact that despite their original bungle, she and Severe had gotten their job done as Vector Corp had wanted.

As timing had it, Reagan was expiring just as Arkon marched back into the garage to check up on his life-status, and both of the assassins had the pleasure of watching him pass away. "Ready to go?" Orlah looked up at Arkon for his nod.

…