Manaan, Around Tea Time

[D.C.]

The market place in Ahto City was full of living beings browsing wares and trying to get all their stuff at a much cheaper price. For some reason all of them seemed to be convinced of the very fact that all of the goods were ridiculously overpriced. Of course the shopkeepers tried to convince their customers in turn that these were actually the right prices, but guess what . . . nobody would buy that. Pardon my pun.

So, now that we've set the stage, you up for a little stroll? Because amongst all these living beings, all these people who thought they knew the way of the world so well, all these creatures so used to peace and serenity . . . amongst these precious souls stood one man who wasn't as alive as the others (although he did a very good job at making it seem so) yet in a sick and twisted way he was . . . in a way he was actually the most alive of everyone present.

He was incredibly hungry, and if you would look into his crimson eyes you would see it. You would see those eyes were lit up with a crazy kind of energy, a hideous power that seemed to swirl around this man like an eternal, everlasting storm of darkness and death. The individual reeked of death, and the living beings gave this one a wide berth.

He thought that was ****ing hilarious.

He let his eyes wander over the fishes laid out on the wooden table and he licked his lips. He had to still his hunger and he had to do this now. His awful jaws must be sated otherwise he would go mad. Otherwise he would start to jump and jive and cackle and laugh and shout and cry, and it wouldn't be a pretty sight. It would be disastrous for the people in the market square. It would be disastrous for himself.

It would be disastrous for that entire kriffing planet.

He clenched his hands to fists and buried his sharp nails into his palms, the pain snapped him out of it for the moment but the bloodlust was still there. Just not as overwhelming as moments ago. He simply continued to browse the wares, walked past the shops and finally he stopped. Our handsome, dark madman stopped because his red eyes spotted someone in the crowd. A pretty face, a pretty smile; a pretty girl wearing pretty clothes. Heh, she was young, yeah. She was very young. Twenty-something years old, really in the prime of her lovely life. Too young for him, certainly, considering he had seen more than seven-hundred winters already, but that was okay. It wasn't like she'd taste any different than anyone else, right?

And so he approached. Step by step. He could feel it in his stomach--the sensation--and he felt how it spread through his body. All the way to his toes and his fingertips and way up to his throat where it lingered awhile and made him unable to breathe for the moment. It ascended to his brains and he felt a little light in his head, but that was okay too. Actually, that was just his mind--or was it his soul?--telling him that he needed to feed.

He emerged from the crowd and stopped right in front of her. He pulled back his hood and a handsome face with twinkling green eyes appeared. He smiled, not slyly or anything, but friendly in fact. And the moment she looked into his eyes she was doomed.

They left the market place and they entered a building, a room; an empty, cold room where nobody would disturb them. But he wasn't here for love . . . he was just so ****ing hungry.

When he turned toward her his mask fell off his face and his crimson eyes were there, his demonic face was there, his black hair and his razor sharp teeth were there. He grinned first, then chuckled and finally burst out in demonic, maniacal laughter that filled the entire room: WOOOOAHAHAHAHA!

He shook his head. He pounded his own head with his fist a couple times, knowing that he almost let the bloodlust take control again. He still giggled every now and then but he tried to suppress this. Meanwhile, the girl sat there in the corner, terrified. So incredibly terrified. She had no idea what that creature was that had lured her into this trap. She really hadn't the faintest idea!

"I'm sorry," he said in a low voice, and he wanted to add something, but he couldn't because he burst out in laughter once again. He fell to his knees and tore at his own hair, and continued laughing. Soon the laughter turned into intense screaming and it burned in his throat. It hurt. Oh, it hurt so much! It hurt it hurt it hurt because

HIS JAWS HAD TO BE SATED!

And so . . . it . . . happened.

He crawled over the floor toward her while she was paralysed with fear, just utterly paralysed! She didn't dare move a single limb out of fear he would just lunge out at her and maybe tear off an arm, or rip away some of her skin. Her eyes grew wide with terror when she saw the saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth and the tears glistening in his eyes. Was that regret? Was that sadness? No . . . it couldn't be. He was a monster!

"You're so lovely," he said with his big eyes wide open, his pupils incredibly small and a nasty, sick, sadistic grin on his mug. "So so so so looooovely!" He giggled again. He giggled and tittered as if someone was tickling him. Frankly, he just wanted to give her a compliment despite it all.

So she sat there in the corner, her back against the wall, her legs stretched out in front of her, and he slowly crawled over her until their faces were only inches away from one another.

"Beauty," he whispered. "Beauty beauty beauty . . . I love thee so. I love thee soooo. So much. So so so much. So pretty. Shiny eyes! Shining. I want you in my heart, my love."

The sensation of fear was killing her, consuming her, totally tearing her soul away and leaving nothing behind. Only emptiness and doom. But for him it wasn't a problem. He just leaned in some more and licked her cheek with his tongue, and then right before she passed out she saw how the proboscises slithered out of the holes in his face--holes that had been invisible at first. Finally she realised what he was.

A hungry Anzat.

So hungry.

So ****ing hungry.

And he stilled his hunger.

And he sated his jaws.

And he became whole again.

Slowly he rose to a stand and his eyes became the twinkling greens once more. His nasty grin transformed into a handsome smile. His black aura disappeared.

He was a normal human being once more.

Marten Hill turned toward the exit of the building and left. He would search for someone, and he would get down to business. He had much to do, and there was much to talk about.

He looked forward to this.

Tee-hee.

 

[Radiwalker]

A woman, well past her youth, was standing in one of the dark corners of the market district of Ahto city. She, unlike the rest of the crowd that was aimlessly wondering about, pleasuring themselves, wasting fortunes and acquiring new ones, she had a purpose... even two. She was following leads on two men, two men with whom she was indirectly associated. Two men through whom she would achieve goals she had been pursuing for many long years... it all came down to these two men... one of them was a murderer, a vagabond and most of all, a coward. The other was serene, just, a guardian of peace, a protector of the weak... and worst of all... believed to be dead.

It hadn't been long before she picked up a scent, but it was a different from those she was anticipating. It was one much stronger and much darker... a kind of darkness she had never before experienced... and then there was a scream... loss... laughter... so many emotions, so much suffering... and even more of something else... but what was it... she couldn't determine it right away, but when she did a grim expression passed through her face. Her immediate goals were put aside and she rushed through the crowds, moving with relative ease, her gray cloak following her like a shadow, her white hair waving back and her silver eyes piercing forwards... she was following the scent of a very sinister and evil being... one that she might not defeat, one that she would not fight, especially here on Manaan, but one that, despite how much it terrified her, might have the answers she was looking for.

 

[D.C.]

There was something in the air, he could feel it so strongly and he knew exactly what was coming at him. He knew it so very well because he had prepared himself for this. In fact, this was the very reason that he was on Manaan, a world that he did not come to very often; a world that, according to him, could Go And Kriff Itself. Water and then some floating cities . . . only fishes and aquatic people were able to move around freely here. All the landlubbers were super restricted. Marten hated being restricted. He hated boundaries.

Hence he kept pushing boundaries.

He tucked his hands in the pockets on his leather jacket and sauntered down to the hotel in Ahto City. He could still feel the entity coming at him and he figured that he should be the one to pick the location, someplace that'd be of use to him. So he entered the lobby and made his way to one of the couches in the lounge area. He took his seat and he reached inside his jacket, finding his pack of tobacco with his fingertips, and then produced the pack. Slowly he began to roll himself a cigarette and he awaited her arrival patiently. He would meet her here and then they would go to a place where they might talk in peace.

A serene smile played on his lips and his green eyes twinkled and shimmered as if he was incredibly pleased with something. As if he was feeling just fine and all right and totally ready to face the day. Of course that was because he had just fed, had just replenished his energy. After feeding he always felt fine and felt these rushes of energy filling up his heart and soul. It made him feel young again.

He put the cigarette in his mouth and, not really caring whether anyone would see it or not, he raised his thumb just below the tip of the cigarette. He sent a wee bit of Force energy through his hand and a tiny flame ignited on the tip of his thumb. He lit the cigarette and while he took a deep drag he waved his hand slightly and the flame got extinguished instantly.

Come on then, pretty bird, he thought to himself with a smirk. Don't keep me waitin' . . . we got a date, y'know, but maybe ya forgot.

He quickly took his cigarette between his index finger and thumb and let out a chuckle, some of the smoke escaped his lips while he did so. Then he sat back in the comfortable couch, his left leg over his right, his left hand behind his head and the cigarette in his right hand.

Marten was patient.

He just relaxed awhile.

He had all the time in the world, after all.

 

[Radiwalker]

The woman kept making her way through the crowd. She was swift, careful and subtle, people would feel her strength as she pushed them away, but few would turn their heads to look at her and none would actually remember her. She actually couldn't remember herself. Through the long years her life had changed so much, she could barely recognize herself anymore. She used to be a young beautiful girl aspiring to become a jedi, with a loving family supporting her and a strong order to accept and train her.

But it all changed, slowly and gradually it went downhill. Her life was picked apart bit by bit, throwing her into a deep dark pit. First her father had been killed in action and she was recruited by the Brotherhood of Judicium. She thought they would do her good train her well and help her bring justice to those left unpunished for their crimes and for a time things seemed to work out. She kept her links with the jedi order, even though she didn't keep in touch with her family, she was becoming more and more versed in the Force and she raised within the ranks of the Brotherhood. But then the unthinkable happened.

She was sent after an anonymous target with just a brief description and a meeting place. It was in a crowded market, much like the one she was passing through now and in the very moment she set eyes on her target, she moved in to kill. She had learned that the more time she spent on examining her targets the harder it was to take them out. So, she wasted no time, but instead of carrying her task easily, she stopped at the last moment, just as her target turned and she saw his face. It was a grown man, who looked familiar, too familiar, so familiar that she cursed her life at that very moment.

The black cloak, the reddened irises, the sinister smile and despite all that she could not bring herself to kill her own brother. He too recognized a sister in the woman that had moved to strike him down and he too stayed his hand, but both of them knew what that meant, both of them knew that at that very moment they became exiles and could never go back to their old lives. That, as it turned out, wouldn't be too hard for the man.

He told her his story. How he and their other brother were also eventually recruited by the jedi, their force sensitivity not being as strong as hers, but still strong enough for them to be trained. But their mother was left on her own. One day bandits broke into their old home and killed their mother in a heist. The other brother went after them slaughtering them in his anger and madness, for the next several weeks the two brothers self-exiled themselves, only to be pursued by the jedi. Eventually he realized that his brother would never recover from his madness, from the constant nightmares, from the overwhelming emotions and there was only one thing to do - put him out of his misery. He killed his own brother and fled. He joined the sith for a while, but he couldn't stand them, they were simply too dark for him... it interesting for such words to come from his mouth, when his looks were so sinister. Then he traveled on his own for a while and had decided to try and find her, find his sister. It wasn't long before he received a message from an unknown source telling him where to go, to get information for his sister, obviously the Brotherhood had located him.

But how sick were they to have her kill him. Or had they decided to let her make the final choice, whether he was to be killed or not, whether his actions were justly or not, she would never find out, for she would never return to them and not because she didn't want and not because she was afraid, but because the Brotherhood was soon lost. With the Empire expanding and winning the war most of the Brotherhood's members were slaughtered and the few that remained were scattered, gone into exile, or trying to fight in their own small way. One thing was certain - peace and justice had been forsaken.

And so the woman took matter into her own hands, with her brother to help her... but that is a different story, a story she would think of at a different time, for now she had reached her destination and her silver eyes were set on a figure, whose energies were older than she could possibly imagine. This man... if he could be called a man, was so sinister... sick... mad... the darkness that was within him was both disgusting and intriguing. She stopped for a short moment, locking eyes with him, inspecting him, while waving her hand over her belt, where she supposedly kept her weapon, but then she moved in casually, allowing both her hands to drop. She down next to him, but not too close and yet not too far.

She pointed at his cigarette "Got one to share, boy?" she was well aware that the man was far older and more experienced than her, but he certainly didn't look his age. If they asked some random spectator he could as well guess that the man was her son. "It has been a while since I've seen one of your kind..." her gaze dropped as if she was reminiscing and then she mumbled "quite a while."

 

[D.C.]

Marten watched her approach him and he took a deep drag when she sat down, filling up his lungs while listening to her question. He parted his lips and breathed out the smoke again. He looked at the mystic cloud of smoke and his breath, knowing that secrets might be hidden inside it. If someone would inhale the smoke they would bear witness to those terrible secrets, whether they wanted to or not, and then they would be driven to insanity--a terrible insanity that one could never possibly escape from. Breathing in the smoke he had just breathed out would kill you.

He was the devil, after all.

"Of course, milady," he answered her question. He put his own cigarette in his mouth and produced his pack of tobacco again. He laid the pack on his lap and started to roll her one. "I am glad that you've made it here," he said with his own cigarette still in his mouth. Somehow he still managed to speak clearly. "It's just wonderful to find myself in the company of such beauty . . ."

His trained fingers finished the job and a moment later he held out the cigarette to her. Then he put away his pack of tobacco and took his own cigarette out of his mouth again.

"For you." He smiled at her. It was an intense smile; a facial expression that might draw someone in and might force them to stare into his luminous green eyes, and if they would do so they would be driven mad much like they would be driven mad if they would inhale the smoke he'd exhaled. So maybe he wasn't the devil. Maybe he was something more sinister, something more tangible, something more deadly.

Maybe he was poison.

Venom.

In any case, whatever he was . . . he was disaster.

"So, first things first," he said. "Some introductions might be in order . . . for we hain't met before." He reached out with his hand and the tiny flame appeared on the tip of his thumb once more, so he could light up her cigarette. "My name is Marek Havers. It's an absolute pleasure to meet thee."

 

[Radiwalker]

She smiled at the seeming compliment, but it was a feint smile, one that was more cynical than anything else. Because that is what life had made her - cynical. She had become cynical with her past, present and future, and there was only one thing she cared about, only one person she cherished and wanted to protect and yet she would never meet that person, not if she could help it, for if they ever encountered, their lives would change forever.

Taking the cigarette she crossed her legs in a feminine manner, having them point at her counterpart, and after using the provided fire to light it up she took drag from it and then exhaled upward, bending her head slightly backwards. In that very moment she looked beautiful and yet intimidating. Despite the feminine posture, her overall attitude was such that only a certain few would dare speak to her and try to make her theirs... none of them would succeed.

She waved her silver hair backwards, then leaned to her side towards the table, where she placed her left hand flat and bent with the fingers touching the elbow of the right hand, which was positioned on the table at the same time. Her right wrist was bent backwards, still holding the cigarette and her head leaned in towards that wrist and found comfort in using it as a pillar. Her eyes were slightly tired, with her lids almost falling over her iris, she took in another drag, then returned to her previous, slouching position.

During this whole time she was evaluating the man sitting across from her. His attitude was incredible, his laidback style and his ease of speech... she could think of no other sith who had acted like that around her... well almost no other sith. "Lillay's my name." she took in another drag and then straightened up, she placed her left hand in her lap and the right she extended to the side, tapping on the cigarette to have the waste drop from its tip, then returned the hand to its previous posture on the table, with the wrist bent backwards. "You speak as if you were expecting me, but tell me, do you know why I am here?" her eyes narrowed and her voice's intensity increased, but only so slightly that just the one she was speaking to would catch the change. "Your brethren used to fear me, you know? But then they forgot and I tried to remind them, but I failed." she paused a moment, evaluating her counterpart's reaction.

"And now I only seek to protect the one thing that remains dear to me, but she can not know, she must never know, for if she learns, they will too." she knew the sith would hardly catch on to her words, but her mind would easily be an open book to someone like him. He would see her daughter and he would feel how strongly Lilay wanted to protect her... and then he would them, the men from her dream... two of them, sometimes three... one was working alone and the others seemed to be a team... the loner was always killed by the others, or one of them, the one who would eventually kill her, the one whom she had known for all his life, the one whom she feared the most, the one with the dark hair, dark eyes and that dark sinister smile that was so peculiar, she had not seen that man for so long, in fact she didn't even know his name, but she did know who he was, even though she referred to him differently than appropriate, she referred to him as... the man with the mask. "And they would kill her..."

 

[D.C.]

"You speak as if you were expecting me, but tell me, do you know why I am here?" she said.

Marten simply nodded at her, keeping his eyes fixed on hers as though he was trying to stare straight into her soul . . . and that was exactly what the dark man was doing. It was so disturbing because he did it with such ease, as though it was a second nature to him, something he had been practising for centuries. He read her thoughts . . . saw her thoughts, even. He knew almost everything about her. Almost. And almost was enough.

"Your brethren used to fear me, you know? But then they forgot and I tried to remind them, but I failed." She seemed to pause after she had said this, mayhap to evaluate MH's reaction. But he barely reacted, except for a slight, somewhat sad smile playing on his lips, as though he was showing his sympathy for her that way. And then there was that mystical glimmer in his ethereal, green eyes: he seemed to feel sorry for her.

He knew she hadn't finished speaking yet and so he remained silent for the time being until it was his turn to speak. In the meantime he took another deep drag and then watched the cloud of smoke slowly drift toward his interlocutor's pretty face. He wondered if she would inhale any of the smoke, on purpose or perhaps by accident. He wondered what would happen to her if she did. He thought it was quite possible she would get terribly ill; yet he knew that she would most likely just lose her mind. It would be a pity but still quite interesting to see at the same time, even though it was something he had witnessed on so many ocassions, over and over again, throughout the aeons.

"You sound a little frightened, milady," he finally said, his voice so soft that it was almost a whisper, yet still warm and friendly and--believe it or not--there was even a hint of concern in it. "But I promise thee this: you shall have nothing to fear from either of these three dark men that you keep seeing in your dark visions. No harm shall come to the girl; no harm shall come to you. I promise thee." His eyes, his facial expression, his intonation, his word choice--everything about him seemed so sincere. So true. So pure. And this time he even smiled at her warmly. It was a frank smile, a real smile. A haunting smile.

"I could help you find a hidden meaning inside the darkness of your vision," he said. "Because the truth is, love, the two dark men that you witness working together--those who kill the third--are of no real importance. Aye, they play a large role in your vision as they slay one who wants to kill your girl, but they are merely shadows . . . they are but apparitions from another realm. They have only one role to fulfil: it's that of the silent, watchful guardian. No, they do not matter at all. But the one who does is the third.

"The third is the dead man.

"The third is Mort.

"Death.

"The third must die if you want the one you care about to live."

Marten had been smiling all this time, and had spoken slowly and clearly to ensure Lilay would be able to hear every word he said, for every single word he had uttered was incredibly important.

He took another drag, somehow indicating that it was now Lilay's turn to speak again, and he sat back leisurely.

He had all the time in the universe, after all, and so did she whether she realised it or not.

The Force would give them time.

The Force would provide for them.

For him.

(because the Force was his little pet)

 

[Radiwalker]

Something was wrong. She could feel it. This man, whoever he was, knew more than he let out. Suddenly she felt fragile, weak. The cigar fell from between her fingers, her lower lip trembled and her eyes widened. She had gone to seek information from the man, but had in fact given him a lot of it, or had she... she was uncertain, confused and most of all she was exposed. She had to leave, she had to get away, otherwise this man... this man... who was he...

The more she looked at him, the more familiar he was. All her previous feelings were swept away and she was overwhelmed by a strong sensation of strength and determination. She stood up and without a word turned around, whipping her hair behind her back and walking away, cursing herself for the moment of weakness. But it was also a moment of realization. She had wasted too much time trying to seek out her enemies, those who would harm her daughter and not enough time in actually watching over her. It was time for a change of plan...

--------------------

As the silver-haired woman stormed out of the building, heading towards the spaceport to be off the planet, another cloaked figure walked in. Her face was similar to that of the other woman, but it was much younger. Her purple eyes scanned the area and after spending several moments on a figure in one of the corners of the lobby, she removed her hood, waving her black hair backwards, while allowing her red banks to fall over her forehead. She stepped lightly and approached the reception, only to be told to wait a while and take a seat on one of the couches, as her room had not been prepared, yet.

She had received information about a man, a man she thought she'd never see again, a man she thought for dead. But now there was hope and that was all she needed to set off an adventure to look for him. Still, the odds were against her. But she didn't believe in odds, she believed in the Force and knew that it would guide her and take her down the path she had to walk.

She stepped away from the reception and took a seat not too far from the corner where the shady figure was seated. She noticed a cigarette in his hand, but she didn't allow her gaze to wonder off too much. She knew no sith would dare attack her on Manaan, but she also knew it was no good idea to provoke them. So she kept to herself, keeping her lightsaber well underneath her robes, continuously inspecting all people inside the lobby.

Yet she could not shake off a strange sensation. As if the dark man in the corner was calling out to her, or perhaps it was the Force that was drawing her to him. Whatever it was, in a matter of moments she found herself standing up from her seat and walking towards the man. She noticed another cigarette on the ground, one that was still lit, or perhaps had just been extinguished, either way it had not been finished. For a second she remembered a silver-haired woman storming out from the building just before she could enter it and wondered if there was some connection, but she quickly shook that thought off, as she smiled at the dark man.

"Good day." she was curious about him and his purpose and the cigarette on the ground and that strange sensation that this moment was making her feel, but she could not let the sith know of any of that, if he was indeed a sith. Instead she kept her mind closed and locked, allowing only her gestures and words to speak for her. She was cautious and careful, just like on any other mission. "May I take a seat here, as I prefer sitting in corners." she looked towards one of the cushions that had clearly been sat on recently. "I like to have a good view on the place and this is a perfect sweet spot." Her words fit perfectly with her cover, for jedi were used to being cautious, however, she was speaking to a dark man, so she suspected he might not fall for her trick.

 

[D.C.]

He watched her approach, step by gracious step. He glanced up at her young, pretty face and for a moment he wondered if the woman he had talked to earlier was trying to fool him by walking out and back in, now with her appearance altered by the Force. An illusion. But that wasn't the case here at all. This one's signature in the Force was different in every way. And besides, if it truly had been an illusion he would've seen right through it--he had learned how to do that the hard way. For a moment he was reminded of four illusions engaging him in battle--a battle he had lost because his opponent cheated. But that seemed so long ago. So long ago since he had been defeated and then frozen in ice. So long since he had come out of hiding and made his entrance into the universe again. In a way, Marten was like a cockroach. Unkillable. He just kept coming back, every time more and more powerful.

"Of course, love," Marten said to her. "Have a seat, I don't mind. In fact, I must say I feel honoured that someone as beautiful as you might grace me with your company." Holding the cigarette between the tip of his index finger and thumb of his left hand, and away from her so it would not bother her, he got to his feet. He then knelt before her, taking her hand in his right, and gently placed a kiss upon the back of her hand. He rose to his full length again and gestured toward the seat.

"Dost thou want something to quench thy thirst, my lady?" he asked, speaking in a subtle, gentle, yet casual manner. A relaxed manner. A peaceful manner. It almost seemed as though this man here was the embodiment of serenity itself. But whether that was true or not was something for him to know and the rest of the galaxy to find out.

He smiled at her, knowing that this young lady--who looked in some ways similar to the woman he had just talked to--had been sent to him by the Force. Aye, indeed, there must be a reason for her being here. While Marten did believe in the concept of coincidence, he could just sense that this wasn't a coincidence. This was something carefully planned out by whatever God controlled fate these days.

You have her eyes . . . he thought to himself, somehow managing to keep up his current demeanour instead of giggling like a bloody maniac. He was glad he had quenched his own thirst already. Otherwise this would've turned into one huge fiasco.

Still standing, he patiently awaited her response. He still had all the time in the universe, after all, so he was taking it slooow . . .

 

[Radiwalker]

She provided a blush smile at the compliment, not so much because she was acting, or because she was flattered, but because she was surprised at the eloquence of the strange man. She knew sith were silver-tongued, but she also thought them for arrogant and self-centered, whereas this man was concentrating on her, rather than himself, which didn't mean that he wasn't a narcissistic maniac, but certainly made him stand out among the load of scum that the Empire consisted of.

The kiss on her hand only strengthened her first impression that she was in the company of a very unusual persona, yet she did not hurry to draw any conclusions. He seemed relaxed, calm, almost as if he had all the time in the world, as if he had nowhere to be and nothing to do. He was the very definition of serenity and the vibe he was giving away, only drew her closer to him, despite Jaina's best attempts to resist the temptation, despite her inner voice telling her to turn around and leave, while she still could, there was something drawing her to him and it was more than curiosity.

"Perhaps some jawa juice." her voice was low and slightly trembling, as her emotions were trying to come out on the surface. Nevertheless, she remembered her training and did her best to remain in control of herself as much as she could. She sat down and tried to relax her body, while intensifying her thoughts and concentrating her mind. "My name is Jaina." she felt no need to hide her true name, even though the thought went through her mind. "And who do I have the pleasure of keeping company to?" her mind was clearing and her usual reasoning was slowly returning, she was beginning to gain control over herself, although that may just be because it was her doing the speaking, rather than her counterpart, whose actions, voice and even presence are best described as enchanting.

 

[D.C.]

Marten signalled for one of the waiters to come over and asked the man in a friendly manner if he could arrange some Jawa juice for the lady and some Corellian whisky for himself (for Marten, that is, not the waiter, of course). The waiter nodded and was off.

He noticed how her voice slightly trembled and he offered her a warm smile. "Are you nervous, Jaina?" he asked calmly. "I assure you that there's nothing here to be afraid of. I'll keep you out of harm's way, it's a promise. And my, my, wouldn't I be rude if I wouldn't introduce myself properly to you? Where are my manners? You may call me Michael Howard. Now"--he bent forward to extinguish his cigarette in the ash tray on the table--"can I be of any service to you, Lady Jaina? Your wish is my command, and I shall be happy to oblige." He sat back and looked her straight in the eye. His eyes shimmered ethereally like beautiful, polished jewels, seemingly unreal . . . an arcane, dreamy glimmer of mystic proportions.

 

[Radiwalker]

The sheer eloquence and the vibe that this man was giving away almost managed to deceive Jaina into trusting him, but she remembered his aura, she remembered who he truly was and which side he was on. His words would not confuse and distract her, she would not lose herself in his enchanting smiles and manners, she would keep true to her training and proceed in both her original task and keeping a close eye on this unique persona.

"No, I'm sorry. I don't believe there is anything you could help me with." she was more resonant and truthful, for she truly believed this man could not help her. But then, at that very moment, the beverages arrived and they were served by a different man, one who Jaina was all too familiar with. As he placed the jawa juice, announcing its name, in front of the girl, her hand snapped and caught his wrist, while she stared into her eyes. Her voice trembled like never before and her other hand flicked "Maric?" she could not believe her eyes. She had heard rumors of a man with his description serving on Manaan, but she thought that was all they were - rumors. She believed he had been lost to her and yet there he was, serving her jawa juice. "I'm sorry, my lady, who?"

His answer pierced her like a spear. Her hand let go of his wrist and slid down the table. Her whole body shook for an instant. She could not believe he did not remember her. "Excuse me, but I must return to the other clients." the man offered a bewildered smile and walked away, leaving the girl even more distraught. For a moment she forgot whose presence she was in. She forgot everything. All she could think of was how could Maric not remember her. Had he lost his mind? Perhaps he had. That would explain him being alive and not with the jedi. But along with that one logical thought millions of other that made no sense, but caused worry within the girl, raced through her mind and did not allow her to regain control over herself. She was slowly beginning to fade away. She sank into her seat. Her eyes remaining blank, as her mind continued contemplating on this impossible situation.

 

[D.C.]

Marten watched the scene unfold before his eyes, and once this Maric had left, he looked at Jaina, wearing an expression of concern on his handsome face. "Are you all right, love?" he asked her.

He could tell from the way that she acted that there was something going on between her and this Maric. He had no idea what might have transpired between the two, but evidently it had such an impact on her that she was rather shocked now. Shocked because Maric had seemingly pretended not to know her.

"Look," Marten said, "there is absolutely no reason for you to tell me what's going on. We are but strangers to one another, and therefore you probably can't know whether you could trust me or not. But let me tell you this: I can be trusted. After all, what would I do with the knowledge? If you would deign to tell me, it might just make you feel a little better. In fact, talking to a stranger about your worries--someone who doesn't know you and thus someone to whom your problems mean nothing, at least if you get right down to it--is often a very effective way of getting rid of one's frustrations. You see, because your problems don't mean anything to me, I cannot go around and tell everyone about it behind your back. What's in it for me? I don't know you; my associates don't, either. See what I mean?"

He smiled, a genuine one. Yes, indeed, his smile being real was unquestionable. It was the intention behind the smile that was rather questionable, though. But who could tell? Wasn't Marten a master of deception? Wasn't it a skill he had been practising for over six hundred years now?

"That is not to say that I don't care," he added. "I do care about other people. I always have. I'm like a . . . Good Samaritan, shall we say? Though you may not know that term; it's a term from another universe altogether."

He raised his glass and took a small sip from his whisky, waiting for her to speak once more.

 

[Radiwalker]

Jaina was at an absolute loss. Her body language and her expression were giving nothing away. She was compressing her feelings, but in truth she was lost. She knew not what to do. She could hear the dark man speak, yet she did not listen, or at least not entirely. She realized that he could easily pick up on her distress if she did not act and she could not allow that.

Furthermore, his words were soothing and calming. It was as if he was one of those flowers that lured insects with sweet juices and then sucked them in, devouring them. Ironic. How often the one thing you'd think you need, would lead to your demise. But Jaina was no fool, she knew better than to trust this man. Nobody with good intentions found to need to use such sweet and reassuring talk. Even the jedi masters did not assume such a tone, asking for trust in such an eloquent way that one would hurry to provide it. It was like that old saying about diplomats.

A diplomat is a person who would tell you to go **** yourself in such a manner that you'd be looking forward to the trip.

Jaina barely managed to suppress a giggle at that thought. That was when she realized that she had been quiet for a while. It hadn't been too long, but perhaps it was just long enough to tip the man off on just how close to her heart the matter at hand was. She realized there was no use in trying to hide that. But perhaps avoiding the whole truth would yet be beneficial.

"This is not a story I often share," she said, slouching back in her seat, making herself appear vulnerable, making her companion feel in charge. "I've known this man since I was a child," she started the story with a low tone, the words chocking in her throat and she wasn't faking it, it had always been a hard story for her to share and she could not remember the last time she had shared it. "He was my best. . . my only friend. We've always been close, if not together and he's always supported me and helped me, he's always been there for me." He eyes involuntarily turned in the direction of Maric. "He served in the war and he saved my life, immediately after which he sacrificed himself, so that I, among many others, could escape with our lives."

She stopped. Her gaze dropping to the ground. She had avoided the crucial points of the story, like the fact that Maric was a jedi that he had killed enough sith to incriminate him even here on Manaan. Only one step remained and it would be the hardest, but she had to pull it off, for Maric's life may well be at stake. "I thought I'd never see him again," he voice was low again and barely audible. "Yet here he is, alive and well and. . ." she paused, for this part was truly hard for her to accept. "With no memory of me." Her eyes watered, but she made sure her counterpart wouldn't see that. She knew he'd try to calm her and she wouldn't be able to bare it. "Perhaps it's for the best. Perhaps he can live the rest of his days here. Where he would be safe. Perhaps leaving him live in peace would be easier than living with the thought and burden of his death."

For a moment her words sounded so sweet that she herself began believing them. But then she remembered that even here he wasn't safe. The only reason she had built that idea was so the sith wouldn't suspect her plan, or at least not immediately. She hoped she would have just enough time to set a team up and extract Maric from his planet. Perhaps then the jedi masters could tend to his mind and restore his memories, or perhaps he would regain them in time. Either way, the only thing that matter now was ensuring his safety.

 

[D.C.]

While she was speaking, it started. He started. Gradually, the lighting inside the room seemed to become weaker; the daylight outside seemed to fade. A strange, dark sensation enveloped all those inside the lobby and many and many-a looked round fearfully; suddenly most people had the funny feeling there was somebody standing behind their backs, perhaps with a knife aloft, ready to plunge the blade into their backs and keep twisting and twisting and twisting the knife, over and over again. It was a sensation of fear, of horror, something so dark that the shivers would start running down your spine, making you shudder with terror. It was suddenly as though you'd find yourself in a state of sleep paralysis: your mind was awake but your body still asleep, you couldn't move and, even though you were awake, you would still be dreaming, thus seeing the most terrible hallucinations, instilling the greatest fear in your heart, and there was no way out.

Yet it was only a feeling.

This mysterious energy seemed to come from anywhere, not necessarily from him, because he wasn't using the energy that was inside himself. He was in fact plucking the dark energy out of thin air, and draping it like a cloak over all the people he had selected. Including himself.

He slowly put down his glass of whisky, his hand shaking because of the conflicting emotions that were waging an epic war inside his mind, and then leaned toward Jaina. He fixed his eyes on hers, and then said in a low voice, "Does this world feel like a safe place? Do you truly suppose that Maric will be safe here? Jaina . . . nowhere is safe. I've tried to find a safe haven for myself, but in the end the beast got to me and dug its claws in my flesh, dragged me into its den and devoured me wholly. And yet . . ." He narrowed his eyes and seemed to study her face awhile, as if he was trying to peer into her thoughts (and for all we know, he may have actually been doing that), and then went on, "And yet you got it all backwards, Miss Jaina. Look at me and think about what you see. You see a Sith, but I'm not. I'm Mike Howard, I'm a runaway slave. I've been trying to escape the Dark Side and I've been trying to find a safe haven, but nobody believes me. Nobody is willing to come to my aid."

He then looked into the lobby and seemed to be looking out for someone. "I thought it would be Manaan, but I'm afraid I'm wrong. Can't you feel that?

"Jaina?

"Can't you feel that sensation?"

He turned his eyes back at her face, and wore an expression of intense shock on his own. The expression of somebody who had stared at the face of death and had only barely made it out alive.

"He's here," he whispered. "He's come for me."

That was when a tall, dark man entered the lobby, clad in a pitch-black robe and with a pair of crimson eyes glowing inside his hood.

"Help me."