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The Jedi, Sith and Weapon fought as the Pyke watched and listened with one eye on the machine and one eye on those three. This feud between Director Qybert and Doctor Brian evidently became a game of cat and mouse; two sleuths in a race to break the bounds of time and space. Qybert left a...

Curiosity killed the cat, they said, but a Pyke was not a cat. He was, at this moment, a snake in the grass as he sat. A Togruta had opened her shell, gone down a well, and a Human had gone in after her. Her shell was a glass dome within a larger chamber, she opened it, entered an elevator...

Where once this room was dim, light illuminated it, bathed its shadows in the glow of red, blue, green and purple. The light moved right side up, upside down, in between, in circles, circles so round. And loud when they clashed. Light like lightning. Lightsabers. They whirred and curved, and...

Strange things became stranger things. As curious as this character was, this Not!Jedi / Not!Sith, whatever he was, Cul Laaster was already losing interest in his speech. He just sounded like another idealist. Or a lunatic. His spiel was indicative of the very Jedi and Sith he tended to...

Corridor. Door. Floor. Forward. Apparently one key functioned as much and more as the other anyway but, whatever, the key of this scene was Cul Laaster taking whatever came his way, claiming what the universe had promised him. As was his right. As a man. As a Pyke. Inside the chamber, darkness...

It was enthralling, if a Pyke is being honest with himself, and he always is. To Cheriss? That was different. Yet he was no mad scientist. What seduced him in that chamber wasn’t the macabre mutant but what it represented. Power. Profit. “Somebody could easily make a fortune from you…” Laaster...

Well, if Cheriss didn’t trust Cul, it definitely wasn’t a mistake to make. Whatever he sincerely relayed over his earpiece comlink, he kept his secrets too. There was, most truly, a game to be played and he could relate. “That’s a secret, love.” “Ha. As is mine. We are of the same mind. Of...

So, Cheriss had discovered the Hybrids. That made sense given her area of exploration was the Cells, only Cul did wonder whether they would be located here to begin with. Were there other levels? Floors beneath floors beneath floors? One could dig so deep in a moon like this without having to...

Even as he watched seconds tick on in this realm of deranged science, moments tock on this galactic clock of crazed experiments, Cul Laaster was as curious as concerned. Curious about the foundation, the history, the purpose, the potential, the results of all of it, all of it. Concerned over...

So, the Sith had decided they should split up. The Pyke had long since realized once Cheriss made up her mind that was it. Furthermore, he had been weighing the same option and there was no point in an argument. The last thing he needed was for the darksider’s emotions to get the better of her...

A Pyke had patience. Sometimes patience was a forced habit for some. A practiced practice. Not for him. He actually liked it. Like in this instance. Instead of lifting his finger again, Cul kept quiet and politely stood with his hands behind his back, letting Cheriss do the work and she did...

Ironic. Above, despite his alias as a research assistant, other researchers had certainly given Cul Laaster the once-over given his species as a Pyke. However, outside this elevator, he could have sworn that the look in these guards’ eyes were conversely toward his alias as an investor rather...

In the elevator, the Sith and the Pyke stood side by side. Maybe there was a poetic line in there somewhere but Cul Laaster didn’t have the mind to rationalize. He knew, once the doors opened, once they step out of the elevator, even as temporary allies or whatever, their game they played...

Silence. That’s what followed the Pyke amid the footsteps from someone coming in the distance. He was quiet, composed, motionless. Granted, that was as much because of his nature, the strength of Cul Laaster’s own character, with or without the blaster. Yet it was just as much because of the...

The Sith sat. The Pyke didn’t. He just stood in silence, hands clasped behind back, behind his companion, only they weren’t really companions to begin with. He is ever the serpent, despite the serpent in his presence. Cul Laaster was certain she could sense him at her back, and that much was...

Vor Akrim. Captain of the Black Kite. A privateer ship. They were often even feared by pirates. He had captained a crew of Pykes and the Pykes meant serious business to begin with. Dreaded. Some said a Hutt would kill you and your family if you crossed it. For a Pyke, not much different. Except...

Witness. The word did fit. Vaz had witnessed his own life and death. Cul had witnessed his demise and end. No, he had ended the former politician, the Patitite, himself and, if there was a hell, then Vaz Du would remember Cul Laaster as well. Witnesses, however, would not be left. In this...

A deathstick. How fitting for this occasion. The Pyke caught it, but didn’t light it like his counterpart did, and pocketed it. Didn’t have a reason or a need for it. He was composed, alive, not like his opponent, whose life was his at that moment. So the Pyke declined the lighter, offered his...

The Patitite spoke and the Pyke listened. Silent. Lifeless. Gazing with his violet eyes in the quiet, still nothingness that was this maintenance chamber. Vaz gave names, Cul filed them away, and whether he recognized them already was another story entirely. The ex-senator claimed that he had...

'Why' was the right question, yet flippancy was expected. Vaz spoke. Cul listened. “Cute.” In a deadpan tone, unamused. He might blow off the Patitite's toes for his insolence but the bolt would just make his whole body explode. Though, the Patitite had no idea about the kind of Pyke he was...