Ask Hard Lessons

[Altair Din]

“Again.”

The girl on the ground spat blood on the mat, her Cathar opponent still up on his feet. The man that spoke was a training master at the Sith academy on Dromund Kaas. Today was practical combat day, and students in the same class were chosen at random to fight one another. Just like in real world combat, no consideration was given to gender, age, weight or race. This was a test of resourcefulness as much as it was a test of strength.

The girl was a much smaller human, the male Cathar bulky and towering over her. He gave a fanged grin as she wiped the blood off her face. He moved to attack again, but the girl rolled over to the side, using the Force to coil around the male’s tail to yank as hard as possible. This caused him to cry out loud and fall on the mat with a thud. The girl abruptly rolled over atop him and slammed her fist to his cheek.

The brutal fight continued, but Altair wasn’t watching. The half Devaronian was leaning against a wall, gazing out the window next to him. He was adorned in a simple black tank that revealed his golden tattoo and some athletic slacks. His pointed ears had a few small earrings lining the cartilage.

“If you get too cocky or take your eye off the prize even for a moment,” The gravely voice of the instructor rang out, “It’s a matter of life or death. And if you don’t survive, you were never worthy.”

There was a momentary pause during which Altair didn’t realize all eyes were on him because the instructor suddenly looked at him staring vacantly off at nothing.

“Of course, some of you may believe you are above such training practices and need to be reminded of your place,” Altair felt the Force coil around his neck. He coughed and sputtered as he was physically lifted up into the air and floated over closer to the other students. Once there, he was unceremoniously dropped to the ground, landing in a heap on the mat.

Altair grasped at his neck, heaving to catch his breath as he shakily rose to his feet. He could already see some of the other acolytes stifling their grins. His violet eyes narrowed to slits, but he said nothing, standing to his full height.

“Next pair,” The instructor called out to the class, “Tali, clean your blood off the mat,” He barked at the girl that was beginning to leave the mat after her fight with the Cathar.

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Cairo Kisufi]

Cairo was rather old for an Acolyte when he had joined the Sith. He had neither the extensive training nor the aristocratic bloodlines of many of his peers. To him, that was a blessing; most Sith, even children, had a truly insane bloodlust that clouded even the most casual of conversations. It made many of them, if not complete bores, completely unrelatable. He was just an average teenager, so he believed, locked in a society where all of his peers were forced to the highest level of competition at all times.

Such was the case on Dromuund Kaas. Cairo admitted he could use the experience, though; he was an average combatant, all things considered. If he wanted true power in the Empire, he needed the strength to take it. That would only come with training, and training could only come from the Sith.

Cairo winced at the sight of the brutal fighting. An involuntary response. He had seen such viciousness before, but typically, such struggles were borne out of desperation, a real life-or-death struggle. All this for practice? It unsettled him - revealing a weakness in his core that he would have to purge.

When Altair was choked by the instructor, Cairo was standing next to him, an acolyte amongst acolytes. Rather than snicker at the poor guy, Cairo offered him a pat on the back, hopefully discrete enough to avoid the attention of the severe master. At the call for the next pair, Cairo's hand shot up. "I'll go."

It was supposed to be random, so he should have waited his turn. Sith rarely make progress by waiting, though. He stepped into the arena clad in colorful shorts and a white tank top. His blue tattoos gleamed, covered in the sweat from the nervousness and heat building within the room. He ran a finger through his blonde dyed hair, feeling his curls once more before his opponent would step up to face him.

While he wasn't the strongest fighter, he was certainly tricky. He had studied enough Sith battles at this point to see that how their smartest combatants defeated the Jedi - not through outright power, always, but through subterfuge. Playing at their emotions. Guiding their actions. Exploiting openings. Today would be a test in his capacity to do the same.

@Sreeya

 

[Altair Din]

Altair glanced over when he felt the pat on his back, initially glaring at the boy as he took it as mockery. However, the acolyte’s focus was on the instructor as he volunteered himself for the next spar match. This was certainly a turn of events as most went to these hoping they would avoid being called on. If they got lucky, there was usually some awful injury that called for taking someone to the medbay and the rest of the session was canceled.

The Devaronian watched as the Morellian made his way over to the mat, violet gaze fixed on him. He had a quick internal dialogue with himself before he stepped forth on the mat as well. Instead of dealing with grilling from the instructor, he decided to be ahead by also volunteering. He came to a stop across his opponent, sliding a foot back to get into combat position.

When the instructor indicated, Altair was light on his feet, moving towards the Morellian. He watched for any sudden movements at first before closing in with a basic jab with his left fist headed towards the boy’s right side of the face. His right hand was up to guard his own face, elbow over his torso with the slight angle of his stance intended to make himself a smaller target.

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Cairo Kisufi]

He hadn't expected Altair to step in after his hazing from the instructor. Perhaps that was foolish - perhaps it was foolish to try and offer a small comfort to his fellow acolyte. What Cairo did next was even more foolish - he held out his fists, openly, so that the pair could touch knuckles. It was something he had seen famous fighters on Holovision do before huge fights, to signal respect to one another and to add honor to an otherwise brutal bout. But this was not the way of the Sith.

"Hey, good luck out there ma-" His words were cut off by a jab to the face. Cairo recoiled, surprised at the sudden appearance of pain into his body. Classmates snickered at the display, shut down only by the stern look of their teacher.

"This isn't some game, Acolyte. Fight like your life depends on it." He offered a curt nod, an acknowledgement, towards Altair. It was a subtle show of respect towards the Acolyte, recognition that the former Matukai understood the basic rules of war.

Cairo took a defensive position, raising his right hand to cover his face while stretching out his left hand further to paw away other jabs. While doing this, he took several steps back. He didn't want to be close enough for the half-Devaronian to get a mean right on him. Cairo was one step behind, as Altair had seized the momentum of the fight. Further, Altair had range on him - his longer arms and taller physique gave him a greater wingspan.

Cairo circled his opponent as he stepped back. He bent his knees to lower himself to his opponent's height. The fight had begun.

@Sreeya

 

[Altair Din]

Altair didn’t miss the way the other acolyte had attempted to have a greeting before fighting. Between that and the back pat, he was convinced the Morellian hadn’t meant anything in a mocking manner. Unfortunately, this didn’t stop the momentum of his jab which was already en route. He felt his fist collide with the other boy’s face, sending him reeling. Altair could already hear the instructor beginning to talk, along with the very pleased look on his face.

The next sequence of events happened before anyone could react. While Cairo was still reeling and slightly hunched from the punch, Altair lunged forth. He planted one hand on Cairo’s right shoulder and sprang off, accelerating his movements with the Force as he lunged directly past him. He used Cairo as a leveraged springboard to send himself sailing through the air behind him.

The Devaronian lowered his head slightly as he pushed off Cairo and flew at the instructor like a honed missile. There was a loud and sick crunch as his extremely hard and horned head slammed directly into the face of the Sith. The instructor was sent toppling backwards to the ground, his nose shattered and blood and tears running down his face. He was dazed and Altair used that moment to quickly roll off and get back to his feet.

“WHAT THE-”

“EYE ON THE PRIZE AT ALL TIMES!” Altair shouted at the top of his lungs in a surprisingly accurate tone imitating the instructor.

The rest of the class was dead silent. The Devaronian walked back towards the Morellian, closing his fingers into a fist to knock against his knuckles, “No hard feelings, man.”

The instructor was quickly recovering and Altair knew he was in deep shit.

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Cairo Kisufi]

This was an unexpected turn, but certainly a welcome one. Cairo, completely caught by surprise, caught himself before he completely fell over. He spun around and realized what Altair was about to do. An impish grin crawled across his face, and he used a meager Force Push on Altair's back to accelerate his lunge.

When the instructor fell, Cairo doubled over with laughter, tears forming in his eyes. The rest of the class was shaken - the impropriety of it all was absolutely scandalous. Some joined in with a chuckle, others ran outside to find a higher authority to punish the ne'erdowells, but the bulk of acolytes remained in a stunned silence. Cairo loved it.

He met Altair's fist bump as he regained his composure, tears forming down his eyes. The instructor was starting to come to, though; this class was about to get a whole lot worse. Deliverance came in the form of a janitor droid pushing a mop bucket of dirty water, who happened to be walking by as the incident happened. "Wait, bro, watch this..." Normally, Force Pulling such a finite object would have been quite difficult for Cairo. In this moment, he was so at ease, and yet, so fired up, that his efforts were smooth.

Moving both his hands, he pulled the mop bucket away from the droid and flung it at the instructors face. Much of the water spilled out of the bucket as it spun through the air, but it landed resoundingly on his head, blocking his vision briefly and sending . "Yeah! Fuck you, old man!" Cairo spit on the ground as he yelled this.

Having now escalated Altair's assault on the instructor, he patted his pupil on the shoulder once more. "Let's get out of here." Without another word, Cairo grabbed his black running sneakers, hastily putting them on as he sprinted out the hall into the rest of the academy. His eye was keen for the quickest exit of the building, and he had been in enough trouble that he generally knew how to wriggle out of any building.

@Sreeya

 

[Altair Din]

Altair’s violet eyes widened in surprise as the Morellian gleefully announced the catchphrase that usually preceded something very stupid about to happen. And true to form, he watched as the acolyte moved almost in slow motion to pick up the bucket. The Devaronian’s jaw was slack, and he could see the sea of faces in the room all with their eyes quickly growing wide as they watched what was about to happen.

He snapped back to reality with the sound of the splash and scrambling from the instructor. Altair bolted to the side, quickly putting his sneakers on. He hastily hopped around on one foot, almost tripping over himself as he scrambled out behind the other boy. He could hear the instructor screeching in the background, and he was pretty sure he heard a crash. He wouldn’t be surprised if one of the laughing students was sent sailing through a window. The other students also fled the room, not wanting to stick around for the wrath of the teacher.

The hallway ahead of them was packed with students released from their classes. Altair looked over his shoulder and he could see the instructor stumbling out into the hallway, covering his bleeding nose and with his clothes drenched. The Devaronian knew they were within range of him using the Force, and they had to break line of sight.

Without warning, he grabbed the Morellian by the fabric of his top and yanked him into a side room that looked empty at first glance. Altair ducked behind the side of the doorway, watching the crowds pass in the hallway. He heaved a sigh of relief, glancing at the acolyte, “Thank god we found an empty classroom…” He shook his head, but then grinned wide to reveal pointed teeth, “Did you see the look on his face? Shit man, you’re all right,” He playfully nudged the Morellian on the shoulder, “I’m Altair.”

It was then that he decided to look ahead at the rest of the room. Altair whipped his head around to spot a sight that caused him to make a noise that vaguely sounded like a bunny being stepped on. Violet eyes were wide in shock and he was rooted in place.

Seated on the floor at the opposite end of the room was a Sith Lord. Not just any Sith Lord, but an infamous one. He was clearly in the middle of meditating, the legendary helmet faced forward with the visor staring right at the acolytes. If Darth Raze noticed the two idiots stumbling into the room, he certainly made no acknowledgement of it. The Devaronian thought back to his loud babbling.

Altair suddenly forgot how to speak as he turned towards the Morellian and began to physically scooch him out towards the exit. He couldn’t bolt out of that room fast enough.

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Cairo Kisufi]

Cairo was again doubled over with Altair. The pair laughed like thieves after a successful heist - as the adrenaline wore down, they realized that they had gotten away with it. "See his look? Man, I was too busy hurrying my ass up outta there!" He chuckled again, his voice quieting "Altair? I'm Cairo. Gotta tell you bro, that was a nasty jab. Where'd you learn to f...fuck." His voice dropped low as he realized that Lord Raze, the merciless Sith Lord whose battles Cairo had been studying, was right in front of him.

Raze never seemed like a friendly sort, and Cairo imagined interrupting a Dark Lord's meditation was a bad way to meet his idol. Being a stupid teenaged boy, he wanted to seize the moment. As Altair's hulking form dragged Cairo out the room, the smaller boy, still stunned into silence, pulled out his data phone to snap a picture. With the rush of the moment, it would like be little more than a blurry mess in a dark room. But he could proudly display that blurry mess to his friends (not that he had any), showing off the time he met the Darth Raze.

Not met. Interrupted.

This plan had a large fault in it - it relied on him leaving alive. After trying to take his picture, he would try to silently hurry behind Altair, back into the hallway.

If the pair made it outside unharmed, then Cairo would let out the breath he had been holding in for the last minute. "Bro," he would whisper conspiratorially. "Was that Darth Raze?"

@Sreeya

 

[Altair Din]

Cairo had turned into an immobile brick wall in his starstruck state. Altair shoved and pushed with all his might, too afraid to even look to see if Raze was getting up to smite them into oblivion. Did the guy even need to get up to do that? As if things weren’t bad enough, Cairo had the bright idea to whip out his dataphone in an attempt to snap photos like a fanatic groupie. Altair grunted as he finally shoved him through the door.

“Ehehe forgive us Darth Lord Raze Mister Sir!” He rattled off awkwardly before closing the door behind him. The quick glance back showed the Sith Lord hadn’t even budged. Was he asleep?! Altair exhaled in relief once they were outside the room. He used the moment to turn to glare at the Morellian.

“Of course it was, dumbass!” He hissed, “And you had to take a picture with the flash on. I thought he was gonna Sheev spin his ass across the room to slice us up!”

Altair blinked a few times, “Hold up,” He quickly grabbed the dataphone in Cairo’s hand to tilt it his way. He leaned in to see if a picture was taken after all, which would make that near death experience worth it. It was blurry, but thanks to the flash, one could make out the unmistakable helmet of Darth Raze in the background. Unfortunately half the picture was blocked by one of Altair’s horns and one angry, violet eyeball from the Devaronian trying to shove Cairo out.

“Well,” Altair remarked, “At least we can say I met Darth Raze,” He snickered at the ridiculous photo.

“Din! Kisufi!” A woman barked as she was approaching them in the hallway. Altair immediately stood at attention, nudging for Cairo to put the selfie away. He already knew they were in trouble when the stern Cathar woman came to a stop before them, hands clasped behind her back. Yellow eyes glared at both boys and Altair suddenly felt as if he were an inch tall.

“Your little episode at the sparring session today was reported,” She said sternly, “The two of you have been assigned a Code Red disciplinary mission. You are to report to the lower levels of the city and obtain intelligence from an abandoned AMS quarantine center that may still be overrun.”

Altair’s jaw dropped. Code Red missions were reserved for terrible punishments and were generally suicide missions. People sent on them usually came back about half the time.

“But that’s-”

“That will be all,” The woman said curtly, “Mission details will be sent to your datapads.”

The woman was long gone before Altair picked his jaw up off the floor. He looked vacantly at Cairo, blinking a few times. He didn’t even have a quip to make. He just stared at the other boy, contemplating his horrible luck.

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Cairo Kisufi]

Cairo groaned when he realized he wasn't even in-frame in the picture. All that for a stupid picture that he wasn't even in. It was probably for the best - he imagined that Darth Raze would skin whoever took a picture of him completely unawares.

That motherfucker was so badass. Cairo didn't want to be just like him, but he couldn't deny the appeal: Raze had the power to do just about whatever he wanted in the Empire and commanded a great deal of respect, fear, and adulation as a result. With the same amount of power, Cairo imagined the life he could carve for himself. For the subjects of the Empire...

He was pulled back to reality by their suicide mission. He'd never been sent on a Code Red - maybe a Code Orange, at the most severe; a mission dangerous enough that Acolytes are carefully encouraged to follow the rules. This one would be a true, harrowing test: It was also, like most things in this Empire, likely a test of their skills. Altair had ambushed and injured a man who should have been stronger than the entire room of Acolytes he was training. Cairo noticed it, too; just how strong was the body of the half-Devaronian?

How strong could he become with proper training?

It was a question that would have to wait for later. Cairo and Altair locked eyes - both fully aware of the horrid consequences of failure. Cairo had little more than a gym bag and sweats available for this mission. "Fuck this shit, man. I'm so fucking tired of these bureaucrats playing with my life." He followed his complaint with a long groan, as he tried to think of an option.

"She said she was gonna send it to our data pad. Let's stop by the armory, see if this little 'code red' would qualify as a requisitions order for some safety gear." He tapped his data pad as he waited for the orders to roll in. In the meantime, he would start walking in the direction of said armory, gesturing for his comrade to follow.

@Sreeya

 

[Altair Din]

Altair’s eyes widened as Cairo suggested the severity of the Code warranting some better gear, “Oh dude! You think they’ll let us get some thermal dets? Maybe some sick blasters or-” And he rambled the entire walk over, listing off a complete armory catalogue. When they arrived, there was a moody orcolan sitting at a desk checking people in with rows of weapons and different types of ammo behind him.

The Devaronian glanced down at his datapad, “Proceed to District 12, municipal office, former quarantine facility, obtain Officer Byron’s report, yadda yadda, blah blah…” He paused, “Caution…reports of AMS variant. Vaccines…ineffective.” He looked at Cairo, “Oh what the fuck? They should’ve just lobbed our heads off right here.”

He moodily showed the mission to the Orcolan. The man read it and got a cruel, satisfied grin on his face as he flashed a tusked smile. He punched a few buttons and a set of doors opened to the restricted section. The orcolan gave another cruel grin.

“Good luck,” He said as the boys walked off. Altair could hear the man guffawing in the background.

“Damn, what do they put in the job description to hire these teachers and receptionists?” Altair pondered out loud, “Must have unsettling smile, must be a fucking weirdo, must pop a boner from the misery of others…” He shook his head, still moody from the mission.

While it wasn’t his nature to wear armor, he knew with AMS potential they had to cover up as much as possible. There were several full suits of armor lined up in a row and Altair walked through them, looking for anything that would catch his eye. He shook his head, “I’m so fucked, dude. Ain’t no helmet gonna fit my head,” He looked at Cairo, “Dude, what if some zombie granny jumps at me and bites me on the nose? What a way to go, man.”

Altair began to look in the section that had armor made for species with braintails and other head protrusions. He talked to Cairo as he looked, “Where you from, dude? Always been in the academy?” He knew a lot of Sith that were indoctrinated in it from the beginning. Raze was one of them, apparently a Sith since birth. That explained a lot. They were usually tough, but also dysfunctional. Though Cairo seemed pretty okay so far.

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Cairo Kisufi]

Cairo followed Altair as he listed nearly every weapon in galactic existence with glee. He couldn't match the teens sheer knowledge of weapons, but he certainly pretended that he could. Cairo made a mental note to learn more about the more interesting and unique blasters that.

He laughed at Altair's implied death scenario, as he could almost perfectly picture an elderly woman throwing aside her walker to leap at the acolyte's throat. "Those horns are a fucking asset, man. Anyone gets too close?" Cairo put his pointer fingers above his ears, wiggling them in a poor imitation of Altair's horns. "You just rip 'em up with these, huh?" He laughed, but the other Acolyte brought up some serious concerns. A vaccine-resistant strain of AMS was damn near a death sentence. He would need to be heavily armed.

"You think they got any of those BBQ droids here?" As he looked through the racks, he found a weapon distinctive to his people, the Morellians. He thought to the moments when his mother would describe their heritage, their homeworld, that they had never visited. She had always kept a pearl-handled .48 on whatever ship they found or stole. She said it was his father's. He had never believed it, but always took the gun to be a good sign. He gingerly grabbed the slug pistol and stuffed it into his waistband.

"Hey, dude, can you get a shot of this? Just with like the fit and the slug thrower I look tough." He took out his data phone and handed it to Altair. "Wait, lemme..." He grabbed a black-and-brown dyed bucket hat. "There we go." He flashed a peace sign with one hand and used the other to do a stupid trick with the Force. The gun floated out of his waistband to the middle of the air, appearing to float by its own power. He thought it would make a funny picture.

"I've got you if you need any bro, they gotta have some fire pics of us for our funerals." He smiled, not quite all the way to his eyes. He would try to keep the mood light; no sense in worrying about the upcoming suicide mission.

"Me? Man, I'm from all over. Rolling stone, no moss. Not like these stuck-up bitches born princes and princesses." He let out a chuckle. He had been raised on the road by his con artist mother, where he and her pretended to be Sith. It was a story he was particularly proud of, having earned him the derision of his peers in the Sith Academy. Some had bloodlines stretching far back to the ancient Sith of Korriban. Cairo had fried pickle stands and a deep appreciation for the art of a good scam. They were...vastly different lives to lead. "How 'bout you, bro?" By the way the pair acted, Cairo imagined Altair was a new-ish member of the Sith Empire.

Ooh, shit. This whole day was looking worse and worse. They'd have to fight fucking zombies without the vaccine? Talk about a bullshit assignment. From a pocket in his jacket, Cairo produced a loosely-rolled cigarra. If there was gonna be some bullshit, might as well be stoned the whole time. "You wanna smoke some Marcan herb with me?"

@Sreeya

 

[Altair Din]

“We need a permission slip from a Sith Lord to take one of the restricted droids with us,” Altair said with a groan. He found a few pieces of armor and began to put them on, though the helmet was still a challenge. When Cairo asked for pictures, the Devaronian laughed and obliged, even going as far as to crouch down on the ground to get a cool action shot. He rose up and handed his own dataphone to Cairo. Altair made a blaster float between his hands to look menacing.

He walked over and grabbed a vibroblade, pointing it at Cairo, “Avast, ye!” He yelled out from a famous, old holomovie. Altair bounced around on his feet, pretending to engage Cairo in a swashbuckling duel and circling around him. He raised a blaster in his hand, pointing it at the Morellian, “I’m an Imperial agent! Surrender now! Pew pew pew!” Except his blaster pointed to everywhere but Cairo as he fired off his ‘shots’.

Altair finally stopped fooling around, finding a helmet that was made for a species with head protrusions that would fit his head. The Devaronian turned to Cairo after he spoke, “Pretty lowkey, honestly,” He said with a slight chuckle, “Born and raised on a farm on Bandomeer. Got three older brothers and a little sister,” He shrugged, “I ain’t got no sob story or tragic background. Guess I don’t fit the profile of a normal Sith, eh?” Altair grinned, “I grew up practicing Matukai. Know what that is?”

The Devaronian lit up as Cairo offered some herbs, “Hell yeah! Better be potent though, or it’ll wear off in a flash for me,” He glanced down at his chrono, “We got a few hours and my room is away from the main levels. Let’s go.”

Moments later, they would find themselves in Altair’s dorm room. His roommate was off on a mission, which meant the two acolytes had it to themselves. The Devaronian was seated in his plush chair, lazily strumming a guitar in his arms. His eyes were bleary and red around the violet, and he was in a good place.

“Duuuude who do you think knocked up the Empress?” Altair asked after a moment of silence, “Like. Who the fuck would be brave enough to tap that? I heard Nightsisters eat the men after mating,” He said very solemnly, suddenly very sad.

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Cairo Kisufi]

Pics were taken and likely uploaded to the relevant Imperial social media holosites. Cairo requisitioned for himself a set of Imperial Assault Corps armor, along with a generous heaping of thermal detonators, a blaster, and a vibroknife. Feeling adequately prepared for the suicidal mission ahead of them, Cairo would follow Altair to his room, feelings of anxiety towards the coming assignment beginning to grow.

"Matukai?" He had heard that Gareth Gin, the Zaa Fenn's genocidal superstar, had once been a 'Matukai.' Was it a warrior order? A type of martial arts? "I've heard of it, but only like...vague shit. Is that where you learned that jab of yours?" He playfully squared up and tapped Altair's shoulder with his fist. "What was Matukai like? Like a group of people, or just something you studied on your own?"

As they made it to Altair's room, he took a look around his dorm room. Cairo wasn't actually enrolled at the Academy on Dromuund Kaas, he had just transferred there, briefly, during his training. He heard downright nasty things about life in the Dromuund Kaas dormitories, and its cruel residence life authorities.

But those authorities weren't here right now. Cairo snapped his fingers, creating a flashy spark of lightning that he used to light the joint. He took a long puff before he passed it to Altair, lazily blowing smoke from his mouth. "Bro...I've got the same question. Have you ever met her? She just seems like," He shrugged his shoulders. "An enigma?"

As Cairo was beginning his journey into political consciousness, the Empress's baby raised a number of questions about longevity and succession within the Empire. He didn't really have any answers, or things to discuss, outside of this vague feeling of unease. "Maybe it was, like, Palpatine or something. Didn't he make his own clone-babies and weird shit like that?"

@Sreeya

 

[Altair Din]

Altair chuckled as Cairo nudged his shoulder, “Nah, the jab is all me bruh. I’ve been wanting to jack up that fucker for a while now,” He grimaced a bit, “Now let’s see if we survive this mission,” He paused for a moment as Cairo lit the joint and took a hit. Altair took it from him and took a drag, holding it in for a bit before releasing. He coughed a few times before handing it back, “Matukai is basically using the Force to enhance the body,” He looked at Cairo, “It sounds like bullshit spiritual stuff, but I believe in it still. My whole village practiced it. We don’t carry sabers and use wan-shen instead. Our specialty is training in close combat and using the Force to buff ourselves, basically. My village didn’t believe in Jedi or Sith and practiced their own philosophy. It worked, but kinda limiting in some ways,” He took the joint back and took another drag before handing it back, “Ma wasn’t too happy when I said I wanted to set out and do something else,” He shrugged vaguely, “So here I am. I can show you some moves though,” He grinned a fanged grin at Cairo.

The Devaronian shook his head, “I didn’t meet the Empress, nah. I hear those parties get really fucked up and people die,” He idly strummed his guitar, “Fuck, we don’t need more weird clone babies and shit. How long before she looks like a melted shoe, you think?”

Altair lit up slightly and turned to face Cairo, “Bro, listen to this and tell me what you think. I been writing for some time,” He began by slapping against the body of the guitar to build up a rhythm and then began to pluck away at his guitar to play the song. He alternated between the slap rhythm and playing, a unique blend of foreign music that wasn’t very common in Basic speaking worlds. He bobbed a bit as he played, clearly passionate about this. His fingers moved effortlessly across the strings, and Cairo would notice he was plucking with his elongated claw-like nails instead of a pick. The result was rapid plucking and quicker shifts between chords. Through it all, he threw in slapping the body of the guitar with the side of his palm or his thumb.


@Fine Dining Set

 

[Cairo Kisufi]

"I don't think it's bullshit, man." Was that true? Cairo had never developed a spiritual connection to the Force. No, that had been hampered by his mother, who channeled Cairo's gift into petty theft, trickery, and deception. At times, he thought 'The Force,' was a great ruse to describe telepathic abilities. Abilities many people could use. But at other times, he felt...connected. When he was most joyful, most angry, most proud, he felt the calling of a higher power. He felt the tingling of the Force, then. It was something greater, but perhaps he just hadn't figured it out yet. "That's dope. They just make y'all hard as fuck, huh?" Cairo chuckled. Imbuing the Force into one's own body, turning the body into a vessel and a weapon. That sounded like intense training.

"Bro, I heard. The Sith Lords are some fucking freaks." 'Freaks' with a ton of power and command over a wide area of the galaxy. "Over-under? Five years. That baby's gonna eat her up." To be a child born to the Empress. It was a massive responsibility. He imagined the Empress would have her work cut out for her, raising a newborn, an infant, in a galaxy and Empire full of enemies.

As Cairo smoked, he felt his stress literally step off of his back. He unwound, lying back into Altair's dingy twin-XL bed as he intermittently puffed clouds of smoke and listened. Cairo was surprised - Altair was, evidently, a young man of many talents. A passionate kind of man, obviously. With a kind heart. These were the kinds of people that should rule the Sith.

Cairo began to tap along to the beat, slowly picking it up. After a moment, he was hand drumming on the wooden foot of the bed, adding a consistent, rhythmic, woody tone to Altair's light, quick plucking of the guitar. The pair together - stoned - were in control of the melody as they played. Minutes passed, the pair just lost in their music-making.

He checked his chrono. It would soon be time to go. "Where'd you learn to play like that, my guy? That was so dope." He rose to his feet. "Helped me forget that we're about to fuckin' die. You ready to move, or nah?"

@Sreeya

 

[Altair Din]

Altair grinned at Cairo as he joined in by slapping to the beat on the foot of the bed. He kept playing, impressed by how quickly the Morellian picked up the rhythm. He finished up and gave a fanged grin, “Bro that was sick! I should set you up with some hand drums and we can busk on Coruscant or Indupar!” He was positively delighted at the prospect, thinking of all the extra tip money. The Devaronian was vacantly staring off at nothing when Cairo reminded him of the mission.

“Fuck, you right,” He jumped off his seat, “Let’s go, man.”

—

Not too long later, Altair met Cairo at the rendezvous spot. He told Cairo to go ahead since he needed to ‘arrange for a helmet’. The meeting point was the beginning of the undercity districts that were largely abandoned. After a moment, Altair appeared. On his face was two different sides of crotch plates from different sets of armor crudely pieced together with duct tape wrapped around his head. It looked absolutely ridiculous and squished his nose.

“I don’t wanna fucking hear about it,” He declared with a nasally voice, blinking above the curves allowed for thighs. His giant horns, of course, were proudly on display still since nothing could contain them. The rest of him was covered in armor, and he had his wan-shen.

Altair looked ahead at the empty street, “This place is creepy as shit,” He said quietly as he began to walk ahead. He had a datapad with him, the map suggesting the building in question was just half a mile ahead of them. There were abandoned buildings and stores all around them, an eerie chill in the air. It was also oddly quiet, the only sounds were those of the two boys walking. Altair kept looking around, feeling decidedly uncomfortable already.

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Cairo Kisufi]

Cairo was stoned. Some would say, too stoned for an important, potentially deadly, mission. Cairo would say that he would rather die with a joint in his mouth than die sober. He played with his new blaster pistol, nervously, as he wondered silently if one could hotbox inside the Assault Corps armor he wore.

SONG
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At Altair's mention of his crotch-helmet, Cairo burst into laughter. "Bruh," he said, choking on his chuckles, "Once we get out of here, I'm a tell the Empress to make some horn-ready helmets." He smiled, pulling his mask off just so Altair could appreciate it. Cairo hadn't made many friends in the Sith Empire. Frankly, he hadn't made any. An intense regimen of training combined with his general loathing of the Sith personalities drove him away from most. But Altair was different - evidenced from the moment they met. Something greater had drawn them together.

"Yeah, it's fucked. This AMS thing, huh? Can't seem to go away." Cairo felt the same chill Altair did. It only served to deepen his herb-induced paranoia. There could be fucking zombies at any corner, coming to get them. They were so fucked. He decided to distract with a little more idle chat. "Do you have a lightsaber yet, man?" The wan-shen looked like it could be the perfect weapon for this excursion. It had more than enough reach to deal with any of the zombies that would come their way. Honestly, his own red blade felt inadequate in comparison.

"Or is there like a place you can shove in one of those crystals in there?"

@Sreeya

 

[Altair Din]

The herbs were rapidly filtering through Altair’s system and he wasn’t entirely thrilled about that. By the sound of Cairo’s giggles, he could tell the dude was still delightfully baked. He shook his head as Cairo laughed, “Yea yea fuck you,” He said, though it was clear he was grinning as he said so. Altair marveled at the mask, mopey about his own shitty helmet situation. That was when he noticed that Cairo still had a joint on him. Altair casually wiped it, lighting it as he took a long drag by awkwardly reaching under his crotch plate mask. He exhaled and felt immediately better.

“Nah I ain’t got a saber,” He said before he handed the joint back to Cairo, “Probably never gonna get one. Wan-Shen’s all I need. It can go toe to toe with sabers and fuck shit up just the same,” Altair shrugged. Matukai practitioners did just fine without ever touching a saber, even when they joined the Jedi Order in the past.

After a while, a sound interrupted the silence. It was, in fact, Altair’s stomach, “Ughhhhhh I didn’t get to grab snacks before we left. I’m fucking dying bro,” He complained, looking over to the side and spotting what looked like an apartment building, “There’s gotta be some canned foods in there,” He mumbled before he promptly began making his way over.

The building was eerie and abandoned, no light inside the complex. It was illuminated solely by whatever rays of sunlight shined in through the windows. Altair couldn’t hear anything, even though the dusty and old mossy smell was there. He went up a set of stairs and listened against an apartment door. Not hearing anything, he tried the door, not surprised to find it unlocked. When AMS hit, most people left in a hurry.

Altair grimaced at a stench from inside the apartment, but he made his way towards the kitchen to look in the pantry. On his way, he found a note on the counter. Curious, he picked it up and stared at it, reading it aloud for Cairo.

“Day 10. I don’t know where you are, Atin. Lily and me are so scared. I’ve stocked up on food to feed her, but everyone else is trying to leave the complex since the situation is getting so bad. It has been ten days since you’ve been sent to the administrative centers. They stopped telling us anything. I’m going to keep waiting for you. We are going to keep waiting. Me and Lily know you will come back for us. Love, Mina and Lily.”

Altair stared at the letter, feeling a sickness in his stomach that had nothing to do with hunger. He gazed from the kitchen and across the apartment towards where the door at the end of the hallway was open. The Devaronian slowly began to walk towards it, feeling a sense of dread grow with each step. He could see the wallpaper in the room, the walls pink with flowers and unicorns all over the room. He felt a lump in his throat, remembering his own little sister’s room back home.

He didn’t know what possessed him to step inside, but he did. He glanced to the side to see a woman slumped on the floor against a wall. There was a blaster wound through her head. The same was the case for a toddler in her arms. Both appeared to be half eaten by infected. The blaster pistol was loosely held in the woman's hand.

Altair stared at the sight for a moment, feeling sick. He could only watch for so long before he turned away and stepped back into the hallway. He exhaled, staring down at the note.

“Something happened here..” He said very quietly, staring at the words ‘administrative centers’. That was the objective of their mission. Why were the Sith sending them there?

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Cairo Kisufi]

Cairo walked alongside Altair, activating his helmet's flashlights to provide a small reprieve from the crushing darkness of the abandoned cityscape. Canned foods in this fucked up environment sounded like a horrible idea, but Cairo could recognize and respect the awesome wrath of the munchies after a doobie. Cairo checked out the remains of the decomposing apartment as Altair read the letter aloud.

The stench's origin was soon found. The maggot-strewn corpses, half-devoured, forced Cairo's helmet off; he vomited right on the carpet, in front of the embracing bodies. Cairo had seen his share of violence, of murder, but this was a sight that was sobering. He put his helmet back on, forcing himself to see these sad bodies not as people but as a mere collection of shapes. Harsh edges, a unique palette of colors, these things could be rationalized and accepted by the mind.

"Yeah, you think? Damn." He looked down the hallway, certain that this family's experiences were just one of many. A darkness hung over him as he stepped through the hallway, urging Altair to follow him. If just one apartment gave them this window into what happened here, perhaps another would help explain even more.

He came to an apartment that seemed interesting. Its blast door had been sealed shut, joined by a pair of corpses that were last scratching at the door. Their fingernails had scraped off entirely, leaving bloody stump marks at the food of the door. Just shapes, colors, edges, circles. He waved his hand to push the corpses arms away from the door as he stepped in front of it. The Morellian ignited his lightsaber, gripping it with both hands to slice an Altair-sized hole in the door, and stepped through.

The apartment smelled sterile, a relief from the sweet stench of rot that covered the other apartments. It was empty, save bags and furniture strewn across the rooms. "Someone left in a hurry..." He looked back at the corpses. Were they AMS victims? The original inhabitants? Someone else? There were only more questions.

"See anything that mentions 'Officer Byron'?" It was their report they were looking for. Although they weren't yet at the administrative center where the report would be, but this had to be connected. What clues could they find?

@Sreeya