Ask Seize the Means

[Nakoa Singh]

New Absolon was a mess of a place, especially for the Mid Rim. Their society was firmly split between three classes of people. The Workers, the poor laborers, cogs in the machine of industry. The Civilized, nobles and wealthy land-owners, kings of industry, reaping the benefits of the Workers. The Absolutes, the totalitarian ruling class that controlled it all.

And for the past decade, the Workers had rebelled. Poor living conditions, poorer pay, stolen labor. They lacked money or resources, in a grander scale, when compared to their enemy. But there were many. Very many, in all levels of society that made things run as they were meant to. Ironically, the Civilized and Absolutes had hired such mercenaries as Black Sun to hammer the rebels down. Through subterfuge and desperation, the Workers hired Apex.

For the last decade, the war hadn't really gone well for either side. It was a steady grind and the planet was slowly burning down, like forge coals exposed to wind. Both sides were rapidly exhausting manpower and resources. What more could they do?

Or, more accurately, what would Apex do?

Nakoa was bent over an aging holotable, caked with dust and debris except for the display screen he'd thoroughly cleaned for the clearest possible hologram. Amber-golds stared into the capital city before them, the locations of strike and sabotage cells, the homes of Civilized homes and bunkers, the Fortress of the Absolute. He'd yet to decide on the quickest way to end things in the Workers' favor. It frustrated him, despite only having been on the world with Arla for at most a day.

Some part of him reminded him he should probably rest, but he didn't feel like it. He could rest when he figured something out.

@Phoenix

Spoiler: Dice Roll

War Status: 45/100, about even.

 

[Arla]

If Arla had been asked who they were going to be hired by on New Apsolon, she'd definitely have guessed that it was the Civilized, but that wasn't how things had turned out. As it turned out, the Workers had scraped together all the meager money they had in order to hire the contracting company, and with Black Sun mercs on the other side, Arla knew that this wasn't going to be an easy job.

Arla stepped into the room to find Nakoa already hunched over the consoles and holotables to look for a way to break the fighting and end it quickly.

Hard at work already, I see, she said, taking a sip of her tea as the door closed behind her.

Find any obvious points of access? she asked. Apex had brought along several hundred men for this operation, but ultimately, the strength of the company had always been - and likely would always be - the fact that they could move and maneuver better than anyone else. They were specialists: scalpels instead of hammers. Black Sun and its men were hammers and to hammers everything looked like nails.

The fort appears solid. I would prefer to avoid a frontal attack if we can help it, she said. She wasn't a particularly "compassionate" person, but losing her troops was bad for everyone involved. Not that Nakoa didn't know that already.

How has your Battle Meditation work been coming along? she asked, knowing it might become more relevant here than ever before.

 

[Nakoa Singh]

His head tilted as Arla entered. Like he was listening to the soft sounds of her arrival in the empty air before she spoke. Although she'd been exempt from his empathic perception for some time now, Nakoa always recognized her without even having to look. Sharp eyes turned to look a moment after she spoke, dangerous and analytical from focusing on their work.

They softened into something more neutral at seeing her. Dark circles ringed his eyes; it wasn't early, he hadn't slept yet. At this point, he realized how much he'd bent over the table and straightened up to his full height while stretching his shoulders. "Always, of course," he replied with a smirk. One of those usual licorice root sticks he chewed on was pulled from a pouch and clamped between his teeth for a moment, gaze slipped away back to the map.

"Above," he stated dryly about the fortress. "We could. They can't." A blunt statement regarding the Workers. Apex was atypical in method and the rebels couldn't follow them competently. His lips thinned slightly toward a line. "Too many defenders. We can't either." The Absolute and their Civilized charges were too well holed up, relying on droids and mercenaries to do the actual fighting.

Nakoa was making a face. That sort of face where a found solution wasn't the one he wanted. It passed by, retreating again like waves against the shore as he took a gulp of cold coffee. Fingers rubbed the bridge of his nose when Arla mentioned Battle Meditation.

"One can read the future in battle lines. Assuming one can read," he answered, unable to help a sardonic joke. A hand waved vaguely over the holomap. "Can't affect the whole map." A pause. "Can't hold it forever. Has to matter." Nakoa had the talent for it, but even so, Battle Meditation was difficult. Before it'd mostly been used in short naval engagements or skirmishes, and he wasn't sure how long he could hold it in place over a city at war.

It visibly bothered him.

@Phoenix

 

[Arla]

Arla could tell that he didn't like their situation, and she knew that Apex was largely going to be on its own for this operation. The rebels didn't operate like the mercenaries.

If "above" is the weakness then we can use dropships, she said. He may have said the comment dryly or even sarcastically, but Nakoa and she could get inside. If they could even wedge open a door for the others to infiltrate, that was all they really needed. They'd impregnate the fort.

She could tell he was bothered by the fact that his Battle Meditation wasn't where he expected it to be, and she understood that. He expected perfection from himself much like she expected it of herself. She was slowly and painfully learning that that was unrealistic and more often than not simply left one hollow.

You will get there, she said. Somehow, the words felt more sincere when speaking to him than when she said it to herself. She ahd been wracked by self-doubt for years now no matter what she projected to others, and nothing she did seemed to shake it from her.

You seem unsettled, she said after another moment. His whole demeanor just struck her as a little bit off. Like something had gotten under his skin and been the source of his not sleeping. Maybe she was imagining it or maybe it was just concern about the mission, but the two of them hadn't had much time recently to just... catch up about what was going on.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Nakoa Singh]

Nakoa grumbled words in indistinct Tethysian that were probably something vulgar. He'd forgotten to elaborate the way he usually did. Still, he didn't disagree with Arla's flat assertion they could work with this. "Confident in us, are you?" This time it was less dry, more familiar teasing. He turned around to fully face Arla, leaning to half-sit against the holotable.

"Would have to airdrop. Or climb," he added after the fact. His lips twitched. "Draw defenders out from the front, lure them away. Doable. Don't like it." He shrugged. "Could work. Give me time to work my magic." Nakoa lazily wiggled his fingers like he was casting a spell.

His expression in response to her stated confidence in Nakoa's progress was met by a mixed expression that disappeared with the sound of a soft exhale. "Just so." Fingertips tapped on the table edge near his thigh in sequence, then he caught the time on his wrist chrono. Clicking his tongue, he fished around in a belt pouch and produced several different pills he wordlessly swallowed with cold coffee.

"I am unsettled," he begrudgingly agreed. His left hand came up to rub fingers against his temples before sliding and combing through loosely tied black hair. "It's too loud." Nakoa gestured vaguely around them, although he didn't mean the room they stood in. "Living and dead." Sheepishly- or maybe his shoulder just hurt, from the intensity of it- he massaged fingers into his right shoulder.

"Think I'll have to visit home soon about it."

@Phoenix

 

[Arla]

Arla took a seat across from Nakoa giving her usual straight face and an unwaveringly serious gaze as she looked at his eyes. There were bags under them, and there was a weight to the way he sat there.

Ah, yes, the dead that plagued him. It seemed her meditation techniques hadn't worked after all. Or at least, the time they had bought him had run out. Returning home? She didn't know precisely what that would do for him, but she didn't question it. Sometimes she, too, had to return home to center herself, though at this point, she rarely returned. There was too much pain after the death of her Mother and the Wandering Stars made her feel almost at home.

I understand, she said, pausing for a moment, pondering the best way to say what came next.

I can't have you falling apart on this job. In the field. We've worked together long enough that I trust your judgment, but I need to know if you need to recuse yourself from this operation, she said. Well, it was Arla, after all, and she was direct.

Before they could even say much else on the topic, everything went to pieces. There was a fast rap against the door and it burst open before either of them told him to enter.

They've attacked! Their ships are in the air, on the way out to sweep the outskirts. House by house if they have to, the man said. He was one of the runners for the rebel's upper leadership. Arla had seen him, but didn't recall his name. No doubt he had been told to come here by the rebel leaders.

Kriff, she said, pushing to her feet. How long? she asked.

The young man checked his chrono. Twelve minutes, ma'am.

 

[Nakoa Singh]

Singh's jaw set firmly at Arla's question, eyebrows dropping. This normally heralded sharp-tongued commentary, but it moved toward a pensive expression instead. Arla was objectively correct and her directness was preferred over nerfshit, anyway. Of course, Nakoa only had a bare few seconds for deeper consideration before a runner... well, ran in.

"Fuck's sake," was Nakoa's immediate opinion on the news. He stood from holotable and strode over to his ever-present bag, then locked his breathing mask over his lower face. His Wrean-made robe-jacket-thing was slipped on afterward, leather combat gloves joining the ensemble as he strode back over to Arla. He jerked his head toward a door that led to the landing area/garage and took the secure comm off his belt.

"Gravitas, fire up. Rapid response."

They needed to get there quickly and walking wasn't gonna do it. The strike groups hidden in the outskirts were important. He passed on the situation to the crew, who would inform the men aboard. There was a pause, then, as he placed the comm back on his belt. Nakoa leaned in toward Arla as they walked and playfully bumped her shoulder with his. "I'll be fine. Thank you."

In spite of himself and the things weighing him down, Nakoa's demeanor seemed to refocus somewhat as they approached the Apex gunship. It'd gone on a strange journey, the same as him. "Ready for trouble?" Nakoa abruptly asked Arla as they walked up the ramp, lips curling into a smirk beneath tired eyes.

Once they took off, the Very Little Gravitas would move to the target zone while remaining lower to the ground with minimal thrust signature. It'd go better for everyone- or at least, the 'everyone' that Nakoa preferred- if Apex showed up after the Absolute troops landed.

@Phoenix

 

[Arla]

Arla checked her own gear as they moved. Contracting was a very different and interesting world because you never knew what was going to happen. Usually she preferred more planning prior to a strike, but in this case that wasn't an option. That was the difference between assassination and open warfare.

Her mind was on their next step as Nakoa leaned in to give her a playful bump. The corner of her lip tugged up slightly and she gave a small snicker. Very well. Let us get to it, then, she said. And just like that, it was done. She didn't press him further about it or try to force him out. They'd worked together long enough that if he said he was fine, she believed him.

Arla climbed up the ramp of VLG as the wind started to pick up, her mind churning over another option as they went. She paused and looked out into the distance where she could see the enemy gunships closing in. Her fingers tapped quickly against her thigh as she turned something over in her mind, silver eyes looking ahead with thoughtful intensity.

Our troops know what they're doing on the ground. All those troops attacking the rebels mean fewer people in the fortress. This might be just the shoe in the door that we need in order to break the fort, she said. It was outside the box thinking, but it was precisely the kind of thinking that was putting Apex on the map. It also, however, meant the two of them would be operating without support.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Nakoa Singh]

Hearing those little sounds of amusement from the ordinarily serious-looking Arla was always some small joy, the upward movement of lips on a face so still and ever-focused. A silent trust passed between them as she unhesitatingly accepted his word. For that brief, passing moment, that was all that mattered.

A shame he'd lied. He lied all the time, easy as breathing in action and word. Just never to Arla. Nakoa didn't know, wasn't certain if he'd be fine. Right now, he must be.

During takeoff he was pensive. A blank expression looked out over the landscape as iron fingers gracefully navigated the years-familiar controls to carry Apex onward to its quarry. Nakoa didn't look back at Arla until she piped up with another option for action. Silently he looked back out the viewport, squinting slightly as he counted the number of Absolute dropship, estimated the troops involved.

A risk. So many unknown factors. Was it worth it? Amber-gold eyes glanced toward Arla. "With you?" he began with growing grin, speaking that familiar turn of phrase. "Just so." A calculated risk was hardly a risk at all. They could pull it off. This he believed.

He flicked a manual comms switch to address the crew. "Artax, you have command. Show them how it's done." The Kaleesh leader shouted back, echoed by his soldiers. Shortly after, the Absolute dropships landed and released their payload of authoritarian soldiers, swarming to seek those who dared defy the status quo.

Very Little Gravitas twisted on its length in the air under Nakoa's familiar touch, two missiles unleashed to crash into the Absolute landing zone just before. The ramp lowered to deposit Kaleesh sharpshooters behind cover, backed up RN-18s and a ground assault vehicle. Laser cannons hammered at dropships and enemy soldiers, throwing them into disarray that Apex was well-trained to take advantage of.

Panicked shots from damaged dropships reached up like burning fingers toward the VLG and crashed hopelessly against shields as the old gunship flew off again, angling high on approach to the fortress.

@Phoenix

Spoiler: Dice Roll

1d20+3 piloting check, 20/20 total.[/abox3]

 

[Arla]

Arla didn't know that he had lied to her, and had she known, she likely would have been both hurt and furious. A bad combination. Fortunately - or unfortunately - she didn't know.

We will do it, then, she said with a nod. And that was that. They would take on the fortress, and although they may not be able to truly take the fortress themselves, they could kill the leaders and open the doors. It was as "simple" as that.

Arla watched the readouts as they moved in to drop off the troops. Explosions below detonated the landing zone before the Kaleesh deployed, taking advantage of the area. For her part, it was only a quick flick of her eyes to see the explosion before they returned to the technical readouts.

We need to move. Two more enemy gunships closing in. Our window is going to slip away in seconds, she said, her fist clenching so hard that she could hear her knuckles crack.

They had taken out a chunk of the enemy forces in a fell swoop, but Apex would still have a hard fight on their hands. She knew they would do well, and even if they didn't win outright, they'd cost the enemy so much blood that victory eluded them. That was the vicious way that her people fought. They weren't just mercenaries and soldiers, they were warriors from culture that prided themselves on warfare and weren't afraid to die in its embrace. They weren't just fighting for money, they were fighting for glory.

Pull away and take vector .38, she said, finding the only window the scopes said would get them out of here and to the enemy fortress.

 

[Nakoa Singh]

Nakoa clicked his tongue, hands flicking over Tethysian-style manual controls and lighting up displays and one red warning diode by a small lever. "Point-three-eight, aye," he replied sharply even as the VLG changed course, hull straining like steel beams in deep sea depths. There was a second's fraction where his eyes flashed, amber toward bright gold, pupils narrowing to slits.

The ship abruptly jerked right and upward, an infantry-launched missile striking the edge of VLG's shields. "Hold tight," he warned as he noted the incoming Absolute dropships. A warning from Nakoa wasn't usually the sign of a normal maneuver and this was no exception. The gunship was thrown into a spiraling of all things. As the Absolute gunships from a distance to intercept them, guns turning in anticipation of a mid-air brawl, Nakoa pulled the lever.

Afterburners blasted behind them and shot Very Little Gravitas forward through the gap, leaving the enemy too far behind to chase after them. The fortress had fighters, but they hadn't been scrambled in time to react. After all, Workers didn't have gunships. VLG straightened out and rocketed toward the Fortress's topside landing pad. It looked like they had air defense cannons but, per Nakoa's original assessment, they were ancient and unprepared to respond quickly.

Nakoa didn't land the gunship so much as half-skid it into place, hull-checking a much less durable strike fighter out of the way as a landing brake. Then he leapt from his seat and charged toward the lowering exit ramp, the few remaining crewmembers in position to man guns and keep the ship secure.

Already his expression lit up from the promise of a fight. He felt fine as he willed a flat chunk of cracked duracrete to rip from the landing pad and serve as cover for him and Arla, a common tactic. "Clear left," was his suggestion as soldiers stormed the landing pad to ward Apex off.

@Phoenix

 

[Arla]

Arla should have been a little more proactive with the "hold tight" part but she hadn't flown in combat with Nakoa enough to know what was coming. She was nearly thrown from her seat as they flew into a spiral and only narrowly managed to grab onto her seat handles. The inertial dampeners were all that kept her in her chair before they hit the afterburners and were tearing through the air.

By now she was clutching onto the armrests for dear life, jaw clenching in discomfort. She knew how to fly, but she was far from a combat pilot. Add to that the fact that her life was now almost entirely in someone else's hands - even Nakoa's - and Arla hated it. She hated all of it.

Her face was all scowls until they began to level out. She turned her attention back to the consoles and readouts as they drew closer.

Cannons are attempting lock-on, she said as a shrill alarm began to ding and flash red to her left.

She threw her restraints on as they came in faster, evidently not coming to a stop. She thought they might fly over and jump out, but it seemed Nakoa had other ideas, and they were screeching and crashing(?) across the landing pad in a maneuver that had to have shredded the underside of the ship, but didn't kill them, so... there was that.

This was not off to the start she had expected. Stealth was out the window, and she was beginning to wonder if this had been a mistake.

So she threw a curveball into Nakoa's plan. Before he made it out of the ship, she grabbed him and issued an order to the rest of the crew by comlink.

Engage opfor for a short time and then take off, she said into the comlink before throwing her arms around Nakoa.

You may vomit. Please don't do it on me, she said, and without further warning, thrust them both into the Shadow, diving down its currents until they were halfway across the base on a rampart that had most certainly not been breached already. If the two of them were assaulting alone, then stealth would be a critical component, and now everyone was focused on the landing pad where they made their "aggressive entry."

They popped out into the fresh morning air, and she hoped Nakoa wouldn't relieve his stomach, though nausea was a common side effect the first time. She couldn't remember, but she didn't think she had ever teleported him before? Who knew at this point.

 

[Nakoa Singh]

The plan amendment was good. Nakoa'd had a feeling flying over was a made idea, but this was basically on-the-fly planning. Literally. What he hadn't expected, though, was for Arla to suddenly throw herself into tightly hugging him. He defaulted to a joke to cover the weird thing his heartbeat did in response to her voice in his ear, arms automatically going around her in response.

"This really the time- huh?" Did she say 'vomit'? The next moment there was a flash of emerald flame as their surroundings warped and bent, flickers of darkness at the edges. Down and through they dove, skimming across the Veil like dragonflies over still lake waters. Arla would be used to this, given she teleported regularly.

It was too loud. Dissonant whispers drifted from beyond the edge of the channel they traveled, indiscernible but nonetheless abnormal. Nakoa held tightly to Arla in those brief moments. Then they appeared again in some other place in a burst of sunlight and ordinary air. Their impromptu embrace lingered for a moment, amber-gold eyes moving from where green energy had carried them on to stare into cool silver. They lingered, too. "Arla," he began deliberately

"Teach me- eugh." That's when dizzy-sick of vertigo hit, his head dropping onto Arla's shoulder. It didn't seem like he was about to vomit, though. Flying wildly and having well-trained control over his own biology was useful when it counted. It took a few seconds for him to straighten up again. "-how to do that," Nakoa finished, exactly as if he hadn't interrupted himself.

Nakoa's arms slipped from Arla as he turned to examine their surroundings. They both could see and hear the fighting on the now-distant landing pad. A good diversion. He looked down and firmly thumped the ground beneath him, head tilting as if he were listening to something. "My turn. Hold your breath."

That flat announcement preceded him throwing an arm around Arla and the Black Current flowing through and around them. It dragged them downward through the undertow, slipping through the duracrete surface like quicksand. Their feet would thump back onto solid ground inside a cramped, well-filled storage room that looked to be full of rations.

They were inside.

@Phoenix

 

[Arla]

Arla sensed the quickening of his heartbeat, and she wondered if there was something to that. Probably just adrenaline related to impending combat. Or was it something more?

Either way, they were hurtling through the bridge between space and time. As they appeared, she nearly stepped back from him as he put his head against her, not wanting to be vomited on. To his credit, he didn't empty his stomach.

Teach him? Could she even do that? Possibly, but he was not baptized, which made things far more... complicated. Not something to think about in the here and now.

Blasterfire erupted in the distance as their troops traded fire with the enemy, and already she could hear the engines beginning to fire up.

She didn't know what he was going to do, but she took a deep breath as he pulled them both through the floor and down into a storage room. Ah yes, a classic maneuver. One that had been critical in her assassination of the monstrous governor who killed her mother. Rot beyond the Veil, she cursed in her mind.

And we're in, she muttered quietly. She focused on her hearing, letting her Sephi ears work for her, but hearing nothing outside.

She reached back and grabbed the lightsaber from the back of her belt, igniting it and slashing across the controls, causing the door to slide open. It seemed their distraction on the roof and the battle out in the city really had emptied much of the base.

 

[Nakoa Singh]

Nakoa was peeking through the doorway just a moment after it opened, left and right. The two of them fell easily into sync. After years, Nakoa didn't need nor want his empathic talents to work together. An alarm blared out in the hall, red lights blinking in response to the straightforward attack on the landing pad. Surprise and anger filled the fortress, bright and burningly obvious as staring straight into the sun.

He slipped into the hallway before Arla, head darting this way and that to get his bearings. Reactively wild though he could be, contrasting his role as a strategist, Nakoa's intuition was sharp. Their feet carried them to the left across the metal floor with steps as quiet as a cat's. Still, experienced as they were by now, fate was often strange.

Footsteps echoed abruptly from around a corner, heavy-booted and heavily armored. Nakoa jerked back from the crossway to wrap his cloak-jacket over Arla and fling them both into a wall. They phased through like water into what was, essentially, a janitor's closet. The close air quickly filled with scents of salt, mint, ginger, lotus, and with the things that Arla wore and worked with.

Somewhere outside, a Dark presence passed them by.

@Phoenix

 

[Arla]

Arla was taken off guard as Nakoa threw them through a wall again, pressed closely up against him again she almost wondered if it wasn't purposeful at this point. And if it was?

Her thoughts were instead drawn to that darkness that passed by in the hall outside. She didn't know who it was, but she was certain it was a "who." Just her luck, as well. She couldn't seem to go anywhere without running into another Force-user, and almost always a potent one in this line of work.

But that was her job, wasn't it? She was Apex. Or at least trying to be. It wasn't just about not being hunted, it was about hunting others and turning beings who were normally predators into prey themselves. It was what would set her apart in the galaxy... or perhaps just her own mind.

The thoughts passed like a flash across her mind, but she her eyes never left the door. It wasn't just about winning anymore, it was about dominating. It was about laying waste to anyone who would challenge her.

We will not be able to take the base until that person is dead. We'll need to isolate the other officers as well. Even we don't want to fight skilled combatants and a dozen troopers at once, she whispered quietly, almost against his ear. She may have craved victory, but she also wasn't foolish enough to rush to her death, either.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Nakoa Singh]

Amber-gold stared at the door and somewhere beyond it, the Wrean's head tilted as if he was listening to some song just out of hearing. That tilt turned toward Arla when she spoke, not moving away but still turning just a little bit red. "Then they're dead," he stated like it was obvious. Of course they were going to die. Arla and Nakoa had decided it.

He paused as the presence moved out of range. Footsteps approached the janitor's closet and Nakoa straightened, tensed, intensified. "Idea," he said, committed to a new idea. The door slid open and he sprung like metal-fanged jaws, iron fingers grasping at the throat and uniform of the man who appeared.

The otherwise innocent janitor was dragged into the closet, the back of their head smashing into the wall as the door slid closed again. It left a trail of blood as they slumped to the ground, a mop falling from its mount. Nakoa reached toward his belt- and deeply frowned.

"You have a knife?"

@Phoenix

 

[Arla]

Excellent. Then death would come for him or her. He promptly declared that he had an idea, but unfortunately in this case, Arla had no idea what that idea actually was.

She decided to just step back and let him do what he was going to do, which consisted of mauling the poor janitor. Oh well. There was a chance he was still alive? Either way, she mostly cared for taking into account him waking up.

Of course, she said. Her hunting knife was ever-present and she went almost nowhere without it. The blade was well-made and meticulously well-kept and he would have seen her use it dozens of times for both her work and for more simple tasks like food preparation or even whittling... a hobby she seemed to have unfortunately little time for these days. She handed it across to him and just... waited to see what he was planning.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Nakoa Singh]

There was no chance of the Janitor's waking. Especially not after Arla handed Nakoa her knife. "Thank you," Irirangi said, just before plunging it into the poor man's heart. The blade pulled free with a river of blood and the Wrean got to work. He knew Arla wasn't squeamish. He still hoped it didn't change anything.

With cruel precision, the blade was wielded to divest the Janitor of his face. Razor steel sliced clean through skin and muscle, little different from skinning wild game. Nakoa muttered something under his breath as he pulled the fresh mask free, power and will sinking into the newly dead flesh. The blood that covered it glowed crimson the same way the Hssiss's had so many years ago.

And just like a mask, the flesh was pulled up to Nakoa's face, and in doing so was empowered by Shadow. The Wrean's form shifted, largely in his face. It took a new life and changed to match the late Janitor's. Skin became the paler tones of the dead man in the closet. Fingernails were worn and cracked from long hours of labor. Long, ink-black hair retreated into a more common humanocentric style.

There before Arla, a janitor stood in Nakoa's clothes, though taller and somewhat leaner than the dead man he'd replaced. "I'll need to change. This way, I can get close," explained the janitor in Nakoa's voice. A pause. "Can you-" A pause again. "Move yourself to me? Like earlier?"

@Phoenix

 

[Arla]

Well, no, he probably wouldn't be okay now. Arla didn't flinch as he plunged the knife into the man's heart, wondering to herself just what the plan here was. She'd initially thought it was a plan for the uniform, but that was now drenched in blood so she'd guess that was a "no."

Then he started peeling the guy's face off, and that was new. She'd seen dark rituals performed with human blood before, but this was different. And then it clicked what he was doing. Although she didn't know the technique herself, she could guess where he was going with this. She'd heard about such techniques before, though only in passing mention.

Sure enough, Nakoa began to transform before her, taking on a different shape entirely to fit the dead man. A useful tool to have in the belt.

She took her knife back and cleaned it before slipping it back into her belt.

What? she asked, initially not following what he was saying before it clicked. No, she said, shaking her head. Only places I can see. Or have been, she said. She was inherently uncomfortable sharing information about her powers or what her limitations were, but this was only practical.

I will figure something out, she said. She was adept at stealth in her own way, and would find a way to either keep up with him directly or catch up.

@Mr. Teatime