Two Crazies, One Room

[Kaane]

A Trandoshan dressed in white, with a small pin of a clenched fist and a red ascot decorating his chest, walked with purpose towards the captain's quarters of the Asylum, his cape, lined with red velvet on the interior billowing out behind and to the sides of him. He'd spent most of the day carefully preparing a gorgeous propaganda campaign, one of his best-laid so far, to spread out among the peoples of a few neutral planetary systems and garner some support for an independent resistance movement. But for some reason, Bria wanted to see him. And as he had quickly learned, when Bria wanted something, you obliged her with haste.

An old-fashioned dossier was at his side; he preferred writing things down to swiping through datapads, despite the expense of getting paper and pens. It was a specialty trade, nowadays. But Slars was a special person. Perhaps special in a different sense to others, but to him he had always deserved the best.

At any rate he soon happened upon the door to the captain's quarters. He'd press the button off to the side of the door, activating the intercom system wired into it. "It's Slars, mate," he'd say calmly. "You wanted to see me?"

 

[Outlander]

Bria ushered the scaly man inside, opening the door for his entrance and closing it in his wake. One thing that was consistent for Bria was the mild state of chaos she kept her office. Old fashioned papers lied strewn across her desk, boxes of reports, acquisitions, and personnel files dotted the floor. The woman herself looked like a steely beacon in the sea of disarray; for good or ill.

She looked up from the report she was currently reading, a document on recent material acquisitions from the Bomari, to address him. "Sit down, Slars." She said, her voice stern, but not malicious. She wasn't mad at the Trandoshan. Not yet, anyways. "Can you explain to me these 'information packets' that have been floating around the fleet?" She removed a colorful flier from a desk drawer and presented it, displaying its simple, but eye catching, exterior featuring a pair of red and blue lightsabers crossed out by a large red X. "Is this what I think it is, or are we somehow succumbing to a group hallucination."

 

[Kaane]

Ohhhhhh shit.

Slars laughed a bit quietly as he averted his gaze from Bria, his eyelids squinting as though he were trying to hide himself, gloved claws rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment. He knew this would get reported to her sooner or later, but this was literally the day of. Perhaps these guys weren't as ready for a little philosophizing as he thought.

"Ehe, um, ha, yeah mate, that's my personal pamphlet. I took a little class in Graphic Design back on Trandosha, I know how to get these things all flashy and eye-catching and neat and the like, yeah..."

He soon realized that going off on a tangent probably wouldn't work with her. He cleared his throat, and sighed as he told the truth. "You can't blame me for trying mate. These people know what the Sith have done to the galaxy and what the Jedi failed to do, mate. Hell even if they want the Republic all over again, they still know the Force was to blame for their troubles, at least in some part of 'em. It's just a pamphlet, s'not like i'm druggin them...as far as I'm concerned these people are becomin' my family mate, I care about 'em. Some of these folk have no clue how dangerous these Sith and Jedi are, they think, they think..."

He sighed again, looking down. "I wouldn't do anything to 'arm your crew, Bria. Believe me."

 

[Outlander]

"And you should know by now I don't give a wampa's ass what you intend. I see actions, not motives. And what I see right now is you trying to distribute propaganda to my crew in subversion of our goal as an organization." Bria balled the small slip of paper up and tossed it at Slarz, aiming squarely for his reptilian face. It wasn't a hard throw, but seeing the ball bounce off his nose would be at least a little satisfying. "As long as you're here with us, you work to represent our interests. And as much as you hate the Jedi, they aren't the ones we give a damn about. We fight the Sith, and those that work for the Sith, and until the day that one of blue glowsticks cuts your tail off, I don't want to see any more of this shit on my ships." Bria kept her anger barely controlled under the surface, her expression painfully inert as if she'd make a leap at his throat given the chance.

"Until further notice, you're on cleaning duty. I want all of these gathered up, brought to the armory, and torched with whatever they have on hand. And if I see anything like this cross my desk again from someone other than you, you'll find yourself very quickly out of my good graces. Are we clear?"

 

[Kaane]

A part of him also knew this was coming. But slight preparedness didn't remove any of the sting of her harsh rebuke of everything Slars stood for.

His fists were clenching under the desk as his face turned into a solemn mask of growing rage. He knew he couldn't make a mistake like he did at college, but this, this was too much for him to handle. His rational mind was being overloaded with sheer rage that he was being brushed off and used like some tool. He barely even heard Bria's words after the pamphlet hit his face...he just waited calmly, in a gentlemanly manner, the manner he'd been so careful to construct around himself to prevent himself from ever losing it.

But he was just about through being a cyborg's personal bitch.

Immediately after she finished he stood up as he slammed the desk in front of him with open palms, his claws shredding the tips of his gloves from the sheer force of the impact. He leaned forward, and perhaps better than some Sith could, released all of his pent up rage.

"And I don't give a wampa's ass about your bullshit priorities! Subversive my scaled behind, I'm a principled kriffing man...not that you even know the meaning of the word!"

He pulled away as suddenly as he'd exploded onto her desk, his hands making wild, evocative gestures as he now paced a foot or two behind the chair, ranting all the while. "At least, I think that's what you wanted when you brought me on, right, some bloody kriffing principles! What've you got 'ere, before I came on, you were nothing, just a bunch of ragtag imbeciles doing some cute little raids on some cute little Imperial bases calling it all a cute little success, like hatchlings playing dressup! You needed me dammit, you knew exactly what I had and you wanted it!"

He then faced Bria and yelled straight to her face once more, standing next to one of the walls. "And yet somehow, all of my research, all of my work, all of the kriffing proof I have on my side doesn't mean a damn to you! You treat the one person funding you and working his ass off for you for the sake of what you believe in like bantha fodder! And instead you just wanna give lip service to some jackass Order despite every, single, damn, phase of history showing how stupidly ineffective they are at accomplishing everything! THE REASON YOU'RE FIGHTING IS BECAUSE THE JEDI FAILED! AND THEY WILL FAIL OVER AND OVER AGAIN, DON'T YOU GET IT!?"

He stood front and center of his little stage now again, resting his arms on the chair as he gave the supreme Commander a coy little smile. "Dare I say, you're a little too bloody irrational for this whole thing...you should probably let someone who actually knows how to build a movement take charge, eh?"

 

[Outlander]

Bria threw a punch. She didn't care if it proved the lizard's point. She didn't even feel herself throw it.

But she didn't hold back. Not even an inch.

Like a ball of rage, Bria flew across the desk, her metal fist smashing into that coy little smile of his, with the full intention of cracking it like an eggshell. She didn't know what was ever happening; a mental disconnect as her conscious mind fell to the wayside, her body acting on its own, controlled by her own feelings of rage, anger, and loss. Her friends and family had died because of the Sith! She had lost everything to them! And she would not let this smug son of a bitch disgrace their memory by lumping those monsters in with anyone else but their own kind.

Her desk, already extremely disorganized due to her natural messiness, looked like a hurricane as various papers and files flew around the room. It didn't even register as a blip.

 

[Kaane]

Slars was clocked straight in the jaw, and fell backwards at the immense force behind the cybernetics of Bria's arm. His smile quickly turned into a snarl as dark red life dripped from sockets in his gums where teeth once where, onto his immaculate clothing. His lower jaw was pounding in pain, probably cracked in a few places. And he was utterly dazed.

This impudent little wretch with complete disregard for reality punched him. And drew blood to boot. Nobody made him bleed his own blood.

Nobody.

Despite the pain of his jaw, it was functional enough to let him hiss a final battlecry: "You got blood on my ssssuit!"

He then practically leapt towards Bria and wound up a serious haymaker, all of the freakish strength of his species behind it, before unleashing it directly onto the flesh maggot's pretty little face, wildly grinning in satisfaction.

It was like Excarga all over again. Oh well.

 

[Outlander]

Bria was already bringing her fists to bear in defense, Slars battlecry setting off mental alarms at the typically civil trandoshan's true capacity for violence. His fist clipped off her metal arm, the force shaking her, but not breaking through the spell she was under as she braced reflexively. Her other hand came around in an open handed strike, slapping him hard across his damaged face in a swift movement, a technique intending to throw him off guard for the robotic knee she threw up into his groin. Didn't matter what species it was; a primal part of her mind marked it as a weak point, and her body worked to deliver.

He had a mass advantage. But Bria didn't care. Not because of her cybernetics, or not insonsiderably strength. Something had snapped deep down somewhere in her patchwork psyche, and every fibre of her being was pushed towards the kill. She put the weight of her loss behing every strike, and refused to hold back.

 

[Kaane]

The punch he had wound up was blocked and deflected, his knuckles slamming hard into Bria's metal arm before clipping off. But he wasn't about to leave this room without caving her skull in; when he was through, this cretin would have a metal face to match the rest of her.

The slap to his face only enraged him further, the pain providing further fuel for his assault. He wasn't backing down anytime soon. Everything he had worked for was being deemed inconsequential by the only person who seemed to really see something in his abilities. He refused to be someone's fool; he was his own man, he didn't need an immature leader ordering him around like a child.

And yet somehow, if anything he was trying to impress her, give her what he thought she asked for. He wanted to find someone like-minded, more than anything else. He'd temporarily opened himself up, weakening him.

Which only pissed him off even more.

His left hand was in the right place to block the knee sailing straight towards his groin, the prosthetic stopped in its tracks, while Slars' right hand, already behind Bria from the failed punch, gripped her by the head as he slammed his forehead directly into the bridge of her nose with a primal roar, the headbutt undoubtedly breaking it if it landed. He'd have gone straight for the neck if his jaw wasn't broken.

Unfortunately, it would only make her punishment that much more brutal.

 

[Outlander]

She saw stars as his headbutt landed, her head sailing back with the force. Something cracked, a brief flicker of recognition realized it as the sound of the cartiledge in her nose breaking under the force. But Bria didn't fight clean. She fought very dirty. She had to do anything to win. She had to beat the Sith.

Using the momentum of his attsck, Bria threw her whole body backwards, her hand coming up to clamp Slar's claws in place and deprive him of an escape. The Trandoshan, already listing forward from his headbutt and the awkward position of Bria's leg between his, would topple forward as she ducked, letting him sail over her and onto her desk, the grip on his scaly hand twisting his arm under him. She wouldn't be in the best position, but he'd be sprawling with one arm under her complete control.

Slars wasn't the enemy.

Slars wasn't Sith.

But she didn't care anymore.

 

[Kaane]

His head met her face with a satisfying crunch, but it seemed she was far from ready to give up. By pulling back, she managed to use his momentum to flip him spectacularly through the air before he landed hard on the desk, the wind thoroughly knocked out of him with a loud yelp of pain. He could've sworn he heard porcelain shatter, and if he wasn't filled with adrenaline he'd feel the shards of a broken coffee mug sticking into his back. Meanwhile Bria's paperwork seemed to become beyond repair at this point, entire folders of files and notes making their acquaintance with the floor.

She was obviously already corrupted, she couldn't see past the midi-chlorians clouding her vision, just like everyone else in this retarded galaxy. Every great length he'd ever go to would be for naught. And she'd pay for stamping on his dream.

Though his right arm was now trapped behind his back, she only had one arm held down, while the rest of him was free. After a moment's recovery he would roll so as to get his arm untwisted before he grabbed hold of Bria's arm with the other, using his arms and upper body strength to attempt to pull Bria facefirst into the desk before he backed away out of his vulnerable position and unfastened his cape. He'd breathe heavily, glaring, his lower jaw now uncomfortably askew.

Betraying his trust, treating him like a dog made to heel...he'd show this tin can who the real cur was.

 

[Outlander]

Bria's arm was wretched uncomfortably forward towards the desk. She dropped immediately to try and stop her forward momentum, and while she succeeded in not slamming into the table, a sick feeling tore through her organic arm as the limb popped out of the socket. The pain ripped at her, spreading like a disease. She could feel only pain radiating through hee body. Her arm released, she scrambled to her feet across the room from Slars, her vision doubling and bluring, finally reforming into... Him.

The Sith that took her legs.

The Sith that took her friends.

The Sith that took her home.

No. Not again. Not ever again! She would never let him rip apart her family; not ever again.

She ripped her vibroknife from its sheath and lunged forward at the Sith, screaming.

"YOU'LL NEVER TAKE THEM AWAY AGAIN, SITH."

 

[Kaane]

All he could see when she got to her feet was pure malice in her normally-calm eyes. Not that there wasn't any before...but now it seemed especially intense as they stared each other down across from each other, both battered and bloodied. Both seething with rage. Both at a jagged impasse.

Both predators, waiting for the other to strike.

Bria obliged, savagely unsheathing a vibroblade before lunging at him. Slars was well prepared, the electroblade at his belt soon torn from its scabbard and activated in self-defense. But at the same time, she opened her mouth.

Her words struck through his core like a bolt of lightning. Specifically the last.

Sith.

Sith.

Sith.

This wasn't right. Was it?

His blade whipped up reflexively to block the vibroblade, the humming knife whirring loudly as it struck against the electromagnetic field his own shortsword projected. Sparks flew from his blade's contact, as it was undoubtedly in her eyes morphing into a Sith lightsaber while the two weapons locked in a deadly embrace.

He was up close now. He could see it clearly; there was no recognition in his leader's eyes: only anger. And anguish.

"I'rrhm naught a Hssssssshith darmrrit!" he garbled, the anger at being insulted so deeply mixing with the grave realization that she wasn't all wrong. He had lost it again. Just like Excarga, just like college, just like everywhere else...the past five years spent fighting himself and reforming his actions for the greater good were all undone in a single fit of rage.

He gave into the beastly creature within for no good reason, becoming the very people he hated. And he'd done it to the leader of the resistance he supported, above all bloody things.

With what might was left in him he pushed Bria away, but he didn't go after her. He didn't have it in him...not after that. He could only stand, silently, his mind working a million parsecs an minute as he froze in place.

 

[Outlander]

Bria screamed, a gutteral sound more akin to an animal than a woman, as her blade locked with the Sith, his red lightsaber parrying her blow before she was shoved back by her attacker. If it killed her, he would pay for what he'd done. All of her friends deserved at least that much.

But the Sith was gone. Only Slars remained. Hurt, panting, and once again docile. Her weapon dropped to the floor. Something... Snapped. Something deep inside of her. Bria broke down completely; the illusion destroyed and reality returning in fits. The world spun. Nothing made sense.

She was out before she hit the floor, foam beginning to form around the edges of her mouth, and her pupils rolled back into her skull.

 

[Kaane]

It was instinct. As soon as he saw her wavering, he rushed to catch her despite his injuries. He looked down on her, wiping the blood still dripping from his jaw away with his free arm. She was going critical. He had to do something and do it quick. Somehow he had to fix this; he had to.

After laying her down gently, Slars frantically stood up, much to the dismay of his shard-laden back, as he pushed away the remaining papers on Bria's desk. There had to be an intercom somewhere, he'd used one to get in the door. It wasn't on the desk...it had to be on the floor.

The Trandoshan got down on his hands and knees, sifting through papers and assorted paraphernalia with the desperation of a madman, scanning every inch of it until he finally found a comm unit with a few numbers on a dial pad. There were a few numbers pasted on it...bridge...barracks...operations...security....medbay. Medbay.

He dialed the number next to it and was immediately patched through straight to the medical wing of the Asylum.

"Dohhter...Dohhter...ahhywone, hlease, mred assisstance to Rri-..."

He stopped himself, noticing he choked on saying it.

"Rri-...."

Again, he choked. His eyes began to feel uncomfortably wet.

"RRIA! HAEVE RRIA!" he screamed over and over again, bawling loudly into the comm unit before he dropped it, curling up into the fetal position on a bed of papers and broken glass. He'd killed her, he was sure of it, he'd actually killed her...though he'd never admitted it he admired her for all she'd done so far, all the strength she had, even if she treated him and his opinions as inconsequential. And he killed her, he kriffing killed her.

He didn't even notice a doctor and a team of strongmen coming in as makeshift transporters with a gurney come in, strapping Bria down as they immediately wheeled her down to medbay. Nor did he notice the people that followed after, roughly picking him up and throwing a pair of cuffs around him as they escorted him to the brig. He didn't care. It didn't matter to him anymore. All that mattered was his failure. And its dire consequences.

 

[Outlander]

...

...

...

...

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Darkness. Nothing. Peace. Finally peace. Through the void, there was serenity. She hadn't experienced it in so long. Even in darkness, she felt pure light. It was intoxicating.

Something drifted by, a piece of wayward consciousness intent to destroy her slumber. Someone she knew. Many she knew. A stark white room, curtains drawn. Some kind of pump, and a mask. She recognized it too.

No more. No more.

Still the images pulled. Something not entirely her own, of a sad man in a cell, more concerned about his being than his fate. She recognized him too. It was hard not to. Another man she knew well, doing his duty as best he could. A girl, so cold and empty inside. Wanting. A healer devoid of purpose, and another devoid of sanity. Creatures flew amongst the pictures. Here be monsters. Here be demons.

...

...

...

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

No. There was still work to do. Sleep. Sleep later. Now, it was time to do what was right. No matter how hard it was.

"She...-waking...-how? We ha...-sedation."

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Bria's eyes opened, first slits, then wide to take in the world around her. A medical ward, with a pair of technicians minding her side. One looked to be frantically pressing buttons on a console, while the other watched on in bewilderment. There was pain. There was much pain. But she knew pain well.

"Slars..." She said, voice hoarse from disuse. "Bring me Slars."

 

[Kaane]

It'd been at least a week or so since he'd last seen Bria, lying on the floor broken. He wasn't being held on trial for murder in a kangaroo court at least, so he'd surmised, more out of hope than reason, that she was still alive. Not that he could truly tell; he'd never received a single word from his guards, the two of them dedicated perhaps to make sure he suffered in silence.

And suffer in silence he did. He ate, drank and slept, but beyond that there was nothing. His grief was immense, weighing down upon him like the mass of an ocean. He didn't even cry anymore, his tears used up long ago. No one spoke to him beyond issuing simple commands, and he did as he was told.

Thankfully his cooperation merited one of the medical staff coming by to get a brace set on his jaw with a few bacta injections, but that was about all the courtesy he received. Courtesy he felt he didn't even deserve.

Why did he do it...he felt his cause worth fighting for, but not against his allies. Acquaintainces. Friends. Not like this.

His reverie was interrupted by a guard coming to him.

"Bria wants you. Hands through the slot."

Slars let his hands through the slot in the cell door for them to be cuffed solemnly, but inside his heart both jumped and sank. Bria was alive...but what she'd think of him after that...it was anyone's guess, to Slars.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The door to the medbay opened as Slars was taken in. The medical techs looked over; they seemed to be staring daggers right into his heart.

He stood at the foot of the bed, not being offered a seat. He was still wearing the same, bloodied, white tunic he was the day of their brawl, and his lower jaw was bandaged and braced.

"Bria..." he said quietly through his locked jaw; part of him wanted to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness, another wanted to run out the door and never look back, and still another, strangely, wanted to give her the warmest hug a cold-blooded lizard could manage. But as it stood he was once again standing still, frozen, as though the fight had happened but a few minutes ago.

"I'm sorry..."

 

[Outlander]

Bria raised a hand, quite a feat considering her condition. She was in a bad way, that was for sure. The techs had explained that she'd had a stress induced seizure, compounded with complications from her mechanical limbs. She was lucky to be alive, let alone still capable of speech, but she wasn't through with the medical ward. Not for a while longer anyways. "I need to talk to him alone. And uncuff him." With a somewhat uncertain expression, the guards complied with her request and removed the electric cuffs from Slars, then exited the room along with the present medical technicians.

Silence lingered in the air between the two. Bria looked to her bedside, where someone had placed a flower in a cup of water. She didn't know who.

"Do you know why I fight?" She asked slowly, her gaze unwavering from the delicate pedals of the plant so alien from what she knew. "My friends. My family. A man..." A deep sigh. It was hard, even now. Especially now. She felt a tear fall down her face, slowly, etching itself in her scars and blemishes.

"I'm alive today because of a man. Austin. A healer. A teacher. A... leader. He's gone, because I wasn't strong enough. Because he cared too much. So many dead... so many dead and I couldn't protect them."

"I can't change the past. But I can make sure the Sith pay for what they did. I can make sure my friends lives weren't in vain."

The tears flowed freely now, her body shaking as she sobbed. "I just... I just... I can't let them take my family away again."

 

[Kaane]

Slars was as genuinely surprised as the guards when Bria ordered the cuffs to come off. But he was totally unprepared for what came next.

He expected a verbal lashing the likes of which he hadn't had since he was a child. Instead...this.

His slitted eyes followed hers to the single flower sitting there as she spoke. A carnation infused with vibrant blues, reds, and oranges: a wonder to the eye, a sight that commanded attention, was probably resilient to at least 5000 known galactic arborial diseases, and genetically engineered to perfection. Yet still fragile, able to be broken if you simply pinched it too hard.

And here this woman lay in bed, broken entirely by his hand. Crying. Lamenting Austin, lamenting her family and friends, lamenting everyone she lost in defense of the Republic.

But she didn't flag in her resolve even now...even now she proclaimed her defense of all she held dear.

The reptile felt tears well up in his eyes too before he brushed them away. He walked closer to Bria as she sobbed, gently taking a seat in the chair next to the bed that was likely used by many a visitor before him. He hesitated at touching her again, afraid of himself and his own capability for rage. But once again instinct took over, in a much better light this time around.

He rested a hand on her back and rubbed it gently as she cried, simply doing so in silence as she slowly calmed down. Normally, it was easy for him to come up with something to say...he had a gift of gab that went beyond the newsroom. But here...it took a long while before he even let a single word escape his lips. He'd do no more damage to her. Not after that.

"I...I'd say you remind me of myself but that'd be a lie, mate. We've both lost things to the Sith, we both want to see them grovel at our feet...but I've only ever been a coward. I sat at a desk and spewed sewage at people hoping someone would listen...meanwhile you, you've been out there. You've been doing things most of us'd only dream of doing. You've given the Sith hell for years now. I was barely a gnat biting their ass."

He dialed it back some, realizing he was getting a bit too enthused about his praises. "I just...I...I never admitted it. But when I realized what you've done in only 5 years, mate, 5 years, I...I revered you. It was like for the first time in my life I had a real hero to look up to...I mean dad was a kriffing..."

He stopped himself again, not nearly ready to go there yet. "All I can say is...you've done your family proud a million times over...and...Austin...I think you've done him proud too, Bria. You've done them all proud...you're the bloody Supreme Commander of the Galactic Freedom Movement..."

He tried to smile a bit, wincing at his jaw before he noticed a box of tissues. He snatched some and gently helped dry her tears, seeing as she could barely lift a finger without being exhausted. "And you can consider me a brother-in-arms, mate. No matter where this freighter takes us, I'm along for the ride."

 

[Outlander]

Bria squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the pain of remembering. Of loss. It had been so long since she'd cried, since those first few nights on the run. Now, even the nightmares had stopped. She was sometimes scared that she couldn't feel what she was fighting for anymore. She wished, equally, that it was true, and she could finally leave the war to someone else. Life was pain. Life was suffering. And she had enough pain and suffering. Enough for a whole lifetime.

She felt Slars's hand on her back; it was a comforting gesture. Normally, she would have balked at the attempt to comfort. But now... now she really needed it. More than she could ever lead on. Just knowing that someone understood her; what she dealt with. What she'd been through. Now, someone did know. Someone who respected and cared about her.

It was an attachment. Attachments hurt. They always ended in pain.

But she knew pain well.

And this was a pain she felt she could bear.