[Fic] Boundaries, Methods, Bounties, Madness

[Darth InSidious]

Boundaries, Methods, Bounties, Madness

 

He moved his arm a fraction of an inch to the right, shifting his grasp on the handgrip, and once again resting his finger against the trigger. This was quite probably the least interesting job he'd had in a long while, but it was a good way of disguising his true calling. Some might say it was almost perfect. He kept his eye trained on a single point at the man's head. He'd barely met her, but her reputation alone was enough. He could have laughed aloud, but such grandiose arrogance was the downfall of emperors, princes, businessmen, politicians, Jedi and Sith alike...He smiled slightly instead. His heart pounded with the slow, rhythmic pulse of a person accustomed to patience; his palms itched with fresh sweat, despite the cool breeze, his eyes itched it to close even briefly. He didn't dare blink, in case he should in that split-second miss his prey. Reflecting briefly on his career over the last two-and-a-half years, he wondered how he had ended up in this mess.

 

It had probably been about the time that they'd shut up the Jedi Temple on Coruscant...he'd been out of work, then, and had quickly fallen in with the one recourse of the hopeless, desperate and broke: Republic Intelligence. That had probably been his first mistake. His second had been accepting their first mission for him based on the pay-packet alone. Naturally, it had turned out a lot more dangerous and a lot less of the run-of-the-mill reconnaissance work he'd been led to believe it would be. Naturally, too, it had involved infiltrating the Exchange. To do that, he had needed a guise that was useful to the Exchange. So he'd become a bounty hunter; scum of the universe, loathed by all, feared by most with any sense.

 

It had all seemed so simple at the time. But that was six months ago, in a tapcafe in a narrow side-street on Alsakan. This was Nar Shadaa, and far from the seedy atmosphere and tasteless juma of that hole, 'though by Nar Shadaa standards it was a swanky affair for only the highest quality type of customer - for one thing, it accepted only customers who paid. Right now, he wished he wasn't freezing to death on the rooftop of the nastiest kind of public house with the nastiest kind of reputation, about to shoot a nasty, small-time crook simply because she'd got above herself.

 

There was a phut, and a small dart landed in his right shoulder, stinging him. Someone breathed in his ear seductively. A cold, numb feeling began to creep slowly from the wound.

 

"I wouldn't bother trying anything funny right now. The nerve toxin you've just taken an unhealthy dose of acts slowly, but it can be sped up by...unnecessary struggling. And that would be a shame, because I do hope we could have some fun first. Now, handsome, you are going to count to thirty, and then meet us in the side-street below."

 

He considered his options, and followed the whisperer's orders. It was as gloomy as early closing day in the Uscru District on Coruscant in the narrow passage, and far less salubrious. Two shadowy Twi'lek females appeared, silhouetted in the gloom, a little too shrouded by the midnight mists to be distinguishable.

 

"You know, you could have just asked.", he commented, knowing full well that that wasn't their style.

 

"Oh, but where's the fun in that?"

 

One of them came forward, pouting in a way he didn't altogether like: Teer'aa, he thought, although it was difficult to tell.

 

The other, more serious, strode further toward him.

 

"Leave this one alone. She…insulted us before she annoyed the Exchange; she is ours."

 

"I think not."

 

They turned as if to go, and began to walk away, slowly, then stopped abruptly.

 

"Oh, now don't ruin all th-"

 

He croaked, and fell forward, hitting the ground with a hollow thud.

 

They spun around, hearts pounding and blades drawn. In his back, someone had carved the letter "Grek" with a neat, stiletto blade, now easily made out by the blood blooming from it into his loose, dark tunic.

 

Deesra Luur Jada was dead. In the near distance, a woman screamed and her pain re-echoed in the rage of the Twin Suns.

[Emperor Devon]

You're better than you give yourself credit for on the chatbox, DI.

 

I liked! The chosen topic was original, the Twin Suns were in-character, and just about every literary element I can think of was done well. The only things I thought could've used some improvement the pacing - it tends to drag a bit at first due to the absence of dialogue.

 

My score: 8.5/10

[Bee Hoon]

I quite enjoyed it:) Just one thing... It's pretty hard to see blood against dark fabric, so they wouldn't have seen "Grek" clearly. Plus, why did the screaming woman feel pain? I don't think she knew him, or at least there was no indication that she did.

[Sabretooth]

That's some mighty good work there, Insidious! It could use some retouching, because as is mentioned above me, it tends to lag in the beginning. Later it gets real exciting.

 

I liked the concise length, though I wouldn't have minded a paragraph or two of more flesh. Otherwise, it is a sweet, enjoyable read!

[RC-1162]

Nice work there, Insidious. I got mildly confused about events after the dart, but I read it again and things cleared up. Your writing is definitely very good, though you could be slightly more descriptive about the characters. And was 'Grek' carved deeply into his back? Because if it was just a skin-wound, he wouldn't have died.

 

All in all though, it was a very interesting read. Well done!

[JasraLantill]

I liked the Twin Suns in this one. Very much in-character for them. Nicely done!

[Jae Onasi]

I agree the Twin Suns were in character. I fact, I would have liked to see more dialog with them. I was a bit lost on how the woman, the Twin Suns, and Deesra all fit together. The descriptions were very nicely done.

[Empress Padme]

Minor re-touching but beyond that very fun read.