Secret Admirer (completed)

[Lilaena De'Ville]

She'd met him once before, in a cafe on Thyferra. She had not known who he was, nor had he any inkling of who she had been. The fact that her face was splashed on the Empire's 'Most Wanted' list (though it was grainy and hard ot make out) had probably changed that for him.

A little research into the remaining leaders of a weakened Empire had turned up the name Khendon Sevon to go with a face she had suddenly remembered. He'd complimented her, but she had sensed his darker intentions for a rendevous later. Lilaena had had work to do, and hadn't given the man any further thought... until now.

She was tailing his motorcade of speeders through the midnight skies of Coruscant, somewhere near the equator. A large, man-made sea was enclosed somewhere nearby, supported by apartment buildings most likely. Coruscant made her dizzy if she thought about the layers of buildings too much.

It was full of memories, as well.

Lilaena saw where Sevon's speeder parked and the man got out. She was coming up to it, and boldly turned in, pulling her dark blue closed speeder to the curb as well. It seemed to be a hotel of some sort, or perhaps apartments for the immensely wealthy.

A dark armored trooper approached the speeder, and she stepped out delicately to the duracrete and straightened her dress. There were no cries of recognition, but she had not thought there would be. The most easily identifiable feature of her mugshot was a dark stain of black that marked her face, and she had stopped wearing it once the list had come out with her on it. Instead there was a thin, smooth scar that ran above and below her left eye.

The nearest trooper spoke, it's voice a staticky rumble. "You'll have to wait here ma'am."

She pouted a little, seeing that it was a hotel. "But I'm trying to get to my room!" Lilaena was statuesque in a sleek black and white number that hugged her muscular curves. Sevon was looking in her direction and she caught his eyes for a moment before returning her attention to the stormtrooper. He might have recognized her, and she hoped that her original thoughts had been correct.

He would be intrigued at her appearance, and quite possibly would want to entertain her. In the way he liked the best.

If she was wrong, well, that would mean a fight right here and perhaps her death. But she was as good as dead anyway, and her revenge against the Empire had to start somewhere. Instead of two assassinations (cleverly taken care of by the Rebellion at Endor), she was faced with a multitude of heads on her chopping block.

Choosing Sevon as her first was a test. If she passed, then she was indeed worthy to continue what her late master had tried to start. She tossed her speeder keys to a valet as Sevon was escorted into the hotel, and then the trooper allowed her to move forward.

[Khendon Sevon]

Again the Executor found himself staring down the barrel of a deadly weapon with energy coiled, ready to spring forward like a venomous serpent and remove his head from his shoulders at the slightest sign of weakness. It was the constant story of being an extremely high ranking officer of the Empire, and that definitely didn’t make it anymore enjoyable. With authority came responsibility. Khendon didn’t want to answer to anyone.

Several hours of paperwork waited in his private room, diligently placed on a large, oak desk by his aids. The room would be bathed in shadows, just as he liked it, and quiet—very, very quiet.

A few well brewed drinks with medium froth and full taste would be chilled and in the fridge, or, maybe, just maybe, there would be a bottle of something strong and flavorful. Never the less, the night’s duties would be lessened by the gentle hands of a select liquor.

Just as Khendon’s taste buds were working themselves into a parched frenzy, something caught the corner of his eye. It was a shape, firm and young. It was someone he had seen once. She was an individual that carried risk and adventure in an attractive, toned package.

The Executor turned toward the guardsmen to his side and whispered, “Let her in. Don’t stop her, no matter where she tries to go. Cut the security cameras from the global network, I’ll file the paperwork in the morning.

“Sergeant, make sure the building is secure from the outside, loosen it on the inside… and make sure no word of her arrival reaches any non Office personnel. I don’t want any Inquisitors in on this, and definitely no regular military. They’ll only ruin it.” A slight nod affirmed the commands.

This might be an exciting night, after all.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

Lilaena walked boldly into the lobby, playing with her hair as though she hadn't a care in the world. There was a group of people getting ready to go up the turbolifts, and she took her place with them.

A young man in the group smiled at her, and she returned the expression, adding a little giggle as her cheeks colored slightly. His smile remained as the 'lift arrived and everyone got inside.

"What floor, Miss?" The kindly older man who stood in the turbolift addressed her, and she managed another blush.

"The twenty-fourth. Thank you," she added, as he pressed the call button for the tenth floor.

The man who'd caught her eye earlier also requested the twenty-fourth floor. A complication. Not too difficult to take care of, however. Sevon was on the top floor in the penthouse suite, only one floor up from where she was stopping. There was also a private turbolift that went directly to his suite, but it had been guarded by a trooper and so not worth the effort.

Lilaena looked up at the corner of the turbolift where a tiny security camera was perched. It stared blankly back at her, a reminder of how her face had gotten onto the 'list' in the first place. No matter. If after Sevon's death they picked up on her presence in the hotel she didn't care. It would be much too late by then.

The 'lift reached the tenth floor and stopped, letting out Lilaena and the young, smiling man. She ignored him, walking towards the end of the long hallway.

[Khendon Sevon]

What would this night hold for the Executor of the Empire?

The Imperial wondered that exact question himself as he leisurely opened the heavy, ornate doors to his suite. Instantly, the warm embrace of shadows greeted him. “Perfect,” a tired smile crept on his mildly tan face—the color he had gained on a recent mission was already fading and his skin was becoming milky again.

With a click, Khendon opened a small ‘fridge. Amber light spilled from the small doorway and cast its oval glow on the black-bathed room. The angles of the Sith’s face were brought out by the sudden shift in contrast.

Yet another smile grew on the man’s face as he pulled a chilled bottle from the cold womb. With excitement growing in his chest, the Executor shut the ‘fridge door and took a seat behind the large, dark-wood desk that overlooked the main room.

Khendon poured himself a glass of the cool liquid and swirled it around its crystal container. A short sip flooded the man’s taste buds with the aged flavors of the dark fluid.

The officer removed his jacket, threw aside his dress coat, undid his collar, and rolled up his sleeves. His gray military shirt accented his silvery eyes as he cast them to a bulge in his coat’s pocket. From within the discarded leather heap he retrieved his family saber.

Delicately, the Executor placed the cylindrical weapon on his desk. The runes etched deep in the gun-metal surface resonated ever so slightly in the shadow cloaked chambers of the Sith and brought a smile to the warrior’s face.

“I’m waiting,” he mused. Maybe I was wrong? Was it really her? The drum in Khendon’s chest picked up slightly and excitement clawed at its restraints—begging to be freed.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

Lilaena almost giggled as she caught sight of a vent opening, remembering her mad scramble through the conduits on Thyferra to escape IG-88. As entertaining as wriggling through vent systems was, she was certainly not dressed for it.

Well, not at the moment, anyway.

The hallway was lined with large potted plants that nearly reached the ceiling. Lilaena slid beside one and quickly stripped out of the slinky cocktail dress she'd been wearing, revealing a tight black ensemble of tank top and tiny shorts underneath. The dress folded down to almost nothing and disappeared into her purse after she extricated her lightsaber from it.

The purse was stashed inside the potted plant, and she took a scant moment to cast about with the Force, feeling for life upstairs. She'd studied the layout of the penthouse, and knew that directly above her was a hallway that led to the second refresher. It was probably not in use, as there was a much larger 'fresher attached to the master bedroom. The Force indicated that all was quiet above.

The Jedi stretched her leg up and caught a toe on the edge of the decorative wood accent about three feet off the ground, and pushed herself up, swinging her other foot into the strong branches of the plant next to her. The plant creaked as she ignited her saber and made a circular hole in the ceiling, cutting through ceiling and floor and insulation alike. A gust of warm air blew down, and she silently cursed. She'd cut the pipe that fed the climate regulator to the penthouse - Sevon might notice it, but he might not think anything of it.

She'd cut the hole at an angle, and it needed no holding as Lilaena disengaged her lightsaber and hopped down quietly to the hallway floor. She pushed the section of ceiling up and over, and jumped straight up and through the hole.

Landing like a cat with her feet on either side of the hole she'd created, the dark haired woman quickly stood to one side and replaced the section she'd carved out. Silently, hardly breathing, she listened, hearing nothing.

Something bothered her about the elevator ride she'd taken up, but she pushed it aside in her eagerness and crept down the hallway towards the larger living areas.

[Khendon Sevon]

Khendon closed his eyes and took another sip of the aromatic drink in his glass. He allowed the liquor to burn his mouth for a moment before letting it slide, smooth, down his throat. There was only a mild bite, but it was enough to curb the anxiety growing in the Executor’s mind.

She wasn’t coming. There was no way she would take so long. He had virtually opened the doors and invited her in; yet, she was still not standing before him. Khendon let out a held breath and rubbed at his still closed eyes.

The room was silent and completely still save for the movement of air through filters. Even this sound barely was noticed by the inward-turned mind of the Sith. Instead, he mulled over the foolishness of letting a known terrorist go unchecked.

Khendon’s hand, now cold from constant contact with the drink and condensation on the crystal, brought the dark liquid to his lips again. He drank until the end of what he had poured and settled into his comfortable leather chair. Warmth grew around the Executor as the alcohol’s first advanced scouts found place in his blood.

The room was so calm, so serine, so completely motionless. He opened his eyes and smirked.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

She stood in the shadows of the hallway, against the wall and just able to peek into the larger room. The Executor was sitting at his desk, a cyclindrical objext in front of him and an empty glass in his hand.

Lilaena zeroed in on the object on the desk, noting what it was. A thread of uncertainty wove it's way into her plans and threatened to unravel them. Sevon had a lightsaber. Either it was a trophy, or it was his. In any case, it was a weapon that could counter hers, and made him a much greater threat whether he had training in it's use or not.

He was smirking, watching his front entry through lidded eyes, unaware of her presence to his right. Her heart sped up a little at the thought of him glancing over and spying her in the shadows of the passage. It would be so easy...

But, he didn't. And he still had that lightsaber, even if he was pouring himself another glass of whatever he'd been drinking and pulling out a datapad to read. For a moment, she didn't know what to do - stay where she was and wait for him to discover her, or jump out into the middle of the room and surprise him.

Frellit, she thought, and ignited her blue lightsaber, taking one step so she stood just out of the hall and in the half light of the room. And then she remembered what it was that had bothered her about the elevator ride up. The security camera had displayed no little indicator light. It hadn't been on.

"I believe you were expecting me, Executor."

[Khendon Sevon]

Not exactly as Khendon had expected, never the less, he would adapt—another thing a high ranking Imperial officer had to learn to stay alive.

The Sith took in a sharp breath and smirked, “Why don’t you put that away and we can talk like civilized adults? If not…” his silver eyes flashed threateningly at her for a moment. “Well, why don’t you have a drink?”

Khendon set his own glass on the dark-grained table and turned a clean crystal container right side up. He poured an equal amount of the flavorful liquor in each and made a gesture towards the chair opposite his desk.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

"I didn't come here to talk." Lilaena put her free hand out and snatched the lightsaber off his desk with the Force as he poured her a drink.

"I came here to kill you." She walked towards him, her lightsaber leveled at him.

[Khendon Sevon]

“To kill me?” Khendon grunted in amusement, “you and every other bastard in the Galaxy, Lady.” The Imperial mused with his glass for a moment then set it down.

“Your anger makes you strong,” his silver eyes gave her the once over, “It boils from your heart like magma flows from a planet’s core.” The Executor’s stood slowly and took a few steps towards the fiery woman.

“It excites you, doesn’t it?” Khendon’s own voice sounded like it was under the ecstasy of his monologue, “that pounding in your chest, the fire in your mind!” He maintained his hands open and facing his would-be assassin.

“It gives you direction, Lilaena,” he pronounced the name like an exotic spice, “it drives you… feeds you.”

[Lilaena De'Ville]

This was going to be easier than she'd anticipated since figuring out he knew she was coming. As he blathered on, she took step towards him and lunged forward with lightsaber extended to pierce him through the heart.

[Khendon Sevon]

Khendon turned his chest and leaned out of the way of the saber thrust, the Force providing him cat-like balance. So much for smooth talking, he thought as his mind prepared for the dance of combat.

There wasn’t much else to do, years of engaging hostiles had taught Sevon one tactic. That simple concept quickly went into play as the Executor sent a reflexive snap-kick at Lilaena’s weapon wielding hand. Disarm, the word shot like fire through his thoughts.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

She almost dropped her lightsaber when he kicked her hand, but instead he mashed her fingers against the hilt and the lightsaber deactivated. As she balanced herself she ignited the saber that she'd taken off his desk, swinging it towards him towards him from his right.

Her fingers stung, but she re-activated her weapon, it's blue blade lighting up the room.

[Khendon Sevon]

In a fight, to think was to die. Reaction had to be trained. Muscles were required to build a memory for different reflexive motions. Repetition was the key to survival. No mistakes could be afforded.

Khendon had made a mistake. No point in dwelling on it. Just react. Move. Move.

The Executor’s balance suddenly shifted and he back flipped out of reach of his assailant’s weapons. In that instant, he called upon the flow of the Force. It stood ready, like a river blocked up by man’s hand, and he demanded it knock down the dam’s doors.

In a rush of telepathic power, Khendon sent his desk sliding across the floor toward Lilaena to cover his landing. As his feet found contact, he focused more on the act of forcing the object onward and added concentration and power to the action.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

The man spun away and out of reach and the lightsaber hit nothing. Anger mounting, Lilaena leapt up on top of the desk as it slid towards her and somersaulted off the other side.

She landed softly on both feet in a dueller's stance, the blue blade held in front of her and the second, whitish blade held at arms length behind her, the business end pointing towards it's master.

[Khendon Sevon]

“Oh, the drama,” mumbled Khendon, “how much more of this are you willing to do? Aren’t you getting bored already?” He grinned and began unbuttoning his shirt, his lean muscles and tan flesh appearing.

Every move of his wrist had a weight to it; he was still prepared to fight. “Now what?” he removed the dress shirt and threw it to the ground. His arms were covered in black-ink, tattoos that spit the acrid Sith tongue into the room.

Khendon listened to the hum of the sabers and his grin widened. “Now what?” The Executor’s martial arts roots were beginning to show. He took on a powerful defensive stance in the style of House Heladune. With left leg forward and right leg firmly planted, he bounced idly on his toes, shifting weight slightly from fore to back. The Executor brought his left arm over his chest and allowed his right to form a right angle with his shoulder.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

She stared at him a moment, a little flabbergasted at his response. "You do realize that you can't possibly block a lightsaber with your bare arm."

Lilaena quirked and eyebrow up, and caused his discarded shirt to rise up and wrap around his face. As this happened, she leapt forward, dual lightsabers twirling and intent on taking any limbs that happened to be in the way.

[Khendon Sevon]

No eyes, that’s alright. You know what to do. It wasn’t even a thought, more like an adaptation. Years ago, what seemed to be a lifetime ago, in the blinding snowstorms of Hioni, Khendon would train with his father atop heaven-touching peaks. The lessons of those labored battles had paid off many times in the Executor’s career. So would they again.

The Force turned tactile and sensations of distance and shape along with emotion became clear as sight.

Khendon knelt under the first sweeping twirl, pushed firmly against the ground, lifted himself off the floor with one arm and inverted his body to avoid the next attack. He then pushed off the weight strained appendage and tucked his body into a tight roll low in the air.

The Executor touched the wall with his feet and sent himself a few meters behind his assailant, landing in a roll to absorb the momentum. He stood and blew out a single heavy breath. The scent of burnt flesh wafted into the room. A single crimson mark cut across his chest, a close call between Khendon and the dancing lights of plasma.

A smile crossed the Executor’s face as he finally removed the shirt. “The weapon is only as good as the fighter,” his gray eyes brightened in emphasis.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

Furious, she stayed her hand a moment longer, and asked, "You are trained in the ways of the Force. How have you survived this long under the Emperor's nose? Unless he knew about you."

Her face darkened at the thought of this man receiving personal training from Palpatine himself, and lunged at him again, trying to sever his head before he could answer.

[Khendon Sevon]

Khendon was beginning to enjoy the game. A quick and nimble sidestep brought him out of harm’s reach and he attempted to keep his distance from his assailant. “So, you know my story,” a smirk formed on his red lips, “what’s yours?”

The pain of seared flesh kept the Executor in reality. This was a battle; he would treat it like one. With a flick of his wrist, the heavy jacket that had been thrown aside rustled. From within the folds of the worn Imperial garb burst a cylinder. The shimmering hilt found itself snuggly in Khendon’s waiting hand.

With the classic snap-hiss of an igniting lightsaber, another silver glow added its color to the dancing hues of the room. Tight in a two-handed grip, Khendon brought the brilliant blade over his head in a very aggressive stance and slowed his footwork, he was allowing her to make the first move—as he was sure she would.