Run Lupine Run (Vega)

[Arya Ravenwing]

Thin and hungry, Arya blinked at the bright sunlight on the landing pad she was being escorted out to. Executor Sevon was as good as his word, and The Wing of the Raven was waiting for her, smelling of freedom.

The shapeshifter scratched at her temple, where thin scars had formed just below and into her hairline. The wounds sustained from silver did not heal as quickly as she was used to. She walked towards the freighter, running her hands along the hull. A stormtrooper opened the hatch for her, extending the ramp. They'd redone her security codes, she noticed, trying not to glare at the troopers too much. After all, she was free to go.

Arya pulled her thin nerfhide jacket around her, and walked up the ramp, boots clunking against the deck plating. "Thanks for everything, fellas, but I can take it from here."

The stormtroopers who'd escorted her to the ship were waiting silently. "I'm not going to tip you, if that's what you're waiting for." She slapped her palm against the controls, retracting the ramp and closing up the freighter. Mortie was nowhere to be found, but the tiny blob had most likely jumped ship while it was impounded. Or was hiding somewhere, waiting to surprise her when she least expected it.

She slid into the pilot's seat, and started up the engines. Go find s'Ilancy, they told her. Yeah, she'd look for the woman, but first she had something to do.

Wing of the Raven took off from the landing pad, soaring into the Coruscant sky.

[Vega Van-Derveld]

Not long after the departure of the Wing of the Raven the second of the Executor's recently released prisoners was escorted to one of Coruscant's many launchpads. His eyes narrowed against the harsh light of day, though were soon spared the strain as the bulk of a ship obscured the sun. The patrol of stormtroopers that had served as an escort, whilst making sure to maintain a fair cautious distance from their charge, gave a brisk salute, signaling their arrival.

Disdain was evident in Vega Van-Derveld eyes, as he looked over the assembled soldiers and recalled his own time as a buckethead. He had moved on to greater things now. His first task, as the bloodhound of the Imperial Executor Khendon Sevon, was to follow and monitor Arya Ravenwing. Sevon had entreated Ravenwing with a mission of some personal interest and importance, and it fell to Van-Derveld to ensure that the smuggler did not become sidetracked along the way.

Along with his traveling companion and slave Sibylle, he boarded the YT-1930 Voracious – once badly damaged, but now given a second-wind by the Executor's mechanics. With Vega at the controls, the ship made a beeline for the stars above. Its long-range sensors activated, a course was set to follow in the wake of the Wing of the Raven, keeping at all times a fair distance behind. Until the time at which Arya landed, Vega was free to acquaint himself with his prey - reviewing the data that Sevon had provided on the smugglers unique species...

[Arya Ravenwing]

She was greenlit for departure and didn't have to wait around for permission from sector authorities to break for open space. The smuggler throttled up while the navcomp spit out coordinates to her destination: Nar Shaddaa.

Smashing in someone's head would make her feel better about her predicament. After all, if someone hadn't doubled up on the shipment to Corellia, she never would have been captured by the Imperials in the first place. The Chevvette77 freighter eased into hyperspace, and Arya headed for her bunk to rest. No one was going to pop around the corner and jab her with a shockprod, hopefully, and she was exhausted.

beep beep beep

Arya pried open her eyes, glaring at the alert light on the wall. "What now?" All she wanted to do was sleep. No, wait. The smuggler looked at the chrono. "Frelling..." She sat up and swung her legs over the side of her bed. She didn't even remember falling asleep!

She got to the cockpit in time to monitor the reversion to real space. The Smugglers Moon and it's orbiting ring of decrepit and derelict ships and other space garbage filled her viewscreen. Home sweet home. Arya took the controls to manually fly through the debris field.

[Vega Van-Derveld]

As well as making some improvements to the Voracious, the Imperial mechanics had taken the liberty of installing a number of devices on board the Wing that would allow Vega to keep up with his vagrant prey. The first of which would allow Van-Derveld to monitor all communications to and from Arya's ship, whilst the second would enable him to keep track of her ships jump. It was this latter device that found him breaking into the orbit of Nar Shaddaa, a well-known haunt for Ravenwing's ilk. Vega had experienced first hand the depravity of the Smugglers Moon as part of an Imperial garrison; it was a dark place, amongst whose lowlifes he was sure he would blend-in quite nicely.

[Arya Ravenwing]

After landing the empty freighter, Arya used the ship's comm to dial up an old friend.

"Cloo here."

"Cloo, old buddy. Its Ravenwing." She made a strangling pantomime with her hands.

"Ravenwing? What are you doing here!?" The Rodian sounded positively thrilled to hear from her. In a oh-gods-she's-going-to-kill-me sort of way.

"Oh you know, looking up my old friends." Arya pulled her blaster and checked to make sure the powercells were full. They were.

"Anything Cloo can do for you, you let me know." Talking about himself in the third person. Definetely nervous.

She smiled, "Well, there is something you can do."

"Oh? Is it information you need?" She could almost see his antennae sticking up hopefully. "About last time, Cloo didn't know about the other contractor. I swear it! And then the Empire getting wind of it -"

"Yes, I know. You had no idea. I'm sure I'll forgive you. After you're dead." Arya broke the connection, stalking out of the cockpit and then out of the ship. Blaster in a shoulder holster, railgun on her hip, and full of anger. She stole a swoop bike from a Bothan that was looking the other way, and made her way down... down into the depths of Nar Shaddaa. Cloo was going to pay.

[Vega Van-Derveld]

A district away, a Razalon FC-20 speeder bike screeched out of the hull of the Voracious. From eavesdropping, it seemed that Arya's first port of call was to deal with the being that had landed her in the hands of the Imperials. Knowing what Ravenwing was capable of, at least according to the dossier he had been provided with, Vega almost pitied the poor creature – yet was eager to see, with his own eyes, what the smuggler was capable of. Careening through the streets, he felt corruption and darkness all around him. The pain and suffering was almost palpable, and he saw marks of weakness and woe in the blurred faces of every civilian he shot by. The city was teeming with life and none of it pleasant.

Vega swerved to a halt by a group of furious locals, who were fuming over the lack of security and law enforcement in the city. One man claimed that his house had been ransacked, whilst another – a Bothan – was fuming over having his swoop stolen less than a minute ago. A bystander jabbed an accusing finger down a street to the left, claiming that the 'bitch' who had taken the bike had gone that way. It was a sign from the Force. Vega followed the lead willingly.

[Arya Ravenwing]

The feeling of the wind in her hair was exhilarating, but she took the time to figure out how she was going to get into Cloo's place of business. In the end, the simplest plan won out.

Several levels below where she'd started, Arya parked the bike and dismounted, pulling her railgun free from its holster. It boasted projectile rounds that would blow craters in duracrete and punch holes in transparisteel. It had quite a kick to it too, but she'd learned how to compensate for that shortly after getting it.

"Cloo, you stupid bastard." She edged up to the door along the wall, and extended her arm, using the muzzle of the railgun to knock on it.

"Who... who's there?" The Rodian sounded like he was throwing everything he owned into a crate. She had no idea what he was doing inside.

"Who do you think it is?" Arya snarled, and he answered by opening fire on his door from the inside. Green bolts of energy shot out from the smoking door, enough to put down a bantha. She smirked to herself, and waited for him to empty his power cell. There was some scuffling going on inside, and then the remnants of the door opened.

The smuggler held her position, 'gun in hand and ready to shoot at whatever came out. She eased her finger on the trigger...

...and stopped short of squeezing it when the being that appeared was Cloo's beautiful, but brainless, secretary. She was crying, and looked scared to death as she timidly peered out of the ruined doorframe. Arya met her eyes as the woman looked to the left, and grabbed the front of her shirt, yanking the secretary out of the doorway and to the other side of her.

Too terrified to scream, the woman went crosseyed as Arya shoved the end of the railgun against her nose. "Get the hells out of here, and if you know what's good for you, you won't come back." The smuggler shoved her, and the woman stumbled before picking herself up and running away. Scowling, Arya flipped around the corner of the doorframe and into the room.

There was no one in sight. She shot the dataprocessor on the desk, monitor and casing exploding impressively. "I know you're here Cloo!" Arya sniffed the air, separating the smell of fear apart from the odor of blaster fire. Ah, hiding I see. She crept forward, silent as a cat.

[Vega Van-Derveld]

Fortunately for Vega, it was a slow day for the outlaws of the Smugglers Moon, otherwise following Arya's trail might have been difficult. He came across a woman, collapsed and weeping, and dismounted his speeder to investigate. She saw him approaching, and scrambled backwards, pressed against the grimy wall of the alley she'd stumbled into. Already nigh hysterical, the sight of a marauding stranger like Vega was almost enough to push her over the edge.

“Calm yourself, woman. What's the matter?” His voice was like cold steel. Obscured by the shadows, she wondered if he was, in fact, some kind of android. She took a ragged breath, her hysteria somehow subdued in spite of her fear, and through convulsing sobs explained that she almost just been shot. Amidst the whimpers, Vega caught the name Cloo and a grin began to form on his lips. His office was only a short distance away. Vega would make it there on foot, following the sound of blaster fire.

[Arya Ravenwing]

She found Cloo hiding in the refresher, and kicked in the door, leveling her railgun at his face before he could get his blaster up. Arya snatched it out of his hand and threw it into the toilet. "You knew all along, didn't you!"

The smuggler dragged the Rodian out of the 'fresher, his suckers grasping feebly at her arm as she propelled him into the middle of the office. She strong-armed him to the desk, and jerked her hand down, slamming his sensitive snout against the fake wood. "You sold me out you son of a Hutt. I hope you enjoyed what the Imps gave you."

"N-n-no! Noooo!" Cloo waved his suckered hands frantically as she pulled him back to his feet, bleeding from his nostrils. "It wasn't like that!"

"Like hells it wasn't." Arya pushed him backwards towards the lone window, and pulled the trigger on the railgun. The force of the projectile sent the Rodian crashing through the window, and blew a hole big enough for her head in his chest.

[Vega Van-Derveld]

“N-n-no! Noooo!” CRASH! The sound of glass spraying across concrete, and the dull thud of a body colliding against it all. The smell of burnt flesh filled Vega's nostrils, as he watched the still twitching Rodian from the murk of an alleyway. There was a little blood on the body, but it did not seem as if she had toyed with him. Death would come with merciful haste for this coward, he thought. Silent and still, he wondered who was next on her list to visit, and if any of them could expect the same treatment.

[Arya Ravenwing]

She stalked out of the broken door, and spat on the body. "No one frells with me, Cloo." Her eyes momentarily yellowed at the smell of death. No one was watching, and if they were, no one would care. No here, in Nar Shaddaa. A two-bit information broker and middle man wasn't worth that much.

In the end, the only person who cared about Cloo's life was Cloo himself. But then, he should have taken better care of it. Angrily, Arya kicked the dead body, then turned away, walking down a darkened alley towards her swoop. She could use a drink, and she knew just where to get it.

The smuggler paused mid-step, and her nostrils flared as she scented the alley. Turning and bringing up her weapon in one smooth motion, she cocked the railgun and saw... nothing. Arya's brow furrowed suspiciously. Someone had been there recently.

But her eyes could see no one, and reluctantly she put the gun back in its holster and continued to walk down the alley. Straddling the swoop she kicked it into high gear and took off. The Blind Bantha was one level down and several blocks away. She needed a beer.

[Vega Van-Derveld]

There was no clean-up job. The smoldering body would, in all likelihood, lie untouched for days. Perhaps then someone would chance on it and rifle through what was left of Cloo's pockets. A week or so later, the smell would begin to disturb the neighbors, who'd finally call the police in – more out of irritation than any concern for the poor, dead Rodian. It was a harsh life, one for which Vega had no sympathy.

He returned to his speeder, fishing out a small datapad. It was the reader for a small tracking device that he'd placed on Arya's bike while she was in the process of blowing a hole through Cloo. It would lead him right to her – and to The Blind Bantha. A bar, of course. Somehow, he doubted she had come here to continue her killing spree. He could see her just ahead, in the process of being looked over by a bouncer.

[Arya Ravenwing]

Arya snapped her jacket shut, flashing an angry look at the bouncer who'd taken just a bit too long to frisk her for hidden weapons. She locked up her railgun and blaster in the available rotating locker, and pocketed the key.

Straddling a bar stool she ordered a dark Chandrilan ale, served at room temperature. Three hours and seven more ales later, she was feeling warm and fuzzy inside and in need of the refresher. Getting down from the stool was easy enough, and she swayed through the crowded bar towards the back and the 'freshers. Everything was crazy.

Getting nabbed by the Imps, and not for being a smuggler, was crazy. Being tortured for information she didn't have was insane. Having dinner with the Executor of the Empire and then being sent on a wild nuna chase after someone who may or may not even exist (her bets were on not)... that was just her luck. Arya stumbled through the door of the 'fresher, and locked herself into a private stall to relieve her aching bladder.

She hated that Sevon was keeping her medallion as a barganing chip. Eventually... she'd get it back. There had to be a way. This s'Ilancy chick was a dead end and she only had the slightest idea as to where to start looking. Desert planets. That narrowed it down, but an entire planet was just a bit too big for one person to search. The smuggler leaned her warm forehead against the cool metallic stall dividers. Her frellin' medallion.

It pained her to write it off, but if that's what freedom entailed, she'd do it. Finishing up in the 'fresher, Arya pushed back into the main room of the Bantha, and bellied up to the bar again. She just wanted to forget all about it.

[Vega Van-Derveld]

When he had come under the leadership of the Imperial Executor, Vega had been promised blood and glory. Thus far he had seen little of either, and in fact been forced to while his hours away watching some two-bit smuggler beat her brains with one too many ales. It had been a week since Arya Ravenwing had returned to Nar Shaddaa, and all that she had accomplished in those seven days was to kill one Rodian and fatten the pockets of the owner of The Blind Bantha.

Vega nursed a drink for as long as he could, occasionally exchanging brief words with some surly local who would regale him with tales of how they had either just been the victim or perpetrated some heinous crime. At first he had suspected that perhaps the smuggler planned on meeting someone here, but soon came to the conclusion that assuming that Arya had some greater plan was, more likely than not, an overestimation of her faculties. With each passing hour, he grew more vexed.

Seeing that his glass was once again empty, Van-Derveld paced – frustrated – to the bar and ordered another Orryxian Catsblood. He had a feeling it was going to be another long and tedious night.

[Arya Ravenwing]

Arya was well into a bottle of Corellian whiskey when the bald headed stranger bumped into her at the bar. She turned to face him, frowning, and tried to focus on his features. "Whatchit, buddy."

He ignored her, waiting for his drink, something with cat blood in it. Or something. Like that. But not. Her thoughts seemed jumbled, and she didn't remember why she was so drunk, but she was determined to get even more drunk before she was done. There were things to forget, and she was the one to forget them.

The smuggler felt the urge to visit the 'fresher, and practically fell off her stool, knocking against the pale patron beside her and spilling his drink. "Sssorry," she slurred, hardly looking at him before stumbling towards the back of the bar.

[Vega Van-Derveld]

The Catsblood spilled over the already grimy bar floor. For a moment, Vega simply stared down at the ground, as though trying to stop his anger getting the better of him. What could Khendon possibly want from this woman? Yes, she was some unique species of shape shifter, but beyond that... she was just your average sauced-up spacer. Dabbing some blood from himself with a napkin, Vega turned to the bartender.

“Another?” he aksed, with a snaggle-toothed grin.

[Arya Ravenwing]

She missed the door to the 'fresher and was somehow outside in an alleyway behind the bar. Dizzily Arya stumbled, falling to her hands and knees in the filth. No, she didn't stumble - someone pushed her.

Dimly she was aware of male laughter. Two... no four beings. She glared at the ground, furious, but she couldn't seem to get her arms and legs moving properly. Her bile rose, and she vomited up a stomach full of whiskey.

She was too drunk. What was she thinking? The smuggler closed her eyes as rough hands pulled her to her feet, holding her up against the wall. They were talking, but her brain didn't seem to be able to comprehend what they were saying. One of the males, a human, pulled out a small vibroblade, switching it on.

Well, whatever they want, it isn't good. Her overactive metabolism was processing the alchohol she'd consumed... but she'd been drinking for nearly a week straight! She frowned as she remembered. Her unique metabolism was probably the only thing that had kept her from dying of alchohol poisoning.

The vibroblade sliced neatly through the front of her pants and shirt, and then it was put away. She was being held upright only by the men who were attempting to assault her, and the smelly human positioned himself in front of her, pulling at her cut clothing. The others released her arms, and Arya's head flopped forward, until she was looking the human in the eyes.

Hers gleamed yellow. "You don' wanna do this."

He paused, laughing, "Shut up bitch."

Well, I warned 'em. Before he could get any further with stripping her, Arya's hands came up and grabbed the sides of his head. She slammed her head into his nose, and the human fell down, yelling and grabbing his bloody nose.

She smiled at the others who were rushing forward, and Changed.

[Vega Van-Derveld]

Where was she? After all this time waiting, Vega wasn't about to have his mission end anti-climatically with Ravenwing choking to death on his own vomit. Leaving his drink on the bar, he paced towards the refreshers – only to hear an almighty roar going up outside of the bar. The back, down the corridor from the 'freshers, hung ajar. There were voices shouting and the sound of a beastly snarl. Stepping into the doorway, Van-Derveld saw what appeared to be a vornskr toying with a gang of men who didn't know when to quit. He stood perfectly still, curious to see what it – she – had planned for them.

[Arya Ravenwing]

The Beast was confused as to why she was so wobbly, but her teeth worked well enough still. The first man, the one with the busted nose, was the first to fall prey to the vornskyr's bite, his throat ripped out in an impressive spray of blood.

The other three had jumped backwards initially, but the violent end of their comrade emboldened them. Arya circled around, tail lashing behind her as they tried to surround her. One of them pulled a blaster, but his shot went wide as she leapt on him, claws as strong as durasteel digging into his chest as she snapped at the softness under his chin. The man went down like a hibernating wampa, but one of his buddies stupidly threw himself at the vornskyr to try to knock her off of her prey.

Arya yelped, blood on her beastial tongue from the artery she'd managed to tear before being thrown to the side. The friend was frantically trying to stop the flow of blood, his hands and arms quickly becoming coated. The vornskyr took a few moments to get to her feet, dry heaving a few times from her alchohol soured stomach.

There was a strong smell of fear in the alley, and she saw that the fourth would-be attacker had fled the scene, his scent trailing along behind him. No matter. Arya growled, pouncing on the third man and tearing into his stomach with her strong teeth.

[Vega Van-Derveld]

To anyone else, the sight of a rabid animal spilling blood and guts all across a dirty alley would have been revolting. To Vega, it was fascinating. Something had snapped in him long ago, some switch had flipped that had turned his morals on their head. He felt more affinity with this wild beast than he did with any man sitting in The Blind Bantha. It was violence in its purest form, driven by some primal force to exert a God-given right to supremacy. As much as he had grown to resent Ravenwing, he could not help but feel a small sense of awe in the presence of her Changed form. It was just as Khendon had described it – ruthless and deadly.