Darrix kept me sane. God help me, he really did- if it wasn't for him, I don't know what would have happened. I would have cracked- really joined the Vril sydicate, killed myself, killed a lot of other people... I can't be sure.

So when he asked me to meet him in the Drunk Corelian, I jumped at the chance. Hell, why wouldn't I- it was like getting out of the water and taking a breath of air, talking to him....
<hr>
Swaggering in, blaster both in easy reach and in plain view to anyone who could see through the alcohol-induced haze to look at him, Xarrin picked a booth at the back. Shrowded in shadow, it was just one of the so-called 'meeting spots' that the Drunk Corelian offered. Probably it's biggest draw, in fact.

That and the misspelling of 'Corelian', Thought Xar. These sleezy criminals and tired druggees always got a kick out of stupid jokes. Simple minds amused by simple things.

Sitting down with a haggared sigh, Xarrin looked up at the shadow-enshrouded face in front of him.

"Darrix."

'Xarry. Good to see you... the agency-'

"Cut the @#%$, Darr. Don't even say they're concerned- don't even say it. I know what Commander Glareson thinks of me."

'Look, Xarry, you've got us all wrong! We're just as concerned about you as Belle was.'

Xarrin gritted his teeth and visibly shuddered. Belle had cared too much, went looking for Xarrin, her husband, a little too deep, and got slagged by some drugged-up Vril thugs.

"@#%$, man. Why do you bring that up? Just get to whatever you came to tell me, so I can get out of here before some Vril henchman shows up to bust my ass."

Darrix shook his head. His friend had been on edge constantly since his wife's murder- always angry, always ready to kill on a moments notice. The only difference between him and the mobsters, these days, seemed to be his spot on the Coruscant Security payroll.

But he did a damn good job as an undercover agent- no one could deny that. No one.

'Alright. Look, something big's going down-'

Not another word came out of Darrix' mouth, for the rest of eternity. With the whine of a blaster rifle, and the liquid slurp and crack of energy hitting flesh and discharging, Xarrin's Security Captain and last link to the world outside Coruscant gang life crumpled over the table. Acrid smoke rose into the air, and the sickening smell of burnt flesh licked at Xarrin's nostils.

The cop lept out of the booth, blaster pistol in his hand in an instant. He fired one shot, before leaping over the bar. Sitting against the shelves on the other side, Xar checked his blaster's power pack, slid his head and hands over the bar, and looked around. A figure moved among the horrified, silent faces, and leaping into the air, Xarrin fired two shots at it.

The tightly-packed bursts of energy lit the darkness. The thug, a rifle toting three eyed alien, was hit in the arm by the first blast. His rifle flew through the transparisteel, shattering it. The second caught him in the chest, flash frying him to death and sending him through the window with his blaster. The gangster hit the ground with a crunch of glass and bone.

Running forward, and jumping out the window, Xarrin hit the ground and looked left, then right. Retrieving that rifle, that paranoid sensation he would come to know so well set in. The alien trailed him... the Vril sydicate knew about him. Cursing, Xarrin looked up at a news ticker on the side of a nearby building.

And wished he hadn't.

<h3>Security Captain Darrix Xalin implicated in drug smuggling scandal, brought down at Drunken Corelian by security Lieutenant. Xarrin Crae implicated as accomplice, murdered Lieutenant promptly after.</h3>

Covering his eyes and wondering how he'd gotten into this, Xarrin bent down over the corpse at his feet, and checked for CoruscSec I.D. None. No identifying marks, except for a Vril Syndicate tatoo. This was no Security Lieutenant. Which meant...

He'd been set up.
<hr>
I wish I'd known, it had only begun....

I guess it was kind of ironic, how they screwed Darrix over just to get at me. I'd always thought of him as one of them, one of the real Security officers. One of the guys who had a desk job, who didn't know what it was like undercover. You grab onto anything you have to remind you of who you really are, that you're not one of those scum... holos of family, friends, people who pass you by on the walkways that you recognize, who you can't say hello to, because you'd blow your cover. I had nothing, not a damn thing, anymore. I was on edge before... now, I didn't know how I felt.
<hr>
It was an ugly thing. The group of Swoop Riders descended on Xarrin as if a smokey fog upon an apocalyptic street. Bolts of laser energy flashed out, from hand-held blasters and front-mounted ones.

Xarrin narrowly avoided the shots, leaping behind a wall. With a crack, and a crumble, the bolts took out chunks in the building's side. Xar was pretty sure it was some sort of bank, but didn't really care that much, as he readied his blaster rifle. One of the Swoopers swung out, off of the walkway between buildings, and slashed forward towards Xarrin.

With a grunt, Crae lept into the air, grabbing hold of the rider by the scruff of his shirt, clenching it tight in his fist. Flying alongside the Swoop, holding on for dear life, Xar steadied himself. A single smash with the rifle to the chest of the gangster sent him swearing, scrambling to hold on. A tug pulled him off, and Xarrin on.

A fall, crunch, and the gangster's life was over.

Gritting his teeth and contorting his face into a mask that clearly said 'make my day', Xarrin swung his blaster carbine around, getting a bead on the nearest rider. Standing defiently, fighting hard to maintain control over the Swoop, Xarrin fired viciously, filling the area with laser fire. One struck one of the gang Swoopers in the chest, another in his head, and one more on his bike, sending him tumbling to the ground, already dead.

All at once, the air filled with so many red lasers, it looked like a Republic-day celebration. Xarrin had to wonder if he'd been shot, and was experiencing redening of vision before an impending death.

Luckily, it was no such thing.

Several of the bolts struck Swoopers, killing them instantly- indicative of highly powered shots.

'Crae, eez that you, my goood friend?'

The door of a speeder had opened, clearly identifying itself as the source of the fire- and revealing one of it's passengers.

"Zacharov Blazeris. Zack, how you been?"

'Well enough, all theengs conseedered. Get een, get een!'

Quickly dismounting and entering the hovering vehicle, Xarrin looked curiously at Zacharov. The oddly accented man was one of those really old-school style gangsters, who'd struck out on his own and carved a holding, but while staying to a strict moral code; that made him almost one of the good guys. And right now, he was as good as Xarrin was going to get.

"So what's this all about?"

'Xarry, Xarry! So suspeecious you are! Don't worry... we're on thee same side now, methinks!'

"How do you plot that course?"

'You've been framed, haven't you? Now who do you theenk did that?'

Xar laughed.

"I've got a few ideas."

'Yes, you see! Me too. Why not find out?'

"What did you have in mind?"

The mobster grinned.

'I was thinking a simple clean-up job. I've been having problems with those Vril you love so much-'

This elicited a wry chuckle from Xarrin.

'-and I need your help. They took a shipment of my Glitterstim... I need it back. You'll get your answers wherever you find the glitterstim.'

"Me? Help you? I think you just forgot which side I'm on."

'I theenk you just forgot you're wanted for murder. We're both on thee same side heere, Crae; we're both moral men. I know that you're on eedge, but the moment that news storee flashed up, you were past the point of no return-'

Xarrin just scoffed, eyes narrowing.

"Zack, I'm so far past the point of no return, I don't even remember what it looked like when I passed it. So where is this place?"

'Ah ah ah! Eet's not so seemple. You need to talk to Jorge Fireno... Trez Vril's right-hand man.'

"I know about him."

'You're going to have to get it out of him.'

"Get it out of him?"

'You know what I meen.'

"Yeah."
<hr>
I don't know if I trusted Zack. But he was the closest thing to an ally I had- and the Force knows, at that point, it seemed like all of Coruscant had turned against me....

Even when I'd pretended to object to working for Zack, the option of not doing so had never even occured to me. I was just letting loose the demon's I'd kept inside since my wife's death- and since I was letting them loose on gangsters, crime lords, killers, rapists, and drug dealers, I didn't feel bad about it at all.
<hr>
With a whine of defusing repulsorcoils, the speeder set down in the shadow cast by a skyscraper. Then again, it was hard to consider anything on Coruscant a skyscraper- the entire planet was made up of them. Like a verticle city.

The building had a warehouse built into it, at this level- large, but not huge. Probably a few average stories tall. Just small enough to fall under CoruscSec's radar, just large enough to house a large shipment of spice. Despite Zack's mention that the spice shipment wasn't in this building, one had to wonder just what was...

'Find Jorge, Xarry! I want my sheepment.'

"I got it, Zack. When I need to be picked up... you'll know."

The door opened as Zacharov nodded. Stepping out into a night which suddenly seemed as cold as a Hoth winter without a thermasuit, Xarrin shivered. Was it really cold, or was it just him?
<hr>
<h3>Interlude</h3>
"Work for you, Darrix? Hell no. I don't want to go undercover in some smog-infested krif-hole."

They both laughed. It was easy to laugh- times were good. Xarrin's son was turning five, his wife was alive and beautiful.

'True enough, Xarry.'

"Ah well. I'll see you tomorrow, Dar- I'm going to go home early, spend some time with my son."

Darrix nodded, and Xarrin left. The flight home was an easy ride. Casual, relaxing- the whole world seemed to share Xarrin's satisfaction with his life. It was like a Sunday morning, when you wake up and realize you don't have to go to work.

It was a dream.

But dreams turn to nightmares, when you're not watching closely enough.

"Honey? Son? I'm home."

'Oh, hi, hun. Jakob is out playing on the sidewalk...'

"I'll go out and say hi."

Xar smiled. Say 'hi' to his son. His son. A dream.

Walking outside, it became a nightmare. The walkways between buildings on Coruscant had become the sidewalks of a planet with no ground. Sidewalks... and sometimes, battlefields.

"JAKE!!!"

The laser blasts poured out, filling either side with casualties. Like a light show gone wrong, innocent bystanders in the way scrambled for cover. Screaming.

Dying.

Screaming.

SCREAMING!

His son... dead... everything ripped apart in a Coruscant minute.

And as Xarrin Crae would soon come to realize...
<hr>
... Everything is a scream when the world's turned against you.

Walking along, still cold as a hairless wampa, Xarrin pulled out his blaster rifle. Aiming it at the large door in front of him, he paused. Not the best way in. Finding a smaller enterance, a door, probably the one Fireno used, Xarrin fired several times, until it was weak enough to be kicked down.

After walking through a short hallway, the realization of just what the warehouse was hit him like a moon into Sernpidal.

It was a weapons warehouse.

Full of weapons which would allow the war that killed his son to rage on.
<hr>
Inside my heart, I knew, right then and there, that this wasn't going to be over until the Vril, and Trez Vril, were down in a pool of their own ionized blood.

By this time, I was just too pissed off to give a damn what happened to me. I was going to see Fireno dead, and then I was going to see Trez Vril dead, and I was going to kill his whole family. I was consumed with rage; I wanted nothing more than to kill them both and go down in a blaze of glory.
<hr>
"Jorge Fireno."

The slightly bald, slightly graying man turned around, grunting and twittling his mustache as he saw Xarrin swagger in. That 'make my day' look was painted unerasably across his face, with a pistol in one hand and a carbine in the other.

'Crae. What the hell are you doing here, you damn punk? SecOff! I knew there was something screwy about you all along.'

"Well, you're ugly and stupid, so we were both hiding something from each other."

The old man cracked up easily, belying the uneasy look on his face. His torso moved back as he rolled with laughter, and on impulse, Xarrin's blasters were forward and trained on Fireno's head. A blaster, just as Crae predicted, was in the mob boss' hand when his torso slung back forward, but a perterbed look crossed his face when he realized Xar was just too quick for him.

'Oh, ho ho, a quick one, are you? Son of a bitch cop. I think you've forgotten who's place this is, walking in here and waving your guns like I'm gonna care. You kill me, you're dead, Crae.'

The self-satisfied smirk Jorge was known for stretched his face. Xarrin just grimaced, and with a swift stroke, smashed the bastard in the face with his carbine, knocking him to the ground.
<hr>
<h3>Interlude 2</h3>

I hate being a pawn. If nothing else, I hate being a pawn- it's how my wife died.

When my son was killed, Narri was overcome with grief- as was I. She hardly ever left bed, and I joined the U.U.G.- the Undercover Units Group. Probably the most hated security devision on Coruscant; mothers who's sons are in it would sooner tell neighbours their child was off smoking glitterstim in a dark alley.

When Darrix told me my assignment was infiltrating the Vril sydicate, run by the infamous Trez Vril, I just smiled grimly and nodded.

But that nerf @#%$ Glareson used me...

He set my ass right up.

Sent me in on a bum job, tipped off the Vril, got me discovered. And tipped off my wife as to my whereabouts, so she could stumble in on it all. Just so he could nail Galock Shrai for murder of her. Oh, he denied it. And I pretended I believed him. But I didn't.

That lying ysalamari slime would get his, too...
<hr>
'Agh! You little pig...'

"You play, you pay, bastard. I want answers, now. You took a shipment from Zack! WHERE IS IT!?"

'I won't tell you, kriffer. My people will get in here in a minute, and you'll be dead as TIE exaust.'

Xarrin grabbed him by the front of the shirt and hoisted him into the air. The rogue cop was so high on his rage, it was as easy as lifting a wampa-fur cloth.

"I don't give a krif, Fireno! I want kriffing answers, and I want them now, or I'm going to beat you into slag and then hack it out of your datapad!"

'You wouldn't dare.'

"Kill you? Do you think I'm worried about police brutality, rancor-slop? I rank pretty highly on it, no point in trying to hide it."

'I don't know, your wife described you as-'

At the very mention of his wife, a rage and strength flowed into Xarrin. He screamed an indeciferable wail, and threw him forward, into a wall. His head smashed it hard, and duraplaster from it rained down on him as he fell then to the ground. Blood stained what was left of the room's side.

"BASTARD! I'LL-"

At that moment, the door swung open, and three men swaggered in calmly, seemingly unphased by their half-dead boss lying unconscious on the ground.

'Xarrin Crae. Hello. I'm Irick Tenn.'
<hr>
I figured the jig was up. Little did I know, allies would continue to come from mysterious places.

Like I said, how could I not think the jig was up? The enemy's Lieutenant walks into the room to find me in the process of killing his boss? But I got lucky; Irick was as duplicit as a Jawa.
<hr>
'Don't look so surprised, or worried. If I wanted you dead, I'd have gassed the room, or something mean like that.'

Xarrin fixed the man with a cold look. He'd had quite enough of smart-ass crooks waltzing in and shooting their mouths off like they were intimidating.

"Kriff off. I know who you are. You got something to say, or are you just going to stand there are talk smart?"

Irick smiled, and nodded.

'Yes, I understand the stress is eating at you-'

Without a word, and without even turning to face him, Xarrin lifted his pistol sideways and shot one of Irick's men the shoulder. The two-bit thug grabbed his wound and wailed like a Dagobahn witch, dancing like a gungan.

'YOU SHOT ME, DIPSH-'

'Tro, quiet. Alright, Crae. If you want me to be rude, I will.'

"Thank you."

'I can get you what you want. The old Starsmarkstin building, level 4302B, north side. Trez Vril's headquarters, and the location of your shipment.'

Xarrin snorted.

"Why the fracas are you telling me this? CoruscSec has been looking for it for... months."

Irick only shrugged, smiling enigmatically. Guys who smiled like that were hiding something, and Xarrin figured Tenn was hiding the fact he was a bastard. And a few other things.

'Jorge has been running a little side business for a long time. He's just no good at it- we could be rivaling Vril. You just did me a big favour- I'm repaying it.'

"If you tip him off, I'm dead."

'So you better not speak a word of this to a soul, or Force help me, your brains will be splattered on a wall. Eh?'

"True enough."
<hr>
I was one step closer to Vril, and even though I knew it, one step closer to hell. Irick was probably to be trusted, given what he had to gain from my stealing Trez's shipment... but when you do something stupid like what I was gearing up for, something always goes wrong.

The sirens of the police speeders mixed with the ringing in my ears turned into a wailing symphony of hatred, screaming bloody murder as if possessed by the devil himself. It was a cacaphony, singing praises to the Force, proclaiming the glory of Trez's impending death...
<hr>
Xarrin hovered along in the stolen speeder slowly, taking his time, trying to remember how he'd gotten into this. Not that it mattered now. Nothing did.

He just didn't care.

About Trez.

About Jorge.

About Zack.

About Irick.

About Glareson.

Not even about Darrix or Narri.

He'd let whatever god that had forsaken him worry about them. This was just about revenge; we was going to let all his anger out into the Vril Syndicate, and then it was going to be over. His troubled soul could rest, find peace, at last. Peace in his death, and the death of his enemies.

Demons danced in his head, laughing at him, like they'd done for years. They used to incite anger- now they brought nothing.

Because anger was all that he was.

He had reached the boiling point; rage had consumed him, saturating him with hatred and a will to inflict suffering. His morals, had they abandoned him?

No.

But when you look left and see evil, look behind you, and to the fore, and see evil, and look to your right to see the good fall, directing your rage becomes less of an issue.

It was all about revenge.

Something ugly this way comes.

Xarrin Crae at large.
<hr>
[i]Nothing needs to be said... lost in my thoughts, as if trying to make sense of my own actions; justifying myself to my own misplaced morals.

When I arrived at the Trez Vril's place, I figured I was ready. Ready for death, revenge, whatever came- I stepped out of that stolen speeder, guns in hand, trenchcoat packed with all the weapons I'd ever need, courtesy of Irick.
<hr>
Xarrin walked forward across the Coruscant walkway defiantly, even as two sentries sprinted forward at him. He raised his two pistols, one new, one old, and shot them both. One took it in the neck, the other in the head; both were dead before they hit the ground.

He calmly walked past both of them. Trez Vril's headquarters was a sleezy hotel, at least on the outside... but large enough to hide a fracas of a lot more on the inside. That didn't phase Xarrin, as he reached the place's double doors, flinging them wide open.

Maybe it should have.

Because when he marched in that old reception area, with practiced bravado, he already knew he was dead.

"KRIFF!"

Leaping instantly behind a couch, Crae checked both his guns. Ready, primed, full. That bastard Tenn had sold him out. One more name on the hit list. The room was full of thugs, a v-deal: tons of inexperienced, itchy-trigger-fingered crooks ready to blast the first thing they saw.

Beside him, the reception room's fireplace crackled, in unison with the hundred other fires the thug's blaster bolts were starting. With his usual skill and calm, despite a still-boiling rage, Xarrin lept out from the saftey the couch offered, hitting the ground on his side, pumping out hot laser energy. The shots took a Vril gangster in the side, then chest, knocking him back into a wall, into a slump he'd never rise from.

Quickly rolling behind the reception desk, Xarrin moved into a crouch and shot the thug manning it. The shot took him in his red-touqued head, flinging him over the desk like a Luke Skywalker doll struck by a vengeful child's foot.

Then the stun bolt took Xarrin in the back.

And then all he knew was darkness, ushered in by derisive laughter...
<hr>
Sometimes, I wonder how I could be so stupid. I mean, why did I trust Irick even for a second; he was as slimy as a Dagobah snake. But the truth is obvious- I want to see Trez Vril sunk like a two-ton rancor in a Naboo swamp so badly, I would do anything to see it happen. Even trust those I knew would betray me.

The dream was always the same... I'm falling, forevermore. Darkness all around, nothing but a blaster in my hand- but this time, it ended with a crack.
<hr>
"Grahgh...."

Xarrin moaned, looking up at his aggressor.

'Well, look who is awake.'

It was none other than the slimebag himself, Trez Vril. Looking down at Xarrin with distain, he lunged and smashed the durasteel pipe against the rogue cop's head again.

It was a very nice room, Crae's new prison- a beautiful lounge with a terrific view of Coruscant. In a planet which consisted wholly of skyscrapers, that was saying something, in terms of the building's size.

"Son of a bitch."

Xarrin spat blood, coming to the realization that Vril's height advantage sprung from the officer's position in a chair. Hands tied behind back, held in place by restraining cuffs...

"Trez Vril. How are you doing? Kill any babes or children today, kriffer?"

The bar came back down, driven by the criminal's hand, smashing Xarrin in his face. Again, again, in his side and arm... a pop was heard as it hit the latter, and another as the joint righted itself. An idea came to Xarrin, and he rocked backwards and the durasteel bar returned for another blow- the chair tipped, falling at the sudden shift of weight.

Trez missed the swing, and was clipped in the face by Xarrin's foot as it flung outward. A great crack filled the room as the chair broke, flinging Xarrin onto his back. He rolled over, onto his hands and knees, still wracked by pain.

Vril only laughed, wiping some blood away from his mouth.

'Oh, I see. So you wanted this to be a little more fair? That's fine.'

He ran forward, foot leaping out and striking Xarrin in the side. The officer moaned, rolling over.

"What the hell... do you w-want from me..."

A fit of coughing shook him as the words finished. Vril laughed again, that hideous, loud cackle... the tone of the man's voice, it's cultured accent, belied his rage.

'Your little friend, Zacharov. He deals weapons, too- you know, the kind at the hands of which your wife and son died?'

A cold stare was all he got from Xarrin.

'Good, well now you do. You know where they are, don't you?'

"How the kriff would I know where it is? I've only known the man for a day."

That damned bar came down again. Xarrin was getting to know that cold piece of durasteel really well... more blood spurted up from his mouth and nose. Pain wretched up through his body, like lightning slicing into a Jedi. It lanced in and out, intensifying, until a brief lapse came, as Trez's relentless assault stopped for a moment.

'You're not supposed to know, are you?'

Xarrin could only wonder how he knew all this. A document had lain on the seat in the speeder he'd entered- quickly snapping it up, the rogue cop had later learned it was the location of an arms warehouse.
<hr>
Why not tell him?

What had he to lose?

Zacharov was a mobster, just like this piece of slag, wasn't he?

What did he owe him?

Nothing.

More people would die because of those blasters, just like Narri and Jaken.

But what would happen if Vril got them?

What did it matter?

The pain was so bad, he'd do anything...
<hr>
Again. And again. A furious wave of kicks, punches, and smashes with that durasteel bar descended on Xarrin, ripping bruises into him. Cuts opened, spilling blood. Through tears, through the blood, through the pain, Crae looked up and spoke.

"S-stop! KRIFF it, stop! Damn you!"

He didn't.

It just kept coming, like there would be no end...

"I'll tell you, DAMNIT!"

In mid-punch, Trez Vril stopped, smiling pleasantly. He retrieved a cloth from his jacket, wiping the blood from his hands. As he did so, Xarrin tried to get to his knees...

He couldn't even do that. The pain was excrutiating, as if every muscle in his body burned with an invisible fire that was coming dangerously close to consuming him...

'I knew we could come to an agreement.'

It was that smug voice that did it. Or it may have been images of his family, flashing before his eyes like some cheesey children's holo-comedy. But an anger flared up in a young man with a full life-time's worth of grief. It dulled the pain, dulled his senses... only one thought seemed to penetrate that fog.

Trez Vril's demise.

'Oh, ho ho, bravo, Mr. Crae! How impressive. Now, if you please-'

Xarrin hit him.

The backhanded shot sent the crime lord reeling, hand reaching to sooth the tender welt welling up on his cheek. An indignant look crossed his face as he returned himself to his normal posture.

'A little cranky, are we? Maybe-'

Xarrin hit him again.

A full punch this time. Blood spurted into the air, as the mobster went down. The 'oof' of Vril hitting the ground was accompanied by a horrific pain shooting through Xarrin's muscles.

"Eat @#%$."

An uncaring hand easily snapped the dropped durasteel bar into a firm grip. Two quick blows to Vril's face, and large welts and painful slices split open, spilling blood.

"I can't believe I considered telling you. You're a weakling. Nothing but a weakling... some son of a bitch who built an empire of illicit sex, drugs and murder on his brains. Never risking himself..."

He sneered. Quick, brutal strokes snapped down, striking Trez Vril's sides and arms. He whined like a small child being disciplined by his mother, as Xarrin righted himself and stepped away. Walking towards a data terminal, on the desk near that window with the view, Crae ignored a wimper from Vril and tapped a few keys. A litany of files popped up before his eyes, full of records, work, messages...

Xarrin laughed.

"I could hack through all this, find what I want to know. Holonet porn, all sorts of record of illicit dealings with high ranking officials...

"But I just don't give a damn anymore, you know that, Trez? It's finally come to my attention I'm not really a cop. I lug a blaster, do a good job of keeping your thugs from hurting people... but it's all for one reason."

In one swift movement, Xarrin smashed open a lock guarding a drawer on the desk with the piece of durasteel. It slid open easily, and he rustled through it, quickly finding what he sought, his Kloch & Sienar blaster. He threw the bar aside.

"I hate you. I can't think about anything but that- I haven't been able to for years. You screwed me over in ways I can't even describe- you ruined my life to the point it wasn't worth living. But I always did; so I could see your's end."

He tapped a few more commands on the computer terminal.

"Look at this. Been dealing with Glareson, I see? I don't give a @#%$. That slimy bastard can do whatever floats his boat, it really doesn't matter to me anymore. Why would it? All I've got to lose is my life. And that really ain't worth much.

"I'm selfish. I don't care about whether or not my killing you will save any lives- I like to think that, it makes it easier to sleep at night. I just want to see you die- to look into your eyes as life seeps from them, to let you know I finally got to you- I finally did it."

He walked over, and with the whine of a blaster, a blast of light, and an expulsion of heat and energy, his quest was over. Looking down heartlessly into eyes which became glassy at an alarming rate, he just smiled.

It was done.

But out of the dark corner of the room, a small laugh came.
<hr>[i]
It wasn't over yet....

So much for a nice, clean kill. But I wasn't phased... my life was forfeit, or at least I thought so. No one had anything on me, because self-preservation was no longer one of my goals. Whoever took me down was going to go down too...
<hr>
<h3>
Xarrin looked up, clenching teeth and balling hands into fists. The laugh was easily recognizable... a takeoff on it's user's normal, more jovial laugh. Of course, that normal laugh was an act, and the user was anything but jovial.

Commander Glareson.

"I should have known you'd be here, Hutt slime."

The pale, thin man stepped forward out of the darkness, smiling all the while at Xarrin.

'Come now, Lieutenant Crae. That was an impressive speach.'

Xarrin grimaced.

"Don't call me that, Bantha @#%$. I don't want to be part of any security force you're a part of."

'Oh, stinging, Lietenant Crae. There's no need to be so harsh- like you so often say, no one is a saint.'

Xarrin turned around, facing the transparisteel windows. The view was too high to make out anyone on the streets below- long, walled pathways between buildings, which had become sidewalks. A planet that never sleeps doesn't have time to fly between buildings. And in this case, even touch the ground.

But the people were there. Everywhere, people he'd sworn to serve and protect.

Yet, things happened they never saw. The stormtroopers made a visible front to ward off crime, but the real officers, the ones with faces... they were like ghosts. Shadows. No one saw them- abuse of power was easy. Simplistic.

Glareson was drawn into it by greed.

And loss of that responsiblity, or even the memory of that oath to serve and protect, was even easier. Xarrin couldn't remember the last time being part of CoruscSec had been about protecting people and not revenge. But it didn't matter anymore.

He was stuck on the top of a tall building with a criminally scheming Security chief, gazing out onto a planet who probably didn't care about him. Or at least that was how it felt. His death would blend into the cold, uncaring Coruscant night, with all the others. It didn't matter. He couldn't save them. Coruscant had been destroyed by siege after siege, takeover after takeover. It was one big knot of gangs, violence, spice and murder.

And the only thing Xarrin could possibly do was care about himself.

But he didn't.

This was about revenge. And he hadn't finished getting it yet.

Checking the power pack on his blaster, Xarrin Crae turned around and smiled.

"No one's a saint, Glareson- but you're closer to Satan than anyone else I know. I might not be able to save Coruscant from crime... but I can sure as hell save them from you."

He raised the blaster, and shot Glareson in the gut.

The skinny man crumpled, moaning and growling. Almost immediately, the door burst open, filling the suite with hoods-

Or that was Xarrin's first reaction. Quickly enough, the realization that these weren't just dumb thugs sunk in- they were dressed in black business suits, carrying large blaster carbines.

And he knew, once again, he was dead.

'G-ggod damnit... s-stop him!' Glareson sputtered, somehow having survived the shot.

Leaping up onto the desk, Xarrin began firing at whomever he could see. He jumped down, rolled, still firing. Crimson bursts of energy pocked the ground around him, staring small fires. Still firing, he dove headfirst into the doors, greeting them with his shoulder. With a crack, they gave way.

Still running, stumbling, Xarrin looked behind him and laughed. How he could laugh at such a thing, who knows- but the sight amused him. He couldn't be touched- he was invincible. No one could possibly hurt him. Because he didn't care...

The shot took him in the arm.
<hr>
I got up. I had to. Stumbling stupidly, running like I had downed three pints of Corellian ale, I just kept going. I don't know why- just because it was what I felt like I had to do. Like a little voice in the back of my head, prodding me on...
<hr>
The blaster shots had stopped. Or had Xarrin just stopped hearing them? It didn't matter, not now. Nor would it ever.

Xarrin found the door he was looking for, he lept into it, smashing through the transparisteel painfully. He landed with a crunch, rolling, standing. He was on the roof of the building.

All around him, hail and snow wipped about- the cloud which was spilling them seemed only a few hundred feet away. Xarrin quickly realized that's because it was- and that he was witnessing a rare occurence. A Coruscant storm- brought close to the buildings by their altitude.

He dropped to his knees, moving in what seemed like slow motion. Behind him, Crae heard the voices of his persuers, giving chase:

But in front, two wispy figures of mist floated.

"W- what... are you?"

The first slowly danced toward him, like an ereathal goddess, smiling. That face was familiar- his wive's- and yet, as she carressed his face, she wavered and dispersed.

"Why... come back..."

'She can't.' The second apparition said, smiling regretfully. It spoke with his son's voice, had his son's face, but Xarrin could see a degree of wisdom in his eyes that his real son never had. 'We are ghosts... and you cannot be what you should, or fullfill what you are destined to, until you stop letting us haunt you.'

With that, he disappeared too.

A speeder touched down on the landing deck of that roof as the ghost dispersed. Out rushed twenty or so soldiers, dressed in full body armor- almost stormtrooper-like, yet grey.

Xarrin looked up at the sky, watching the snow fall. He'd never seen a storm before, except on the holonet... it was beautiful. ...Stop letting us haunt you... Haunt him? How had they haunted him? He had no ghosts in his head... Destiny....

The second bolt took him in that same shoulder, twisting him forward and to the ground. The forces behind him, rushing from the building, and in front, rushing from the speeder transport.

The battle ended quickly, as Xarrin crawled up on all four's and pulled himself away. The last blast sounded, reciprocated by the final death scream, and it was over.

Zacharov marched forward towards him, retreating from the completed battle. He helped Xarrin to his feet, and the two smiled at each other, like old friends reuniting.

Xarrin's smile suddenly faded, as he pushed Zack aside, staring over his shoulder. A man, a man was rushing out of the building's doors.... He rushed forward, firing, once, twice, thrice...

And his ambusher's body hit the ground. Walking forward, Xarrin rolled him over.

Glareson.

Zack approached once again, nodding slowly. Xarrin returned the nod.

"It's over. Let's go home."

<h3>T H E E N D</h3>