OOC: [This comment is a brief synopsis for clarification: Raca'sin moved his intergalactic organization from Alzoc III because of conflicting issues with another competitive crime lord. Dakos seeks Raca'sin, after killing Keshiryr, to complete his mission of removing all links and connections to him: he wants his independence. Basically, this thread is a background posting.]



Death wreaked a foul stench on his hands. The emptiness of space enveloped around him. Dakos sat in the cockpit of the Khade analyzing his position on the navigations array. Only several hours ago on Zhar had he made his personal decision: the control and oppression he received would come to an untimely end. His leather-gloved hand initiated the hyperdrive engines on his Corellian freighter to enter hyperspace for the planet Munto Codru in the Codru system. There was a small score to settle with an unknowing confidante, who was taking care of business on the obscure planet. Sadly, Dakos had his own agenda in mind. From the cockpit, the stars went from tiny dots into a stretched array of lines pulling him into a deep blue void, entering the realm of hyperspace, moving further away from his ephemeral tutelage with Keshiryr.

He stood from his seat and walked down the short corridor of his ship to the nearby lavatory to wash his face. Dakos could remember hearing his former master requesting his attention and focus with their practice session. “In order to become one with the dark side you must give yourself to your hate and let your body become a conduit for that aggression.” In response to his choice suggestions, Dakos made his approach rather direct and forceful—lightsabers immediately clashed with the humming and the singing of the laser blades signified the balance of control and composure of their saber skills. Silver and green mixed well in battle. They fought admirably for quite awhile. The muscles in Dakos’ arms growing weak, but his master appeared replenished and unaffected. Jealousy rose within and Dakos took his next approach a step further. Without much notice, he side jumped a nearby tree to another while his blade was in hand. He took to the nearest branch and flipped his body in a whirling assault on top of his master. The older man countered, but barely from the surprise attack.

Laughter bellowed from the older man whose voice had a wisp only added to Dakos’ anger. Keshiryr had a long white and black beard that stretched down to his mid chest, while his robes were loose, and matching his beard, with creamy white and black. The master’s face was definitely far-gone; age was not pleasant to him. His eyes were yellow and beady while his face was crackly and heavily wrinkled, and his teeth and hair were struggling to keep with his facial features. The dark side saturated him whole. The beleaguered dark master became a product of the force, and Dakos did not want that to happen. He made the decision to kill him based on consequence that he rather be free than become a slave to some natural occurrence in the galaxy. He wanted to use the force—exploit it maybe but not lose sight of his goal. He agreed with his master that the dark side would make him a conduit, but also the experience was surreal and unnatural and Dakos definitely had issues with it. Part of him did not want to slice parts of Keshiryr on his attack, but something within him, not even his killing instinct compelled him to go forward. He thought and wanted to kill him, but the actual thirst for his death was not usual on his breath—it was then. He stared with dull, glazed eyes into the mirror watching the drops of waterfall from his face to the sink. Life was just going to remain complicated for him, and he would have to accept it. Dakos left his place at the sink and reclaimed his seat in the cockpit. He placed on his headset and scrutinized his navigation computer console. The hyperdrive engines were stable and the Khade was not far from the Codru system. Given his position, he only had less than an hour to prepare for pulling out of hyperspace.

Dakos knew he had to come up with a surefire way to enter the system without detection. Raca’sin was not stupid; the crime lord always had some sort of secret protection—working with intergalactic crime organizations was not a safe profession. With money and resources at his disposal, he might have an armed guard but Dakos had agnostics on his side meaning the crime lord lacked knowledge of his deception. No report or information leaked about Keshiryr’s death yet, and since the incident happened recently with the smell of blood on his hands, Dakos had every confidence in the world that he would exact revenge on his former master. His ship was a dead give away. Khade needed a new call sign and on top of those modifications, his identification tags for this area of space were obsolete. They changed their tag identification system two years ago, and he had not appeared in this area of space for at least four years. To his dismay, he had to consider his options. His solutions were narrowing by every moment his ship sustained hyperspace. He quickly rose from his seat and left the cockpit again with determination. He had to think for a moment about what to do.

Entering the communications and systems array section of his ship, Dakos overlooked the ship configurations. His identification tags were still skewed and noncompliant—the Codru Intergalactic Customs and Securities (CICS) commonly called ‘sisiks’, would definitely stop his ship and search it intrusively for contraband or other cargo imports. They might even impound the ship, but Dakos would have other plans for them if they decided to give him a hard time. He moved from the exposed communications grid and checked on his call sign. There it was hanging, the typical call sign he used when he entered a system. If someone informed Raca’sin of a bizarre ship arrival, he would know something was out of the ordinary. Dakos stalked away from the small alcove and headed down the walkway of his ship to a criminal syndicate network system he added about a year ago to aide such sticky situations as these. He entered the special code to bypass the protective seal and enter the privileged data information. Dakos searched through the call sign information and found a profitable choice of YT-2000 ships that still had active signs but were now noncommissioned ships; he took down the information and pulled up identification numbers of that same ship quickly before shutting down the system.

He reentered the alcove station and systematically added the identification tags and call sign. Dakos had to bypass all the information and recycle the encryption code he added, so his true ship information would remain undetected until he had safely left the system. The recycling took more time than he would have thought because when he finally pushed the identifications grid back in to the communication module, there was a buzzer going off around the ship: he had arrived at the system. Dakos rushed back to the cockpit and settled himself. He destabilized his hyperdrive system and slowly exited hyperspace. Before him was the large planet of Munto Codru and its impressive space station that housed the planetary securities group. The information he had used to cover up his tracks now cycled through his own computer system.

The station commenced a greeting and standard protocol announcement: “This is the Codru Intergalactic Customs and Securities. Be prepared to have your ship targeted, identified, and inspected for securities precautions. You will receive further instructions from us sir.” The voice on the intercom was terser than usual. Dakos was not sure he liked his attitude. He grumbled some as he adjusted the sound on his headset. Then opening his side console, he pulled out his mission mask. He only wore this mask when he had to do missions on the planet. Dakos did not want unassuming individuals to know what he looks like. The mask was burgundy and black. There were eye ports that were visible from within, but covered by a dark gloss. His voice was also distorted much like the legendary Vader mask, yet Dakos had a thinner and smaller mask that had temporary purposes.

He slipped the mask on over his face and tightened his gloves before he privately responded to that daft officer’s interpersonal skills. The tone of his voice was thin but alarmingly dense. “Manners go a long way—consider it next time,” Dakos responded while he pressed a couple of navigation buttons and fed the station the information they needed from the console.

He waited for several more minutes. A couple of fighters moved closer to his position and circled his ship to gather a severe inspection. Calmly Dakos waited; however, his jagged eyebrow peaked and flattened over the long wait. The flight control officer spoke again to him but with more humility, “YT-2000 Synthil, you make now followed the flight path to the planet surface and welcome to Munto Codru.”

Dakos nodded realizing that he saved himself from a skirmish that would prove to be unnecessary. He stated carefully over intercom, “Much obliged.” The Khade followed the two fighters into the planet’s atmosphere and then took the suggested route to park the ship and find his master. Upon his descent over a landing platform, he initiated his landing gears and placed the ship on immediately standby. The assassin moved from his seat and pulled from behind him his black cloak. He fastened the cloak and draped it around his black body gear. Now it was time to make a stand and finish the job.

“Time to make amends,” His distilled words resonated doubtfully from the small chambers of the mask.

RACA’SIN’S PRIVATE CHAMBERS

Overlooking the teaming horizon, a pair of sallow-orange eyes focused on the final embers of the day. The sunlight or rather rays from that very star emitted a sense of accomplishment and consistency. Those same rays would appear with the beckoning of a new day, but as usual, those rays signify the birth and death of the current day. Night would soon inch forward, covering the connected host of buildings and palatial gatherings with velvety darkness and lurid, sparkling stars. The twi’lek stood wearing mellow maroons and pale gold sequences while his head tails, which wrapped tightly around his head and neck, echoed an iridescent sky blue.

The illustrious Raca’sin, known for his ruthless and cunning strategy within the intergalactic crime organizations, held a new residence and office for his own protection. A domicile that he fitted grew quiet that evening. Ever since he arrived on the planet from his private transport, he commented that no other place in the galaxy had the elusive and quiet properties of Munto Codru. A planet found in the Outer Rim yes, but a nice and soothing retreat from the hustle and bustle of locales such as Coruscant, Corellia, Tatooine, Ord Mantell, or Nar Shaddaa. Protection was his major motivation, partly because of his dealings led him astray and almost assassination at the hands of some other ruthless individuals. Unpleasant in his regard, he wanted to continue to do his business and reap the benefits of lucrative smuggling, laundering, and bounty hunting. He made a living exploiting others’ talents over the years to amass such a wealth. Now the Twi’lek had to pay with his privacy and composure by staying in a small residence in a secluded part of space—a prisoner in his own part of the galaxy, the twisted irony.

Raca’sin was on the run from many conglomerates and associates that used his connections with the criminal syndicate to gain in their respective industries. If there was a powerful executive or directorate controlling an area of space that was sensitive to the needs of neighboring intergalactic corporations, Raca’sin became the primary source for handling that business. Instead of maneuvering around such obstacles, Raca’sin employed assassins and other skilled freelance killers to remove the threat. On top of serving bounties, he has also had connections with some of the most sought after smugglers in the Outer Rim. Most of these people had their own hidden objective, and Raca’sin made it clear in the contracts during initial agreements that he was not held responsible for lack of quality in the service because these smugglers come at high demand: if the price were right, the smugglers would surely handle business but of course in their own way. Raca’sin made a living being so crafty with his connections that now, many of his former customers have banded together to get rid of him.

He came to the new locale under the advice of several close syndicate members, whom all died of mysterious causes; the action was probably the twi’lek answer for protection. Raca’sin took to convincing an old ally who worked deep in the securities division of Munto Codru to find him a place. After painstaking waiting on several remote, desolate planets, the unnamed friend found him a perfect setup in an unused office/residence space. The only hitch was ensuring the Raca’sin play the part of an extensive academic who was visiting from the inner core planets. He had to play host every so often to ensure and keep up face because the Munto Codru people were suspicious. The wyrwulfs were always in hot patrol to make sure their people were safe.

A soothing tone resonated from his desk. Raca’sin slowly turned his back away from the open balcony and stepped over to the expanded desk to see what the message on his internal computer system was. He pressed a series of buttons while standing next to his desk. “This is Raca’sin. Replay the previous message for me please,” The words leapt from his lips with hesitation. He had to be careful with so many potential computer breaches. There were reports that received from valuable friends who stayed on Munto Codru detailing the inefficiency in the security forces. Surprising Munto Codru was one of the strongest protectorates in this area of space, but even with ruthless mercenaries having more advanced and technologically perceptive equipment—there was no telling when and how they would gain entry on the planet. Raca’sin was hoping to hear from Keshiryr about Dakos’ progress with his training. The lightsaber skill the boy possessed was steadily improving but his demeanor was turning too dark, too visceral, and too quickly.

After a short pause during his confirmation to hear the message, Raca’sin decided to sit down at his elongated desk. The onyx, polished surface reflected the simplicity and elegance he had. The room was large, but more so horizontally than with vertical, cathedralesque ceilings. The small dais held the long black desk with minimal items and an integrated internal information technology system that connected throughout his residence—slash—office. “The situation has changed rather briskly on Ord Mantell. Raca’sin, I expect you to contact me as soon as possible. This last shipment is unacceptable—I am losing my money!” The moment the voice emanated from the holographic image, he knew that it was Heshe, one of his usual deals, from Ord Mantell. He pressed a couple of buttons and waited patiently. “Computer, transmit a connection to Heshe on a secure channel authorization Delta Omicron mark two—nine—seven. Initiate this message with a transmission jamming signal.” The twi’lek readied himself at his desk with the viewscreen transitioning from blurring to clean and clear. Heshe appeared with his grotesque swollen upper lip and jaw, and to his right side the furrow, mangled flesh from one of his past skirmishes was still present.

The computer responded to Raca’sin, “Voice activation complied.”

Raca’sin spoke up, “Thank you computer—Heshe, I hear from your message that we are experiencing a problem?”

“Right now Raca’sin you are bantha fodder for trying to swindle me. I don’t know where you are, but I am sure that you will not get away with it,” Heshe narrowed his eyes which shifted colors from a burgundy to fiery red.

“Why Heshe, I have no idea what you mean,” Raca’sin appeared stoic, faking shock and confusion, “I gave you the last dossier and the report from my previous shipholder, and he assured me that the deal was made correctly—are you trying to tell me that I am a liar?” Raca’sin inquired almost leaning forward at the desk.

“I will never trust a twi’lek past his head tails—you all are a corrupt kind. I’ve lost so much money in the last four days because of this shipment, of course I blame you—you lying space worm!” Heshe accused him, pointing his stubby fat finger at the twi’lek.

“It seems that the agreement and further deals with you sir have changed sporadically. I am sorry, but you cannot afford my services anymore. Under my contract I had with you, I made it explicitly clear that you may not accuse my deals as false,” As if winning the dispute, Raca’sin slightly smiled, “I have no choice, but to terminate my agreement with you. Good luck in your other future business endea—ors!!!!!!!??”

The words did not leapt from his mouth fast enough when appearing from behind the shadows of his cool-toned room, a figure dressed in black with an intricate mask stood before him. The black cloak, very sleek, fell to the ground, caressing the floor. The eyes behind the mask were thin and jade.

“Good ahead—finish the line,” The tone was sharp to the hilt.

Raca’sin sat back froze in shock. His yellow eyes glowing in the dark room, even the blackness from the forthcoming evening enveloped around him, “I do… I am… Uh…”

“Screw it.” The figure pulled and ignited his lightsaber, swiping it across the desk and destroying the transmission and communications array, “Your conversation is finished.”

Narrowing his eyes, Raca’sin was not sure who the person was. Then the eyes almost told him, but the black gloved figure pulled the mask from his face. It was Dakos with his jade green eyes staring back at him with callous dispassion. “Hello master,” the words turned unpleasant on Dakos’ tongue. Judging from Raca’sin’s expression, he knew this was not a courtesy call—it was not polite in the least.

“Look sir. I understand you are frustrated with your training but you must finish. Keshiryr is making strides with you and your—f”

“KESHIRYR IS DEAD. I killed him.” Then silence seated comfortably in the room. It was stale and quiet. Raca’sin could feel the surging of adrenaline in his body and the beating of his heart. Why was the bounty hunter even here? Was it wise? “Look now, I understand that there were some tough times to deal with but we all cannot go insane from them,” Raca’sin tried to reassure Dakos, but he was not having it anymore.

“Enough you twi’lek, you used me enough and now I fed up with your actions. That line of yours you always loved—Good luck in your other future business endeavors—using people. Well I guess now this line seems wasted on you,” Dakos began to break it down for the twi’lek, squirming in his seat.

While Dakos began retelling and explaining how Keshiryr died, Raca’sin realized he had to act fast. He began playing as if he paid careful attention to the human’s words. Dakos almost fell for the act, but he knew better after working for the corrupt crime lord for so long. The twi’lek felt around under his desk for his personal blaster. Regrettably, for him, Dakos could hear every sinew of his hand and fingers arching and clasping around the weapon. Just as the twi’lek’s hand rested comfortably on the blaster, Dakos acted quickly. “No! SIR!” He shoved the crime lord with the force into the window, which did not shatter. Raca’sin slammed into the window and slid down to the floor. Dakos immediately jumped on the black desk and flipped over landing clear of the fallen chair. He dredged over to the sprawled, swaddled Raca’sin on the floor. The blaster was still in his hand. Raca’sin quickly aimed the weapon at Dakos without realizing his circumstances. He began shooting at him from point blank range, but just as the gun began to fire, Dakos ignited his saber and the blasts singed against the lining of the silver blade. Promptly the towering disciple pulled the gun from Raca’sin’s hand without warning with the force and discarded it across the room. The blaster smashed into a display case on the other side of the wide receiving area on the current floor.

Dakos approached him and crouched to greet his face without regret and frustration, “Are you done?—because I am sick of your shit.” Raca’sin stared back daring to cause more controversy. The twi’lek wanted to scream or howl, maybe call for reinforcements to save him from this problem, but it was too late. He was cornered and with the humming lightsaber illuminating silver just inches from his face, with the discharge brushing his skin, his life was now in the hands of Dakos.

Confused and distraught, Raca’sin with sullen eyes greeted Dakos once more but now with regret heavy in his tone, “So what do you want with me Dakos?”

“I want answers. Not riddles, jokes, or games—answers you freakazoid,” Dakos eyed him up and down, he could see some blood dripping from the corner of Raca’sin’s lips because of the jolt and impact from the fall.

Raca’sin began to chuckle with a nasty gurgle. The impact probably did more damage than he thought, but it did not matter. Dakos wanted to know everything—why he exploited him and for what purpose. “Do you honestly think I will tell you anything—boy?”

The saber promptly swirled in Dakos’ hand and landed just a hair’s breadth from Raca’sin’s neckline. “Say one more smart remark you filthy slime ball and you will definitely find out how fast it takes for a saber to cut through your fat, greedy head.”

Raca’sin spat up some blood: it was a rather unpleasant sight. “Ok fine. What do you want?”

“I want to know where all your contacts and dealing information is. I want all of it. I’m taking it with me and getting some answers. I have killed too many people to let you just pass off as if nothing had happened,” Dakos kept the blade where it was just shy of his neck.

“That computer was the only place for it and now it’s destroyed,” Raca’sin answered appearing honest and sincere.

Dakos knew he lied. The figure stood, the cloak fall in place around him. He grabbed Raca’sin and threw him across the room. “DON’T even start you piece of work. Where are all your sensitive files located?” Dakos extinguished the blade and placed to his side, giving him ample time to adjust his leather gloves.

Raca’sin slowly tried to hold onto the banister from the small stairway that was near him. The stairs led to his private chambers. “They… They are—ahh!!” He felt pain in his side, “They are in the panel next to the wall right there. The access code is zero-two-alpha-theta-six-four.”

Dakos briskly stepped over to the silver plate which was a commemorative decoration, but behind it was a security sensitive safe. He tacitly surveyed the plate before dropping it carelessly on the floor. Pressing the code into the wall, the rogue disciple did not realize that Raca’sin finally gained his leverage while clasping to the railing on the other side of the room. The twi’lek lumbered quietly across the room to where the blaster lay atop of some broken shards of glass. Dakos had finally opened the code for access at the small terminal. The gray hinges splayed, and the door swung open to reveal an assortment of data discs and confirmation pads. “Good. This is what I was looking for master. I know you are disappointed that your charade did not last but that’s okay, we all make our mistakes.”

With lithe hands, Raca’sin stood several feet from Dakos, halfway able to stand and hold his ground. Then from his trajectory, he aimed the weapon at Dakos’ head to ensure that the blast found its necessary mark. The silence in the room was discerning. “It seems you are rather quiet Raca’sin. I know you are not trying to thwart me again, are you? Circumstances right now can only get worse,” Dakos quipped turning around to see the gun ready to shoot. Instantly his hands went in the air to show he was unarmed. The hands went slowly above his head in orant fashion.

Barely audible, gurgling, yet unwavering, Raca’sin spoke almost guttural the sound was disgusting. “You have no idea how much I want to kill you,” the twi’lek struggled to walk closer; “It would be so much easier if you would leave me be. Dakos, you were a huge pain and cost to me but you were worth it.” He nodded admitting it to himself, even though he actually said it, “You were an expensive commodity and I made so much money on you—you have no idea.” He coughed, but he was still prepared and ready to fire. Dakos watched him wondering what he planned on doing. “It’s just a shame that I have to kill you to save my life. You were one of my biggest investments, but I must live and you must die.”

Raca’sin stretched his arm out and proceeded to pull the trigger of the blaster. In that short time, Dakos pulled his lightsaber and cut the forearm with the blaster. He twisted his saber arm, jabbed the silver blade through his abdomen, and sliced up through Raca’sin’s chest. The pain seared so fast and instantly, that the death seemed so uneventful when it occurred immediately thereafter. The twi’lek’s eyes glazed over, and Dakos stoically stared at him: “You aren’t even worth the credits to keep you alive you ugly piece of shit.” The saber blade pulled through and sliced up Raca’sin body in half sending his parted upper half to the floor in heaps. Dakos extinguished the blade again looking down at the stress, the frustration, and the loss of innocence—now released. His mouth quivered from the emotional overload, but he had to get off the planet soon. He went to the safe, pulled those discs, and placed his black mask on his face before stepping out of the room leaving behind his tortured past. For his former master, Raca’sin had not realized that even the monsters that we create do not always turn out how we had planned.