<!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> Scraping the bulge of his gaunt chin with loose fingertips, Xylon began to deliberate the most unique of conditions with eyelids drawn down. Thoughts of glory and valor sifted amongst forlorn hindrances, Xarrin being the centerpiece. Fickle being would manifest in victory or loss, regardless to present existence and towards hasty confrontations against bloodlust Imperials. Velocity of movement would be the object of concern.

Then again, Intelligence reports...reliable Intelligence reports, suggested the Imperials to be occupied with foreign affairs. They would soon realize the New Republic's intentions, nevertheless the imminent knowledge would only influence anxiety; nothing more. The Imperials inevitably would claim ownership of such sacred territory, discounting New Republic oppression. Honor over wit: the only predictable policy of the Imperials.

Hexyra gawked at Organa blankly, simultaneous to his leather sole impatiently colliding with stubborn flooring. He knew very well of the personal outlook her jeweled eyes requested, yet neglected her in spite of it. Unfortunately, by his belief, he also came to grasp the single-most method of resolve formulated by the virtuous Jedi...peace over war; diplomacy over confrontation. Although he was loosely considered a Jedi, himself, these ethics encompassed no reason in his lair of practicality. Nonetheless he became trapped in a vice of ethical paradox, as he looked the face of purity in the eye though treaded on the path of evil.

Lifting his shrouded arm to chest height, Xylon glanced at his chronometer before shattering the disdain with Solo. A scarlet smirk could be visualized warping his bitter lips as they widened.<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->

<!--EZCODE BOLD START--> "Oh, I believe we can find a substantial medium."<!--EZCODE BOLD END-->

<!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> Striding closer to Organa but with focal point elsewhere, Hexyra nudged his thumb onto a crimson transmission toggle connecting her to the mysterious man.

<!--EZCODE BOLD START--> “Excuse me, Miss Solo.”<!--EZCODE BOLD END-->

<!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> Fully allowing his weight to fall upon the indented component, Xylon released a quiet sigh as the whisked breathing of the figure on its receiver rang al<!--EZCODE ITALIC END--><!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->

<!--EZCODE BOLD START--> “Mr. Crae, is it? Your voice is acknowledged, yet this matter is presently not pertinent to you, as a basis of address we have not. Communication will be reestablished once these matters have been contemplated among ourselves…agreed?”<!--EZCODE BOLD END-->

The Jedi were both so sure of their being wholly right in this circumstance. It made me sick...
<hr>
Xarrin snorted aloud, shaking his head bitterly. He locked eyes with Zacharov, who gave him a subtle nod. Crae looked up once more to the hologram of Xylon's visage, and spoke with a disgusted, angry conviction.

"Yeah, it's me, you high-and-mighty son of a bitch. This matter kriffing well is pertinent to me. You think you've got the greater good in mind, I'm sure you do. But you know what? I'm sick of people who think they're better than me.

"Want to know something, you two? Most of my non-human friends are dead. Know why? Because when the Republic conquered Coruscant the first time, you and your buddy, Wedge Antilles, you were just stupid and clumsy enough to do so before dealing with Ysanne Isard. She let the Krytos virus loose on the planet.

"My son is dead. Know why? Because when that virus killed off half of the non-human population, people here got desparate. They joined gangs. Two groups of Swoop-riding thugs were shooting the hell out of each other, and my son got caught in the crossfire.

"My wife is dead. Know why? Because I joined the Undercover Units Group so I could make sure no one else's kids got killed in a gang war. She delved in too deep, and got slagged.

"I got framed for murder. Know why? Because my old boss was a tough-as-nails bastard with a conscience the size of a wild Naboo tree-nut. The Eternal Rogue Order taught him to be that way when they conquered Coruscant."

Xarrin paused, and only noticed then the small well of tears growing steadily in his eyes. He wiped them, then glared back at Hexyra and continued.

"I'm kriffing sick of invading forces. So is everyone else. Now, you tell me that you're not going to bring in another hostile force to take over Coruscant and kriff everything up again, or I'm going to tell my people to bomb every single port and office here, until the galaxy's economy is so stiffled, you won't even have time to think about taking any planets.

"If you want Coruscant, you're gonna have to do it nice-like, and you're going to have to do it so that we don't get screwed over by another Imp plot, or something like that."

Leia leaned forward and clasped her hands in her lap. It was obvious she was done with this conversation.

"We shall do our best, Mr. Crae, and what comes from it, will come, for even the best of methods and intentions have their downfall sometimes... including both ours and yours. Let it merely stand that our intentions and methods are purely peaceful. Thank you for taking the time and troubles to contact me personally, Mr. Crae. We will do our best to heed what you have said. May your future be prosperous."

Leia reached over and terminated the connection, then let herself fall back into the warm embrace of her chair with a sigh. A hand rose to her forehead, and she rested her head on her hand. She looked at the two Republic officers before her, meeting each person's eye contact in turn.

"Barring for a moment the words of a single former cop who apparently runs some sort of crime organization that somehow manages to work for the greater good, do you think we should go through with this?"

A disgusted cringe lapsed Xylon’s monotonous cheeks upon immediate comprehension of the man’s words. Despise innocent rhetoric tactics he did, furthermore those of bias nature. His mind may have been poisoned by Imperial propaganda to a negative extent, still Hexyra certainly would not accept being obliged to act under subordination.

Welfare of the common Republic above all, correct? Exasperation lingered unconditionally atop redundant phrases of militaristic inhumanities thrown upon every swing of his sword. Murder…death…rape: all repercussions of each and every flinch of his wrist?

N-No….

His lips quivered beneath the meager sensation of responsibility for these horrid crimes of being. His past continued to appear clouded by insoluble fragments, those he did not dare recall. A muse of sadistic arts relating to ravage, slaughter, murder, and much more…a hellish prison of despair for an all but forgotten history. He had forgone satanic nightmares of crimson…oh the seeping crimson running relentlessly throughout his environment; yet despite the blank nature his face seemed etched among the fine slivers of tissue embellishing the afflictions of eternal recollection.

“Beasts of the past…why do you torment me so!”

Endlessly ricocheting into oblivion, Xylon’s words uncovered only void for refuge. An entity of suffering now dawned to reassemble the petrifying subsistence of seclusion and cold. Fear was at his vulnerable side, his only side…the only soul offering companionship; choice meant nothing.

A persistent doom taunted its prey before the inexorable lash.

***

Muffled in garnets and draping of the like, Xylon lay placid and stricken upon the merciless marble, proceeding a fiendish collapse…silence engulfed all animated innate.

At this point, I was already way past the point of no return. Funny, how I always seem to miss it when I pass. But unlike last time, when I was dealing with the Vril, I wasn't even composed enough to realize I'd done so- I was just pissed off. That Jedi bitch, so smug, dismissing 'Mr. Crae' with a wave of the hand as if he was some small time whiner writing a letter to his Senator.
<hr>
Xarrin stood, retrieving a keycard from his pocket and swiping it through one of his desk's drawers, taking out a large, mostly rectangular blaster pistol and laying it on the desk. Zack stood also, looking curiously at his friend.

'You don't theenk that was a bit harsh?'

Xarrin looked coldly up at him, but didn't reply.

'Okay, don't answer. What are you goeeng to do now?'

The rogue cop thought for a second, a pensive look crossing his tired face. Then he smiled, replying,

"Who's in charge of Coruscant, right now?"

'You mean the gov-air-ner? How should I know. It's only been a week since the Eternal Rogue Order left.'

Xarrin smiled, chuckling wrly.

"Precisely. The system of government has been trashed. There's probably some ninny sitting the Planetary Governor's office right now, with no idea what to do."

One of Zacharov's eyebrows raised.

'You're goeeng to try to take the head office of government?'

"Why not? Stranger things have happened."

'How?'

Xarrin spread his hands wide.

"Come on, Zack! We've got the manpower! The people just want a leader they can see right now. We'll leap in and grab it, before anyone has even heard of the guy in Office right now. Then we'll throw something at the people to distract them."

'The New Republic invasion plan?'

Crae nodded, and they both smiled.

"So this will get me in?"

'Yeah.'

The nervous crook looked left, and right, along the Coruscant walkway, paranoid as a weequay. Xarrin, looking up at him from inside his speeder, briefly examined the keycard.

"You're sure."

'Look, mac, my @#%$ works, okay? Now gimme my money, and scram.'

Xarrin shrugged and handed him a clip of credit chips.

"Enjoy. Jackass."

Speeding away towards his target, Xarrin Crae could only smile. Zack's contacts were always reliable, if normally unpleasant. The card now in the storage compartment of the speeder the rogue cop had stolen two days ago would get him, and his men, into that target.

The Coruscant Capital Building.
<hr>
Crazy? Maybe I was. But who could deny the simplistic brilliance of my plan?

<!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> Things were coming to a head.<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->



Most did not travel to the Siennar District anymore, having felt the harsh reality of brutal conflict.


Several buildings had sunk into the lower levels while others simply fell over. Heavy blast marks and weapons scoring littered the walls....testaments to a more desperate time.


The Empire had been fracturing with the rebels destruction of the second Death Star and the Emperor.


And yet, the rebels didn't stop to think what damage to the citizens of the Imperial Center this would cause. The Imperial forces lashed out as a body thrashing about without it's head.

..and in the ensuing fight for supremacy left many such sights on the planetary city.

The Eternal Rogue Order had held the planet under their infuence long enough....but as with all weak agencies and pseudo governments, they did not have the staying power of the Empire.


Ciscero grinned to himself as he traversed the underbelly of the forgotten district.

Tensions were high and if Isard was right, it was only a matter of time before the New Republic would take action.


<!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> The old bat was right again..<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->


His eyes narrowed as the light became extremely dim and he found an opening in the wall which (as he flashed a pen light into it) he saw descended to much lower levels.

Siennar District.


<!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> Wheels within wheels<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->

*Han had been quiet until now. He knew his officers weren't stupid enough to go around making waves. this had to be some kind of trick. He decided thats what it had to be, and if not, those officers would be pnished. Severely*

"Councillor Solo, Cousin, believe me when i tell you that my officers would not be that stupid. this has to be some kind of ploy. obviously this man is cunning, and inteligent, trying to use a ploy like that."

Han had just finished his sentence when beside him Xylon collapsed to the floor. Leia half stood and leaned forward over her desk to see the prone figure on the floor.

"Xylon...?"


Her eyes half lidded as she used the force to gently nudge into his mind, and nudge him awake....

*Han stared open mouthed at Xylon's half unconscious form on the ground.*

"Master Solo, Organa, is he going to be alright?"

[i]The lone essence exhibiting a distinct sentiment of reality and life prevailed, unfortunately, as the stiff marble slate beneath his skull, and to his recollection - the very plot in where he once stood. Pulsating violently, the grueling chill felt to only tauten its clasp by the second. Or, perchance, it was the pulsating that conveyed such agony. To however it manifested, the source was irrelevant…pain was pain; humiliation was humiliation. His mind soon began wander in a surreal realm to why he snapped. Remembrance of perplexing, although masked, troubles overcame him to no logical conclusion. The acknowledged possibilities were so futile that even he began to accept a loss of balance explanation.

“Ugh…”

Gradually, animate objects bobbing to and fro attracted discombobulated eyes, having seen primarily repetitious patterns in musty capacity. Inquired glances set onto cherry lips were initially observed by dawning eyesight, and soon their broad foundations shown like crystal. A tangible link was shortly established between the three figures, nonetheless,

Silence.