A/N: Okay, this was inspired when I was flipping through a Star Wars atlas of my brother's, and I stumbled across Iego. The story about the Diathim and the Maelibi was intriguing, and I thought to myself. "Well, what happens if a normal mortal marries a Diathim?" And then, BAM, ideas.
Please review, favorite, follow.
3rd POV
No one seemed to notice the girl in the corner.
It was a Thursday night, but this did nothing to deter the business: two Devish were gambling in the corner, along with a group of Dugs, and there were several other groups and lone figures all sprawled around the room. The room was filled with heated arguments, drunken laughter, and loud conversations.
Despite the ignorance of others, the girl was there, shrouded in a dark cloak with the hood pulled up, casting her face into a pool of darkest shadow. All for the best; her face generally caused a bit of a disturbance.
Even though no one asked, her name was Ryker.
Even though no one saw, she was clutching a Treppus-2* underneath the table, strategically switched off so that the tell-tale hum wouldn't give it away.
Even though no one knew, she was waiting; waiting for her target to finally show his ugly face.
Her legs were undeniably cramped; she had been sitting in this accursed chair for at least half the night already. Her eyes flicked to the digital clock on the bar counter, which told her that it was past midnight. She resisted the urge to yawn; she had to resist anything that could give her identity away, and she knew that even that harmless gesture could reveal her gender. Yes, she knew she was paranoid, but she also knew that sometimes, paranoia could just make the difference in living and dying. Ryker preferred living to dying.
She was beginning to grow impatient- her informational client had insisted immediate results from this place. Instead, she had had to come every night for almost a week already without success. If this night was fruitless as well she would give up on the whole idea and just find a new mission.
The chubby bartender- human- was beginning to cast dark looks into her corner, but that was normal. Fourteen year olds didn't often come into the Lower City of Coruscant just to sit on a chair and survey a room.
Besides, the bartender was also quite familiar about the rumors circulating... rumors about a stranger that was flitting around Coruscant... rumors that she was part of anassassin's guild... signing contracts in the black market for someone's head, and executing her mission flawlessly, seamlessly, and collecting the bounty without a word...
Ryker suddenly rapped her knuckles on the pitted surface of the wooden table, signaling without words that she wanted another drink. The bartender- despite his qualms about serving children- obediently ducked from his place behind the counter and grabbed one for her.
As soon as he had scurried away again, Ryker raised the bottle to her lips. Non-alcoholic of course; she was underage and she also wanted all her wits about her if her target actually showed up.
But all of her annoyed uncertainty vanished when the door was shoved open and an Aqualish trudged in, bringing with him a blast of icy cold air from outside. A murmur of complaint ran through the gathered group, and they all shifted their cloaks in an attempt to get warmer.
That's him. Ryker thought in relief, lowering the bottle in her right hand and clutching her knife more firmly in her left. Oh thank God. I thought I'd have to spend a month here waiting him out.
The Aqualish was big, by human and his own species' standards. A little over two meters tall, but still his giant form was stooped with the obviously strenuous weight of a bulging canvas sack slung over his back.
And those are his exports. Man, I've hit the jackpot tonight. Excitement buzzed at the base of Ryker's skull.
"Halfza, you are finally here!" The bartender greeted cheerfully, and with this seemingly harmless remark came a thrill of sudden alarm racing down Ryker's spine.
Oh, damnit, if the bartender's in cahoots with Halfza, then that's another person I have to deal with that I wasn't counting on.
"I had to be patient; they got close this time." Halfza grunted, disgruntled by the cold weather and the bartender's upbeat, careless disposition. "No help from you, sitting on your fat ass all this time while I risk my neck out in the open!"
"Now, let's not get testy." The bartender chuckled affably, seemingly amused by Halfza's obvious irritation. He wagged a pudgy finger in his direction.
Fool. Thought Ryker, almost laughing. Even though he's working with one, he's obviously unaware of the infamous, Aqualish hair-trigger temper.
"I provided help for you in your early days, you should be thanking me." The bartender continued. He dried his hands on a towel and leaned eagerly over the counter, greed shining in his beetle-black eyes. The man looked like dough before it was baked, soft and pudgy and bulging.
Halfza gave a feral growl in reply, but didn't protest, as he dumped the bag's contents out on the bar's surface.
Ryker felt herself straighten and her grip on the Treppus-2 tighten.
And then all hell broke loose.
She was on her feet, hurling the Treppus with deadly accuracy, switching on the vibrations at the last moment so that they couldn't hear the hum.
The bartender was the first to go.
The Treppus found its mark in his temple, burying its point in the fatty flesh, and Ryker heard the loud crack of broken bone that confirmed that he was, indeed, dead. Or dying. Either way, death was inevitable.
The Aqualish turned more quickly than Ryker thought, anger and shock etched into the sharp lines of his green-blue face, pulling out his blaster with a mere flick of his wrist and shooting quite accurately.
Ryker ducked fast, flipping the wooden table she had previously occupied over to provide a bit of cover from the blasterfire, feeling an inexorable and intoxicated grin flit around her lips.
This was why she did it. For the euphoric rush of battle, the adrenaline pumping through her veins like poison. It was like an addiction- she couldn't seem to get away from this despite all of the danger. Maybe the danger was why she did it. After all, there wouldn't be any fun if there was no danger, no risk involved. Putting her neck on the line for the distant promises of glory and reputation... it terrified her half to death and yet she felt a thrill of pleasure.
Halfza paused after he fired the first round, as a predator would, wondering if their prey was still alive.
Ryker proved that she was as she leapt out from beneath the table, cat-like, grabbing his collar for a hold, planting her feet on his chest in a crouched position. She clenched her other hand into a fist and brought it down on the Aqualish's face.
Or more accurately, his tusks.
Despite her somewhat inadequate early education, Ryker was well-acquainted with the anatomy of an Aqualish from pure experience. The tusks beneath his nose, although tough enough to crack open shellfish on his native planet of Ando, also contained a thick layer of nerve cells, which were extremely sensitive.
Even with this knowledge advantage, the punch of a fourteen year old girl is not much to talk about. Unless, of course, said fourteen year old girl was wearing vibroknuckles, which, when clenched, unsheathed a row of deadly vibrating razors, transforming what would have been a painful blow into a lethal attack.
The Aqualish roared in anger and pain, stumbling back as a clear, viridescent liquid oozed from his face and dripped down his chin. He thrashed out blindly, a wounded animal with no space in his brain left for logic, driven only by the primal and basic instinct to attack whatever was in front of it.
Ryker dodged Matrix style, but the sheer wind of the punch was enough to make her hood fall off, throwing the features of her face into the sharp relief of the bright lights. The veil covering half of her face slipped down.
Halfza- who had been pulling back his arm for another blow- suddenly froze, his four glassy black eyes widening in surprise and horror.
"You... you're..."
He never had a chance to finish his sentence. Ryker whipped out another Treppus from the depths of her cloak and threw it, and it struck home, right between Halfza's eyes. The Aqualish twitched one more time and then went still, going limp.
Ryker was extremely aware of how the entire bar had gone silent. The two Devish in the corner were frozen in their gambling. The group of Dugs near the door looked absolutely terrified. The rest were in similar states of being.
The heat coming from their stares was unbearable.
Putting on an air of calm, Ryker pulled her hood and veil back up, inwardly cursing. She didn't want her face to become an object of talk among the mercs of Lower City. And if the other rumors weren't bad enough...
Might as well say something. The tension is thick as hell.
"Sorry about the mess, boys." She said, casually leaning forward to pry both of her knives from the targets' heads. She switched them off and wiped the blood off on her cloak. "But I got a quota to fill, places to go, and people to see." She surveyed them all from the darkness of her hood. "But since I disposed of the bartender, you might as well help yourself to some drinks."
The rest of the bar realized this. And all dove for the counter, dissolving into a mad scramble for the rest of the bartender's wares. Ryker was, however momentarily, forgotten.
Chuckling to herself, Ryker picked up the Aqualish's bag, stuffed the contents back inside, rummaged for a while in the cloak of Halfza, and then produced a laminated card.
She then left the bar and never looked back.
It wasn't until after all the drinks had been finished that the occupants of the bar that night began to ponder the mysterious stranger that had showed up. The graceful way she moved, as if she had been flying instead of running and jumping.
As if she had wings.
They spread news about the way she had taken down Halfza, almost twice her size, and the bartender without landing a scratch on herself.
But most of all, they spread news of her face.
The face worthy of an angel.
A/N: Review, favorite, follow.
