Akkaari: Thanks!
Tarva: Yes, Tarva, I know you're an action person. Hopefully, the 'action drama' in this chapter will satisfy you. If not, well, the story is far from over.
WARNING! There is more M rated material in this chapter!
xXx
"Guidance counselor!? Are you fucking serious?"
"You doubt my judgment?"
"If your intention is for her to receive sanctimonious, half-assed advice from him, then no, I'm not."
"I'm surprised at you. You of all people should know its very unwise to underestimate what others can teach you, regardless of their dispositions."
"I know, but…look, you know what he is. He's a liar. A manipulator. He knows how to win people. He knows how to play on their emotions and fears and desires to suit his own ends. If, when, their relationship progresses to anything resembling friendship, he won't hesitate for a second to use it to his advantage. Maybe its unwise to underestimate what he could teach her, but it would be even stupider to underestimate him."
"You don't need to worry. I've already taken that into consideration."
"You're gonna warn her?"
"If she brings up the subject. I won't go out of my way to."
"Of course not. After all, its only the canon plot that's at stake not to mention her…"
"I won't deny that he could hurt her. I won't deny that even she isn't immune to the influence of a person of Dooku's intensity."
"But?"
"I want to see how far she can turn the tables on him."
"You'll intervene if it goes too far, won't you?"
"If I have to."
xXx
It was a buffet.
A fresh, hot, sweet, buffet.
Shawn Cunningham inhaled deeply and obscenely. His olfactory senses, heightened to the extreme thanks to the interface, picked up smells that made the pleasure centers of his brain quiver in ecstasy.
Smells of hatred, fanaticism, insanity.
Fear.
The first batch of CAA soldiers they had been assigned to train kept their eyes on one another or darted glances at the door. Every so often, their gazes flickered briefly to Shawn and his colleagues, filled with resentment and loathing, but apparently they had heard the rumors of the power their new teachers wielded and thought it unwise to make conversation with one another lest they might…slip up.
These were young, newer recruits. The oldest looked to be twenty-five. Maybe that was why Shawn could still sense rebellion in them. Not many senior members of the CAA could swallow their pride and admit the injuries and humiliations they had suffered when they had gone too far.
Shawn stifled a grin. These little shits didn't have the slightest clue who they were dealing with.
With a hiss, the white doors slid open. The CAA stiffened while the Virus Creed snapped to attention.
But everyone relaxed when they saw a silver clad figure enter the arena.
Well, only the ones on the left side.
The CAA rookies eyes flared up. Shawn heard several of them hiss words like 'traitor' and 'white nigger' as the newcomer strode toward her colleagues, her silver cloak rippling behind her. She turned her hooded face toward the CAA members and Shawn smirked when he saw several of them cringe and look away.
Fucking pussies he thought.
Conversation on the left side resumed after the newcomer had arrived. Shawn caught her eye and tilted his head at her in a gesture to join him. She looked very unorthodox in her silver garb compared to that of her black and dark red clad colleagues, but Shawn knew her choice of clothing was far from the reason why so many CAA were staring holes into her.
"Someone's popular," he muttered at her.
"Up yours, Orion."
She pulled her hood back revealing long, dark brown hair, a pale hawk-like face and gray eyes that looked as if they belonged on a golden eagle rather than a human regardless of their color. Her features seemed to be set in a permanently grim expression.
"Especially cheerful today, eh, Iron Hand?" Shawn smirked at her.
She glared at him. "The Mistress said we would have a buffet. All I see is a huge plate of shit sandwiches."
"Who said anything about eating them?"
Iron Hand's raptor gaze scanned the crowd of rookies. The corners of her lips curled up in a smile that was light years away from reaching her eyes.
"That pasty bitch is staring at you."
Shawn followed her gaze and indeed saw a girl in her late teens with long blonde hair and a pallid complexion looking at him. Her blue eyes were blazing.
"I can understand why," he said matter-of-factly. "And she is kinda hot."
"She's a fucking whore," Iron Hand said. "If I'm not mistaken, you fixed one of her little fuck-buddies not too long ago."
Shawn whistled. "Damn. Wish I could remember who it was."
The doors slid open once more. This time, the Virus Creed snapped to attention and stayed in their positions. The CAA rookies stood up straighter and the hostility radiating from them increased ten-fold.
Rebecca Fries briskly walked from the entrance to the center of the arena. Her dark hair was tied back in a Chinese style bun with her bangs framing her face, drawing attention to her heavy-lidded icy eyes. Unlike her underlings, she wasn't wearing a cloak. A growl churned in the back of Shawn's throat when he saw some of the young men shooting lecherous glances at her slight curves which were cleanly outlined by her skin-tight suit. Plenty members of the CAA weren't as fanatical as the others. They would have no issues in satisfying their lust with someone of 'lesser blood'.
He relaxed after a moment and forced a smile.
"Marking a few?" Iron Hand inquired.
"Not quite."
Iron Hand nodded knowingly. "If we weren't us, we'd pity their sorry asses."
Yeah, you want her, you fuckers Shawn thought as he stared at the men. Think she'll be good in the sack? Heh. She'd tie you up and tickle your cock and balls with a feather until you lost your fucking minds.
The Virus Mistress came to a halt and faced her underlings first, then the CAA rookies.
"I apologize for the delay," she said in a tone that intentionally betrayed she was not sorry in the slightest.
Wisely, they all kept their mouths shut.
"Now then," Rebecca slowly began to pace. "We're all here at the request of your Grand Dragons. In order for the President to surrender the gaming industry to us, we need to let him know exactly who he's dealing with. We need to make him know that if it is not in our possession, it won't exist at all. My creed and I already have a plan for the realities that the Error Correctors are guardians of. Your job will be the lesser gaming industry. You will be trained in several styles of hand-to-hand combat and subterfuge so you can successfully accomplish this goal. My colleagues and I will be your instructors. The interface has granted you immortality as well as augmented strength and speed."
"What about powers?" One girl demanded.
Rebecca turned her frigid gaze to said person. "This has already been discussed with the Grand Dragons. You will not receive any of the psychic powers we possess."
The inevitable shrieks and protests that followed made Shawn grit his teeth. Rebecca clapped her hands and the powerful telekinetic blast the emitted from her was more than enough to shut them all up.
"I'll say it blandly," She whispered, but her voice was heard by all. "You may be immortal here, but we can make you wish we went for that particular programming."
"Oh, what are ya gonna do?" one of the young men leered at her. "You can't do anything to us, bitch. We're the blood of the CAA. Ya think the Grand Dragons are gonna let you get away with kickin' us around?"
Apparently, that one little outburst gave the rest of them some backbone, for more of them started shouting.
"We ain't afraid of you!"
"Try it! Do your worst, nigger club!"
"Fuck on all you kike-loving fags!"
One of them pointed at Iron Hand.
"You'll be the first fucking one to go, fucking nigger bitch! Fuck all traitors to fucking hell!"
"Its almost too good to be true," Iron Hand murmured, and then she moved.
Well, she didn't move. Rather, the ends of her cloak suddenly fused together and stretched into a long beam of metal that struck out like a whip, and toward her offender. The end of the metal vector morphed into a human-shaped hand and seized the boy by the neck, yanking him forward. She slowly approached her victim, another smile curling her lips. But this time, it was much closer to reaching her eyes.
"You know," she whispered, clearly enjoying the terror shining in the boy's eyes. "That's really not a very nice word to use. You might call me a hypocrite, but even I don't use it in such excess in so short an amount of time."
Quick as lightening, the metal hand retracted from the boy's throat and seized his groin instead.
"Think this will clean that particular word from your vocab?"
Sweat was dripping down the boy's now chalk-white face. He wasn't begging for mercy, but his fear had clearly amplified.
"Shove his dick up his asshole when we get out of here, Iron Hand," someone called. "Let him drown in his own piss."
Iron Hand didn't look back to see who had spoken, but her eyes slashed like steel at her victim.
"I'm not subtle like that," she said. The metal hand squeezed and a bellow of agony echoed off the arena. Hisses and jeers of approval rang from the present Virus Creed members, while the CAA shrank back.
Except for one.
"FUCK THIS!"
It was the girl who had been glaring at Shawn before. Shawn raised an intrigued eyebrow at her as she shoved her way to the front of fellows. Her face was red with rage.
"FUCK ALL OF YOU!" she screamed. "You call us cowards!? You can't take us on without those freak powers of yours. You think you all are so fucking smart!? You think there'll be a place for you in this world after we win!? I AIN'T AFRAID OF YOU!" she pointed directly at Rebecca. "THE WORST YOU COULD DO TO ME IS BLEED ON ME, NIGGER CHINK!"
Shawn didn't need to teleport. His speed was more than enough for him to cross the distance between them in a tenth of a second and yank the girl away from her comrades and to the middle of the arena. This was something he wanted all of them to see.
His hands gripped the girl's arms, holding her in place as if she were a rag doll. The rage hadn't died from her face, but her trembling was now due to fear as well. It was shining in her pallid eyes.
Unfortunately for her, Shawn didn't want her fear. He wanted something much, much more.
The aura of power surrounding Orion crackled like an electric storm. His flaming emerald eyes, seething and churning with fury had the girl almost whimpering in seconds.
"You think," he hissed in an almost serpentine voice. "That that's the worst we could do to you?" He squeezed her arms. "Do you?"
"F-fuck you," the girl's voice cracked as tears welled up in her eyes. "Get your filthy fucking hands off me."
Orion grinned at her, then seized her by the nape of her neck and covered her mouth with his. Her shriek was muffled as Orion effortlessly over powered her. He pressed as hard as he could, moving his lips obscenely and brutally over hers. When she began to struggle, he bit down hard on her lower lip, ripping soft flesh with his teeth. With his free hand, he yanked her shirt open and grabbed her breast, squeezing without mercy.
When he had had enough, Orion shoved her off of him and onto the floor. He licked his lips and grimaced.
"Guess I shouldn't be surprised that you taste like shit," he sneered.
Completely broken now, the girl was curled up in a fetal position, sobbing loudly with trauma and humiliation. Tears smeared her pallid cheeks, mixing in with the blood dripping from her split lip. Her arms shielded her exposed chest, but Orion could still make out large black bruises darkening her right breast.
He felt no remorse. He never felt remorse in situations like this, even though this was the first time he had ever done anything this extreme. There was no point of reminding this bitch of her hypocrisy. She would gleefully watch as every non-Caucasian person in this world suffered every torture and humiliation known to man. He glanced at Rebecca and saw that she was staring at him with an unreadable expression on her face. Behind her, a few CAA had attempted to help their comrade, but were being forcefully restrained by the Virus Creed.
Orion stared at Rebecca. At her beautiful icy eyes that stood in stark contrast to her dark face.
One of her parents had been Caucasian, but she had never mentioned which, though due to her last name, everyone assumed it was her father. The other had been a full-blooded Chinese. If he hadn't known Rebecca, he would have said she was completely Chinese.
Save for the color of her eyes.
What were the odds that the recessive blue-eyed gene would triumph over the dominant brown-eyed one while all the other dominant genes had fully emerged? How could she have been so blessed as to receive such an exquisite, unique feature?
How could there be people who thought she deserved torture and death for possessing such a lovely anomaly? She should be envied not hated.
A fresh wave of malevolence swamped Orion as he looked down at the girl he had just tormented. White-blond hair that was probably bleached, pasty skin and eyes that looked nearly colorless thanks to her tears. Orion grabbed her by the wrists and jerked her arms up. His booted foot pressed against her chest. Her shirt had splayed wide open, and unfortunately for her, her breasts were large enough so that his sole didn't just cover her sternum.
"Open your mouth in front of me again," he said almost matter-of-factly, "And I'll replace your tongue with your clit."
With that he released the wretched creature and stormed back to his colleagues. He ignored their praises and looks of approval, but acknowledged Iron Hand, who had released her own victim. Orion scanned the crowd of CAA and saw that the boy wasn't covered in blood or screaming.
"Mercy again, Iron Hand?" he asked in an almost disgusted tone.
She didn't even blink. "I may not be subtle, but his balls weren't sour enough."
The CAA who had tried to help the girl were now cradling broken limbs or had their hands covering bleeding wounds. Rebecca addressed them.
"We don't fuck around," was all she said before turning on her heel and moving toward the exit. Her creed followed closely behind her.
Orion didn't need to look back. He merely inhaled again.
And grinned.
xXx
The girl was not so reserved that she couldn't resist glancing around the vast expanse of his library with something close to wonder, Dooku noticed with pride and amusement.
"Is it to your liking?" he inquired anyway.
She nodded. "We have huge libraries back at home, but…I've never seen one like this before," a smile curled her mouth. "I've always loved books."
Dooku smiled back. "An understandable and admirable passion. You are free to explore here whenever you wish, even if I am not around. I place no restrictions on anything in this room. I only ask that you return it to its proper place when you are finished."
She smiled again in gratitude. "Thank you, Count. I'm very grateful."
"It is my pleasure. Now, come. Let us sit down."
Dooku led her to a sitting area where there were two elegantly carved chairs on either side of a black marble table. Dooku took one chair and gestured for her to take the other. He then summoned a serving droid to bring out refreshments.
"Would you care for some wine?"
She looked a bit taken aback.
"I'm twelve, Count."
Dooku smiled inwardly. She had passed a sophistication test.
"Tea, then?"
She looked a bit uncomfortable. "I've never had any from here before."
"Really? That is a shame," he addressed the droid. "A cup of Indigo Blend. Cream and sugar on the side. It is my personal favorite," he added to the girl.
She merely nodded in response and Dooku sat back.
"Now, then. According to my Master, you have been here for quite a while, yes?"
"Not too long," she responded. "And I've gone home in between periods of time."
"When did you first arrive?"
"When the Trade Federation began their blockade of Naboo."
"I had not left the Jedi Order yet," Dooku said. "Were your visits to the Temple limited?"
"I visited the Temple only once. The day before Queen Amidala returned to Naboo."
Dooku's brow raised slightly in intrigue at the undisguised hostility on her face and in her voice when she said the name of Naboo's current monarch. He made a mental note to bring up the subject later.
"Well, I suppose it was for the best that we did not meet when I was still a Jedi," Dooku conceded. "Granted, I pledged my full loyalty to my Master a mere day after Naboo was liberated, but the Jedi Temple was not my place of choice to have an unbiased conversation," he laced his fingers together, resting his elbows on the chair's arms. "I will admit outright that you fascinate me very much. There are many questions I would like to ask you, but my courtesy dictates that I ask if there is anything you wish to inquire about me first."
Dooku was mildly annoyed that her face was blank at his answer. Really, there were countless beings who would cheerfully wipe out entire planets for an opportunity like this. He was an enigma by his own choice, and yet he was willing to voluntarily share with her aspects of his past. She should be
(smiling at him)
Extending her sincere gratitude, not staring at him as if he were a wall!
Finally, she broke the silence.
"Why do you think the Republic is hopelessly corrupt?"
His annoyance was immediately replaced by surprise and a bit of flattery. He had expected her to ask about his heritage or his past. Instead she wanted to know about his views on a crucial subject. He noticed there was a trace of an anticipatory air about her that made him wonder if her views on the Republic were not so different from his despite her opinion of the Jedi. The Sith Lord straightened with a renewed sense of satisfaction.
"I am afraid that is a question to which there are numerous answers," he replied. "It could, perhaps take years before you fully understand them. The progression of my Master's plan would provide more clarity than I, I'm afraid."
"I think I understand a couple of them already."
"Oh? Which?"
"Galidraan and Balitzaar."
Dooku went very still.
"How much do you know of them?"
"My superiors have been recording information on this dimension years before I was born. I saw specific visual recordings with my own eyes. Oh, they don't spy on you," she added off the look on his face. "If they get wind of an event that they feel has great significance, they record it."
"How is that done?"
"I wouldn't know. I'm just one of their agents."
If she was lying, she was doing a flawless job of it.
"If you know about Galidraan, then you know the Jedi Council refused to investigate after I presented my valid suspicions to them."
Her eyes hardened a bit.
"Yes."
"The mission was poorly directed from the start, even if the deception had not occurred," Dooku said darkly. "The task force that the Council assigned to Galidraan consisted of Jedi that were not chosen for their combat experience, but rather their proximity to the planet. All of them, myself and Komari included had been torn from our previous assignments and were ordered to make haste, as we had received reports from the Governor that innocents were being slaughtered along with political activists. Tell me, what do you know of the True Mandalorians?"
"They were a group of nomadic mercenaries formed thousands of years ago. They specialize in a unique type of armor and established a reputation of being the galaxy's ultimate soldiers."
"You used past tense," Dooku noted. She didn't answer and he continued. "Their reputation was not exaggerated in the slightest. My Jedi Master had presented me with information regarding the Mandalorians in my younger years. Not very much, but substantial enough for me to be more than wary of who we were facing. On our way to Galidraan, I questioned my comrades as to their personal knowledge of our supposed foes," Dooku's eyes narrowed.
"Only three of them knew that the Mandalorians even existed."
Surprise crossed her face.
"What?"
Dooku resisted the urge to smile. "Precisely my own reaction. As I said before, the task force was chosen for how close they were to Galidraan and how quickly they could get there. Of course I requested more assistance, though I should have insisted. Even so, innocents were dying and reinforcements could only travel so fast in hyperspace.
Since you witnessed the gory details yourself, I need not say Galidraan was a bloodbath. The Mandalorians are now but a memory save for one--"
"Two," she interrupted.
Dooku gave a faint smile. "Two," he amended. "But soon to be one."
Her face was very calm at his answer. A little too calm.
"The Mandalorians were worthy warriors, and I deeply regret their deaths. When Fett killed three of my comrades using only his bare hands, I did not feel fear or hate. Such emotions are forbidden for a Jedi. But I did feel respect for him. Had I been the only Jedi survivor, I would sent him on his way without a second thought. Unfortunately, I knew my comrades were not in the same mind. The Council decreed that Fett be turned over to the Governor to receive justice, and I obeyed. Like a spineless worm," He shook his head in self-disgust. "After Galidraan, I refused to accept any more field missions, though I deeply regret I did not leave the order then and there."
"Why didn't you?"
Dooku debated on whether he should tell her. He had kept the story of Galidraan as open and unbiased as he could as she would know if he was deliberately putting the Jedi in an unflattering light. Not that he needed to, mind you. The full details themselves took care of that quite admirably. But her current question permitted an answer that was deeply personal to Dooku, one that he had never revealed to anyone before.
Well, he had seen beforehand that she wasn't one to display childish disrespect. And as Lord Sidious had once told him; one must give trust to earn it.
"I knew that the JedI Order had been serving a corrupt Senate for countless years. I knew the Council was fallible. I knew the training methods were far from perfect. So why would I remain there for twelve years after partaking personally in such an eye-opening atrocity, you ask? Because I thought I could still accomplish some good as a Jedi. I thought I could right certain wrongs, make the galaxy a better place, establish some positive changes and do better than maintain the status quo," his face darkened. "In short, I was an utter fool. To my eternal shame, another reason was that I could not imagine a life outside the Jedi Order. I was weak."
Harlene shook her head. "I don't think that's something you should be ashamed of. My mentor once told me that the older you get, the more set in your ways you become which makes it all the more harder to adapt to something new. I'm probably too young to fully comprehend that, but I know we Humans are creatures of habit."
Her words contained not a trace of idealism. She wasn't excusing him or judging him, she was
(trying to understand him)
Expressing what she truly felt while keeping an open mind.
Dooku smiled at her.
"Your mentor sounds very wise. Who is he?"
"She," Harlene corrected. "Her name is Claire Selton. She's the best of our entire creed. She took me on as her apprentice when I was first recruited."
The serving droid arrived carrying a tray containing wine glasses and a saucer with a steaming mug. Dooku poured himself a glass of wine and took a sip. He saw Harlene staring at the contents of her mug with curiosity.
"I recommend only a bit of cream. To each his own of course, but sugar robs it of its natural flavor."
Harlene nodded and took the advice. She sipped the tea. Dooku smiled in satisfaction off her pleased look.
"It has a soothing taste," she said. "Almost like Chamomile."
"Good," he took another sip of wine before placing it on the table. Harlene did the same with her mug. "At what age were you recruited?"
"I was four."
"Your parents gave you away?" it took considerable effort to keep any coldness from his voice.
"No," she said darkly. "They're dead."
"Ah," Dooku's face softened slightly. "I see."
"I don't remember very much of them. I don't even remember how they died, just that they did," she looked sorrowful. "I know I can't help it, but if I knew how, then I could properly honor their memory."
"I understand, to a certain degree," Dooku said quietly. "Loss is one thing, but to be ignorant as to how it came to pass makes one wonder if one could have prevented it somehow. Not that you could have, of course, you were merely a child," he sighed. "I myself lost someone barely three months ago. My first Padawan, Qui-Gon Jinn."
Harlene nodded. "I knew him."
Dooku looked at her sharply.
"You did?"
She smiled in a wistful manner. "He was the only one who didn't seem shocked when I introduced myself for what I was. He was wary of me at first, but not blatantly suspicious. It was almost as if he had been expecting me to arrive all along."
Dooku chuckled. "Qui-Gon always had a unique disposition. Despite his severe connection to the Living Force, he always had an undying fascination for unique things. One of the rare traits he had I shared," Fresh rage stabbed at him and he didn't bother to hide it. "He should not have died."
"Darth Maul was more skilled than Obi-Wan and he was in his prime, unlike Qui-Gon--"
"I was not referring to that stupid, savage animal," Dooku cut her off sharply. "I was speaking of the Jedi Council."
Her eyes flashed in fury. From what Dooku didn't know, but she asked immediately, "What are you talking about?"
"Were you aware that Qui-Gon presented to them his suspicions that Maul was a Sith, yet they did not believe him right away?"
She nodded.
"Were you aware that the Council knew how formidable Maul was as he nearly defeated Qui-Gon in one-on-one combat?"
"Yes."
"Then answer me this: why did the Council not send more reinforcements to Naboo, rather than just the same Master and Padawan team they had originally dispatched for a diplomatic mission? Especially when said Master was nearly killed the first time he fought the same adversary?"
Her face went completely blank. As if his words were physical slaps that knocked all emotion off her expression. Dooku watched her for several moments, sensing deep conflict within her.
"You cannot answer, can you?"
"I..I don't…"
"You don't have to," Dooku waved a hand. "I would not expect you to. But I do advise you to think on this."
She glared at him suspiciously.
"Are you implying that the Council deliberately sent only two Jedi to Naboo because they intended for Qui-Gon to be killed?"
Dooku resisted the urge to smile at the irony.
"No I do not," he said sincerely. "However, I do believe they were in the same mind as when Galidraan occurred."
She didn't say anything. Dooku hadn't expected her to.
"Do not misunderstand me," he said. "I harbored no doubts as to the prowess of Qui-Gon and his Padawan. They were a formidable team. Very formidable. It was only by a shred of misfortune that they were separated during the battle. They could have prevailed by themselves. It really was no contest: two sophisticated, civilized individuals versus a delusional brute who thought pure skill could effectively compensate for intelligent analysis." Dooku took a sip of wine and chuckled with amusement. "I cannot help but pity my Master in that particular case. Though I imagine it was useful having a beast that wore its leash willingly and understood basic commands to a reasonable degree--"
"Count Dooku."
Dooku lowered his glass, perhaps faster than he normally would, but the clipped, dark voice seething with malice issuing from his companion instantly demanded his attention.
"I haven't been blind to your previous barbs from before," she lowered her face and her eyes seemed to cast black shadows on her white skin. "And I have been lenient on you because such views are, of course, as natural to you as breathing," she pointed her finger at him. "But call him that in front of me one more time and I'll make sure that Sidious's opinion of you is even lower than yours of Maul's. Understand?"
Dooku couldn't help but be astonished at first at the deadly serious and, dare he even say it…protective look on her face. The emotion died a quick deflated death, however. Dooku's previous outward amusement vanished and he stared at her coolly.
"Indeed?" his voice was calm to the point of sheer boredom. "I should warn you then that I have not handed you any potential blackmail material. If you wish to humiliate me before my Master using what I have just told you, I am afraid you will be sorely disappointment."
"Really?" her eyes widened in mock surprise and disappointment as if she were humoring a frustrated child. "Well, that's such a goddamn fucking shame. Now I'll actually have to use my brain and, dare I even say it, think of plan that's original and creative rather than quick and half-assed. Oh, how I loathe doing that."
The last sentence was drawn out in a sarcastic drawl, but in less than the blink of an eye, her face was the pinnacle of seriousness.
"Go on, Dooku," she said quietly. Taunting. "Call him that again. I want you to call him that again."
They stared at one another in a test of wills. Dooku wearing his cold, aristocratic mask of unshakable elegance. Harlene smiling almost gleefully.
After a unknown amount of time, neither contestant having blinked once, Dooku finally relaxed.
Congratulations, Observer.
"I have no desire to indulge in these ridiculous games of yours," he said. "If you wish to be humored, you would have better luck with Jango Fett rather than myself."
"Oh, I doubt that, Count," her smile widened. "But if you really are that tired of me…" she picked up her tea saucer and stood up. "Just tell me where the kitchen is so I can drop this off on my way--"
"You misunderstand. I don't want you to leave. Not just yet," he gestured at her chair. "Please sit."
She took a drink of tea before obliging. Perhaps this had been unforeseeable, but all the same, Dooku hated making mistakes. The openness that had been in her posture and expression before had now completely vanished. Apologizing to her was out of the question. She would dismiss it before he could get the second syllable out. What's more, she would be right to do so. He would have to start back from square one.
And he knew just how to do it.
"I was mistaken it seems," he mused. "As was my Master."
The added sentence had the desired effect. She didn't perk up, but new interest sparked her eyes.
"What do you mean?"
"Lord Sidious informed me a month ago about your acquaintanceship. He said you had revealed certain aspects of your past to Maul, and presumed that you held a degree of loyalty and respect for him. But after a while he decided you did not as your status far outweighed his past tool's. My Master harbors reasonable respect for you, it seems."
"Yeah, well, we all have our own definitions of respect," Harlene countered.
"True," Dooku amended. "But perhaps I am getting a little ahead of myself. Tell me, was he truly obsessed with you?"
"Why the fuck should I tell you anything?" she said with a trace of a snarl. "You've already made your opinion of him very clear. Its not like you can't get your kicks by taking what you already know and distorting it for your own amusement. Isn't that one of the things that Sith are best at?"
"Why did you stay with Maul, then?"
She glared at him.
"Wouldn't you love to know."
Dooku shook his head. "I will not take back what I said about him. And its not him I'm interested in. Not in the least bit."
"You want to know more about me," she finished. "And you think a good way to start is by finding about the details of my relationship to him."
The Sith Lord graced her with a nod. "Precisely."
"You still haven't told me why I'm going to bother telling you anything at all."
Dooku stared at her.
"Do you know how he truly viewed you? Did he ever do anything that made you confused? Did he ever give complete answers when you questioned him about anything personal?"
"I have a good enough idea."
"To the first question, you mean. But you're not satisfied."
She didn't answer, and Dooku smiled.
"I confess that I never met him before in my life. But Lord Sidious shared with me things I am sure even you are unaware of." He paused, then said. "I can help you."
She was listening, but the suspicion in her eyes hadn't died.
"I may not know you," she whispered. "But I know that the word 'help' does not exist in Count Dooku's vocabulary, unless it relates to Count Dooku directly or indirectly."
"From a certain perspective," Dooku allowed. "I am not a selfish man, Harlene. I am pragmatic. At an early age I learned that there are beings in this galaxy that exist for the sole purpose of serving the purposes of others. If they're lucky, they manage to make subtle changes in the galaxy on their before they join the Force."
"So, I'm being shoved into that category?" she asked coolly.
He smiled. "Note I said from this galaxy."
"You're fucking hilarious, Count."
Dooku scowled at her. "I request that you keep your profanity to a minimum, or better yet, dispel it completely."
She smirked at him. "I don't usually go looking for conflicts, but I also don't fold my hands in my lap like a good little princess. One thing you need to be clear on Count, is that I may be a girl, but I'm no lady. Its one of the few failings I have that I'm actually proud of."
"I can see that," Dooku said coldly.
"Ah, don't worry, Count," she shrugged with lazy casualness. "I have faith that you can suck it up with impeccable ease."
Her condescension was irritating, but Dooku admired the fact that while obnoxious, it lacked carelessness. He wasn't angry at her. Rather, it was good for him to know she could be both blunt and subtle in the same breath.
"How fortunate for me," he replied unemotionally.
A beeping noise suddenly emitted from Harlene. Without excusing herself, she withdrew a metal device from her cloak and placed it in front of her eyes. Dooku strained to see what she was doing, but she lowered it a second later.
"I'm afraid I have to go now," she said unapologetically. "Other events demand my attention." She stood up.
"When can you return?"
She looked a bit surprised at his question. Dooku mentally smiled in triumph when he realized it was because she had been expecting him to be eager to be rid of her.
I am not your Geonosian tour guides, little one he thought.
"I'm not really sure," she said after a moment.
Dooku stood up in turn. "You may return here whenever you wish. I trust you will have no difficulties in finding me here."
She shook her head.
"If, by any chance, you can stop by tomorrow, would you care to spar with me?"
Harlene smiled dryly. "That sick of talking already, are you?"
"Not at all," he replied smoothly. "I am merely curious as to your level of skill with a blade. That is, if you are willing to share."
She was silent for a moment before nodding.
"Tomorrow, then."
She disappeared and Dooku smiled.
xXx
Harlene didn't leave Serenno right away. Rather, she settled herself on one of the many edges of Dooku's estate and brooded silently before calling Claire directly for the second time in a row.
"I just had my second meeting with Count Dracula."
"And?"
Harlene bit her lip. "Claire…he told me more about the Battle of Galidraan. Is it true that the Jedi sent there barely knew anything about the Mandalorians?"
"Yes," Claire answered. "They weren't chosen for their knowledge of the enemy or their skill, they were chosen based on how fast they could get to the planet."
Harlene grimaced. She had hoped Dooku had been lying or exaggerating. Choosing a force based solely on its proximity to the location was almost as poor a decision as not choosing to investigate the massacre after it occurred. Innocents had been dying of course, but what was the point of sending rescuers in the first place if they weren't properly prepared to face the enemy slaughtering said innocents. It was worse than not sending anybody at all.
Hell, it was like the Council had sent that relief force on a suicide mission!
"Why?" she whispered, her voice practically trembling.
"You'll find out soon enough," Claire's voice was completely neutral, betraying nothing. "What do you think of Dooku?" she asked.
Grateful for the change of subject, Harlene bluntly responded, "I don't like him."
"I would be greatly surprised if you did," Claire sounded amused.
"I made another mistake, Claire," Harlene confessed. "I know he's a manipulator, but for a while I let myself relax while I was with him."
"What do you plan to do in the future to make sure it doesn't happen again?"
"I've noticed that mindfucking is one of his specialties," she said. "I need to be on my guard at all times around him. I can't tell myself not believe anything he says. If I get fanatical and paranoid like that he'll know. And it'll weaken me. I just need to keep an open mind."
"If he's truly interested in you, then that's easier said than done. Do you think you're some idle, passing whim for him?"
Harlene bit her lip.
"Be honest with yourself, Harlene, if nothing else," Claire warned.
"No," it came out a whisper.
She could almost see Claire's serious nod. "Then he'll use whatever's at his disposal to win you. By the way, what broke his charming spell?"
"He called Maul an animal," Harlene said through clenched teeth.
"And he's still alive?"
"Funny," Harlene said, but without malice, knowing that Claire wasn't taunting her. "But that's another thing I wanted to talk to you about."
"Yes?"
"Dooku wants to know about how I related to Maul. He said outright that it'll provide insight to me, personally."
"How honest of him," Claire said dryly.
"He says he knows a few things…things Sidious told him, but…" she trailed off, then exploded in a fit of self-disgust. "Why the fuck am I even considering it!? I should go back there right now and tell him to go fuck himself!"
"Don't blame yourself for being human, Harlene," Claire said quietly. "Its only natural you'd want to understand how Maul truly viewed you."
"Its not that, not really," Harlene muttered. "At least I have a few theories for that. I'd rather know why he was so obsessed with me."
"I won't deny that Dooku could help you," Claire responded.
"Thanks, that makes it so much easier," Harlene couldn't keep the sarcasm from her voice.
"Do you feel guilty for wanting to discuss a subject with Dooku that he has outright disrespect for?"
"Yeah," Harlene muttered.
"I once told you that the one thing a Sith hates above all else is being confused," Claire said. "Think about it, Harlene. Maul may have been honorable, but if the situations were reversed, he would have gone so far as to rummage through your underwear if it meant finding something about you."
"Thank you so much for giving me that visual, my dear mentor, 'cause its exactly what I needed right now," Harlene said, but she was almost laughing.
"Anytime. Just make sure to let me know how it turns out."
Harlene cut the link and sighed. She still felt weary, but a bit better than before. Standing up, she stretched her muscles before teleporting to Jango's ship. Hopefully he had cooled down enough. She still had her barriers, but her emotions were frayed enough as it was.
"We'll be emerging out of hyperspace within a minute. Take a seat and strap in," he spoke before she had stopped behind him.
Hello to you too Harlene thought bitterly, but obeyed.
Jango keyed in a transmission code and a second later, Rozatta's face emerged on the view screen.
"Oh, good lord, Jango," she immediately huffed. "I can't believe you're still flying around in that piece of scrap. Not to mention you're traveling with a lady, also!"
"For the time being," Jango corrected shortly.
Roz sighed. "Come on Jango, why not spend some cash on a brand new ship? You've got more than enough."
"When Correllian Hell freezes over," Jango said. "You know she belonged to Jaster Meerel."
"I know, I know. The Mandalorain soldier who took you under his wing," Roz leaned in. "Do you ever think you hold onto that ship and those memories, because you're looking for someone to take under your own wing?" Her eyes briefly flickered to Harlene in an almost sly manner.
Jango gave a short chuckle. "Roz, you're sounding like a psych droid. What's the info on the deathstick dealer?"
"With you its always business," Roz threw her hands up in frustration but then smiled brightly. "But at least you've got some good company for now. And female company at that," she grinned even wider and gestured to Harlene. "Heh. Now this one's gonna be a real looker when she grows up. A shame she isn't older, or else you and she could--"
"Roz," Jango snapped sharply. "The death stick dealer."
"Oh, all right," Roz huffed in annoyance as if Jango had just spoiled her fun. Her image on the view screen changed to that of a portly Human male with spiky red hair and large sunglasses. "Jervis Gloom. Coruscant police want him alive. My sources tell me he works the entertainment sector near the warehouse. His gang hangs around at the local bars. Ya think this creep knows anything about the Bando Gora?"
"I'll be sure to ask him when I find him," Jango said simply. The transmission ended and he turned to Harlene. "Don't mind her. She's getting up there in years and poking at members of newer generations is a common pastime for old timers."
"It's all right," Harlene shrugged. "I know she was joking." On both counts.
Jango stared at her for a brief moment before turning his attention to the approaching planet.
"Have you ever been to Coruscant's underworld?" he asked.
"The levels I've been to are even lower than the one we're going to right now."
"Good. Then you know what to expect."
More than you know she thought.
xXx
Maybe it was a good thing that the girl wasn't one to hold grudges over petty things, but it annoyed Jango all the same. She looked thirteen at the most, yet her behavior completely contradicted what was typical for a teenage girl. She was too well-spoken, too cool-headed. Perhaps those were reasons why her superiors had chosen her, but it made any semblance of trusting her all the more impossible. Which was fine, of course. He didn't need to trust her, and he had no intention of trusting her. What he wanted was her information on the Bando Gora, and to find out what she truly wanted from him. He was still more than open to the fact that she was lying about her purpose here, and who she was.
Multi-colored lights from various bars, clubs and brothels blazed when they approached the entertainment sector. Jango settled the ship on a landing pad and unbuckled.
"Do you know how to use a blaster?" he asked.
In response, she lifted one up.
"That's not an answer," he snapped.
She scowled. "Yes, Jango, I can use a blaster."
Jango was tempted to tell her that that was the only reason she wasn't staying on the ship, but her previous warning cautioned him to keep his tongue.
However, that didn't mean he wasn't in charge.
"Listen carefully," he said in a low tone. "If you're coming with me, I'm setting some boundaries--"
"--which can all be summed up in doing whatever you say--"
"--and keeping your mouth shut at all times--"
"--if the situation permits--"
"--and not using your powers--"
"--if we don't end up in that dire of a situation."
Jango tried to scowl, but he couldn't help but be amused and pleased. Her face was honest and serious. She knew this was his arena, and respected his position enough to shelve her pride and let him take charge without question.
Good.
Jango holstered his blasters and adjusted his jetpack before lowering the ramp. The girl silently followed beside him. Jango glanced at her and saw she was now wearing a black, metal belt with the blaster holstered at her hip. He had a strong suspicion that she had materialized both items out of thin air, but didn't ask about it. Conspicous was a word that was practically non-existent in the underworld of Coruscant(unless bounty hunters were involved)so he had no objections to her all-black attire.
It didn't take long for them to reach a substantially populated sector. Jango's eyes scanned the crowd of various beings, paying special attention to their activities and body language. He inhaled deeply and let it out slowly.
"This is a good place to start," he said.
Harlene nodded. "I smell it too."
"Keep your eyes and nose peeled. If we're going to find Jervis, we need to find who works for him."
"So we're looking for someone who deals out the goods personally."
"Exactly."
The streets here weren't nearly as filthy as the ones on ground level, so the spicy, yet revolting smell of death sticks wasn't drowned out by other even more despicable scents. It wasn't long before Jango spotted a male Sullustan who, at first glance, appeared to be walking with a limp.
Or not.
Once again, Jango didn't glance to see if his companion was right behind him before turning sharply in the direction of a possible new lead. No one spared him a glance as he grabbed the arm of the alien.
"I have a question for you," he said without preamble.
"Huhhh…whhhh..wh'r yu?" he mumbled thickly, drug-glazed black eyes unfocused.
"Where do you get your death sticks?"
"Nnnnnn…wuhhh?"
Jango shoved the end of his blaster under the alien's throat.
"Deathsticks," he repeated. "Where do you get them?"
The physical threat was enough to sober the being up a bit. His hands shook as he tried to raise them.
"Rrroun…corner n'lef side…dishh stree'…nearer Huttt's Hareeem bar…dealer Reezzzzz Andoooor."
"Describe him," Jango ordered.
"'uman. Brown shkinn. Bald. Big shhaades--"
Jango abruptly released the intoxicated wretch and stalked off in the opposite direction. He noticed Harlene had stayed right beside him the entire time. The girl gave him a slightly annoyed look.
"I saw a few other potential junkies a few yards in front of that one. They all looked sober enough to answer your question without having to use threats."
"It doesn't matter," Jango waved a dismissive hand. "I have a lead," he glared at her. "I suggest you keep a firm leash on that compassion of yours. You'll see me do things to beings you won't approve of quite often. Unless you want to join them, don't get involved."
"It wasn't compassion, per se, it was--"
"Quiet," he snapped.
She glared at him contemptuously, but did as she was told.
Had they been on the ship, Jango wouldn't have been so short with her, but this was hostile ground. He needed to keep an extra firm hand with the girl to discourage her against doing anything foolish to screw up the hunt. Idle compassion didn't exist in the world he lived in, and if she wanted to stay with him, she needed to understand that.
They rounded the left corner and Jango spotted the Hutt's Harem a block down the road. He didn't tell the girl to keep an eye out. No doubt she was still sulking…
"There he is."
Jango turned his head at the direction she was pointing and sure enough, a Human male bearing the precise physical description the Sullustan had given him was leaning lazily against an ally wall, conversing with a Zeltron prostitute.
Knowing there would be plenty of time to feel irritation at Harlene later, Jango moved. The conversation ceased upon his approach. He ignored the Zeltron and addressed the Human.
"Are you Rez Andor?"
The man snorted.
"Who the kark wants to know?"
"I'm looking for Jervis Gloom."
Andor snorted again. "What d'ya want with him?"
"That's none of your business."
"The bastard's Hutt slime," Andor said dismissively. "I don't give two spits 'bout him. Hmm," he mused looking thoughtful. "Let's make a deal. Give me an hour with that sweet little Schutta beside you and I'll--"
Jango drew his blaster, but the threats he was about to voice suddenly died on his lips when he saw Andor looking down in terror. Jango followed his gaze and saw the tip of a long thin blade poking directly into his nether regions.
Harlene, wearing a look on her face so inhumanly blank and impassive it could put a starless space to shame, pressed the thin sword she was holding deeper into Andor's groin. The Zeltron gasped and fled, but no one paid her any heed.
"We're looking for Jervis Gloom," Harlene said, and Jango wondered for a split second if it was a bottomless chasm speaking and not a Human being. "You know where he is."
"Um…Hey," sweat was pouring down Andor's rapidly paling face. He managed a weak smile. "C'mon, you ain't flattered? I was about to chose ya over a fraggin' Zeltron--"
The Observer's hand twitched forward and a crimson stain began to smear Andor's pants. Andor's bellow of agony was muffled into a choke when Harlene raised her free hand and pinched her fingers together. She released him a few seconds later and he collapsed against the wall, panting harshly and rapidly.
"H-he's…last time..saw him an hour ago," Andor choked and babbled. "He told me he was going to the Zhar's Lounge for a drink. Its on a platform north from here. That's all I know, swear to Providence."
Harlene pulled the tip of her sword from him and he sucked in air managing to suppress another scream, but a whimper forced its way through his teeth as he limped away as fast as he could. Jango stared after him for a moment before realizing Harlene was already walking in the direction Andor had indicated. He swiftly caught up to her.
She didn't acknowledge him. Fifteen minutes later, Jango swallowed his pride.
"That was a good intimidation tactic."
Apparently, she caught on that that was the closest thing he would ever say to I was wrong about you. She flashed him a quick smile.
"You'll think that so long as you're never at the receiving end of it." Which was the closest she would ever say to you're forgiven.
The words had barely left her mouth when Jango gestured for her to stop. He activated his bounty scanner and stared directly at a portly Human up ahead with spiky red hair large sunglasses.
Confirmed: Jervis Gloom.
Wanted: Alive
Reward: five-thousand credits
Just then, Jervis turned around and his mouth widened. He turned on his heel and sped in the opposite direction.
"How nice," Harlene remarked wryly. "He knows you."
"He'll know me a lot better soon enough," Jango responded and ran after his prey. This time, the only reason he didn't look back for Harlene was because he knew he didn't have to.
xXx
(A/N): something I forgot to mention about Chapter 6. The Geonosian personalities and even some dialogue was influenced by the fic Cream Rises by Hemichen. Check it out. Its great!
Also, the only thing I made up about Dooku's description of Galidraan was that only three Jedi knew that the Mandalorians even existed. The rest of the information is courtesy of the Jedi vs. Sith encyclopedia by Ryder Windham.
