Professional Courtesy
~AN: Another Priire story! This one is actually StarMoon ( http://starmoon.freeservers.com ) cannon, although it was edited down for the list. The PG-13 is due to exsessive violence. For the record—this is pre-Episode I. The prsice setting changes each time there is a time break. The first section is about 5 years before the second section. The third section is around the time of the first, and so on. Nom/The Mechanic is copyrighted to the Gnome. Priire/The Hawkbat is copyrighted to me.~
Two women sat in a dark corner booth in a hot and dingy cantina. The blonde woman was leaning against the wall with one knee up and her other leg hanging off the edge of the seat. The other woman was hyper-alert in such a way that she seemed to be the sole possessor of all she saw, without letting its taints invade her soul. "Mech," the masked woman said. Both came here often, each with her own purpose.
"Yes?" There was little curiosity in the voice of the other female. It was buried beneath a shield of near emotionless affect.
Taking little heed of the other's normal coldness, the blonde continued to speak. "I found something that might interest you."
Nothing was said for a moment as the masked female pulled a package about the length of her forearm out of her pack. "Alderaan" she said with a frigid smile, "is known for many things. The least of which is an inventive swordsmith who has set up shop in the Outer Rim. Few know of his fine craftsmanship. I thought perhaps you would be interested in a sample."
By this time, the masked woman had unwrapped the objects. Glinting faintly in the low light lay two daggers. Each was different, incorporating a different animal into the design of the handle. One bore the likeness of a bird-of-prey swooping on some innocent victim. The other showed the image of some reptilian creature slithering around the grip.
The dark-haired woman's eyes lit up slightly. There was fine craftsmanship in every line of the unusual weapon. The hilt was intricately worked with the animal designs, but what was of more interest was the actual blade of the weapon. It was not two-edged like most daggers; this weapon had three sharp edges. The woman flipped a braid over her shoulder and looked at her masked companion for an explanation.
"Sanjigen," the blonde said quietly, as her green eyes played over the weapon. Whether those eyes held lust for the weapon or the blood it could shed, no one knew. "Keep it. Professional courtesy," she smiled cruelly. "The design is quiet ingenious." Holding up one of the daggers, she let the light play over its surface as she turned it over in her hands. "It can painlessly pierce a being's heart without killing. The being will only die if they struggle, or" she smiled cruelly, "if the weapon is twisted, even slightly. Otherwise, the blade can be pulled out—it causes considerable pain, I'm told—and leaves nothing but an oddly shaped scar."
Holding the dagger in her hands, the dark-haired warrior studied it. "It is a well-crafted item, Hawk," she said softly. "I believe we may be faced with an opportunity to use it."
The other girl smiled. "Wonderful. It's a nice thing to use for executions." She let her smile turn dark. The masked mercenary was not known for her compassion or her leniency. She was, however, known for playing with her prey before it died. "I don't think I've ever used it in a fight. It'll be…enlightening." Her eyes flashed darkly as two men approached.
"Are you the Hawkbat?" one asked.
The blonde stretched before turning her blue and black masked eyes on the man. The sheer intensity in her eyes made him almost step back.
Apparently, that was answer enough for the man. He turned the blaster in his shaky hands on her and fired. With a very slight motion, the blonde was able to avoid the blast.
"That wasn't very nice, young man," the girl said, her voice a deep purr that dripped with malice. Her fingers played upon the hilt of the dagger near her. "I don't particularly like being shot at."
The blonde's dark-haired companion had, by this point, slid out of the booth. She kept her deep eyes trained on the trio and was not surprised when the other man grabbed her arm and held a blaster to her head.
"I'll kill her!" the man said.
Contrary to the worried reaction they had expected, the lounging blonde laughed. It was the kind of short, derisive bark that one favors fools with. "Be my guest," the mercenary told him.
Just as the man began to pull the trigger, the warrior moved. The pure force of her sharp movement made the man yelp in pain. The warrior wasn't the only one moving. Her companion had launched herself from the booth she'd previously occupied. The mercenary jabbed her elbow in the man's throat as she reached for her blaster. Once the weapon was in her hands, she fired. Killing was not her motive at first. First, she merely wished to cause pain. As she used her blaster's lower setting to peel the man's flesh from his bones, the smuggler woman was involved in her own form of torture.
The warrior's beauty was tinged with a fear-inducing component. Whether it was the long braids that flared out like snakes around her head, or her incredible height, she rarely caused anything other than fear. Now, with a three-sided dagger in her hand, she was even more terrible.
She drove the sword into the man's chest, skewering his heart. The man gasped, and gurgled like there was some unknown liquid in his throat. His eyes were wider than any human's had a right to be as he looked down at the weapon in his chest. He tried not to move, fearing somehow that if he would hold still, the awful nightmare would end.
As an experiment, the warrior pulled the blade out an inch. A wordless scream of sheer agony opened the man's mouth, but produced no wound. The warrior raised an eyebrow. Fascinating. Now the wound was bleeding slightly from each point of the scooped in triangle. Her companion had been correct. This was indeed a weapon worthy of renown.
Tired of play the game, the warrior gave the dagger a swift twist. There was a sickening ripping sound as the weapon tore through flesh and muscle to bring about the death of the man. He slid off the end of her weapon and the warrior examined it. She herself felt no pain. It was an unknown sensation.
Blood from the blade trickled onto her hand and dripped to the floor. That was when she became aware of two things. A man on the floor screaming for someone to kill him, and two officers entering the cantina's door. She waved her hand towards them and her blonde companion frowned.
The man who had first attacked her was a scarred mess. His body was covered in burns the exposed muscle and bone in places. Most of his fingers were gone, burned to nonexistence by the girl's blaster.
She paused, wondering if she should indeed kill him. The girl shrugged and brushed her bangs back as she noticed her warrior companion doing the same. The mercenary offered up a tight and humorless smile at the scar she saw of the other's forehead.
As she and the warrior walked out, the mercenary dropped a glass of lum. The glass shattered and some of the alcohol splashed on to the man. He screamed again and felt around for the shards of glass, planning to use them to kill himself.
Neither of the two killers noticed.
~*~*~*~*~
