Greetings again, my loyal readers and all you new people just now jumping in. I'm back with another chapter of "Imperials" for your reading pleasure. Before we begin, I'll answer a couple of quick question as always.
1) Freya's people are kind of/sort of based on an amalgamation of Scottish (duh), Viking, and Irish cultures of old, along with some minor elements of Spartans, Maori and yes, Mandalorians. But as warlike as they are, they're also mostly peaceful, and prefer to get along with one another and live life to its fullest. They love to eat, sing, dance and all things nature. In that way, they're a lot like Hobbits. Tall, chaotic Hobbits.
2) Thorne is not my waifu. I'm too old for waifus. Neither is Veruna, in case you were wondering, you strange bird. lol
3) Yes, I have song in here that aren't native to the Star Wars universe. You'll hear a bunch of music in this story, including FUN, Third Eye Blind, Zac Efron, Meat Loaf, Lorde, and more of my favorite stuff. Freya sing a BUNCH of Mary Fahl stuff. If you've never heard of this inhumanly amazing singer, go look her up. Sorry if the music takes you out of the mood, but though this may not be your Way, but it is my Way, and I have spoken.
Alright. All questions are answered for now, so let's get on with the story. Remember, I dont own Star Wars, any of the characters thereof, or any of the songs depicted herein. Enjoy, everyone!
Drakken awoke to Zala holding onto him. Her left arm was draped over his chest, her head on his left shoulder. Her left leg was practically wrapped around his thighs. In her sleep, she had clung to him like some tentacled beast. He tensed at first, every muscle in his body tightening against the alien feeling of someone being that close to him. He looked at the woman sleeping on him for a few moments, and relaxed. Drakken finally sighed, and resigned himself to it. She looked so serene, so happy. Drakken breathed a laugh. He kissed her forehead, and carefully wiggled out of her embrace.
He stood and stretched, then checked the time. They'd gotten in around oh-four-hundred, and it was now ten-twenty-eight. Drakken thought about waking her up, but thought better of it, and decided to let her get a little more sleep before they started the chase anew. He had a morning cigarra, and boiled some caf. With a cup of his morning brew in hand, Tharcourt peeked out of a window, watching the activity on the skylane outside. He narrowed his eyes, and allowed himself a moment of reflection. Somewhere out there, in this city of billions, was Latoure.
He wasn't like the Seps. The droid soldiers moved out in the open and had no concept of cover and concealment. They stood and fought, no matter what their opposition. They were dumb…at least the B-1's. Latoure was intelligent…brighter than the best tactical droid, even more brilliant than the rebels he had been pursuing for the last couple of years. He knew how to hide. Worst of all, he was an enemy who knew when to fight, and when to hide. Drakken pondered on what would happen if the rebels ever became this well organized, this wily. What if they had? He shook his head. The answer was always the same; he would find them. That was his job; to hunt down enemies of the peace, terrorists and warmongers. He was going to find Latoure.
He looked back at Zala, still asleep, but now sprawled across the bed. They had to catch the rogue ISB agent. It would probably mean unthinkable punishment for both of them if they failed. She was adequate at her job for sure, but she was no huntress, Drakken thought to himself. She was more like a cop, a damned good one, but a cop nonetheless; stuck in procedures and hesitant to commit fully to the chase. She wasn't a soldier like him, and though she was so enamored with his world, so obsessed with tasting it, she would never be part of it. To him, that was a good thing. Zala had a softer side, even if she didn't want anyone to see it, and to indulge in his lifestyle would obliterate that. No, better she leave the hunt to him, and at the end of it, she could have the trophy. He stared back out the window.
Veruna woke up an hour later, and slowly opened her eyes. Drakken wasn't in bed. Typical. She groaned as she sat up, and stretched. Zala looked about the bedroom, but the man was nowhere to be seen. She climbed out of bed, feeling the coolness of the tile through her thin, silk stockings, and she wandered into the next room. Tharcourt sat in the small living room, papers strewn upon the table, some pinned there by a blaster pistol. He sat on the couch, staring at the ceiling, clicking a pen in his hand. She cleared her throat.
"Babe…ahem…what are you doing?" She asked. He looked over, and she caught a resolute look in his eyes.
"I was thinking about his operations…" Drakken said. "…and how we hit him last night. He's going to feel it for sure, but we need to flush him, to draw him out into the open, and I think time is really of the essence right now."
"How long have you been up?" Zala asked softly, and poured herself a cup of caf.
"About an hour or so. I've been trying to strategize." He returned. She took a sip of the caf, and her red-brown eyes shot open as she almost spat it out. Zala made a sour face and choked it down.
"Ugh…damn, Drakken…this stuff is like paint thinner!"
"Yeah…we drink it that strong in the field." He said. "You get used to it."
"As if…" She muttered. "So, what have you come up with, oh great General Drakken?" He scoffed.
"Well…it's a risky move, but if we start today, and hit a few more of his places through the day and into the night, it'll definitely force him to come after us with everything he's got left. Then, you and me lure him into a proper kill-zone with clear fields of fire and minimal civilian risk. We'll wound the snake enough to get to the head." Zala stared at him a moment, then took another painful sip of the caf. "When it comes around to bite us."
"I would say you're suicidal, but…that's just totally you, baby." She commented. He chuckled. "You want to make us targets, then let him try to kill us, huh? That's the master plan?" He shrugged. "You do know I can call up some reinforcements. In three hours, I can have the two supervisors under me, and like, ten field agents here. Hell, I can get a platoon of Death Troopers if you want."
"And what will Latoure do when he sees that many troops?" Drakken shot back. He lit a cigarra. "Man's not stupid. Remember, he knows what you know, Zala. He knows what kind of resources you can get, and he'll be expecting that. He'll probably have scouts and spotters watching, observing, reporting in. We show up with an army, he's going to refuse the field. He'll probably leave off-world, and we'll be in a sling then. It's like I told you…" He jabbed his cigarra toward her for emphasis. "You don't win a war like this with resources. You win it by being a better fighter. Smarter…more imaginative."
"But…"
"He's gonna get us on the run, and we're the ones that are going to hole up. Two people against his little gang. He'll think he has us dead to rights." Drakken interrupted. He sneered. "I've done it before." Zala slowly sat down next him on the couch.
"Done what, Sweetie?" She softly queried, starting to wonder if he were cracking somehow. Tharcourt stared blankly ahead.
"It was winter." Drakken began. "Six of us hit a Sep supply ship with a rocket launcher attack as soon as it landed. We ran off into the woods. Thirty minutes later, we shot up a checkpoint. Middle of the day. They sent a platoon after us. We ran into the wilderness, following an old trail. We were easy to track, Zala…and we made sure of it. Footprints everywhere, discarded gear, the works. They had us dead to rights in a valley…until the rest of us…all twenty of us caught them in a crossfire from concealed positions. We wiped out the whole platoon in less than a minute." He violently mashed out the cigarra after taking a final drag. "When your enemy thinks they have you by the tail, that's when you turn around and bite his kriffing hand off."
"Drakken…geez…" Veruna sighed.
"What?" He returned in a distracted tone, looking over a few pages of what looked to Zala like nothing but numbers and random words.
"Nothing, Sweetie…" She whispered. Veruna watched him for a moment as he looked over his notations and strange formulas. Finally, he crumpled the papers in his hands and tossed them onto the table.
"Zala, can you get on the line with your people, and have them try and find his big businesses?"
"Like, what are you talking about?"
"We hit his warehouses and his club, but we need to find something bigger. Get ISB to do their thing on those prisoners and see if any of them know where he keeps his money, and where he keeps his private ship. Somebody has to know." Veruna cocked her head slightly. "Trust me."
"Alright…yeah, I totally believe that you know what you're doing." She nodded, standing up. "I'll send it up the pipe." He raised his eyebrows at her. "Right now?" She asked, tying her silky robe around her waist.
"No time like yesterday." He shrugged. Drakken stood from the sofa, and Zala walked to the doorway, then turned and watched as he picked up his blaster pistol. He spun it, first forward, then backwards. He gave it another fast spin forward, then stopped it and held the weapon up as if examining it closely. He rested his forehead against the butt of the blaster, his eyes closed, and she saw his lips move as he uttered something in silence. Then, the spell seemed broken, and almost too fast for her to track, Drakken flipped the blaster backwards, and rolled it grip-out before plunging the muzzle into the holster, rolling it as it entered, and locking it into place. Zala frowned and left the room to contact ISB
Veruna shut off the communication pad. Supervisor Grath was on his way to the ISB holding cell to question the prisoners about the specific information Tharcourt wanted. She had no doubts that if it was locked inside the mens' minds, Grath would get it out. He was good at making suspect divulge things without them even being aware of it, then using it to get more. She liked the man's style. It was so…insidiously unintrusive. She leaned back on the bed, and stared at the ceiling. Drakken was much different now than when he had arrived at her apartment. He seemed broodier and more distant. Her education in psychology told her that he was becoming super-focused on his skillset, jettisoning everything he didn't need to complete the mission.
She had seen him like this before, on the cameras. He had annihilated a room full of training droids the day after Thorne was injured. Then there was the time where, according to reports, he had gone through a rebel base, executing surrendered enemy personnel. It was like when he found himself in a hopeless situation, or he was introduced to some terrible thing he didn't want to face, Tharcourt would turn into some guided missile of death and destruction, laying waste to any enemy he could find with an almost superhuman resolve and focus. Veruna felt a little fear creep into her psyche; fear of what the man was about to do, and fear of whether or not she could keep up with him when he did it.
"Are you about ready?" Drakken asked from the doorway, shaking Zala from her reverie. She rolled up to her feet.
"I called central. My people are going to get on it." She answered. Veruna walked up to Drakken and placed a hand on his chest. "Listen…Drakken…"
"Yeah?"
"I know we're about to go totally thermal on Latoure and his operation…" She began, and put an arm around him, placing her head on his chest. "Just tell me that if we make it through this thing alive, you'll come back?"
"Come…back?" He asked, confused.
"Yeah babe…you're in like, kind of a place right now. It's how I know you're gonna rip and tear through his whole army…but when it's over, come back." Drakken paused a moment, then put his arms around the diminutive woman.
"I don't know what the Hell you mean by me being in a place…" He said softly, "…but I do plan on winning this thing. This is my world, my natural habitat he's playing in, and he has no idea about the food chain." Veruna furrowed her eyebrows.
"Your world?" She asked. "Coruscant?"
"No…" Drakken answered. "War." She scoffed and pulled away. Zala stood on her tiptoes and gave Drakken a kiss on the lips.
"When the war is over then…let's have some R and R, huh?" She commented. He smiled just a little.
"Yeah. We can do that, Kitten." He said with a nod. "Now, gonna get dressed, or do you plan on killing bad guys in your nightie?" She rolled her eyes and gave an unguarded giggle.
"I mean, I totally could." She said, and did a graceful spin. "I've done it before. Nothing like the power of seduction to distract your enemy." She added with a playful narrowing of her eyes, then turned and started for the refresher.
"Mm. I cede that to you. Could've killed me last night." Tharcourt returned. She turned back and grinned.
"Oh…I know." She stated, then backed into the refresher to change.
They sped along in their stolen ship, Drakken piloting while Veruna repainted her nails. Tharcourt had said the plan had changed. Now they were trying to attract Latoure's attention. She had changed into her rarely-worn ISB field uniform. She wore a dark grey tunic with a lighter grey front flap, dark grey trousers, customized for her to be almost skin-tight, and a small chest plate and pauldrons of thin durasteel. Her very un-regulation black boots were knee-high, but with tall, thin heels. Also not by-the-book was her pastel pink lipstick and black eyeliner. Veruna cast a glance at Drakken as he steered the ship through the Coruscant traffic.
He was now wearing black cargo pants with his tall boots, a black, high-collared shirt, and some kind of black leather combat suspension system he had dug from the crates of weapons. The belt was bedecked with his twin blasters, spare power cells, a vibroknife, and assorted combat gear. The handle of another knife protruded from his right boot, and along with a long, black coat, he had donned his officer's cap and gloves, turning the whole ensemble into some form of strange, roguish uniform.
"You look amazing." She commented. He raised an eyebrow. "For real. You have this whole militarized spectre of death thing going on. It's kind of a turn…"
"Oh for kriff's sake…" He interrupted, and she let out a laugh. "You hear back from your team yet?"
"Not yet. These things take some time." She said. "But they'll call in as soon as they crack the prisoners." She looked out the windscreen for a moment. "Are we going back to the warehouse?" Drakken made an evil sneer.
"A dog always returns to its vomit." He muttered.
"Ew…okay…" Zala said back. "So why are we doing this?"
"So he can see us."
"Oh, right. We're being suicidal."
"Zala." He growled. He sat the ship down just short of the warehouse, and climbed out. Veruna hopped out, and hastened to catch up with Drakken as he walked briskly toward the building. He stopped at the door, and turned, looking about the street around them. Zala stood beside him and scanned the buildings nearby.
"Think he's watching?" She asked.
"Latoure, no. But somebody is." He continued to scrutinize the dimly-lit street, his eyes creeping up the edifice of every building until he found what he was looking for. "Uh-huh. Eleven o'clock. The window above the red sign." He stated. Veruna squinted toward the window, and for a moment, she caught the barest glimpse of a twinkle, a small reflection.
"Who and what?" She asked, all of her demeanor now illuminating the experience that had gotten her to the rank of Major.
"Nothing serious…" Drakken replied. "Just a guy with a sniper up there, watching us." Zala's hand began to slowly and instinctively reach for the blaster on her right hip, but he stopped her. "No. Stand down." He whispered. "If he was going to kill us, he would have by now. It's a good sign. Latoure wants to be there in person when it happens. Heh. Predictable bastard."
"What do we do now then?" She asked. Drakken smiled, and pulled a folded up durasheet from his pocket.
"We send him a message." Tharcourt said, holding up the note. He tucked it underneath the front door. "And now we go. Let's grab some chow while we wait, huh?" He added with a cheerful tone. Drakken started back toward the ship, and threw up his hand in a friendly wave toward the window of the apartment across the street. They climbed back into the cockpit of the small ship, and Veruna propped a foot up on the console.
"And what exactly did this message of yours say, sweetie?" She inquired. He started the engine and smirked.
"I just let him know that we're coming for him last…after we've taken apart his operation bit-by-bit." Commander Tharcourt explained. "And I left him with a question to ponder over."
"Which was…"
"Oh, I said 'How does it feel to be outmatched by someone more intelligent than you', and drew a smiling face." He scoffed. "Now this is where the fun begins."
"You…are one scary piece of work, you know that, babe?" Zala sighed. "By the void…I'm glad you're on our side." Drakken paused, his hand on the thrusters. He shot her a sly grin.
"And what side is that?" He shot back.
They sat in the small diner, picking at their lunch. They ignored the strange looks they received from the other patrons in the eatery, and both were quiet. The gravity of what they were about to do was at the forefront of their minds, though it nagged at Veruna more than it did Tharcourt. She still felt out of place, utilizing methods that were almost alien to her, and operating outside of what she was trained to do. Drakken was an asymmetrical warfare expert, and he was carrying out this mission the way he knew best. She had to admit though; it was working. Not only that, but it was a thrilling ride. Maybe one that she wouldn't live to see the end of, but she always kind of figured that her job would get her killed sooner or later anyway. At least it would be with him…
"Hey…Major Veruuuna…" Drakken called softly. Zala snapped back into the present.
"Yo, what?" She said, blinking. Drakken smirked.
"You were staring holes in the air, and your datapad's beeping." He stated. She looked down at her device.
"Oh…damnit…" She mumbled, and touched the screen. "Give me something good."
"I will give you something better ma'am." A male voice on the other end answered. "Secure?"
"Myself and an ImpSpecFor Commander with level…"
"Five." Tharcourt said with an unenthusiastic wave of his hand.
"Yes, level five, Grath."
"Oh yes ma'am, I know who he is." Supervisor Grath returned. "I trust you're keeping him out of trouble, ma'am?"
"Oh not at all, supervisor." Veruna grinned. "I'm just letting him get into trouble with our enemies for now."
"It must be a terrible day to be them." Grath said cynically. "You may want to keep him away from explosives. It's getting harder to keep the Coruscant Police Force out of this with random buildings detonating every fifteen minutes." Zala looked back up at Drakken, and he shrugged.
"What can I say? He's a unique person." Veruna joked. "Now, what do you have?"
"Well, that pawnbroker whose shop tragically burned down? We leaned on him a little, and he gave us a name. Trolwit Gr'aen. Said he was an expert on transmutating credits down there. He's on level 1310. He's…known to us, but he has been removed from the list." Drakken shot Zala a curious glance, but she looked away quickly.
"Good. We'll be sure to pay him a visit." She said.
"And another thing, ma'am." Grath continued. "I showed one of the prisoners the new eighty-millimeter blade I just put on my IT-0. He liked it so much that he sang a ballad about his life of treason and lawlessness. Latoure has a Sorosub Luxury Yacht, and he keeps it at a private landing pad on level five-oh-oh-one."
"Very interesting…" Veruna mused out-loud.
"Would you like us to put eyes on it, ma'am?" Grath asked.
"No." Drakken spoke. "Can you ISB people do me a big favor?"
"What would that be, Commander?" The ISB Supervisor inquired.
"Can you make something terrible happen to that ship?" Tharcourt proposed. "An accident, you know. Maybe a fuel leak resulted in the destruction of that yacht, and whoever was on it…"
"Ma'am?"
"Make it happen." Veruna stated.
"Understood. And when will this ship meet with its unhappy fate?"
"Have that dangerous fuel leak just waiting to cause an accident. Wait until we give the signal, then light it up."
"I will get people on it right away." The ISB agent spoke over the device. "Anything else you need from my end at the moment, ma'am?"
"Commander Tharcourt?" Veruna prompted.
"Hm. Yeah…any way you guys can get me some hardware?" He asked. "If possible, I'd like to request a few…rather strange weapons." There was a momentary silence on the other end, then Grath spoke up again.
"Uh…yes, it looks like that is authorized for this assignment." He answered. "Do you have an itemized list prepared?"
"No, not necessary." Drakken responded. "I need an E-Web heavy repeating blaster with an auto-targeting computer…a rocket launcher, a few old droid-popper grenades, a case of incendiary grenades with remote detonation, and a storefront mannequin, male…with a black wig if you can find it."
"Uhhh…" The confused ISB supervisor sounded.
"I know, Grath…" Veruna sighed. "I've learned not to ask."
"Yes ma'am. We will get all of those items to storage location Bravo-four-seven within three hours."
"Thank you." Zala returned. "And good work, Grath. You're as dependable as you are cute in your uniform." There was a reserved chuckle over the pad.
"Ah…I appreciate that, ma'am." Grath said. "Good luck with your mission."
"We'll need it." Zala returned. "Veruna out." She shut off the device and looked at Drakken. He raised his eyebrows.
"Well…ready to go back into the breech, Kitten?" He asked. She smiled playfully and made her cat-like hand gesture.
"Rawr."
Drakken stopped the ship down the street from the building the bookmaker was supposed to operate out of. The sign above the door advertised the front as a droid repair shop. It was a terrible ruse, being situated in a place where most people struggled to make money to eat on. It was highly unlikely anyone for five levels could afford a droid. They stepped out of the small freighter and walked along the sidewalk. People pressed themselves against buildings and stepped into alleyways to distance themselves from the figures moving down the street. To them, an ISB agent in field gear, carrying a DLT-19 was intimidating enough. Seeing Tharcourt beside her in his getup, looking like some deadly mercenary or bounty hunter, gave them the motivation to find a safer place to be. The two stopped at the front door of the business.
"How are we doing this?" Zala breathed.
"Like a rancor." He answered, then threw open the door and walked in. The two men behind the counter looked up at the pair, and froze. Drakken shifted his eyes between them. He threw his long coat open, revealing his arsenal, and his hands hovered over his blasters. "Morning. The boss in?"
"In…in the…the b…back." One of the men stammered. Tharcourt looked at the metal hatch at the back of the shop. It looked a little too fancy for a cut-rate repair shop.
"The code."
"Four-six-four-seven." The other man said quickly, his hands raised.
"Like your job?" Drakken asked.
"Nope." The first man answered.
"Good. Get gone." Tharcourt ordered. The two cronies raced each other through the doors. Drakken and Zala walked past the counter, and she typed in the code. The hatch whooshed open, and they stepped into the next room.
It was a large space, probably some kind of storage room in a former life. Twelve desks sat in two parallel rows, forming a wide path down the center. The human, rodian and twi'lek women at the desks sorted stacks of credits and papers, as three armed men at the back of the room stood watch. All of them stopped working and froze, beholding the two trespassers into their illegal operation. Drakken assumed a solid stance, and as before, threw back his coat, his hands over his weapons. Veruna moved a few meters to his right, her large blaster rifle raised at her hip. For a moment, there was a deafening silence.
"Anyone want to go peacefully?" Commander Tharcourt asked innocently. The guards immediately raised their weapons. Drakken drew his blasters and downed one of the thugs before he could get a shot off. The others began shooting wildly. Veruna fired a fusillade in the direction of the gunmen, killing another with two hits to the chest. Drakken took his time with his shots, and his third blaster bolt struck the third man in the head. The women counting the credits ran from the room as three more guards rushed in from the back. By now, Drakken was walking calmly up the aisle of desks, firing one blaster then the other. A gunman burst through a side door and fired at Veruna. She tripped and fell on her back, but unloaded ten rounds into the doorway, literally lighting up her assailant. She stood and looked around. The room was once again quiet.
Tharcourt nodded with his head, and they continued through to the next room, their weapons held at ready. Inside the narrow room was a series of cages built into the wall, each containing stacks of Imperial credits, along with various shapes and sizes of coins Tharcourt didn't recognize. A devaronian with a blaster pistol barged through the door to his left, and Drakken spun about, firing both of his blasters seven times into the hulking figure. The devaronian guard fell to the floor, revealing a portly human man in the doorway.
"N…no, no. Don't shoot." The man cried. "Wh…ISB?! What are you…this is a sanctioned enterprise!"
"Not anymore." Veruna stated darkly. "You've been like, dealing with some unsavory customers, Gr'aen. You know the law; doing business with seditionists is an act of treason to the Empire." Tharcourt lowered his blasters, confused at what Veruna was talking about.
"You…you here to arrest me?" Gr'aen asked shakily.
"Among other things…" Drakken mumbled. "We want all the credits belonging to Latoure, and we want them now." The pudgy man just stood there shaking for a moment.
"He…he'll kill me." He said. Zala growled irritably, and leaned her rifle against the wall. She tromped over to Gr'aen, drew her RK-3 blaster pistol and shoved it into the man's chest. She grabbed him by the lapels of his white shirt, and began dragging him down the corridor.
"Fat bastard, I'll kill you…" She countered angrily. "I'll just enjoy it better!" She forced him against one of the cages. "Which one is Latoure's?" Zala leaned in close, the muzzle of her blaster pressing into Gr'aen's chest. "Little puffer-pig, wonk wonk wonk…why don't you squeal for me?" He jabbed a trembling finger toward the next cage.
"Here…here…all of it. It's in this one…" The money-launderer confessed. Drakken holstered his blasters and picked a large bag from a hook on the wall.
"Get to bagging." He ordered. "Then you're going to call Latoure, and tell him that his money is gone."
With Gr'aen cuffed in the back of their ship, Drakken walked out onto the edge of the sidewalk. Below was level after level of the filthy city. He peered down into the dimly-lit ecumenopolis, then returned to the six huge bags of credits on the walkway. Zala tossed her blaster rifle into the ship and joined him, looking down at the seized currency. There was at least three million in credits in the bags, and Drakken was staring at it like he was revolted.
"So…" She began. "…we going to turn this in or what?" His eyes slowly raised to hers, and he gave a nod to the negative.
"Want to see how to make a real difference, Zala?" He asked sadly. He looked to his right. A human woman was walking by, her clothes little more than rags. A dirty boy of no more than six scampered along beside her. "Hey." Drakken called. "Lady!" She turned around, and looked frightened by the ISB agent and soldier before her. "You want a nice dinner?"
"Wh…what?" She stammered. Drakken reached into one of the bags, and grabbed two handfuls of credits. He reached them out to her.
"Go ahead. They were seized in evidence. Nobody's using them." He assured the woman. She stepped forward and cautiously took the credits, pouring them into a well-worn bag. "Get the kid some nice toys too, huh?"
"I will…oh, I will!" The mother cried out. "Thank you, sir!" A blue-skinned twi'lek man walked over, curious as to what was going on. Drakken turned to him.
"What do you do for a living?" He asked the newcomer. The twi'lek shrugged.
"I take in junk metal for scrap." He answered. Tharcourt held out two more handfuls of credits.
"Well, here's some metal, and you don't even have to junk it." The alien man's eyes lit up as he grabbed the money.
"Oh kriff! This is real!" He exclaimed. "You're crazy, man…but you're okay in my book!" By now a crowd had started to form, and Veruna leaned up against the ship and rolled her red-brown eyes.
"Here's yours…and yours…" Drakken said, giving over piles of the coins to people in the crowd. "You know what?" He stood up and kicked the bags over, spilling their contents onto the sidewalk. "Don't shove. You people take what you need and start a better life. It's all on the Empire, huh?" He took a final bag, and emptied it over the edge of the sidewalk, raining credits down on sentients for three levels. He climbed into the cockpit of the ship, a mass of humans and aliens crying out for him to be the new emperor. Zala sat in the co-pilot's seat and closed her hatch.
"Drakken…baby…" She pinched the bridge of her nose. She took a deep breath. "Okay…chill out, Zala…deep breaths." She calmly inhaled through her nose a few times, then turned to Drakken. "Okay…I'm not going to arrest you…because I'm totally into you…for whatever reason…" Tharcourt suppressed a smirk. "Why…why did you just give a solid three mil in evidence to a bunch of street rats?"
"They needed it more than the Empire." Drakken stated softly. "Tell me it wasn't the right thing to do." Zala made a hissing sound as she sucked in a breath.
"Ugh…you are totally killing me, sweetie." She groaned. "That was amazingly sweet and majorly illegal and…" She sighed. "Like, why am I so attracted to a man who is going to get me hung for treason?"
"Who said I'm a traitor?" Tharcourt shrugged. He pulled the ship away from the building. "I think I just did a great deed for the Empire, helping the poor like that. Palpatine should give me a promotion."
"Yeah, a promotion to the spice mines of Kessel…" Zala said dryly.
"Well before I go, you mind telling your men to make a ship go boom?" He replied with a small grin.
"With pleasure."
Drakken is in the zone, isn't he? War is his playground, and he sure has his own way of doing things. It looks like he and Veruna are closing in on their prey now, and we leave them preparing for a final battle with the rogue ISB officer. How will they take down the crime lord and his entire operation? And will Drakken and Zala be more than just allies? Tune in next time for another riveting installment of Imperials! Until then my friends...Cheerio!