nitemare shape

Star Wars: Legacies (Always Open)

Collabs are coming along well. Also have a couple of solo posts in the works

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

San Diego, California

Chrissy Jones made her way down Niagara Avenue towards the Ocean Beach Pier. Though she was still new to the West Coast, she had never felt more at home in her life. Shortly after the Hounds of Humanity had destroyed her shop in Crown Ridge, she picked up the pieces and took what little savings she had, and jumped on a bus out West.

She had rented a motel room by the week with the savings she had, and after a couple of days of getting settled she had begun searching for work. Though she couldn't find anything that really suited her, she had applied to be a waitress at a busy seafood restaurant down near the pier called Capt's. When she met the owner of the place, a middle aged Samoan named JuJu, who was probably the happiest person that she had ever met, and had a propensity for wearing extremely loud Hawaiian shirts, she knew that she had found the right place. Apparently, JuJu had felt the same way, as he hired her on the spot and asked if she could start the next day.

Almost immediately, Chrissy found that she loved her job. For the most part, and with few exceptions, the customers were great. Capt's clientele mostly consisted of tourists, as well as a good number of regulars, who not only came for the food, but for the establishment's well stocked bar. She also found that her coworkers were all very close, and they were more like a family than just simply people that worked together. JuJu treated the staff like his kids, except for Mike the book keeper, who was old enough to be JuJu's father. She had also bonded with one of the hostesses, a young blonde woman in her mid twenties named Stephanie. So much so, that when Stephanie's roommate suddenly moved out, she had asked Chrissy if she would be interested in taking the now vacant room in her apartment, which of course she did, as she couldn't wait to get away from the semi sleazy motel which she'd been calling home for the last few weeks.

For the first time since she'd crash landed in the Lost Haven harbor and been found by the person who would become her very first friend on this planet, Chrissy finally felt that she was home. Which was an odd feeling in and of itself, since she had never really known a home, not in the sense that most humans would relate to, at any rate.

From the day that she had been born, she had been raised to be a part of the Arlaaekan war machine. The Arlaaekans had once been a peaceful species, until a neighboring civilization forced them to flee their homeworld in massive starships before it was destroyed. Eventually, one Arlaaekan, unlike any other who had come before him, a being of immense power had risen through the ranks and became the unquestioned ruler of the newly nomadic species. Under his authoritarian leadership, the Arlaaekans became a militaristic species, developing new technologies and developing new methods for subjugating entire civilizations.

Under the man who had become known only as The Autocrat, the Arlaaekans went from world to world, stripping the planets of their natural resources and exterminating the native inhabitants. Thousands of worlds had come to feel the might of the Arlaaekans, some fought back, but eventually, all of them had fallen.

When she was a young girl, her father took notice of her special talents. According to him, her gifts would make her the second Arlaaekan, behind the Autocrat himself to be born with special abilities. Her father had been one of the Autocrat's most trusted generals, however, when he had learned of his daughters power, he wanted nothing more than to hide her from him. Yet, his devotion to the dictator had been so absolute that those initial thoughts quickly faded from his mind. He no longer thought of her as his daughter, rather he saw her as a tool for the vast Arlaaekan empire to exploit. She was simply a weapon for her, just another weapon of war.

However, she refused to be used as a weapon.

So she sneaked out of her chambers and had her way to one of the ship's hyperspace equipped escape pods, and without saying a word, left everything that she had known, and everyone that she had loved behind.

When the pod crash landed in the Lost Haven harbor, she didn't know where she was, or how long she had been in the pod. She just knew that she was free. Eventually, she found herself in Crown Ridge where she was working as a sort of psychic healer, using her empathic abilities to read her customers in a way that seemed supernatural. Not long after that, she found herself forced to work with the heroes of her new homeworld to fight against the Hounds of Humanity, who had proven to be a true threat to anyone that appeared “different.” Yet, after the Hounds had been defeated, she found that she simply wanted to live her life in peace, for as long as she would be allowed, and she hoped against hope that she would never be forced to use her abilities against an enemy as ruthless as the Hounds of Humanity, or even her own people, ever again.

Star Wars: Legacies (Always Open)

Alright, so I lost power due to a major tropical storm for a few days. My power is back on and I'll be getting posts up shortly

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

Black soles moved with purpose. Beating the dark concrete as steam rose from manhole covers and drains. Just as all seemed its darkest as they beat a trail into the thick of a city, there was a sudden explosion of light, which gave proof to the destination...

THE HUB

Isaac Fontaine was dressed in a crisp long-sleeved, button-up office shirt and black pants with a set of dress shoes. An outfit designed with the paradoxical outlook of a man looking like he was trying to stand out, who in the process looked just like any other. Looking over the crowd he saw that his choice of wardrobe had been on point for that objective. About 80-90% of the men in this place were dressed similarly. Looking to blow off steam after work, or distracting themselves from the insanity of the world which existed outside of the night club’s walls.

Isaac slipped between the crowd and finally sidled up to the bar; a television set – rendered mute by the cacophonous mix piped into every ear by the DJ – rested above the bartender’s head on the back wall as he went from customer to customer, taking drink orders and cash in a frenzy whilst dispensing cold booze. The tv was on some local news channel, a recent shooting at a private company's press conference. He could tell as much even without the sound, just from the bright visuals. A young woman standing next to Isaac turned away from her friends and looked him up and down. Isaac cursed at himself inside his own head and tried to focus on the television, even though it really had nothing of interest.

The press conference was the unveiling of a new initiative. One designed to provide housing for the homeless. Why is it that these were the types of people who always seemed to wind up in the firing line? "Hey! We'd like to better the lives of the poorest amongst us--" Bang!!! Fucking high-powered sniper shot to the goddamn head. Fortunately it hadn't been her head, but the intent was clear. Typical. Depressingly typical. Still... he personally knew there were good people on the case. Hell, he'd come to see one right here tonight.

“HI!” The young woman yelled, louder than she’d intended and in an ear-ringingly high pitch – even moreso than the music. Isaac turned and offered a smile so full of courtesy that it had no room for warmth. “BUY ME A DRINK AND LET’S SEE WHERE THE NIGHT TAKES US!”

So much for low profile… Still wincing from the tone of her voice, he used it to offer a crestfallen expression. “I don’t really have time to hang around… but…” Isaac signalled the bartender, and gestured an invisible line down the bar for the girl and her friends. The bartender nodded and set to work making duplicates of their drinks. “…so, I’ll have to raincheck.”

“Now I REALLY have to make sure my name doesn’t leak in this place.” Isaac thought to himself.

The bartender brought the last drink over, and then turned and addressed Isaac. “And what are you having?”

“Gimme three… Cape Capes? What’s that like?”

“Ah! It’s a micro-brew. Small independent craft brewers around here make it. ‘Cape’ as in the geographical feature and ‘Capes’ beca—“

“Yeah… yeah I get it. Alright, give us three of those...” Isaac said reaching for his wallet.

“Can’t. State law. No more than two drinks per person.”

“They’re not all mine.” Isaac lied. “My friends are over there on the other side of the dance floor, fighting through the people trying to find a table.”

“Have you got I.D.?”

“You’re kidding me…” Isaac was in his late 20s and due to his own chosen past time had a weathered face that looked more likely to be in his 30s. The bartender didn’t budge or crack a smile. Isaac scowled.

Isaac reached in and pulled out a card. The bartender inspected it and handed it back.

“…and when your friends show me their I.D. THEN they can get THEIR drinks.”

Isaac’s eye twitched ever so slightly and involuntarily.

“Fine. Give. Me. Two. Cape. Capes.” He said in an ice-cold, stilted fashion that could have cool his own beer from between the most gritted of teeth.

“What about your other friend?” the bartender asked, smiling wryly.

“Fuck him.” Isaac pulled a bunch of wrinkled bills down and - slapping them down on the counter, rather than in the bartender's hand - covered his own and the drinks for the girls. He crossed the dance floor with his two bottles, muttering under his breath.

“We live in a city where people are flying around, where the gates of Hell opened up and demons poured out, and where wizards and witches can stir THEIR brews with impunity and I’M the arsehole for wanting more than two brews of my own…”

* * * * *

Scott stood at the DJ booth watching as DJ Starchylde spun his tracks as few in Lost Haven, or the entire East Coast for that matter, could. Normally, the Queens of Nowhere would be playing a set on this night, but with the recent attack on Alexa and the ever present threat to his family and friends, Scott talked Clara and Keira into postponing their performances until after the entire situation with Alexa's attempted assassination had been resolved. Of course, he felt guilty for not telling them the entire truth, however, he felt that the less they knew, the better.

The fact that Scott had been able to find so little information on whoever it was that was targeting him was maddening. He had swallowed his pride and went to both Arthur and Lyger for help, and neither had been able to turn up much in the means of useful information. However, Lyger did say that he knew a guy who might be able to help, and he would be sending him a copy of the note, and seemed hopeful that perhaps this “Old Man” as Lyger had referred to him, would be able to help. However, Scott seemed less than optimistic about how much help this person would actually be.

He was just glad that Alexa's physical wounds were healing. Truth be told, her electric powers had a strange side effect. They supercharged her body's biometrics, and enhanced her body's natural healing process, giving her a bit of an enhanced healing factor. Due to this, she was already mostly healed from the assassin's bullet. She no longer needed a sling, which she still wore as to not raise questions about her injuries. In fact, she was ready to get out on the streets and turn the city upside down looking for whoever it was that had attacked the press conference and killed so many of her associates. However, he had been able to talk her down, and convinced her that she should lay low for the time being.

“What's on your mind, Bro?” Eric had yelled from behind him as he approached the DJ booth, patting Scott on the shoulder as he took his place next to him.

“Oh, you know, the usual.” Scott shouted back over the music as he looked out at the crowd from the DJ booth. The Hub was packed, which was good. Not only had the nightclub bounced back in the aftermath of the violent Hounds attack, but it seemed to be going stronger than ever. Not only did the club's successful return mean that both he and Eric would have incomes to live on, but it also provided Scott with a distraction from his current woes.

Isaac found a table after circling around a few times. There were precious few, encouraging more people to get up and dance. Isaac however wanted little more than to sit in the dark with his own thoughts.

He considered this yet another metaphor for the clear differences between the pair of them.

The big blue, bold hero comfortable in his own skin… and the man in black in the shadows. Planning, plotting and shrouding himself in mystery. He patted his chest pocket to make sure the photograph was still there. Isaac took another swig and started peeling the label. Glaring across the room at him, but entirely consumed with his own thoughts. What he was going to say.

He was standing on the DJ station talking with his friend between mixes. Eric Dean was his name. Joint owners. Friends. Partners.

Another swig. More label. Still glaring.

When he turned, Isaac never flinched away. Kept glaring. And began tapping the bottle with his finger.

As Scott looked around the dance floor, something, or rather, someone caught his attention. Sitting across the dance floor at one of Scott's favorite tables, he found a man that he didn't recognize staring at him. He looked for a moment to see if perhaps the man looked away, or perhaps for something to jog his memory if he had somehow met this person and had simply forgotten.

While there was something familiar about the man's body language, a sharp smuggness that seemed somewhat familiar, Scott simply could not place the man, who was maintaining eye contact, and had nodded at him slightly as he began tapping the bottle with his finger. Whoever this man was certainly seemed to know Scott and was making it plainly obvious that he had something to say. Without saying a word to Eric, Scott left the DJ booth and made his way across the dance floor to the mystery man's table.

As he approached the table, Scott kept firm eye contact with the man. He wondered to himself if perhaps this was the man who had tried to send him a message by attempting to assassinate Alexa. Then he noticed something. A small detail that told him exactly who this man was. He noticed the man's knuckle on the finger that he used to tap on his beer bottle. The knuckle was mangled, an injury that he had received some months earlier while fighting side by side with Icon.

This man was the black clad crime fighter known as Vigilante, and that revelation did not make Scott feel any more at ease. Every time that he had encountered Vigilante, it was unnerving. The masked man had always hinted that he knew who Scott was, and seemed to have something that he wanted to talk to him about. However, it was almost like it was a game to him, as he never came out with exactly what it was that he wanted to say. Instead, it was more suggestions and innuendo. It was as if Vigilante had been toying with him, and enjoyed whatever game it was that he was playing.

“You know, I'm starting to get sick of people playing games with my personal life. What do you want, Vigilante?” Scott said, more of a statement than a question.

Isaac twitched slightly at the word 'Vigilante', before furtive glances to any nearby made it clear that the bar was far too loud, and everybody seemed far too busy enjoying their nights, for anyone to have caught his nom de guerre. He gathered himself, sullenly stuck his tongue deep on his cheek and kicked out the chair opposite, to make room for the larger superhero to sit.

"You sound something like how I feel." He finally spoke up in considered response, once again glaring at his fellow hero. "I'm a little surprised you'd accuse me of playing games, when I'm willing to come here with THIS face..."

Icon looked down at the empty seat.

"I figured you'd know me well enough to know I wouldn't be here if I didn't have to be. Even if you barely know me at all."

"But considering the week you've had, I guess I'll ignore the attitude." Isaac nodded to the chair, whilst making it a point to not ignore the attitude.

Scott pulled the chair out and took a seat across from Vigilante. He sat for a moment in silence as he sized up the man sitting across from him. With everything that has been going on, Scott didn't know that he could trust this man, although he has always stepped up to help out when he was needed, Vigilante seemed to know too much about everything, and never stuck around long enough to make his intentions clear. The fact of the matter was, Scott didn't know whether Vigilante was a hero, or if he was playing a long con of some sort.

“Sorry.” Scott said after a moment. “It's just that you seem to know a lot about me, and I know absolutely nothing about you...and with somebody out there sending assassins after my loved ones, I've just run out of patience for playing guessing games. What is it that you want?”

"I am here because..." Isaac squirmed awkwardly in his seat, grimacing and looking at the people around. "It is difficult for me to say, but I--" He sighed out a low growl and finally spat it out between gritted teeth.

"I. Could use. Your help." He leaned back, not making eye contact and putting the beer bottle to his lips.

Scott was taken off guard by Vigilante's admission. Of all the things that he had anticipated coming out of this man's mouth, a plea for help was not one of them. Scott still didn't trust this man, at least not yet. He closed his eyes for a moment and concentrated on Vigilante. He focused on the man sitting across from him, drowning out all of the other noise in the club, and kept his attention solely on him. He listened to the man's heart rate, which remained remarkably steady. There was no indication that he was lying, though that didn't necessarily mean that he was telling the truth either. Though, he was not sure that this man could be trusted, he decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“I see.” Scott said as he looked the man in the eyes. “What's going on?”

Isaac reached towards his chest pocket for the photograph, before hesitating and instead crossing his arms over his chest.

"You're right. I'm the guest here... coming in, glaring at you from the corner and dumping my problem on you. Given the current circumstances its a bit of a dick move. I've heard she's at least on the mend. What leads have you got on yours so far?" He bluntly changed tack to more comfortable ground, as he hated asking for help. "Then I'll show you mine after."

Scott was surprised by the sudden change of topic, however, he decided to just go with it. So he told Vigilante about what had happened that day, about the multiple angles that the shots had come from, about the hooded figure in the window, and about the note. He had memorized the contents of the note itself, and was able to recite it verbatim. When he began to describe the image of the stylized eye that was left on the note, he was suddenly interrupted.

"I'm gonna stop you there. Gotta pen?" Isaac laid the beer label flat on the table, and took the pen. "This eye... did it look something like this? Or This?"

He drew a rough sketch of two different types of similar eyes with a few rudimentary lines. Then looked at his bare fingers, and considering his prints said "I'm keeping this." As he pocketed the pen.

Scott looked closely at the two images that Vigilante had just drawn. After several moments, he pointed at one of them.

“It's not perfect, but it definitely looks like this one.” Scott said as he recalled the image which had been burned into his brain since the day of the shooting. “Yeah, this looks like the one.”

"One of these is the Eye of Ra, the other is the Eye of Horus. Don't ask me which is which, I can't remember. I'm not an Egyptologist and it's been years since I've been there and saw these... but it sounds like you've got yourself some clowns with a hard-on for Egyptian mythology."

“So, what does that mean?” Scott asked, not entirely following Vigilante's explanation.

"Well, I'm not an Egyptologist... like I said." His eyes wandered, not wanting to meet with those of the hero seated opposite. "But the Eye of Ra represents the feminine counterpart - the feminine aspect - of Ra. You know... their head honcho of gods. And by the feminine aspect, I mean... picture an angry broody mother hen. But with ultimate power. Basically the violent aspect of the all powerful sun itself. Pissed off, all-powerful violent wrath."

Scott listened as Vigilante went on, and he honestly didn't like what he was hearing. If Vigilante was correct, then he knew that Alexa, nor anyone that he loved would be safe, possibly ever.

“Well, that sounds pleasant.” Scott said, his tone carried a distinct hint of gallows humor.

"Well, actually, yeah. Bad news is I kind of hit you with the pleasant part first." He started tearing the label off the second beer. "If it's the Eye of Horus... Well, myth goes that Horus' eye can only be taken by the most evil of things. The way their lore goes, Horus' eye was torn out by Set - a jackal-looking god who was the personification of evil, darkness, chaos, the desolate wastes of the desert itself... pretty much everything negative you could really imagine an Egyptian attributing to something. Good news I suppose is, there's few people its more satisfying to punch in the face than those who actually self-identify as evil. So I guess there's that... but..."

Isaac leaned forward, his voice barely above a whisper.

"The Eye of Horus has mathematical connections. Was used to represent various basic fractions pivotal to understanding the fundamentals of the world they saw around them. For a people who lean as much into symbolism and metaphor, there's an allusion to inevitability in there. A constant. Anyway... when Horus had his eye torn out, the myth goes he offered it to Osiris - his father - looking to restore his life."

"So, like I said, I'm no Egyptologist. But if it's the Eye of Horus... It could just be cult idiots who want to say they're a bunch of badasses. Or it could mean 'sacrifice'." Isaac looked at Scott with genuine concern. "And if they've marked Alexa for sacrifice... even if she pulled through, that might just mean they're going to make another attempt.

“That's a problem.” Scott admitted. “But the bigger problem is that they're ghosts. I can't find any trace of them anywhere. I went to Iron Knight, hoping that with his STRIKE contacts he might be able to find something. He wasn't. The only thing I could find was that the same symbol started popping up in Crown Ridge. Lyger's looking into it on his end, but he hasn't found anything yet either. I'm about at my wit's end, I don't know where else to look.” Scott said, the frustration that he felt becoming all the more obvious with each word.

The Vigilante winced noticeably at the mention of S.T.R.I.K.E. "Yeeeah, nah. I wouldn't be asking the Tin Man's happy family." He said rhythmically tapping the bottle again, looking away whilst thinking of options for a few seconds.

Scott took note of the man's visible reaction to the mention of STRIKE, and wanted to ask him about it, but decided not to just before the words escaped his lips. He didn't know what Vigilante's issue with STRIKE was, however, it wasn't important at the moment. Maybe he would ask him another time. However, he couldn't let it go completely.

"Maybe hold off on Crown Ridge until you get some kind of idea who you're dealing with. If the symbol's been more prevalent that may be the source. And if it's the source, they may think you're trailing them before you really have enough information to do anything about them. They think you're tailing them they're going to apply pressure the best way they know how. That would mean her."

Scott looked down at the table after Vigilante had finished. He knew that the man was right, that if he went directly after whoever these people were without knowing more about them, he would be at a distinct disadvantage. He only knew that they were in Crown Ridge, he didn't know WHERE in Crown Ridge. However, they knew exactly where he was, and more importantly, where Alexa was. It wasn't something that he was willing to risk.

"That's what you'd do?" He asked.

"Me? Hell no." He said with an unsettling laugh. "I'd probably go charging in head first like an idiot, beating information out of people as I go, get myself shot in the process and then spend the rest of my time making every single one of the pricks regret having shot me in the first place... But then, I think you could probably aim a little higher than what I'd do."

"So, what would you suggest I do? I can't just let these guys run free. But you're right, I can't go after them when I don't know who they are." Scott finally said dejectedly.

He took another swig, and scratched the back of his neck.

"So maybe try West." He suggested. "There's a bunch of cape and cowl types out at Pacific Point. History based guys. Call themselves Immortals. They've got at least one Greek guy... An Egyptian guy. Calls himself the Son of Osiris. Whether it's Ra or Horus, he'd have answers. Either way it's family. Plus, interesting thing about the Egyptians, they saw magic in names and language. Their whole language was pictographic - hieroglyphs. You take him your note, maybe he can even get you a line on exactly where it came from."

"I've heard of them. They do good work.-" Scott said before a brief pause. "-You really think they can help?"

The man shrugged. "Don't know. Don't know them like I know you. Never worked with them before. I just make it my business to at least try and know all the big players at least a little." He returned to peeling the label before looking up again.

"But you know how it is. There's generally some kind of code of at least common courtesy between us types. I doubt they'd tell you to take a hike."

"Don't know them like I know you." The words burned in Scott's psyche for a moment. This man did seem to know him. Not just his secret identity, which was concerning enough, but this man, whoever he was, seemed far too comfortable with him, like they were old friends. And the man had practically said as much during one of their previous encounters. In fact, every time that he had crossed paths with Vigilante, he had hinted at some sort of past relationship between the two; which Scott found quite puzzling, because he had never seen this man before in his life. He found it somewhat unnerving, and he intended to find out exactly what kind of game this man seemed to be playing. Though he got the sense that this man truly meant him no harm, he still found the entire situation uncomfortable.

However, despite his misgivings the man had proven himself a worthy ally, showing up during each major crisis that the heroes had faced up to this point, from D-Day to the meta domes, to the Hounds of Humanity. And here he was again, helping Scott with his own personal crisis. If anything, Scott felt that he should trust this man, even if he found it difficult to do so, because somehow, he knew that Vigilante wasn't being completely honest with him.

"Look.-" Scott said as he reached into his front shirt pocket, producing a business card and placing it on the table, before sliding it across to Vigilante. "You've been there when we've needed you. I don't know you-" He paused for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. "-but I think that I can trust you. You may have heard that we're putting together a team, the media is calling us 'The Guardians.' We'd love it if you'd be a part of it." He asked earnestly.

Isaac reared back away from the table as if it was on fire. He dug his own head into his shoulder and lifted his forearm up to the card.

"That-- That is not going to work for me." He muffled through his shirt, whilst pointing at the card and gesturing for his cohort to remove the card. "He made those, yes? Tin-Man? God knows what's in there. Almost certainly GPS. Radio transmitter? Nano-tech camera or voice receiver? Yeah, no..." Scott picked up the card again, glancing at the flimsy plastic with some thought before pocketing it again.

The other man, slowly started to relax more as the card was removed from line of sight.

"This is a man who could plausibly connect that network to voice and facial recognition software with less effort than it takes you or I to check our email. That is not going to work for me. The team, fine. But that? No. That's not going to happen. I'll give you a way to get in touch with me. There's a reason this whole thing you're going through right now is happening to you and never to me...no offense." Isaac said, whilst being deeply offensive.

"Oh... That reminds me--" He dug into his chest pocket for the photograph. "--the whole reason I came. I've been running further investigation after the whole Pax Metahumana thing. Loose ends... bother me. And whilst I was looking for leads to track down that mimic/power stealer Effigy I managed to pull this image of an associate who was helping Doctor Diplodoc and his merry band of nutcases - I think he supplied them with components to make their metahuman bomb." He passed the photograph across the table. "The old man in the hat. Can you recognize him? I'm sure I've seen him before but I just can't place him anywhere."

Scott looked at the photograph that Vigilante had handed him. He had been under the impression that they had caught all of Dr Diplodoc's associates back during the crisis, which now seemed to have taken place so long ago. However, the possibility that one or more may have gone undetected was not out of the realm of possibility. So he looked intently at the photo, which did show an old man in a hat, however, he didn't know what Vigilante expected him to find in a blurry photo.

"I don't know. The picture is too blurry. I can't make him out." Scott said apologetically as he handed his contemporary back the photograph.

"You're kidding me?!" The other man hissed, leaning forward. "You can pick out a window cleaner falling off his perch from 10,000 feet, but you can't see--" He stopped abruptly, before letting out a singular snort of a chuckle. The gears were turning. He smiled and returned the photograph to his pocket. "--that's OK. I think I might actually be able to take this one from here..."

Scott looked at the man as he tucked the blurry photograph away. Clearly, the fact that he couldn't help identify the old man in the picture had given the Vigilante another angle to work from. Though he didn't know what that particular angle might be, he was glad that he could help him reach whatever conclusion that he had come to. This man, this...Vigilante always was working the angles. He always seemed to be one step ahead of everyone else, and he knew things.

Things that he shouldn't know. If this new partnership was going to work, he needed some answers. Scott drew a long, slow breath and looked down at the table for a moment, before raising his eyes to meet Vigilante's.

"How is it...-" Scott said trying to choose his next words carefully, then deciding to just come right out and ask. "-that you know so much about me? You act like we're old friends, dropping hints here and there that we've known each other, that we have some sort of past. But we don't. I don't know you, so why is it, that you seem to know everything about me?"

“Mmm…” The Vigilante mumbled, having rocked back to take a gulp of his beer. “Ah! That’s a sticky one. I mean, I could tell you, but there’s no way to corroborate my story at all, so you’d just have to chalk it up to blind faith, regardless.” He lifted the beer back up to his mouth and with no small measure of surprise, saw that the other man was still awaiting an answer.

“I suppose you have always been more open to things like that than me, though.” He sighed, he put the beer back down and looked from table to table again casually to once again check for eavesdroppers, before leaning forward.

“The truth is… I don’t know you. I know a version of you from a parallel – well, almost parallel – universe where I knew you for quite some time. It wasn’t EXACTLY you. There were a few cosmetic differences, for instance I don’t know why but your surname’s different here. Your hair is… slightly off-putting, if I’m being honest. But for the most part, as best as I can tell, you’re mostly you. In fact, I think that was the point…”

“So yeah, cards on the table, I’m from an alternate Earth.”

Scott sat there for a moment as he processed what Vigilante had just told him. Though he wasn't entirely sure if the man was telling him the truth, or it was just another one of his games, it was, to his knowledge the most candid answer he was likely to get from him. And as far as Scott was concerned, although he had no way of knowing if the man was being straight with him or not, he really had no reason not to believe him, and as crazy as it sounded, he kind of felt that Vigilante was telling the truth.

"Well, that's not the craziest thing I've heard this week." Scott said. "So, where do we go from here?"

"Mmm..." He murmured. "This crazy world we live in." He drank again.

"Well, I'm going to chase down this." He tapped his chest pocket where the photo rested. "And you've got your own West Coast lead to chase down now as well. But then--"

He sighed deeply. It was a lie though. He felt far more comfortable giving help than asking for it.

"--then I guess I can try and see if I can dig into this thing you're going through as well. Maybe find some answers. But that might take a while. I'm spinning a lot of plates at once at the moment. It's hard enough living a double life... I'm stuck with three and a scumbag alternate self... But yeah, I'll dig into this. As for the Guardians. You'll hear from me again, we'll find a system. We did before."

Star Wars: Legacies (Always Open)

Breia's home was just a short speeder ride from the Mos Espa space port. It sat in the desert not too far from the city, facing both Beggar's Canyon and the Northern Dune Sea to the Northeast. The homestead itself was a modest adobe style dwelling which sat on the backdrop of a seemingly endless desert. There was nothing else for miles, the only evidence of civilization in site was the shimmering, mirage like visage of Mos Espa in the distance.

From the moment they set foot on the desert world, Joren would have liked to have been anywhere but there. It was much to hot for his liking, and he much preferred the permacrete streets of the city to the dusty, sandy roadways of of this backwater world.

However, as he stood outside of Breia's home as the twin suns set on the desert, and the various purples, blues, oranges, and reds washed across the sands of Tatooine creating a kaleidoscope of colors in the moments before darkness fell, Joren was able to appreciate the raw beauty that could be found on the barren world.

He took his eyes away from the setting suns and looked to his left to Kelsa, who seemed to be transfixed on the dual sunset, however, her thoughts were not on the splendor of the natural spectacle before them, her thoughts dwelled in darkness, in loss. Joren knew that her thoughts were on her father, who's death she had yet to be able to mourn. Joren wanted more than anything to say something, he felt that he needed to say something. However, he did not know what it was that he could say to help her. He couldn't take away her pain, he knew that. He also knew what it was like to lose a parent. In fact, he had lost both of his. His father when he was a child, and then a number of years later his mother had disappeared while tracking a bounty out near Ord Mantell. It was that loss which gave him the understanding that there was absolutely nothing that he could say to make things right. That right now, in this moment, there were no words that he could offer that would lessen the weight of the loss that she was feeling. So instead, he put his arm over her shoulder and pulled her in closer to him, and said nothing.

After what seemed like an eternity, Kelsa looked up at him. Her expression was pained, like she wanted nothing more than to unleash her emotions and yell, and scream, and cry. Though, she was afraid. She was afraid that if she started, she would never be able to stop. Her father had been her whole world. He had always done his best to be sure that she had the things that he hadn't had growing up. He had loved her dearly, and doted on her all of her life.

And now he was gone. And she never got the chance to say goodbye.

“Do you know the last thing I ever said to him?-” She asked, finally breaking the silence. “-I told him I hated him. I wanted a new custom speeder, and said he wouldn't get it for me. We got into a fight, and the last thing I ever told my father was that I hated him.” She said as she began sobbing.

“Hey, that doesn't matter kiddo.” He said, shushing her as he tightened his hold on her. “Your dad knew exactly how you felt about him. He knew how much you loved him, and he loved you. He might not have always told you, but he sure as hell showed you. Everything he did was for you. Don't ever forget that.” Joren told her.

“Joren, I told him I hated him. By the stars, I was so stupid. I wish I could take it back. I wish I could take it all back.” She said with tears streaming down her face.

“We all have things that we wish we could do over. But that's just not how life works. Don't let one little fight define how you remember your father. He was a good man who always did right by you. You were his world, his everything. He knew how much you loved him, that's what's important.” Joren told her as the twin suns seemingly dipped down below the dunes of the distant desert.

Looking to the ground, Kelsa leaned against him as she put her arm around his waist. Looking at the ground, she gave a slight nod and they slowly began walking, arms linked, back to Breia's home. As the list light of day faded into night, Joren paused for a moment, looking back out over the vast desert, once again getting the distinct feeling that somewhere close by, someone is watching.

Star Wars: Legacies (Always Open)

great posts everyone. Like I said in the Discord, I have a post in the works that I can actually do some work on now that I replaced my AC (it was over 100 degrees in my room last night, so hot I couldn't concentrate enough to write). I'll be getting that up soon.

Star Wars: Legacies (Always Open)

Working on some stuff now. If not up tonight, definitely sometime this weekend (my weekend starts Saturday night and goes through Monday)

Star Wars: Legacies (Always Open)

I've got some posts in the works. They'll be up sometime this week

Star Wars: Legacies (Always Open)

Coruscant

Soon after Kava's fleet had dropped out of hyperspace above Coruscant, the sensors aboard the Lazarus had detected a flurry of activity in the city planet below. There had been significant troop movements around the Imperial Palace, where Koren Ozzell had taken up residence following the Emperor's death. Of course, the panic that she could almost feel emanating from the city planet was mostly for nothing, after all, Admiral Kava had come to offer her hand in friendship to the leadership of the Grand Imperium.

For thousands of years, Coruscant served as the seat of power in the galaxy. It was the center of the Empire, as well as the Republic which had preceded it. Kava knew the rebels, as well as much of the galaxy at large to be a sentimental lot, and as such, it was only a matter of time before they made a play at taking Coruscant, and she could not allow that to happen. For if the rebels were to take the Imperial capitol, the Empire would quickly lose its grip on the systems that it still did control, and eventually would die.

And Kava would rather die than to see that happen. So in order to preserve the Empire that she served, she would do anything, including enter into an alliance with a weak fool like Ozzell. At one time, Koren Ozzell had been the standard by which other Imperial commanders had aspired to emulate. He had been a brilliant tactician and commanded respect from his subordinates, and more importantly, their undying loyalty. So it was only natural that in the wake of the Emperor's death, that he be the one to take the reigns of what remained of the Empire and forge it into something new, the Grand Imperium.

Unfortunately, as the leader of the Imperium, he became too much of a politician. He lost the edge that had made him a great warrior. Instead of bending the galaxy to his will, he instead made concessions to the rebels, even recognizing the terrorists as a legitimate government. He pandered and placated the so called “New Republic” so much so that they themselves began to believe that they were in control of the galaxy.

Fools. She thought to herself as she looked out of the window of the command deck at the massive city planet below.

“Admiral, we're being hailed by the Imperium Palace.” Captain Bryce informed her as he approached from behind, stopping short and standing at attention as he awaited her instruction.

“Very good.-” Kava grinned as she turned to face the captain. “-Bring them up on the holodisplay. We should greet our new friends.” She said slightly sarcastically.

She had met Koren Ozzell several times during her service to the Empire. He had always struck her as a gifted commander, someone who had ways to motivate his subordinates, yet, she found herself utterly disappointed in his apparent sense of contentment. He was happy to sit on his throne on Coruscant while the rest of the galaxy descended into chaos. He had no real desire to reclaim the territory that the rebels had stolen from the Empire, and that infuriated Kava. However, she had no intention of deposing him. For all of his faults, he was still useful. The truth was, that Kava did not presently have any desire to be the public face of the Empire, and she would leave that role to Ozzell, at least for now.

She stood before the holodisplay as it activated, revealing a man in a pristine Imperium uniform staring back at her. He was a tall man, well over six feet tall with tightly cropped black hair and an impeccably trimmed beard. Though she did not know this man who's image stood before her, she assumed he was one of Ozzell's underlings.

“Super Star Destroyer Lazarus, what brings you to Coruscant?” The man asked shortly. Kava had heard reports from her people embedded within the Imperium that Ozzell and his staff were somewhat paranoid, and she could see by this man's response to her very presence that these reports were true. In order to get what she wanted, she would need to assuage the paranoia of the Imperium High Command.

“I am Lez'Kava'Layro of the Galactic Empire, however, you may call me Admiral Kava. I am here to speak with Lord Ozzell.” Kava coldly.

“One moment, Admiral Kava.-” The bearded man responded as he punched information into the datapad in his hands. “-Your credentials check out. You have permission to land, I'm transmitting the coordinates to you now.”

“Very well, officer.” Kava replied coolly. Though the man's demeanor had annoyed the Admiral, she did not show her aggravation. However, as she studied the man in the holodisplay, she could see that he seemed to be slightly shaken. And while most might not notice it, to Kava it was abundantly clear that something seemed to be worrying the officer, and it was not just the sudden arrival of her fleet. “Kava out.” she said as the holodisplay went dark as the transmission was terminated.

“Captain Bryce, prepare my shuttle and gather the landing party. Beeone, you're with me.” She said to the hulking KX security droid who stood silently behind her. “We're going home.” She said after a momentary pause, a smile creasing her lips.

“Yes Mistress, right away.” the droid replied as it followed the Admiral away from the bridge.

Star Wars: Legacies (Always Open)

Shortly after the Twilight Dreams touched down just outside of Mos Espa, Joren took his first steps off of the ship's boarding ramp and onto the sandy surface of Tatooine and was surprised by the scorching heat that greeted him. Although he had known that the desert planet was hot, he had not anticipated just how hot the planet truly was. As he led the others away from the ship, which they had landed on the outskirts of the city to avoid any attention being drawn to themselves, they decided to head into the spaceport to try and figure out exactly what it was that they were doing, and what their next move was.

Initially, Dono and Kelsa had been against coming to Tatooine. They both had argued that leaving one Hutt controlled world for another was not the best idea, and Joren could see their point. However, he had argued that it wasn't the Hutts that had chased them off of Nar Shaddaa, it was the Kath Hounds and the Empire, neither of which existed on Tatooine.

However, the truth was that Joren didn't know why he had suggested that they come to this planet. And even if he did, he didn't know that he could explain it to his friends. He wondered just how he could tell them that a voice had called out to him through the vastness of space and beckoned him to come. Though it hadn't been a voice that had called to him, had been more like a feeling. He knew that it sounded crazy and he couldn't explain it.

“So, where are we going?” Kelsa finally spoke up, breaking the silence.

“Mos Espa spaceport, it's what passes for a capitol city around these parts. Keep your heads down and try not to bring attention to yourselves-” Dono said without breaking stride. “-This place can be rough.”

“So, we should feel right at home.” Nyna said as they continued toward the spaceport, which appeared to shimmer before them in the heat.

Once inside the spaceport, they walked down the sandy streets passing numerous adobe style buildings and found themselves in an outdoor market place. They passed by the citizens of Mos Espa, many of whom had rough and weathered skin due to years of exposure to the desert elements and the twin suns, as well as numerous beings of various species who were mingling throughout the marketplace. Up ahead of them was a food stand which had a variety of what looked to be relatively freshly killed creatures strapped up on display, and while the critters didn't look all that appealing, the smell from the stand certainly was. The crew continued past the food stand a little ways and found themselves in front of a small eatery. The establishment, called Akim's Munch was a small diner with a number of tables inside, and several more outside around the side of the building. Used to watching his surroundings, Joren took note of the patrons that were sitting at the outside tables. There were several Weequay scattered among the tables as well as a few Bith. However, the one character that stood out was a lone Mon Calamari. The sight of the aquatic creature sitting alone at a diner on the desert planet struck Joren as ironic, if not outright odd. However, as strange as it was, Joren was just about to suggest they stop for a bite to eat when something else caught his attention.

Not far from the diner a group of Rodians had surrounded a young woman. Joren watched as the woman tried to get away from the reptile like aliens, only to be pushed back. There seemed to be a heated exchange by the young woman, who appeared to be about the same age as Joren and the others, and the Rodians, though Joren couldn't tell exactly what was being said.

“No, don't even think about it.” Nyna said as Joren began drifting toward the confrontation.

“We can't not do something.” Joren replied as he took another step towards the woman and her “friends.” Though Nyna knew that a public confrontation would draw attention to them, potentially even the attention of a Hutt who had connections to the crime lords of Nar Shaddaa, she also knew that Joren was right. Who knew what the Rodians wanted with the girl, and Nyna nor her friends were capable of standing by while they did whatever it was they had in mind for this girl.

“So much for keeping a low profile.” Nyna said as she followed Joren and Dono as they began walking towards the source of the confrontation. Joren and Nyna led the way as Dono and Kelsa followed close behind them.

“Hey, back off slagchucker!” Nyna exclaimed toward the Rodians as one of them shoved the slender young woman. The sudden outburst caused the Rodian thugs to turn their attention away from the young woman and to the intruders.

“Mind your business.” One of the Rodians said in broken basic as he stepped aggressively towards Nyna and Joren.

“Hey, no need for that friend. Take it easy.-” Joren said as he put his hands up toward the group of aliens with his palms facing forward. “-Now, let the girl go and we'll be on our way.”

“No, she has to pay for what she did. Now you leave or you pay too!” Another of the Rodians spoke up as Dono made his presence known, drawing a blaster.

“Sorry.-” Dono said as he came to a stop before the Rodians. “That's not going to happen.” He finished as he pointed his blaster at the Rodian who appeared to be in charge.

The Rodian reached for his blaster, however, before he could Dono fired to blast bolts into his chest. As the Rodian stumbled back and began to fall, one of the others rushed toward Nyna brandishing a durasteel club. He swung the club before anyone had a chance to react, hitting her in the head and knocking her to the ground.

“Nyna!” Joren shouted as he raised his blaster and opened fire on the Rodian with the club, hitting him several times in the upper arms and chest.

As the melee began, Kelsa ran toward the young woman who had been the target of the Rodians' ire and grabbed her and led her out of harm's way as Joren and Dono fought off the remaining Rodians. The fire fight was over before it really began. When the dust had settled, the six Rodians lay sprawled out in the street.

Joren holstered his weapon and made his way over to where Nyna lay. He bent down and slowly helped her up. Though her head was pounding and she was a little unsteady on her feet, she seemed to be alright. Joren was helping Nyna try to steady herself, the young woman who had been been the subject of the Rodians' ire approached.

“We should really get going.” The young woman said as she reached them.

“Probably a good idea. Who knows what we just stirred up.” Joren agreed.

“My place is just outside of town. It's just a short walk from here.” She told them.

“That's alright, our ship is on the outskirts of the city.” Dono said as Nyna stumbled a bit as Joren still held on to her, keeping her upright. The young woman watched as Nyna struggled on her feet and then shook her head at the Mandalorian.

“Those guys that you took out.-” She said motioning to the dead Rodians that littered the roadway. “-They're debt collectors for Sladoba the Hutt. He won't be happy when word gets out that you slaughtered his guys, and from the way that word travels around here, I'd say he's probably learning about this whole fiasco right about now. So, you can take your chances and head all the way back to your ship with someone who can barely walk straight, or you can come with me.”

Dono was about to raise an objection, however, Kelsa spoke up before he had the chance.

“She's right.” Kelsa said.

“Kelsa, we don't know her.” Dono said.

“And she.-” She said pointing emphatically at Nyna. “-can't walk straight. Let's go with...” She paused as she shifted her gaze to the young blonde woman.

“Breia.” she said.

“Breia to her place, get Nyna some time to rest, and we can get back to the Dreams tomorrow.”

“Not a bad idea.” Joren said as he turned to regard Breia. “I'm Joren, this is Nyna, Dono, and you've met Kelsa.” He said as he pointed to each of his friends.

“Nice to meet you all, now we should go.” Breia said as she led the others away from the scene of the shootout.

As they began walking toward the edge of town, Joren stopped short. There was something there with them on this world, something that felt dark, cold. It was something that Joren had never felt before, and if truth be told, he hoped to never feel again.

“You okay Vod'ika?” Dono called to him.

“Yeah...yeah, I'm coming.” Joren said as he rejoined his friends. However, he couldn't shake the feeling that something, or someone, was watching them.