An end and a Beginning (Jace)

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Blood.

The bullet struck Sierra near the shoulder, knocking her backwards. The few surviving guards raised their pistols and fired. One. Two. Three. Her armor blocked the brunt of the blows, but not all.

Hotel's shot had taken her by surprise. She wouldn't have done that without orders. Orders from the facilities. That must have been why they had required such a high level of supervision for this mission. They must have noticed something was wrong. Was it her increased reluctance on the constant post mission head-checks in the medbay? Maybe they knew about the diary. Others had disappeared from the facility. Was she going to disappear now too?

She had never been emotional. They were something she never really experienced in full. So she was unprepared for the flood that suddenly hit her. Panic.

Only one thing to do. Run.

The rest was a blur. The guard raised his gun again. The window. Shattering glass. Wind rushing past her.

Freefall.

She grabbed at a branch below to break her fall, nearly dislocating her shoulder in the process, and lowered herself to the ground. Blood was dripping from the wound in her shoulder, staining the ground red. The few first aid supplies that she had in her belt pouch she quickly used, and a strip of cloth torn from her clothing made a makeshift tourniquet.

She was losing strength. She could feel her vision becoming fuzzy. She ran, no stumbled, her way away from the scene of the crime, not just from the local authorities, but from Hotel, Romeo, whoever else who might try to find her.

She didn't know what was wrong with her. It was as if something in her head had just... snapped. She had been one of the twenty-six, engineered and raised to be the best assassins that the galaxy had ever seen. But right now she was just a scared little girl.

A scared little girl who was slowly bleeding to death.

She stumbled into an alleyway, drained and lightheaded. Leaning against wall of the walls for support, she felt her knees suddenly give way and she collapsed.

[Jace]

He felt slightly out of place in the city, or rather he hadn't been here for quite some time. The smuggler tended to avoid the Core like so many others, because it tended to bring trouble. Security was always tighter in the Core planets, especially considering the current climate. That being said, every once in awhile there was a job, and it paid good. Ocelot wasn't in dire need of credits, but he wanted to keep working, and Core runs were always lively to say the least.

Ocelot had already delivered what he needed to, and was heading back to his place. The risky stuff was already over, so he would relax this night before heading out tomorrow. The Core was also a good place to relax, one tended to avoid some very unsavory characters. Smuggling and the odd mercenary job was a dangerous business, you didn't always make friends. As he walked through the streets he suddenly slowed to a stop and looked down.

Blood.

There were thick drops on the street, and he looked ahead to see if they continued. If they were on the Rim planets, he wouldn't have really given it so much credence, but he wasn't. Ocelot cautiously followed the trail until it finally ended, or rather turned off from the main street. He looked to his right down the dark dimly lit alley, and waited for a full thirty seconds. Ocelot was sure of it, he heard breathing, though rather faint.

His hand reached into his jacket, and he drew his revolver. He wasn't about to take any chances. Slowly and methodically he continued into the alleyway until finally stopping where the blood trail ended. Ocelot stood and looked down at the barely conscious boy...no girl, and only felt pity. His better sense told him to just walk away, but not after what he had seen on Balosar. He couldn't just leave the girl here to bleed out and die. She would've have been dead already if it basic first aid hadn't been applied to the wound.

Replacing his revolver back in its holster, Ocelot bent down and picked up the girl. It was rather late and his apartment wasn't too far away. Thus the smuggler walked out of the alleyway and headed back to his place. Luckily for him, tonight was especially quiet and he made it back to the apartment without incident. He laid the girl gently down on the couch and stepped back, taking a moment to consider how to proceed. Ocelot knew only basic first aid himself and so he dialed a number on his comlink.

"I need a favor" was all he said once the other had finally picked up.

It was an unreasonable time, but these people got paid well in both credits and assistance when they required it.

The knock on the door came twenty minutes later and Ocelot led a short, pudgy man into the room. The smuggler had known the former doctor for some time now, an old acquaintance of his father. His price was a little steep but he didn't ask questions and was good at what he did. He merely studied the girl before him, asked Ocelot to move her on to the dining table and then leave the rest to him.

Ocelot wasn't exactly sure how long had passed by, but probably a couple hours. The doctor had taken care of the bullet and dressed the wound. The girl was now back on the couch, and the smuggler was sitting in a chair looking out the window. He just hoped she came to before whoever shot her tried to track her down. They weren't that far away from where he had found her, if anyone was looking for her, they could easily find her trail. There wasn't anything else to do now but wait.

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Sierra's head felt dizzy, strange. What had just happened? She must have hit her her head hard somewhere during that fall. She could remember that much. She could remember bandaging her wounds and running through the streets until collapsing from exhaustion...

That was it.

The rest? It was hazy, full of holes, insubstantial. She tried to concentrate, but felt it slipping away from her, like trying to scoop fog with her hands. She winced as her head was hit by a sudden jolt of pain.

Her eyes shot open.

She was on a couch in some strange room. A short, pudgy man sat in a chair nearby. There were some bloodstains on his apron. A tall, grizzled man with a gray beard, long coat and an eyepatch stood a bit further away, looking out a window. Where was she?

Her right arm had been wrapped in bandages, especially around the shoulder. She tried to push herself up into more of a sitting postion with her left arm, but her muscles felt wobbly with no strength in them, and she collapsed back down.

[Jace]

Ocelot hadn't done much over the last few hours other than stand and check on the girl. He had thought once about just leaving her there now that she was fixed up but didn't consider it any further. There was something about her that he quite couldn't explain, something dangerous. One didn't get far in his line of work if you couldn't read people but with this one he couldn't be sure. He might just be getting paranoid in his old age.

The smuggler heard movement which pulled him out of his reverie. Turning from the window he walked over to the couch as the girl sat up and then collapsed back down on the couch again. No doubt she was still weak from the blood loss, and lack of movement over the last hours. Ocelot walked over to the sink and got a glass of water. He made his way back to the couch and handed it to the girl.

"You lost a good amount of blood, try not to move too much."There was a momentary pause "You don't need to tell me who you are, and why you were slumped half dead in an alley but there is something I do need to know..." started Ocelot and then paused for a moment.

"Should I be expecting someone to come looking for you?"

The meaning of his words were clear, and the answer would be rather important. If she was just some girl who got shot during a mugging, chances are she was safe for now. On the other hand, if she was involved in something more complicated then that, they didn't have much time. She needed to rest but Ocelot needed to know the answer as soon as possible so he could decided how to proceed. He still got the feeling that he was in for an unpleasant surprise sooner or later, and his hand subconsciously drifted toward the holster strapped to his shoulder. A bullet or two tended to deal with unpleasantness quite effectively.

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Her throat was parched, a result of having lost so much blood, so she took the glass from the gruff-looking man without hesitation and drank the water quickly.

She put a hand on her forehead. Her shoulder still stung, and she still had a terrible headache. At least there was no fever. There was a low rumbling sound, coming from her stomach. She had lost a lot of energy. When was the last time she had eaten?

As the man began talking, she sat there, face expressionless, large brown eyes unblinking. There was a long period of silence as he finished, as the two simply stared at each other. Suddenly, she blinked, as if realizing for the first time that she had been asked a question.

Sierra. My name is Sierra, she thought to herself. But that wasn't what he was asking. As for his real question...

"I... I don't know," she mumbled. She really didn't. She remembered the shot. The impact. The fall. But who had pulled the trigger? She shook her head, as if trying to knock some memory loose. She knew it was in there somewhere.

A flash of color and an image formed in her mind. A memory. A young woman with black hair, her age, wearing a form-fitting catsuit, holding a long-barreled rifle. Very dangerous. A man, large and unshaven, who appeared to possess much more brawn than brains, but nonetheless, dangerous as well. She felt as if she should have known those two. No, she did know those two. Their names seemed on the tip of her tongue, just out of reach. But whatever they were...

Her eyes widened. Her voice took on a sense of urgency.

"We need to go. Now. Away from here. Far, far away."

[Jace]

Ocelot couldn't help but feel bad for the girl as she stared back at him. He could tell that she was confused, maybe even worse than that. It almost seemed like she had trouble remembering her name. The old smuggler waited patiently for an answer. He had never heard of amnesia from a gunshot wound but he wasn't a doctor. Then suddenly came an expression of recognition followed by what Ocelot could only describe as panic.

"We need to go. Now. Away from here. Far, far away."

There was an urgency in her voice that Ocelot couldn't ignore. Still he couldn't be sure if it wasn't just some unrelated memory or fear of something that was long past. Still, Ocelot went over to the window and looked outside carefully. There were a few people on the street, it was still quite early in the morning. Nothing seemed out of place but that didn't really mean anything.

He went back over to the couch and studied the girl once again, a thoughtful look on his face.

"Well I suppose we can get something to eat outside" stated Ocelot

"We won't be going anywhere if you can't walk though, don't think I'll be carrying you again"

Though his voice had been gruff, it still wasn't devoid of care. This girl had been shot and by the looks of it, didn't even know by who. All the better, because if she did, Ocelot might have had to extend his stay on Empress Teta a little longer.

"Alright, let's go" said Ocelot as he extended his hand to her to help her up.

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She nodded and took his hand. Her legs felt a bit wobbly as she stood up, almost no strength in them at all, and she nearly fell over at first. She held onto his arm tightly for support as they started walking.

"Wait, I need to get my stuff!" Her belt of tools hung from a hook on the wall, along with her bloodstained coat. Reaching for the belt, she draped it over her shoulder. She left the coat.

[Jace]

They were out the door a little over twelve hours after they had first arrived. The girl had insisted on bringing her tools suggesting they held some measure of important to her. She was still very weak and thus Ocelot had to act as her support as they exited the apartment complex. Ocelot knew she needed something to eat and also a good deal more rest than what she had already had. She was insistent on leaving though, so there wasn't much he could do.

The smuggler stopped just before the exit of the apartment complex. He eyed the street and then stepped out slowly, scanning for any threats. The apartment itself was slightly out of the way so Ocelot wasn't surprised to see the street still rather quiet even though it was close to midday. The spaceport was not far away from here, hence the reason he had chosen the location.

"Its only a short walk to one of the main streets and then we can grab a cab"

A few minutes later, the pair reached one of the more busy areas and Ocelot hailed a cab. Ocelot's was still wary and continued to study their surroundings. Empress Teta wasn't a complete cesspool like planets such as Balosar. This made it much easier to spot thugs and those with not so friendly intentions. Of course if true professionals were after them, then that whole point was completely nullified. He had dangerously limited information at this point, and he didn't like it.

"So, what's your name?Unless you prefer being called 'girl' all the time" inquired Ocelot as the cab sped towards the spaceport.

Eventually they reached the spaceport and Ocelot suddenly didn't like what he was seeing. Though the spaceport was crowded which usually meant safety, he felt as though something was off. His hand casually drifted to his shoulder holster but fell back to his side moments later. It was going to be a little tricky getting this girl off planet on such short notice but he had been in the smuggling business for a long time. Something told him he should get off planet as soon as possible, Ocelot sent a casual glance towards the girl to see if she had sensed something too.

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"Sierra. My name is Sierra," she answer. She noticed him anxiously studying their surroundings. The images flashed through her head again, of the woman with the sniper rifle, and scruffy-looking man.

"She won't be in the crowd," she said slowly. "She'll be on one of the buildings, with her rifle. Find shelter, cut off line of sight. Or keep moving. Movement throws off her aim."

"He tries to look like a bum. But the way he moves is far too deliberate and deadly. He wears a thick brown cloak. Look for the noticeable bulges underneath the fabric where he keeps his shotguns."

No, they weren't here right now. She knew those two, knew the telltale signs that would indicate their presence in the area. That was a good thing, as she was still weak-kneed from her wounds and blood loss. And he couldn't exactly fight with her leaning on his arm like that.