Vice Versa

[D A N T E]

Dante crashed through floor, steel and piping bending and shattering as his body was propelled through it. Breaking through to the floor. As he tried to crawl out, a pair of giant hands gripped his throat, lifting his body out of the hole and suspending him in the air, his feet dangling as they hung a good three feet off the ground.

"You no need pay, boss says you do bad job."

The large mans voice was slow and incoherent. The Galactic Basic was horrible, and the man tried his best to put the words together correctly.

Dante, hanging by his throat, lifted one of his boot up, and slammed it into the fat gut of the man. A ripple waved from the impact across his three hundred pound stomach, and traveled to his back. The man didn't flinch. He wore nothing but a pair of nasty grey shorts and lace-less shoes. The rest was just his grimy light skin, covered in old sweat and dirt. His hair was patched, and a nasty brown color.

"Tickled."

Dante's grimace turned into a smirk, his pale skin cold to the touch as his bare chest flexed, and armored left hand lifting to point at the man's head. Suddenly there was a pulse from his finger tip, sending a wave of force into the trashy man. The man himself didn't budge, but his head was knocked back with a crack, like a hundred kilo log had just been smashed into his skull. The man's nose immediately started bleeding from both nostrils, his eyes watering as he tried to regain his bearing from the blow.

"Let me down, before I'm the last thing you ever hold."

The fat man was furious. Without saying a word, he clinched his hand on his throat, attempting to strangle him with all his strength, his other hand clasping to help.

Dante was growing tired of this nuisance, and before the grip could hinder his wind pipe, there was a wisp and a hum as his crimson lightsaber opened up, twirling in front of him and slicing the mans arms off with grace at the elbows. There was no blood, the heat cauterizing the wounds immediately, the heavy severed limbs dropping to the floor with a loud thud.

"Tell your boss, he better have my money before I get back."

With that, Dante closed his lightsaber and stepped outside into the slums of Coruscant, taking in a breath of the smoky air as he rounded a corner, moving into the busy street filled with homeless and drug users as they past by.

[Kuhblam]

"Sith bastards, man. I'm telling you, they're gonna kill us all if the Jedi don't get fully involved. Stupid warrior monks and their damned peace codes."

The holo-screen above the bar and men of various species drinking their lives away displayed a battle with Sith regulars assaulting a fortified Republic position. Blaster fire raged across the screen in any myriad number of directions, and the camera focused in a Sith repulsor tank blowing apart a turret emplacement. Slowly, the Sith troopers made their way up the hill under withering fire before completely overwhelming what remained of the Republic's troopers. A single armored Sith warrior, shrouded in black and whirling a vicious red bladed lightsaber, led the final stretch personally. His weapon took the head of not two but three Special Forces troopers trying to bring him down, and he re-directed a low-grade thermal detonator back into the last nest of allied soldiers which eliminated whatever remaining resistance that had opposed him. A brilliant red-white explosion closed out what remained of the INN news report by Rolm, an old Feeorin anchor for the new work.

Dulgan studied the lingering image of the Sith warrior from his seat at the bar along with the old man next to him who had spoken earlier. The mask the darksider wore unmistakeably Sith, as it matched designs he had studied during his time in the Jedi Order. If that didn't clue him in, perhaps it was the fact that he was leading a contingent of Sith troopers bent on the destruction of that Republic position. Maybe the red blade of light striking down Republic soldiers was the key factor though. He wondered briefly for a time what it would be like to fight one of their number. No doubt it would be a tough fight, but that one's blade work looked rather sloppy. Deflecting blaster bolts was one thing, but fighting a former Jedi was a totally different story. Then again, he would never know until he actually did; gladly, that day would likely never come. He was a freelancer now, and he tried to avoid the day to day troubles of galactic affairs. Granted, there were the group of thugs who saw through the hydrospanner disguise of his lightsaber, but otherwise no one ever paid him attention anymore.

"Whadda' you think, bub? Think the Jedi should stick it to those Sithies?"

Dulgan turned a head to the balding old man, his eyes obscured by his sunglasses. A hand reached into his pocket and fished out a few credit chips. Counting the number, he withdrew some back into his pocket before slapping the rest right in front of the man's drink and standing.

"I think you should get a few more drinks in before the Sith storm the bar, sunshine."

As he turned away to a few chuckles from the others at the bar, the old bum grumbled random curse words under his breath before thanking Dulgan with an apathetic "See ya" and yelling for the bartender to help him drown his thoughts under a bottle of booze. Making his way through the crowds inside the bar area, he stepped aside into the Coruscanti underground slums, a never-ending nightmare of flashing advertisement signs, prostitutes, bums, and the like. The sun never reached down here, and so it was inordinately cold. The chill was artificial and thus not natural to his senses; he had been down here so many times before, but was never quite able to acclimate himself to this strange weather and the absence of real sunlight. In coordination with that, he hated being down here; it was dangerous and it smelled horrible. Terren, a silver-hued HK droid as well as his companion on his journeys, was leaning against their speeder with a heavy blaster rifle in hand for good reason.

"<:// Nice of you to return."

Dulgan shrugged as he vaulted over the side door of the topless speeder and into the driver seat. Terren likewise moved into the shotgun seat as he powered up the reactor. The vehicle rumbled to life as it lurched off the ground and drowned out any nearby chatter or fighting.

"Spent some time at the bar after meeting with a friend."

"<:// Always side-tracked as usual, I see."

He was just about to take off for one of the speeder air lanes when the Force just sort of queued him in at random. He hadn't been paying any attention to the energy sources around him, but it was like the Force had wanted him to just stop and smell the roses. Or in this case, the artificial junk food sitting in dumpsters just around the corner. There was something wrong around him, something incredibly, horribly wrong.

It was a rift.

Well, perhaps not a rift. But it was most certainly strong and unnatural in a place like this. Unmistakably aligned with the Dark Side and filled with emotions akin to vengeance.... a Dark Jedi, here? Yes, that was the only explanation. Why was this one any different from the others he had encountered? The presence was simply... foreign. It didn't feel right. He felt the anger surge, felt another life fade and blink out of existence. Curiosity in his head was rising; he wanted to find this person, talk to them. There wasn't any particular reason for it except for that the Force was almost calling him to leave the speeder and chase after the person.

Hell, why not.

He leaped out of the speeder, landing hard on his feet but manipulating the Force to keep it as soft as possible. Terrren looked over the side, scratching his mechanical head and wondering what could have possibly come across his master's mind.

"<:// What are you doing?!"

Dulgan looked up at him, shouting. His hands cupped his mouth, but no one but the droid would have been able to hear him anyway.

"I'll meet you back at the ship! I need to check up on something!"

Terren shook his head, but otherwise disappeared from sight with the speeder in tow towards the upper levels and the space port where they had docked. With that, he started making his way in what he felt was the right direction. All he had to do was follow was the Force's guidance, if that didn't sound corny enough. Or perhaps he could follow that man dressed like a serial killer with a lightsaber on his belt who had just walked around the corner. Eye contact established, he could feel a corrupted energy ebbing in, out and around the man's persona as if he just radiated chaos. Dulgan started walking towards him, his mouth silent. A sense of seriousness invaded his otherwise jovial personality. The Dark Jedi's very attire suggested he was dangerous and hostile, but at the same time Dulgan now felt his vigilante mode kicking in; he wanted to convert the man, change his perspective on things as a small means of atonement for his sins. Yes, he would do that.

[Rugs]

Coruscant again.

It had been a while since he'd been here, but the Galactic capital always called Tsubasa back. How could it not? Billions upon billions of people lived the city that stretched around world. Billions upon billions of people, some of which who had money. Some of those people who had money sometimes needed things done. And, sometimes the things that needed doing required a particularly capable sort of person.

Tsubasa happened to be quite capable. For some things.

Most of the time it was simple jobs: working as part of a security detail one of the many local homes to the arts, or as a bodyguard for a wealthy man or woman who felt the need for one. Nothing too complex, but he'd proven himself time and again. That led to building a clientele, and that led to a steady source of income. Tsubasa wasn't a worldly man, but it did take money to keep the Vagabond going, as well as to purchase some of the necessities of life and keep food in his stomach.

He was currently on-world working at one of the major opera houses. A new work would soon be making its debut, and a number of high-profile people would be in attendance, from Senators to CEOs. He thought hiring a Matukai might have been a bit overkill, but he wouldn't complain; he had a taste for the arts. Barsavi had seen to that.

Presently he was free to do as he wished, though, and so he was out and about in the city. He'd recently had a meal for lunch, and was roaming around some of the lower levels with no particular goal in mind.

He walked down the street, flowing smoothly through the crowds that had a way of clogging the city. Mindful of where he was--one of the rougher parts of town--he kept his dark grey travel cloak pushed back a bit over his left shoulder, revealing one of his phrik pauldrons and gauntlets, as well as some of the clothing that fit closely over his muscular frame. More importantly, it revealed the short vibroblade in a sheath at his hip. He had other weapons--a wan-shen, most notably--but they were under the cloak, either on the other side of his hip or on his back. Still, it was warning enough that he wasn't to be messed with, if the smooth, dangerous grace his movements had wasn't enough.

A droid was perched on his right shoulder. It was small, and shaped like a dragon, with its tail curled around the back of Tsu's neck. The wings were holographic, currently a bright red. Ifrit, Tsu called him. He was as fiery as his name might suggest.

"I still don't see the problem, Tsubasa. If someone causes trouble at the debut, I can deal with them with little worry."

Tsu chuckled softly, turning his body to the side slightly to pass between two corpulent men that decided to take up half the walkway. "That's the problem exactly, Ifrit. Don't you go flinging your chemical at every threat you may or may not see tomorrow night. I was hired to protect the people attending, not have them burned to death." It wasn't the first time he'd had a similar talk with the little droid.

Ifrit titled his head to the side slightly, then made a shrugging motion as he resettled on Tsubasa's shoulder. A puff of smoke drifted from his mouth. "If you say so, Tsubasa."
Tsu chuckled again. "I do. You already know the pa-" He cut off midsentence. Something had... changed in the Force. There was a ripple, a disturbance. Something was wrong.

Ifrit looked down at Tsu. "Tsubasa? Is everything alright?"

"I'm not sure..." Tsubasa frowned. There was a presence nearby. It was dark, tainted. And whoever it belonged to was doing things that felt very disconcerting through the Force. "Stay alert, Ifrit." Without another word, he started to job toward the disturbance.

As he arrived at a building, he felt a sudden welling in the Force, and then... nothing. The Force went quiet, eerily so. Tsubasa gently tugged on the edge of his cloak, bring it to hang around his body completely. Then a man came into the street.

It's him. A taint surrounded him. And a feeling lingered over him in the Force--one Tsubasa couldn't quite put a name to. But he'd done something, and whatever it was, it'd caused the disturbances.

Tsu started to walk casually as the man came into the street, heading in the opposite direction. But as they came to pass, he let his shoulder bump into the man, then stopped.

"Sorry about that," he muttered, turning as if he was going to continue on. But he didn't. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about what just happened here, would you, stranger?"

[D A N T E]

Dante felt the man hit his shoulder, and he was going to just ignore it and continue on, when the man did just the opposite. He turned around and began spoking to him.

"You wouldn't happen to know anything about what just happened here, would you, stranger?"

Dante turned to face him and acted as innocent as he could. The thug was bantha fodder, and Dante didn't see the reason why anyone would take such interest in the incident at all, none-the-less, he wasn't going to be part of it.

"No, I was just walking by, not wanting to get involved, I ignored the scene."

What else could he say, he was obviously caught near the act, best to pretend he's a scared civilian and not wanting to get involved in the crime world of Coruscant. A lot of people are like that, and so how would it be a surprise that he was the same way. This man's opinion of his cowardice didn't bother him, because it kept him off his back.

Unless... this man could sense his force power, and if so, he'd definitely be able to feel what was left of his annoyance radiating off his body. He was never good at hiding his emotions within the force. It rolled off of him like fog, and often, too often, gave him away.