Red Men Bled

[Jenno]

Alpha had become quite acustomed with the interiors of ships, how confined they were. Yet, at the same time, how there were always places he could hide in order to travel from world to world for free. He didn't even question the desire to run anymore, he was just victim to it. How many worlds had it been now? He couldn't remember, but ther Outer Rim seemed like one of the easiest places to hide from the company.

He phased through planet after planet, a living shadow barely scrapping the surface of anyone's recognition. He knew how to do it, his whole life he had listened and learned like an obedient slave, but these abilities of his, they were useful. He had landed on Dantooine not too long ago, stowed away on a commercial vehicle, he had quickly come to ovserve how this section of the galaxy and this planet in particular was quite enthused about uncovering stowaways. However, they did not expect to be searching for someone with his proficiency in the art of hiding.

Now he was in some small town, Flint it was called. He wouldn't stay long. There was no scent of the company of his tail at the moment, but that didn't mean there was time for him to relax. Staying anywhere too long would be bad, he'd have to look for another flight that he could - not good.

Caught up in the thoughts of his mind, Alpha's gaze had lost its focus momentarily, the world happened around him but Alpha was unaware. It was at this moment three soldiers had come walking around the corner. They bumped in to him. Alpha stared at them blankly.

"H-hello?"

"Hello? Aren't you going to apologise to us?"

"Apologise?"

"Yes, apologise for hitting us."

"I did not hit you."

"Are you trying to be smart?"

"I am already intelligent, I do not need to try."

The soldiers looked a bit perplexed but one of them had tightened their grip on their guns and went to raise it. Another of the soldiers stepped in.

"We'd like you to come with us."

"Why?"

"Because if you want to avoid getting into trouble you'll come with us."

Alpha most certainly wanted to avoid that, so he walked with them. They didn't go far, two of the soldiers were whispering to one another. Suddenly the group took a sharp turn and headed down a small overshadowed alleyway. It was empty, and the way that the light struggled to reach them, this was perfect for Alpha, just the kind of places he liked.

"Who are you?"

"I do not know."

"What?"

"I do not know."

"What's your name?"

"Alpha."

"What kind of a name is that?"

"I do not know. I was not aware there were different kinds of names."

"What are you doing here with so many weapons?"

"You told me to follow so that I could avoid trouble and my weapons are with me wherever I go."

"See, we're starting to think that you're a rebel, and we don't look too kindly on rebels."

"I am a rebel? What am I rebelling against?"

"You really need teaching a lesson."

"Which lesson? I've already had an extensive number."

The soldier gave up on words. He raised his fist and swung it at Alpha's face, but Alpha saw the strike coming and his body moved almost automatically. Block with the left, strike with the right, grab the back of the head, knee with the right, reposition grip, break. The proceedure was almost formulaic, and now there was a dead body left behind.

The two other soldiers were stunned momentarily by the sudden death of their friend and comrade. But as they recovered from the shock, they raised their weapons. Alpha was already moving, he had unsheathed his short swords and was dashing towards the two soldiers. The fastest drawer of the two was still not quick enough for Alpha, who sliced through the soldier's neck before he could even think about pulling the trigger. Then he was onto his next target, dropping down caught the soldier unaware, allowing Alpha to easily sweep his legs. As the man fell the assassin quckly followed up by planting one if his swords through the man's heart.

He let go of the blade protruding from the man's chest, and the one in his hand. He looked at the bodies. What had he done? He knew how to kill, where to strike but why had he? He gazed at his hands, sprayed lightly with the blood from the soldier's neck wound. He stumbled into the nearby wall, his legs slowly giving up their strength, he slid down onto the floor and turned to face the bodies. As he held his knees to his chest, his eyes could no longer stand to look at them. He started to mumble.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Red men bled, red men dead. Hands of death, cut and killed. Kill them quick, kill them quiet. Full marks, well done, well done..."

[Meira]

"Are you sure I can't give you something for this?"

"I'm sure, Elle. You do enough for us as it is. It was the least I could do."

Elle wrapped her arms around Mo one more time before walking her to the door. Her husband had gone missing two weeks ago. Of course, they all knew what missing meant. Everyone knew the risks, but that didn't make his loss any easier to bear. His absence brought more than just an emotional strain, however. Putting food on the table was a daily struggle. Mo's visit couldn't have come at a better time. Fresh meat from the forests and a few dry provisions would see them through a little while long.

Mo bid the woman and her three children goodbye before making her way back to Flint's open market area. If things continued as they did, they might have to move Elle and her children to Homestead. The question then would be where to put them. They had space, but every addition meant added responsibilities, and a risk of exposure. The DLA tried not to move people from Flint if they could avoid it, but it wasn't like they were going to abandon the family of a man who'd done so much to feed the DLA information on the Sith's movements. She made a mental note to discuss it with Al later.

The market was fairly crowded, keeping Mo's nerves relatively at ease as she moved amongst the stalls and buildings. The air was warm but not hot, with a cool breeze catching the skin here and there. The smell from the different food stalls blended into one delicious scent that carried through the air with the sound of the vendors shouting out their wares. The scene was almost idyllic.

Almost.

Just when she was about to smile, the cruel reality of what Dantooine now was would suddenly appear in front of her; a closed up shop with a warning poster on the door declaring the fate of those who would dare defy the Sith occupiers was almost enough to cause her stomach to churn. The sight brought back the reason why she'd come to Flint in the first place. She didn't often come on the runs into town, preferring to keep to the forests and the plains, but Elle needed to feed her children and she'd managed to snag some extra game the day before. None of this -her avoidance of populated areas, feeding desperate widows, fathers disappearing forever- would be happening if the Sith hadn't invaded.

That's enough. Mo mentally chided herself Those kinds of thoughts did nothing to help. Things were what they were, dreaming up what if's would do nothing to change that. What she needed to do now was find Al so that they could gather their things and head back to Homestead.

Only a few minutes later, she spotted him across the market, but as she made her way towards him, she caught sight of three Sith soldiers. As calmly as she could, Mo blended into a group standing around a fruit stand. Her eyes kept track of the soldiers, waiting for them to move on. But the soldiers stopped. Mo had to reposition to see what had stopped them. It was a man. The soldiers had run into him and now seemed to be speaking angrily. The man didn't seem to understand what they were saying. Then the man was walking with the soldiers and Mo was worried Flint would see another case of soldiers bullying civilians simply because they could.

Quickly, she made her way over to Al and nudged him in the side. "Follow me. I think there might be some trouble." she said before moving off in the direction the soldiers had gone.

When she reached the spot where the soldiers had run into the man, however, they were nowhere to be seen. Mo could feel her pulse quicken. Going somewhere out of sight wasn't exactly a good sign. They'd have to hurry if they were going to help the poor guy. Not far off, there was a darker alleyway that Mo hoped had nothing at the end of it. Unfortunately, she didn't get what she hoped for.

She moved down the alley, and then all of the sudden, there was the man, slumped against the wall. There was something else, but the dim light made it hard to see after the brightness of the market. She took a few steps closer, straining her eyes to adjust.

"Hey, are you alri- HOLY...."

Now she could see them clearly. One was a broken heap, like a sack of flour on the ground. Another lie in a pool of deep red, his throat opened. The third still had a sword in his chest, but the light in his eyes was gone. After the initial shock wore off, Mo made the wise decision to take a few steps back from the man as she turned, her eyes searching, hoping Al hadn't fallen behind.

[Rugs]

"So this is the best our gentle rulers could come up with, eh?"

Al stood under a single harsh light, leaning slightly to one side with his weight held mostly on one leg. He had a hand tucked into his coat pocket. The other held a cigarra that had smoke curling lazily from the end of it. He flicked the thing gently, knocking some ash from the tip.

The ashes fell on a table, close to the bottom of a large poster that was spread out across its top. "PRESERVE THE PEACE" sprawled across the top in big, bold letters. "CHOKE THE REBELLION."

The art on the poster depicted what Al could only imagine the Sith thought a normal farming family looked like, with smudges of dirt on their working clothes showing a hard day's work. They had their backs turned to dark humanoid figures with glowing red eyes and hands outheld. The farmers held baskets of food and water and supplies tightly on the side away from the shadowmen, with their noses turned up in the air, where a Sith flag just so happened to be stretched across the sky.

"Swear they get worse with every new one they crap out."

One of the other men standing around the table laughed. He was middle-aged, tall and thick of shoulder, and starting to bald. "Think the idiots would've figured it out by now. Same people fightin' 'em are the ones they're tryin'a talk to."

Another man spoke. He was lanky, with a head that looked too large for his skinny neck and shoulders and goofily-arching eyebrows that always made him look surprised. His name was Alfred, and he owned the store whose basement the group had gathered in. "The Sith don't care. If they did, they'd at least bother learning who they should be talking to."

"No, they care," Al muttered, looking at the propaganda piece on the table. "They just don't know how to do this. Not against us." He drew from his cigarra and sighed, blowing smoke. "They spent all their time gettin' ready to fight the Republic. Not a bunch'a damn rebels." A note of pride touched the edge of his voice. Despite the hardships, the DLA was still going strong, and keeping up the fight.

They all would. Dantooine was too precious to give up.

Al glanced at the chrono on his wrist and groaned softly. "I gotta go, fellas. Been down here too long. Mo'll start wondering where I've disappeared to soon." She'd likely finished giving her condolences to the Elle. Al had come down to this meeting place to gather news from around Flint. And take a look at the Sith's latest propaganda efforts.

He dropped his cigarra and stamped it out underfoot. "Been good talkin'. We'll have to do it again sometime."

~~~~~

A short while later, Al was outside, lazily browsing some wares in the marketplace, and Mo was none the wiser. As if summoned by his thoughts of her, she came to him nudging him.

"Follow me. I think there might be some trouble."

"Hm?" Al raised his brows, looking around the market square. "Trouble?" He didn't see anything, but he'd only just arrived. Besides, he trusted Mo. So he set down the little wood carving he'd been looking at and jogged after her.

He heard her yell something. He drew his pistol as he caught up with her in the alley.

And saw... "What the hell?"

Several men were dead. Sith, by the uniform. To call the deaths messy would be an understatement.

A lone figure sat in the midst of the them, muttering to himself, though Al couldn't make out what he was saying. Al kept his pistol out.

"What happened here?" He glanced back over his shoulder to see if any Sith were coming. "If someone finds this you're gonna be in a world of trouble..."

Against his better judgment, he took a step forward. Slowly, so as not to startle the man. "Who are you, anyway?"

And who could kill three Sith by himself like this?

[Jenno]

There were others. He froze, his muscles automatically tightened, ready to explode. But he was also frozen by something else. He didn't know what it was, but it made his spine chill and the hairs on his neck and arms stand upright. He could make their faces out. Male, female, they looked like locals. Their clothes, their walk, the looks of horror upon their faces as they saw what he had done to the red men.

The male had a pistol, he held it firm, but he seemed intent on approaching. What did he want? Alpha's eyes shifted to the other, to the female, and their eyes met for a moment. He saw a sharpness within them that betrayed her simple clothing. That's when he recognised her face from before, when the red men had brought him here, she had been watching him then, she had followed him here. And with an accomplice. They were tracking him.

Not a moment later than the thought had scratched his mind, Alpha vaulted forward, shifting the man's arm so that he the weapon would not be pointed at him. He grabbed the sword next to him and in a flash was behind the female, hand wrapped around her chin, sword pressed below her right eye. He used her as a shield, to prevent the man from getting a clear shot as best he could.

"Sharp eyes, searching, sweeping, scouring, eyes that hunt. Am I your prey? If I cut out your eyes will you stop following me?"

His mind recalled a question from the man, who he spoke to. "Who am I? You know who I am, can't hunt if you don't know what you're after. Need to know about me to know my trail. I don't leave an easy trail."

"Do I?" He asked, genuinely unsure, shifting his attention back to the female. She was the one with the eyes, the male could hold the same gaze.

It was confusing for Alpha, they had followed him, but they did not seem like the highly trained assassins or bounty hunters that would be sent to capture him. But what if that was their plan? No, it was too stupid for the company.

"Why did you follow me?"

[Meira]

Be careful, Al. Mo thought the words, but did not say them as he walked around her, studying the scene. She told herself to watch the man, but her eyes kept being drawn to the massacre he'd apparently made of the Sith soldiers. How could he have done it?

When Al began to speak to the man, Mo remembered to shift her focus back. When she did, she noticed his posture had changed. The man had gone rigid. Not a good sign. Every nerve in her body was now telling her it was time to high tail it out of there.

"Al, we shou-" She couldn't finish the sentence. In the blink of an eye, the man had moved, pushing past Al. Then suddenly, he had his hand on her chin. He was behind her with one of the swords pressed just below her eye. In that instant, Mo let out a yelp of surprise. It was her turn to go rigid. She could feel the sticky blood still on the blade from the dead soldier. She could smell it.

The man's grasp on her chin was tight, digging into her jaw line. She dared no move her arms or try to break free. One slip and that blade would plunge into her eye. The man began to speak, the words made no sense to her, but she could feel his breath at her ear and it sent a sickly shiver down her spine. She caught the word 'tracking'.

"We weren't tracking you." she said, her voice an octave or two higher than normal. Her throat felt tight. How she hated feeling caught, helpless. Her blue eyes were wide as she looked to Al. With a motion of her hand, she silently implored him to put away the pistol. Anything to calm the man down. He obviously wasn't in his right mind.

"You looked like you were in trouble with those soldiers. We were going to help you." Mo prayed to whatever spirits might be listening that the man would understand. She wanted nothing more to be free of his grip and to have him far behind in their dust as they raced back home. "Please," she pleaded, "let me go."

[Rugs]

Al moved a hair closer to the strange man, though every instinct, every fiber of his being told him to get away. Something intrigued Al about the fellow though, through the sharp, paranoid eyes and the tense, standoffish manner.

Who killed those Sith, he wonder again, attention breaking from the man long enough to glance at the bloody bodies strewn out on the ground. Was it you?

A thought came to Al then--perhaps greedy, perhaps foolish, but it was a thought nonetheless. If this man had killed the troops, and they could get him on their side...

"Hey liste-"

Before Allistair could get a word in edgewise, the man had moved, pushing past him and pushing his arm wide and his pistol along with it. Al spun on his heel, grip tightening on his gun and mind aware of the knife at his hip as he faced the man again.

And there was Mo, caught up in the nameless killer's grip with a blade held up threateningly against her.

Perhaps Al had been wrong; it wouldn't be the first time.

Then the man began to speak, but his words were... chaotic. Broken. Al furrowed his brow, still holding the pistol tightly as he tried to figure out just what the guy was talking about. Searching, tracking... leaving a trail. It became apparent that someone was chasing the man. But who?

And why?

They were important questions with important answers, but they would have to wait. More important was the way the closest thing he had to a sister was terrified for her life right in front of him.

Not that he could blame her.

"Listen..." Al said slowly. Talking would have to work; he couldn't shoot the man, not with him holding Mo like that. And with the three corpses still behind him as testimony to some sort of ability to kill, he wasn't fond of the thought of starting a fight, either.

"We're not after you. I swear on... on my life, on the Force, on whatever you believe or wanna hear. Okay?" He weighed putting down his pistol. If he did, he'd be defenses if the man attacked him... But he moved so fast just then I couldn't even react before he was past me.

Though he was reluctant to give up the steady reassurance of a gun in his hand, Al crouched down, with one hand up and open before him, and set his pistol down on the pavement. He rose slowly and took two steps slowly away from the weapon and the man, showing his empty hands.

"I don't want to hurt you. Neither does she. Just let her go, alright? We're not your enemies." He glanced over his shoulder at the dead Sith behind him, and turned back to the strange man. "But these men you've killed... Their bosses will be.

"You asked about leaving a trail, well... Three dead soldiers in a back alley is a messy start. A really, really messy start." For a moment, Al hesitated, unsure of if he wanted to do what he was thinking. Then he pushed ahead. "But we know how to keep their eyes away from you. But you'll need us."

Allistair allowed a moment of silence, and to emphasize his next words, met the killer's eyes levelly. "Both of us."

[Jenno]

He didn't understand what they were doing. If the company had sent them to hunt him down then why was this man putting his weapon down, why was there concern in his eyes for his partner? Why was this woman so afraid? The company would never have trusted their hunt to anyone but the most ruthless and fearless predators that they could buy. Or make.

As he looked over the man with uncertainty, trying to make sense of it, Alpha removed his sword from below the woman's eye and let go of her. "You're not here to hurt me." The statement finally formed from his confusion and he looked at them. "You have the eyes of a hunter but lack the nerves of one," he said to the woman, and then motioned towards the man "and you put yourself in danger to try and save your companion. You were not sent."

He felt a wave rush over him and his body relaxed, it was an odd sensation. "But why would you claim to help me? You don't know me." Alpha sheathed the blade he held in his hand and looked over to where the other sat, still in the chest of one of the red men. The man had been right about something. This was a trail. Would it seem suspicious to the company? Would they consider this a lead? Was his presence on this world already in jeopardy?

He walked over to the body, gripped the hilt of the blade and looked away as he removed the weapon from the corpse. "I do not fear the bosses of these red men. But the fewer eyes upon me the better. How do you suggest I avoid their gaze?" After wiping the blood onto the body, Alpha placed his second blade back in its sheath and returned his eyes to these two strangers.

[Meira]

It was odd. Watching Al crouch down to put down his pistol filled her with relief, and a moment later, a new sense of dread. It wasn't like him holding that gun made her odds of surviving any better, but it did better his chances. Without it, there was the possibility she'd be saved, and an increased chance of losing him. Mo's eyes watered at the realization of how quickly she'd jumped to focusing on her own survival. Al wouldn't see it that way. Somehow, that fact only caused her heart to wrench even more. She would have to beg his forgiveness later, and pray now that she would have the chance to.

And that's exactly what she did. Alongside the fear, a separate part of her brain conjured faint memories of her frigid home world, of the songs of thanks her mother would sing, pleas for peace and safety. The memory was a comfort, but the words were foreign to her, alien.

Al was speaking. Mo tore herself away from what little comfort those memories could bring to hear him. There was little she could do to aid in his attempt to calm the man, apart from keeping perfectly still. Even that almost failed, however, when Al's tone seemed to change. Had he seriously just said they'd help this nut job? Her jaw slackened from it's rigid position in shock, but tightened immediately as the man's grip squeezed painfully on her cheeks at the lack of resistance.

"Atma'om, hamem garda..." the prayer came forth like a breath over her lips. She could scarcely hear it herself, nor was she sure of its exact meaning. But she remembered her mother saying it often as they huddled in the cave in the weeks after the Sith destroyed their home. Perhaps the Force heard her. Not a moment after she uttered the words, the stranger released his hold on her.

She stumbled a step or two away from him, one hand rubbing at her jaw while the other felt along her cheekbone for any cut the sword might have left. Her fingers came away stained red, but it was not her blood. In spite of herself, Mo threw her arms around Al for a moment, squeezing him tight, as if she needed to reassure herself that they were both alright. Of course, they weren't out of this yet.

The crazy man consented that she and Al were not after him. Under different circumstances, his comment on her lack of nerves might have earned him a counter argument right to the nose, but how could she argue with this man as she wiped tears from her eyes?

"There's people here that don't much appreciate that the Sith decided to blow up our homes." Mo spat at the man's question of why they would help him. "They like to push people around, make themselves feel strong. Some have a mind to push back."

The more the man spoke, the more uneasy Mo felt. Why did he talk like that? He almost sounded like a droid. Worse, he sounded nothing like he had as he spewed nonsense while holding that sword to her eye. The man was off his rocker and Mo didn't like the feel of him. Her eyes glanced toward Al, a plea to leave and let this man find his own way. It was one thing to help others out, but they didn't need this kind of mess in their midst.

[Rugs]

"You're not here to hurt me."

Al nodded slowly, eyes intent on the man, gaze steady, consistent, but not challenging. No. We're not. Just want to be on our way... He dared not voice his thoughts while the man spoke, though.

"You have the eyes of a hunter but lack the nerves of one. And you put yourself in danger to try and save your companion. You were not sent."

It was as though a light came on. Suddenly Mo was free, Al felt himself breathing again, and the air in the cramped alley was noticeably less tense.

Which is to say now he'd only need a hacksaw to cut through it, rather than a lightsaber.

Baby steps, he told himself, running a hand through his messy black hair.

The worst was past, or so he hoped. Yet now another conundrum faced him, and he pointedly tried to ignore the looks Mo was shooting his way. Something about this... unnamed man, this crazed pariah spoke to a part of Al. He was someone they could use; someone they could put to good use. Clearly he could fight, and fight well to have dispatched a pair of Sith so.

But on the other hand, he was, well... very strange to say the least. And he was wary to risk an incident in the Homestead if he came unhinged.

"Well..." he started slowly, rubbing his hair again. What do I do?

He missed his older brother very acutely then. Dutch would know what to do. He always did.

"For starters, you don't just kill Sith in the streets. These two," he motioned with his head toward the two corpses laying in the alley, "are going to draw attention; the kinda attention you don't want."

He paused, trying to stall for time. Trying to think.

"Which means we need to move," he said suddenly, glancing briefly to Mo. "If anyone sees us back here with the corpses it's gonna be trouble."

Abruptly Al was moving, leaving the alley from a different way than they'd come in. He still had no idea what he wanted to do.

No, I know what I want to do.

He just wasn't sure he had the courage.

[Meira]

Mo was trying very hard to keep her breathing calm and steady. She was trying very hard not to look at the blaster Al had to put on the ground just to ensure she stayed safe. Even the sight of the man pulling that sword out of the dead soldier -a sight she might have relished under different circumstances- made her feel queasy. She wanted out of here; away and gone from this psychopath forever.

She barely caught Al's words about moving, or the look he shot her way. But his sudden movement away left her feeling decidedly alone. Without thinking, she moved to follow him, her frame stooping over to scoop up the blaster. It was only after a moment that she realized that was probably not the best idea in front of this guy. She quickly held it out and away from her, allowing it to dangle from one finger looped through the trigger guard. No threat here, crazy man. She thought to herself as she moved past the bodies to follow Al.

Luckily for them, Flint had a network of back alleys that they were able to move through without drawing attention. This was all fine and good for now. But where exactly was Al thinking about going? She knew better to assume he'd just let this man jump into a speeder with them and head back to Homestead. But if that wasn't the case, then where? They had a few safe houses here and there, but lately their ability to use them was being hindered. The Sith were making a show of force in many areas. She'd even heard tell of rallies being held in the polluted mess that was now called Smog City. Forced rallies were the exact word's Al's cousin had used.

Crazy Guy seemed to be keeping a respectful distance behind them, so Mo moved closer to Al and whispered as they came to a stop to survey the scene ahead of them. "What exactly are you thinking?" she asked, her eyes glancing back to the man. "Cuz I'm thinking something along the lines of 'take him to the space port and disappear'".

[Rugs]

"How much do you trust me, Mo?" Al asked, looking at her momentarily as they began to walk from their stop.

It was, perhaps, an unfair question; Al knew Mo trusted him with her life, just as he trusted her with his own. They had to--the very nature of their struggle and the shape it had lent their lives demanded that it be so. Yet, here he had to make a decision on what was best for this strange man neither of them really understood, and perhaps, for their resistance.

"You know I'm not takin' him home to mom," he muttered, assuring her that he wasn't thinking of taking the stranger back to the Homestead. She shouldn't have been worried about it anyway; that would be the very height of foolishness. There was a 'but' in his voice, though, and it followed a brief pause.

"But there may be something to this guy. Yeah, he's... not wrapped the tightest, but I dunno." He slowed his pace, glancing left, then right, as they came to and passed along through an intersecting alley. "I got a place in mind--Ol' Jed's. We can take him there, let him stay, see what he does. Keep an eye on him. Decide from there."

It was one of the resistance's scattered safehouses. In Flint. That posed a bit of a risk, perhaps, but Al didn't want to risk this stranger in Smog City; if word from there was true, the dynamics were too fluid, and not necessarily in their favor. Besides, Flint was probably a better fit for keeping an eye on him. Closer, an easier place to work, less outside trouble.

For now.

"There might be somethin' to the guy, Mo, if he can kill that good." Al glanced over his shoulder at the man. Silently he wondered if Dutch would approve of what he was doing.

Too late now. The dice were already rolling.