Carnivale de Veleno

[Jazen]

It had been a while since Jazen had seen Locke this rattled. Normally, Locke would have been trying to get information from Vance by trying to appeal to the boy, to work the Jedi in him and try to remind him of who he was. Not this Locke. This Locke was seething, so much so that Jazen could feel the rage building in him through the Force. Jazen had never seen Locke like this...but then, he'd experienced Novus firsthand himself. He could hardly blame him.

Locke was right though; Vance should have known that with Novus was coming here, ill will would be the intent. But to do this much damage, even Jazen was surprised. Mainly because it was so quiet and efficent; half of the people didn't even know what was happening. People were screaming, panicking, others trying to maintain order and attend to those who were fading. It was like a screen straight out of a bad holo horror.

Still, the panic was helping. At least it was keeping people away from the damned food.

"Master...we can smack his traitorous behind later. We have bigger problems for the moment." As if on cue, one of the waiter's wandered up to them, as casually as if the night wasn't tearing itself apart with chaos and screams. It would have almost looked comedic...if he wasn't holding a knife to his throat with a big smile on his face.

Jazen's hand went instinctively to his belt, only to remember his saber was hidden in his inside jacket. Still, he held his stance, just in case the waiter tried something...but all he did was deliver a message. A request really...from no doubt the mastermind behind this affair. Jazen again felt that ripple of fear(or excitement) shudder up his spine once more and for the first time in a while, a feeling of dread. That last time they'd met, she'd taken his master. The time before that...she had done things to him. Things that left a lasting impression. It made him wonder what he would do when they encountered her again...Force give him strength.

"Yes brother." He took ahold of Vance's arm, holding it tighter then he should have and whispered into his ear. "Please, try something stupid. Well, more stupid then you've already done. I've been bored out of my mind for hours." Then he turned his attention back to Locke, just as he finished doing...whatever he had been doing to the waiter. He wasn't sure what he did but the boy took the knief away from his throat, which was good enough.

"As if I was gonna wait here. Come on Vance." He gave him a gentle shove before releasing his arm, keeping him in sight as they walked towards the gardens, playing their roles while preparing to switch over to their real profession.

Right before they were about to enter, however, Locke stopped them. Jazen's face frowned at being told to wait here, especially considering how dangerous Novus was. They weren't around anyone else, so Jazen dropped the pretext of their identity in his words. "Master, are you sure? Last time you barely held her off...let me help this time. We can take her together." He knew Locke would refuse however and after hearing his reasoning, let out a long sigh of understanding. "Understood Master. But don't forget that swings both ways; if anything goes wrong, call for me. I'll just cut off his legs and then come to you."

Was he joking? That was for Vance to consider as Jazen watched his Master enter the gardens before shoving Vance back towards one of the security booths. "Stay right there. Or you'll see firsthand whether or not I'm joking." Then he activated his comm and listened in on the security as they tried to contain the madness. "This is Iovine. The younger one. Keep anyone from eating or drinking anything, at least without testing it first. I believe they've been poisoned. Check for similiarities between the victims in what they tasted. And keep an eye out...more trouble could be coming."

He glanced at Vance before frowning at him. "What else was poisoned? You'd better start talking or so help me, I'll stop making you wish Locke was the one pissed off at you. The kind of poison, effects, antidotes. Hurry up." Jazen only hoped Locke was having better luck on his end...and wasn't already dead at Novus's feet.

[Neology]

She waited on a bench at the heart of the maze, fingers loosely gripping the stone. Polished marble on top, a rough texture on the seat's underside - the duality was of tactile interest and all of it was cold. Novus smiled at Locke when he arrived through the thorns, dressed more like an Alderanian prince than a Jedi. Presumably that suit would go back on some designer's rack in the morning - if the Jedi didn't ruin it.

"Mister? ..." She trailed off, inviting him to introduce this character, the accented rich man. It was a little bit disappointing when he abruptly dropped the act.

"No game? Ah, and there goes half the fun." She stood very slowly, taking care to show the Jedi her empty hands. A few steps followed the hedge wall, putting a little more distance between them, poor comfort though that was. She could sense Vance nearby, along with Locke's padawan.

"Murder?" Novus echoed, turning back toward the Jedi, brows climbing. "Oh, no, Locke. I've not murdered, nor manslaughtered, nor caused the death of by misadventure, anyone tonight." Not a lie, yet. She clasped her hands in front of herself. "It seems Ms. Tikaris will be getting nothing for her company's very generous donation to the Republic, save for a couple bites of soup and the attention of a gentleman far above her station. Really, Nemsee, do you think they'll talk?" She watched him carefully, expecting to strike a reaction. As interesting as that would surely be, her attention remained focused on the lines of his suit, wondering at concealed weapons. If this turned violent, she'd have little choice but to run.

"Too bad about the auction, though. I'll buy out the lot wholesale, later." She shrugged one shoulder and waved her hand. It doesn't matter.

"Now, I've lost face with the upper class. Muunilinst, your timely escape, and all the rest. But people are much too trusting of their servants, their comconsoles, their holonet providers. I thought that that might happen." She nodded toward the city, where even now Bellinda Maskrr would be running rampant with her little pet.

"But this." She clicked her tongue. "I don't know. I'd say you're very lucky to have an expert on poisons and venoms on hand. Let Vance and me go and I'll help you save some lives. Don't and ..." She trailed off, dark brows drawing down.

"Neither of us want a repeat of that starport incident, I'm sure."

[Fromikeable]

To Vance’s genuine surprise, of all of the emotions swirling about in that hairy noggin on his, the one that was growing in supply was (much to his horror) anger. Shouldn’t he have sniffed this out from fathoms away? This hadn’t been anything diplomatic or coy in hindsight; this had been the perfect opportunity for a subtle murder. Locke was right. He was smarter than this, wasn’t he?

Apparently not. That was really the idea that pissed him off. For all his talk about not wanting to be a Sith, tonight he’d fit the bill perfectly. He hadn’t asked questions because the answers would’ve made him put up a fight. He hadn’t spoken up simply because being quiet was easier.

He was a dog. A true, utter mutt that deserved to be shoved around. Even thinking that though, he hardly appreciated the manhandling. The first shove from Locke was accepted as due payment, but the continued pushing from his padawan quickly became a growing irritation, not helping him at all manage his anger.

But he proceeded without real resistence, his eyes glued to Locke’s feet as he bit his lip with increasing force and knit his brow with increasing pressure. Why didn’t they just stab him and get it over with? He hardly deserved a trial.

But so it was that he was left with the padawan, a guy by the name of Jazen according to Locke. Vance viewed his eagerness to fight Novus almost a little comical; shoving around a conflicted ex-padawan was one thing. Going toe-to-toe with a Sith Lady was another. He had little doubt that Locke would give her a run for her money, but even with the two of them, Vance sort of doubted that they should be raring to go.

She was Novus, after all. The moment the world flipped upside down, she was already waiting at the new top.

The dismemberment comment from Jazen pulled Vance from his thoughts though, flaring his anger just a little bit more. Look, sure, he was a moron, but couldn’t he tell he was being honest? Couldn’t he tell that he was naive? That he hadn’t wanted any of this to happen? He knew that he deserved every beratement that came his way, from being called a traitor to threats to chop off his legs…

But as the anger slowly festered, it just felt like he was being kicked while he was down. And downed Vance’s loathed themselves plenty without strangers adding their two cents.

“Look, I alre-”

”What else was poisoned?”

“I don’t know, I-”

”You’d better start talking or so help me, I’ll stop making you wish Locke was the one pissed off at you.”

“Just gimmie a min-”

”The kind of poison, effects, antidotes. Hurry up.”

Even great basins could flood, and the shores of Vance’s mind finally began to flood over.

“STOP IT.” He took a step backward, his back against the booth. His mind jumbled with anger, sadness, confusion, a desperate need to remember something useful, something that could actually help, something that could fix this.

But all that came back was a lack of knowledge. That prompted even more anger.

“I don’t know anything! If I did, I would tell you! I would yell it at the top of my lungs by this point!” His breathing accelerated, a rapid pant running through his nose as his eyes widened and his hand came up to his chest. His fingers quickly hooked into his server’s jacket around the bottom of something concealed within.

Something cylindrical and metal. In some regards, he hadn’t been an idiot. Or perhaps in some regards, he’d doubly been an idiot. He’d have to figure it out later, as with many things.

“Just… just back OFF.” He swallowed hard, his eyes glued to the padawan’s face, trying not to remember the fact that if they had met a few months earlier, they all could have gone out for a drink.

Because drunkenness sounded a fair spell better than panicked.

“Let me think, okay?! Just… just give me a freaking minute!”

[Rugs]

Locke allowed a slight turn at the corner of his mouth at Novus’ disappointment. She wasn’t wrong; the game was fun. The masks and verbal jousts were thrilling. And even if a comrade might find it odd that Locke would revel as he did in lies, the Investigator simply accepted it as a part of himself—as much as the crystal embedded in his lightsaber.

“I do hate to disappoint.” His voice turned wry, even as he shrugged his shoulders apologetically, spreading his empty palms to face her. “But we do have more pressing matters to tend to, I think.”

Novus put a few extra paces’ distance between them. Locke took no effort to close the gap further; even if he was inclined to violence tonight — and he wasn’t — he wasn’t sure if she was armed or planning something.

She turned to face him again, batting away his accusations of murder. Technically she was right, he supposed, but they both knew the endgame here, and giving a few rich folks a health scare could hardly be worth the risk of exposing herself here, in the Republic’s heart.

“I imagine they might,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back, “if they weren’t all so terribly preoccupied. But poor Miss Tikaris.” He smiled sadly. “Though I doubt attempted murder is a better look for her than the full crime itself.” Locke glanced at a chronometer on his wrist. The motion was quick, almost half-hearted, but significant. “If time proves to be her ally. And I’m not certain it has yet.”

The trouble, from his perspective anyway, was that time being on Novus’ side was also good for him. People living was a positive, after all, and it wasn’t as though he needed them to die to take Novus prisoner.

She went on, nodding to the city. Locke followed the gesture. A pinprick of light bloomed like a newborn star, and faded. Smoke drifted up, highlighted against the city’s thousands of lights before it faded against the black night sky.

Locke’s jaw clenched.

"Neither of us want a repeat of that starport incident, I'm sure."

“No, that we don’t,” he said slowly, eyes still fixed on the city. “And yet, you seem perfectly happy to allow it to unfold anyway.”

The starport on Muunilinst was an accident—the result of a poorly-planned distraction set up by a padawan thrown into a situation he never should have been in. That didn’t excuse the action, but Locke had never set out with the plan to bomb a Sith port.

“You once spoke of trading atrocities…” he said. His voice drifted off. He left the thought unfinished.

“I asked you, I seem to remember, to allow me escape outside that port,” he went on, grey eyes turning to the Sith. “You denied me. Now you ask me the same.” His mind turned. No one had to die here. Novus could prevent that, it seemed, even if her allies loosed death a few miles away.

But could he weigh the impact of a few lives here against the thousands or millions more she might take if he let her free? Would sacrificing a few to save many violate the core tenets he’d sworn to uphold?

And even if she kept her word, would he be bound to keep his own?

“But that even that option doesn’t appeal. Why should I roll the dice with you instead of our own people?” He raised a brow and tilted his head slightly. “Isn’t it your nature to lie?”

[Jazen]

One thing Jazen had learned from Locke was ways to get people to talk. One way was to butter them up, stroke the methophoric ego as it were, so that they thought they were showing off while they spilled important intel. Usually, as Locke would say it, this was much easier if you gave them something to drink...several times. Drunk men on a power high tended to spill a lot without even thinking twice about it. That or have a pair of legs and breasts, something Jazen was glad he didn't have. But another way was to push someone who was flustered, weak maybe against the pressure or weak in general, push them beyond their breaking point and make them snap. See what shook loose when their tolerance had hit its limit. Both ways of course had their drawbacks to their positives and it took a good investigator to know which method to use at any given time.

Jazen still wasn't as good as Locke was in that regard, still a little too young and learning. But he had pushed a button with his pressured questioning and it revealed something about Vance; he could be pushed rather easily. A thought that terrifed Jazen on a more base level because of who he was with. He knew exactly what she could do to someone and if Vance broke under that little bit...

Jazen's hand went closer to his suit as he felt Vance's anger spike, ready to summon his saber in the simpliest of movement's in case his pressuring of Vance caused the former padawan to attack. There was rage there in his emotions, mixed with a little bit of several other negative emotions, making Jazen wonder briefly if Novus hadn't got to him as much as he thought.

Jazen kept his hand steady and eyes narrow, staring down his former ally. Watching his body language as the man struggled to find an answer, found none and seemed to get even more aggrivated. "I don't know that Vance. Truthfully, even if you did, I don't know if I could trust it. You're with "her" after all...and I know exactly how she operates. I know very damn well the game she can play." The memories surfaced, as fresh as if they had happened yesterday and Jazen felt the shame that shook his body at their memory. His eyes noted the movement inside his jacket and he shifted his body stance just enough in case.

"Look, you say you don't know anything, didn't know any of this was gonna happen? That means you're either ignorant, an idiot or lying. Your with a Sith Lord...what did you think she was going to do at a place full of Republic supporters? Give them candy and a smile?" She was good at manipulating people, Jazen gave her that. But could he have really been that foolish? Novus had possibly found someone she could manipulate into being her perfect little apprentice...or pet.

"You want to prove it to me? Prove your more Jedi then a Sith lackey? Take everything out of your pockets and show them to me. If you have any weapons, give them to me right now. Including whatever your fingering with that hand." He gestured to the hand that was gripping something at the base of his jacket. "Don't make me ask twice. And then spill everything. Any detail, no matter how small. And then we're gonna make sure your locked up and under guard for return to the Temple, where they'll decide what to do with a traitor like you."

[Fromikeable]

There were few moments in life that Vance could say he had totally lost his ability to reason. There had been one instance when he’d been a youngling and a classmate had smacked him twice in a row for fun. Another one had been as a padawan when a fish had bitten his hand and he thought it was going to fall off.

Today had just proven to be another one, thanks to a single solitary word.

Traitor.

For a moment, Vance just stared at him, his breathing switching from labored, hard pants for air to almost non-existent intakes of air. His face stored the vacant expression of a mind weighing its options, facing pros and cons, and trying to come up with a plan. His emotions swirled, but actually seemed to dissipate, as if he was too focused on something else aside from his feelings.

Locke and Novus were just down the hall out in the night. Locke probably wouldn’t be happy to see him, but if he made it clear that he wasn’t looking for a fight, that he wasn’t trying to kill Jazen, he might listen. Granted, escaping from his captivity under Jazen was hardly a good way to try and clear his name, but he wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t even let him breathe.

If nothing else, Novus could kill him for even talking to Jazen and remove him from this entire confusing scenario. That’d work.

So the plan he settled on was his left leg snapping out straight for Jazen’s crotch. His right hand pulled out the hilt of his saber, but kept it very clearly inactivated as his body was already turning, snapping his leg back just as soon as it made contact with something. He was hardly agile like the lithe padawan, but being an apprentice with long, striding legs had its advantages. With a few clumsy steps to get up to speed, he was running full-kilt down the hallway toward the garden. Even if he was slower, by sheer force of momentum, he’d be hard to stop.

His finger hovered on the button on his saber, his ears peeled for the tell-tale hiss of another. Don’t you do it… please, for the love of everything, don’t bring it there.