In Sheep's Clothing

[Naomi Lang]

De-Purteen, Capitol of Ord Cantrell

For being in the middle of nowhere in the outer rim, Ord Cantrell was a fracking nice place. Helluva lot better than Imperial center, sure the buildings were still tall, but you could actually see the soil and greenery in the streets. At least that’s what crossed Naomi’s mind as she gazed out over the carefully tended gardens decorating the atrium of her hotel.

Bright blue Ithorian Roses, rare gifts from the nature-loving race, short blossoms of Ladalum from the dead world of Alderaan, sickeningly sweet smelling Kibo blooms from the moon of Yavin-Four, and half a dozen more precious plants that probably cost the resort a small fortune in itself.

Naomi snorted, hell, the whole of the Grand Corusca Resort Hotel probably cost the same as a small moon. What with the gold and silver finish on everything. She ran her hand over a polished railing; gods even the wood was real, non of that synthetic crap.

Definitely the it place to be. Must be why she’d been standing in line for nearly two hours just to fracking check in, Naomi thought with a huff as she tapped her designer shoes on the marble floor.

Which brought her to the most god-awful ‘catch’ about the Inquisitoriate paying for all of these luxury furnishings. Her she was away from the core on a solo assignment…an undercover job…and she was stuck dressed like a Coruscanti elite. An elegant black dress wrapping around her made of some fabric she’d never heard of before, exquisite shoes and expensive jewelry, her dark hair meticulously straightened, but worst of all was the damn make-up: painted nails, lipstick and all.

All of the Nightmares, except for Y’roth of course, would’ve been doubled over laughing….or starring with the mouths hanging open while Danni laughed at them.

“Thank you very much sir, Jaffry will show you to your room. We hope you enjoy your stay at the Grand Corusca.” Naomi’s tapping slackened as Mr-expensive-silk-suit shuffled of after the bellhop with several assistants hauling a hideous amount of luggage behind. “Welcome to Ord Cantrell. How may I help you, Miss?”

Thank. The. Fracking. Gods.

Naomi put on a smile that probably got the host’s hopes up. Carefully sliding up to the desk, she slipped a purse off of her shoulder.

“Hello, I’m Naomi Lang. I have a registration for an Honored Suite.” She pulled an identification card from the purse and leaned forward on the desk enough to tease the man. He wasn’t that bad looking either, drop the resort uniform and put him in something normal and he could be attractive.

“A moment please” The card disappeared into scanner. “Is this your first visit to our establishment.”

“Oh yes, quite a beautiful planet. And the flowers here are gorgeous, I haven’t seen anything like these on Imperial Center.”

Behind the desk the host, Kail Assiri (at least that’s what the nametag said, flashed a charming smile back. “We pride ourselves on preserving endangered and exotic plants here.”

His attention diverted a moment as the scanner finished processing Naomi’s card. She giggled as the man’s eyes widened slightly at the screen. “Miss Damarind, I…I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that such a prestigious guest would be staying with us.

“Shhhhh.” Naomi cupped a hand over her mouth in flattery, perfectly playing the role Tessa Damarind. The niece of the man who ran an very large and lucrative jewel conglomerate…or so the forged card said. The name would be unknown here in the rim, the corporation usually didn’t bother with the poor regions, but did have a partnership with the resort in hopes of selling to wealthy vacation goers. “Please not so loud Mr. Assiri. Lang, Naomi Lang if you will. I can’t go anywhere in the core without being mobbed, I’d like to keep that from happening here.”

“Of course.” Kail slid the card back with a wink of his eye. Celebrities and corporate figures trying to get out of the limelight. “What brings you to the outer rim if I may ask?”

Naomi daintily tucked the card back in her purse. “Oh, just trying to have a good time away from the crowds. Maybe broaden my entertainment horizons if you know what I mean.”

It hit Kail rather quickly, even with a disguise in the core, the press and tabloids would swarm over Tessa if she did anything if she even strayed within a sector of a club. The wealthy looking to party often traveled to rimward resorts, though they’d usually give the hotels a heads up. Tessa must really be looking to get away.

Naomi glance down bashfully while running her fingers along the counter. Her voice came out low with false innocence. “You wouldn’t happen to know of a lively establishment.?”

Mr. Assiri leaned forward and glanced around before whispering across to Tessa. “I believe the Serrassi Haven would cater to your tastes.”

“Why thank you, perhaps you could show me there later.” Naomi almost laughed at the rise she got out of him. It was so much fun to screw around with the guy’s head. “But if you don’t mind, I’d like to get to my room.”

The host snapped out of it and smiled. “Of course Miss ‘Lang’, you are in the Adagia Suite. May we help you with any baggage?”

Naomi slightly shook her head, keeping her voice low. “Uhm, I have my wardrobe being sent from the starport. Could have a droid send it up, I don’t want to attract to much attention.”

“Of course, it will be sent up immediately. Kaylee will show you to your room.”

For a moment, Naomi turned to follow, but stopped short. “One other thing, if you or any staff see or hear anyone asking about me, could you please tell me about it.”

Kail nodded knowingly, keep the annoyances away. Naomi pulled the same turn away/turn back thing.

“Oh, I really love those Ithorian roses.” She brushed her hand close to his arm and left with a sly grin in his direction before finally turning to follow the impatient guide. Naomi could feel Mr. Assiri’s eyes on her back as she walked.

Hook. Line. And sinker.

[The Black Man]

Assiri's eyes weren't the only one following Naomi as she followed the guide. The sharp eyes of another watched as she headed towards the turbolift, the guide yammering 'this and that' about the hotel and the planet itself.

With a small curse, 'The Black Man' turned his eyes back to his copy of the local HoloNet. It didn't give out much information: tourist attractions, visiting diplomats and celebrities, sports (who could live without that); but it did help his own cover as a businessman. A businessman whose business was spying among other things.

He'd come to Ord Cantrell to finalize the transfer of almost 3.3 Million Credits from the Bank of Aargau to the Rebellion. But that mission would be scrubbed now.

"Kreissing," The Rebel operative spoke low into a comlink, "Tell Karol the meeting is off. We'll reschedule in the next two weeks."

"Copy boss," Kreissing replied, "Something wrong?"

"Maybe. Get Carruthers and Rawl, then meet me here within the hour. We just had ink stain our plans."

"Lovely. See you soon."

[Naomi Lang]

Naomi stepped into the suite as if she were assessing a new house, her eye wandering to every corner. And quite a house it was, a neat three tiers lead up from the entry way with a curling stair case that would have baffled most architects. The first two seemed not much more than parlor and study areas with a neat kitchenette on the second. The top remained remained sealed, the bedroom and such, she mused.

“Is there anything you wish, Miss Lang?”

Naomi moved high-heeled to the broad panoramic view outside. A real outdoor view of the flowing countryside bathed in soft gold light of a soon to be setting sun. She glanced up at the staggered skylight ceiling gazing up at the vibrant azure heavens. Holopanels no doubt, she wasn’t in the top floor, but it was a nice touch.

Resting her hands on the hand rails, a deep breath filled her lungs. Fresh air from outside, free of the stink and pollution that infested Coruscant. It actually felt pleasant. Naomi glanced over her shoulder, enjoying the warm light on her skin.

“No thank you. This is perfect.”

The next half-hour passed slowly with Naomi basking at the window. She did take time to exam her lavish suite, casually strolling along each tier. Inspecting furniture and running her hands along potted plants lining each edge. No Ithorian roses.

She had little time to explore her bedroom tier, though what she did find was beyond her expectations especially having an old-style hydrobath the size of a small room.

As promised, a labor droid appeared, lugging a sizeable mahogany wardrobe in its industrial arms. The thing did seem to be struggling with its load. Naomi gratefully guided the droid to the third tier, instructing it to place the wardrobe in the corner.

With the droid finally out the door and no scheduled interruptions for the next while, a drastic change came over Naomi.

The woman haphazardly dropped her purse on an unused desk with a thud and pulled out a small mechanical device.

After a double check to make sure the machine was turned on….. “DAMN IT! I am going to kill him.” She violently kicked off the high heels into a corner, knowing that the VIP suites were sound proof.

A burning itch burned on her left forearm where a flawless skin graft covered her tattoo. Crestmere had gone and out done himself dressing Naomi up in this hellish getup. How the man put up with his own disguises was beyond her, it was like choking in someone else’s skin.

Naomi padded on barefeet to the wardrobe, pulling open the door a digging through the rows of elegant clothes and tossing them onto the bed. High class my ***. She soon hit the back panel, but instead of turning to the pile behind her, tapped a memorized sequence on the wooden panels.

Low hissing filled the room as seems appeared and cracked apart. The hidden compartment took up the entire height of the wardrobe and was obviously not made of polished mahogany, but reinforced durasteel.

A feral grin crossed Naomi Lang’s face at the sight. From top to bottom were mounted the heavy plates of her personal CMC-300 power armored suit. Sitting atop it all was the emotionless helmet that terrified so many people. Even with its ghostly eyepieces dim shiver pleasurably ran its way up her spine.

To the side hung the other sections of the armor, the grossly modified Russard Enterprises’ body glove and the heavy pack carrying the portable fusion generator and computer relay that was the life-blood of the suit. And below it all lay the massive form of her C-14 Gauss Rifle with its anti-armor module.

But instead of moving for any of this she palmed a tight-beam transmitter, securely disguised and encoded so that no one outside Project Nightmare could decipher it.

“This is agent Lang.” Naomi moved to her bedroom window; her voice controlled in an uncharacteristically military voice. “Stage one is complete.”

A muffled voice responded on the other end, cold and emotionless.

“Yes, Sir. By your command.”

She clicked the device off and gazed out at the spectacular view. The red hue of sunset brought a smile to her face.

[The Black Man]

It didn't take long for the quartet of Rebels to make their plans, in fact, all they had to do was make sure everyone knew their job. Kreissing and Rawl were given the task of alerting 'The Black Man' and Carruthers (who remained in the lobby) if Naomi left her apartment. It'd taken about forty credits and the promise to, "keep things quiet," to Assiri, but he'd acquiesced to their request and they'd been given a room a floor below the Inquisitor's.

"Something wrong?" Carruthers' asked in a Coruscanti accent. He'd been a part of Rebel Special Ops to know when 'The Black Man' wasn't happy.

His boss nodded, "Forty creds isn't enough to guarentee quiet, no matter the location."

"Want me to check 'im out?"

'Othniel' thought a moment and gave a short nod, "Follow him when he leaves. I want to know what he does, when he goes off-shift."

Carruthers gave a broad smile, rose from his seat, and headed towards the main desk. He was halfway there when his ears picked up Assiri saying something.

"--when someone asked about you. A couple gentlemen...earlier. Gotta go," Assiri quickly stopped his transmission and gave a smile to the approaching Rebel, "What can I do for..."

He was suddenly cut off, as Carruthers showed his blaster and gave another smile, "Come with me, boy. We're going upstairs."

'The Black Man' noticed the movement and rose from his seat, heading quickly over to where his partner and the hotel clerk stood.

"Did he get a warning off?" 'The Black Man's' displeased voice stated the obvious as they headed towards the lift.

"He did. Prolly to our little birdie upstairs," Carruthers' lilt was still pleasent to listen to but it was laced with anger. The trio boarded the turbolift and it started rising towards the suite floor.

"What's the meaning of this!" Assiri protested, "Miss Damari-err-Miss Lang, asked to be informed if anyone asked about her."

"You realize Miss Lang is an IMPERIAL INQUISITOR!" 'Othniel's' voice rumbled throughout the lift.

In reality, Land was a member of Project Nightmare, but Assiri didn't know it and 'The Black Man' wasn't in the mood to give out that kind of information. Not to this idiot. "You just blew your own operation as well!"

Assiri's eyes widened, "What operation!?!"

The Black Man's scowl caused him to cringe, "The gun-running operation you run through this building. The one I've turned a blind eye to because it hurt the Imperials. Now, you've just exposed your fly to the whole damn planet!

"Kreissing, Rawl," he spoke into his comlink, "Grab your gear and meet me on the suite level. It's time to pay Lang a visit."

[Naomi Lang]

Lang gingerly set the comm. back onto the receiver and paced the room with her fingers to her temples. She had been having a decent conversation with Kail Assiri when the last bit came up.

"...someone asked about you. A couple gentlemen...earlier."

Only a couple ours into the active mission and the dren was already hitting the fan. This was happening too quickly, she was supposed to have a few days before people started asking questions, after there had been time to set the whole operation up.

Come on girl, focus!

The Inquisitorial agent stared out the window at the darkened landscape and shrouded buildings of the capitol city.

....definately not her unit, they would have made sure to have Assiri pass along the identification phrase. It could be just a random people curiosly asking on after her, after all the Damarind name might have been overheard.

...But you know damn well better than that.

Not once in her time as a Nightmare did something random happen, everything had a purpose behind it and nothing, absolutely nothing could be taken at face value. Project Nightmare and the Inquisitoriate were far too methodical for that to happen (and the rebels weren't that far away either).

Oh well

Naomi slid the window open allowing the warm breeze to flow in. She had changed out of the dress into something more practical, cargo pants with a belt and a loose shirt. To her chargrin, the synth-skin still covered her tattoo, but at least she had made do with the silver necklace hanging around her neck.

It was still covered in brand names that only the well-to-do could afford in bulk, but at least it gave her an endless supply of pockets and the shirt did nicely to hide the compact body armor beneath.

No need to scrap anything yet.

She crossed to the wardrobe, now missing a few minor items, and sealed the hidden compartment before exiting the bedroom. There were obvious shifts in the furniture placement as she descended the stair way down a tier.

Naomi sprawled out onto a couch facing the main door down below and kicked her feet up on an coffee table. She folded her arms across her chest, waiting.

Might actually not be a complication

She hoped that it was, this day had been boring.

[The Black Man]

"Knock," The Black Man ordered.

"What do you mean...knock?!?" Kail Assiri's face, somehow, went even more pale as he stared at the commando group around him. The day had started out so good too. He'd been flirted with by a very gorgeous girl, had another one offer a little something 'special' if she was given a suite, and had an arms deal happening that evening. Now, he was being told the hot chick who'd given him 'the eye' was an Inquisitor and all this by some guy who was spookier than...well anything he'd run into.


"I mean exactly what I say, Assiri," The Director of Rebel Special Operations ordered again, "Knock. Tell her the men who were looking for you were with HoloNet's Entertainment division. Something about a potential show placing her on some backwater planet and having her survive on her own."

His black eyes narrowed into a glare and the hotel porter shuddered.

"Don't do anything more stupid than you all ready have."

Assiri nodded and turned towards the door. The members of whatever this Rebel faction was gathered around the doorframe. They were armored in all black, the mesh weave wrapped tightly around their body so they hardly made a sound. Looked pretty nice too, the arms dealer noticed, as he raised his hand towards the door. He glanced towards 'The Black Man', who'd now donned a black helmet, and tried to smile.

Then he knocked on the door and announced himself.

"Miss Damarin-err-Lang," Assiri cursed himself. Frack his nervousness, "It's Kail Assiri from downstairs.

"May I come in?"

[Naomi Lang]

Ah, there he was. Naomi’s eyes flicked open from her reverie. It wasn’t really a trance or meditation, but something that she’d picked up from being with the Inquisitoriate. It was like clearing her mind long enough to flip a mental switch. Suddenly she wasn’t Naomi Lang anymore, but the Nightmare.

A cold smile crossed her lips, it wasn’t anticipation or anxiousness or any other real emotion, just the knowledge that she was right. The stutter in Kail’s voice, the change in tone. The man was fracking scared.

“Oh, just a moment.” Naomi stretched and stood up, moving the table along with her leg. Just enough noise to give the impression that he had caught her at an inconvenient time.

Her voice changed to a sly pitch, but the hollow remained in her eyes. “I’d have thought you snuck a key or something.”

Naomi ran a hand along her hip, a combat knife flicked out of the waistband. She let the weapon slide and click along the rail was she descended the stair for a bit more noise. Clever to drag Assiri into this, but he was her pawn first.

With final glances around the room, Naomi held the knife in reverse with the blade pressed against her wrist, hidden from view, and flipped the lock.

[The Black Man]

Assiri repeated, a bit nervously, but also in an almost monotone what 'The Black Man' had ordered him to do.

"It w-was people from HoloN-net," Assiri smiled unconvincingly. "They wanted to know about th-the show you are rumored to be d-doing."

Lang had a very odd look in her eyes, one that scared the living Force outta the clerk/arms dealer. She gave a predatory smile and Assiri gulped audibly.

He scratched his head nervously, the poor bastard. "I-I ran 'em off. Just like you asked m-me too. Are you all right? You seem...dis-distracted."

At this, Assiris was tossed aside as the five Rebels stormed into the room, their weapons raised.

"On the ground, Lang! Hands in the fracking air!" 'The Black Man' ordered, "Don't do anything foolish, or by the Emperor's Black Bones, I will shoot you!"

[Naomi Lang]

“Aw, I take it this means no roses?”

Naomi slowly micro-stepped backward, easing her hands into the air with the blade still gripped tight. The predatory grin still never left her face and cold eyes flicked between the five heavily armed agents. Idiots.

The Imperial Agent carefully shuffled another step away from the guns.

“I’d pull the trigger now if I were you.”

One of the rebels to the left of ‘the black man’ stepped around to better surround her so she could couldn’t duck to the side. Everything simple and by the book. And that was the poor fool’s mistake, the Inquisitoriate never….ever…played by the book.

His foot broke through a laser trip wire hidden on this backside of nearby couch leg. Around the entrance, glaring red lights flashed to life on several incendiary charges.

“Too late.”

[The Black Man]

'Othniel/Wekom/The Black Man' leaped forward as the explosions tore through the room. His path took him towards Naomi, but she delicately slid to the side and he missed her. Outside of that, Lang made no movement.

Carruthers was bathed in flames and fell to the floor, while Kreissing (who'd been stupid enough to trigger the alarm) and Rawl dodged the explosion but still lay stunned on the ground. Assiri simply scuttled towards the wall, wondering what the hell he'd gotten himself into.

The SpecOps Director rolled and came to his feet quickly.

"I don't fear you, Lang," his voice was full of bitterness. Now that it was the two of them, he could (essentially) speak openly.

"Are you still Valten's bitch? Or are you carving your own piece of the galaxy?"

[Naomi Lang]

How does he...How DARE he.

Naomi’s eyes widened and for a brief moment filled with anger. But it soon faded away, the Nightmares conditioned themselves above emotion, and the smile was back on her face.

“Ouch.”

She brought the blade into an aggressive position and began pacing in an arc around the man. This one knew what he was doing, maneuvering himself in a position that negated her options, both the door and the stairs where risky.

Not afraid of her? Good, she’d had enough dealing with pathetic bleating.

“Hahaha, what about you? Big boss Belargic pulling your strings? You, me, the flower boy over there, and this damn room…there may be different people behind the marionettes, but we’re still dancing to the same frelling tune.”

Naomi advanced in a flash, slashing low with the blade, testing his ability. She wasn’t the best of the Nightmares in hand-to-hand, but she was well versed enough in martial arts, her time with SpecOps commandos saw to that.

At range, he had the advantage with his weapon. But up close she had the upper hand, even without her suit.

[The Black Man]

The Rebel didn't even bother to shoot. Moving quickly, he swung the butt of his rifle towards the Nightmare's head. She blocked it, then swatted it from his armored hands.

The Black Man's elbow came up towards her head and caught her in the chin.

"It depends on what music is playing, Lang. And who does the composing."

[Naomi Lang]

A sharp pain shot up Naomi’s neck as her head snapped back, the man knew how to give a hit. But Naomi had easily taken worse in her practice spars against the other nightmares. Instead of trying to shove the pain aside, she embraced it and let the momentum take her. Another of the black man’s strikes flew harmlessly past her and Naomi rolled away no worse for the wear.


The Imperial shifted her jaw, keeping her eyes on her opponent. She turned her side, spinning the knife in her fingers, a motion that covered or opposite hand sneaking into a pocket.


“Alright. Who was it that arranged our little tune?” Naomi crouched low, knife hand forward and the other trailing, concealing a tiny disk she had withdrawn. “From here it looks like you’re of beat.”


Without warning, Naomi spun the opposite direction and flung the object at the man. The thing was her own design, and her reason for being with the Nightmares. There wasn’t anything that Naomi couldn’t turn into an explosive, and those small things packed a punch.

[The Black Man]

'Othniel' ducked and the explosive sailed harmlessly over his head. It lodged itself into the wall by the giant open window, before exploding and showering all the occupants with glass, wood, and durasteel. 'The Black Man' was thrown foward (again) and felt searing heat as it singed his face and cropped hair.

He slowly rose to his feet and noticed the Nightmare was standing there cackling like some witch, a wild look in her eyes.

The Rebel glowered at her, before shoving debris off his armored arms and chest. It was then he realized his ears were ringing and everything sounded like it was five miles away.

"Rawl," his voice sounded oddly muted, "Drop her."

[Naomi Lang]

“Krasstkrasstkrasst!” Assiri pressed his back against the wall and prayed to a god he didn’t believe in. One of the rebels (they had to be rebel, right?) was doing his best roasted-marshmallow impression while two of the others were sprawled out cold. Tessa or Damarind or who-ever-the-hell she was and the big guy where duking it out near the stairs.


A chunk of the ceiling gave way and showered him in flames. Assiri raised an arm to ward the sparks from his eyes. What the hell had he gotten himself into? As soon as he got out of this mess he was going to make sure he worked a different post.


The hotel employee-gun runner started crawling on his hand and knees. Sooner or later the fire was going to spread and he was going to be around for that, or for when one side finally beat the other.


A second explosion ripped through the room and sent him rolling towards the door. Out of the corner of his eyes, Assiri caught sight of one of the downed rebels coming to. He heard the big guy say something and the one on the ground aimed his pistol at the woman.


Assiri scrambled to his feet and stumbled out the door into the cool air of the hallway. The awkward ‘squawk’ of a blaster on stun echoed behind him, but he didn’t spare a glance.

[The Black Man]

"Shoot her again and make sure she's down," The Black Man stated, his voice still muted in his ears, as he strode towards Assiri. "Then grab her. We're leaving."

He paused by Assiri, who was collecting his thoughts outside the room.

"If you even breathe a word of this to your girlfriend, boyfriend, wife, mother, father...even a statue. I'll know.

"And I'll be back."

Assiri hurried down the hall and ran out.

'The Black Man' was far from happy about the operation. He refused to leave the bodies of his squad mates behind, even if there had to be an explanation for the damage. To cover it, 'Othniel' broke a gas pipe in the hotel room, letting its noxious fumes start to fill the room. A few minutes later, an alarm sounded and the hotel evacuated.

No one paid mind to the dark-skinned hotel employee exiting the service entrance, even it if was slightly odd he had a laundery bag fully stocked. When asked, the man simply shrugged, muttered something about, "Guests wanting their clothing smelling fresh..." and went on.

* * *

Two Hours Later

They were in a small safehouse, waiting extraction off planet (which was scheduled for another ten minutes). The Rebellion's Director of Special Operations stood with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

"Wake up," he slapped the trussed up Nightmare across the face, "You have two minutes to convince me why I shouldn't leave your body for Valten to find.

"Talk."

[Karl Valten]

Naomi relaxed back twisting her wrists…testing. “Oh come on, holo-vids much?” The Inquisitorial agent glanced around the room as much as her bindings let her. Nothing distinctive to identify, a few crates here and there and a couple poorly maintained light. Probably a temporary joint in a warehouse basement.

She turned to grin in her own twisted way.

“You’ve got the bad-cop routine to a ‘T’. Hair’s wrong, though. Ever thought of using a wig?” Naomi’s head spun, definitely not a slap this time. Violent for a rebel, really not fitting the image. She liked that.

“Sixty seconds, you want it on the left cheek next time?”
The guy knew how to throw a punch that hurt like hell, but oh she was enjoying this wayyyyy too much. A look of mock excitement played across her face, like hyper sorority girl.

“Oh, let me help. We could write a screen play….” Naomi coughed and put on her darkest glare and most spite-filled voice. “…If you wanted to kill me I’d already be dea…..”

*CRACK* “Fifteen.” Now that one really hurt, not just a sting. PAIN!
Naomi hung sat limp as her ache tingled itself away, the blow probably drew blood. It didn’t bother her. She just sat as the black man counted down the last few seconds. The thought crossed her mind. He would kill her, his voice wasn’t getting frantic, definitely not a civi wreck.

“...four…three…”

He was reaching for pistol. Before his hand could touch blaster, Naomi sat up and tossed her hair. Her tone hollow and dead serious.

“You are not going to kill me because you know who I am and who I work for. The prospect of even getting an iota of information outweighs the security risk...” Naomi yawned to flex her jaw. “Only thing is no one knows who I am, any other agent you would have let wander by. Which begs the question, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Ominous, what part of this freak-show of ours are you playing?”

(OOC: weird, I was just logged in as Naomi, sorry 'bout that)

[The Black Man]

"Point taken."

'The Black Man' took two steps back and shot her with his blaster. Naomi fell limp to the groung, blood oozing from her lips and the back of her head.

It had been a stun blast, of course, but that didn't matter. The Nightmare hadn't completely given him the answer he was looking for, but it was enough to keep her alive.

"Pick up's here," Rawl reported from the door, still wincing from his wounds.

"Good. Let's go."

* * *

The Frigate Remembering the Republic-- En Route to Mon Calamari

The black-haired Imperial woke up, her jaw still smarting. There was a bacta patch in front of her and she tried to reach for it...only to discover her arms were still tied behind her back.

'The Black Man' sat in a chair, firmly latched to the floor, and watched her attempt to heal herself. Even if she did get to it, the bacta patch was empty.

"How many Nightmares are there? Who provides the technology to complete your armor?"

[Naomi Lang]

Ord Cantrell – a few hours earlier

Sergeant Redmond kept low in the shadows, his black armor blending in perfectly with the dark. The built in macrobinoculars of his helmet zoomed in on the rebel safehouse in a rundown district of De-Purteen. On his HUD white diamonds automatically highlighted occasional passerby, the diamond over the one leaning against the wall smoking a cigarette shifted to red

“One confirmed rebel out front.” He transferred the data to his squad through their neural network with only a thought. Redmond glanced around, green diamonds revealed the positions of allies hidden in the shadows. “Snipers hold position; get a continuous feed to Jeffers. I want a TACMAP up in twenty seconds.”

In two years with the Inquisitoriate, the sergeant considered himself a hardened veteran. It took a different breed of soldier to survive, physically and mental, the rigors he was put through. Maybe a few weeks longer and he could get decent command position and get off the frontlines. The current op didn’t help, though; his squad had been torn from their post in the core by a guy just calling himself The Agent. He’d heard of their kind before in rumors, not part of the agency and not part of the Inquisitor ranks….and both groups were wary of them. It didn’t help that there were Nightmares with him when Redmond and his squad boarded the transport.

“Agent, we’re in position. If the schedule is right they transport will be her….”

"…in six minuters." How did he do that? Redmond had only seen the man once, ever since, all he’d had was neural transmissions. Even the Nightmares had vanished from sight. All that had been said was that the squad should keep watch over the building. Nothing more, nothing less. ”Report.”

“Four confirmed inside, they may have more. Once back up is here we can storm the house on your orders.”

”You already have your back up, Sergeant.” Redmond caught motion in his peripheral and spun his weapon about.

*Thwack*

The rifle stopped sharp and the sergeant couldn’t make it budge. Eyes wide and heart racing, Redmond found himself staring into the ghostly blue eye pieces of a Nightmare. His rifle held stationary in its armored glove. The Nightmare let the weapon go and turned towards the safehouse.

How the hell did something that big move so quietly? It hadn’t even shown up of the infrared sensors.

"Change of plans. You are not to make a move until after they leave. Enter and burn the building to the ground."

Redmond was utterly confused along with the rest of his squad spread out. Next to him the Nightmare just drew an over-sized gun from the holster on its pack. Redmond was surprised to hear a relatively upbeat voice break over his headset.

“Lang is going be angry about that, Sir.”

"You have your orders, Lieutenant"

“Acknowledged.” Behind the cold blue-steel of the Nightmare gear, 1^st Lieutenant Ylor Jerrard smiled slightly, Naomi would be expected a last minute rescue attempt, she was probably already mouthing off to the rebel scum. But as always, the alliance threw a hydrospanner into the works.

Ylor clicked the riot suppression module into place on his C-14 rifle. Instantly, a notice blinked to life on his HUD signaling that the suit recognized the new settings. The helmet could display anything he needed: ammo gauge, compass, status indicators for the suit and his own health, aiming reticule, motion trackers, comm frequencies, IFF trackers, maps, holonet-uplink…though carrying the miniature fusion reactor on his back made him nervous every once in a while.

Even so, the Nightmare pulled the clip out of his weapon and manually checked the magazine. Machines break, eyes don’t. At the same time Ylor opened a private channel to the Agent, as they were supposed to call him anyway. “How you holding out, Victor?”

In a darkened alley on the other side of De-Purteen, a figure sulked through the shadows, his features hidden from view. The man paused against a wall and raised a tight-beam comm. to his mouth. “Assiri is giving me a bit of a headache. The idiot is in the rambling phase, he’ll learn his place with the rest of them.”

“He’s not going to be a problem?”

A hollow laugh echoed through the alley. The man stepped into the light. Dressed in the professional attire of a hotel employ, albeit singed in several places. Assiri had a different gait to him, fluid and powerful and his voice noticeably altered.

“No, he’s pathetically weak.” Assiri pulled knife from his pocket and began cutting away at the skin on his neck. There was no blood.

“So what was the change of plans for? Naomi is going to skin you when we get her back.”

The skin at Assiri’s neck tore and he put the blade away. Gripping at the frayed tissue, he began pulling the mask from his skin. Free from the disguise, Captain Victor Crestmere, second in command for Project Nightmare, throwing the synthetic flesh aside.

He didn’t say anything in response to Ylor, instead he pulled up a file from his neural implant and gave the mental command to send it to the Lieutenant’s HUD. The file was a simple picture of a dark skinned man idly sitting in a hotel lobby with a newspaper.


* * * * ********

Naomi eyed the bacta patch lying out of her reach. She glanced up at the black man.

“Bastard!”

The room she woke to was a spartan durasteel cell with a refresher unit sitting in a corner and a bare cot along the back. On the ceiling the ventilation shafts and glow panels where covered with wire mesh and the other walls where definitely airtight. A low thrumming hummed in the rum accompanied with a consistent vibrations and the air smelled stale, recycled. Starship with a real brig. Definitely a military vessel, probably a corvette or frigate.

“Enough with the bantha dren, the test questions are just annoying.” Naomi sighed, she was well aware of interrogation methods. “You probably know the answers to those questions.” Naomi leaned forward, as well as one can with her hands tied up, her voice was sweet and innocent.

“Since I don’t know the answer to the first, I bet that’s the one you don’t either. Why so interested in ghost stories, most people try to avoid the dark?”

[The Black Man]

A tight smile came to 'Othniel's' face. She had indeed been trained by Valten.

"Very well," he stated simply, moving the bacta patch an inch closer to her fingertips, although it was still out of reach.

He decided to play a hunch.

"Who is the traitor in the Alliance.

"Tell me now and maybe I'll let you have the bacta patch."