Jirettai stood over her body, no smile on his face as was his normal custom. No madness to his eyes and anger burning in his heart. This had hurt him. It had been necessary, of course, but it had hurt. He had to rid of himself of all past attachments. Of anything he may have once loved. The drip of crimson from his finger tips echoed over the sound of crackling and fizzling electronics.

No sound came from Tragoni, the AI who's voice he had silenced within the penthouse. Somewhere below he was certain alarms were blaring, footfalls in the hallway up the stairs. He'd already seen to the lift to keep anyone from getting there quickly enough. He bent, fingertips, slick with blood still closing the perfectly made up eyelids of the once beautiful Cizerack that lay at his feet.

"Sorry, Ms. Sasseeri. But the time has come for me to put away childish things." Somewhere in the distance someone screamed.

Mike sat bolt upright in bed, a pool of sweat drenching his sheets as his own screams woke him up. That frelling dream again. That absolute nightmare. He couldn't do that, he wouldn't. It wasn't going to happen, it wasn't. He grabbed for a pack of deathsticks nearby, hands shaking as he pulled one out to light. He hated the habit. Hated the taste, hated the smell, but these nightmares had become more frequent and they were the only thing that calmed his nerves when they woke him up. He couldn't afford to take the edge off with alcohol. He still had work later.

He checked his chrono. Frell was it only 1? He didn't need to be up for another 4 or 5 hours. He got up and walked to the refresher, running the sonics to clean himself up. He hated that dream. Hated it. It had started a few months ago after meeting the former Sith Order operative Zereth Lancer again after so many years. Lancer had changed himself in the time since that Order had destroyed his group of friends, and left Cline aware of how much blood was still on his hands in the process.

The interaction had brought him face to face with how mindlessly angry he could be, how much it'd taken to listen to the man instead of killing him. Mike had never finished his training and it seemed the stronger he got with the Force, with the darkside, the more he lost his hold on it and found himself consumed by it.

He finished the deathstick and dropped it in the lavatory, flushing it away as he headed back to bed. Could have been worse. Could have been the other dream.

Morning came too soon and he was out the door for another day doing what he loved for the company that had taken him in when he had nothing. He approached the Cumulus Casino noticing an event happening out front, and what seemed to be Imperial Officers closing off the sidewalk. No big deal, Mike would just go around. He darted into a side alley and found himself face to face with blonde hair, a square jaw and a no-nonsense frown.

"Michael Cline?" The Imperial Knight, Captain Empire and the epitome of the Empire's propoganda asked him. Mike blanched. "...Yeah?" The Knight took a step forward. "Could you come with me please, we have some questions about former associates of yours... and about you, yourself." Cline took a step back. "What questions, I really gotta get into work..." A figure blocked the alley the other way and Cline turned to see a large Selonian tower overhead. The blonde talked again. "About why you never registered... and the whereabouts of the rest of your fellow adepts." Cline's vision shot back at Captain Empire, wide and fearful. "No. NO. NO!" He insisted, force wrapping into the muscles of his legs as he bent then jumped, vertically to the roof of the first story building beside them. "We are 100% not doing this!" He snapped, running from the alley. He'd get to Sasseeri. She'd know what to do she'd... a pair of figures stepped out ahead of him, a red Twi'lek and a Nehantite, flanked by several troops each. He skidded to a halt and turned back to the other direction. Poster boy was already there, stalking forward. To the adjoining rooftop? A large paw came over the side between them to block that direction to.

"Michael Cline. Known force adept. Associate of Darth Sudoku. You are under arrest under Imperial Adept Doctrine 1b, subsection..."
A siren blared in the background.

Cline sat up again, rapid blinking at the second nightmare of the night. His morning alarm was echoing in his small apartment and he decided that was enough sleep for the forseeable future. This was a two caf morning and hiding his eyes behind sunglasses the rest of the day, kind of day.