“So, Mr. Taipan, as the Watcher, who sometimes works solo and sometimes with others, you didn’t really state what you do for a living, nor did you divulge your home world or address on Coruscant. Normally, I wouldn’t delve so deeply into your personal business. However, you did say something that piqued my interest.” Mateus stroked his chin in what he believed to be a very Jedi-like pose while he worded his next sentence carefully. “You say you knew he was a Jedi due to his lightsaber. However, your logic for this had to do with your previous experiences. I find that very interesting, so I would like for you to elaborate on these previous experiences, as well as your occupation as the Watcher.”

His instincts told him that this man was trying to hide something besides his decorated background. As he had supposed, all was not as it seemed. The “Jedi attack” definitely did not seem to be a random act of violence... Mateus frowned as he thought about that and connected it with what the “victim” had said.

“You said that this man was different, that he seemed to be on a mission of some sort. What did you mean by that? You believe you were targeted specifically?” he inquired, half listening to what the man would say. He, however, made sure to keep a tentative expression upon his face as he tried to piece together the clues. As soon as he had the complete story here, he would need to track down a certain member of the police force...

Added (14 Mar 2010, 9:35 Am)
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][OOC Since it has been well over the alloted time of four days since a last post has been made I am going to move this along for storyline purposes and to get the rp on the move in general. post will be comming soon][

His apartments, a good twenty floors of an immense skyscraper, were guarded by a ruthless band of handpicked mercenaries and bodyguards from across the galaxy. The only thing, it seemed, that Dimitri had going for him was their unwillingness to call for help from the New Republic Security Forces. Unlike the need for secrecy in prior missions, this one would have to be straight and to the point.

The fact that Dimitri was not superhuman was reminded to him as he crouched behind an ornate column on the fifth floor, pinned down for the moment by a group of perhaps ten accurate shooters. The four floors below him were marked with battle signs and dead or crippled men. It had been inevitable that they's eventually pin him into a tight spot. Across the hall waited the open doors of a lift; a lift that could circumvent a running battle. Getting to it before they brought out heavy artillery was going to be an issue. Then again, perhaps he could use it to his advantage.

As if by answered prayer, he spied three men rushing up behind his attackers, one carrying a highly illegal rocket launcher. Clearing a spot for the man, who took a knee and proceeded to take aim, the men slackened their fire briefly, giving Dimitri his opening. As the rocket-armed man aimed and fired, Dimitri threw himself out into the hall, pushing out with the Force at the warhead and shoving it back at the attackers. Rolling with his movement, unable to tell if his deflection was successful as the warhead exploded, he gained the lift.

The doors slammed close and he began to rise upwards.

Added (28 Mar 2010, 0:30 Am)
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Checking himself for holes, Dimitri was satisfied when he found none on his person. That was a definate plus. He'd half expected the lift tube to be sealed off. As to why it was working, he could not say, save for the possible fact that he might have blitzed them so fast that they hadn't had the time to shut down the tube and, by his previous trajectory, he'd planned to go floor by floor. That much had changed obviously.

He'd had hope that he'd make it to the top floor without incident, but it was not to be. On foor 18, the lift came to a stop, the doors sealed shut. Pushing at the buttons would not make it work, so he reached the conclusion they had cut the power to the lift and were massing outside the door. That wouldn't do at all. He'd have to come for them.

Stabbing through the unarmored doors, Dimitri hacked a large rent, then swung in a circular motion before withdrawing his weapon and rolling through the hole to come to his feet, ready for anything.

Added (30 Mar 2010, 5:08 PM)
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Dimitri closed his eyes, feeling the thin padding of the booth beneath his bruised form. Daybreak would soon be here. Sliding his hand down along his cape, he felt the large tear where a lightsaber's blade had almost taken his life, for a second time this night. Closing his eyes for a moment, he thought back to the events that had transpired less than an hour before.

After his foolish leap through the door, Maximov had been surprised to find no guards on the floor. This had continued until he reached the penthouse level, whereupon he was attacked quite savagely by a pack of teenaged, saber-wielding humans. Only three had borne lightsabers, the remainder had been armed with some form of cortosis-infused swords, for his own blade had not severed any attacking weapon.

The battle had raged into the penthouse itself, where, pressed against a large window, barely holding his own and staring down the muzzle of a large concussion rifle wielded by his mark, Dimitri had thrown caution to the wind, tapped into his darker aspect, and utilized one of the most powerful dark-side Force abilities he knew. The sphere of destruction had annihilated the room; torn bodies were strewn about, of that much he was certain. He could not be sure, though he knew they had all been slain. Verification was impossble though, because the backblast of the sphere had thrown him from the building. Falling to his death had seemed his fate, but Coruscant's heavy sky traffic offered plenty of handholds, and a garbage scow had broken his fall, if not helped him to smell better.

There was only one piece remaining. He felt as if he would not have the strength to carry on, but he knew he had to.

Added (02 Apr 2010, 8:17 Am)
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The communicator on Dimitri's wrist beeped, letting him know his shadowy employers had the final bits of information for him. Looking over the text data, he inhaled involuntarily. It all tied together now; the accountant who had financed all the operations with stolen monies, the priest who was to bring together a cult; a priest who had received Jedi training but washed out as a padawan and continued to learn on his own and finally the slaver-businessman who brought the children to be trained as Force adepts. The final piece led to a high-ranking Ambassador from Coruscant to Ryloth and Corellia, as well as one or two smaller worlds. He'd been building a Force cult to gain power and leverage. It was the end of the path.

This wasn't likely to be a good hunt; the man would not only have any Force adepts that had gone his way, but New Republic security would be at his beck and call if needed, which would prevent him from entering or easily leaving the man's well-protected apartments. Wholesale destruction then, was the only option. Taking a deep breath and grunting from the pain of injuries taken, Dimitri limped out from the cantina, headed for the docking bay where his ship awaited.

Added (09 Apr 2010, 11:01 PM)
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Dimitri Maximov closed his eyes, letting himself sink into the comfortable pilot's chair on his modified Firespray. The last twelve hours, or thereabouts, had been so physically and mentally demanding that he was drifting off almost before he was seated fully. As he drifted off, the ending of his assigned mission replayed itself within his mind, speaking of his success.

The building in which Ambassador Fallon resided was a rather immense structure. It was an easy matter once aboard the Fist of the Suns to stand off at a distance close to ten miles and still paint it from an angle with an infrared laser. With all of Coruscant's air traffic, that alone was easy, as one vessel hovering for a brief time was of no notice.

What would be a rather noticeable item was the VT-49 Decimator that was the second half of his team unleashing a barrage of ten concussion missiles into the building as it blew past, heading up and out for the atmosphere. It would be gone before reports of the attack even came in and, considering neither vessel was broadcasting an IFF, would be quite hard to track. From his vantage point though, Dimitri watched the building collapse into rubble. Ambassador Fallon was most likely dead and with him, his plot. Dimitri turned his vessel and moved for space.

As he sank deeper into sleep, Dimitri smiled. It was a job well done.