Cad Bane - The Concept of Trust

What happened to him?

As Nevar left without further incidents Her attention turned back to the Nikta drink She had been craving for. Just as She reached for it Bane set his hand over Her glass, and looked at Her sternly.

"You promised to tell," he exclaimed, holding Her drink as a hostage, dragging it out of Her reach. It took a moment before She understood what Bane meant.

"I only promised that because I was sure you had forgotten it by the time we got into any bar." She had a half-amused, half-vexed look on her face, as She was trying to get Bane to surrender Her drink in vain.

Bane took the Nikta even further away, and glared at Her tantalisingly.

"...I trusted you." The words were expressed deliberately slowly, and in a serious tone.

"Now that is abusing the word," She retaliated, pointing Her finger at the Duros. Bane had taken a liking to use that word against Her, knowing how much it meant to Her.

"Does it work, though?" Bane was smirking, having both their glasses on his end.

"...Maybe... Give me my drink and I will consider."

"Great. Any means to achieve the goal!. Now tell." Bane slid Her drink back, and headed towards a table.

"Fine..." She ordered a bottle of Nikta to be delivered to them, and walked after Bane, watching the Duros' wolflike gait and wiry frame. He seemed very pleased with how he had played it out. She chuckled. Bane was definitely in a good mood after their mission.

They sat in a private compartment on the side of the bar, and She leaned back, sitting against now genuinely curious Duros.

"I've been waiting for way too long that you'd spill your beans about that bastard. Make it good."

She raised Her boots on the table. Tonight She felt comfortable telling that story. The booze probably has something to do with it... She looked at Bane, whose legs were also comfortably resting on the tabletop, had a glass on his lap, and was earnestly awaiting for Her to start. She exhaled and took a sip. Here we go...

When She had been in a good enough shape to leave the wretched planet behind with the help of the Biths, revenge was the last thing on Her mind. She had been barely able to walk, let alone plan anything. It took months of licking Her wounds, laying in the bunk, and staring at the wall before She was able to do anything else than mourn the loss of Her team, and the end of an era She had grown to love. But, as the time passed by, She noticed how the grief was pushed aside time and again by waves of anger. Staring at the wall changed to shooting practice, anger was vented to countless hours of gaining back Her stamina and strength. The constellation of wounds on Her back amended to a map of pale scars. She returned to do what She was good at, doing both merc work, and also starting as a bounty hunter, but didn't even consider being part of any group anymore. Hell no. She began to shun using Her name unless mandatory, subconsciously wanting to leave the past behind with it. And, it wasn't like there was much use for the name anymore, most contractors accepted Her pseudonyme without blinking. She kept on Her own, and did Her jobs solitarily. She thought that time would heal the wounds, but learned that forgiveness wasn't one of Her virtues. Maybe She had picked that up from Thelon, who knows. As time went by, the nightmares woke Her up too often, the faces of Her teammates in them calling Her name became too vivid. Maybe She needed resolution.

It was hard to track down any information about Nemdat and his team. She knew how well all of their information was kept hidden when working for the separatists, and She definitely didn't want to stir that pot too much. She didn't want to go back. Not anymore. Finally, the breadcrumbs lead Her in the right direction. She had been looking the wrong way all the time. Nemdat had never returned to the separatists. On the contrary, She found out that every member of his team, and also everyone they had been rescuing were killed back there that very day. The Devaronian alone had somehow managed to get away, and had been laying low after that. Makes sense... Separatists were not the most forgiving employer... She followed the scent of the scumbag, and the trail led Her to Tatooine. All the mudcrutches who wanted to disappear seemed to end up there. After some reconnaissance She learned where the Devaronian dwelled, and the bars he was idling away his hours. She was careful not to be seen. The first time She saw Nemdat Jent it was so close She didn't shoot the drunk man right where he was standing, but it felt too easy. Too benevolent, that the man wouldn't even know he'd be dying and why. She felt an unfamiliar feeling stirring in Her. It was cruelty towards this man, and though She winced at Her own thoughts She then welcomed them, like the faces in Her mind wouldn't let Her rest otherwise.