Phantom Chasing Phantoms...

[Tearen Wover]

Well. That settled that. Nealaphh now had no choice but to find a secret way into the deeper levels of Coruscant. Still, the god-mind would be remiss to harbor any sort of self pity for its decision in letting Rebecca go with Okor. The girl was not necessary to the success of its current objective, and it would be better for her to get out of the Vasty Deep, where she was likely being sought after by Rapture, if the latest postings on the Bounty Boards were anything to go by. Limiting itself to a single option for the success of any given task was not thinking like a true god-mind. Nealaphh would have to hold this thought closer to its core in the future. Ever since coming to the Omniverse and being isolated to this singular form, the shadow could gradually feeling the vast faculties of its mental patterns regressing to that of a more mortal ken. It was everything in Nealaphh's power to be able to keep accumulating Omnilium quickly enough so as to be able to reconstruct its internal structure to accommodate the true vastness of its mental capabilities. In that regard, it was important for Nealaphh to plan out where it was going to go now.

Okor had proven to be a dead-end when it came to finding a secret route, contrary to what had been hoped, but that did not mean that no such route existed. Dealing with hypotheticals was something that a god-mind such as Nealaphh excelled at, due to his ability to process a vast amount of variables all at the same time. Ultimately, the most important goal to establish was getting the raw materials for the Gigaton Hammer in to Coruscant. If Nealaphh was unable to locate a secret gate, it could, potentially, smuggle the goods into Coruscant through the gate in Carrefore, but being that the cargo was going to be shipped alongside frozen produce, it might become slightly more conspicuous. After all, it wasn't often that food items were shipped out of the Endless Dunes. Still, it was better than trucking it in directly through the usual channels. The alternative would be to try and negotiate the shipment of less high profile cargo to travel alongside the Goron ore, but this would take more time than the alternative and would have no guarantee of success versus the prior option.

None of this was pertinent, however, until the god-mind was sure that a better option was not available, and Nealaphh was not at that point yet. Given the dramatic nature of The Smiling One's ideal world, it was likely that the gate would be located in a hard to reach or exotic location. Continuity was, however, also important, at least as far as Nealaphh could tell. As such, a gate to a highly technological Verse such as Coruscant was unlikely to be in a wild or natural setting...though it wasn't completely impossible. Tier Four was less technologically advanced than other levels of the city, however, so that was also a variable to take in to consideration. Honestly, it was seeming as though the most likely place to search for such a Gate would be back in the city of Rapture. This was a poor option, for a multitude of reasons, however. The god-mind needed a location that it could enter without any notice of any sort being taken. There had to be another option. Blue Flame Island came to mind. Being a haven for pirate activity, there was a very large likelihood that any number of rogue factions had managed to erect a gate that would serve Nealaphh's needs.

This would require some negotiation, but at least brigands were easier to deal with (and more predictable) than the Empire. The god-mind would likely have to try and cement relations with one of the more powerful pirate captains stationed on the island, which would probably require raising its bounty to even higher levels than they already were. This would have to be a note of caution, as the islands' inhabitants would probably very much enjoy trying to take Nealaphh's life if they were aware of the vast price on its head. On the other hand, given the nature of the island and the verse as a whole, the level of technological exposure, let lone literacy, left much to be desired on a lawless island such as Blue Flame. If nothing else, it would serve as a decent base of operations as Nealaphh conducted further searches into possible locations for an illicit gate.

Settled on a plan of action, the shadow spent a few minutes conjuring its tetragonal oceanic transport once more, slowly wading into the waves and letting the water soak deep into its heavy black robe. The shining, black glass polygon sank away into the chum ridden waves beyond the shoreline of the nameless atoll just east of Costa Del Sol, carrying with it a mind that still worked furiously in an attempt to mitigate the collected sum of its knowledge. After a few waves lapped at the edge of the fluffy sand, any trace of the space marines, Nealaphh or its erstwhile charge were erased completely...

[Tearen Wover]

Bilgewater was a relatively simple place. Far removed from the idyllic and pleasant streets of Costa Del Sol, the main port city on Blue Flame Island was primarily comprised of simple wooden building and the occasional old stone fort, or mill. The local populace avoided any sort of ostentatious overtones in their dress and daily activities...partly because revelry was an expensive habit, and partly because it was usually not a good idea to draw attention to one's self on the island that was notorious for piracy and questionable business. Still, some of these people were more than willing to flaunt their success. Most of them were owners of lucrative brewing or 'shipping' trades that brought a majority of Blue Flame's income in to Bilgewater. One such lord was not, in fact, a lord, but a Lady. In fact, her name was, indeed Lady. Lady Jereson. The cosmic circumstances that had led a woman of her name to her current status were as inscrutable as Omni's stare, but she didn't question it. After all, having been summoned into the Omniverse alongside the rest of much of the population of Blue Flame island as a simple street urchin of nine years, one had to be quite sure of themselves to be able to progress into the echelons of underworld bourgeoisie. But that was a story for another time.

Currently, Lady had a problem. In the cut-throat world that was large-scale piracy, it was easy to hit large roadblocks, and very few were larger than Leto Notrian. Aside from the fact that he was a corpulent mass of quivering skin folds and stinking recesses, he was also the island's richest smuggling lord. Lady had been trying her own hand at the smuggling trade for quite some time now, but every time she thought she had a good route or system in place, Leto somehow cut her off or stole the business. She didn't know what his secret was, but all attempts to surveil his place of operations had ended in dead two-bit spies, that is, if they didn't disappear completely.

What Lady did know was Leto's business; he specialized in smuggling people. One might think that the issue of cheap and willing labor would be a problem in the Omniverse, given that most of the people in power could summon servants on a whim. As time had gone on, however, many Secondaries had risen to such places of prominence within their relative spheres of influence that they did require this kind of easily acquired labor. The second question one might have on the matter, was a question of why Secondaries needed to be smuggled at all. The Omniverse was largely a lawless land and outside the scrutiny of any sort of organization that might care. This was actually a question that Lady did not have an answer to, and she wanted one badly. What was clear, however, was the fact that Leto managed to pull a hefty profit from it and his clients always apparently paid in Omnilium. She needed someone to figure all of this out and, if possible, put Leto out of business. Permanently.

Unfortunately, as the sun set over the glistening waters of the Vasty Deep and the gulls sang their nightly dirge, there was little chance of finding help any time soon. The small wooden balcony looking over a private inlet on the north side of the island hung precariously over the side of a five hundred foot drop, and heavy shadows laid upon the sea of rippling palm leaves that surrounded the two adjacent hills. The gray, sandy beach far below was rimmed with the white froth of a rising tide, with large boulders born from the aging granite bluffs above peeking just barely above the perpetual kneading motion of the slow waves. Lady to the final sip of her evening's drink and headed back into her luxury manor, ready for an early bedtime.

...

It was night. Beneath the inky waters that surrounded Blue Flame Island like an oppressive veil, Nealaphh brooded from within its submersible tetrahedron. Finding an appropriate disguise to keep attention away from itself while on the island would be difficult, as it would require the shadow to have its face covered at all time. The God-Mind had been browsing through pictures of the local populace, posted to the Dataverse from erstwhile visitors, in order to get an idea of how to accomplish this first step in its discovery of an illicit portal to Coruscant. Headwear was common for residents of the island, which was a good start, as well as certain fineries such as gloves and clothing that concealed a majority of a humanoid's body. The only trouble that persisted was the matter of finding a method of covering its luminescent eyes while still allowing itself to see with an appreciable degree of clarity. The shadow often wondered if it was The Smiling One who had chosen its current form, or if it had been as a result of some inner inability to reconcile between many of the different bodies it inhabited in the timeline of its old Multiverse. There was no point in speculating about it at this point, though. There was a problem that needed to be solved. Furthermore Nealaphh could not communicate verbally, which would also prove to be conspicuous. Perhaps it would behoove the shadow to work on the creation of a blank Secondary shell which it could inhabit indefinitely. It had worked well with Rebecca, so Nealaphh had no reason to suspect it wouldn't work with a body of its own creation. With no better recourse, the shadow willed its submarine polygon towards the shoreline.

The spot that Nealaphh chose to come ashore was secluded, but also near enough to the town of Bilgewater that traveling to the port city once the body was completed would not be unduly arduous. Within a small marine cave that had, over the course of millennia, been carved into the dense rock of the island, the God-Mind set to work with its Omnillium. Creating a human body to inhabit was, in and of itself, simple, though creating the facial features to be generic enough to forget was a tad difficult. More Dataverse reference was required. No, the most difficult part of making the body was giving it a mind and a will to live, without actually giving it proper sentience. Nealaphh could not simply give the corpus a token intelligence and expect it to function flawlessly. Rebecca had been different; her mind had been conditioned to be totally accepting of every decision the god-mind made, so inhabiting her small frame had been relatively easy. This body needed to be entirely owned by Nealaphh...with a mind that did not require the shadow to take a backseat to its host's whim.

Nealaphh pondered on this subject for some time longer, before suddenly realizing that it had been approaching the problem from the completely wrong angle. Creating a body without a mind was, obviously, impossible. Even sentient creatures that were comatose, that had no mental activity whatsoever, still had information stored inside of their brains that dictated the habitual function of their bodies. The answer, in this case, was simple. The god-mind did what it had done many times before, and copied its entire intellect into the pulsing gray matter of the flesh-bound frame. Nealaphh could not make a 'blank slate', but it could easily ingrain its own motives, knowledge, and tactics into the memories of this nameless Secondary. As the rainbow scintillation of the Omnilium faded, the god-mind watched with glowing green glee as its biological double hoisted itself from the ground. It...or rather, he blinked a few times in the inky blackness, staring into the viridian glower that served as the cave's only illumination. A moment passed, before Nealaphh's Prime body evaporated into a thick black smog which Nealaphh's Secondary body inhaled deeply. Upon doing so, shivers ran down the body's skin and it shrugged its shoulders back, as if waking from a deep sleep for the first time. The Nealaphhs looked down at their hand and suddenly realized a critical oversight; the had neglected to make clothing for the body to wear. Normally they could have simply constructed some as necessary, but the body's ears picked up the sound of muted voices...

...

Hendrick and Palomay clambered over the salty, soaking rocks that loomed like ineffectual bastions at the mouth of the cave. The pair had been coming back from an evening's fishing trip when they had caught a glimpse of light from inside the old Honey Pot cavern, South East of Bilgewater. Now, normally they might just assume it was some smugglers or unsavory types conducting a midnight rendezvous, but it was not torchlight they had spotted from their dingy; it was the rainbow blast of color that heralded the presence of Omnilium. Judging by the intensity of the glow, there was quite a lot of it being used, too. Something valuable was in there.

"Wotcha figgur den Pally? Sum kinda Prime treasure?" Hendrick said, in a hushed yet excited whisper. Palomay remained silent, save for a few grunts as he scaled the final few handholds into the water-slick geological orifice.

"Crimey 'sdarker 'en yer mums buttcrack in 'ere." Hendrick continued, brushing a few strands of some unidentifiable ocean weed from his blazer. That was okay though, Hendrick had no need to worry about getting the beige overcoat dirty; it was his usual garb when dealing with dirty business like rock climbing or fishing. With this he wore a simple button down shirt that used to be a deep blue, and some black breeches. Palomay continued to say nothing, but simply pulled out one of his pitch covered torches and lit it up with a spark from his flintlock. That was Pally, thought Hendrick, silent and sharp. At times, Hendrick honestly thought that Pally was slow, considering he wasn't really given to sharing his mind all that much. Still, was good company on a fishing trip. Quiet enough to keep the fish calm and a good listener. Patient too, if Hendrick had to be honest. He knew he wasn't always the most savvy to the ways of good company-keeping, but he didn't need to be with a best friend like Palomay. Finally the quiescent Secondary spoke.

"I think I just saw sum thin'." he said, his voice deep. The torchlight illuminated the dark-skinned man's face with a spooky flickering gloam. His fashionable tricorn kept the man's eyes in shade as he peered into the damp darkness beyond, trying to spy whatever it was that was moving around back there. His black overalls went well with the ebon setting. Hendrick approached from behind with his loud, heavy footfalls.

"You thinkin' we oughtta scarper?" he said in a mere whisper, trying to look at whatever Pally was pointing his eyes at. Wordlessly, Palomay began to walk deeper into the black granite tube. The walls reflected the warmth of the torchlight in great sheets of orange glimmering, as if they rejected the offer of illumination outright. The footing was rather unsteady, as a small, trickling stream made sure that no surface underfoot remained dry and tractive. Just then, a shadow from behind a sleeping boulder warped. It was hard to tell with the distended features cast by the firelight, but it appeared to be human...to some degree.

"Oi! Rock monkey! Whyn't ya come out an' hand over yeh 'nilium? If yeh do then you k'n get back to yeh scampering un'armed." Hendrick said, taking his gutting knife out from the drawn cord belt that held his breeches in place. The bilious blade still stank with the blood of slain fish, and the corrosion that lingered on its thick faces belied the implement's age. In kind, Palomay powdered up his pistol and dropped a ball into the muzzle. There was no response from whoever it was that was hiding back there. The adventurous duo looked at each other for a moment then offered bemused grins. With a surge of motion, they lunged around the large, oblong boulder and discovered...

...nothing. There was nothing back here. Hendrick scratched at his bushy-haired head as Palomay turned around and resumed scanning the darkness. There had to be someone in here! Hendrick was no mad-man, and Palomay had eyes sharp enough to dig holes into a mainmast.

"Rrrroight. Well. Yeh can't sneak past us, bucko. We've got the upper 'and, see?" Hendrick said, brandishing his servile blade into the umbral trappings beyond the reach of the flame's light. It was at that moment that the world seemed to...go all funny. There came a bending sensation in Hendrick's ear, like he was being sucked down some kind of hole.

"Whhuuu..." he groaned, looked down at his hands, which seemed to be tracing long, white skinned lines into the horizon that...didn't exist. Palomay also appeared to be affected, as he lost his balance. Before the man could fall over backwards, however, both Secondaries were blasted almost seven feet deeper into the bowels of the cave. A thunderous explosion shook the entire cavern, and small chunks of heavy stone rained down from the ceiling. Hendrick clutched at his head and looked around for Palomay, who was barely illuminated by the torch which had rolled perilously close to its demise at the edge of the trickling brook between them. Palomay seemed to shout something, but Hendrick couldn't hear the words.

"Wot?

"-aid we've got taget the 'ell outta here!" the dark skinned man said, trying to heft himself to his feet. Whatever had happened, it had been loud enough to momentarily blast Hendrick's hearing out of his head for a few moments. The fishing aficionado began to sit up too, but all of a sudden, there was...something between them. It appeared to have the makings of a man, but...it was back lit but the dying light of the torch. Hendrick could only see as Palomay's eyes rose to greet the face of whatever it was, only to adopt a look of shock and anger on his warped features. Hendrick could only think to do one thing; run. As the torch finally gave out, Hendrick pelted towards the mouth of the cave, nary giving a thought to the fate of his long time companion behind him. Fear was a powerful disincentive for valiance, in that regard. Hendrick could only hear, only shiver, as he heard a long, drawn out scream from his friend. A scream which reverberated in a ghastly timbre within the walls of the cave, and seemed eager to force Hendrick's retreat even faster.

The fisherman climbed desperately down the rock face of Honey Hole cave, his skin getting flayed and torn by the sharp edges of the sea-washed stone. When his feet finally his the loose, shifting gravel of the beach, he looked back at the mouth of the cave, high above. A moment passed, where the only sound was his fevered gasping and the incessant whisper of the waves. Then, a figure loomed tall at the mouth of the cave, barely lit by the sliver of moon which glared reproachfully down at the sordid scene. It was not Palomay. It was a...a man. Some sort of man, bare as the day he was born. The nude figure looked around for a moment, as if searching for something. Only too late did Hendrick realized what the enigmatic figure's quarry was. Though the fisherman could no see the man's eyes per se, he knew that their gazes locked. He also knew that the figure's eyes suddenly flashed a bright green and he felt like he was being sucked down a drain again.

With crazed huffs and whines, Hendrick wobbled towards the refuge of the trees until the world seemed to be sitting upright again. There came another thunderous bang, and a hail of salty pebbles and gravel bombarded Hendrick's sweat drenched back. Hendrick ran. He kept running and would keep running all the way back to Bilgewater. The people in the town needed to be warned: there was a killer prime on the loose. The memory of his horror seemed to beg Hendrick that he look back the way he had come, to ensure that he was not being stalked by the human monstrosity that had...done something horrible to Palomay. Hendrick could barely see the beach through the palm grove he now dashed through, and saw no sign of pursuit. A less intelligent secondary might assume they could stop running at this point, but Hendrick knew better. A Prime never gave up. It was this baleful overconfidence that doomed the fisherman, as, when he turned back to face his direction of travel, he ran straight into the damnably warm, bare chest of a human man. Hendrick looked up into the face of the Prime. It was a face...that...it was indescribable. Not because it was terrifying, or was a visage that words could not find...it was just so...plain. Even as he stared at the horrible face, it seemed to shift and jog at the edges, as if his mind couldn't quite settle on just what the features of this stalker looked like.

It didn't matter though.

Hendrick wailed as he felt his body leave the earth, lifted up into the air by an unseen hand, like a kitten plucked from a litter. His gaze leveled with that of the Prime's, both of them wide eyed and panting hard.

"Puh-please. Oh please, oh please. Don't, I...I-I-I Oooh Omni, help meeeaaaAAAAUAUUGGGHHAHAUGHGAAAHHAA!"

Hendrick's noises grew inhuman as he felt his body rapidly plucked apart...as limbs were torn from their sockets and ribs flayed outwards from their normal, orderly array like dog tails whipping in frenetic glee...and all the while, he was forced to stare into those eyes. Those wide, human eyes that held a green evil in them. It was a terrible sight to go out on.

...

Regrettable. Nealaphh had hoped not to have to kill the men who had happened upon it within the cave, but when they withdrew their weapons, there was nothing that could be left to risk. The Secondary body did not have the consistency of stone, like its own, normal corpus. Such lowly tools of death now posed a very real risk that the god-mind would prefer to be left unrealized. It was also regrettable that the man had elected to call upon the name of The Smiling One in a time of need. Normally, the shadow may have given the man a much less painful death, but the amygdala of this human frame bade the god-mind into an angry outburst. It was something that Nealaphh would have to make sure didn't become habitual.

After a few minutes, Nealaphh finished dressing itself with the human's garb and wicking the last of his breeze chilled blood from the body's hands. Pulling the other human's hat over its head, Nealaphh turned on its heel and completed Hendricks forlorn sojourn back to Bilgewater, albeit at a much more relaxed pace...

[Tearen Wover]

The deep, damp morass that was organic sleep had thrown the dual God-Minds for a loop, once the sun had risen once again on the lush Blue Flame Island. The mental clones had spent the night sleeping behind one of the local tavern's building's, the warmth of the sea breeze serving to caress their normal frenetic minds to sleep. It had been a long time since Nealaphh had dwelled within an organic form entirely of its own ownership. The sensations of hunger, weariness, excretory urgency and the myriad of other biological impulses had nearly been overwhelming to the point that the god-mind considered forgoing this entire ruse and simply rampaging through Bilgewater until it had what it was looking for. Of course, that kind of impatience was, in and of itself, a product of biological chemical incentives. The shadows had calmed their fraying nerves be recalling memories back from another time when it had still owned a single organic form...traveling a cursed land, doomed to suffer until their outlook on the situation had shifted. Remembering lessons such as these was almost akin to calling on the power of a mantra or prayer. The lessons that had ultimately led it to its unlimited power.

The time for rumination was past, however, and the god-minds commanded their shared body to rise to its feet and stretch its limbs into a more limber state. The distant, muted hubub of the bustling morning rabble down in the markets was cut with the crisp, fresh overtones of distant surf. Glittering palm fronds swayed in the ever present breeze overhead, and the dirt was damp and loamy. This brownian swirling of life was quite enriching to the soul of the god-mind. It was often the place of mortal-minded folk to assume that Outer Gods had a marked disdain for the ways of the lesser beings, but Nealaphh found the diminished humility of such a life to be enriching in a certain way. Their limited scope of reality must be such a relaxing state of mind. As the body made its way into town, it got a few sidelong glances from locals unfamiliar with the enigmatic visage that their face wore, but otherwise, no real attention was drawn. Being a port city, unfamiliar faces frequented the streets quite often.

It was on this breezy, crowded morning that the body was moved into the musty warmth of the Lumbering Lubber, the tavern that coincidentally served as the primary point of sale for the food and booze that Lady Jereson moved in and out of the island. The Nealaphhs had come in for information. Lady Jereson was there for a drink. Well...Her fourth drink that morning. As the light from the opened door flooded the dismal interior of the wooden shop, Lady and her three most favored muscle men turned to regard who else on the island might be so thirsty this time of the day. Some sea-dog, fresh off the fishing barges by the smell and look of him. With a barely audible scoff, Lady turned back to her grog and sipped the pungent beverage in dour fashion. The body sat quite conspicuously next to the four organized criminals. They eyed it suspiciously, and Nealaphh could feel their minds running at a blinding clip (for humans) as to who they might be. The body chuckled and ordered a drink of its own in a hushed, controlled voice. The bartender looked at Lady for a moment, which the Nealaphhs noted, before turning around to fix the alcoholic concoction.

"An' wot's yer rib there, matey? Got a prob'um wit the Lady's disdain?"

"Better shove off iff'n ye do. Ain't no one gonna fret over a missin' ship's hand 'round this town."

Nealaphh took great pains to roll the body's eyes before delicately picking the port it had ordered off the grease-polished bar top and taking a pull from the grimy cup. In a puerile outburst, one of Lady's henchmen pulled his flintlock firearm and fired a shot which sent a bullet crashing through the thick clay chalice from which Nealaphh drank. It pulled the shattered cup away from its mouth and observed the fractured vessel with slightly raised eyebrows. Lady had been in a foul mood before this deck ape had sauntered into her bar, but now it was just getting straight-up intolerable. With grit teeth, she stood up and drew her cutlass, pressing the flat of the blade to the underside of the stranger's chin.

"I dearly hope ye was lookin' fer a scrimmage mate, coz I'm about to give it to ye." she said in a seething tone. When Nealaphh didn't move, Lady screwed her face into a sharp glare of rage and kicked the Nealaphhs' stool out from under them. The body went tumbling to the floor, but it caught its weight with a dextrous roll before standing up slowly and brushing itself free of the saw dust its fisherman's garb had collected in the maneuver.

"En garde then, ye offal suckin' fish gutter!" she shrieked, stepping forward and throwing her momentum into a sharp jab. The body stepped deftly to the left of the attack and almost preemptively ducked as the blade whipped back around for a swiping follow through. With a shocked snarl, Lady lunged backwards and flicked her free hand forward in an angry gesture, signaling her three goons to show the stranger some proper manners. With great howls of intermixed frustration and glee, the three men drew their own weapons and began taking turns swiping at the dextrous foe. Alas, their uncoordinated attacks were no match for the body's skillful evasion. The shadows stepped and twirled through the storm of flashing steel like a dancer, swooping down towards its feet, and then shifting its weight over the pivot point of its left hand, narrowly evading the deadly edges. All this martial discourse was quite amusing to the Nealaphhs till they caught a glimpse of motion out of the corner of their right eye. The female was training another flintlock firearm on the body. Dodging the clumsy swipes and jabs of the henchmen was one thing, but the god-minds sincerely doubted the body's ability to leap clear from the trajectory of the supersonic ball of lead. With a sigh, the body tumbled backwards and tossed up a quick hyperbolic shield. As Lady pulled the trigger on her weapon, a great plume of smoke erupted from the gun, which sent the fated pistol ball careening into the veil of bent space. There was only a shuddering rumble as the shot was deflected up into the ceiling of the bar.

At this, the henchmen and Lady all recoiled in shock. It was now abundantly clear that they were out of their league with this opponent. Was he a Prime? Or just some devilishly bewitched Secondary? Lady personally hadn't heard of anyone with powers such as these landing on Blue Flame Island, and she did like to think her information network was top of the line. With a slow, two handed wave, she called off her goons before crossing her hands over her chest. The wild red hair that flowed down over her shoulder was tossed by a flippant hand as she scowled at the chuckling rogue.

"Alright then Captain Giggles, wot's yer story and why are ye in me bar?" she said, spitting at his feet for emphasis. The god-minds consulted with one another before responding. They hadn't really intended for any of this to happen, but based on the control that this female had over these warriors, her proclaimed ownership of the premises, and the respect with which the barkeep had regarded her, this Secondary was clearly someone of considerable influence. It was likely she would have the information they were looking for...or at least know someone who did. The best recourse was agreed upon; make it seem like this was all planned.

"I'm looking for some privileged information. I figured that simply walking up and asking someone of your status for the knowledge wouldn't work, so I decided to bait you into letting me audition for your attention." the body said in its calm, soothing voice. Lady scoffed but cracked an impressed smile nonetheless.

"Heh. Well. Ye certainly got that, at least. You realize we was gonna kill you though, aye?" she said, a confused tone in her voice. The body nodded.

"Oh, I know. But that's just a risk that is run in this trade, is it not?" the body responded, shifting its weight onto its right foot.

"Oh yeah? And what trade is that?" Lady asked, maintaining her stand-offish pose.

"The illicit transportation of goods. Smuggling."

"I ain't shit-fer-brains ye lubber. I know what 'illicit transportation' means. So, what? You the new competition in town?" Lady said, suddenly becoming much less enthused about the general situation. Nealaphh shook the body's head.

"No, no. My affairs are entirely personal, and not a matter of profit. Like I said, I just need some information."

Lady stroked her chin for a moment, eyeing the stranger with a suspicious glower. She couldn't exactly go disclosing her personal knowledge out to any person that came asking for it. That was how other pirate lords got themselves screwed. No, she wasn't gonna spill the beans on this one. At the same time...someone with that kind of power was not someone she wanted to cross, and it would be better to have him in her pocket as opposed to anyone else's.

"Alright...let's head upstairs and talk it over, stranger. Wot's yer moniker anyway?" Lady asked, striding forward with an out stretched hand. Nealaphh took it with a firm yet polite grip and smiled softly.

"Bob."

[Tearen Wover]

The Nealaphhs followed the human woman up the rickety wooden stairs of the bar, keeping their awareness extended as much as possible. It did not detect any hostile intent in the female's brain, at least on the surface, but it was always good to remain on guard when in the presence of morally liberal company. The five denizens landed on the second floor in what amounted to little more than furnished attic, with a singular oil lamp casting a meager light on the collected brigands. That, along with the small spears of light that poked through the thatching that one had to duck to avoid grazing with their scalp. The three bodyguards quite conspicuously blocked the stairs back down into the tavern itself, but Nealaphh was not immediately threatened; if need be, it could quite easily defend itself. The trick was trying to reveal as little of its true nature as possible to this inquisitive pirate royal. It stood as a testament to Lady's business-like demeanor that she pulled a stool up to a small table that occupied a majority of the room. With a deep sigh, she eased herself on to her own perch and gave The Body another looking over before continuing.

"Roit then, what kinda information are ye lookin' fer?" she said bluntly, clasping her hands under her chin and leaning forward. It was really a rather amiable physical gesture, one which the Nealaphhs were unsure of how to respond to. Blinking slowly, The Body conveyed the words that the God-Minds had agreed upon.

"A portal, or, at least a secret route to one of Coruscant's less reputable tiers. Do you know of such a thing?" Nealaphh asked slowly, making sure its words were understood. It was highly tempting to simply raid the woman's mind for the data, but again, this entire interaction had to be a matter of discretion. Nealaphh had already made itself quite the target across several key areas of the Omniverse; it wouldn't do to become an outlaw in a place where it could feasibly avoid persecution quite easily. Maybe, back when it had the full extent of its mental powers, it could have stolen the information without Lady even noticing, but Nealaphh was unsure of how thin its telepathic prowess had been spread, and this human seemed rather sharp as well. Lady took great pains to facially illustrate how much trouble she was coming up with an answer to Nealaphh's question, which rendered the God-Minds rather suspicious.

"A smugglers niche, eh? That's some 'spensive knowledge yer lookin' to barter. I'd have t'know I kin trust ye not to step on me own ten toes in the future..." Lady said, flipping a lock of hair out of her wildly smug features. The Body refrained from rolling its eyes. It seemed as though this entire affair was going to be drawn out to the most strenuous degree possible.

"I can pay you an abundance of Omnilium. Name your price." The Body said in a tone that indicated nothing but the utmost confidence. Lady practically shrieked with laughter.

"Ohohohohooo. Nooo no no no Bob. This ain't about the 'nilium. This is about me own entire livelihood. These are ruthlessly guarded secrets." Lady said, taking on a tone that was more than a tad patronizing. She was about to start speaking again, but growing impatient, Nealaphh cut her off.

"These motions of subtlety pain me. What is it you want?" The Body said, leering at Lady with his indistinct eyes. Lady sat up a little straighter and rose her eyebrows, though Nealaphh couldn't tell if it was mock surprise or genuine. There was clearly more to this female than was immediately apparent. The shadows had a sinking feeling that this entire endeavor was already a wasted effort. Normally, they would not be inclined to ignore their intuition, but the situation necessitated a gambit. The alternatives were too complicated to even contemplate at the moment.

"I wanna trade one guarded secret fer another. There's another pirate bloke that runs business down in Bilgewater by the name 'o Leto Natrian. Y've probably heard 'o him." Lady said in a nonchalant manner, picking something out from under her cruddy fingernails. Perhaps she thought she was being subtle, but it was clear that she was digging for information on The Body: whether or not he was actually a local. The Nealaphhs simply nodded slowly before making a stirring motion with The Body's left hand, beckoning Lady to continue.

"Anysorts, he's one 'o the richest keel-haulin sunzabitches on this island and I wanna know his game. Yer gonna find out how he gets his 'nilium shippin' those warm bodies around, as he does." Lady said, donning a devilish grin. Nealaphh idly scratched at the nape of The Body's neck, picking some sort of small bit of embedded grime out of his skin. Not even a day old and already showing signs of its flawed design. How marvelous the human body was.

"I see. Do you have any advice for this task?" Nealaphh asked sternly, unfolding The Body's arms and idly twiddling its thumbs. Lady offered a challenging grin, and the Nealaphhs were reminded vaguely of The Smiling One for a moment. The frustration that resulted was quite evident on The Body's features, and the Secondary criminal apparently took this personally.

"Oh, I don't see fit t'be tellin' ye what I do and don't know. I still can't know fer sure that yer not workin' fer Leto. Can't make him privvy to me intelligence. You know how it goes."

This elicited a deep sigh from The Body. Of course. Nothing about this was going to be straightforward.

"Very well. I will learn what I can." The Body said, hoisting himself to his feet and turning to go back down the stairs. One of the pirate queen's toughs refused to move, however. Apparently he hadn't been excused. The entire scenario reminded the Nealaphh's of dealing with The Master...it was a scenario they hadn't thought about or experienced for quite some time, and it sat poorly with the shadows' conscience.

"We're not done yet, scrub." Lady said in a menacing tone. The Body's face screwed up into a nasty scowl, and the thug blocking the stairs was suddenly thrown with a loud crash into a pile of barrels adjacent to the stairwell. As the Nealaphhs descended the now cleared stairway, The Body heard weapons being drawn.

"Oi! I said-!" Lady started, but The Body cut her off with an imperious voice that drowned out any other verbal sentiment.

"We're done here. I agreed to this exchange of services and that is all that is required of this meeting."

"You listen here, boy. You're on my turf, y'hear? And if ye think ye c'n just-"

The Body whipped around, a green fire burning in its eyes. The situation had moved far beyond the pale of Nealaphh's now very human patience. The viridian brilliance cast a horrid light on the Secondaries' stunned visages, frozen in fear at the abrupt aggression.

"I will ever and always do as I please...and Lady...if you cross me, I promise, the pain you endure will be of mythic proportions." The Body seethed, his grip on the bannister of the stairwell audibly splintering the driftwood it was comprised of. Lady swallowed nervously but said nothing. With a sharp growl, the Nealaphhs wheeled around and stormed out of the tavern.

They had a bad feeling about this.

[Tearen Wover]

Consigned to the task at hand, the Nealaphhs guided The Body down into the town proper. The most sensible plan of action would be to search for any of this Leto man's hired workers, or, if possible, a shipment full of secondaries. As the God-Minds prowled through the streets of bilgewater, however, there came a gnawing, cloying sensation from The Body's core. Ah yes, it needed to be fed. How tiresome.

With a reluctant sigh, The Body turned down a twisting cobblestone street lined with various stands selling produce and other token sustenance. Using a few droplets of Omnilium, The Body was able to purchase some bread and cheese, which The Body unceremoniously crammed down its throat as quickly as possible. Despite Nealaphh's great fascination with human minds and culture, the aesthetics of their mortal lifestyle chafed against his more ambient sensibilities. Still, the Nealaphhs would never let their own need for mental indulgence interfere with the task at hand.

Having no real information to go on, the shadows walked the smoke-kissed, balmy streets of the town, peering into minds here and there for any sort of pertinent information. Many people knew who Leto Natrian was, and that they should stay out of his way. It wasn't until The Body was casually strolling around the docks that it locked onto a mind roiling with the pirate lord's name. It was some sort of cargo book keeper for the port of Bilgewater; a frantic, hassled man who was under constant threat from smugglers and pirates to keep the records looking clean. His mind was located inside a small, ramshackle office made of aging palm wood. There was only so much that Nealaphh could glean from the man's mind without being able to make direct eye contact, however. So, being the patient sort of God-Mind, Nealaphh found a reasonably comfortable place to park The Body and waited.

It wasn't until late in the evening, when The Body had, annoyingly, become hungry again, that the book keeper cautiously exited his tiny office. The port district of Bilgewater was a a cramped and labyrinthine place, which made it easy for the Nealaphhs to track the book keeper's mind while staying far out of sight. They tracked him all the back to his meager house; a two story granite townhouse in one of Bilgewater's more modest living areas.

The Body stood in the street below, listening to the man's outer most thoughts as he went about getting ready to sleep for the night. Once the Nealaphhs were confident he wouldn't be going anyway for quite some time, they stalked off in search of more sustenance for The Body, devising a plan of infiltration...

[Tearen Wover]

Gerald P. Howards was a simple man. He didn't expect much of the world, though it rarely offered him the same kind of grace. Gerald was good at his maths, but not phenomenal. In most parts of the Omniverse this would make him rather unremarkable, but on the scarcely literate island of Blue Flame, it was quite the valuable skill. Despite their less the reputable business practices, smugglers and pirates were quite fastidious when it came to keeping track of their riches. After all, it was so easy for thievery and other underhanded betrayals to be perpetrated in these parts, so when Gerald first moved to Blue Flame after a notably unremarkable career on Costa Del Sol, he had anticipated an easy life of usefulness and lucrative work. Of course he had heard of the rumors regarding the port of Bilgewater; that it was a hive of scum and villainy. When he had first set out to the island, however, he had been rather optimistic as to the prospects of his security. Daring, perhaps, was the way he had justified it at the time. Some strange aberration of a mid life crisis. But instead of taking out an unfair loan for a brand new swoop bike, he had decided to go live amongst thieves and brigands. Oh yes of course, the first few months living in the simple lifestyle of the island had been magnificent. He had found work at the docks quickly, and though thugs and brigands occasionally targeted him for an evening's mugging, he had been quite happy.

It wasn't until the name Leto Natrian had come across his shipping ledger that things had taken a turn for the worst. The pirate lord was scum, through and through. A corpulent, abrasive fellow who stank deeply of personal odors and liquor. Every week Leto would skulk into Gerald's office and stand over the book keeper's shoulder, breathing wetly, as Gerald set about changing not only Leto's shipping logs, but the shipping logs of other smugglers and merchants as well. All of this was done, of course, at gunpoint. Gerald quickly developed a deep hatred for the fat, smug businessman and his entire operation. Once other merchants found out that Gerald was fixing their numbers, they had quickly moved on to other accountants, for fear of being caught up in Leto's twisted, aggressive business acumen.

The only time when Gerald felt safe was when he was here at home in his little graystone port house, overlooking the gently flickering ships lanterns in the bay and the stars farther out in the sky itself. A pleasant breeze was wafting in through the window as he sat in quiet serenity, sipping his tea. His gaunt frame was dressed only in an aging pair of knickerbockers, and he sat in a plush rocking chair, arguably his prized possession. Just as the man was thinking of going back to bed, however, there came a slight creaking noise. He knew it came from the shutters at the rear end of the small bedroom; they often blew open when a squall passed over Blue Flame island. It was curious that they would pry themselves open in the absence of a strong wind, but there were far stranger things to be seen in the Omniverse. The gray haired book keeper eased himself up out of the plush rocker and gently padded over to the rear window, closing it and making sure that the latch was secure. Nodding to himself, Gerald turned around and threw open the sheet of his bed. Hairs stood up on the back of his sun spotted neck as he heard the latch undo itself and the rear shutters creak open once more. With a gulp of fear, the book keeper turned slowly to regard the mysteriously open aperture, expecting to see some red-eyed devil standing on the sill. There was no such thing. Yet another quiet moment passed, and just as Gerald was about to cross the room once more to shut the blasted things, a thick, black smog began to roll up and over the window frame.

This was no mere cook-fire haze, nor patch of coal smoke. The roiling cloud had a life of its own, defying the ambient cross breeze of the second story bedroom and rolling steadily towards Gerald. With just a small gasp of terror, the book keeper fled down the staircase, into the parlor, and out into the narrow foyer, decorated with various etchings of ships both Imperial and colonial. He could hear foot steps now, loud, solid footsteps slowly pacing their way down those same steps he had traversed just seconds prior. Breathing with deep, frenzied sucks, Gerald tried the knob on the front door, pulling sharply, but it was to no avail. Shocked, the aging man peered through the looking hole. By Omni, there was someone out there! Someone holding the door shut with all of their might!

In a flight of panic, Gerald launched to his left into the dining room, catching a glimpse of bright, acidic green out of the corner of his eye, right behind him. Fearing fully for his life, the book keeper made for the back door, through the kitchen. Stumbling in the darkness, there was a clattering of pots and pans as he tore through the blackened room. With a long, drawn out groan of relief and still pulsing hysteria, Gerald sprinted to his salvation, only to suddenly find that his feet had no traction. He was in the air! The wind was knocked from his heaving lungs as he was slammed against the ceiling of the kitchen and held there by some eldritch force better left unconsidered. Gerald turned his head to the left and squeezed his eyes shut, listening as his glasses clattered to the ground far below.

"Please! Oh please, please! Whatever...whatever you may be I don't...I cah...I can't..."

In that next instant, Gerald's jaw was gripped by something...terrible. The shape of the gripping appendage was human, with four fingers and a thumb, but it was cold. Colder than the newest ice on the caps of the Frozen Fields. And the skin, it was slick and hard, like polished stone. Despite his straining neck muscles, Gerald's face was slowly turned so as to gaze into the eyes...the three eyes...of his pursuer. Gripped by the dread that ran thick through his chilled veins, Gerald was speechless. What could be said? There came a numb sort of tickle from inside his head, as flashes of memories of his books and Leto Natrian flashed through his minds eye, like someone was leafing through pages of his mind. The three eyed devil...it was in his head. He watched as his own tears dripped onto its completely smooth, black face, rolling over those noisome green eyes like they were but painted, phosphorescent effigies.

There was no need for this to be so difficult.

Gerald didn't know where the words had come from. Had it been a thought of his own or whisperings of a voice whose owner he refused to comprehend? The questions would not be answered, as Gerald's quivering, shock ridden body was lowered gently back to the ground. There the book keeper collapsed and gripped the cold cobblestone, the foundation of the building the only thing that could ground him to the world he once had accepted as reality. By the time Gerald dared to sit up and look around, the blessed sun was kissing his face from the small kitchen window, and the thing...that...thing...was gone. No trace of it remained in the slightest. Even the latch on the shutters was neatly in place, upon inspection. With no other recourse, Gerald Howards sank into the warm, inviting arms of his plush rocking chair and resumed sipping his tea, which out of some hellish gesture of conciliation, was still steaming warm...

[Tearen Wover]

The following evening, the Nealaphhs journeyed into Bilgewater's red light district. Based on the information that had been gained from the book keeper's mind, Leto Natrian kept a secret warehouse of his merchandise within one of the brothels in these lascivious streets. Males and females of various species and states of undress lingered within the warm lights of the run down cottages that echoed with cries of fufillment and deceit. Both of the Nealaphhs were glad that The Body was not having any sort of horomonal reactions to the sexual ploys of the resident workers. Granted, The Body had been sculpted without any sort of genitalia, but the centers in The Body's very human brain that controlled mating impulses were still very much intact. Lust could be a powerful source of interference for logical thinking, and though the Prime Nealaphh was not subject to its effects, the Secondary Nealaphh very much was.

Still, it was currently not a factor, so there was no sense in lingering on it. The establishment that the god-minds were looking for was called the Scantly Clad. It not only served as a convenient place for Leto's smuggled bodies to pay off their debts, but also as Leto's preferred den of indulgence. Outside stood a large, heavily built feline humanoid with horns that wore a stern expression on his scarred face. In addition, a red skinned woman with tiny bat wings and a negligee that left very little to the imagination hung off of bouncer's elbow, almost daring customers to try and get past the staunch guardian to find a den of even more stimulating attractions. As The Body approached the entrance to the house of pleasures, the feline humanoid held up a hand and spoke in a booming bass growl.

"Members only."

Simple enough. The Body nodded and sauntered off, appearing to peruse more accessible establishments. Honestly it would be quite trivial for the Prime Nealaphh to make its way inside, but on the off chance that it was spotted, it would be rather conspicuous, to say the least. Rounding the corner of the street, the Nealaphhs peered down the back yards of the many brothels. Each was fenced in and, based on the noise and stray thoughts, had some sort of attempt at a party taking place. The Body couldn't help but adopt a wry grin as the flavor of these celebratory musings revealed itself in a sour note, as if all this jubilation and hedonism was forced. A fleeting facade to banish the shadows of doubt and mortality that linger at the edges of the human mind. The Scantly Clad seemed notable, in that its back yard was, for the most part, completely enclosed. There was some sparse wire meshing on top of the fences, as if to prevent unwanted guests from dropping in.

Or maybe...

Was it to prevent people from getting out?. Curious, the Nealaphhs guided The Body closer to the high wooden fence that concealed all of the activity within the bordello. The Body delicately picked its way through the underbrush and sidled up to the barricade, reaching out with its mind for anyone who it could use. Many of the workers had some form of desperation, and beneath their ambient despair, Nealaphh could feel a...secret. Something deep and terrible. A secret to be feared. There was a young man, originally from Coruscant, who had wanted to escape the oppression of the Empire and the dangerous streets of Tier 6. Trevor Vlano was his name. He had little hope he would ever leave the Scantly Clad, as the amount of debt he had to repay Leto Natrian always seemed to increase slightly every time he asked. Such was the price of dealing with scum. Nealaphh could not learn much more of the boy's ways without alerting his mind to the shadow's peering attention. No need for any pretense of subtlety; this would either work or it wouldn't.

...

Trevor.

Trevor froze in place where he sat at the feet of some pirate noblewoman, his previously massaging hands going stone cold with fear. The entitled baroness looked down at him with a questioning eye, a subtext of menace glinting in her yellowed gaze. Slowly, Trevor began to knead her oil slicked flesh again, when that strange voice pinged his mind yet again.

Trevor. Do not be afraid.

Something weird was definitely up, but the young man shook his head in defiance of his apparent insanity and continued to work on the woman's legs, for fear of the repercussions if he ended his service to her. He kept on doing as he had been told, despite this new, constant nagging.

Trevor. I need your help. And I can help you.

"I don't even know what the fuck any more..." Trevor murmured, barely audible, as he moved to the baroness's right leg. He was doubly disturbed whenever this voice in his head appeared to respond to his words. This was how it started huh? Going crazy? About time. He had been working at this place for over seven months, and after all the shit he had had to do, all of the vile, heinous requests he had been forced to fulfill, it might be nice to go a little nuts. Take the edge off of things.

Trevor. My name is Nealaphh. I can free you from this place, but it will be dangerous, and I need you to show me something first.

"And how do I do that, tiny man in my brain?" Trevor said with a chuckle, moving on to the woman's disgusting, yellow toed feet. The baroness had started to take notice.

"Wot was that, luv?"

"Nothing, madame. Just talking to myself." he said in the velvety falsetto he had learned could earn him a tip or two. The baroness just responded with a pig-like grunt and a shrug. What did she care? She was getting what she wanted from the little sex rat.

Trevor, I am capable of entering other people's bodies. I need to merge with you in order to achieve our goal.

"Wouldn't be the first time it's happened."

Your sardonicism is a pointless defense mechanism. You know what I mean.

Shit, was this voice in his head seriously getting surly with him? What the fuck? In all honesty though, despite Trevor's jaded nature, he kinda guessed that he knew what this pretend voice was getting at. Like a possession or something.

Precisely.

Oh wait, shit. This thing was really in his head, wasn't it? This was seriously starting to get distracting.

Is there somewhere we can talk undisturbed?

Well, the commode would probably work, pending there wasn't anybody getting their rocks off inside.

Excellent. I look forward to it.

"Whatever." Trevor sighed as he undid his pants and began the second half of his service to this heinous woman.

...

Half an hour later, Trevor sat down on the bench of the squalid little out house that was on the edge of the Scantly Clad's so called 'pleasure garden'. He was really hoping the voice in his head wouldn't come back, but sure enough, the second he began to relax, it came tinkling into his head.

"Do you mind dude? I'm kinda...busy?"

Your biological functions do not concern me. To the point; I am investigating Leto's human smuggling business. The deal stands.

"So you promise me freedom and...what do I have to do precisely?"

I will guide you, but we must merge first. You must be ready to accept another soul inside of you.

"Yeah well...not like I usually have a choice. Whooo insanity-"

Trevor gagged heavily as a thick black smoke flooded in through the thin cracks of the outhouse's walls and surged down his throat, filling his lungs like a numbing, cool vapor. This was...this wasn't insanity. He had really, seriously, just let a ghost possess him. Panicking, Trevor hiked up his pants and was about to burst out of the wooden rest facilities when an overwhelming urge to not do precisely that overwhelmed him.

"Is this what it's gonna be like? You say jump and I say how high?" Trevor said with a nervous laugh. He could try and put on a brave face, but honestly, he was panting slightly, grabbing the splintering wood of the toilet bench.

Calm yourself Trevor. I do not wish for harm to come to you. We need to work together.

"Okay...hokay...ooohhkay." he said, trying to stabilize his breath. Oh fuck, this was seriously happening. Gotta toughen up. He had been through some bad shit before on Tier 6. He could tough this one out. That was the only thing he had ever learned from his brother before he had been shot dead by an impromptu Imperial firing squad. Be brave. No matter what, be brave.

Yes. We need to be brave. Now. Leto Natrian keeps you and other smuggled Secondaries here, yes?

Yeah, Trevor didn't know exactly where, but people usually popped in and out of the basement, and he vaguely remembered being kept in a cramped, stinking crate for a whole day before being let out into a whorehouse and told he had to fuck to pay off the shipping costs. Fantastic.

We need to go there.

Oooohh no. No way. When Secondaries pissed Leto off they disappeared into the basement and never came back out. Something terrible went on down there, and sometimes you could just barely hear screams of terror and pain through the floorboards. Not that the customers of The Scantly Clad ever noticed...or cared. Ah fuck. Gotta be brave...but, you know, also, death?

I will keep you safe.

How could that possibly be the case? It wasn't as if he was a-

Prime? I am a Prime.

Wait, seriously? He was sharing a body with a Prime? Did that make him a Prime?

Not quite. Something in between.

Well, that was good enough for Trevor. Fuck it. Let's do this. The quickest way into the basement would be to cross Leto on a personal level. The pirate lord himself would be on the third floor, either fucking or eating. Maybe both. Taking a deep breath, Trevor exited the privy and entered The Scantly Clad itself, the red and gold lights barely illuminating the many writhing bodies. There was actually a burlesque going on at the moment: Little Miss Cindy was dancing and flashing her various assets around much to the delight of the enraptured audience. Her real name was Carrie, but she was a dead ringer for Cindy, the famous monster hunter who had fought in Dante's Abyss. Trevor couldn't let himself get distracted by her admittedly fierce talent for strip-tease, he had a job to do. As usual there was a Charr guard at the steps up into the brothel's overnight rooms, but Trevor was a pretty high-profile piece of talent in The Scantly Clad, so he was usually allowed just about anywhere.

One of those places was certainly not Leto Natrian's bedroom and office. As Trevor reached the third floor, there was no one in sight, and only a few rooms seemed occupied. The reluctant male escort slunk silently up to Leto's door and pressed an ear to it. There was no one inside, or at the very least, Leto was not. The pirate lord was anything if not conspicuous at all times. The door was locked though. What was he supposed to do now?

Allow me.

There came a sharp click, and the door creaked open slightly. Okay, so that was awesome. Now what was he supposed to do though?

Look for shipping logs, papers, a journal. Anything with information. We may not need to go into the basement at all.

Well that was a fantastic idea that Trevor could get behind whole heartedly. It was dark as fuck in Leto's room, but Trevor searched with the light from the hallway anyway, opening and closing drawers, rifling through cabinets, and generally making a mess of the place. Trevor was in the midst of looking through a dilapidated bookshelf when the ghost spoke up again.

Wait. There's someone here.

What? No way, he would have heard someone walking down those creaky ass floor boards.

Trevor. There's someone in this very room.

Trevor wrinkled his brow into a consternated visage of confusion and looked around, peering into the darkness. Nah. There wasn't anyone hiding in the shadows, unless it was some weird creepazoid hiding up in the rafters, haha...oh god. Trevor slowly looked up and froze, his entire skin going clammy as he spotted two swirling circles of red light looking down at him. He tried to sprint away, but before the hapless boy could even get one foot in front of the other, a great, cloaked shadow fell between him and the doorway. The next instant, everything went dark.

...

After some long time, Trevor slowly came to. His vision was blurry, and an angry knot throbbed on the back of his head. Ohhhh shit. Shit. He was in the basement. What the fuck, why was there blood on everything? Literally everything? Trevor slowly pushed himself into a seated position and tried to get a better gauge on his surroundings. He was in a wooden cage of some sort, alone, in a dark room illuminated only by a single candle. All around him he could hear whispers and murmurs. God it was so hard to see. Stack into the darkness were...crates. Long wooden crates like the ones that Leto used to smuggle people around the Omniverse. Were there people inside these things? In all of them? It sure smelled like it. Come to think of it, where was his ghost friend? The Prime?

I'm still here.

Well what the fuck, then? Couldn't it have done something? Fought off the dude in the robe or whatever?

He was also a Prime.

Trevor's mind froze. Leto had a Prime working for him? How did that even work? How could this pirate scumbag be so powerful that he actually had a Prime taking orders from him? Ohh man. Oh man, he was in deep.

Be calm. Be brave.

Oh fuck you. Shit. Oh shit. There was someone coming. Based on the heavy breathing and the footsteps, it sounded like it was Leto himself, with one of his toadies. The corpulent pirate lord was dressed in a hideous yellow overcoat, with a grease spattered cravat bursting out from a white shirt that strained to contain his mountainous gut. Red hair merged with a barely kempy, scraggly goatee, made pretty damn terrifying by the swinging light of the lantern that the token pirate thug was carrying. Leto lumbered up to the cage that Trevor was in and leaned heavily on the wooden bars, the frame of the structure creaking in protest. The pirate lord smiled at Trevor for a moment in the darkness, chuckling in a half-amused tone.

"Trevor. Poor, poor Trevor. When I heard that Lady had hired some stool pigeon to try and learn about my operation, I was expecting an agent from the outside. But here Uchiha finds you of all people sneaking into my room."

Leto chuckled again.

"I gotta admit, I'm honestly confused. So congratulate yourself on that little nugget, fuck pig." Leto said, sharply gesturing towards the bandana capped pirate. The oafish brute hung the lantern on a hook that sprang out of a support post and fiddled with heavy keys, opening the cumbersome door of the cage. Trevor was grabbed by what felt like the hands of a gorilla and hoisted on to his feet. The three Secondaries shuffled down a long corridor lined with cargo containers, and as they passed each one, Trevor could hear whispers offering condolences and blessings to the doomed young man. One woman, she sounded old, even gave Trevor the Blessing of Omni. A moment later there came a sharp howl from that same crate, and a flood of hushed whispers. Leto looked back over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow, but just made a sharp noise with his lips and resumed his slow ambling.

After some time, the three descended a wooden flight of stairs, into what appeared to be a hollowed out, man-made cave beneath The Scantly Clad. It was damp, and water droplets plinked down from the ceiling on to the gravel strewn floor. Unlike the storage rooms for the human cargo, this place was brightly lit by some large torches. When they finally arrived down on what Trevor assumed was the killing floor, he was tied to a post by both his hands and legs. Was the ghost going to do anything? Had that all seriously been complete insanity? If so, it had definitely not turned out the way Trevor had planned. Then, like a bat or crow, the cloaked figure landed in front of Trevor once more. In the bright light, he didn't appear to be some scaly monster. He was actually kind of a good looking dude, with long black hair, a metal hairband and...uh...red swirly eyes? Leto took the liberty of easing his bulk onto an overturned fish-gutting trough and let the pretty-boy speak.

"Normally we don't bother giving you fools a chance to talk before killing you, but you've got my attention. I'm curious how Lady got to you."

Wait so...so was this guy running Leto's entire operation? Was Leto Natrian just a front man for this sicko's schemes? Trevor's mind was racing, but he felt a gentle tugging from the ghost, as if to remind Trevor that he was in good hands. Hypothetically. At least he knew that he was still imbued with the power of a Prime, probably. Shit.

Say nothing.

Well, that had honestly been Trevor's plan. The alternative was begging for his dear life, but his mind was drifting back to the time when his brother had been against the wall, with four stormtroopers looking down the long end of their rifles at him. He hadn't flinched, nor given ground. He stared his death right in the eye, and that was exactly what Trevor was going to do. As it turned out, this was a very bad idea in this scenario, as the second Trevor made eye contact with the cloaked dude, the world...well, it went funny.

Trevor suddenly found himself crucified, hung on a black cross in the middle of a gigantic ocean, with dull grey clouds in every direction. He screamed, what with the nails in his hands, but it wasn't like this robed guy cared. He slowly walked towards Trevor, red eyes blazing, his features completely placid.

"Welcome to my genjutsu. In this world of your mind, we'll have plenty of time to talk about where you got your orders." the robed man said, never blinking.

"My name is Uchiha Itachi. I already know who you are. It's pointless to try and resist this, so just accept it and let me know everything."

Trevor suddenly perked up.

"Wait, Uchiha? Like Sasuke Uchiha? That guy-" Trevor was cut off by his own screams as a flock of crows descended on him and tore at his flesh mercilessly. Once the pain had grown beyond the pale, the flock dispersed, leaving Trevor shaking, dripping with sweat and tears. The robed ninja spoke up again, his voice painfully soft.

"I can maintain this indefinitely. I can rip your flesh a thousand times for hours before even a moment passes in the physical world."

Trevor took in deep breaths, as something in him shifted. Perhaps it was resignation to his fate, or just his familial stubbornness, but his voice suddenly took on a harsh, rasping edge.

"Oh yeah? And then what? Pretty sure there's nothing worse you could do."

Itachi laughed softly.

"Perhaps not. But you will fulfill one final use, once I convert your Secondary body back into Omnilium. I look forward to deconstructing you, actually. I have reason to believe that your attempt at increased importance within the Omniverse will have ripened your value." Itachi said, taking a few steps closer to where Trevor hung. Trevor shivered with a deep cold as the wounds all over his body continued to rage in painful anger. When the ghost had asked him to be brave...he hadn't anticipated this. Nothing like this. This was too much. And...what? Primes could do that? Suck the Omnilium out of a Secondary's body until they were nothing but memories? No wonder Leto was pulling so much damn money out of the people in this operation. He was literally pulling money out of them.

Excellent. We're done here.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Trevor muttered, his head drooping against his chest. Itachi squinted warily at the Secondary.

"What was that?" the akatuski ninja asked, his unblinking gaze never faltering. Trevor shook his head slowly and let out a hoarse, shuddering laugh.

"Fuck. Fuck. Nothing. Just talking to voices in my head."

A single, red eyed crow landed on Itachi's shoulder, peering at Trevor with a soulless eye.

"Voices?" the Uchiha brother asked. Trevor was about to answer, when things...changed again. Large, worming tendrils, like veins or capillaries, seemed to burst out of the very walls of existence, growing and permeating the mental landscape like some kind of pulsating, writhing blight. Green light poured down from the sky, as the sullen grey clouds broke, parting to make way for a black, featureless, three-eyed face to gaze down at the scene. Itachi took a step back, and then looked at Trevor in confusion. Trevor just drew his lips into a thin, slanting look of haplessness and shrugged his bleeding shoulders. Itachi's red eyes suddenly flared as his sharingan activated. As he scanned Trevor's body his eyes grew even wider. Trevor blinked and the nightmare seemed to end. Found himself staring at the gravel floor again, with his hands and legs somehow free. Leto, the thug and Itachi were all on their feet with their swords drawn, seemingly stunned by something behind Trevor.

Or no...they were stunned at Trevor. The Secondary suddenly realized that a green light was pouring from his eyes, and somehow, a third eye had pried itself open on his face, just below his right. Also? His mouth was gone. So there was that. His body seemed to follow intuitive instincts as the three adversaries closed in. As the two pirates dashed in from the left, a wall of shimmering space seemed to bend outwards, blocking their clumsy advance. Itachi was much more deft, but as he dashed towards Trevor with a blinding sprint, a sharp white light burst out of his eyes. Itachi screamed in agony and clasped a hand over his own red eyes, stumbling off to the side.

"Uh..."

Run.

There was no need to tell Trevor twice. He was still reeling from the concussion and mental ravaging he had suffered, but he was still able to book it up the steps and into the darkness of the cargo storage areas. He didn't look back. He couldn't look back. There was no telling what that Itachi guy was capable of, or, more importantly, what Trevor was capable of. He ran until his lungs burned, and the stair way up into the Scantly Clad came into view. He had no idea how he had managed to traverse the pitch blackness of the cargo rooms, but he had. He guessed that he had the ghost to thank for that. With a smile, Trevor clambered up the steps, threw open the trap door and was met with the scowling face of Itachi Uchiha. Trevor's face went completely white. This time, Itachi left nothing to chance, and with just a quick swipe of his hand, sent three kunai plunging into Trevor's gut. The boy was sent crashing down the steps, back into the darkness, with the cruel metal blades falling out of their wounds and clattering on the wooden floor.

"N...no. That..." he gasped, trying to stand back up. Itachi slowly descended the staircase, eyes blazing furiously.

"Show yourself." he snapped. Trevor wasn't exactly sure what Itachi meant, but kinda figured it out when he proceeded to vomit black smoke out onto the ground. The dark vapors twisted and spun for just a moment before careening up the steps, past Itachi.

"No you don't." Itachi growled, and sprinted after the cloud with otherworldly speed.

Thus, Trevor Vlano was left, bleeding out, on the basement floor of The Scantly Clad. He could hear heavy footfalls approaching, but he was fading. A spotty darkness was encroaching on the edges of his vision, adding even more umbral obscurity to the inky depths of the cargo room. Trevor distantly thought back to his brother, standing tall against the stormtroopers, facing his death in its face. Should he do the same? He had tried once already. But he was so tired, and Leto was an ugly bastard anyway. Maybe it was better just to let go.

So he did.

[Tearen Wover]

Meanwhile, there was quite the ruckus up within The Scantly Clad. Itachi dashed over the heads of patrons as the black cloud that was Nealaphh floated up into the rafters and out a ventilation window. Giving pursuit, the ex-shinobi burst into a flock of crows that keened loudly as they funneled through the small gap. It wasn't until Nealaphh was on the other end of The Scantly Clad's roof that the Enigma materialized again, his black-skinned form rapidly enrobed by the roiling ebon steam as it stood perfectly still. Itachi pulled his component parts together and stood, balanced precariously on the covered vent of a fireplace and stared at the strange aberration. It was clear that this creature, this Prime, also had some form of visual jutsu, but it seemed only capable of causing raw mental pain. How crude. Nealaphh itself was doing its best to block out the ninja's ability to scan it, but there was something more than mere mental power behind those eyes of his. So it was to be a fight then.

"It seems we both have a preference for using these Secondary puppets for our own benefit. So I gather that you're the one who Lady truly hired? Hm. Disappointing." the elder Uchiha said from behind the high collar of his robe. Nealaphh said nothing in response as its eyes flared once more. Itachi was loathe to avert his eyes from the creature, but it was a better option than simply allowing its mind to overpower his. Unsurprisingly, once the white brilliance faded, Nealaphh was gone, peering at Itachi from a distant rooftop across the street. Unintimidated, Itachi soared over the immense gap of the street below with a single leap and sent a fusillade of shuriken flying towards Nealaphh. Itachi was barely able to twirl out of the way as the shadow caught the incoming blades with its mind and flung them back the way they had come. In the fraction of a second that Itachi wasn't facing the god-mind, it teleported again, across yet another street. The God-Mind was attempting to draw the ex-shinobi away from dense center of Bilgewater, to a place where less people would witness the ensuing battle. There was no sense in causing a scene and gaining yet another bounty. The dueling pair of Primes continued in this fashion for almost two full minutes, traversing the low lying skyline of Bilgewater until they reached the arboreal depths of the tropical forest on the steamy mountains behind the port city.

By this point, Itachi had long figured out that Nealaphh could only teleport whenever he wasn't being looked at. At the same time, Itachi himself had to be wary of looking directly at the shadow, or suffer the mental consequences. It was quite an intriguing foe, to say the least. This was a disadvantage to Nealaphh, in that the only solid facts it knew about its foe was that it could overpower Itachi's genjutsu, and that the ninja possessed skills clearly beyond human agility. As the pair cruised through the canopy of the jungle, Itachi summoned a wealth of chakra from his reserves.

"Fire Style: Fireball Jutsu." he said in his placid voice. The ninja proceeded to blast an immense stream of flames at Nealaphh. The Enigma casually stepped off of the branch it had been standing on and descended to the jungle floor, far below, keeping its unblinking gaze focused on Itachi. The ex-shinobi burst once more into a cloud of crows and surged down towards Nealaphh. The god-mind prepared to raise a defense against the flock, but was caught off guard when it flew past him and recombined into Itachi. The ninja delivered an adroit snap kick to Nealaphh's surprised face, and sent the god-mind careening towards a nearby tree. Before it impacted, Itachi suddenly burst out from the darkness behind the shadow and stabbed a kunai forwards. The blade shattered through Nealaphh's stoney skin, releasing a strange, metallic black ooze.

"Don't be angry at yourself. This was the only possible outcome." the shinobi said in a soft tone. His crimson hues glanced towards Nealaphh, watching as the being shuddered violently. It wasn't with pain though. With a sharp grunt, Itachi burst away from Nealaphh as the ground itself was turned pitch black. A piercing, baleful scream pierced Itachi's mind like a spear, and the ex-shinobi was forced to grit his teeth, eyes bulging, as it ricocheted around his thoughts. A moment later, with a cacophonous boom, Itachi was sent flying, along with a great deal of vegetation and loamy jungle soil as Nealaphh released a monstrous telekinetic burst. The lone akatsuki was able to recover in mid-air and land on his feet, but rather than immediately counterattack, he stood his ground. Nealaphh slowly turned to face the ninja, its three eyes betraying no other emotion than determination. Itachi flinched as the creature's voice penetrated his psyche, forcing its words to be heard.

When you deny you deny the universe its infinity, it will always prove itself to you.

"I view reality as I see fit."

With this, the battle was back on. Itachi became nothing but a blur as he surged forwards in a startling burst of speed. Nealaphh was barely able to warp space in time to block the piercing stab that Itachi issued from the deep sleeves of his robe. Straining its mind, Nealaphh accelerated its own perception of time, giving it just enough speed to slink out of the way of the ninja's sudden attack from behind. The God-Mind got the unpleasant feeling that its opponent was barely tapping the depths of his potential, but there did seem to be a clear pattern to Itachi's attacks. This sudden miss did not interrupt Itachi's flow of strikes, however, and the ex-shinobi simply stepped forwards and landed a harsh slash across Nealaphh's chest. The glancing blow did little to actually injure the shadow, but it was insulting that someone should land more than a single blow on its flesh. And then another. Even with its enhanced speed, the Itachi human was simply too fast for Nealaphh to keep up with. As the Uchiha brother began to fold his hands together for another jutsu, however, the shadow took the opportunity to rocket up into the air, clear through the cover of the trees and into the clear night sky above. Another burning fireball followed the Enigma's path, but Nealaphh felt the attack coming long before the flames reached it. The roaring fire passed by Nealaphh like no more than a mere breeze as it was pushed aside by another bend in space. Itachi soon appeared at the topmost bough of one of the trees below, leering up at Nealaphh with hateful eyes. The two stared at each other for several seconds before Nealaphh sent more words to the ex-shinobi's mind.

Why bother fighting anymore? What are you trying to achieve?

Itachi maintained his flat expression.

"It's a matter of principal. I cannot let you reveal the true nature of my operations within the Omniverse, either."

The only way you could prevent that at this point would be by banishing me. Even then, that's no guarantee it won't be revealed sooner or later.

There was no response from the ex-shinobi.

Maybe an agreement can be reached. You have a hand in Leto Natrian's smuggling operations, yes?

"Is that really a question?"

Fair enough. The only reason I had for infiltrating your establishment was to satisfy the whims of Lady Jereson. Her payment was to be information. Perhaps you can satisfy this need instead.

"We'll see."

[Tearen Wover]

Nealaphh floated softly down to alight upon a tree next to the towering mahogany that Itachi was currently perched on. It was a show of trust, most likely lost on the stolid ninja, but a gesture nonetheless. Red eyes met green as a small breeze caused the surrounding foliage to whisper, as if in anticipation of another exchange of blows.

My original intent here on this island was to get information on the location of a possible secret portal from this verse to Coruscant. Negotiating with smugglers seemed like a suitable plan of action.

"There is no such thing."

Nealaphh paused for a long time, another breeze running between them. It was difficult to suppress the rising anger that the God-Mind felt coming up from deep within its core. Lady had been playing it for a fool. Nealaphh honestly should have expected as much. It should have relied more on its ability to solve a complex problem than simply hope for the possibility of an ideal solution. The fact that it had clung to such a hope for so long disgusted the shadow. It was better than this. It was better than clinging to misplaced dreams and unfettered optimism. Of course, there was a possibility that the ninja was lying, but Nealaphh had a strong sense that he was not. Besides, it had wasted enough time on this fool's errand already. It was time to move on to other solutions.

I thank you for your information. There is one last thing I would ask of you.

"Yes?"

Behind the fence of your brothel, there is a man. A Secondary. He is dressed in simple clothes and has a face that cannot be described. I would like you to kill him.

"Oh? I wasn't aware I was an assassin. But I suppose I should demand payment."

What is it that Primes even have to trade?

"Information, or rather, in my case, the concealment of information. If you and Sasuke ever cross paths, you must not reveal my presence to him. Promise this, and I will kill this...man."

Interesting, but agreeable. Nealaphh nodded slowly, a sort of standing bow and sign of respect.

Worry not. I shall not speak a word of any of this to anyone.

"Excellent. Well then. I guess this is where we part."

Indeed.

With that both Nealaphh and Itachi dispersed, one into a murder of crows, and the other into a signature dark mist. A moment later, no trace of either Prime remained. As Nealaphh gently drifted through the swaying boughs of the jungle trees, it considered whether or not to fulfill its promise of pain to Lady. After a moment's deliberation, however, the God-Mind decided against it. No more time needed to be wasted here. As such, the shadow made its way down the arboreal mountain and back into the black sea from which it had emerged not two days prior. Its next stop was the Nexus, and from there, the Endless Dunes.

...

Lady awoke the next morning with a bounce in her step. It was a beautiful day, and there was much to be done. After a hearty breakfast and the first three drinks of the day, the pirate lord kicked open the door to her beloved cabana and set off down the shaded jungle pathway to Bilgewater.

As she rounded a bend in the dirt road, however, she stopped cold in her tracks, with her face blanched. There, hanging from a tree, was the corpse of Bob, that weird, green eyed freak that she had hired to investigate Leto. She remained still for a moment before letting out a long sigh and continuing on her way, passing beneath the blood-drenched cadaver as it swayed gently. Another wannabe spy come and gone. Oh well. At least she wouldn't have to worry about him seeking revenge now.

The End