im sorry i have to rant im so fucking pissed
my exams end on 19th and I have to get rid of some books and buy some books which are quite pricy online so I had planned on going to college street on 20th and selling my books and buying the new ones at a cheap price and i was frankly really excited about it because all I get is a one day break to relax bcz i have to start studying for entrances from 21st so all I have is 20th and i wanted to spend it at college street and then get some food and basically have like a solo date kind of thing.
and i was so so excited about it i told my boyfriend about it like 500 times bcz i kept forgetting i've already mentioned it and it was literally on my mind a lott so i kept bringing it up and ik it seems like not a big deal cz i can just sit at home and chill too but i literally do not get to go outside my house. like- the last time i went out was new years eve and after that the only time i've gone out is to school or to give my boards that is it. my mother has some weird like problem wiht me going out like even if i tell her that i just want to go to our terrace for 5 minutes just to get some fresh air she won't even allow that she'll be all suspicious and like sTaNd In ThE bAlCOnY aNd TaKe FrEsH aIr like she herself doesnt leave the house (and blames it on me and my brother ???? when have we ever stopped you bro, she said I HaVe To Be HeRe To KeEp An EyE like im 18 i dont need to be watched 24/7 stop blaming me for choices you put upon yourself) and i just feel so suffocated ALL THE TIME i feel so overstimulated and im so sick of rotting on my bed and i dont want to wait for some birthday party or friends meet up to be able to leave my goddamn house i just wanted to go and have a fun day and get me some books thats it.
anyway so initially the plan was that my mom would go along but something came up so she wanted to postpone it to 21st and i didn't want to bcz i'd already be missing 3 days bcz of my boyfriends birthday, holi and my brothers birthday (all of which are important and i dont want to miss which makes me the villain apparently bcz i should "adjust" and cancel my "parties" instead of trying to stick to my plan bcz that makes me too demanding and selfish apparently) so i suggested that ukw why dont u go do ur thing which came up and i'll go to college street by myself...which is when the solo date idea came which i had really wanted all along but didnt bring up bcz i knew she'd say no but now there's a valid reason for me to go alone so like, its a pretty easy fix i can just go alone but noooo. First of all,
I've been to college street multiple times before so its not like its an unknown area to me
im going by metro which is quite safe
im going when there is stark daylight and i will return home much much before it gets dark and im literally 18
she never lets me go anywhere alone, not even take ubers alone if i want to get back from somewhere my bf has to come drop me everytime and then go backwards to his house which is so so so stupid and i never get to go out alone unless accompanied by family or by a male friend, so obv when i said i'll go to college street alone she refused to let that happen and started screaming about how 'if its so important to go on 20th bcz u dont want to miss a day of studying then cancel ur 'parties' and study then' and i was like no its not about missing a day its just that there's a very easy and logical fix to this problem which is i go alone and its not inconveniencing anyone so why cant i just do that but she will not listen to that bcz im 'adamant' and 'everything has to be according to me' bcz i found a viable solution to the problem. so instead of letting me just go she was literally ready to pay much more money and buy the books online, like.....why cant i just go bro??? (and she keeps telling me im a waste of her money bcz i will amount to nothing in life and my education was a failed investment or wtv so like now why are u wasting more money??? im literally trying to save the money that u 'waste' on me so just let me ???)
anyway i called my dad last night and told him and he was super ok with the idea he said its a good idea that i go alone and that he would speak to her but then today when i asked her if dad spoke to her she said yes, we'll go on 20th and i was like .....we? so apparently she CANCELLED her previously immovable thing for which she wanted me to cancel my 'parties', she cancelled that and agreed to go with me on 20th just so that i dont get to go alone- like ???????????????? what is ur problemmmm
so obv i was super annoyed and i went on a whole ass rant about how i literally struggle to even cross roads bcz i dont know shit about basic travelling bcz all my life ive been in a car and its a running joke with all my guy friends that i 'cannot navigate' and 'dont know any places' and obv??? if im never allowed to go anywhere then how tf will i know the places- the only places i know is bcz recently i've been paying a lot of attention and asking my dad stuff about what roads to take to reach certain places and when i go out with my friends i kind of try and learn a bit but thats it i've only ever gone alone completely alone to two places which is my beauty parlour thats 5 minutes away from my house and one bazaar one time that was 2 bus stops away, thats it. thats my extent of public travelling alone. and now im supposed to go to a whole new STATE for college and i cant even call myself an auto without struggling. and like- is this not a basic life skill??? like ok yeah its not rocket science and i will probably figure it out even if i start later in life but why not now? most of my guy friends literally go everywhere alone, why not me? and my dad agreed with all of this but my mom was just like "you'll be in the hostel only, no need to go out of the campus" like ARE YOU FOR REAL????????? and she's like "if u want to learn skills learn how to cook" like ok yes i will also learn how to cook for sure but i wont have a fucking kitchen in the hostel but somehow cooking is an urgent skill i should learn but going places by myself is unimportant bcz i should just never? leave? the? hostel?
anyway after much screaming and shouting my dad gave up and just cut the call bcz he doesnt want to get into an argument with my mother and my mother was being all suspicious like why do u hAvE tO gO aLoNe AlL oF a SuDdEn even though i literally explained why i want to do this alone but she doesnt think thats valid. so she refuses to let me go and i asked her for one reason why i shouldnt cz usuallt its always "no u have exam what if smthn happens" but now i literally dont even have exam so whats ur excuse now? streets will always be unsafe forever so "what if smthn happens" is not a reason to never let me go out without a man so just gimme one reason and she couldnt give me a single reason she just said "i said no, thats it".
and now she's gone off about how im useless and blah blah and "high maintainance" bcz i want books and "everyone else (some pishi's son) just studies online" and so the whole option of college street is apparently now cancelled and she's trying to set up a whole ass kindle account (half the books i need arent even available as ebooks) just because i wanted to go by myself.
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Kismet
“Nine won't kneel,” Eight says, the sickly sterile glass-bottle green of the interrogation room casting them in a garish light.
Keeper frowns, all hard lines and age. The lamp swinging overhead casts his sharp features in angular shadows, deepening the discomfort meant for detainees. Currently, the room was empty: it was just an old man and his spy. “They will, if they know what is good for them.”
“They won't. You taught them to be that way,” Eight points out with the needle-thin end of his pipe, sitting daintily atop the durasteel table as if it were a chaise lounge, “like a good little Imperial. But not enough to bow to the Sith. They have their pride. Their independence. That is why they are,” He pauses. “the best".
Keeper arches a fine brow.
His weekly talks with the Cipher before him were something he secretly looked forward to, though the subject themselves varied from political headaches to anything as mundane as the weather. It was perhaps the only time he was allowed to parse the mystery of the man who called himself Eight- an agent who wore the moniker of a dead woman, and all that the title carried.
Very few were afforded such instances. Fewer still could keep up with his machinations or his mind. His method bred more enemies than friends, and Keeper often found himself assigning the minimum personnel to Eight on account of his difficult behavior.
Insights like these were a gift.
“If I didn't know any better, I would call you envious, Agent. Why the sudden interest?”
“Is it considered strange to be interested in our counterparts now?” Eight smiles at him.
Keeper finds it reminds him of the false face of a poisonous insect: permanently at ease, painted on, artificial, yet a warning and an invitation all at once. The smoke curls from his pipe, accentuating the silence in the air.
“No. Perhaps not.” Keeper replies, his hands still clasped behind his back.
“I'm not going to interfere, if that's what you're asking.”
Keeper pinches his thin nose bridge, the inflection in Eight’s voice alerting him prematurely to what was heading into unpleasant conversational territory of the migraine kind. Eight always did know how to read between the lines, and years of dancing around one another had made him adept at knowing the old man’s silence better than his words. “Not directly. We wouldn't be having this conversation at all if you weren't. In fact, I’m ordering you as of right now to do nothing.” He locks eyes with him, leaving no room for argument in the steeliness of his gaze. They stare at each other until the younger gives in.
“Bah, you're no fun,” Eight whines, turning away from him like a petulant child.
Keeper shakes his head. Eight was a handful and liked to make it everyone else's problem; it was how he was. Yet beneath that slacking attitude was a blade more sharply honed than any other, and woe befall those who failed to recognize its glint before it was too late. It made him effective. Impersonal. His instincts were good, if not better than any other in their division, and this made him as destructive as a precision-guided missile yet as accurate to his goals as a dart striking center.
Something to do with his ecology, Keeper recalled, though the specifics escaped him; Eight was Near-Human, yet found the Empire's distaste for aliens a “waste of time” and so waved the human-passing card more often than not.
His appearance was once again, a falsehood. His identity, a convenient lie. They spoke of him in dead-end rumors and baseless whispers that made him more of a ghost story inside Intelligence than a service member, the most prominent of these stories being that he had once been a Chiss woman who surgically altered her appearance to escape her previous life.
Eight did nothing to discourage it.
He never was one to follow the rules amidst Imperial rigidity, bending them every chance he was given and otherwise. Keeper suspected this was why the higher-ups kept him most cycles on Dromund Kaas- fearing he’d stray far out of bounds the minute they gave him any length of leash. For that, he and Keeper came to know one another very well.
By the time he’d returned to the present outside of the quagmire of his mental dossier on the agent, Eight had ditched all decorum to lie flat on his back atop the durasteel table with his folded hands cushioning the back of his head. Getting bored, it seemed.
“Credit for your thoughts?” Keeper asks, surprised by his own pleasant tone amidst the emptiness.
Eight exhales lungs full of smoke in reply. He removes one hand from behind his shock of white hair to hold his pipe between two fingers- “like a Red Light District whore,” some of the more…derogatory members of their branch had said. Said members had since been disciplined and lectured on their poor choice of verbage, but Keeper was inclined to agree that even the smallest of his habits were quite suggestive- no doubt intentional on his part. He made no effort to hide it. What was taught had become second nature, and in Eight’s case, he saw no division between his personal self and that of a Cipher.
He taps the ash from the thin pipe on the side of the table, extinguishing the thin trail of smoke that indicated their time was up.
“Let's make a deal,” Eight says, propping himself up on his elbows to twist around and look at Keeper with a heady light in his fawn eyes. It was routine. He’d propose a game, and they’d play accordingly. It was easier than arguing over mission specifics where Keeper knew Eight would force his own way regardless, and so he appealed to his penchant for gambling and let chance decide what path the agent chose to follow.
“Go ahead.”
“If Nine doesn't kneel, transfer the investigation of Jadus to me.”
Keeper pauses, the words dying on his tongue as he looks at his agent with nothing short of bewilderment. “What are you asking of me, Eight?” What could you possibly want from a man like that? goes unsaid between them, but Eight hears it in the stressed twitch of his lower lip, and smiles still.
His current fascination with Jadus was nothing new, but ever since he’d missed the debacle of the elusive Sith arriving at headquarters he’d been quiet. Moody, even. Planning something was an understatement- whatever was brewing in his head had been for weeks. Keeper almost didn't want to know.
Eight doesn't elaborate. That was how the game was played. Rules and rewards. No questions.
“If Nine doesn't kneel,” He repeats slowly, “I won't lift a finger.”
Keeper sticks him with a look that could wither water. “You are making me bet against the house.”
Eight shrugs. “It was your call.”
Keeper sighs- a deep one that comes from the depths of his diaphragm. Loathe as he was to admit it, Eight was right: Nine shone as a figure free from the manipulative claws of the Sith. Officers respected them for keeping their head unbowed- their quiet dignity made them the pride of Intelligence and that of the Imperial military. Those who stood up to their superiors were few and far in-between, and Keeper made it a point that Nine’s autonomy was to be protected. He had made it his life’s work to keep them free of their influence, in the hopes that their Empire could grow beyond their reach.
So why was Eight asking this of him?
“I don't want you anywhere near him.” Keeper shoots him down, the risk too great to be worth considering. He would not lose two Ciphers to a megalomaniac.
“Keeper.” Eight’s tone takes on a deadly gravity, one that Keeper recognizes as the calm before the storm.
“No, Eight.” Keeper holds his ground, his eyes stormy. He jabs an accusatory finger at the younger operative. “I bit my tongue when he came. I let him into our operations. He took our best- I will not give him more.”
Eight goes nonverbal. When he meets his unchallenged gaze again, there is darkness dawning in his eyes.
“A warrior protects his people from those who come from beyond the stars,” He speaks in the familiar purr of Cheunh, alien from the throat of one who lacked their blue skin, and Keeper sucks in a sharp intake of breath at the horror that overtakes him.
“Do not bring her into this!”
“To fight those who mean our way of life harm,” He continues, steady, like a mantra. His eyes bore into Keeper, seeing beyond him, digging beneath his skin and gently cutting him open layer by excruciating layer with all that they see in the twist of his aged features- all that he does not say.
“Keeper.” He repeats, sitting upright with his legs dangling. One hand grips the edge of the table, the other- to Keeper’s surprise and dismay, is extending his pipe to him in an offering for peace. He lets it swivel on the balance of his finger around, the mouthpiece facing Keeper. All the while, the set resolution of his gaze never leaves him, and Keeper glares at the item as if it offends him grossly.
Not out of anger towards his agent, but towards these Force-damned circumstances and the games they must play.
Keeper bites back a swear, taking the pipe from Eight’s outstretched fingers and stuffing it hastily into his thinly pressed lips. He inhales with all the professionalism of one exposed to far too many questionable substances in his youth and the desperation of a man who needs it for the days to come.
“I will use him, as he will use me. But if we do not take this chance to earn his trust, we risk losing the most powerful of allies we could gain.” Eight speaks smooth and low, his voice as delicate as garrote wire and twice as cutting to Keeper. “I will join him. It matters not whether he cares to have me by his side- only if I can turn his power into ours. Nine will not have to give themselves up.”
Keeper ruminates, though he hardly needs to. When it comes to risk and beings of immense danger, no one is better suited. He saw the way Nine stiffened at Jadus’ selection, the way the pain and suffering of the rest of Intelligence affected them. Jadus would break them.
Eight on the other hand, had nothing left inside to break.
He spits out a stream of smoke through the corner of his mouth- quick and unpleasant, to show his dissatisfaction. Keeper turns the pipe back over to Eight. His eyes speak of regret. “Damn you. Damn you and him.”
“Curse me later,” Eight says, lighting a weak flame beneath his pipe, “you haven't even seen how the dice rolls.”
—-----------------
Nine limps out of Jadus’ office smelling of burnt fabric and ozone. Their pride is in tatters, for what good they did to preserve it.
Eight watches from afar, hidden as blue collar personnel melted into the backdrop of the Sith sanctuary.
He touches a finger to his private comm.
“It’s my win, Keeper.”
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