Open Space and Hyperspace

Wayfarer-class medium transport, the Midnight Shadow - Engine Room

The wiry, diminutive, pale skinned and dark haired Nagai sits with her back against the life support system's console, her tools spread out all around her even though there isn't anything to fix in Shadow's engine room; she is, for a change, in tip-top shape since Connie has had the past two weeks to devote herself to nothing but the effort of getting the Wayfarer back in fighting form. The humming of the reactor core and hyperdrive create a, for Connie, lulling, comforting white noise that is both soothing and, with a bit of effort, gives her something to focus on rather than dwelling on anything she would rather not dwell on. Given the rest of the crew's overall silence of late, Connie suspects that she is not the only one trying to put events that are not yet so distant in the past that they have recovered fully from them behind her; everyone has, for the most part, been keeping themselves to themselves and generally avoiding everyone else out of the fear, Connie assumes, of courting the possibility of talking about what they'd all endured not so long ago.

Hopefully, Connie thinks as she lifts her hands and pushes her chin length black hair back off of her forehead with a sigh while settling herself more comfortably against the life support system's console, the job they are on their way to take on will give them all something to focus on other than the past. Their employer, or rather their employer's intermediary, was not terribly upfront about what the job is; giving them only a set of coordinates to which they are to go in order to pick up whatever it is they will then be transporting to where ever it is they will be told to transport it when picking whatever it is up. Connie is pretty sure that, had the credits involved not been as enticing as the intermediary promised, Ade would have have told him to shove off; but the credits proved enough to make putting up with the secrecy tolerable and so, well  . . . here they are, hurtling through hyperspace towards where ever it is that they are hurtling towards.

Looking over towards the door leading out into the common area, Connie appears to listen to something or someone briefly before, with a groan, telling the something or someone even though their is no one else in the engine room and nothing other than Shadow's innards, "Fine, fine, I guess we can go now." Beginning to gather her tools and return them to the pouches of her tool belt, Connie sullenly adds as though expecting to be objected to, "I'm getting a drink and I don't wanna hear anything from you about it. Got it?" Nodding when, presumably, whoever she is addressing or believes she is addressing agrees with her, Connie says with an air of mild relief mixed with a trace of suspicion , "Good," and then, having finished with collecting her tools, stands and unzips the oil, grease and grime stained, olive colored coverall she is wearing over a sleeveless black tee as she starts walking for the door, unlaced combat boots thumping on the floor as she walks with not wholly exaggerated reluctance towards and then through it.

There isn't, at the moment, anyone in the common room and so, after finding a half full bottle of Whyren's Reserve and a glass that looks clean enough, Connie drops into one of the chairs facing the dejarik table and, as she pours herself a generously sized shot of whiskey, asks the empty seat across from her's, "Wanna play a game?" There is no answer from the seat, which is, save for in the Nagai's delusional version of reality, as empty as it seems, nor does the hologame table power on and yet Connie looks at the board as though it has and, taking a drink, tells the empty chair, "Your move," and then watches the board expectantly as though a move will soon be made . . .

Wayfarer-class medium transport, the Midnight Shadow - Common Area

Connie looks up from the empty dejarik table when Racheal's voice comes over the intercom, announcing that they are nearing their destination, and then, rolling her eyes with a sigh, motions as though beckoning whomever is in the chair opposite her's to sit back down as she says, "Hey, hey, we've still got time duder; plenty of time for me to finish ya off. Lifting her glass with a triumphant grin, Connie adds, Nice try though. Groaning in response to something the figment of her imagination apparently says, Connie points towards her chest with her free hand and replies, What does it matter? I'm not going on the ground. Just the mechanic, 'member? Only reason you're goin' is 'cause Mack n' Dax aren't with us anyway. 'sides, it's just a pick up. Not like anything's gonna happen, right? Chuckling with a nod of her head after the unseen occupant of the chair opposite her's makes a comment, Connie says, You make a good point. F'got who we're working with. Prob'ly run into another angry ex of Ade's or somethin'. Beginning to take a drink, Connie says, That or . . ." and then, the glass halting before her lips, falls silent, the animation bleeding from her face as though a switch has been flipped off. Sitting silent and still for a moment, the Nagai's posture slowly goes from slack and idle to straight backed and poised.

Setting the glass down on the dejarik board, the Nagai stands, saying to the empty room in a lower pitched, more gruff than she had used only a moment before, "Stay on the ship," before walking towards the door leading to the cargo hold and then heading through. Walking to her quarters, the Nagai drops her tool belt onto her bunk and, as Adrien issues his orders over the intercom, checks the DC-15s she picks up from a side table before tucking it into the left side of her belt, angling the handle to make it easier to draw if needed. Securing one Tehk'la blade at the small of her back and a second in the side of her right boot, the Nagai grabs a black Neo-leather jacket on her way out of her quarters and puts it on as she returns to the common room to wait for the ship to set down and the other crew members that will be disembarking to arrive.

Adrien hated being this close to the Core, there was too much law here, too many prying eyes, and not enough people you can trust. At least the Mid Rim and beyond you knew what to expect: pirates, thieves, you could always trust someone to be dishonest there, and no one wanted to lock you up then throw away the key, no one in the Rim was that cruel, they'd end it quickly. But that was neither here nor there, they were there on a legitimate run this time, simple pickup and delivery job. Or at least that's what the client would want you to believe, Adrien suspected differently which is exactly why he wanted to be quick about it, "no questions asked" jobs are always a bit more shady than they would lead you to believe. The client wanted a single crate which was labeled to have extremely valuable contents. There was also the fact that it was an anonymous contact which to him screamed Sector Rangers set up or at the very least this guy had raised some red flags, which rose some red flags for Adrien. He looked down at Rachael and she nodded at his last order. He nodded in return and rested his hand on her shoulder for a moment before turning to walk out of the cockpit and down the hall to the common area and waited by the airlock for Nika to arrive since Connie, or Forseti rather, was already here. Adrien game "him" a nod as he stood silently

It was so strange aboard the ship with all the silence and Adrien had barely seen Nika since Nar Shaddaa, and though he hadn't said it he missed her. But he could tell just from the limited interaction they had had in passing that there was something different about her, he hadn't seen her in a dress, he hadn't seen her "pretty" dagger, and to top it off she seemed to carry herself differently, if he didn't know better he'd say there was Nika doppelganger too, but that just seemed ridiculous.

*Nika. Her distinct scent filled his nostrils as she entered the room. Cinnamon, and a faint hint of sweat. He must have caught her in the middle of one of her training sessions and not given her sufficient time to shower as she normally would, nonetheless there was no sweeter smell to him than her scent.**He nodded as she spoke, barely glancing over his shoulder at her, just enough to know the distance she was from him.**He couldn't look at her, he was ashamed to, he had promised to protect her and keep her safe and in that regard he had failed miserably time and time again. And now look at her, she's changed, hardened, not the same princess he'd met so long ago, not the same person he'd fallen in love with. He had only himself to blame, had he been stronger or more alert none of this would have happened. At least not in his mind. He carried the weight of the lost square on his shoulders and it was a heavy burden to bear, but he did because it was his to bear.*

*Drawing his enforcer pistol he checked the cartridge and twirled the gun around examining it quickly before catching it in a firm grip.* Eyes up, ears to the ground. No trouble if we can avoid it. *He knew that was a long shot to say they wouldn't have any trouble. Adrien was no fool, someone was hunting him and it was someone with money and power, they did after all go through the trouble of cloning him near perfectly and then adding "upgrades" to the science project.

He could see the look in some of their eyes too, they weren't entirely sure that he was the real Adrien, they had been fooled before. They feared him, didn't trust him, but he could tell they wanted to.

And then Rachael's voice came back over the intercom.**He slid his pistol into his holster as her announcement began.*

=Rachael Lurov=
Arriving at Coruscant in 3..2..

Secluded within the darkness of his vessel’s lounge, Alpharius reclined in his Chair’s embrace. His mind was weary and his body was wracked by phantom aches. The day’s events had been arduous upon the assassin, putting his ability to act under extreme pressure. He had assumed the role of a dead man and no one seemed the wiser, when he went about the deceased’s routine schedule. The experience was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time, but when it was all over his body felt utterly drained of its vitality. Moving onto the next phase of the hunt, Alpharius groaned as he sat up from his chair and activated an encrypted channel. The hooded woman from earlier that day had flashed to life as the hololithic terminal activated its projectors. Wearing a tired smile upon his face, Alpharius greeted the image of the shrouded reptile. “I have successfully infiltrated CorSec and garnered a lead. It seems there is a few investigations that the Corellian’s have opened up in regards to a Victory II – Class Star Destroyer, Designate; Bounty. I have a feeling that Aurelia managed to slip on board the vessel as it made a break for Hutt Space.” Beneath the cowl of her hood, Alpharius could see a small frown begin to supplant her formerly neutral smirk. By that look alone he knew he would have to do some explaining, but having worked with Handlers like her before, he had a multitude of answers ready for when she spoke her question. “Hutt Space? How exactly did you come to that conclusion, for the galaxy is a big place. They might not be headed in that direction.” Alpharius nodded curtly. “For that you may be right, however the Ion trail both I and CorSec had found was a direct heading in the direction of either Nal Hutta or Nar Shaddaa. Though knowing the reputation of Nal Hutta, being the Hutt’s adopted homeworld and all, I have a feeling they are dropping anchor at Nar Shaddaa.” The hooded woman shook her head. “Agent, there is atleast several star systems between the Corellian sector and that of Nal Hutta. You are sure they would be heading there?” Alpharius nodded. He knew it in his guts that anyone wanting to lose themselves in the midst of a hunt would head to Hutt space and start a new life. It was something one of the previous owners of the suit had done, another assassin bearing the same name. “Aye, Nar Shaddaa is the smuggler’s moon and anyone can get lost within that city world. If she’s a smart girl, that’s where she will be.” The hooded woman’s arms crossed above her chest, a look of contempt played out along her face. “Then so be it. I shall update your mission log and will look forward to the report once you’ve apprehended the target.” The hooded woman paused for a moment; as if she was letting her words seep into the assassin’s thoughts. “Do try and not leave a horrid mess for me to clean up this time, Agent. Coruscant is still livid with your show of skill in the Underworld.” Alpharius chuckled softly. “Understood.” Before he terminated the transmission, something else nagged at his mind. It was Aiden and his family back on Corellia. “I need to ask a favour of you.” He said, his voice betraying the fact that his mind was distant. “The CorSec officer that died in the line of duty, the one who’s Identity I had taken. Aiden. Could you see to the wellbeing of his family for me? I want them to know that he died a hero. Have that slicer of your embellish the tale to sound Heroic so he can be honoured in death, perhaps this gifted vessel was boarded by a vengeful gang. Just enough to give the family the closure they need...” The hooded woman tilted her head in surprise, the features of her face becoming more apparent despite being bathed in the blue haze of the hologram. “I never knew you could have the capacity for compassion agent.” Alpharius quickly interrupted before she had gotten the wrong idea. “It’s a known side effect of the flash training; his emotions as a father and husband were imprinted over mine. Such sentimental thoughts towards his family are to be expected.” The assassin watched as the woman figured he was telling the truth, for such examples had happened in the past. The worst being a full rewritten personality, where an agent had truly believed he was the man whose Identity he had assumed. As you say, then. I will see to it personally, that Aiden is gunned down in the line of duty with full honours. We will release the body to his family and several of our agents will bear him home, under the guise of fellow CorSec officers.” She paused before letting out a heavy sigh. “Anything else?” Alpharius shook his head. “No, Alpharius out.”

Terminating the transmission, the assassin leaned back into the padded chair and kicked his feet onto the terminal. As soon as he had boarded his vessel, he had stripped himself of the Corellian attire and donned his suit. The skin tight and form fitting body glove accepted him back like a long lost lover, brushing against his skin with a heartfelt embrace. Lengths of black fabric that hug to his legs gently placed themselves down upon the surface of the terminal, hitting a multitude of buttons and switches as they did so. Alpharius did not care what the result of his action was, as he had finally earned a moment of rest before the mission preparations would begin. His eyes were closed and he felt the warmth of his suit regulate and adjust the circulation of his body heat, spreading its loving hands to every portion of his body. Within the darkness of his hooded eyes, the assassin began to drift into a dream like trance. His fatigue had finally got the best of him. In the mist haze of his subconscious mind, Alpharius came face to face with the mind of the man whom wore the suit. Arcanus had his hands curled into fists and placed upon his hips. Upon his lips the man wore a small smile, showing that he was happy to see the assassin. Like always the Jedi Knight was clad in his torn white robes, stained with blood and the vegetation of the world that had broken his mind, and wore a scruffy beard around the length of his jaw. A disheveled mane of soot coated hair hung from the man’s scalp, adding a feral grace to his primitive visage. “Alpharius, it is good to see you again.” The assassin crossed his arms atop his chest and leant slightly backwards. “As it is good to see you too, Arcanus. So, why have you called me here?” The Jedi Knight nodded as his hands fell away from his hips to hang wistfully at his side. “I called you here to speak of something. When your previous occupant had found me several months ago, I was a broken shell of a man. The love of my life was devoured by that death world and everything I knew died with my integrity. You saved me that day, as you have given my body and my mind the chance it needs to recuperate. What I seek from you now, is a release from your service. I wish to be free to return to my duties as a Jedi, I no longer desire to be a part of your guild of assassins and thieves.” Alpharius’ laughter began slowly at first, and then began to resound within the empty space of Arcanus’ mind. “You seek to depart from my service? Do you even recall the bargain that was struck when you donned the mantle of Alpharius? All whom bear my suit must serve until their dying breath, the gift of Infinity has given you the life you deserve and the price of your soul is not too much to ask for in return, yes?” Arcanus’ eyes narrowed. “My soul is who I am; it is what makes me not only a Jedi but someone unique in a vast ocean of stars. I am afraid I will have to renege our contract, as I do not want the blood of the innocent upon my hands.” Alpharius’ laughter stopped suddenly, the silence that ensued thereafter was drawn taut and razor thin. “I am truly sorry Jedi, but once the bargain has been sealed in the blood of your enemies it can never…” The assassin paused, letting his apparition stalk into the space behind Arcanus. “… It can never be reneged. You are to be my vessel until the stars themselves burn cold. When I say jump, you will ask how high. When I say kill him, you will do so without hesitation.” His tone became a whisper now, as the assassin spoke softly into the Jedi’s ear. “Do this, and I may consider letting your soul go free. Do this for me and I will let you join with the force, rather than with the power of infinity. Effectively living out each day of your life, without being able to change what has been done. You will see the horrors of the death world, over and over again, each time unable to do what you should have done. Or, I shall release your soul to the currents of the force, where you may be able to rest peacefully. Defy me and die a fate worse than death, or obey and rest in blissful ignorance. The choice is yours.” The Jedi sighed heavily as the options were laid out upon the table before him. Go against everything he stood for and die in peace, or live within the past watching in agony as his loved ones died about him an infinite number of times. The choices were slim and there was not much he could do, Arcanus needed more time yet Alpharius was unwilling to give it. “Fine; my body is yours to use until the day I am released from service. Now leave me be, so I may make peace with what's left of my soul.” Alpharius laughed, for he had beaten the great Jedi Knight once again! In time he would try this stunt once more, it was inevitable with all paragons of justice and good. However the idea of controlling the Jedi Knight so utterly was too tempting an offer to pass up. If only he had the time to learn how to subtly influence his body’s manipulation of the force. Perhaps he would finally grow to control what he was deprived of since his creation nearly thirty millennia ago. Opening his eyes, an expression of pride came across his lips. Alpharius was once again whole.

Lifting his feet off the terminal, the assassin noted that in his fitful dream like trance, he had activated the hololithic projectors of his terminal. Before him span the slowly rotating image of a woman with long flowing hair and familiar facial features. Upon closer inspection, Alpharius had determined that this was yet another image of his target. A beautiful woman clad in clothes befitting a street urchin, dirt caked upon her face and soot staining her hair. The details were marvelous for something spawned from a projector, and Alpharius could not determine why he felt odd when he gazed upon the flickering form of Aurelia. Could it be that the Jedi whom wore the suit and the incumbent memories of the dead CorSec Officer had altered his line of thought? Could he now be emerging from his state of cool detachment to fall into the realm of mortals, to embrace their vices as his own? Alpharius hoped that was not the case. The next target. The next kill. That was all that mattered in the end. Each death brought the galaxy closer and closer to peace and, a time where he would be able to lay down his burdens and rest. Ever since he was woven together by the hands that be, the universe was embroiled in a bitter struggle for supremacy. It had to end by his hands, and no others. For he was there at the beginning, only he knew the ultimate fate of what was to come. For all that knowledge, he still knew nothing of the sting of a lonely heart. Pulling himself from the chair and striding across the deck, Alpharius came to rest before his bar. Packed full with various assortments of alcohol from around the galaxy, the assassin fell back upon a drink his fourth host had favoured. Withdrawing an emerald bottle from its housing within his cabinet, the assassin eyed the amber liquid inside as a sparkle twinkled within the corner of his eye. It was a vintage wine that was bottled in a bygone era and frozen in carbonite to preserve the flavour. Spinning the cut glass about in his hand, he saw the year in which it was bottled and let a smile curl across his face. It was old, far older than a bottle of wine in this age should ever be. With a twist of his wrist, his combat blade was withdrawn from its sheathe. He dragged the edge of the blade along the rim of the cork and removed the covering. Placing the knife upon the counter and pulling out a corkscrew, the assassin popped the top from the bottle and placed it beside the knife. Alpharius lifted the bottle of wine to his nose and sniffed the pungent contents. The wine had a savoury sweet scent that belied its true age; to Alpharius it was as if the wine was bottled a mere month ago. He let satisfaction play out over his face, knowing that he would soon rid his mind of Aiden’s memories and let the bliss of a good wine grace his tongue. Placing an elegant crystal chalice upon the counter and filling it with the contents of the ancient wine, the twinkle in Alpharuis’ eyes became a look of unbridled lust. The sooner he finished savouring the taste, the sooner his thoughts could return to their detached state.

Sweeping the goblet up into his hand and bathing his tongue in the amber liquid, thousands of sensations prickled across his tongue. So many fruits assaulted his taste buds that he had almost lost track of which ones were which. The alcohol took effect almost immediately, and the assassin felt his mind slowly clear. Opening his eyes after the first mouthful of wine had settled into his gullet, Alpharius found himself gazing upon the flickering azure form of Aurelia, his newest target. She was a beautiful woman, even before the wine started to sink its claws into the meat of his mind. The way this photo had placed her hair framed the striking figure of her face, giving off an almost youthful visage. Even though she was disheveled and filthy, her looks broke through the vile layer obscuring her form. She had the body of a dancer, but Alpharius doubted that she could even move her feet with such co-ordination. He wanted to see what she would look like without the falsehood of a hololithic display, would the image produced by his ships computer be able to match her real life counterpart? Deciding that it would be close enough, the assassin took another sip of his corn coloured wine. Placing the glass down upon the counter, Alpharius strode the length of the deck and took the computer generated image in his arms. She may look like a dancer and lack the skills, but he would enjoy the image while it lasted. His vessels computer complied with the silent demands of its master and caused the holographic image to spring to life. Aurelia Corscani became real before his eyes, and took his outstretched hand. Alpharius felt nothing by such an embrace, but his heart warmed to know that his ship anticipated this and reacted accordingly. Soft music began to fill the freighter’s lounge and almost instantly the assassin began moving his feet to the beat. They circled and spun about the ship’s compartment, moving in time to an ancient dance that was once taught to Alderaanian nobles; before their planet was dashed to dust. As Alpharius closed his eyes, the computer began to alter Aurelia’s image to one that befit the occasion. Her hair was cleaned and held up in an elegant knot, and her clothes were exchanged for a long ice mint dress that left her back exposed. Glittering diamond loops hung from her ears and a sparkling chain of gold chains were laid about her neck. She became, in an instant, the most beautiful thing the computer had ever seen. When Alpharius opened his eyes, his heart stopped within his chest. Thousands of women across the ages played through his mind in that breathtaking moment, each one the very paragon of beauty. This woman, the one he had been sent to track down and return to Coruscant with, topped the list. Breaking the trance with a blink, the assassin turned back towards the counter and drained the chalice of the wine. Pouring himself another, Alpharius found he was no longer alone. The holographic image of Aurelia had moved from where he had left her and appeared beside him with a digital glass in hand. What the hell is going on, the assassin wondered as he drained yet another goblet of its contents.

“It is a lovely night for a drink,” The Hologram said, speaking with a voice generated on a whim by the vessel’s logistical core. “And I want to thank you for it has been a while since I’ve had a chance to dance.” Alpharius repressed the urge to snort. So this was one of the upgrades his last handler was talking about, a state of the art holographic system installed within his lounge for practise and leisure purposes. Downing yet another glass of the corn coloured wine, he relented to his computers wishes and began to play along with the simulation. Who knows, something like this might actually take place upon the filth encrusted world of Nar Shaddaa, and he would need the practise in order to get this woman to come with him willingly. “You’re most welcome, my lady. It has been a pleasure being your dance partner this wonderful evening.” His tone made the statement sound forced, and the computer picked up on the lack of sincerity. The image flashed red and flickered back to its original position, leaning atop the counter with drink in hand. What she had said was repeated, and Alpharius had worked on sounding honest with his words despite lacking the feelings to hammer them home. For what seemed like hours on end, he worked on his failings in seduction. That all changed however when he had made a break through, and said something that his vessel had considered a very seductive statement. With the bottle of wine empty of its delicious contents, Alpharius was well and truly drunk. His actions were no longer his own and he reacted accordingly to what was placed before him. Being able to let go of his detached self was the key, he had to involve himself in the conversation and really sell the image that he was an attractive gentleman with a mysteriously seductive side. As the simulated day began to fade away and night began to take hold of the ship, Alpharius had drifted over to the table situated in the far corner of the lounge. His holographic companion had joined him, hanging off his arm while she whispered sweet nothings into his ear. This was bliss, his intoxicated mind had surmised. Alpharius finally knew what was needed, in order to truly appreciate what the memories of those women meant to the previous bearers of the suit. He also determined what he would have to do in order to garner Aurelia’s trust before he slapped her wrists in irons. Deception and lies were to pass between the two, and then like a snake the assassin would strike. With an intoxicated look of satisfaction playing across his face, Alpharius fell back into the padded embrace of the booth. The phantom Aurelia took this as a sign to crawl atop the drifting assassin, and plant a chastise kiss upon his brow. “End simulation.” Alpharius managed, and the hololithic image of his target faded from existence. That was enough of that for tonight, he mused, for it is time to prepare for the mission to come. Padding across the deck of the lounge, the assassin moved through the interior of his vessel until he reached his cabin. Depressing the buttons adorning his keypad several times, his door slid open revealing the room within. Opening the compartment with his cot, Alpharius crashed atop his bed and fell into a deep restful sleep. As the freighter travelled through the azure tunnel of hyperspace, silence took hold of the vessel. In the darkness of his quarters, Alpharius slipped through the memories of the past. Even while the body within had slept, the suit without began preparing the day ahead. The body’s dreams were influenced by the choices made by the suit, subtly changing small details so that when the body awoke it would know what needed to be done. When that menial task was complete, Alpharius joined with his sleeping compatriot and relished in the blissful silence echoing through his vessel. He had to enjoy it, for such a sensation would not last forever…



And this concludes the first phase of the Hunt. To be continued...

Eralam's duster was draped over a chair. He accepted the glass of whiskey and turned back towards the swirling chaos of hyperspace.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," he said, expression neutral. "Her ability to collect information is astounding. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that she contacted you first, either."

He sighed and sipped his whiskey.

"I suppose that makes her your problem, then."

Thinking of her still hurt, but the fallen Whill was no stranger to pain. He might not use it like a Sith, but he didn't pretend it wasn't there, either. It was accepted, acknowledged, and dealt with. It would be a long time before he got over this particular hurt, but the whiskey numbed it, and being with Sin went a long way towards soothing it away.

Eralam turned away from the window to look at Sin. The question caught him off guard and snapped him out of his funk.

"Shards? Counting me..." he counted under his breath for a moment, fingers moving "...that makes none. The Network can't be everywhere."

While it wasn't immediately obvious, he had cast about with his mind, checking to be sure.

"Three offloaded at Dressel. The Network gives me wide berth, if I'm not undercover."

"They weren't Networked, in this instance, just 'crew.' They were warned by the one that was on the shuttle."

Having toasted his eyeballs with the swirly colors enough, Eralam joined Sin at the table.

"The vast majority of Shards aren't members of the Network, at least when it comes to contributing intel. Most are happy to just coast through life, much like organics. As for me, I'm retired from all that. I can't sneak into an R2 anymore."

"Sounds about right," the former Shard said, suddenly wary. He wasn't exactly a master of the nuances of conversation with organics, even this particular one, but he could tell she was building up to something. "You left out the bit about eclectic taste in music and the occasional foray into playing hero to a damsel in distress."