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glowy foreheads *drabble

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Korr wasn't exactly used to the 'new addition' to his team. Zera was a bit eccentric, and by all means far too naive for his tastes. When the Tallests had assigned her as his underling to help track down Coco, he'd found her to be more of a speed bump than an asset.

Still, when it came to weeks traveling in the dark void of space, he found her to be a welcome keepsake for his own sanity; someone to talk to, besides the metal walls of his ship and the artificial intelligence he'd affectionately started calling Lola. ( Space does weird shit to you )

Cute as she was he could never look at her from the perspective of sexual attraction, her innocence was child like and not something he was interested in corrupting - besides, associates weren't supposed to have relations-- it lead to a shitload of headaches.

It was on the fifth week of travel that he'd found himself fourty eight hours into a sleepless, coffee driven binge as he researched the oncoming galaxy they were approaching - rumors had spread in the rebel world that his target was residing alone on a dangerously hostile, desert wasteland that would take some strategy to simply reach. His eyes, the hue of blood, were stinging from how long he'd been staring at the glaring red holoscreens - all the planetary systems, all harboring the possibility of holding Coco away safe. Finally he leaned back into his seat, the thrusters in the hoverchair groaned to adjust the weight while he too let out a miserable, stumped breath. He had never been through so much hell just to track down one person.

"Korrrr~" Her voice, pleasant and soothing, rang out through his command center and made him fidget.

"What," his tone blunt and irate, he was in no mood for her shenanigans as he saw the blue eyed, jungle native pop around the corner. As per usual she was gleaming with her familiar, never ending smile - her eyes were lifted and brimming with happiness; such stupid, innocent happiness.

The small femme, adorned in a black jumpsuit ( that he'd forced her to wear - she had a habit of running around naked ) approached his throne with a steaming mug of black in her hand-- the cup, white with the Irken insignia logo printed on it, was utterly massive and unnecessary. His brows lifted briefly and he stared at it, puzzled, "I don't need THAT much coffee."

"But you've been awake for forty nine hours, you absolutely do, if you intend to keep up this pattern. I should remind you that auditory and visual hallucinations begin kicking in after fifty six hours."

".... Right," he replied as she set the cup down on his console, regardless of his complaints. He was too tired for idle conversation and turned back to his work with a bland stare, instantly he felt the remaining motivation he had drain from his already withered mind. He couldn't focus on this shit anymore.

"Korr?"

"Yes?" He glanced back to her, having expected her to return to her clinic or the kitchen. ( Ayy lmao )

"Can I ask something - it has to do with medicine - it isn't stupid I promise," she was quick to spit out her words, Korr had made it a habit to shut her down and remind her daily that this was business only - they wouldn't be friends, no matter how hard she tried. "Sure," he mused as he lifted his cup of bitter, black coffee to his lips. Perfect.

"How come you don't have the mark on your forehead?"

"The mark?"

"You know, the upside down triangle all the other Elites have. You don't have yours," she voiced as she stared at his forehead, evidentally puzzled. It was something he didn't mind humoring her in, even if it was brief.

The mug clinked softly as he set it back down, biding his time to think of how to respond.

"Well, most of the people who have it present constantly are die hard loyalists. They get it tattooed."

"Aren't you a loyalist, though? Why haven't you gotten yours?"

He paused at her question, feeling rather unsure of how to reply. A loyalist, yes - but even he wondered if he'd still be at the Empire's side in time.

"I'm neutral. I go where the money is, and I leave when the money is gone. My loyalty is to myself," he squinted at her, paying attention to her face as he waited for her to react. Fortunately, she remained doe eyed and curious - Zera had never been an Empire loyalist herself, considering she hadn't been made by them.

"Anyhow, there's a ... implant of sorts... right here..," he lifted his thumb and pressed it to his glabella - the space between his brow, though slightly above, ".... when its active, it glows red - its subtle, but plain as day obvious when you're on the field. It lets people know if your elite programming is active or not, essentially. This is useful for technicians, medics, and whoever... considering we aren't the safest people when we're in that state - even to our own kind."

Korr paused for a moment, hoping that his answer had been enough-- yet still, Zera remained unmoving and continued to stare. The Elite rolled his eyes and shifted his weight, grumbling as he went on, "so no - I don't have the tattoo, I find it useful to be able to tell when I'm a dangerous peckerhead, and when I'm not. Also, I'm not inking my fucking face."

"Oh... well, does it do anything else besides light up?"

"Yes."

"Like what?"

One attribute Zera did have was the ability to work around his 'no friends' rule, engage his mind and get him talking. He could see the pattern occurring and yet felt helpless to stop; socialization was a rarity, stubborn as he was he couldn't deny the zen that her voice brought. Fuck.

"This chip is the implant that controls whether or not the chemicals in your pak get released. If its really red - like literally you can see all the red through the skin- its completely opaque... then in that moment you know everyone is in danger, and you need to let us finish it out."

"Finish it out?"

"Finish out the chemical cycle. I don't know whats in there - I don't know the components, but we all have them. Two little capsules full of pretty glowing liquid - something about them being injected into your blood causes an insane reaction of strength and adrenaline, you can take bullets and keep walking - even as you're losing all your vital fluids. You can rip through steel, you can take anything - you feel nothing, nothing stops you except your fucking legs getting blown off."

"How long does it last?"

"Maybe fifteen minutes. You either overheat and pass out, or you die from the shit you get yourself into. Its the 'end game' release, I guess."

Curiosity peaked in the little doctor she smiled and tipped her head, "Does it ever get set off for no reason?"

"If you get hit in the head hard enough, yes. Yes it does. Or you know, if I get too stressed out or really fucked up."

"Should I worry if that ever happens?"

"Even I have to worry, Zera."


A derp ten minute drabble to go with an old sketch I came across here on the laptop ( I'm happy )

Nothing special, but, Korr ( while being deactivated and all ) never had the two capsules removed from his pak. While he doesn't pose a danger for the most part, if he were to find himself in a bad situation he can all too easily be set off and essentially, turn into a fucking monster for fifteen minutes or - until he dies. Eyyy lmao.

This would have taken place three to four years ago - them talking, since Zera is very much Korr's friend now ( practically daughter ) and he's not an Elite anymore.

Zera and Korr are mine

TRYING TO DELVE INTO MY BB'S BACKSTORIES EVEN IF ITS JUST TID BITS SORRY
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Skarita's avatar
KINDA FASCINATING Love the art and the story tbh. I miss being able to bang out drabbles like this, they're so good for exposition. All the glowies.

Keen to see how Korr would react to knowing Arabella basically has the blue chip version of that going on in her PAK tbh. Knockoff elite tech is the best elite tech, right?