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Author	Topic: Negachlorian (8 ABY; Winter, Luke, Cracken, OCs) updated 07/19
Rau_Fang Registered: Mar '05	Date Posted: 7/11 1:44pm Subject: Negachlorian (8 ABY; Winter, Luke, Cracken, OCs) updated 07/19 - Date Edited: 7/20 9:11pm (9 edits total) Edited By: Rau_Fang
	Title: Negachlorian Author: R_F Timeframe: 8 ABY - Pre-Thrawn Genre: Action/Thriller Characters: Winter, Airen Cracken, Luke Skywalker, OCs Summary: A New Republic agent is murdered on Kamino igniting the hunt for a dangerous terrorist with mysterious origins. Notes: I would like to thank the elusive, but trustworthy, Luton_Plunder for all of his patient support and beta-ing. Let's face it, I would never have gotten as far as I have without him. I've been notorious for starting a Fic and then dropping it after the first chapter. I assure you that won't happen this time. I almost have it all written so I can't turn back now! As you can probably tell, there will be violence. Star Wars is George Lucas' - - - Ten years ago on Dantooine... Ex was not convinced. Every particle of Ex's body cried out for the agent to show restraint, to release all of his sub-cognitive inhibitions. His chest wanted him to give in, to cave and crash like a building that had been built on sand that the rain washed away. His primitive instincts attempted design unbridled thought, so that the world would not be cast in shadows. He wanted to see all his actions cast in light of the concepts right and wrong, but the will that they exerted over his mind would never allow such freedom for his thoughts to wander. His only escape was for his consciousness to wrestle his conditioned mind to the ground. He walked down an empty corridor of a rebel base on a planet Ex vaguely knew as Dantooine. His motions were to be as followed: He was to infiltrate any rebel instillation that he was to find, alert the Empire to its existence and location, and disable the defenses. The conditions were implanted into Ex’s mind through psycho-hypnotization and drugs. Not only was he loyal to the mission, he was a slave to it. In his body and mind, he did not want to be a slave. Ex stopped. He was no longer going to be a pawn to the Empire. Falling to his knees, his muscles began to contract and release. He screamed and violently shuttered. His lips spattered and foam dripped down his lips along his jaw. His body was beginning to resist, tearing apart the chains that locked away his mind from his motor functions. As the chains snapped, they whipped against the side of his skull. He clawed at his head, leaving bloody streaks in his blonde hair. Revolutions were always bloody affairs, no different was the revolution that took place in his mind. He drew his pistol and wrestled with it on the ground. His thrashing had attracted the attention of several Rebel soldiers. They walled him in like a prison formed of flesh and bone and blasters. They attempted to make contact with him, but the struggle between the Imperial consciousness and his own was too fierce to make any sense of what they were telling him. They insisted with their blasters, targeting him as they would a suffering rapid animal. “Shoot me!” Ex demanded, “Shoot me, shoot!” He flailed his pistol through the air as he swiftly jumped to his feet. Muscling through chains that wrapped his arm, he brought it to his chest. His finger spazzed, releasing the potential energy of the pistol in the form of a bright yellow laser and a muffled scream. It struck his chest in a burning cloud of smoke and blood that spewed from his body. He collapsed to the unforgiving floor. Before he closed his eyes, giving into the dark cloud that collected in his eyes, he recognized the world for what it was and saw freedom he could grasp. There would be no more shadows. There would be no one controlling him ever again. Everything broke free, nothing mediated by the control of Imperial psyches. Ex felt sensations flood his nerves for the first time. He felt pain. - - - “Commander Cracken?” Winter stood at the open doorway of the room as Airen Cracken rooted through a pastel brown permacard box behind a bare faced desk. There were a plethora of these boxes scattered about the floor of the Intelligence Commander’s new office. It was scantly furnished, with only a couple of chairs surrounding the desk on the far side. Caged by four pale gray walls deep within the Imperial Palace, Winter marveled at the cold efficiency of the Empire. Pushing the clutter aside as he stood up, Cracken motioned for Winter to have a seat across the desk from him, “Winter, please come in. I am sorry about the mess. I hoped to get this done by the time you arrived.” “Understandable, the palace has been undergoing a lot of renovations lately. …” Winter crossed the room, navigating through a maze of boxes to reach the veteran commander’s desk. She shook his large paw-like hand and sat down the padded chair opposite from him. With her legs crossed and her back straight, she glanced about the room once more. It seemed to be growing smaller. “I know. It feels like a detention cell,” Cracken sighed as he dropped into his chair, “I was hoping for a nice view of the Coruscant skyline.” “Large windows and the intelligence business do not regularly mix, sir,” Winter quipped in her unaffected demeanor. “This is supposed to be the most secure place on Coruscant. Supposedly this room was used by Imperial Intel.” Cracken stared at one of the barren walls as if it was going to tell of the years of atrocities it had seen. Interrogations fraught with blood and drugs, black orders issued by backstabbers and criminals, and an icy tyrant that ran the twisted circus with an iron fist. There were violent ghosts haunting every corner of the Imperial Palace. Only its strategic value spared it from being raised to the ground. “Isard?” “No,” Cracken snapped out of his reverie, “She ran her operations off of the Lusankya. Although I’m sure she was no stranger to these walls. I’m sure I can liven this place up a little bit. I’ve got some Contruum pop-art I’m going to put up. But, at least we’ll have a permanent base of operations from now on.” Patiently waiting for Cracken to start steering the conversation towards the purpose for her being summoned to inner sanctum of the palace, Winter brushed some of her white-blonde hair from her face. Cracken calmly acknowledged the silence and a crooked grin spouted on his face. “I’ve heard a nasty rumor that you’re leaving us, Winter,” Cracken nonchalantly accused as he reclined in his chair. “Yes, sir. I have decided to aid Leia and the Provisional Council in any capacity that I can.” Winter coolly responded, “I will be turning in my resignation soon.” “Not too soon, I hope,” Cracken hesitantly spoke, attempting not to act disappointed. He could never be as stoic as Winter. “It should be on your desk within a month,” Winter was intrigued, “Did you call me in to convince me not to?” Cracken sighed, “Well, the Provisional Council could really use a talent such as yourself. They still have got a lot of work ahead of them. I wish there was way I could convince you to stay on intelligence. But you’ve already made up your mind, haven’t you? “Yes,” Winter insisted. “It’s frustrating to lose a skilled agent. I’ll have to find someone else to help keep tabs on Antilles and those rogues,” Cracken flashed a playful smile before rising from his seat, “Well then, perhaps you can make yourself useful for the last month or so that you’ll be with Intel. I have something that I could use your help with, Winter. Your memory tends to be more reliable than data archives.” He began to pace the room, scanning the boxes as he went. Each one was crudely labelled in black marker with different categories of things like data pad, archived, or communication. He eventually found a box printed with holo and began to search through it. Muttering under his breath about the disarray of his equipment, Cracken picked up a small holodevice and carried it over to the desk. “Winter, have you ever encountered this man?” Cracken questioned as he slapped the device onto the slick surface of the desk. A blue-tinted holo of a broad shouldered human male sprouted to life. Despite his powerful stature, he was strikingly handsome with a light beard framing his clenched jaw. Looking into the distance, he was a frozen snapshot in time. With one eye-brow raised, Winter leaned in to have a closer look. “Yes,” Winter answered as she pulled away from the image, returning back to her prim posture. “I was hoping you would,” With a serious look crossing is face, Cracken's his brow furrowed before going on to explain, “We lost our agent on Kamino. Gis Pir was an invaluable asset keepin tabs on the Kaminoans... and their cloning technology. Agent Pir sent me two holocoms before he did. The holo of the man is the first, presumably his killer. The second was of his death.” He slipped a datacard into the device. With a click and a whir, the shaking, distorted holo of a slender Kaminoan fading in and out sprung to life. Although it was impossible to read his facial expression, it was easy to tell Gispir was frightened by the way he fidgeted and kept glancing over his shoulder. Rivers of heavy rain ran across his white skin and soaked his clothes. “Commander Cracken,” The spattering, crackling audio reception of Pir's basic mimicked the poor quality of the image, “We have a problem. I believe there is a... suspicious man here pursuing technology... maybe Kaminoan cloning cylindars? He has been to meet with...” Both Cracken and Winter looked on with muted disgust as a hand wielding a vibroknife slid across the thin skin spread over Pir’s long neck. It delicately cut through the main artery nearly severing the head from the body. The Kaminoan gurgled as he disappeared from the communication. The holocomm fell silent. “Clones?” Winter mused aloud, mentally shaking off the vision of gruesome death, “Now, that is serious.” “I had Crix move a specOps team move in shortly after I received this,” Cracken continued with angry urgency, “The place was picked clean of evidence. No cylinders were stolen. Even the Kaminoans were clueless. They had no recollection of that... man, either. Which was suspicious. It would be highly unusual for the Kaminoans to hide something from us, but they might not have liked the heavy Republic presence on their planet. So the first holo is my only lead. I'm assuming that the man was his killer. Which would have been a dead end without you. What is his name, Winter?” “I do not know.” “What!?” Cracken was shocked that Winter would forget the man’s name, or forget anything for that matter. “He suffered from amnesia,” Winter continued, “He could not remember his name either. Only his callsign, Ex.” “Ex?! That's what they called him?” Cracken softly massaged the temples of his forehead. He could feel a headache coming to the forefront of his mind, “How do you know this… Ex?” “We met nine years ago on Dantooine,” Winter began, “He had been detained in the medical ward by the base guard. Apparently he was carrying out sabotage mission for Imperial Intel when he lost his mind and shot himself. General Vernan and I were responsible for interrogating him after he recovered. He never did completely recover. He could not remember his name, what planet he was from, or anybody in Imperial Intel he had worked with. All he could remember was carrying out a few assignments in a psychotic haze. He only managed to break free from the haze when he shot himself. He was useless at providing us information. He did genuinely wanted to help the Rebellion. As you can imagine, he harbored a certain distaste for the Empire.” Airen Cracken shook his head slowly, “I looked through all the Alliance archives and even a few salvaged Imperial datafiles. I never found anyone remotely similar to the man you are talking about. By all accounts this man is a ghost.” “Maybe someone destroyed his datafiles,” Winter shrugged, “Ex pursued active duty for Alliance Intel. Against my counsel otherwise, General Vernan eventually made arrangements to have him in the field. He was outstanding soldier and the Rebellion needed all the manpower it could muster, mentally stable or not. Unfortunately, I was never cleared to know his assignment. I never saw him again after Dantooine.” “So we are back where we started,” Cracken ran a hand through his graying hair as he muttered, “Nothing is more frustrating then special agents with amnesia. Why do they always get amnesia?” “There might be another lead,” Winter interjected, “Varri Nat'l mentioned him during negotiations.” “That terrorist?” Cracken cast Winter a confused glance, “Why didn’t we capitalize on her offer?” “The names she dropped were not valuable enough to acquit her of the charges of terrorism,” Winter explained, “The Alliance really needed a scapegoat following the capture of Coruscant. Remember how the public tore into Tycho?” “Yeah, I remember,” Cracken sighed before cynically continuing, “Of course, she was executed.” “No,” Winter shook her head, “she opposed the Empire.” “Do you know where she is being held?” Cracken’s expression brightened as he leaned forward in anticipation. “She is currently being held in a criminal facility on Hoth.” “Well, things are looking up,” Cracken smiled as he pushed himself out of his chair, “It sounds like you might have your final assignment, Winter. Since you seem to have a history with Nat'l, go to Hoth and have a chat. Find out anything you can about Ex. Maybe she will know what he has been up to.” “What are you willing to offer her?” Winter asked. “Everything! I'm not about to underestimate this nameless person,” Cracken responded without hesitation, “I wouldn't appreciate black market cloning cylinders floating about the 'verse. Clones are probably the most bothersome things in the galaxy.” “Yes, sir,” Winter rose to her feet in one fluid motion. “Maybe, we’ll throw you a party or something when you get back,” Cracken gave Winter a facetious smile, “but don’t get your hopes up... May the Force be with you.” - - - -----signature----- Get with the OC Revolution, Holmes! Don't check the Profile... my fics couldn't possibly be there... Negachlorian - http://boards.theforce.net/beyond_the_saga/b10477/30251128/p1/?0
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Sara_Kenobi Registered: Sep '00	Date Posted: 7/12 7:42am Subject: Negachlorian (8 ABY; Winter, Luke, Cracken, OCs)
	There looks to be a very interesting adventure ahead. Fantastic start! -----signature----- Legacy: http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/30582247/p1/?0
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Rau_Fang Registered: Mar '05	Date Posted: 7/19 7:20pm Subject: Negachlorian (8 ABY; Winter, Luke, Cracken, OCs) - Date Edited: 7/20 9:13pm (3 edits total) Edited By: Rau_Fang
	Thanks Sara_Kenobi! Interesting is fun! - - - “Varri Nat’l?” The portly guard named Schultz stood at a detention cell door with his beady eyes glaring through its rectangular hole. There was mute stirring from the solitary bunk, but no response returned from the shadowy prison box. Schultz began again in a sing-song voice, “Nat’l-l.” “What Schultz? I was rather enjoying that cat nap.” Nat’l snapped as she rose from the stiff bed, putting her furry feet to the floor. She ran a few clawed fingers through her tangled hair and scratched the fur on her cheeks. Prison life had not done well to her once luscious red coat. “Sorry,” Schultz apologized as he began to punch in a keycode that opened the door, “but you have a visitor and you have plenty of time to sleep later.” “As if there is never enough time to sleep around here,” Nat’l bitterly mocked. “Don’t be snarky,” Schultz locked a blaster on the Bothan, “Let’s go.” Nat’l continued as Schultz lead her down a labyrinth lined with detention cells, “Is that a new uniform, Schultz? It’s very slimming.” “Why thank you!” he beamed. “Has Warden Klink told you ‘you're pretty’ yet?” Nat’l prodded. “No,” he disappointedly answered and then stuttered to correct himself, “I mean, No!” “Aww,” Nat’l let a smile spread across her pyramid lips, “Sorry, Schultz. He’ll notice you someday. So who’s the esteemed guest?” “A very icy lady,” Schultz shivered, “I know nothing.” “Hmm,” Nat’l thoughtfully purred. They entered the interrogation room, where Schultz instructed the prisoner to sit in the far corner. In the bare cold room there was a table that separated two chairs. It was not as isolating as a prison cell, but intimidating all the same. Schultz left her in the room and locked the door behind him. She could only hope that whatever interrogation she was about to endure would be brief. She yawned as she was still feeling very sleepy. When the door finally slid open with a static hiss, a stoic woman with blond hair stood quietly in the open doorway. “You,” Nat’l growled as she pounded the table, bearing her sharp canines. Her hair bristled as she jumped to her feet. She was ready to pounce, but realized Winter would have the upper hand if Nat’l acted up. So she composed herself and sat down as Winter glided across the floor and sat opposite to her. “You…” Nat’l took in a deep breath, “You almost look happy to see me, or disappointed, maybe? I can't really read you anymore, Winter. Its been so long.” “Nat’l,” Winter did not feel like exchanging banter, “I would like you to give me the names of all the members involved with the West District Coruscant bombing as well as their profiles.” “Sure, I’ll tell you,” Nat’l leaned over the table, her eyes narrowing into threatening slits, “But first let's talk 'you.' How is that girlfriend of yours? Tycho? You know I was looking forward to having a cell right next to his. Too bad that fell through. You don't go to jail if you're human. You know, Justice!” Winter was not exasperated, “Nat’l this could be a matter of your freedom.” “Finally! You're playing along,” Nat’l's mischievous grin bared glistening white incisors. “I am serious,” Winter did not budge on her resolve. “Oh Winter,” Nat’l sighed, “My wit is wasted on you.” “Of course, you do not believe me,” Winter explained as she laid a small datapad on the table. Nat’l looked from Winter to the pad, then back to Winter as she cautiously reached for small device. Her eyes widened as she read over the contents displayed in blue. She looked up to Winter with her mouth agape. Then, she remembered who she was dealing with: Alliance Intelligence. Liars. “I do not believe you,” Nat’l repeated. “What do you have to lose?” “My pride,” Nat’l hissed, “I sold you underground information and was rewarded with a vacation on the most force forsaken ice ball in the ‘verse.” “You bombed Coruscant,” Winter insisted, “Besides, could your pride be worth your freedom?” “Hello!” Nat’l exclaimed as she rolled her eyes and pointed to herself with a curved claw, “Bothan.” Swiftly snatching the pad from the table, Winter maintained composure, “I guess we have no more to discuss here then.” “Wait,” Nat’l was not ready to let the offer die, “On Bothawui we used to say, information that is not shared is hardly information at all...' Winter raised an eyebrow at the poor attempt at a turn of phrase. "That's a rough translation! Anyway, I’d rather not let this be a one sided conversation. Why, after two years, do you suddenly need what I know? Are there ghosts haunting the New Republic?” Winter nodded and reluctantly whispered, “Ex.” - - - Six years ago on Coruscant... They squared off in the dirty and dank durasteel jungle deep in the underbelly of Coruscant. Ex defended a cache of explosives, the trigger, while Tesch’lo, a slim Devaronian with white fur and a red-skinned face beautiful even by human standards, was determined to stop him from completing the detonation sequence. Although it was day, little light filtered down from the skyscrapers looming above. The grimy thick air smelled of rot and deterioration. “Sorry Ex, but we are not going to allow you to follow through with this.” “Had a change of heart did you, Tesch’lo?” “The sacrifice you have asked of the people of Coruscant is too much. You are not going to complete the detonation sequence,” Tesch’lo challenged. “And what of Masque?” Ex asked calmly, “Did you kill her?” “Yes,” Tesch’lo lied without flinching. They stared each other down, neither willing to make the first move. Tesch’lo had to muster all of her courage to keep locked with his piercing blue eyes. Tesch’lo begged for Ex to say something, anything. Instead, he glared as if the very pupils of his eyes were blasters. Ex drew the blaster at his hip. Tesch’lo dove for cover. Yellow lasers blasted against the side of the metal beam protecting Tesch’lo. The stench of burning mold filled her nostrils. As Ex continued to fire on her position, he began to rework the sequence codes. It was impossible for her to peek out and take a shot at him, lest she get a mouth full of searing pain. She pulled out a commlink and began to shout over the screams of Ex’s blaster, “Nat’l! Ex has me pinned down. Is there anything you can do to shut down the detonator from there?” A crackling voice returned over the comm, “I am trying! But not only is he routing the code away from my console, he is blocking any avenue I have to splice into the device. You are going to have to deactivate it from the main console if it starts counting down.” “I thought you were supposed to be the splicer-savant!” “Maybe I taught him everything I know.” “Tell me again,” Ex yelled as his spare hand danced over the device, “Why have you changed your mind?” “Too many innocent people,” Tesch’lo returned. She started to peek around the corner, but a warning volley that blackened the grimy durasteel at her back convinced her to keep still instead. “No one is innocent in this mess,” Ex gave a wicked smile, “No one was innocent on Devaron, either. They all died for a Rebellion that will inevitably fail.” Ex let the last of those words balance on his tongue as if they were a ration bar before he let them bounce from his lips. Tesch’lo squinted off the tears in her eyes. This was not the time to mourn the massacre. She looked for anyway to flank him, but there was only one way onto the rusted platform. “You’re too late!” Ex shouted out victoriously. The device clicked and whirred announcing in a gruff electronic voice, “Three minutes to detonation.” As Ex celebrated, Tesch’lo saw her opportunity to strike. She rounded the corner and aimed her blaster. Ex was there, waiting for her. He struck her in the throat with an open palm. She gurgled and stumbled to the ground, as her blaster was flung harmlessly off of the platform and into the abyss. When she was laying flat on her back, Ex towered over her with a blaster trained on her forehead. Tesch’lo recovered, clipping his legs and sending him sprawling to the ground. The flash of yellow narrowly skimmed her cheek, burning white hair completely away to expose burnt red skin. As he fell to the ground, the blaster skidded to the edge of the platform. They both recovered and clamored to their feet. Tesch'lo carefully caressed the raw skin on the side of her face before before she readied her stance. As they faced off, he slowly drew a vibroknife from a sheath wrapped around his leg. He held it in a reverse grip style, holding the dull end of the blade along his forearm. His knuckles tightened around the grip and relaxed before he readied the weapon a few inches away from his chest. He raised his other arm with an open palm and bent his knees slightly. He was poised for a swift strike like a spined viper. Tesch'lo gave a wicked smile and sneered, “Masque used a vibroknife, too. You two have the same stance and everything. You taught her all of that right?” Ex growled as he sprung forward. When he threw his arm forward and extended the knife, Tesch'lo dodged, twisting her torso to the right. The faintly humming blade whisked over her cheek, cutting a few hairs off. She retaliated by pushing the blade up and away as her feet followed the sweeping motion of her body. Poised at Ex's side, she wrapped up his knife arm so that she could get leverage to disarm him with a blow from her elbow. When she brought her elbow down, the blow reverberated down his arm and his hand expelled the knife. She kicked it off the platform when Ex leveled a solid kick at her chest, sending her sprawling to the ground. He stood there as she arched her back and flipped to her feet. Once again they stood facing each other. The timer read two minutes. “Hand-to-hand,” Ex eyes narrowed, “Quaint.” He threw a fist at her face. She ducked and aimed a fist at his gut. It landed with a thud, but made little impression. He recovered and brought a knee up to her stomach. She coughed and sputtered as she was punted into the air. She stumbled backwards, narrowly missing a roundhouse kick to her face. When he moved in, Tesch’lo aimed a punch towards his nose. His reflexes were phenomenal. He grabbed her arm and used it as leverage to spin his body and send his elbow into her stomach and face. He let go and she fell backwards, to the edge of the abyss. She looked down into that darkness that breathed in light and digested it. She did not want to be consumed. She pushed herself over. Ex was standing over her. Never before had she seen his blue eyes so murderous. She scrambled to find her balance, to do something before Ex put a knee to her chest and break her neck. She was lucky that Ex’s blaster was placed an arm’s length from her. She grabbed the blaster and aimed it up at Ex. Ex kicked the blaster out of her hand and over the edge. Tesch’lo had her head on straight. She kicked his leg. He lost his balance and fell forward onto her. As he fell forward, she placed a leg onto his chest and kicked with all of her strength. She screamed in a violent rage as she pushed his body up and over. Everything slowed down as Ex was catapulted away. She caught a glimpse of his blue eyes as he cascaded over her head and into the abyss. They were not scared nor desperate as the eyes of most people who fall to their death. They were satisfied. She wrestled her tired body over so that her two yellow eyes peered over the edge. Silently she watched him disappear. “Nat’l, Ex is dead,” Tesch’lo grunted into the commlink as she pushed herself to aching feet, “Tell me what I need to do to stop this thing.” Tesch’lo limped over to the device, that whirred with red numbers. She had only fourty-five seconds left. “Nat’l!” Tesch’lo’s heart was screaming and pounding. “Tesch’lo!” Nat’l’s crackling voice sounded over the comm, “You have to by-pass whatever lockdown he has. I’ll see what I can do from here… Alpha-twenty! That’s it. You got it? Ok. Now you’ll have to reset the time sig! Is it bugged?” “I never had any disposal training in Intel! Can’t I just clip a wire or something?! That's how they always do it in the holodramas,” Tesch’lo screamed as she followed Nat’l’s commands and frantically hit the keys. “Only if you want to blow up! Hurry, do you have the time sig reconfigured now?” Nat’l was becoming frenzied. “No! It’s locked downed, I need some kind of sequence to overwrite the lockdown.” “Password oriented?” “No programming, I think?” the Devorian felt like a gundark performing neurosurgery. “That's my handy-work all right...” “Nat'l,” Tesch'lo whispered with cautious longing, “I don't...” She was consumed in a fiery blaze. Even where Nat’l was sitting several miles away from the blast zone she could feel the residual effects and earthquakes. The lights dimmed and shuttered and the windows rocked back and forth before the eastern half of Coruscant went dark. - - - -----signature----- Get with the OC Revolution, Holmes! Don't check the Profile... my fics couldn't possibly be there... Negachlorian - http://boards.theforce.net/beyond_the_saga/b10477/30251128/p1/?0
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JediLuminaraUnduli Registered: Jul '08	Date Posted: 8/24 12:00am Subject: Negachlorian (8 ABY; Winter, Luke, Cracken, OCs) updated 07/19
	Oh! This is very, very interesting. Intriguing indeed. How exactly did Ex escape his apparent death? What information does Winter( ) wish to gain from Nat'l? What's up with the cloning? And a random thought.. where is Tycho? Hope you update soon If you have a PM list, I'd like to be added to it. Great job here! -M -----signature----- "But now we must eat. Come, good food, come..." "That sounds like a toast for all our families. Here's to crazy women, and the pilots who pursue them." - Winter Celchu
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Rau_Fang Registered: Mar '05	Date Posted: 10/4 2:36pm Subject: Negachlorian (8 ABY; Winter, Luke, Cracken, OCs) updated 07/19
	Hey guys, Its been a long while, right? Before I go any further into the story I have to figure out a few things. Thats why I haven't posted in the last couple of months. Sorry for the delay. -----signature----- Get with the OC Revolution, Holmes! Don't check the Profile... my fics couldn't possibly be there... Negachlorian - http://boards.theforce.net/beyond_the_saga/b10477/30251128/p1/?0
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