Revan\'s Quest For Pants

No smut or anything in this one, is just the lead up to it. Not much to miss, so feel free to skip it.


Also, as you may notice, I'm changing quite a few things in the story so it's less game-y and more... yannoe. The Cantina is much larger, for example, with hundreds of people in it - not just the two dozen that were in game. etc, etc.




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''Mmnngh... ow.'' Jane's first thought as she returned back to the land of living was a short one. Any further attempts at coherent thought were disrupted as pain in her temple shot up. That would've been unpleasant enough by itself, but as it ever so slowly subsided it was replaced by a piecemeal mess of memories. She was... ''Ow''... She was taken almost right as she stepped out of the pants-less Emporium, dragged over into a secluded corner of the Upper City, and quite literally pumped full of baby-batter from the front and back. Gingerly, the abused woman reached back with one hand, resting it on the -still- stinging left cheek of her rump before moving it further below, between her legs.



 ''Bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeh.'' A disgusted groan was all she could muster as one finger ran alongside her skin until it met the partially dried-over trickle of cum. She was freshly raped - and it was no dream, and that was bad enough. Worse than that, however, was the burning sense of humiliation that caused her fists to clench up into angry fists, her features contorting into an angry grimace. Bringing a hand down against the matted floor of the alleyway in a pointless - yet satisfying - punch, she twisted and moved until she was sat on her knees. What now, what now... further examination revealed no further damage - aside from the few loads that churned around in the pit of her stomach and the -still- leaking cum between her ebony thighs, the thugs were content with teaching her a cock-assisted lesson. Bloody brat who hired them didn't have the guts for anything permanent, most likely. She stifled her instinct to let loose an onslaught of target-less insults. Growing up a Coruscant rat taught her that rage was only useful if tempered and re-forged from blind whiteness into something more precise - vengeance.


First things first, though. Get tidied up enough that no patrol would stop her. She found herself turning a light shade of pink that was laid barely visible on her cheeks as she stood up and hooked a finger through the straps of her pants. With a nervous bite, her teeth sank down into her full lower lip, almost munching on it in a nervous tick as she edged the strained clothing up her luscious thighs, patiently forcing the leathery fabric to climb its way up her expansive rear. Inch by inch, the plump, round cheeks were squeezed down on, doing more than their share at filling out the tattered pants. At last, with a hop that both finished the job and signified her own small, personal victory, Jane's ass disappeared behind its prison. 



A few minutes later she emerged out into the street, as cheery as ever (read; not at all) and inconspicuous. Aside from the dried smudges of saliva and tears that were only partially wiped off her cheeks, no sign remained of the brutal pounding that she received half an hour... or two hours? time's a difficult concept when passed out... ago. She never truly left behind her 'old' self, the ways and philosophies - if you could even call them that - of a street rat still the domineering influence over the soldier. Traumatized she was not - at most, slightly shaken (and not stirred). Anger was more her line of work. Cowardice was the other shoulder's angel, however... as she walked (or rather waddled, for the crowd was as thick as... you know what), she had time to go over the day's events. Thugs, check. Blasters belonging to thugs, check. Jane, check. Blaster(s) belonging to Jane... no check. Not only that, but they stole the short blade she purchased prior to the spit-roasting. 

''Fuck!'' Panic pricked her mind as she patted around, subsiding as quickly as it came when the reassuringly solid shapes of the food packets met her hand. ''At least they didn't take those... cowardly douchecanoes.'' She mused over their inability to find them before dismissing it quickly enough - she doubted a (space-)doctorate is needed to get into the prestigious position of 'Street Thug & Rapist Extraordinaire'. 

At long last, she arrived back at the doors to the apartment complex she used as a temporary refuge. Check that. Not just herself, but Onasi too. As little fondness as she had for him, she hoped he at least had a more productive day. With the soft hiss of metal, the double-doors opened, revealing the apartment itself - and Carth, who returned before her.

''Son of a...'' She whispered in disbelief under her nose as she looked around the place. It was like arriving at the (space-)Mecca. Two blasters,  half a dozen concussive grenades, even a shield or two, and - most importantly - enough stimpacks and adrenaline shots to raise a dead Rancor... and then make it do the tango. ''Jane! Good to see you back. I got us some supplies,'' He nodded at them as if she wasn't already staring intently.

''Where in hell did you get all this, Onasi? How'd you even AFFORD it?'' She spoke in continuous disbelief - well justified, she thought. An explanation was needed, and it was given immediately. ''I didn't buy it, if that's what you mean. I ac-'' She interrupted him with a raised hand which was met with a shocked head shake. ''I didn't steal it, woman! It's... a long story. Suffice to say, a nearby doctor was harboring some of the other Republic soldiers which escaped in pods, just like us. Seeing as how half of them are comatose and the other half are months away from consciousness, we mutually agreed that their supplies will be better spent by me. And, well, you.'' 

''Huh.'' 

''What?''

''Nothing, nothing.'' She waved it off dismissively. ''Hey, hey! Don't you get that tone with me, I worked my ass off helping the doc to convince him I wasn't a Sith double!'' His tone of voice was edging its way towards being raised, enough for her left eyebrow to do just that. Carth Onasi, hero of the Republic, flustered? How odd. Amusing, too - and a dose of humour was almost as good as a strong drink at distracting her from remembering the humiliating encounter. She didn't want to hurt his pride, though. At least, not for this. She could see a job done well, and that broke down enough of her dismissive hostility for her hands to go up in a pacifying gesture. ''Look... Carth. I was just a bit startled by all this stuff,  'kay? I've had a helluva day, so I reacted a tad badly. How about this - given your success so far, I'll follow along with your plan... because we both know you not only have a plan, but also a backup plan... for a few days. See where that leads us.'' She forced her lips to curl upwards in a smile which hopefully looked less forced and murder-y than it felt, meeting his eyes with her own hazelnut ones. A gruff, still slightly hurt nod from Carth - heavens, he was almost pouting - enabled her to go on. ''So. What's the next step?''

''Glad you asked - the lead is a man named Jergan. Tends to loiter around in the cantina nearby... apparently has information about the escape pods which crashed in the Lower City. Bastila must have been in one of those - the doc didn't see any female bodies at the crash area.'' With the snap of a finger, Carth rose up from his seat on the work bench and picked up one of the blasters, handing it to Jane. ''You will try to weasel the info out of him - blaster is for security only, understood? Peaceful resolution preferred... that sorta place won't tolerate violence, especially from off-worlders. Myself, I'll be trying to learn how to go to the Lower City without signing up as a Sith.'' With that, he was finished, already heading towards the door before being stopped by the sound of Jane's throat clearing. ''I'll take a few minutes to clean up... you go on ahead without me. We'll meet up there - I've been in the Cantina already and the place is big.'' 

''Fair enough.'' With a thumbs up to seal the deal, he walked off, the automatic double-doors closing behind him.