Forum:Non-Canon Davy

Name: Davy Jones

Age: 21

Description: http://i162.photobucket.com/albums/t256/Silicon21/Sephiroth_Dark_Winged_Angel.jpg

Blood Type: ???

Gender: Male

Equipment: Vibroblade custom Portable Shield

How he got wings: He traveled space and went through some radiation with a bird. While in a ship and it caused him to sprout wings 3 weeks later.

"And so I cross into another world shyly and in homage linger for an invitation from this unknown that I would trespass on.

I am very glad, and all alone in the world, all alone, and very glad, in a new world where I am disembarked at last.

I could cry with joy, because I am in the new world, just ventured in.

I could cry with joy, and quite freely, there is nobody to know.

And whosoever the unknown people of this unknown world may be they will never understand my weeping for joy to be adventuring among them because it will still be a gesture of the old world I am making..."

The shield flickered to life and its buzzing hum returned, mingling with the sound of the surf. With the faintest of smiles touching his lips, Davy rose and stretched, rolling his neck and shoulders to release the tension. Those cursed cannocks had ripped open the generator housing and chewed apart the circuit boards for the third time in as many weeks. They were a blessing in disguise, he supposed; without the constant havoc they wreaked, he might not have a job.

Looking out across the glittering sea toward Telos' setting sun, he could not help but feel at home, though not in the same way Iridonia was and always would be home, of course. Salt spray from waves that beat endlessly upon the buff-colored shore carried on the ever-present breeze.

He stooped, gathering tools and spare parts into a pair of grey, non-descript bags, careful to shake the sand from the work mats as they were folded and neatly placed inside. As he stood, he slung the bags over his left shoulder. Though nearly dusk, the day was still quite hot as he made his way down the beach, swiping a drop of sweat from his temple with his forearm. This planet was the closest thing he had to a real home in more than twelve years, since his life ended and he signed his hollow shell of a body over to the Republic.

As he climbed the rocky track that led toward the settlement, the sound of the ocean faded away, replaced by the chorus of insects that heralded the coming of night. Grass grew here, first in tufts, then more and more dense as coast faded into prairie. Davy could still feel the ocean breeze, but the air was cooler and felt refreshing where it tickled his damp, bare skin.

The Ithorians and a pocketful of others had toiled tirelessly in the past four years, revitalizing so much of Telos' obliterated surface. These tranquil plains stood in testament to their meticulous work, flourishing, living and breathing once again. Burnished rays of golden sunlight kissed the fields, seemingly wiping away the last traces of the Jedi Civil War, as though Revan's and Malak's betrayal had never happened.

The settlement came into view as he mounted the next rise; the streets were mercifully empty. This small village was barely more than a market square and a few dozen houses, both a blessing and a curse. The community was close-knit, which helped immensely in creating the atmosphere of home, but it made maintaining anonymity that much more difficult. He scuffed through the dusty square and down the alley to the boarding house where he stayed. The accommodations were far from luxurious, but the sheets were always clean and the water usually ran hot.

The Ithorian proprietor, Ildar and his wife Lulo had come to the planet with the rest of their herd and worked for some time directly on the restoration. As the effort grew, the need for quarters for offworlders became apparent and the pair now rented rooms to the shield technicians and others who came to help heal Telos.

Davy caught the scent of dinner cooking as he entered the common room and his stomach growled. He realized he had not eaten since early that morning, before he left for work. It was becoming a habit, working from dawn to dusk without stopping, then spending half the night designing shields, wiring diagrams, droid upgrades - anything to keep his mind busy and occupied, anything to keep from thinking.

There was only one inhabitant in the common room, a Duros tech named Kolna Das who seemed to be focused very intently on a datapad. Pausing for a moment at the sound of the door opening and closing, Kolna looked up at Davy, nodded in greeting and returned to his reading.

The morning and evening meals were included in the cost of the rooms, prepared by the proprietress herself and served family-style in the large kitchen on the ground floor. Lulo was laying place settings out on the long table as Davy passed by, heading for the stairs to the second floor where his rooms were.

"Dinner will be ready soon," she called to Davy as she spied him through the doorway. "Will you be joining us?"

"Yes, thank you," he replied while ascending the staircase, turning and flashing a slight, polite smile.

Davy wearily shrugged off the bags as he entered his room and stowed them in the well-used trunk standing sentry at the foot of the recently-made bed. He dropped into the nearby desk chair and pulled off his boots, noting the new message indicator flashing on the desktop terminal. Finding only a short message that his special order had arrived on Citadel Station, he stood the boots neatly between the footlocker and the wall.

From the drawers beneath the austere bed came a fresh set of clothing. He laid them out on the coverlet and padded barefoot across the cool grey tile to the refresher, stripping as he went. The routine itself was simple, but the familiarity and normalcy of these actions gave a small measure of comfort to the battered engineer. The only variation in the procedure was his internal monologue that pushed horrific memories back into his nightmares and away from waking consciousness.

The water did indeed run hot from the tap. He set the temperature as hot as possible, a few scant degrees from scalding. Stepping in, he stood under the spray, letting the water's warm fingers knead the lingering tension from his neck, shoulders and back. Though a sonic shower was faster and more efficient, it could not compare to the soothing qualities of hot water. The beating rhythm of water lulled too much and for a few moments he let his concentration slip.

The explosion, the deafening screams and seeing her fall. She was gone; he couldn't feel her anymore.

"You killed her..." the small, cruel voice mocked. "You killed her..."

The smell, the horrible, acrid smell of burning wires and...flesh? Fire alarms shrieked overhead as thick, black smoke flooded the bridge. A sharp sound rang out, cracking like lake ice in the spring, as the port-side bulkhead collapsed.

He jolted back to reality with a strangled cry. Blinking furiously, he fought to clear the vision from his mind's eye. Leaning against the wall, he fought for control as his chest heaved, heart pounding in his ears. The broken man rattled off a to-do list, the sound all but lost to the gurgling of the drain. Time drifted, the water slowly turned cold and, eventually, composure settled in. Pulling away from the wall, he found he had scrubbed his skin raw, as if trying to wash away that hellish scene. Grabbing a towel, he shut the water off and left the refresher.

The soft evening breeze meandered through the open bedroom window, clattering a slatted blind against the permaplex. The chrono had marked nearly two hours since he last checked. Cursing inwardly, Davy dressed quickly and headed back down to the kitchen.

Ildar and Lulo were sitting at the kitchen table, talking softly and sipping on steaming mugs of tea. There was no sign of the other boarders or of the evening meal.

"We missed you at dinner," Lulo said, a questioning look in her eyes.

"I...lost track of time," he replied, trying to avoid eye contact without arousing concern.

Long seconds passed before the Ithorian nodded slowly. "I understand. I kept a plate warm for you," she said, motioning towards a warming drawer behind her. "Please, sit, and I'll serve you."

Ildar said nothing, but watched the taciturn Zabrak thoughtfully as he slid into a chair opposite his own. How could someone so relatively young be so shattered, so empty? Sure, he was a veteran, but this was much more serious than just war weariness. It was as if all the life had been drained from him, till he was no more capable of emotion than the droids whose company he seemed to prefer. Hopefully, he'd accept their proposition.

Ildar waited until Lulo finished serving Davy and had returned to her seat before speaking. "I take it you've heard of the trouble the Czerka Corporation is making." Catching Davy's nod, he went on. "Their empty promises and brutish tactics have paid off; already our herd-mates are being ordered out of the restoration zones. We have received word that many of these zones are already deteriorating, the hard work put into them coming undone."

Ildar took a sip of tea. "This project cannot fail. If the Republic sees Telos as a success, it will grant credits to heal other worlds. If Telos fails, they will not 'waste' their resources on other planets." He paused, assessing the engineer, who listened intently.

A hard, merciless look tinged Lulo's usually placid face, her eyes welling with angry tears as she joined in. "They seek to take over the entire Restoration and will stop at nothing, even going so far as to murder our herd-mates."

Several weeks before, there had been an explosion at an equipment recharging facility in a neighboring zone, killing a number of Ithorians. "The incident was most definitely a deliberately perpetrated act, no matter what the Telosian authorities ruled. It was no accident; Czerka killed members of our family."

Lulo's moving speech touched some tiny ember of life left in Davy's heart. Old memories swirled around it, breathed on it - bitter memories of others who cut down those standing in the way of their goals. The ember sputtered, caught and finally flickered into flames. They shimmered in his eyes, as he listened intently.

Ildar leaned closer, almost conspiratorially. "Telos cannot and will not fall again, which it undoubtedly will with Czerka in control. To that end, we are planning a series of...hindrances...that will most certainly slow, if not terminate, their progress. The proposition I have for you is simple - our group needs someone as technologically skilled as you to execute these tasks."

It was strange to hear these normally peaceful Ithorians talk of such things as revenge and sabotage, but Davy understood their motivation all too well. He'd felt the same need before - to protect the living, to avenge the dead.

Ildar went on. "These activities are, of course, completely un-sanctioned by Chodo Habat, his administration and the rest of our herd. It goes without saying that, should we be caught, the consequences would be dire." Ildar began to rise from the table. "If you need time to consider this offer, I can certainly understand."

"No," Davy replied, his mouth set in a grim line. "Czerka must be stopped."

---Chapter 2 of bio---

They plotted late into the night, working on the finer points of the plan. Ildar had commed his accomplices once Davy agreed to join their efforts. They sat together then, gathered around the dining table like some strange, disjointed family. They were quite a diverse bunch: a handful of Ithorians, the Duros, the Zabrak and a pair of human females. Despite their innumerable differences, they were united by their common goal - excising the cancer that was Czerka Corp.

As the session wore on, Davy was surprised at just how well thought out this strategy was. Simple, yet theoretically very effective; this series of cleverly-timed incidents designed to shake Czerka's control was only the under-the-scanners portion. Apparently, a simultaneous effort had been launched by Chodo Habat and his administrative team to ruin Czerka's public image. While distracted by their own attempts, the well-timed surgical strikes would largely go unnoticed by the powers-that-be. It truly was a brilliant plan.

Lulo, meanwhile, had composed herself and slid comfortably into her role as hostess, keeping the tea mugs full and serving up homemade pastries.

"Another slice of air cake?" she questioned Davy, gesturing with the server.

"No, two pieces were enough," he replied, his voice as rich as the dessert itself, yet lightened by the suggestion of a grin.

Stamina flagging, the group finally parted company in the wee hours of the morning to rest up for the mission ahead. As Davy trudged up to his room, one of the humans, Melina, called out to him.

"I went up to Citadel Station earlier and Dendis Dobo asked me to give you this," she said, passing the engineer a package. "He said it was the parts you ordered."

"Oh. Thank you," Davy replied, nodding. He started up the stairs, only to be stopped again by the woman's gritty voice.

"Is everything all right, boss?"

The Iridonian paused and looked back over his shoulder, his chocolate eyes surveying Melina.

"Yeah," he answered. His half smile was a valiant, if unsuccessful, attempt to convince not only his colleague, but himself as well.

"Right," Melina replied, her bronze face returning the expression. Her superior wasn't exactly known for his conversational skills and certainly not for talking about himself. Still, that hadn't discouraged her from trying before, but something was different today. She jerked her attention down, as though suddenly fascinated by her boot laces. Though he looked as stoic as ever, something was definitely different about him. Whatever it was, it gave Melina the same feeling as hearing the growls of approaching krak'jya back on Bothawui.

An uncomfortable silence settled over the room like thick, suffocating fog. "Well, I'm off," she said finally and scuttled out.

He nodded, but didn't reply. Casually, he shifted the box, tucked it under his arm and ascended.

The cool night air and the scent of distant rain greeted Davy as he entered his room. Shutting the window and it's blind, he settled into the desk chair and considered the task in front of him.

His attention focused on his long-time companion laying in pieces. He'd been attempting to install some upgrades at 3:30 the previous morning, but his bleary eyes just refused to focus any longer. Cracking his knuckles, he picked up the soldering torch and set to the delicate task at hand.

Before long, a soft whirring sound and a series of appreciative beeps filled the air.

"Anytime," the technician replied, a satisfied look on his face.

The little droid continued the conversation, asking how long it had been offline.

"Twenty four hours and thirty...six minutes."

The remote issued an irritated statement, underscored by what sounded vaguely like a raspberry.

Davy smiled. "Hey, some of us are only part machine; even I need to shut down once in a while."

The orb booped and seemed to sigh, then cruised around the room testing out its new equipment. Davy spun in his chair to watch, amused. As many trials and tribulations as they'd been through together in the past twenty nine years, it was nothing short of a miracle that they were both in such relatively good shape.

"I could use your help," he called out, then turned back to the desk. He carefully opened the package Melina delivered and removed the tiny crystals and platinum conductors. He inspected the precious items, even using a magnifying lens to check for damage. A wave of relief washed over him as he finished: they were flawless.

In a move practiced hundreds of times, the ex-lieutenant placed his left hand in his lap and felt it deaden as he powered down the cybernetic appendage. Without the scarlet beam that linked it to his partly generator-encased upper arm, the hand piece lay still and lifeless. He set it gently on the desk, where it dejectedly lay like nothing more sophisticated than a gauntlet whose partner had gone missing.

He lifted his arm parallel with the floor and rotated it laterally. Holding it steady in this position was the second-hardest part of the operation. Cautiously, he opened the generator's access panel, exposing its inner workings. His droid floated over, settling into a spot to the left of and slightly above its target. It inquired as to what power level its cutting laser should be dropped to.

"Five percent." Davy replied, retrieving a multitool from his pocket. "Ready?"

The remote beeped in the affirmative.

"Let's go."

They worked in relative silence, listening to the music of their labor: the sizzle of the cutting laser, the tinkle of discarded parts dancing across the desk, the tick of new conductors fitting into place.

Using a pair of forceps, Davy picked up one of the crystals and focused on the most difficult part of the procedure. Installing the chips required extreme precision; improperly installed, the best-case scenario was that the generator would simply not work. He felt the crystal slip into place and let out the breath he held. "One, down, two to go."

As the last crystal slid into place, Davy sighed and let the forceps drop to the desk with a clatter. He rolled his wrist, stretching and flexing his fingers, tense from both the task and the odd angle needed to perform it. Anxious to finish, he wasted no further time popping the access panel cover into place.

Straightening the hand piece on the work station, he aligned his upper arm with it and held his breath. He closed his eyes and powered up the limb, willing his alignments to be correct.

His hand tingled as sensation returned, bringing forth a genuine smile as he opened his eyes. The brilliant ultramarine glow illuminated his face, the marks of Selenoren contrasting sharply with his pale skin.

He clenched his fingers experimentally, flexing his wrist back and forth and bending his elbow. Noting the increased flexibility of the joints, he decided this alone made the six month wait worth it. Checking the chrono, he decided it was entirely too late to test the strength of the prosthesis and settled for waiting till morning.

A few more hours won't hurt, he thought.

A nagging voice at the back of his mind warned that he would be wise to spend them in bed.

Turning over, the exhausted man plumped up the pillow for at least the hundredth time. He didn't usually have trouble sleeping, a side effect of working eighteen-hour days. Today, though, he just could not shut down. Staring at the ceiling, his mind wandered, far, far away, past the stars, across time.