Unfortunate Circumstances

[Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice*]

Graffion had been vaguely aware of the commotion on the streets. Some angry shouts making their way up and down the Prazhi streets. He wasn't too concerned about it. They were cries of indignation. A cursory glance showed that someone had been pushing and handling their way through the crowds, running from something. running. He thought to himself comfortably, not chasing. Which means I don't have to care. It wasn't someone coming after him. That's all he needed to know; it was all he really cared about at the moment.

Many people in the crowd slowed down to look at all of the commotion. Graffion, with a frustrated sigh, slowed his own pace a s well. He turned over to see the situation as a whole. Now he could see the pursuers as well. 1. 2. 2 pursuers. No, three. He could see a third one moving quickly in the back-ground, attempting to cut off alley-side exits. They were skilled pursuers. Their goal didn't seem to be to reach their prey so much as keep their eyes on it. An Amaran and a human pushed their way through the audience, more calm but no more gently. Graffion could instantly tell they were not just cops or thieves. Authority was their armor, and they used it like a shield to plow through the ranks of shocked and bewildered bystanders.

His attention was focused on the pursuers, not the pursuant. When she stumbled and cried out, "Help me, they're after me, they want to hurt me, help, help, help" came the pitiful pleas. Some of the audience started to look around, not knowing what to do. One brave soul even stepped in front of the Amaran's way, chivalry guiding his simple mind. The Amaran bowled him over with an ease that seemed unnatural for such a short man. After that, there was scarcely anybody that did more than yell at the pursuers.

Her little stunt had bought her a few seconds, it seemed. It's not like they hadn't known where she was was.

He could see the person now, coming towards him. He had not intention of helping. Perhaps he should seize the person and hand them over, ending the farce.

It was then that he noticed the face. Amber eyes, cool features and soft skin. She moved with a grace that did not belong to the commoner; the grace of honed skill and great practice. He knew her, and for a second, all his rage and frustration came upon him. Fire burned in his eye, and he had half a mind to cut her where she stood. He knew her, and he hated her. He hated her now more than he'd ever hated the idea of her, now that she was standing before him, coming toward him...

coming toward him very rapidly. For a second, he thought to step out of the way. Then he thought to defend himself. Then he thought to catch her. Why all these thoughts? A little part of him still wanted her dead. Another voice suddenly screamed, kill those wretched men!

And then she crashed into him. It was strange. A woman of grace and calculation just smashing into him like that. He'd seen her overturn him in a chair with such ease that she barely seemed to shift a finger before, and now she was light as a feather, bouncing off of him without making him so much as grunt.

She got up, anger clear on her face. "Get out of my..." She started, but stopped instantly as she recognized the face she was staring into. Perhaps she was shocked at seeing him. Perhaps she was scared. Afterall, she was just about to rudely tell him, Graffion Maruhuey, to get of her way, with the knowledge of who he was and the knowledge that he knew she knew. Not many survived that.

"way?" he finished for her.

She didn't seem to hear, didn't seem to care. She reached forward and touched him. Her touch was cool, a bit sweaty, but soft and lingering. And when she did, a part of him tingled with a warmth that he denied.

And then he felt the fear. It oozed into him, through him. He could feel it like a poignant perfume that stank the air all around him. She was afraid. She ought to be. She ought to fear his wrath, to beg for mercy. His indignation and hatred swelled for a second. Her fear was justified. He could feel his hands reaching forward, as though to clutch her shoulders in a vice grip. And then the fear took a new tone.

She wasn't afraid of him. Not in the least. Surprised, shocked, maybe a little nervous, but the fear wasn't directed at him, it was directed for him. His eyes looked up to the sources of her fear. Three pursuers expertly skirting the crowd towards her.

Instantly he knew what he wanted.

For a week he had not known what the hell his purpose was or what he wanted to do on this planet. Now it was clear. Now it was all so shockingly clear. For in that second that his eyes laid upon her enemies and he felt her fear, her need, he responded to it, chemically and physically. A scowl crossed his face, but it was no longer for her. It was a jowly look that was meant for her enemies.

He wanted to protect her.

She was moving now, passed him. She knew she'd transferred her message. Perhaps he was her last hope.

His mind started planning. He didn't know who they were, but if she was running from them, they were formidable. He couldn't run up to them and start shooting. Not only would that draw a lot of attention, and most likely result in one thing; his death. Graffion was not fond of the prospect of death, and he saw no warmth in its invitation. No. He had to help her the way a true assassin would. With cunning, trickery, and surprise. Right now, they would not be surprised.

The plans were rushing to his head, little ideas forming so rapidly that he wasn't sure how they would fit together. A location came to mind. An opportune battle-field. If he could get her there...perhaps they had a chance.

He turned and caught her before she had gotten more than ten feet from him, seizing her by the arm,

"Run past the clothing store with the yellow sign and take a left down the alley, all the way down. Long alley. Ends in a warehouse, go inside, open door on the left. Push me away as though I'm attempting to stop you. Push me HARD." He whispered, growling the last part, "Or I'll gut you like the wench you are!" before she could do anything though, he whispered, "And try to buy me some time."

In truth the door to the warehouse he wanted her to go into was locked. But she didn't need to know that. And besides, he had a key. He'd be there and have it open before she even knew. The warehouse was the drop-point where his employer planned to give him his pay.

And in that moment, he gambled. He really hoped that those men were planning to kill him. Because when the pursuers walked in after Tesa, they'd have to deal with thugs. And then, they'd deal with him.

[Kella]

It was not entirely accurate to say that Sellah had no skill at reading people. When it came to emotions -- to reading the tone of the woman, the subtle nonverbal shifts of the Jedi, sensing tension and intent -- well, she knew little more than the obvious. Perhaps even less. But when it came to the premonitions of combat, to the reading the tone of her movements, the subtle strategic shifts of the Jedi, sensing muscular tension and directional intent -- well, then she knew quite a great deal.

She heard, felt, sensed all at once the sudden movement of the bins, letting the Force and her instincts -- so often one and the same -- guide her in a leap between them, cold metal brushing the fur on her back as she soared through the air. Sellah had no time for frustration when she realized the diversion had been just enough to let the girl slip past, she had mind only for her goal.

Quick bounds, every muscle rippling, carried the Selonian towards the woman, until finally, Sellah pounced. Her claws snagged on the woman's hood, ripping through the fabric and the woman's hair, but when she landed again, her paws felt only the ground. The woman wobbled, but the leap had interrupted Sellah's own stride, and Bemek and the human passed Sellah, as their own momentum was intact.

Once again, there was no time for frustration. Sellah returned to the rooftops, while Bemek and the human returned to shoving through the crowds. But the pursuit had grown hot, and this time, Sellah could not spare a sigh. All the air was needed for her lungs, to fuel the muscle and mind. She pursued the woman with all the fervor of a guardian angel, at every moment just above and only barely behind. Her secrecy was compromised -- the woman had known of her presence as indicated by her move with the bins -- but 'out of sight, out of mind' was effective more often than one would guess.

The woman collided with a man, a misstep that surprised Sellah given her earlier evasion. Her keen hearing caught something more than the expected interchange, but only a sense that the collision had been significant, and no clue as to why. This information shifted only into a heightened sense of wariness, as the target was moving on.

It was also not entirely accurate to say that Sellah lived for times like this, but it was accurate to say that some had died for want of them. Here, Sellah had something that few others -- even Jedi -- possessed. A predatory instinct. The ability to meld thoughts and movements into one, to remove entirely the delay between action and reaction. The distance between her and the woman was born of Sellah's deliberate intention, as the Selonian was wary of repeating her earlier miscalculation.

Unfortunately, there were moments in which that distance allowed the woman to disappear momentarily around a corner. When Sellah rounded the final one, she was met with an empty alcove and a broad door. She listened intently, and though she could hear some sort of interchange from within, the details were once more unintelligible. She funneled herself into a deep sense of focus, searching within her innermost. Slowly, a few hazy points of light began to glow in her mind's eye, from within the building. A half-dozen, perhaps. But none had the brightness of one that used the Force -- none were the woman she was looking for. But her scent lingered, floated; she had touched nothing, but was very near. Through the door? Or some other way?

At that moment, Bemek and the human emerged from around a corner, still pounding in pursuit. Sellah raised a claw to her muzzle to hush them, and their footsteps quickly fell quiet as they approached.

"There's a group inside," she whispered, "The woman has gone somewhere further beyond. I'll distract these, you go after the woman." The other two nodded, and took a step to prepare. "Please," Sellah added, "Act like Shadows this time." The Amaran grimaced and the Human looked indignant, but they quickly faded to silence.

Sellah's posture was relaxed and confident as she punched the pad to open the door. Granted, the men might have been primed to shoot anything that moved, but Sellah was quick.

The heavy metal slid away to reveal a group of well-weaponed thugs loitering about, who tensed as soon as the door opened. Their expressions faded to confusion, however, when they saw with what they were met.

"Who are you?" one demanded, almost automatically, but was shushed by the knowing grin of another, who seemed to be the leader.

"Isn't it obvious?" he sighed. "Look at the lightsaber," he gestured with the barrel of his blaster, then pointed it at Sellah. "Graffion's sent a Dark Jedi assassin after us, the damn fool."

"I assure you," Sellah said placatingly, "I am not--"

"Kill her!" the leader bellowed, and Sellah immediately dove for the cover of a nearby crate. Blaster bolts formed a bright halo around the metal, and Sellah could feel their heat. She called upon the Force and heaved the crate, straight at the center of the group of thugs. In the moment of disorientation, she descended upon the nearest, twisting his blaster out of his hands and cracking it against his temple. The man fell motionless. She leveled the blaster at the men and fired off a wide spray of shots. Her aim was not to kill -- not like she could aim anyway -- but to force them to fan out and take cover. And that they did.

Sellah took cover as well, crouching against another crate, listening intently to the heavy breathing of the thug who was just on the other side. Enthused by his luck, he charged around the crate to execute the Jedi, but Sellah slipped between his legs and slammed her forearm into the back of his knees. The man crumpled, and like the first thug, was quickly incapacitated by a blow to the head.

Four men remained. They would be more difficult to deal with, as now they were wary and ready. However, those two things only went so far against a Selonian Jedi.

These thugs weren't idiots, though, she could give them that. They'd soon realized that she wasn't going to be breaking cover, and had instead begun to throw grenades. A spray of cryo serum splattered Sellah's fur, sending a shiver down her spine. That gave her an idea, though. She glanced over at the body of the second thug, and though there were no grenades, there was a flash-bang clipped to his belt, which was even better.

Sellah launched it at the other side of the crate, which all of the thugs would be intently watching, and in the same moment leapt to the top of a nearby stack of crates, and from there to the rafters that lined the ceiling. Only a few stray blaster bolts followed her, and she watched as the disoriented men first regained their senses, then realized that she wasn't there. The Jedi would waste no time letting them find out, however, and instead, she jumped. The Force was as good for redirecting energy as conjuring it, and when she landed, the force of her fall wasn't borne by her bones, but rather, exploded outward in a concussive wave. She'd landed right next to a thug, but didn't even turn to look at him; the force had thrown him against the metal crate which had protected him only a moment before. He did not move again.

That left three. Once more, Sellah proceeded to the closest. He had ended up behind a wooden crate, so instead of moving around it, Sellah tore her way through it. In a cracking and splintering of wood she tackled the man to the ground, snapping up his blaster as it clattered to the floor. Three shots to the gut, then she turned towards the final two, peering around the wooden crate for a better look. But in her focus, she only barely turned around in time to meet the threat from behind, a massive hand that crushed her throat back into the crate.

She could smell the burned flesh, and his breathing was desperate, but the third thug was not out of action yet. Damn it. Sellah liked it better when she didn't have to kill them.

The man's strength was enough to hold her to the crate even as she lifted her feet off the ground, lashing out at the man with her hind claws. He stumbled backwards as Sellah pushed off the crate, lunging for his throat. Her fangs closed around the flesh, crushing his trachea and loosing hot blood from the jugular.

There was no doubt that he was dead now.

Two left, then. Sellah edged from crate to crate, skillfully aimed blaster shots keeping her movements precise and cautious. Finally, she came into view of the second, ten feet away. He raised his blaster, but when he saw her -- saw her fangs and fur wet and red, saw the bloody footprints she left behind -- he froze. His eyes grew in terror.

But in Sellah's eyes there was only remorse. The man regained control, and Sellah tensed for a fight, but instead he sprinted away, wildly flinging himself towards the door. Suddenly, he fell, gunned down from behind, and as Sellah turned to the source, a bolt bit her shoulder. She hissed and bared her fangs in pain, and as an extension of her instinct her saber ignited before her, just in time to divert another bolt.

"Don't your kind usually prefer red sabers?" The leader crooned. He stood in the open, having emerged calmly from cover, with a confidence that told Sellah to be wary. She might have watched his face, but was more concerned with the blaster barrel down which she could peer.

"I am a Jedi and a licensed investigator," Sellah said, "You aren't the one I'm after, and if you stand down, I will do you no harm."

The man began to laugh. "You know, if you are telling the truth... That just makes me want to kill you more."

Sellah saw the muscles of his shoulder and core tense, steading him for a shot, and leapt upwards, bolt passing beneath her feet. This man was smart, smart enough to gauge where she'd land, so Sellah slung her saber at him. It spun in a blur, distracting him as she landed and leapt sharply off to the side, drawing the saber back to her. Just as his aim leveled, she caught the saber and launched herself back the other way, the movement pulling her into the movements of Ataru. With flips and spins and springs she avoided the marksman's bolts, until finally she stood directly in front of him, taunting with an easy shot.

The man was more greedy than he was smart, and he took it. But this time, Sellah did not dodge, she deflected, and the bolt raced straight back at the man. It struck his gut and he reeled, but the hit would serve only as a distraction.

Sellah leapt over the man, twisting around as she did to fall behind him, and in one graceful arc, her saber sliced the man from shoulder to hip.

The smell of scorched flesh filled Sellah's nostrils, and it's acrid bitterness bore strong similarity to the taste of killing. Only now did the verbal thoughts of the decision she had just made come to her mind. She had the clear shot to take only his arm, yes, but Sellah got the sense that this was the sort of man to hold grudges -- and that he'd still be capable of collecting, one arm or two. It was better, then, for him to be dead than spiteful.

Sellah scanned the warehouse with a sharp eye, absent-mindedly licking the blood from her fur. It was time to get back to business.

[Squee]

When the hand enclosed about her arm, she turned sharply, her hand slapping on top of his fingers. She knew who it was when he touched her, his presence all too familiar and fresh within her senses. What he might do, however, she didn’t know. In order to know, she would have to exert the effort to probe his mind, and Tesa simply could not spend that energy at this time. So she yanked first, wary of how he’d been when he’d departed from her and suspicious that he’d carry out his threat.

So much fear! She shouldn’t fear him, fear what he might do to her. The Force brimmed on her fingertips. He may have a physical prowess, but she was sufficiently equal with her strength in the Force. It was all a matter of summoning it, which she did rather well. Over a decade of practice backed with a knowledge of use from being taught and self taught. If need be, she could, and would, bed rid of Graffion if he was trying to either finish her himself or deliver her to the mercy of the Shadows.

Her nails were digging into his hand. Her stance was wide, braced. Brow furrowed and mouth set with the determination that glittered in her eye. Graffion’s face mirrored her feelings, and his grip had tightened since she had tried wrenching away. What determination, Maruhuey? What is your goal? If you hold me much longer, you don’t leave me much choice but to break you. I really don’t want to have to do that because then your lovely hair would wither.

As he began to give directions, speaking quickly, Tesa let loose a long breath in the middle of her shorter, more frequent takes for breath. Her chest and head felt lighter, incredibly relieved. It worked. Her gaze shifted from his blue eye to the side, expecting to see one of the Shadows. The fold of his cloak obstructed her view however, and her concern for their closeness mounted higher.

“Push me HARD. Or I’ll gut you like the wench you are!” Her hand rose off of his. “And try to buy me some time.”

Her fingertips were tingling with the Force, a hot and lively sensation in itself as she gathered it for the push. The corners of Tesa’s open lips raised into a smile. All right then. “Like HELL you are!” She twisted her arm, her hand clamping down just above his elbow. His hand loosened while Tesa lifted their arms, her hand sweeping into his side. The Force released as a forward thrust and throwing him away from her – hard, just as he’d asked. The next moment, she was sprinting away with an uncontrollable smirk on her face. How many people got to do that to him?

Overshooting the alley he told her to turn down, she ran by a store with crates sitting outside it. The crates lifted telekinetically and fell back down, crashing with loud bangs that made people jump, gasp, and move toward her to check out the commotion. Tesa slowed to a walk and let the gathering people envelope her, pushing her way gently to a thicker part. Then she went with the flow, letting the people carry her back the way she came. One last time to try to lose the Shadows.

She pinched her thumb and forefinger across her brow to catch the sweat before it crept into her eyes. After receiving a couple of strange looks for her heavy breathing, Tesa increased her walk so that she was beside a couple of new people. Her body was tired. Her legs were twitchy and her hands felt like they were thrumming. Her heart throbbed between her lungs, which were painfully sore from the constant recycling of air.

Tesa stepped several meters into the alley Graffion had directed her into, then turned and faced the entrance. Standing up straight, she sucked in a large breath through her nose. The exhale dragged out of her mouth. Reaching up under her shirt, Tesa pulled her lightsaber off the clip and placed her thumb on the igniting slider. Time. He needs time. Bloody man, how long does he think I can hold these guys off? They’ll find me. I know they will. I don’t… have the means. Damn it all. Why don’t I have the means? She switched the lightsaber to her offhand long enough to wipe her dominant hand’s palm free of sweat. I need to learn a way. I need to learn what my master did. Or some other way. They don’t understand I don’t want to fight with them. They’re so stuck in their… idiotic, egotistical moral views that they can’t except my way of the Force. When it’s all the same. How could I think they’d be smart enough to understand that?

The human Jedi came into the alley and Tesa let go of a shaky breath. With another deep inhale, Tesa found her discipline. Her cover of denial moved away and Tesa consciously allowed her fear to overtake her. Chaos filled her mind and body. The fear rampaged, wild and unchecked, her fight or flight instinct screaming and flourishing in her.

“Do you really think you’re going to get away?”

Bold words for a Jedi. “Just leave me alone,” she trembled out. Come on now. Control… control it… Her hands shook, and she gripped tighter to her lightsaber. “I want nothing to do with you.”

“But your friends do,” he told her as the Amaran stepped in beside him. Where is the third?

“I am not my friends.” With a commanding pull, Tesa mixed the Force with her fear, making it almost overwhelmingly potent. At first, it was like a flooded river; the bands were wide and outside her grasp. Yet as the two fused together, Tesa gained a foothold of her fear through her ability to control the Force. She began to leech off her own fear, funneling it into the Force, and enjoying the sensation of empowerment as the currents became concise. “I want to be left alone.”

Flicking her wrists, small bins soared through the air at the Shadows. She backtracked down the alley. Papers fluttered and plumed wildly as she tossed those in their faces as well. The papers bubbled and some came back toward her. Metal shrieked as she wrenched ladders from their positions and flung them relentlessly into the. A lightsaber flashed, cutting the ladder. With a Force push, Tesa sent a dumpster banging then bouncing off a wall and smashing into the ground in front of the Shadows. Backdoors were yanked out of place and sent, spinning, down the alley. Tesa deflected trash with small bursts from her palm, plucked lamps from their directed path so they didn’t hit her, and made other items slingshot around her, guided by her hand, to be hurtled back at her targets.

Time. He needs time. Each step brought her closer to the door. Reaching past the Shadows, she yanked materials and objects that she’d already thrown to try and smack them from behind. With a sweeping motion, Tesa made dust float and cloud the width of the alley. Dust clotted in her mouth, making her cough, the motion reminding her how weary she was growing. This is about all the time I can give. Twisting her hands, she made the dust swirl, but she saw the lightsaber blazing and knew they were still coming.

Spinning on her toes, Tesa’s back turned on the Shadows. The dust created a thick, hazy, moving wall, moving with the Shadows as they advanced down the alley. Tesa felt foggy as she ran the rest of the way to the warehouse door. Better be here. Better be ready. She lifted one last bin and send it smashing into the warehouse wall just beside the door as a warning to Graffion. Her hand collapsed the door’s key to open and she pressed her shoulder against the door as it opened, but she proceeded carefully.

“Maruhuey?” What a horribly pathetic wheeze. Damn dust. She heard sounds of shouts and whines of blaster fire and keyed the door to stop. Just a little more room to get through. She slid in sideways, shut the door, and locked it. It might not stop the Shadows if they were smart. All at once, all power in usage, Tesa dropped instantly and instead searched for Graffion’s presence, calling back on memory for how he felt.

Door on the left, she remembered as well. Wary of the sounds of a fight and though worried that Graffion might be engaged in other troubles, she went toward the only door she saw.

[Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice*]

Graffion knew it would hurt, and had fully expected the action. Yet still, the power of the force caught him off guard. Like a shot or a landing, no matter how much you expected it, you never knew until it was real. Well, he felt as though the entire crowd had grabbed him and with all their collective might lifted him in the air. Was a meter and a half or two meters? he couldn't tell, all he knew is that he was slamming against the ground much further than where he'd started and Tesa was running the direction he'd instructed.

His back throbbed in pain, but he didn't care. He didn't have time for such petty things as pain. Nothing was broken, just skin. He rolled to his feet, and as soon as the Jedi passed his peripherals he sprinted. Graffion was not the fastest on his feet, but he was moving as quickly as he could now. If Tesa bought him enough time he'd be able to catch his breath and have the battle-field set to his advantage in no time.

Buildings tore past him, he bounded one corner and found the warehouse...problem, he was on the wrong side. Cursing, he traced along the wall, turning a corner, and then sprinting to where the wall of the warehouse conjoined with the mouth of an alley. Opposite the mouth, along the center of the wall, was the door he wanted. He reached into a pocket and produced a key-card. Sliding it into place, he gently opened the door and peaked in. Nobody was guarding this entrance, as he'd expected. Silently, he padded in, leaving the card outside for Tesa, and closing the door behind him. On the left there was a door. It was plain, steel door.

He was careful as he opened it. The thugs were not far from him and he didn't want the door to squeak and alert them. It would be a bloody shame if he'd have to make a mess of them before the Jedi arrived. Gently closing the door behind him, he looked around.

That door had lead to a small office space, which connected to a second, larger office space. The first room was stuffy, with a few filing cabinets and a desk that contained shipping logs and business ledgers. In the rear was a glass slide door that could be pushed gently open. It lead to a two story room with cubicles and office machines along the walls. In the far right corner was a stair that lead up to the open-second story. It had catwalks along the walls and one running from end to end along the middle, connecting two or three personal storage rooms and a breaker-room. At the far left corner was a ladder which lead to the roof.

Graffion started setting up immediately. In the first room where he had entered he overturned the desk, making it able to conceal him and cover against any potential blaster fire. He didn't know what these pursuers had on them or what they could do, and he didn't want to get shot or stabbed upon their immediate entrance. The key to this fight would be the key to any fight. Lure the enemy into a false sense of comfort.

Through the door he went, into the second room. The first order of business was to rip one of the desks out of its resting place and drag it over to the door, standing it up right. He could slide it into place on his retreat and bar the door as best he could. It would buy him some time. Then, he sprinted to the end of the room and hopped up the stairs two at a time. He ran across the cat walks until he was directly above the entrance to the doorway.

Reaching into his belt he grabbed two things; the first was a flash-bang. He placed it on the rail of the cat-walk. The second thing he grabbed was a string. He tied it tightly along the trigger mechanism of the grenade and draped it down the catwalk so that he could reach it from the bottom floor. Making sure that the grenade was firmly wedged between rail and cat-walk so that it wouldn't come loose, he leaped down the cat-walk. Time would be up by now. He needed to get ready.

walking into the first room he got in position along the desk, at a crouch taking cover. Whatever may come, he was committed. He took this opportunity to catch his breath. It didn't take long. He was in an excellent physical shape and his body could handle the exercise. He needed to calm his heart, that was the thing which pounded.

"Assassin's don't fight with passion or emotion. They fight with the coldness of death." He repeated, the mantra of his master, Artemis Entreri.

As though the platitude was a magic trick, he felt a sudden calmness to himself. His heart rate slowed dramatically, being a healthy amount over the normal but still enough that his body was excited and ready. He took out his Wookie-Bowcaster, leveling it at the door-way.

He heard a voice, a soft wheeze, barely audible from the other side of the door. It was Tesa. After a few moments, he heard the door open, and Tesa slid in. "What's behind door number one?" Graffion's voice asked, a calm chill that spoke of death, "It's an alley cat."

She seemed relieved to see him, "Use the door behind him, and don't linger, head to the fire-escape ladder in the back."

There was only a second of hesitation before she did as he told her. This was his show now. As she moved out of his line of sight, his muscled arm primed the bolt into place, a few few humans could accomplish so quickly, and readied the bowcaster. One finger reached up to his mechanical eye and softly clicked against it. His vision turned into a new spectrum that allowed him to sillouhettes through the thing steel door.

A few seconds passed.

A shape slid into place behind the door. It started reaching for the door handle. Graffion exhaled. The handle turned ever so slightly, and as Graffion pulled the trigger, the figure, a human, seemed to prick up as though they could sense him about to take the shot. A second later the bowcaster launched, a loud noise exploded from the gun, and then the sound of steel being torn to bits as the bolt slammed home, blasting a very large hole through the door.

The human jedi on the other side had somehow knew it was going to happen, somehow thrown them self out of the way. But it was barely enough to save them. The bolt hit the wall behind them and bounced around, ricocheting across the tiny hall. It didn't seem to strike his opponent, but shrapnel from the door embedded itself all along the humans legs and side.

They did not get up, but he could see them stirring. He could hear the voice of the Amaran telling them to stay down.

Graffion wasted no time in replacing the bolt on his bowcaster and sliding into a ready position. When he looked up, the Amaran was already in the room. so goddamn fast. He thought to himself.

He leveled the bow caster at the Amaran.

"Turn yourself in, and I will give you to the authorities alive." The Amaran said, "I just want the girl."

"What happens when two men want what only one can have?" Graffion asked, pulling the trigger. Dead. There was no way, at this distance, the Amaran could survive.

That's when Graffion figured out the big secret. Jedi. It wasn't just an Amaran. Even an Amaran couldn't dodge that fast. In his head, a thousand curses were flung Tesa's way. How dare she be force affiliated, how dare she bring this upon him! But the assassin side of him didn't care, and that was the side of him he needed to listen to. That side told him he had missed his shot and needed to move on to the next phase of his plan.

He bolted for the door. The amaran recovered from his dodge and followed. With one arm Graffion holstered his bowcaster. It was a practiced feet. If he hadn't done it a thousand times he would have dropped it for sure. With the other he opened the door in the rear and hoped Tesa was at the ladder or close to it as he pushed the desk to block the door, "The Jedi will not be long!" He shouted.

[Squee]

Her muscles relaxed with her small relieved sigh when she found Graffion behind the door. A tired smirk touched her lips at what he had to say. “Now you know why I’ve called you Kitty.” Tesa shut the door behind her and glanced upward, trying to see what Graffion had set up. Nothing above her. Looking forward again and listening to Graffion’s instructions, she stepped over the desk he was crouched behind and ducked through the door. “There’s fighting out there,” she announced to him when she passed by.

Tesa found the ladder he’d told her about, after a flight of stairs. Instead of going toward it, though, Tesa breathed out heavily and groaned as she sat on the ground, by the stairs. Her legs drew up, crossing, and she rested her forearms on her knees as she leaned her back and head against the wall. Here she would stay. Graffion would quickly learn what her pursuers were and would need help, she was certain of it. The Shadows would be tired, yes, from their chase, but they were stubbornly persistent on getting to her. Once Graffion became on obstacle, he would become a target as well. Tesa wasn’t about to let the Jedi take him away from her, not when she lost him once. Who was to say what would happen afterward? All Tesa knew that for a short time, she had Graffion on her side, and that brought an odd comfort to her and lessened some of her previous fear.

She counted getting Graffion back as a massive success. Thinking back on how she’d considered him leaving a failure, the anger was dimmed because she had won him back. Tesa could continue to pursue him, ease him into trusting her, and somehow get him to think beyond her Force sensitivity. For now, however, he was going to have to deal with it. There was no other way for her to fight.

Of fighting, Tesa was exhausted. She felt like her skin was crawling with bugs from her Force usage. If she been running and tossing things in the air, she would have been just fine. However, she had enhanced her body for the running, which drained her significantly. As she sat there, though maybe she only had a few minutes. A few minutes to dig deep for that last reserve, to yank it out and give the damn Shadows hell. Yet, Tesa knew she was going to need emotion before long; fear, anger, pain, anything would do. As long as it was passionate, as long as it came from someone, she would thrive on it and make it her conduit to sustaining power.

Tesa heard the blast from where she was sitting. The sigh expelled roughly from her, feeling like it came from her stomach. It had begun. She squeezed her lightsaber. Two at least. Three total, if the third had caught up. Not today. Fear stirred in her stomach and Tesa allowed it. She was tired. These Shadows had used less energy than her. They were trained to take down dark siders. Her stomach began to feel queasy and she called on the Force as she had in the alley. There was chaos for a few moments, but then the Force and her fear meshed together beautifully. She felt raw though and her ankles hurt. With effort, Tesa managed to incorporate her pain into the stream of power.

”The Jedi will not be long!”

“Good,” she replied. “I’m wearing thin, and these damn Shadows need to leave me alone.” Tesa heaved herself onto her feet and flipped her lightsaber into a reversed grip, but left it deactivated. She stood by the railing along the stairs and nodded, though Graffion would not see it. He was busy attempting the barricade the door. She heard the bang of the door as the Jedi behind it tried to open it naturally, no doubt. The Force seared a warning, feeling instinctual, and Tesa knew what was coming next.

“Graffion! MOVE!” Tesa had thrown the upper half of her body over the railing. Her arm thrust forward, empty hand stretching out as far as possible, to close the gap as much as she could between her and Graffion, allowing her a better chance. The Force stretched further and it felt as if tendrils, quick as snakes, shot from her fingers and wrapped themselves around Graffion. Directing her arm sideways, she yanked Graffion to the side, out of line with the door. In the following seconds, a dull but reverberating thudding the noise vibrated the air as both the door and the desk were forcefully shoved backwards and across the room with a strong Force push.

Without thought, Tesa found herself moving down the stairs, and her hand gesturing to another desk, her palm up. The desk levitated and as the Amaran made his entrance, she threw it at him. The desk twisted toward him but Tesa felt the Force burble with life as he pushed it back across the room. By then, she was at the bottom of the stairs, then brushed past Graffion… Nothing. The sudden knowledge almost stopped her cold. He feels nothing. She had hoped that she could feed off of Graffion’s emotions, but if he felt nothing…

“Now you’ve tried to hurt my friend,” she sneered. The human came in behind the Amaran, the Force pulsing about him in active use, his hand hovering his side. Was he healing himself? Splotches of blood speckled his leg, but he was standing and with a lightsaber in his hand. “I don’t appreciate that.”

“Then surrender, and no more attempts will be made,” the Amaran stated.

Tesa thumbed the activation button on her lightsaber hilt. The red blade raised up behind her back, since her grip was reversed. In response, the blue blades of both the Jedi came to hand. “I won’t let the likes of your kind take my freedom.”

“Then things are decided here.”

[Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice*]

"Then things are decided here."

"Indeed." Came Graffion's low murmur. He had jumped aside as the furniture had gone flying across the room, now he stepped out from behind a cubicle. Neither of his opponents seemed surprised; they had seen him, had sensed him, he'd guessed. That was the reason Graffion hated the Jedi. Throw objects across the air, throw lighting, choke a man with your thoughts, jump 10 meters, do all these things as much as you liked. It wouldn't help you when his knife came across your throat in your sleep. However, a Jedi could sense danger, sense intent, and sense destruction. Some were known to see the future or the past. What hope was all the tricks in the world if they could see him coming without ever seeing him?

Perhaps they would see this next thing coming. Perhaps they were too distracted. He was not the greater threat, however dangerous he had proven himself to be. Graffion's duty was to kill them and let Tesa escape. It occurred to him that he may very well die here, and for a second, a dose of fear gripped him. It subsided almost instantly, though. If he was to act, he would need to do so without hesitation. Once he moved, he couldn't stop. He would need full view of his senses; doubt would cloud him and fear would bog him down. He was not a force user, he did not draw strength from emotion, nor did he draw discipline from rigid rule structures like the jedi; he was an assassin. Capable of anything, because he was restricted by no rules, feelings tied him down, emotions clotted him. There was only the objective.

Objective; kill the Amaran. Tesa could take the wounded one. His eyes were set on the fur ball. How to do it? All of these thoughts raced through his mind in the 2.2 seconds he had revealed himself to his enemies. The Amaran had noticed him, but he had not yet acknowledged him. When it seemed as though nobody was moving, the Amaran's head slowly turned to view Graffion.

And that's when he moved. Graffion's hands whipped like snakes, drawing his pistol from it's holster. Under normal circumstances, the Amaran would simply knock blaster bolts away with his lightsaber; but these were slug rounds. The Amaran sensed it, he knew instantly the danger that posed itself before him. Graffion's arm jerked violently, but his wrist was tight and his aim controlled, and his fingers squeezed rapidly on the trigger. thunk- thunk- thunk- The fox-like created rolled forward, ducking his head as the slugs kicked dust up from the floors and sparked against the walls. Thunk- thunk- thunk- the sound was muffled by the silencer, but it was loud enough in these tight quarters. The Amaran took cover behind a desk. Wood splintered and the desk rattled as the slugs pierced the surface, but the desk was too thick for him to punch through. After expending five shots on the desk, Graffion knew it was useless.

Eleven slugs had been fired, and he had eighteen in his clip, without time to reload. Once the Amaran was safe behind his desk, he turned his attention to the human. Thunk- thunk- thunk- three more shots. The human lifted an object as he jumped out of the way. Fourteen shots fire. Four shots left. A plant rose from the corner of the room and came foliage first at Graffion, he ducked, finding himself down on the floor as the plant sailed overhead and crashed into a cubicle, some of the branches punching holes into the plaster wall.

From Graffion's prone position, he could still see the human. Thunk-....thunk- thunk-. A warning shot, he waited to see which way the jedi dodged. left, he fired to the left. A chunk of wall was thrown in the way, catching the two slugs. Graffion had one shot left. In the corner of his thermal vision, he saw the Amaran creeping his head out of the desk. Graffion whipped his arm in that direction and fired. It was too quick for the Amaran to dodge, but it was also too fast to aim. The slug round sailed right passed the Amaran's ear.

Damn, and he'd almost killed a Jedi.

Graffion jumped to his feet and bolted, dropping his pistol. He was charging straight for the Amaran. The fox creature stood to it's height, a good foot or so shorter than Graffion. Graffion lifted himself over the desk, kicking at the Foxes face. The Fox grabbed Graffion's ankle with one hand, the other hand lifting an unlit lightsaber. Graffion's other foot leapt out, surrendering his balance for a powerful strike into the Amaran's chest. His opponent lurched backward a meter, right into the wall. Graffion had no balance, and his ankle had been yanked from the impact the Amaran took, so he went crashing into the ground behind the desk. He wasted no time with the pain, leaping to his feet.

He dodged away from the Amaran, and just in time as an electric *swhoom* sound buzzed and the air behind him seared with heat. The lightsaber had been ignited. Graffion was bathed in its blue light, and his nerves suddenly tightened, his stomach screaming in terror. Instead of letting the fear take him, he let adrenaline shoot through his body and tightened his fingers on his sword-grips. The metallic *shling* of his swords was not as intimidating as the lightsaber's menacing buzz, but it was enough. Two scimitars matching up against a lightsaber. He had a serious disadvantage. And his blades were shorter by a hand's length.

The Amaran poked forward to test Graffion's reflexes. Graffion leaped back, then again, then again. Finally, the Amaran gave a shoulder to hip swing at Graffion and he ducked under the blade running to his left. The Amaran recovered from his strike and gave pursuit. Graffion was running full speed toward the entrance of the room where the two Jedi had chased him in from the start. The Amaran was faster, gaining ground, but Graffion had a head-start. He hit the wall next to the door with a hard thud, leaping into the air and place one foot into the wall to bounce back the other way. The Amaran must have seen his plan by now, and getting ready.

He turned slightly. The Amaran was getting himself in position to counter Graffion's attack with a hard saber slash. Perfect. As Graffion vaulted off the door he lifted both his hands up. His curved scimitar slid up between the cracks in the grated catwalk above him, hooking in place. One hand let go of his Scimitar, dropping it to the ground and reaching out for...a string. A string attatched to a flash bang. He turned off his mechanical eye and yanked the chord.

The Amaran tried to close his eyes, but it was too late. BANG. The Flash was bright, blinding. The noise it emmitted left both of them ringing. Graffion and Amaran alike screamed for a second at the pain, but Graffion held his grip and his mechanical eye came back on. His other eye would be blind despite the lid having been closed, so he kept it closed. He was given a clear image of the Amran beneath him, holding his head. The Lightsaber had almost cut him in half in his reaction, so the Amaran had decided it prudent to disengage the beam. Graffion swung on his scimitars through the air and came crashing down on his prey hard. They fell to the ground, and Graffion's head slammed into the Amaran's forehead, then slamming the back of the Amaran's head hard into the floor beneath them.

The Amaran was out cold. Graffion stood up awkwardly, almost unable to move. He was disoriented, and fell back down. He could see, but his head couldn't register very well. His legs were wobbly. He was vaguely aware that a desk was sailing toward him. It glanced his shoulder, throwing him into the wall. As his head slammed against the back of the wall, everything went black and his consciousness was flooded with sleep. The whole fight had only been about a minute and a half, if that.

[Squee]

“Indeed” was followed by a quick motion that made even Tesa raise her lightsaber in front of her body, as if to guard herself from an attack. As she sidestepped to be further out of Graffion’s range, she felt the fear. It pierced through her like a spear, shocking and startling, but at the same time, satisfying a need of hers that felt so necessary. She welcomed Graffion’s fear into her, sucking it into herself like a great breath of needed air, and joined it to her well of emotions. Just like that, it was gone, and so was the feed into her emotional vortex. Frustration swelled within her as she desired for that fear to return, because it was the most addictive of all emotions and she could not expect the Jedi to give it to her.

The Amaran had gone into cover and the human was using broken wall to catch Graffion’s slugs. Which one are you taking, Graffion? Which one? Please take the Amaran. I need the human’s pain, please. And then his pistol was clattering on the floor and he went for the Amaran. Yes…

The human dropped his wall and went after Graffion. But Tesa had already launched herself forward, lightsaber humming as it sliced through the air. Summoning the Force to her empty hand, Tesa touched the shoulder of her lightsaber arm. Strength swelled into her shoulder, spread across her neck, and flowed around the other shoulder. Her lightsaber flipped in her hand and she raised it up as she skipped the last piece of distance, sailing the lightsaber down in a vicious overhand blow. The Jedi had seen her coming and raised his lightsaber to block her. His arms shuddered under her attack.

And Tesa grinned.

The lightsaber hissed apart, and Tesa’s arms swung to her right to attack the human’s wounded side. As his lightsaber caught hers again, she saw the pain glow in his eyes. That pain flooded into her and she quickly churned it into her use, directing it to sustain her enhanced strength. The lightsabers crackled again, at her right, and again the pain flashed. Then, once more, Tesa felt that delicious fear, making her blood sing with pure delight. Graffion’s. She could almost taste his presence riding on that fear.

His lightsaber slid forward to prod at her left side and Tesa knocked it to the side powerfully and followed overhand only to be stopped again. “You’re in pain.” She swung again, left this time, but as his lightsaber moved smoothly to meet hers, she thumbed the ignition button. The red blade disappeared and as the human stumbled left, Tesa’s leg slammed into his side.

The pain screeched through her, loud and clanging, like a thousand voices crying out. The laugh was past her lips before she realized it. The pain meshed so well in the Force. “You’re in PAIN,” she told the Jedi joyously as he pushed himself off the wall. The Shadow’s blue lightsaber flashed toward her, and Tesa leapt back nimbly, her lightsaber snapping back into life. She blocked once, twice, thrice, and a fourth time before sneaking a counterstrike in. Yet he blocked and thrust his hand forward.

The Force push caught her full in the chest, crushing her lungs, and forcing all her breath out. Her feet left the ground as her lightsaber extinguished, but then she was crashing back into the ground before truly realizing she’d left it. Her entire weight crunched down onto her back, and Tesa’s mouth opened in a silent shout of the pain. Her mind cried that she needed to breath, but the pressure in her chest had not yet alleviated. As she struggled to remember how to breathe, she saw the human coming for her, lightsaber held off to his side. A fit of panic scorched through her senses and that was what she needed. Tesa stretched her arm off to the side, panic driving her, and swooped up a battered desk in the Force. The tiniest of breaths squeaked its way down her throat as she chucked it at the human.

He saw it coming, though, and tossed himself onto the ground. For that, Tesa was grateful, because it gave her time to hiccup through two more breaths. Then the blockage in her chest dissipated and the air flowed quickly, though her chest ached fiercely. Her hand grasped into the air, and the side of a cubicle tore free from the wall. Swiping her arm, the cubicle walling slid through the air swiftly and collided into the human, who had just gotten to his feet.

Tesa rolled onto her side and stood up. A great bang rocked the room behind the human and caused an obnoxious ring to settle in her ears. Tesa growled harshly in her throat. I am so done with this. She tugged again in the Force and sent another desk on its way for the human, but he was on the floor for some reason. She took the steps toward him, seeing him now, seeing him disoriented as he tried to stand, as the second plant in the room sailed for him. At the same time, she threw a chair at his front. The plant struck him in the back and the human pitched forward, spilling onto the ground. The chair flew harmlessly past him, uninterrupted.

Tesa dropped her knees into his back, knowing she was crushing his chest the way he’d crushed hers. Her hand grasped the back of his head, nails digging into his scalp, and with physical contact firmly established, she forced her way into his unprotected mind. She felt his immense pain first, his confusion second due to the din in his ears, and saw how they were blinding him, preventing action. The unfortunate combination had made her entrance into his mind too easy. He couldn’t breathe, and his body started to squirm in natural reaction, to create some space for air to come in. Tesa’s closed fist came down hammer-like near his side, stopping all chances of taking in air as the pain overcame his mind. Tesa influenced the pain with the Force, making it feel bolstered. She could feel his mind start to shut down because it believed his body was undergoing too much intense stress. With a crooked smile on her mouth, Tesa grabbed the back of his collar, and slammed his head once into the floor.

The light of his mind went solidly dark.

Tesa pushed away from the unconscious Shadow and sat down jarringly. As she let the Force flow away, she realized just exactly how spent she truly was. She felt as though she had a case of the jitters. Her skin, cool with sweat, now completely crawled with invisible insects. Her shoulders ached and her chest felt like it had suffered a cave-in. There was a tingling buzz still in her ear, but other than that the room was quiet.

The room… was quiet.

Hastily, Tesa shoved herself onto her feet, exhaustion making her swerve momentarily. “Graffion?” A grunt replied. He was sitting up, a hand pressed against his head. A quick smile pressed her lips. He looked a little beat up, but she’d worry about wounds and scrapes in a bit. First, they needed to get out of here before that third Jedi found them. Where was her lightsaber? Turning her head this way and that, she spotted it and then deemed it easier to walk over to pick it up rather than expending the energy to call the Force. “We need to leave. There is a third one up and about somewhere.” She looked up toward him after picking up the cylinder hilt and alarm passed through her, shocking her eyes wide. “Graffion! Leave him be! I don’t want them dead!”

Someone would come looking for the Shadows, or, more likely, the third Jedi would find them. If they were dead, the search would continue then, looking for her and/or seeking Graffion, in order to bring them to justice. Tesa didn’t want justice, she wanted the Jedi out of her life. She didn’t want them snooping around in business that was rightfully entitled to only herself. If the Shadows stayed alive after encountering her, it would deliver the message that she had no ill-intents and that would hopefully end all thought the Jedi would ever put into her.

“Don’t you dare.”

[Kella]

Sellah followed her nose to a door, but quickly changed her course when she heard the Amaran scream. The air drifting under the door smelled of sweat and fear. She could pick out the Amaran, the Human, the woman, and the odd man. Charging straight through the door would be unwise.

The Selonian slunk silently along the wall, ear pressed close to hear. The sounds made her heartrate surge, lit a fire of urgency behind her, but oddly left her mind clear to think. A flash in the force, danger.

Sellah stepped back then launched herself into the wall, riding a wave of the Force. The sheetrock exploded outward, a curtain of dust rising into the air. No sooner had her front paws touched the ground as she'd seen the man rise to strike the human down, and so spun on a dime to leap again at his torso.

He moved to duck, but was too late; she felt the claws of her right hand dig into the flesh of his cheek, tearing downwards, while her left hand collided solidly with his shoulder. He fell backwards and Sellah continued over him, tucking into a roll before whipping back around. He started to rise, an intense look in his eye, but Sellah never let him find his balance. She surged forward, muscles rippling, and shoved him down against a desk, feeling his ribs crack under the force. Her hand found a hefty steel stapler, which she cracked against his temple. The man went limp and Sellah stepped back, letting him slide off the desk.

By that moment, her mind was afforded a moment to catch up. Her ears swiveled warily and her nostrils flared, but there was no threat in her posture when she turned calmly to look at the girl.

She was silent a moment, then, "Why don't you want them dead?"

[Squee]

Tesa was unprepared for the wall to cave in.

Her senses were on low, her vision bleary, and her mind slow due to exhaustion. Graffion raised to kill the Jedi had awakened her slightly, yes, but she had been sure he would have stopped. He did pause, and it brought her slight respite. She could imagine the curiosity that must be fumbling through his mind. Why not kill them? His assassin mind would be thinking. Takes care of them. Indefinitely. They would never return.

So for the wall to come down with a crash and crumble, and for the animal to ride in on the ruin and dust, Tesa was woefully unprepared. Before she could issue a warning to Graffion, the Selonian reared toward him, already on him. She was moving too fast. Much too fast. And Tesa was moving too slowly. Graffion was already engaged, and Tesa had only managed to unclip her lightsaber once again. The ducking, the rolling, back at Graffion. He was too slow, too. Curse this exhaustion. The adrenaline was building too sluggishly. Shoved against the desk, crunching sounds, the stapler, the crack of a blunt object.

Tesa’s lightsaber ignited once more and she roared an unintelligent note at the Selonian as Graffion went limp. Anger burned her veins again, and the snarl had returned. “You leave him ALONE.” The shout was like racking claws on the inside of her throat. It would be sore later. Tesa watched Graffion slide off the desk, her anger doubling though disgust wriggled down the line from her mouth to her stomach. Her stance was defiant, but Tesa was too tired to make the first move. She did not want this fight, but Force be damned if she wasn’t going to muster up as much strength as she could.

The Selonian turned to her without threat however. How could she stand there so calmly? After what she did to Graffion? “"Why don't you want them dead?"

“Because I want no fight with you!” Tesa replied immediately, vehemently. This was the third Jedi, she knew it. She carried on, passionately, “I just want you out of my life! I want you gone!” Her heart thudded suddenly, spiked with fear for Graffion, as if the Selonian might bring further harm to him because of her words. “And move away from him! Over there!” Tesa gestured wildly to a spot farther from Graffion. Her voice then rumbled in a growl, “What do you want from me? What do I do to make you go away?”

[Kella]

Sellah's mind whirred. Things started to click into place. She could take a chance. Sellah walked slowly away from the fallen man, keeping the same distance between her and the woman. The weight of her lightsaber at her hip was comforting, but not the source of her confidence.

"I want no fight with you either. This was intended to be simply a recon sweep, no contact. You are not wanted. At least, not as a criminal. Maybe as an ally. But these two were sloppy." Sellah's muzzle wrinkled with a flicker of disgust as she glanced at the two fallen Jedi. "You ran, we chased. Predator-prey instincts." Sellah's eyes went to the man, and her voice quieted. "I should not have fallen into that mindset so quickly. For that I am sorry."

Sellah was quiet a moment. She took a deep breath, looking at the woman. Decisions. She didn't like making them, she liked following orders. Deferring to those far wiser. But if she didn't, who would? No time for a com link, and this woman wouldn't just cooperate. Come along for a bit. Either Sellah would have to work hard and burn bridges to capture her, or she'd have to let her entirely go.

"You... had committed no crime before we arrived. I could charge you with assault on a Jedi officer, but..." Her eyes flickered back to the Jedi. "I think they were kind of asking for it."

She looked back to the woman. "Only reason I'm here is to make sure you're not disemboweling people for fun or smuggling arms to the Sith or something. So... what do you say I do?"

Sellah seemed relaxed, at ease, but her eyes scrutinized the woman's every shift, her breath pulling in every subtle scent of the air. And, at any moment, her saber was only a heartbeat from the woman's neck.

[Squee]

Tesa’s rigidity lessoned when the Selonian moved away from Graffion. She watched this animal Jedi closely, though, waiting for some kind of deception. It hadn’t come yet, but Tesa was not expecting to get out of here without some kind of fight. She was tired, but the Selonian looked like she’d seen a little fight as well. Maybe she had a chance.

As the Jedi spoke, thoughts swirled in Tesa’s head, all clashing together. What she expected. What she was receiving. What she was hearing. How she was feeling. Not wanted? Oh good. Means she was still relatively unknown among the Jedi. But couldn’t this Jedi sense her? Sense who she was? To Tesa, things seemed obvious. If she could see herself, she would see an angry, snarling Dark Jedi, a potential threat. But this Selonian… Was she double guessing herself? Did she think to bring Tesa to the light side? Tesa wouldn’t tolerate such talks; she wanted nothing to do with the light side. It would take far too much time and rehabilitation, and Tesa didn’t have the patience or time to retrain herself. She could, however, obliged the Jedi with a little verbal interaction.

“If they hadn’t treated me like they were going to take me, I wouldn’t have ran.” It was a lame, stupid excuse, but it was what seemed proper to say. “Slightest hint of dark side, and Jedi crawl all over you,” she spoke carefully. It was already obvious of at least Tesa’s background, she figured. “Poking at you. Prodding at you. Hunting you down. Murdering you. Something other than the light side seems to turn Jedi into hounds, braying for your death.”

Tesa decided to take a chance when the Selonian still didn’t make a move to attack her. The red blade of her lightsaber disappeared with a harsh hiss and a soft pop. Without the constant hum perverting the air, it suddenly seemed dreadfully too quiet. The Selonian said what she could charge Tesa with, to which Tesa’s face contorted, immediately thinking that this was the trick. This is what the Jedi was going to use to arrest her.

“But… I think they were kind of asking for it.” Tesa’s face and shoulders relaxed, and her hard grip on the lightsaber slackened. Tesa began pacing slightly now, taking a couple of steps one way, then the other. When the Jedi finally asked what she should do, Tesa glanced at Graffion. Tesa might not be wanted, but Graffion might be. Somehow, she needed to convince this Jedi to let them both leave.

Her tone was raspy when she spoke, hoarse from her yell. “I am staying in a hotel near a string of docks. My old ship is there. I was trying to sell it, before you and your buddies chased me around the planet. There’s nothing on it but maybe a couple of personal affects still.” Strae’s bugs… “The one you just knocked out is my friend. We… had an argument yesterday.” Her hope was that this layer of honesty would buy her some version of trust in the Jedi.

Silence again. Tesa reached around her back, clipping her lightsaber in place. “Two Jedi lives I stopped my friend from taking.” Tesa held out her hand to one side, moving it in a smooth motion from the Jedi to Graffion. “He would have killed them merely to protect me. For my life and his.” Her other hand moved out from her side at equal level as the opposite. She raised her eyebrows at the Selonian Jedi, awaiting her answer to the proposed solution.

[Kella]

Sellah considered the woman's reasoning. "My intervention would have prevented either Jedi from dying. Whether or not you would have prevented him is irrelevant to the end result." But then her whiskers twitched in thought. "Their end result," she corrected. "I... believe your intentions. And that does change how I proceed."

Sellah hoped very greatly in that moment that she had made the right decision. Selonians were naturally honest folk, and even though she'd been raised among the Jedi, she lacked that natural instinct for picking up deception.

"However, I do not understand the significance of explaining the situation of your ship, though I do appreciate the information. Do you mean to imply some solution?"

Her expression piqued inquisitively, hopeful that there was some clear way out of this situation.

[Squee]

“I didn’t kill them before you got here!” Anger at this Selonian’s lack of belief got the better of Tesa. Her lightsaber remained clipped, however. Tesa didn’t want to appear like she was still threatening the Jedi. No, she just wanted the Selonian to see the courtesy and favor she had done. “I had my chance, but as you can see, the human remains alive.”

The Jedi’s response was not what Tesa expected or wanted. If she did not propose the right solution, it seemed, it would come down to fighting. If it came down to that, Tesa worried the Selonian might go after Graffion, currently the easiest to dispatch because he could not defend himself. Ever conscious of Graffion’s condition, Tesa prowled a couple of steps in his direction, hoping the Selonian would match her. It would bring her closer to Graffion, and the Selonian closer to her Jedi friends.

"I... believe your intentions. And that does change how I proceed."

“You can check for yourself if you cannot sense his life,” Tesa offered, though her tone was still irked. Another extension of her good will. Tesa circled a few more steps closer to Graffion, and allow the Selonian Jedi to close the distance between her and her friends.

“I’ve offered my solution. You leave, and I leave. Part ways. Take care of our wounded.” Tesa drew in breath through her nose, straightening out her back as she took the final step between the Selonian and Graffion. Feeling slightly better now and wrestling down her anger, Tesa continued: “I don’t want a fight with you. But there are plenty of people worse than me who want one. Who want to kill the Jedi. I’ve proved I do not. Since you’ve decided they deserved the battery they were given, there is nothing else I’ve done wrong. I told you, trying to sell my ship.” Then a spark went off in Tesa’s head, and she had to keep from smiling. I can get rid of Strae...“Take the ship, too, if you want it. Get your friends to a medical facility. Have an extra ship to use against the Sith. Get them patched up, and that’s two more Jedi to fight. I don’t care. I don’t know what else to offer you.”

Actually, she could offer Graffion. A man like him? He had to have done some job. Someone would link him. Tesa would be a good girl, turning in such a criminal and probably expose something horribly unlawful that’s worse than him. But Graffion wasn’t a bargaining chip. Not after he’d come to her rescue. Again.

[Kella]

Sellah knew that as soon as she started trying to analyze the situation, as soon as she started to think about... 'implications' and 'reading between the lines' and 'cost-benefit analysis' and all that, her mind would become thoroughly overwhelmed.

So she didn't even try. Instead, she listened to the small little voice in her head that told her to let the woman go. There was no logic to explain, no decision-making process, simply the fact that it felt... right.

That would have to be good enough.

"I accept your solution." She glanced down at the two fallen Jedi, then turned her eyes back to the woman. "The Jedi will find good use for your ship.

"You and your friend may go."

Sellah did not move. She stood protectively over the human and the Amaran, watching the woman warily and intending to closely observe her entire exit. Sellah might have reached an agreement with the woman, but that did not mean she trusted her.

[Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice*]

Graffion had woken up. He didn't open his eyes, except for a flutter, and he didn't move. There were voices. He lay still for a few minutes, listening to the sounds of the women speak. One was soft, and one was rough. One was familiar, and one was foreign and bestial. Slowly, things began to make more sense. Words started to slip through the barrier of haze and darkness. He still remained still and silent, some instinct told him that it was better to remain unconscious than to bring himself to full movement.

words like intentions, jedi, parting ways, and ship. He heard footsteps. Tesa's voice was getting closer, and the Selonian's voice farther. Still not aware of what was happening, Graffion felt himself reaching for consciousness. Reaching for Tesa? No, right now he was just reaching for life; any life, all life. He wished only to step from the darkness. His breathing changed, but he managed to keep it minute, and he didn't allow himself to stirr. He kept the one eye closed and activated his mechanical eye to get a view of the place. His head was not aimed in a direction to give him a good vantage.

The room was in carnage. He saw the unconscious body of the Jedi. One versus two. Well, one versus one, he was in no state to be considered an actual fighter. But if he could get to a gun...

Graffion snapped back to life, his eyes opening and his body jumping up in a sudden, vibrant display of life. He was awake, and on his feet, and looking around. The Selonian was across the room, and his sudden movement seemed to be a shock to both of the people near him. He stood to height, remaining silent, ominous, and keeping the appearance of being strong. But he was weak. His feet nearly collapsed beneath him. Exhaustion was on the throes of his body and he was sore all over. He'd been in worse states, yes, but it was seldom. When he'd lost his eye...

He felt stinging pains in his head, along with a wetness. His hand lifted up to rub up against his bare skin. He felt blood and torn skin along his cheek. A bloody, ruined cheek. A low growl escaped from his neck. He could feel the muscles along his throat tense and give out signals of pain as the growl signaled. He was sore everywhere. Every inch. He felt more blood, along his head. He reached up and caught the blood along his skull. Then he felt metal. Not a lot, but a thin layer of metal, and surge of pain as he touched it. He looked down for a second, and saw a small metallic device with blood along it.

"Did you..." he managed to gasp, "Did you staple my head?" It wasn't so much surprising as it was...well, she stapled his head? Who the hell does that? It was more amusing than anything else. He felt a slight rumble of laughter and a grin managed to come to his mouth. He looked at Tesa. The two still didn't seem to know what to do about him. He was a wildcard, he realized. They were, what, in the middle of a negotiation? Suddenly, he figured it was probably best if he'd stayed asleep. Too late now. He stopped his laughter and gave Tesa a puppy dog look, "She stapled my head. I like her. Can we be friends?" He gave a wolfish grin that spoke amusement.

In truth, he would have no problems killing the Selonian. Or the other two. In fact, for all the trouble they'd given him, he'd gladly slit their throats and hear their last wheezing breaths escape their lungs. But he was tired. He was exhausted, and to be honest, it was a little amusing. Painful, but amusing. Of course, under normal circumstances that would earn her a laughing death, not mercy. But he was in no position to decide how things would end. Today he would have to play house cat, not prowling panther.

One thing was for certain. Weakness took over, and he staggered backward, falling into a seat. He tried to sit up, but it resulted only in labored breaths. "Don't mind me. You were discussing?"

[Squee]

Tesa gave one firm nod at the Selonian when she was given permission to leave at the price of her ship. And while Tesa’s face was contorted into a frown, like someone who was unhappy about giving up an expensive ship, she rejoiced inwardly. She’d managed to bribe a Jedi off her back and eliminate any lingering ties with Strae. It was a good day. The only problem she had yet to resolve was the unconscious Graffion laying…

Jumping to a stand right behind her. Tesa, who had already been turning around, took a step back at his sudden movement, mildly alarmed. “Graffion…” she rumbled, her voice a gentle warning. She held her hands out and double checked to make sure she was directly between him and the Selonian. After all she had discussed with the Selonian Jedi, she wasn’t about to let Graffion ruin it. Exhausted as Tesa was, she thought she could at least smack him unconscious again if need be. She really didn’t want to since he’d already been knocked out twice and she had knowledge and experience of what concussions did to the head.

“Everything is fine,” she said, voice soft this time. His fingers were groping around his head now, his expression confused and pained. Tesa took a half step toward him. “You shouldn’t be standing right now. You should relax.”

There was something about a staple and then he started laughing. Tesa rolled her eyes. She didn’t have the patience to deal with this maniacal state of mind. She needed to assess his concussion injury and then figure out how to get him out of here. Well… rather when to get him out of here. Though there didn’t seem to be much choice; she wasn’t calling for an emergency response team and the Selonian didn’t look like she was leaving any time in the next few minutes. There was no telling who wanted Graffion for what at this point.

When he stumbled, Tesa went forward and caught his arm, clumsily “helping” him into the seat. “We just finished discussing, actually. We’re getting out of here as soon as we can.” She eyeballed the bloody part of his head but decided not to touch. The staple could be dealt with later; she was more concerned about his cheek and brain. “Do you feel all right?” Pulling her long sleeve down over her hand, she pressed her now covered palm against his marred cheek. “Besides tired? I’m going to clear this blood and put a strip on to hold your skin together. I can take better care of it later.” She didn’t want to move him, but if she could get an airspeeder taxi to land to carry them back to her hotel… “Tell me when you think you can stand, and we will go.”

[Kella]

Every one of Sellah's muscles tensed as the man jumped back to life, entire body prepared to react, adrenaline rushing to her toes and fingertips. But as she watched, the woman simply began fretting over the man, so she waited.

She waited for the woman to finish her doting, then she waited for the two to leave. She waited a few more minutes to call in for backup, to ensure that there was no trap, and then she waited for that backup to arrive, checking each Jedi every so often for breath. Once backup had arrived, she waited for the paramedics, and when the paramedics arrived, she waited for them to complete their obligatory exam of all three of the Jedi. Once that matter was taken care of, she waited for the Watchman of the system to pick up his comm, then gave her report, including the acquisition of the ship. Thinking she was then done, Sellah found she had to wait again, for the Watchman to finish his lecture on bribes. Her ears and tails drooped and she apologized for her naivety. It wouldn't happen again. She waited for him to check the papers, waited at the hangar for the deeds to go through, waited for the watchman to arrive and check the trip for trackers and traps, then waited for the charter pilot to arrive and the watchman to leave.

Sellah had been waiting, waiting, waiting, drug from one thing to another, and when she finally boarded the ship home the Selonian Jedi collapsed, utterly exhausted, and spent the next twelve hours in sleep.

[Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice*]

Graffion stood up, gritting his teeth through nausea and headache, "I can stand." He blinked a few times, "At least until we get to a...safer place." Apparently they didn't have a ship to go to, which didn't please him at all. But he'd have to trust Tesa on this one. He pointed at his gear and gruffly mentioned, "Swords. Bow." Everything else was replaceable, but those particular swords were hand-crafted and important to him. Artemis had given them to him. They were Graffion's swords, and he'd not have them auctioned, pawned, or used by whatever police, thugs, or workers happened to find all this mess. As for the wookie bowcaster, those things were hard to get a hold of. Even the extra bolts were rather expensive and rare anywhere off Kashyyyk. It would be a pain in the ass to get a replacement.

His first sword was close by, and the second sword was still across the room where the Selonian had...entered, and found his sword hanging from the top of the catwalk where he had hooked it. It had been a desperate move, but it had worked, technically. He reached up with his first sword, feeling a little queazy, and knocked the second one down. He didn't bother to try to catch it as it fell, he would probably just cut his hand off. He grunted as he leaned forward to pick it off the ground, sheathing both weapons with a clang.

He found his bowcaster buried behind a fallen desk. It must have fallen off when the Selonian had, presumably, knocked him into the desk and then unconscious. That thought made his had sting for a second. He yanked the bowcaster from underneath the desk. No need to be cautious with it; you could beat a rancor to death with it and it wouldn't break. When he had gathered everything he actually cared about he slowly turned to Tesa and said, "I have wounds that need tending to. We should make haste to a safe-house." Not only that, but he desperately didn't want to be here when the police showed up. It wouldn't do him any good to go to prison.

"My apartments will no longer be an option." he told her, "I'll follow you to safety. And let's not make it an adventure, Tesa. I've had enough of your adventures for the day." He needed to get his head fixed and get to sleep. The very idea of sleep almost made him collapse. But he had to get to Tesa's place...wherever she was going.

"I'm with you." He said, somehow managing to plaster on that cocky little smirk he was so proud of.