Fangs of the Fox [3599 bby]

[Fromikeable]

The world was slowly whining back into a symphony of chaos, the ringing in Vance's ears starting to die. That trap really had been improvised; he was sure that given enough time, Novus would have set it up to turn her enemies completely deaf. Whatever damage had been done, it undoubtedly could have been worse. That just made him realize how truly she was flying by the seat of her pants. He tried not to focus on just how responsible he was for getting her there, for everything that had happened tonight.

That was something to digest later, either in a jail cell or a ship to Rhen Var.

Their run across the hotel's upper path came into focus as the world did. Glaring lights. Shouts from the ground below. A far-off threat. “Stop... If you don’t want... Vance hurt.” That sparked a twinge of guilt and a flicker of hope at once. Locke didn't want to shoot at him. Novus didn't want to abandon him. Neither one wanted him to get shot, judging by the way Novus was pulling him along and the way Locke's shots merely dusted his still half-slicked hair with plaster.

That was the strangest comfort, knowing that they were both yanking on a metaphorical limb, the acts threatening to tear him in half.

Novus stopped, making Vance stumble as she threw her knife. Barrels were leveled from below, shaky in Vance's vision as he tried to collect himself. He couldn't help but gasp for air a bit. What was their plan? What were they going to do? How would Novus get them out? She must have had a plan, she always had a plan, even when-

Then she spoke, and his heart sat in his throat. Keep going?

"But, no, I'm not just going to-" Hearing his own voice, he cleared it roughly, panting out a second attempt. "I can't just leave, what're you going to-" She wasn't listening, turning and raising her hands. No, he couldn't just leave. He literally couldn't. Where was he going to go? What was he going to do? What he would even want to do? That was the scariest question out of them all. What possible plan could h-

Trust her. Staring at her back, something in his head clicked. Staring at her back for a second, his breath caught like a hitch. It was less a realization and more of an impulse. A new feeling he wasn't familiar with, one he couldn't even label. His psyche demanded that he stop and study it, that he wait, but as Locke finally caught up, it became clear that there was no such time.

Just trust her. Taking a spinning look around, Vance appraised his options. The front of the hotel was swarmed with gun barrels just waiting to shoot them both. Locke was to one side. A stairwell was to another. There were cops both up on the roof and down the ground, going either way with those stairs was fruitless. Lateral movement was worthless. Horizontal movement was limited to behind them.

Vance spun around, appraising the wall full of hotel room doors. As a megaphone from below screamed at him to stop moving, he picked the nearest one and smashed his palm to it. With a tumultuous, rough bash of the Force, it splintered, revealing a shoddy room with a single window.

Sprinting to the window, Vance took a half-second peek. They were only a few stories up, and below in the alley was a tall speeder. Without another thought, he took three steps backward, stretching out his hand again. The window shattered in much the same way as the door, and without another thought, he was springing into a running leap, cutting his shoulders on shards of glass as he jumped.

Hitting the speeder's roof with a hard thud, not even pain managed to bite through his newfound sensation. Rolling off and holding his now-aching ribs, he kept running. He had to.

[Rugs]

A knife flashed through the air. Locke retained enough of his Jedi sense--and the ringing in his ears only dimmed his hearing, rather than his balance, thankfully--to lean hurriedly to the side. The metal nicked his cheek, right above the beard line. Too amped up on adrenaline to wince at the pain, Locke wondered briefly if she’d coated the blade with some poison.

Wouldn’t that be the way? For all of his hard work to get ruined by a stupid knife?\

If that’s the case, I’ll just have to work quickly, he told himself, steeling his nerves Darth Novus turned to face him.

“Yea, I can...” he answered her. ”No thanks to you.” In spite of the ringing that wouldn’t fucking stop inside his ears, he couldn’t be mad at Novus for the trap. Oh, he was pissed that she used it on him, but the execution of it all, well, wasn’t bad.

”The game I want to play...” he said, straining to focus on the Force again, It was getting easier now, at least. ”Is you giving it up and letting this... foolishness end. You’re not getting out of this city.” His eyes narrowed at her. ”Stop delaying the inevitable.

A lot of things then happened at once. Vance, apparently deciding it was his moment to break for freedom, blew open the door to the room behind him. One of Locke’s officers fired after the fleeing padawan, as Locke swore in High Galactic.

“I don’t think you should make threats that you aren’t prepared to go through with, Locke,”[/i] she told him. “And I did make you a promise, the other night.”

Locke grit his teeth. He gave a signal to the men--three fingers raised--to keep them from firing as he lowered his hand and wiped the cut on his cheek with his thumb. ”Here’s your damn blood, lady,” he snarled telepathically.

His mind raced, eyeing the now-open door behind her. Vance on the loose was not ideal, but he couldn’t risk her escaping. A heartbeat passed as he contemplated gunning her down. She didn’t have a lightsaber out, and even a mighty Dark Lord could fall to some plasma to the chest or head.

No, his aim shifted slightly. Lower. She was more use to the Republic alive than dead.

”Sorry ‘bout it,” he said suddenly. He squeezed the pistol’s twist. Two bolts of plasma, red and angry, streaked toward Novus’ side and her thigh.

[Neology]

[googlefont="News Cycle"]

In a situation like this, the command had to be simple – or better, instinctual. Alas, Novus was sure she wanted nothing like the latter from a random draw of armed Republic goons. A silver thread of awareness stretched out to each. ”SIT … ” She could have escaped the city like this, if she had been willing to abandon Vance. But it never would have gotten her off world. Too many people with much bigger guns, all too far away to touch in this manner. Ship and self reduced to an atomized smear, burning in the upper atmosphere. That was not the death she would choose for herself, for all that it would have been quick and nearly painless. This though? It was in a way, or so Novus thought as the Jedi readjusted his aim and fired. She had never been shot before. The kinetic and mechanical effect was stronger than the pain, at first. Novus staggered heavily into the wall on her left and held on with both hands. Slowly, she slipped clumsily to one knee. The other would not support her weight. A curious cold-hot sensation radiated up and down the right side of her body, expanding into a choking agony on the inhale. Her concentration fizzled and popped, a burnt sugar taste on the back of her dry tongue. Consciousness threatened to go with it, quite insistently. She hoped to have bought Vance enough time.

[Rugs]

Darth Novus crumpled, first to one knee, then to the ground as consciousness failed her.

Locke’s pistol trembled in his hand, a thin wisp of smoke curling from the still-hot end of the barrel. A part of him had expected, as he pulled the trigger, to feel some glee, some rush of victory in finally downing his greatest nemesis since that Trandoshan, Tekt, that murdered his parents on Nar Shaddaa. It would only be natural, Jedi teachings be damned. She’d bested him, cut him, concussed him, tortured him, kidnapped his student...

So why not bask in a victory? This was a win, wasn’t it?

Locke sighed. He didn’t feel any of that. Just a weary thankfulness that the whole affair was over.

He holstered his gun and went to stand over her. “Maybe it’s because you’re not awake,” he muttered. Was that for himself, or her? He didn’t really know. A part of him did enjoy the banter, aggravating as it could be at times.

After checking her for any weapons and slipping some cuffs around her wrists, he scooped her off the walkway and onto his shoulder. His knee, still sore from her kick, protested at the added weight, but he pushed through it.

Once down in the parking lot, Locke carried her to an ambulance. Some other officers in the area were searching for Vance, but hadn’t found him. Locke hoped they would, but couldn’t concern himself with Vance just yet. With Novus captured, he had a lot of matters to tend to.

But first, they had to make sure her wounds wouldn’t kill her.

And then, Locke was going to take a goddamned shower.

---

“We’ll let you know when we’re done examining her, sir.” The doctor’s brown eyes were hard, uncompromising.

Locke frowned. “Fine, sorry to intrude,” he said. “Could you at least give her this?” He produced a folded slip of paper, held shut with some tape, and pushed it into the doctor’s hand.

Hi N!

Fancy meeting you here! You know, I thought you’d run off into the night, but I’m so glad you waited for me. It really meant a lot to me.

Too bad about what happened. Really hoped things could’ve gone better, but hey, I guess they could’ve gone worse, too. Don’t worry, the doc here is real good. You’ll get patched up and be back on your feet in no time. And I’ll be there, waiting for you.

See ya soon!
-L

“And don’t you even think about opening it,” he said, grinning wryly. “It’s not for you.”

---

The Enduring Triumph was the closest Republic cruiser to Alderaan when the distress signal went out. The ship was a few days later than Locke would have liked, but better late than never. Of course, he would have preferred to watch it from the ground, but a commander had summoned him to the bridge to give a debriefing of the attack at the Palazzo di Luce and subsequent manhunt in Aldera.

With that done, Locke was walking back toward the ship’s hangar, where a shuttle would carry him back to the surface. Then he’d oversee Novus’ transfer from hospital to ship and on to Coruscant.

His fingers felt grasped at note folded in his pocket. The note from the diner down on the surface. He’d nearly thrown the thing away, but couldn’t quite bring himself to. He was fond of it, strangely. Maybe it just reminded him of the successful operation.

Smoochies, he thought, smiling to himself. Locke stopped by a viewport and took in the view. Alderaan stretched out below, curving away from the Enduring Triumph, with the black of space stretching infinitely beyond.

His comm buzzed suddenly. He glanced at it. A message from Jazen.

Locke’s smile quickly faded. His attention seemed to split between several words as his head spun.

Novus.

Escaped from the hospital.