Hotsprings, massages, & hostage situations!

[Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice*]

Strae walked the poor, cringing man over to the couch and made him sit down, "So, about the deal,"

She didn't get to finish, looking up at the ceiling as the intercom went off. Weird, she couldn't see any speakers, yet it came out. She looked at a vent, and discovered that's where the noise was coming from. Speakers placed in the ventilation shafts. She smirked. Clever way to do it, "Emergency?" Strae asked, "Not likely that we'd be asked to put our weapons down."

"I've never heard about any emergency proceedure like this..." The unidentified bell hop reported, "Sounds...Funny. We usually encourage occupants to remain in their rooms while security roots out the problem. Gathering people in a lobby seems more of a...Hostage gathering technique."

"A trap, then." Strae replied, "Any ideas on what's going on?"

"Not really."

Strae sighed, "Zelda. I believe you brought two weapons. Might I borrow one? This knife won't help much if we wind up having a gun-fight."

"What about me, don't I get a weapon."

"Shut-up."

[Kella]

Grizzelda sighed heavily. "I was just in the lobby. Y'know, it used to be that excitement would come find me. Now I have to chase it down." Grizzelda tossed her hands up in the air, before hauling herself to her feet. "Perish the thought, I just might be getting old." Grizzelda's eyes twinkled with an amused expression. She knew she'd never grow too old for this line of work. She doubted she'd be retiring any time soon. And it turned out, the slowed aging process of the Force-Sensitive came in quite handy.

In one quick and fluid motion, Grizzelda slid her blaster from its holster and offered the weapon, grip-first, to Strae. "Just be careful, that safety's quite loose. You'll find this blaster to be particularly efficient. The Arkanians know their trade well. Treat it well." With an emphatic nod, Grizzelda handed the weapon off, and again returned to her bag.

The Shatter Gun felt and gripped like a Blaster Pistol, but it handled quite differently. For one, it was near-silent. Magnets lined the slender barrel, primed to fire a metal projectile at super-sonic speeds, a miniature version of a rail gun. The projectile was small, nigh on impossible to dodge, and did an amazing amount of kinetic damage. Energy shields and light armor were similarly, which is to say completely, vulnerable to the shot. It was a choice weapon of assassins; a sure-kill, and a silent muzzle. One couldn't ask for a better weapon. They were, however, extremely rare. That was no hindrance to Grizzelda, however. Her hobby was exotic weapons, and she had... connections. The other drawback, one that didn't hinder hit-and-fly assassins, was the 8 round capacity. Grizzelda had another clip, but sixteen rounds might not be enough. That, and you don't aim a Verpine Shatter Gun unless you plan to kill. There is no stun setting. There is no indecision. Considering the unpredictability of what lay ahead, Grizzelda would have preferred a blaster. However, a Shatter Gun did too much damage to be put into the hands of anybody but the most experienced marksman. In any event, it would only take one cocky Gunman, and she'd have her blaster.

All these familiar thoughts flickered through her mind as Grizzelda loaded and primed the gun. She did not holster it, however. They were all damned if they thought they could gun her down, whether they were targeting armed Civs or not. There was nothing that could have convinced Grizzelda to leave her weapon behind, at this point. She turned her attention back to Strae.

"Now, what're we waiting for? I'm sure this fifth-wheel can handle himself." Grizzelda gestured nonchalantly with her Shatter gun, the barrel swinging toward him for a moment. The safety was on, but he probably wouldn't know that. She hoped it made him cringe. She was probably having more fun than proper with this...

Regardless of Strae's response, Grizzelda set off toward the door. Jungles and Crime Lords were all good and fun, but it had been far too long since her adrenaline had really been flowing. There was nothing in the world like high stakes and a blaster at your side. An old adage slipped into Grizz's mind. "If you live by the blaster, you die by the blaster." And y'know, that sounded just like the way Grizz wanted to go.

She stepped out into the hall and began to stride toward the Lobby, as if she was simply on her way to the Cafe. She knew Strae would not be far behind...

[Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice*]

There was nothing in the world like high stakes and a blaster at your side.

( ...
GAMBLER!
Told you so. ^_^ )




Strae wasn't far behind, in fact, she made damn sure she was directly behind. When she walked into the hall she looked carefully to both sides, the first thing she saw, something Grizzelda couldn't possibly see, looking in the wrong direction, was a camera looking right at them. A moment later, a panel in the ceiling slid open, and a blaster turret popped out, aiming right at them. Strae kicked her foot out at the man who was now coming out of their room, knocking him back in. Then she dove into Grizzelda, knocking her out of the line of fire, and into a small crevice along the wall, where a small table and vase with a nice plant stood.

Their bodies collided with the vase and table, knocking both over, and shattering the vase. The turret had opened fire, sending a quick stream of blasts down the hall. Strae chortled for a moment, "I believe they have control of the security systems. I was going to say something regarding that before you left."

She stood up, and put her back to the wall, glancing around the corner at the turret, then quickly bringing her head back to the safety of their little depression. "Now would be a great time to have those EMP's..." She muttered, "But since we're empty on those, got any ideas?"

~*~

Ven Alstra smirked. All according to plan. She was comfortable in her little niche, all alone. She'd followed Jenim's plan to the letter. However, what he didn't know, is that she had an alternative agenda. She turned around and looked over at the 'guard' whose neck she'd snapped.

It wasn't a guard at all, and she'd not killed him. It was her secondary employer. Artemis Entreri, he stood, watching in approval. "Just like I told you." He said, and there was a dangerous flash in his expression, almost like an afterthought that screamed, 'if you fail you die.'

Ven just shot a cocky grin. Fail? Her? Sacrilege. She'd do just as instructed. Although, the instructions were quite odd. She kept the turret aimed, but knew she was not to kill these two. No...Just send them a message of sorts...

[Zabasaz Volgarius]

A security officer screamed pain at the sensation of his hand being dipped into molten carbonite. The red bar of Zabasaz's lightsaber sliced through his wrist and sent his hand flying, the blaster that was now kept tightly in its rigor mortis grip safely inoperable. Zabasaz continued on towards the other personnel who were staging a weak hold-out in this sector of the complex. His orders weren't to go on a killing spree, so he only incapacitated his foes. The now one-handed man gripped his smoking stump in pain, his scream silencing as his strained throat lost the ability to utter any more horrified lamentations. A hail of blaster fire the sound of fleeing troops were the ambiance of his assault, and all the blaster bolts were batted aside by his vicious Form III expertise. These amateurs hadn't the skill with a blaster to threaten him, and in fact very few individuals he had encountered ever did. It was easy for him to march up to their hold-out and relieve them of their weapons in the fashion that was the most reliable.

Like a dance of death made florid by a red strip of humming light, each step Zabasaz made was a component to an attack or a deflection. He brought his saber down, deflecting a bolt and relieving a verdant gunman of both of his hands simultaneously, then whipped the saber back up to knock aside another two incoming bolts of blaster fire. He seemed an unstoppable juggernaut to these people, and it was by stroke of fortune he could not slay them. Jenim had to identify and capture certain targets, so it was imperative that he leave as many alive as was possible. It'd be a shame if after all this, they didn't confirm and have some fun with their quarry. Zabasaz couldn't care less - he had been paid half and gotten a free stay at a luxurious resort, and he was promised passage off-planet to Farrfin after this was all over and his pay was dispensed. As dark as the deed was, Zabasaz did what was needed to survive, and this type of thing is what he was best at. It was a stroke of fortune he managed to even find this lot.

With a final flourishing swing of his lightsaber a blaster bolt stroke a man dead in the wrist, sending the hand into painful convulsions and making him drop his pistol. With that, all personnel in the hold-out vicinity were dispatched. Jenim's squad came pouring in, capturing and hoisting away Zabasaz's groaning stream of victims.

"Well done, Zabrak, perhaps I am not regretting your inclusion to this operation. Now then, we need to find our mark, so if you would."

Jenim ordered the troops forward and they continued towards the suites, their path clear of inconvenient hostilities.

---

"This way, I heard turret fire."

The cluster of thugs, or mercenaries as they preferred, poured down the corridor until they reached the corner. There, they saw an open suite door, the burn marks of a hail of turret fire, and the offending turret itself.

For a moment the lead scout paused, pondering what had happened here. The turret obviously missed, so either this was error on the part of Ven Alstra, or error on the part of Ven Alstra. The real question was which error - a miss, or a mis-fire?

His question was answered when for a brief moment he observed a head popping out from cover in the depression of the corridor. It quickly retreated back into concealment, but he knew what he was.

"Over there, I saw one."

In unison the squad, currently made up of about nine or ten bodies all carrying stun-set carbines, warily but swiftly bore down on the target.

[Kella]

ooc// Ha! That's what I want you to think! Mua ha ha... you shall all succumb to the ebilness of my plan...
... that is, if I had a plan. O.o hm. //


Grizzelda's shoulder pressed hard into the metal. She seemed unshaken by the sudden relocation.

"Well, that's an interesting development." She listened to the turret for a moment... it was of moderate size, no doubt with the potential to be deadly. The smell of Ozone sparked in Grizzelda's nose, and she could guess the turret was set on 'stun', but she was not precisely sure... In any event, they needed to get rid of that turret...

"Yes indeed, EMP's would be handy. But improvisation is much, much more fun, wouldn't you say?"

Grizzelda winked at Strae, then suddenly dashed from the hiding place, tucking into a sudden side-ways roll, then coming up again. The turret began to swivel and track her actions, but it was far too slow. All it took was a simple twitch of Grizzelda's trigger-hand, and the magni-rail system was set into motion. The slight kick-back was familiar, the gentle vibration under her palm. Not even a whole second could be counted before sparks flared from the turret; the inner assembly crushed by a high-speed physical projectile. Eat that.

And that's when Grizzelda noticed a somewhat more important set of circumstances. A down-fall to improvisation. She was in full view of a group of men, armed to the teeth and bearing exo-skeletons like insects. She knew that type any-day. Mercenaries. A quick head-count revealed there to be ten. And Grizzelda had only seven shots remaining, before she'd have to reload. She was even more outnumbered than usual.

The mercenaries were staring directly at her. Well, this was new. Grizzelda usually didn't end up falling right on top of trouble. She supposed this was just one of those days. In any event, this called for more improvisation.

"Hallo, there. If you point your blaster at me, I kill you. Simple as that. Any volunteers?"

Grizzelda's tone was, as ever, nonchalant. She might as well have been discussing the latest trends of the stock-market. Even so, she figured the Mercenaries would find the whole situation quite funny. A single, unarmored gunman, against 10 trained mercenaries? A female, at that. They probably figured she posed no threat. And that would work to Grizzelda's advantage. Her reason for using the first-person-singular was simple; she was giving Strae options. There was a good chance that they'd figure Grizzelda to be the only one around, at which point Strae might have the change to catch them by surprise. Or she could flee and leave Grizzelda to become Swiss Cheese. That was another possibility, and one that seemed extremely in-character. It didn't bother Grizzelda, however, she was confident in her good standing. Even as she considered this, Grizzelda began to clear her mind. At least, as much as was possible. She listened intently, just barely feeling the whisper of the Force... she was confident that nobody was approaching from behind. She could devote her full attention to the mercs ahead.

Though she had basically threatened to kill whatever moved, Grizzelda did not raise her weapon. It remained in a relaxed grip, hand near her hip. This seeming apathy might seem odd to the mercenaries... and that was the idea. She wanted to throw them off, to make them second-guess themselves. That would give her the opportunity to do what she needed to do...

[Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice*]

( I'm going to temp. control this band of mercs for the sake of posting, Zab. And I'll also be taking control of a couple others later on, but I think I'll wait a few more posts. )

Strae pressed against the opposite side of the niche now, interested in this new development. Figuring the mercenaries had seen her look at the turret, she knew she was screwed. While Grizzelda did her best to make it appear as though she was the only one there, there was one crucial mistake here.

Strae had bright blonde hair, whoever had seen her knew that. Which meant there was a fair probability that they'd notice the stark difference. She looked at the 'table' that had held the vase. It was about half her height, and not too heavy...It wasn't leaning too far out, so if she picked it up, the mercs wouldn't realize it.

Strae didn't quite know how many there were, but quick and fast action was definitely a requirement. She picked up the table thing and held it close to her by the base. The mercenaries were close, she could hear. And Mercs weren't the kind to be easily intimidated. Her guess? If she didn't do anything, the Mercenaries would fill her full of holes in a few seconds. Granted, tehy did have a *few* seconds. She spun around the corner, swinging the table thing heavily, and letting go, sending it tossing overhead at the mercs.

The first two mercs actually ducked, allowing it to go overhead, and slam into the next merc behind them, he fell back into the others, blocking fire from further back in the chaos.

Strae pulled out the arkanian blaster and tested just how good it was. She shot her blaster almost point blank into the first mercenary. The other strated aiming his carbine at her. As the first one fell, Strae moved her body in a quick roll, her free hand reaching into the folds of a hidden pocket and extracting her knife, as her roll finished it slammed her hips gracefully into the gun, pushing it aside. Before the merc could resort to melee, Strae's knife was stuck into his neck. She activated the vibro-function, and pulled it out, along with a good section of neck and armor, the vibrations cutting through like a knife through butter and giving Strae the luxury of a quick extraction. She deactivated it, tucked it away, and ran all in one fluid motion.

Her form went right past Grizzelda's, "WE should run Zelda, dear!" She mentioned, as she passed by the doorway to her room, she saw the ships dealer and motioned for him to follow. He jumped out of the room and into the hall, and both of the two booked it down the hallway...

They'd only be given a few precious moments before the chaos and confusion was over, and carbine shots followed their trails.

[Zabasaz Volgarius]

For a moment the mercenaries were left unsure of what had happened. The two in the front reacted foolishly, ducking the table when they were easily strong enough to bat it aside or blow it away in midair. It was hard to find good gunmen these days, but the fallen Twi'lek and Duros were expendable. What really mattered was the leadership. The first shot, almost point blank, incinerated a large chunk of the Duros' chest right through his combat tunic. When his point companion tried to interfere, he ended up tasting the metallic taste of blood, or was it the knife? Either way, his lekku twitched violently as his body hit the ground, dying moments later.

Before the mercenaries could gather what had happened, the two were already making some distance. Such a useless bunch to simply be overcome by a flying table, but that was the extent of a goon's abilities these days now wasn't it. They did not immediately pursue, however. The call of their squad leader caused them to desist. The befuddled team parted and the human Dorman Jerzyck passed through them, looking mighty thrilled.

"Ah, yeah." He raised his commlink to his lips and spoke. "Jenim. I've got 'em."

He then put a fresh cigar in between his lips, unholstering his slugthrower rifle and loading it. He would remove the safety, except no gun Dorman owned possessed a safety feature. He turned, looking to his squad. "Take a hike. These kids are mine."

Then, setting his gaze forward again, he freed one of his hands from the rifle and withdrew a lighter from his pocket. It was an old lighter, run by a spark and electrical pulse. Setting it in front of his cigar, he lit it and took his first puff. Always his favorite. Depositing the lighter back into his pocket, he cocked the rifle once.

"Let the hunt begin."

And with that, he took off in an excited run after them.

[sparrow]

(( Sorry sorry... I haven't been terribly active these past few days due to a few RL issues. I guess it's good that my char isn't exactly involved in the main action yet... ))

For everyone's safety leave behind all blasters and gather in the lobby... ... Seriously? Zarene could not help chuckle with amusement when that message came over the intercom. She knew that the resort did not allow its patrons to carry weapons (at least not officially), and so it didn't exactly take a genius to quickly deduce that the message must've come from someone not affiliated with the resort. Taking that line of logic a bit further meant that the place must have been taken over by hostile forces, as the resort staff weren't going to let anybody just walk in and make that sort of announcement.

From her room, she could hear the sounds of frantic footsteps in the hallways, followed later by the sounds of weapon fire. Zarene stood up, adjusted her coat, checked the holster at her waist. Things here were getting violent, and it was time for her to leave.

Opening the door, she stepped into the hallway.

[Kella]

Grizzelda watched with amusement as Strae leapt from her hiding place, throwing the vase-stand into the first row of mercenaries.

She could work with that.

Now, let hit never be said that Grizzelda relished extinguishing life. She had a strict code of justice, though it was not always apparent. The innocent, she would not touch. That particular system was built around one main qualifier.

If they have a blaster, and they're shooting at you, they're guilty.

Most times, just the intent was enough. One raised his blaster. And so he died. He had a distinctly cocky air, and his armor shimmered like a beetle's shell. Blaster resistant weave was apparently the source of his confidence. Too bad it would do him no good. Grizzelda raised her gun-hand lighting fast, flicking the trigger with almost careless quickness. Again she felt the whisper of kick-back, the familiar thrum. Then a fast, clack, fwick, click as another round advanced into the barrel. Even before the gun had clicked, that small metal projectile had ripped through armor, cloth, skin, bone. Something finally made it through that thick skull of his. Unfortunately, that something wasn't common sense.

He had yet to hit the ground when Grizzelda felled another Mercenary, a Verpine hefting two heavy blasters. Perfect.

Grizz might have downed another, but now blaster bolts were licking past her shoulders, and she ducked and rolled, moving quickly. Three things needed to be done. First, she needed to holster her Shatter Gun. Second, she needed to fetch both heavy blasters. And third, she needed to disarm the man the former two would place her right in front of. Could it be done? A quick calculation later assured Grizzelda that she'd meet with success.

She came out of the roll, standing up quickly, holstering her Shatter Gun as a biting bolt grazed her skin. She didn't even wince; it was far too familiar an injury. With her next movement, she planted her left foot, solidly shifting all her weight to the left as she brought her right-leg up into a spinning kick, moving clockwise. Her hip was a fulcrum, and as her right leg rose into the air, she dropped her torso. Her foot connected with the Merc's blaster rifle, and with a substantial thwack! it fell to the ground. Grizzelda reached toward the ground and snatched the heavy blasters from the dead fingers of the second merc she'd felled. She then tucked her right shoulder, shifting her weight to smoothly connect with the ground, making a sharp, diagonal roll away from the mercs. The maneuver was unpredictable and unorthodox, a hit-grab-run, and Grizzelda managed to evade all shots, save for a lucky one that grazed her calf. Again, it was easily ignored. Grizzelda rolled to her feet, thoughts Echoing Strae's words. Still, she found it in her to feign disappointment.

"Aw, It was just getting fun."

Grizzelda immediately broke into a sprint, and by the time they rounded a sharp corner, she had caught up with Strae and the Dealer. They ran for several more yards, Grizzelda listening intently for signs of pursuit... there were none. She slowed, hoping Strae would follow suit, and listed again... still nothing. There was no way anyone could be following them at this pace, silently. Of that Grizzelda was confident. However, the Turrets would still pose a problem... Grizzelda gestured to another room, one whose door was agape. Ducking inside, knowing the resort would have been gutted to the bones for putting turrets in rooms - even hidden ones - Grizzelda paused to catch her breath. A cleaning cart, discarded as its owner fled, revealed the reason for the open door. Grizzelda's chest rose and fell heavily, but she was not so out of shape that she couldn't take a bit of a sprint.

"They haven't elected to follow us. Which I find more worrisome than comforting..." Grizzelda reached out with her senses, trying to see if she was missing something. "And currently, we're in a technical dead end. Think Fast. Game plan? Or are we just gonna go out there and shoot like Armageddon?"

Grizzelda's demeanor would imply that she really had no preference either way. In fact, the whole running-for-her-life, making-possibly-fatal-decisions, trying-not-to-get-stuck-in-a-dead-end thing didn't seem to be bothering her at all. Quite the opposite. She seemed to be enjoying herself. It was almost as if she'd done the very same thing a thousand times before. And perhaps that wasn't so far from the truth.

"In any event," she continued, "We need to find a terminal. I'll see if I can't get a look at the holo-cam feed, or even just judge if the intruders have fiddled with the security system. Valuable information." In the end, it was all about the info. Grizzelda cocked a half-smile at this thought, and her now brown-flushed eyes began to flick around the room, looking for any sort of terminal, even a Room Service interface, while her hands quickly grew used to the feel of the heavy blasters she twirled in each hand.

[Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice*]

"Maintenance corridors." The dealer replied, almost as if it were an obvious thing. "Just out in the halls. Occasionally one of the room doors leads to a service corridor entrance, at least a few on each level. Let's us move easily though the rooms. No cameras. Hard to recognize."

Strae nodded, "Good. Have an entrance key?"

"Of course."

"Alright, then we proceed with caution. Guns blazing may be your style Zelda, but I personally prefer stealth methods. Hit and run, disappear, hit again, to be specific. The first thing we need to do is cut the power. No electricity, no turrets. Right?" She asked.

"Well, yeah." The Dealer replied, "But it isn't so simple. This place has generators everywhere. Our best chance at taking those turrets would be to get to the main security control room..."

Strae mumbled her agreement, poking her head out the door to make sure nobody was down the hall, she turned back after a moment and said, "There has to be some way to get control of the turrets. Think."

He started craning his neck, trying desperately to think.

"Wait! The terminal at the security office. The turrets have an override there. Emergency lockdown, real hard password to code, high grade terminal, hard to slice. Luckily, I know the pass. Get me there, and I can activate the turret lockdown."

~*~

Artemis stood, arms behind his back, linked together by the fingers, his legs spaced evenly, and his back straight, staring at the various screens. He observed the group fleeing, "Better report on where they went." He replied, "Lest they get suspicious."

Ven smirked, pressing a button to activate her earpiece, "Dorman...A small band, pretty deadly as it appears...They turned into room 3028. Seem to be holding out."

After the earpiece stopped transmitting, she grunted, "He'll kill them all you know."

"I doubt that..." Artemis replied in turn, a slight smile cracking his lips. "I should hope to view this. It will be interesting. Don't interfere anymore."

"What if he asks more directions?"

"Communications failure."

[Zabasaz Volgarius]

For the most part, Zabasaz had made short work of the majority of the opposition. The mercenaries were not without credit, but Zabasaz was worth the most. He had blown open two security lockdown apertures, much to the dismay of those hiding therein. No stone went overturned. As he passed every room, his senses intruded upon these sanctums searching for a pulse; a breath; Anything to indicate life, and of course the servos of a droid grinding.

"Two in there," he would say with a languid gesture. "One in there, the closet." He was surprisingly precise for someone who works on a vast and brutish scale. Though somewhere in the depths of his soul he felt as though there was something more worthy of his attention taking place within the resort. He didn't expect to find anything spectacular in this whole trip other than a surprisingly easy pay check and a flight to Farrfin. Perhaps there was a Force sensitive somewhere?

"Do not kill them, Dorman. I'm warning you. You're to take them down, but don't kill them," said Jenim with a small inflection in his voice Zabasaz recognized as sounding frantic. He didn't turn his helmeted head to look, but simply listened closely. This interested him, at least slightly, for Jenim's arrogant confidence (in the comparatively short time Zabasaz had known him) had never once wavered until now.

"Sithspit, Dorman found them first. We better get a lock on them as post haste or he'll kill them. That crazy son of a bitch, I knew bringing him to this one was a bad idea. The man's a psychopath."

Zabasaz took one step and Jenim's head snapped to look directly at the back of his head. "Zabrak, you need to get to them first and make sure Dorman doesn't take them down."

While Jenim perhaps suggested that Zabasaz should prevent Dorman from killing whoever it was they were looking for, Zabasaz interpreted this as permission to eliminate Dorman should he prove too overcome with bloodlust.

"If you fail, you're not getting your pay or a flight off-system. You'll take the dive for this whole thing."

"Enough."

Zabasaz's metal-shelled cranium turned to face Jenim, gazing right into his face through the orange glowing bar that was his visor. Then, without another word, he punctuated his five second stare of silence with a flourishing turn and stepped down the corridor with swiftness that could possibly be interpreted as accelerating anger. Oh, he would stop that Dorman scumbag alright. In fact, Zabasaz had every intention to crush the bloodthirsty human like an insect before taking the dive for this ordeal. Deep down he felt as though this was the inevitable ending no matter what he did, but to try is the only way to succeed. He didn't even know where to find what he was looking for, let lone who exactly Jenim's targets were, but the Force guided him along nonetheless.

---

"Come out, come out, wherever you are."

Dorman puffed away at his cigar, proceeding down the hall with a shortage of subtlety. He passed suite after suite, feeling somewhat guilty to be 'cheating,' but Ven gave him the room number and now it was too late to ignore it. He eyed each door, examining the number as he passed.

3021.

His slugthrower was a high-class, custom-made heavy carbine. It was reminiscent of a Czerka Arms Aug2 hunting rifle, though it was definitely something far beyond a simple recreational weapon. With an effective range of two-hundred twenty meters and capable of firing .405 cartridges. One shot from this gun could blow a head, arm, or leg entirely off. There was no personal armor in the galaxy that could stop a direct shot from his gun, and energy shields were a whole other bag of problems altogether. The point was, he was well-equipped and trained with his preferred firearm.

3023.

Dorman also wore a thick ballistic vest. Though somewhat ineffective against blaster fire, it was the ideal defense against shrapnel and slugs, which he viewed as a superior threat to blaster fire. Of course, the vest didn't see much use with Dorman always being the predator and never the prey.

3025.

And there it was. He approached the door quietly, listening for any commotion inside. He was careful not to align himself with the aperture, for fear of being shot through the door if one of them was keeping vigilant. Within he could hear the low muttering of a conversation, so there was no doubt that Ven Alstra had been correct and that they were holding out. He wasn't going to burst in on a hold out, after seeing what this group did to his squad. They had at least some brains in their skulls, but it didn't imply much. Those lackeys were foolish - to have hesitated in firing, and then been defeated by a thrown table and some pathetic martial arts bullcrap, they got their just deserves if anything. Such trickery would not work against Dorman Jerzyck. He had his prey cornered, though he regretted missing the chance to chase them through the resort. Hold-outs were so boring and easy to deal with.

"Room service!"

Dorman's yell was immediately followed by the din issued by his loud slugthrower. The metallic door was pierced open by the round that came in at an angle unlikely to hit anyone unless they were near the door, due to him firing from a safe angle. The gaping hole left by it was just wide enough for a small metal sphere to fly in and ricochet off the wall.

An incendiary grenade.

Inches after it bounded off the wall, it burst, issuing a huge burst of napalm. Dorman had opted not to use a thermal detonator, for there was no way his quarry would survive then. It wasn't that his orders were to incapacitate them, but rather that he wanted to test them. If they had any reflexes and wit about them, they could narrowly survive, or so he figured.

Prey worth the hunt, if so.

Immediately after tossing the explosive, he took off away from the door to find a safe vantage point so he could watch what they'd do next, if they could even survive. Since there were no intersections, the best place to take cover would be in a nearby room. The adjacent room and the closest to him when he fled from 3028's door was 3026. Immediately he struck the door panel with his rifle's stock, causing to spark violently and the door to malfunction, sliding open to allow passage.

---

Zabasaz stopped in the center of an intersection. The reason was that he found several wounded and a few killed fellow mercenaries. One of them had a knife wound, and the others had a colorful assortment of their own injuries. Interesting, some talented opposition. He checked all of the nearby corridors briefly and his HUD registered no life forms or movement. Then, suddenly his interface went red as the sound of a firearm, obviously a kinetic-type weapon, issued from the hallway the bodies were assorted in. It was distant, but he could tell almost exactly where it came from with his trained Iridonian senses.

Stepping over his fallen comrades, he felt that he was drawing close.

[Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice*]

The moment she heard the slugger go off, Strae was dashing, she didn't wait for the grenade. It was a common tactic for any brutish group, commonly known as a 'door breach', which was usually followed by a grenade. And of course, she was right. As she heard the clangs behind her, Strae was already running across the large suite. She found the 'kitchen' area and lifted herself over the counter, taking cover behind it. She gave no second thoughts to her partners or anything, just ran for cover.

The dealer had a bit of a less fortunate run, he didn't react until he saw the grenade, and then took off diving as afar as possible.

As the explosion reigned throughout the room, he was caught by the high fires, but lucky enough not to be killed instantly. Strae was entirely unharmed, and she checked her Arkadian blaster to make sure all was in order. It was she rose from her cover and fired at the door, which was now slightly wrenched apart by the powerful kinetic energies. Her aim was fair enough, and since the hole had widened both of her shots made it straight through the door. She couldn't see through the smoke well enough to know if there was anything on the other side, but if there was, it wasn't going to be happy. She lowered herself into a half crouch, that only her eyes were peering over the counter top, and she also grabbed a cleaning rag from the counter, draping it across her hair. This way, if anyone peered through the door, it wouldn't make her a shining target with her bright blonde hair.

"Is everyone alive?"

The dealer didn't move. He didn't do anything. He was either unconscious or dead. Or soon to be.

[sparrow]

Zarene quickly ducked back into her room as two armed women and an unarmed, rather shaken-looking man came dashing through the hallway, looking as if they were being chased, and turning into one of the rooms before reaching her. A few moments of silence, and then came the sound of heavy footsteps stomping through the hallway. The pursuer, no doubt. While Zarene was never one to run from a fight, she was trying to keep a low profile at the moment, so she crawled behind the couch in her room, settling into a relaxed crouch where she would not be visible from the door, with one hand resting on the small holdout blaster. Puny weapon, she thought. Wasn't much, but it was the only weapon she had on her.

A yell, followed by a shot. A heavy caliber slugthrower, judging from the sound. Zarene held her breath, trying to listen more slowly. Clink, clink, clink.... That sound was unmistakable, and Zarene felt the scar on her face tingle slightly as she suppressed an unpleasant memory. Grenade.

There was a loud thump outside, like someone striking the opposite wall with a blunt object, followed by the sound of a door sliding open. Yet whoever was out there decided not to go into the room they had just opened. Instead, the door to Zarene's room slid open a moment later, and a man stepped in. She mentally berated herself for not locking the door during her hasty retreat back into the room earlier.

Cautiously, Zarene peeked out from behind the couch for a look, but the man did not seem to notice her. His back was turned to her, most likely waiting for the explosion and ready to rush out and mop up the pieces afterwards. Problem was, Zarene was still intent on leaving the establishment, and this man was between her and her exit. She had been hoping to avoid doing any killing, but since it was in a room behind closed doors, who'd have to know?

The man wore a thick ballistic vest, and for not the first time today Zarene regretted not bringing her heavy blasters with her. Those would have pierced through his armor easily, but the best the holdout could probably do was leave a small black burn mark.

There were, however, other options open to her. Zarene happened to be a well trained Force user, and one of her strengths happened to be telekinesis, though not in the conventional sense of being able to lift and throw exceptional heavy objects. Her power level with that sort of thing was fairly average. What she was good at though was manipulating smaller objects with great precision. The man at the door still held his heavy slugthrower. His weapon had no safety and it only took a small but precise application of the Force to cause the trigger to depress and the gun to fire. Let him shoot himself in the foot or pull the gun from his hand in his moment of distraction, either one would work for her.

[Kella]

Grizzelda listened intently to the man speak of the security terminal. They might as well have had an inside man.

"We'll get you to that terminal. Once we've locked down the turrets, I'm sure we'll be able to extrude further information." Grizzelda grinned smugly, as if at the prospect of getting dirt on a cohort. Which, in fact, was very, very close to what she intended. "Now-- ..."

Even a she was going to start another sentence, the muscles in her neck stiffened. Grizzelda turned her head toward the door, a strange surge running down her spine. She knew that feeling.

"We're being watched..."

"Room Service!" called a voice, definitely male.

The next moment, a hole ripped through the door. A slugthrower. Not aimed to kill... which meant whatever followed would be quite nasty. Grizzelda twisted around a corner, away from the bottle-neck entrance of the room, where they'd been standing. She watched a spray of blazing fire flare from the hall, the angle just barely missing her. She could feel a shuddering wave of heat roll across her skin, coupled by a strange warping in the light. An incendiary grenade. Not for the first time, Grizzelda was very, very thankful for her faster-than-average reflexes. She watched Strae emerge from behind the counter, asking if everyone was alive.

"No. That chuff-sucking Sithspawn is already dead."

Grizzelda's tone was smooth as ever, and the explicatives rolled off her tongue with familiarity, hinting toward her underworld-Corellia upbringing.

She immediately began to prepare for her next move, hearing the crisp zing of blaster bolts as Strae fired at the attacker. The intruder would no doubt be coming after them. His moment of most vulnerability would be when he came through that bottle-neck hall. Rolling to the left or right would be impossible, as would jumping into the air. He could move forward and back, and that was all. Incidentally, Grizzelda's position just around the corner was perfect. She quirked her ears, listening intently. There was no way he could enter silently. Cutters made a searing whine, and a door that mangled would never slide back into the wall-cavity.

Grizzelda steeled her grip on the blasters in-hand. She'd not be able to aim as consistently, duel-wielding. However, the multitude of her shots would be greatly increased, and her off-hand accuracy still rivaled many marksman. She waited for the sound of him coming into the bottle-neck, waiting to make her move, while tossing a glance toward Strae. The other woman was equally ready.

This Sithspawn had no idea who he was dealing with...

[Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice*]

Strae seemed saddened at the loss, after moments pause she said, "I really didn't want to pay for those ships." She kept her ready stance, and looked at Grizzelda's position, nodding in approval. They were ready...

[Zabasaz Volgarius]

Dorman Jerzyck perched in the entry corridor of suite 3025, waiting for his quarry to walk into his trap.

He had shot the door panel to suite 3026, the adjacent suite, to make it appear as though he was taking it was his vantage point. He suspected based on the work done to his squad that these opponents would be rather skilled and therefore would have the courage to face him head on. It would be an enjoyable experience, but he was weighed down by impatience and disappointment when it became clear they intended to simply wait in their suite instead for him to come to them. As if Dorman were so foolish as to put himself in a position where he could not maneuver or take cover.

Dorman was armed with a full bandoleer of locked thermal detonators, incendiary grenades, and a remote-directed RPG. The last thing any foe of his could do was take up arms in an enclosed space and "wait him out." Not to mention each second that they delayed could (if this happened to be Dorman's intent) be a second for the rest of the squads to close in and outnumber them. Bored, Dorman considered what he could do. The best plan was to set a detonation charge on the door and blow it open, then bank a thermal detonator in and torch the whole room. He also considered simply hurling a flashbang in and charging while they were blind, deaf, and dizzy - it would give him the pleasure of putting the bullets between their eyes personally.

He'd have to decide what approach suited his interests best when he got to the point. Perhaps he would simply throw in a couple of timed detonators and let them flee out like it were a gassed Rori bug mound, then pick them off as they frantically filed out. So many choices, so little opposition.

Dorman was a trained operative and a war-oriented organism. He had Mandalorian roots, and while most of the mercenaries he was working with were green and good for little more than cannon fodder, he had experience that it was very much possible nobody else in this complex had. Thus, when the Force opposed the most prized aspect of his martial being: his grip on and control of his favorite firearm, it was predictable that he'd be extremely resilient to that particular influence of telekinesis. Better Jedi have tried to relieve him of his baby to no avail - what made this particular practitioner think she would make any difference?

Of course, it helped he had his fingers pressed against the back of the trigger to prevent accidental shots. If one kept an unsilenced, safety-lacking firearm, it only made sense to be used to (especially when waiting for a trap to be sprung) keeping the trigger well in place and under control. The influence of Zarene's telekinetics, especially considering she was hiding from him (and no Dark Jedi could manifest the full brunt of their power in a state of cowardice) was trivial and devoid of effect so much so that Dorman (perhaps to her advantage... or fortune) did not perceive any visible threat or attempt short of a foreboding sensation of tampering. Giving the room one last look over, he exited the suite and shut it behind him, going so far to even lock it just in case someone tried to sneak up on him. His true quarry could not be kept waiting while he investigated the ministrations of a stray cat.

---

Meanwhile, Zabasaz closed the gap. Ven Alstra and Artemis would see his dark form pass through her surveillance grid, the overwhelming power of his Force causing a brief crackle in the feed's quality.

In his hand, an unactivated lightsaber.

His intent, judgment.

[Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice*]

Strae, underequipped and unprepared for one of the first times in her adult life, cursed her luck. "We may want to move off to a different area, perhaps the master bedroom or bathroom. As it stands, he's shown he uses breach and superior tactics. Which means there's a good chance he has more of what he's used." While Strae was telling Grizzelda this, she moved over and out of her cover, into the open room, her steps was silent. She had made it loud and apparent of their plan. If this man was listening in, he would definitely hear what she said. But there's no possible way he could hear her silent footsteps as she approached the door.

Instead of doing in anything immediately, she stood a few foot to the side, against the wall, propped up silently, waiting. She was close enough that she'd hear him approaching, he didn't have the proper armor for any light footsteps. Strae, pulling out her earwig once more, turned it on. As well, with this, she'd be able to hear him pulling out any grenades. If he threw anything, she'd be more than ready to snatch it as it flew, return fire and toss the grenade back through the hole. As well, she'd also hear him setting any charge, or preparing, and she'd gun him down as he did so, or, pending on how he did it, retreat to a safe area for the blast.

Strae didn't like being outmaneuvered, but she wouldn't let this circumstance defeat her. She always had a third weapon on her, and that was her stealth, which was exceeding in almost any condition. While she had bad luck in this situation, a well lit building with few stealth probabilities. There was always a way, always something. She smirked now. A slight surprise advantage gained. She held tight to her blaster, closed her eyes, and did a quick prayer to nobody in particular. She had no faith, but that didn't mean she didn't believe in luck, and right now, she was practically begging for good luck.

~*~

And lo and beholde, ask and ye shall receive.

Artemis watched as the Dark Jedi marched down the hallway. "Bastard." He mumbled. "I was eager to watch their little exchange. Kill the neuissance..."

Ven looked at him crossly, "No can do. That's a Dark Jedi, and I'm not risking that he lives."

[Kella]

ooc// Thanks for waitin' on me. X) Yesterday was school orientation day, and consequentially, very, very busy. //

Grizzelda nodded silently to Strae. She greatly approved of the woman's bit of strategy. She's a sharp one, no doubt there. In the moment of silence, she flicked two switches, one on each blaster. Switches that no longer indicated 'stun, but 'kill'. She wasn't taking any chances with Slugthrowers, or incendiary grenades. If she got a clear shot, that man was dead. Simple as that.

Won't this be entertaining.

Her breath was steady, in and out, her heartbeat soft. She forced her mind to relax, to go into that place of peripheral awareness. Single, conscious thoughts no longer occupied her mind. Now she was operating on instinct, reflex. It was almost a sense of meditation, and it was only in these times that the Force began less of a whisper, and more of an actual entity. She was ready.

[Zabasaz Volgarius]

Zabasaz came up on an interesting find. Room 3026, its door panel had been damaged. Room 3028, its door had a shot in it obviously caused by a weapon with live, kinetic ammunition - a slugthrower, in other words. This was the sort weapon that Dorman Jerzyck would use, and in all likelihood that shot was made by him. Zabasaz wasn't particularly bright considering his other qualities (grand though they were, quantity wasn't a viable descriptor) so it never occurred to him how likely it would be for Dorman to utilize a tactic such as firing a round into a door, then tossing a grenade in the resulting hole. Thus, upon witnessing this wounded door (and never realizing it couldn't have opened correctly with the inward indentation of the hole) he immediately assumed that Dorman was on the other side, waiting to take a shot through his hole or perhaps preparing to execute his quarry.

While Zabasaz wasn't fast, he also wasn't hesitant. Immediately he thrust his hand out and wrenched the door from the aperture without even the slightest bit of difficulty. It flew into the door of the opposite suite, denting it inward and leaving the opening to 3028 completely bereft of any sort of barricade. The Iridonian was standing far enough from the suite (between 3026 and 3025) to not be visible through the hole unless someone was so daring as to peer directly through it and given the circumstances this was highly unlikely. Thus, he could not immediately see who was inside the suite, and before he could make a flit-line for it and find out, the racket caused Dorman to make his appearance.

Hearing the door to his left slide open, Zabasaz ignited his lightsaber and immediately enter the Form III mindset, and his choice was wisely made. Dorman, seeing it was his "comrade" only hesitated for a couple of seconds before mindlessly firing off shots at him. In this time Zabasaz was able to wrench the door he had pulled from 3028 in front of him with the Force. Two shots hit it, ripping through but their trajectories were off as a result and did no harm to Zabasaz. However it would be foolish to give the human a chance to make a third shot, so Zabasaz blasted the door at him with all of the telekinetic might he could muster. Dorman, who dove aside, was now in the deadly openness of hallway. Not eager to try and defend against a slugthrower, Zabasaz quickly lunged into Room 3026, not mindful of the danger of being cornered, and Dorman was left only a couple of feet from room 3025's entrance, at a corner in the nearest intersection. His eyes quickly turned to Room 3028.

[sparrow]

(( Sorry about the delay. Guess who also had school orientation? ))

She had been about to pull the trigger when she suddenly noticed the man had put his finger in the way of the trigger. That changed things a bit. She could still pull on the trigger, strong enough to break that last joint in his finger, but not strong enough to crush the finger into a bloody enough pulp to fire the gun.

Before she could change the gameplan however, he had already run out of the room. The strong dark side presence was much closer now, and Zarene could sense another being nearby. The sound of gunshots, igniting lightsabers, and breaking metal told her of the fight outside.

Given the events of the previous weeks, Zarene's original intentions at the resort had been to keep a low profile and avoid if at all possible doing anything that would make it on the next day's holonews. Considering how things were playing out, that was looking less and less likely. She sighed and stood up. Enough with the sneaking. Time to go the brute force route.

Making her way to the kitchenette, she gathered her supplies and assessed the situation. The man from before was outside, his back to the closed door. Another being, the source of the large dark side presence was outside as well. Two potential enemies outside, armed with slugthrower, detonators, lightsabers, and who knew what else, and her inside, with a holdout blaster and a pair of kitchen knives. Gotta love the odds...

The door slid open.