Hotsprings, massages, & hostage situations!

[sparrow]

(( Hope I'm not accidentally contradicting anything. ))


Two of the mercenaries saw Zarene as they came into the hallway. They didn't know it yet, but they were as good as dead. In a rather violent mood from having what was supposed to be a low-key, relaxing vacation ruined, Zarene was going to take her anger out on these two.

The first merc tried to raise his gun, only to find the weapon suddenly out of his control as it flipped around in his hand. Bang.

The second merc's face turned pale white as he saw what happened to his partner, and turned to run. Zarene raised her hand, and suddenly the merc was pulled backwards. Pulling the man within range, she grabbed his neck with her mechanical hand, and slammed his face into the wall, to the sound of crunching cartilage as his nose was broken. That was the list of his worries though as she tightened her grip around his neck. Steel fingers closed down, and... snap. The hallway was quiet.

Zarene smiled as she let the now limp body crumple to the ground. Well, that was refreshing. Bending down, she searched the two dead men for weapons. Unfortunately the pistols the two were armed with weren't much better than the hold-out she already had. That wouldn't do, so she turned to examine their discarded blaster rifles. She wasn't as comfortable with a rifle as with a pistol, but the extra stopping power of the larger weapon would be appreciated.

She was about to continue on her way when she paused. Blasters, unlike slugthrowers, didn't have much recoil, and this particular model wasn't that much heavier than the heavy pistols she was used to normally carrying. So she grabbed one of the pistols while holding the rifle with her mechanical hand. More guns, more fun. Score!

Now, back to the business of exiting the facility. The massive dark side presence could still be felt further down the hallway. Zarene wondered what the man was doing there but frankly she didn't particularly want to find out. She spotted an unlocked maintenance hallway, and headed in. Also, some of the security cameras in the hall had probably caught her on film, and she intended to go the security room and destroy as much as that evidence as she could before leaving.

Some distance down the hallway, she heard the tap-tap of someone typing at a computer terminal, and stopped. There was a tall (taller than her, which was rather unusual), short-haired woman typing away, a slicer with a certain degree of skill, given the fact that she was able to mess with the defense turrets and locks of the place. Zarene waited. After all, if someone was going to make getting around easier for her by turning off turrets and unlocking doors, then she wasn't going to stop them.

Finishing her task, the women left at a run. As the security room was most likely down the same path, Zarene followed at a distance.

[Kella]

Grizzelda stepped out into the hall, leaning against the wall, door still open behind her.

"Well, I guess we'll just have to find an Encore presentation, then. I can't let you have all the fun." She winked. "But I suppose it's up to me to do all the real work; Turrets down courtesy of yours truly, and I found a shortcut to that pesky security room." She eyed the Contact, expression quite smug. Grizzelda noted, with amusement, the great deal of blood splashed on both Strae and the Contact. Neither of them seemed to have been slashed, though, and so Grizzelda could only assume the blood belonged to a few unlucky mercs. Very unlucky mercs. Well, that Strae certainly isn't squeamish.

And then, Grizzelda, all her senses still primed, grew very, very still. She could feel a tingle on the back of her neck, like something wasn't quite right... She motioned Strae to be silent, regardless of what reply it cut off. And then she slowly pressed against the wall, turning toward the door her grip tightening on the Blaster in her left hand. It was still set on Stun... She peered into the dim hall, waiting for something to emerge...

She couldn't quite put a finger on what told her she was being followed, but Grizzelda trusted her gut. So often, the subconscious picked up on far more than the conscious... an improper pattern of echoes, a sound that should have ended but didn't, small things. Subtle things. Things that the Force perhaps augmented, however small that augmentation was... it gave Grizzelda the slightest edge, the slightest advantage...

She hardly breathed as she eyed the door. She would wait a few moments, decide if threat was immediate... and if it wasn't, she'd shut that door and blow out the panel. Then, at least, she wouldn't have to watch her back as they made their way to the Security room...

[Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice*]

( Sorry for not waiting a full cycle Sparrow, I got eager to make a post. XD )

Strae stopped admiring her handiwork and turned to Grizzelda as she spoke, smirking, quite satisfied in her newest allies slicing skill and use. Quite satisfied. Those turrest would have been a problem, but not anymore. Yay for for bad security planning. She was about to say something, when Grizzelda stiffened suddenly. She narrowed her eyes expecting the woman to fall forward with a knife in her back or something, and then Girzz's hand shot up in a silencing gesture.

Strae had crouched and gone into stealth mode the second Grizz had started acting up, though that wasn't to say she had ever really left stealth mode. She pulled out her blaster and checked it quickly, making sure the stun was off and ready. She didn't want to give whatever it was any chances, as usual. Strae thought for a moment that she should tell Grizzelda about the dangerous assassin that lurked somewhere within this building. She thought for a moment she should tell her ally many things that Strae already knew...For a moment. The next moment she thought it better to play this through differently, innocently.

She turned to the contact, to see that he was about to open his mouth and ask 'what is it?' Strae moved swiftly, clamping her hand silently around his mouth and waggling a finger in front of him. She reached to her ear and activated her device, attuning her hearing to maximum heights. She could hear every little breath that Grizz and the contact took, despite whether or not anyone was trying to take quite, even silent breaths. So close to the others, she could slightly hear the gentle beat of their hearts against their chests, a sound that got faster as excitement approached, especially for the greener contact, a high end ship salesmen who'd probably never even fired a blaster in his life.

In fact he hadn't. This whole situation was both exhilirating and terrifying to him. But while he'd never fired anything, he had been in situations in which his life had been threatened, and so unlike most of the staff, he was able to keep his bearings, wits, and some of his calm. He was also thankfully able to hide it, something Strae much appreciated.

Strae returned to her position crouched behind the couch, he Arkadian blaster pointed and ready.

[sparrow]

When following another person, one always had to exercise a certain degree of extra caution. Zarene had to be aware of the other woman at all times, keeping tabs on her position while remaining out of sight, so that if the one being followed suddenly turned around, she would see nothing but an empty hallway.

The woman slipped into a side room marked A36. The sound of conversation came from within the room. Someone else was in there. Apparently of the two women there, one of them was named Zelda, although Zarene couldn't ascertain for sure which one.

And then things got deathly quiet.

In her experience, there was only one really logical explanation for the sudden hush. One of the people in the room sensed danger, and from the current conditions, Zarene could only assume that that danger was her. How frustrating. Her entire day had consisted of people getting in between her and where she wanted to go. There was one solution: get them out of the way. And the easiest way to do that was with some violence. She pressed herself against the wall next to the doorway.

The door was still open, and Zarene could peer into one corner of the room. But whoever was in there had wisely positioned themselves so that from her position they would not be in her field of view. Clever, but there were ways around that sort of thing.

Taking out her second knife, she threw the blade towards that empty corner of the room. That wasn't the intended target though. Mid-flight, the spinning blade suddenly curved around like a boomerang, pulled onto its new path by an invisible force, flying towards the side of the room that she knew the two women would be.

(( Strae is protected by the couch.... But are Grizz and the salesman? ))

[Kella]

A flash of metal, the hiss of air being sliced. That shimmer of a thought in her mind, that tugging just behind her navel. There was no time for comprehensive thought, only that base and instinctual scream to duck. And so the muscles of Grizzelda's thighs snapped, letting her weight carry her forward and down, fingertips stretching toward the cold floor.

Ah!

The sharp pain suddenly drew itself along her shoulder, and everything was on fire! But then that initial spasm died, and Grizzelda could feel the hot blood begin to trickle across her collarbone, even as a thwig! rung behind her, the grunt of the knife as it buried itself blade-first in the wall.

Well Krith, that threw a wrench in her plan, now didn't it.

Immediately, her mind kicked into gear, as her thoughts sunk into the surreal. Grizzelda crammed the heavy blaster into the sash at her waist, left hand now free. She clapped it over her shoulder, jaw clenched as she twisted her shoulder around. The spasm of pain was almost unbearable, but she could still move it; that meant the blade hadn't sliced a tendon. However, it had definitely struck a larger blood vessel; as evidenced by the blood that had trickled down to the small of her back. Her hand provided much-needed pressure, though, and the blood did little to ooze around her fingers.

Three second had passed since the Knife had struck; three precious seconds. Grizzelda stayed low in a crouch, leaning her left shoulder against the wall and sliding along it as she moved quickly backwards, thigh muscles protesting loudly to the strained position. It was as she had suspected; Someone was following them, and that someone was not friendly.

And so Grizzelda did the first thing that came to mind: She raised her Shatter Gun and fired off a shot. It struck dead-center on the intended target; not flesh, nor bone, but the control panel for the door. An energy projectile would have burned it, seared it, shorted it out. But this physical projectile tore through the wiring, leaving gaps, spaces of air where once was high voltage. A huge cloud of sparks exploded from the console, a bright flash and a loud Sizzzzz! It would do little in the way of harm, but it would be a distraction. Grizzelda was ready to bolt, to race down the hall, to give in to the adrenaline that was pounding through her heart, numbing the pain of her shoulder, erupting in her lungs an incessant tingle. However, she was Reminded of Strae, and so Grizzelda stayed any further action; her chances of survival increased greatly if she and the Spy moved in sync. They were allies, after all.

And so Grizzelda flicked her vision to the side, just enough to catch Strae in the peripheral. Her right arm trembled ever so slightly as she fought to keep it leveled, fought to ignore the pain of her slashed skin. She readied herself for whatever-may-come, and another drop of crimson blood fell to the ground.

[sparrow]

The sound of breaking metal and a bright flash, the door was closing. Given its thickness, Zarene knew that once that door slid shut, it would take a considerable effort on her part to get it open again. Only one thing to do...

The Force flowed through her, and the next few seconds seemed to happen in slow motion. The muscles in her legs seemed to release all their power at once as her feet left the ground. Diving through the rapidly-closing opening, she twisted her body in midair to face the corner of the room where her targets would be. Her arms moved into her position and with them her guns, rifle in her right hand, pistol in the left. Fingers pressed down on the triggers. One. Two. Three pairs of deadly red energy bolts streaked towards the figures on the opposite side of the room.

Shoulder hitting the ground, she lost her grip on the rifle from the impact, the weapon coming loose from her grip and sliding across the floor as the rest of her body curled up in a somersault. She would come out of her roll with blaster at the ready, prepared to open fire on anything else that was going to offer resistance.

[Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice*]

( Ugh, short...Not very sweet. Might re-write in a few years. I'm just lazy today. )

The salesman cringed in fear, red bolt barely missing him in the tumultuous gunslinging moment. He was frozen in the middle of the room, terrified, but something triggered within him, screaming to find some form of cover. He did, diving down behind two heavily armored mercenary corpses and going prone.

Strae narrowed her eyes. Whoever they were fighting was skilled with fast action slinging and in the force, as shown by the knife twist and the scorching hole in the wall just a few inches from where the salesman had been. She whistled, impressed. Not many could aim that accurately in a sideways dive out of a mainentance hall...What's more, Strae quickly assessed that this one may be a civilian as well. Well, about as 'civilian' as Strae's side of the room was. Her mind dwelled on the dead bodies that lined this particular room, but not for long as she concocted a plan, "Wait!" She cried, "Don't shoot!" It was loud, loud enough to get to both sides, and it was a command for both sides, "I don't think she's merc. Neither are we! Hold your fire!"

Perhaps she could add a force user to her new retinue...

[sparrow]

Zarene heard a voice as she got back to her feet. The tall woman she had been following before was near the wall, pistol raised, and she pointed her own blaster back at her. The rifle that had fallen on the floor leaped up into the air and back into her metal hand. This weapon she pointed at the couch. Someone else was behind there, the one who had spoken.

Her mind raced, trying to access the situation. She wasn't in the best position. Individual abilities aside, there were two of them to her one (The screaming man didn't seem like much a threat, and was unarmed, so he didn't count). They had cover and she didn't.

Unlike the Jedi Order that she was once a part of, Zarene Yin wasn't a believer in the sanctity of life or any of those high-minded ideals. But she was a practical girl, and when the choice was to risk life and limb in a drawn-out firefight when safer alternatives that would achieve the same objectives were available, the correct decision was obvious. These people weren't on her kill list. She wasn't going to go out of her way or exert any special effort to see them defeated. They had just been in her way was all, though to be fair it had been her who was following them. Perhaps the other saw a mutually beneficial arrangement, and Zarene had to admit that the possibility was there. Having that tall short-haired woman ahead to slice through any doors and locks had been very useful, as it was a skill that Zarene lacked.

But she wasn't about to let her guard down. Her years as part of the Galactic fringe had drove home the point that people didn't always tell the truth, and were apt to strike at you if you were foolish enough to give them an opening to do so. So she kept her blasters raised, and maintained her hold on the Force, ready to fling aside that couch and start blasting at the slightest hint of bad faith.

First, time to find out what they wanted.

"I'm listening. Talk."

[Kella]

Grizzelda's gaze was not wary. It was not suspicious. It was neither nervous, nor harsh. She looked upon the somersaulting woman with the eyes of a Noblewoman, sizing up her competition at the ball. Respect in even measure with superiority, conceding a threat only so far as to smile smugly at the way in which it would be foiled. There were many ways in which Grizzelda's stature, her mindset, seemed completely out-of-sync with the current dire situation. And perhaps that was simply because she was right at home.

With every heartbeat, a bit more life-flow washed through the broken vessel. Perhaps it was the Force in her blood, or the sheer pluck of her determination, but soon her heartbeat had quieted, and the crimson stain stopped spreading. The wound would still need to be bandaged, but it was no longer an immediate threat.

She watched with bright, observant eyes, her ears quirking at Strae's voice. 'Don't shoot!', the Spy yelled, and Grizzelda got the impression that it was as much of an order to her as it was to the stranger. Time for a bit of negotiation, then?

Grizzelda did so love negotiation. Taking advantage of the moment of calm, she slowly stood, left hand still clamped upon her shoulder. Her spine straightened, and she reached her full six-foot-one. Her face was pale from the loss of blood, and the warm green and lilac tones of her vacation garb were light against her skin, except for where the crimson stained almost black. And so, the bright hazel-green of her eyes stood out all the more, in defined contrast with her dark, short hair. If she was forcing that trademark smug smile, it didn't show.

And even as words and thoughts danced around in her mind, she voiced none of these. Strae had called the Parlay, and so Strae would speak first. Grizzelda, being herself a persuasive talker, would chime in when the time was right. And if sudden violence deprived her this opportunity...

... her blaster was as swift as her tongue.

[Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice*]

Strae listened keenly, ignoring Grizzelda's movements and the movements and sounds that their third party was making. She hear, after a moment, the other saying, "I'm listening. Talk."

Strae tried putting her natural empathy to work. She could tell this person was obviously not one to truly treasure anothers life or to care for those that she held no connection to. More pragmatic. That was a good thing. At least she wasn't bloodthirsty, though she was as Strae, immune to death. She was also as cautious as Strae, seeming ready for anything. From the glimpse Strae caught she could tell this person had seem some action and was no rookie. Add to that obvious force connections, and Strae too wasn't trusty either.

There was a slight scowl. Always dangers in dealing with a fellow fringer. She turned her scowl into a smirk, then said, calmly, "I don't know about you but I just want to get the hell out of this whole mess and be on my way. Whether that means blasting through the front door or sneaking out. With just the two of us and the extra baggage it doesn't seem likely. You've skills with those blasters, I can tell, and many more convenient traits. We are no novices to battle ourselves and have stealth, technology, and various other skills..." Strae replied, grinning, "I'm sure you can do the math yourself and know the value of allies. We have a common foe, and so we can forge a common trust, can we not? I see no reason in needless bloodshed." Strae held her breath and hoped that her appeal to Zarene's pragmatic side had worked.

~*~

Further down a hall just to the right of the elevator room, away from both Zarene and Strae's group, a figure slowly crouched and moved forward, listening intensely. It was Dorman, and he was not at all happy. He'd finally managed to rouse his squad, and followed the noise of the recent blaster fire. He turned around the corner, far down the hall from the others, far from detection, and held a hand, getting ready to signal a march forward. He wanted to stall for just the right time, then have his men storm in. The more time he could buy them in the dash across the hall the more would survive. And there Dorman would be in the back, ready to go into the weakened or tired enemies after his fodder and take his prize.

The hunter did not like it when his prey got away, and now he was more than serious. He wasn't going soft on them anymore, not to say he was soft before, but he was willing to use every resource. Dangerous group they were. Notably, none of the weapons in his squad, over twelve men strong all armored and most with carbine rifles, some with light repeaters, were set on stun. He took his cigar and slowly ebbed the butt of it into the wall, putting it out and dropping it to the floor, making no noise but a small wisp of smoke and a slight sizzle, too far away to be heard.

Unless that is, one were to have some sort of earwig.

~*~

Strae twitched at the sound, listening suddenly more intently and turning her sound amplifier up a couple of notches. There, the steady shifting of feet, the mark of an impatient ambush. She slowly rose from her position of cover and looked to Grizzelda, pointing down the hall and making gestures, signalling that there were tangos down the hall. She turned her ear-wig down suddenly, and whispered, knowing the ambushers were too far to hear her, "You keep talking with the person, try not to let them know that we know, but see if you can get our third party to understand." Then she turned to the third person, the dealer.

After an emphatic wave, he crouch walked over, then sat behind the cover of the couch, and Strae told him in a hushed whisper, "The moment that the action gets heated up, go into that elevator there and head down one floor. Wait there. We'll get you when we're done. If the men come after you first, surrender immediately, let them take you to the lobby with the others. We'll be back for you. Priority number one is to stay alive. I don't get a discount if you die."

[sparrow]

Zarene listened as the other woman rose up from behind the couch and spoke. She was a good bit shorter than the first, with blond hair tied back into a nice neat ponytail. She did make some valid points. They did indeed have skills that she lacked, but probably the most important part of a temporary alliance would be that the number of people she'd have to worry about shooting at her would be two less. That was point one.

She was a bit surprised at their reaction to her. Having been a cyborg in a galaxy that very much looked down on most organics with mechanical bits, she was pretty much used to being treated like a freak. Of course, most wouldn't insult her to her face. The ones who did usually met quick and violent ends. But she didn't have to be telepathic to know that most people didn't like having someone like her around. These two were a bit different though. They didn't waste time on the prejudices and got straight to business. It was a... pleasant surprise. Point two.

The woman who had been speaking suddenly twitched, and raised her hand to adjust a small device at her ear. Zarene wasn't sure what had suddenly surprised her so, but given their current situation, she could make a few pretty good guesses. And if it was what she thought it was, then she'd be needing all the firepower she could get without having to worry about watching her back. Point three.

Slowly the barrel of her rifle moved away from the couch, and towards the door.

[Kella]

Strae was basically telling Grizzelda to act natural. Act Natural? When did Grizzelda not. She chuckled to herself for a moment, wincing as the movement tugged at her shoulder. It would be easy enough to keep their new acquaintance occupied, and now that the threat of imminent violence had decreased, it afforded Grizzelda the opportunity to tend to her shoulder.

"So," she began, digging out the dagger from her waist-sash and cutting a strip from one of the tails of her shirt, "What do you bring to the table?" Grizzelda looked the woman up and down, appraising. On the tall side, athletic build. Cyberkinetic right arm; slower on the draw when it came to blasters, but actually steadier than a natural arm. She seemed to be no stranger to combat, and a friend of dangerous situations. Mentally, Grizzelda catalogued the woman's weapons. "I'm going to guess you're the gunslinger sort," a bit of warmth came to her eye, as she regarded the younger woman. "Your stance is good, your arm steady, well-executed. You've potential," Grizzelda mused, using her teeth to tighten the knot that held a band of fabric around her injured shoulder. The pressure would stop the wound from bleeding more, which would free her hand to take up a blaster once more. Experimentally, she rolled her shoulder. The expected bite of the torn flesh made her wince, but her shoulder was still movable. Pain was only a symptom, simply a side-effect. It could be overcome.

Grizzelda might have implored as to matters other than the Gunslinger's skills. And yet, that's all she really wanted to know. Grizzelda loathed to offer up any information; and often money changed hands in exchange for her simple name. She didn't expect any other to grant her the favor of free information, and so she simply didn't ask. However, the woman's skills would factor into Grizzelda's own plan of battle, and so they were worth knowing.

She wiped her left hand on the thigh of her trousers, clearing it as best she could of the wet, sticky blood. This would unfortunately mean that when all this was over, Grizzelda would have to go shop for a new plainclothes wardrobe. A minor inconvenience, but an inconvenience all the same, she thought, heaving a mental sigh. Leaning against the wall once more, she waited for the Gunslinger's reply or the ambushed attack; whichever came first. And if this gal was as pensive and quiet as she seemed, the chances were really fifty-fifty.

[Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice*]

Heavy boots pounded as the mercenaries charged, rifles and carbines slung forward. It was quite obvious, but they weren't too far down the hall, and so they still believed they would maintain much of their element of surprise. They came into the main corridor between the elevators room and the hall that Zarene was in, having no clue that they had just walked into a waiting firing range.

The first one to go around the conrer got an Arkadian blaster round straight to the face, causing him to stumble, his helmet saving him barely, but taking him out of the fight for sure as he fell forward and dropped his weapon, screaming in pain. Strae's second shot missed, and her third couldn't possibly have, for the group of Merc's suddenly poured out around the corner en masse, half turning toward Strae and her group and some searching for the newcomer, Zarene, the other direction, carbine's raised.

Strae got a fourth shot in, watching another Mercenary fall to his death, three down...That was good. Suddenly she felt herself diving down as blaster and carbine rounds sizzled through the couches fabric, some setting it ablaze. She rolled away and remained prone, slowly crawling forward to poke her head out the far end of the blazing couch and get a few more blasts out. She heard a quiet DING! and new that the contact was already slipping through the elevator.

Strae leaned forward, but stopped suddenly as a red streak blazed forward, staining the tile in front of her. She yelped, fell back, and dived out of the cover of the couch. She landed around the pottery of a plant, bolted into the groun and surrounded with a small marble pedastal that held it up high. A carbine round chipped that marble a moment later, just a few feet from Strae. She quickly took cover, and began to return concentrated blasts at her enemies, taking careful aim but firing quickly. She wasn't the best with these sort of weapons, so she missed as often as she hit, and didn't always land a kill.

[sparrow]

"What do you bring to the table?" the taller woman asked. One of Zarene's eyebrows rose slight. "I think... you already know the answer to that question."

There was a sound in the hallway, and Zarene instinctively drew deeply upon the Force. Shortly after that, mercenaries started pouring into the room. One raised his rifle and shot at her, but the bolt went through empty air as Zarene was already cartwheeling to the side, her return shot blowing away his knee.

Coming through the door, behind serveral other mercenaries, she saw a familiar face. It was large, grizzled looking man who had been in her room before. He raised his rifle calmly. Zarene had seen earlier what kind of damage the weapon could do. Unlike most slugthrowers that could be blocked by a decent suit of light armor, that rifle was something much more powerful.

Through the Force, Zarene's senses were greatly heightened. She could see his finger moving towards the trigger in slow motion. The merc she had shot earlier was still on the ground, clutching his knee. Suddenly he found himself flying upwards through the air. He would have screamed, but never had the time.

Bang.

Blood splattered everywhere.

[Kella]

If one had a twisted sense of humor, it looked like fireworks. Bits of flesh exploding in all directions, peppering the whole hall with flecks of bright red blood.

Grizzelda's sense of humor was only slightly twisted, and as such, it simply appeared to her as one great big mess. There was no salvaging this wardrobe now... might as well get dirty.

And, in fact, that's what she'd already been doing. Three swift shots with her Heavy Blaster had taken one thug down, the other thug had required only two. Grizzelda had ducked her head to protect her eyes from the sprinkling of blood, and except for a slight annoyance at the messiness and im-professionalism of it all, she quickly slid right back into the fight, ducking this way and dodging the other, seeking natural cover. A burst of three shots revealed that two of the Mercenaries had armor specially designed to diffuse blaster bolts. No problem.

Flyk!

Her Verpine Shatter gun quickly disposed of the first (a quite impeccable headshot, it is worth noting), while a dodging roll brought Grizzelda up to a knee, where she fired off a second round, catching the other Merc soundly in the chest. Finding cover behind the burning couch, Grizzelda regarded the situation for a moment, the heat drawing moisture from her face. The inferno actually made great cover...

Two blaster bolts suddenly cut through the flames, going wide of their target as Grizzelda learned to compensate for the heat distortion. And then two more followed behind, catching their target in the shoulder, then the gut. Not enough to kill. Grizzelda smiled; the wavering heat of the flames actually made things challenging; made targets much harder to hit. Her next to shots hit their mark; slicing through his unprotected neck as Grizzelda ducked back down behind the couch. The wooden frame that had been holding it up suddenly crumpled, and the couch folded into a pile of burning debris. Sparks sprayed outward, burning against Grizzelda's skin. Time for new cover then. She rolled to the right, coming up to a crouch for just a moment, a blaster bolt grazing her left shoulder. Then she ducked her head and rolled forward, exhaling sharply as the motion strained her injured shoulder. She could feel the scab slip as it began to ooze again, but the bandage that was still pressed tightly against it would prevent further injury.

Two shots, duck for cover, two more, duck. The red fire of the enemy struck a chaotic pattern, and Grizzelda predicted the pauses, ducking from her cover in a different manner each time, keeping them guessing. Rarely did her shots miss, but more often than not she struck a well-armored body part. Chest plates and helmets were exceedingly annoying. The ammo in her Shatter gun was penetrating, but precious, and so she resolved to make do with the heavy blaster, being as precise as possible, and incapacitating Mercenary after Mercenary. Of course, the nature of combat always made the kill-count seem larger than it was.

Grizzelda was happy picking off the mercs, one by one as they came around the hall, until they were all dead. However, she guessed Strae might have a different plan, and since Grizzelda's life was in no immediate danger, she resolved to simply wait for the other woman to make some deliberation.

"Glad to see they rolled out the Red Carpet."

[Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice*]

Strae dug into her cover deep and started firing as fast as she could, not that fast. However, with the combined efforts of the three, the mercenary band was falling fast. Not exactly dying, but they few made it out of the hall without getting hit. Many died in the initial outpour, falling as accurate blasters shredded through their armors. Others were wounded or had the wind knocked out of them. Another one fell at a final blast of Strae's blaster.

By the end of the first raid, half of the merc's were down. Grizzelda was jumping, dodging, and returning fire like an expert, another one down. Strae grinned. One of the mercenaries suddenly launched up into the air, hitting the cieling powerfully. Crack. That had to hurt. His limp body fell to the ground. Still, at least four heavily armed mercenaries were standing, and they weren't in a confused storm either, they took their respective covers and went into kneels. One raised his weapons as Strae. She ducked down just in time.

Well placed blasts seared the air above her. The concrete pot she was taking cover behind was cracking, chipping, and wearing away. Not good. Strae leaned out the other side, preparing to leap to another one. She hesitated for a moment, and a blaster bolt scorched the air in front of her, immediately she reversed direction, leaping the opposite way. She took new cover behind the wall, in a tiny corner provided by the indent that the elevators door had, giving her enough room to squeeze her body behind the steel walls. Good place to be behind, given her situation.

She spun around adeptly, taking three wild shots with her blaster. The first two missed, the last clipped the enemy in the top of his helmet by sheer luck. He stumbled onto his back. She wasted no time in taking careful aim and sending another wave of shots, accurate and placed directly into his chest as he squirmed around on the ground.

Two of the other mercenaries who'd situated took aim at Grizzelda; a careful aim. Once their aim was locked, they fire rapidly, carbines slinging bolts at the enemy. Their first shots were accurate, but because of the speed they were afforded little time to readjust their aim and it was difficult to calm the recoil, but they were confident that at least ONE of their shots would get through, right?

The final saw the dire situation of Dorman Jerzick, distracted by the mercenary beside him who was merely lobbed into the air and unable to fire. Before the cyborg woman could react and shoot at Dorman, he lifted his own weapon, a repeater, and fired wildly. Dorman took this opportunity to dive out of her line of fire then switch targets, readying his slugthrower in Strae's direction.

The sound of a familiarly loud slugthrower made Strae bolt upright, then the noise of wrenching metal. She felt the slug passing through her own body then, hitting her on the right hip, clipping the side. She cried out in pain and reached for the elevator door call, tapping it in a panic. The door slid gently and abruptly open, lucky her, and she fell into the elevator room before the next series of Dorman's rounds could finish the job, tearing through the wall she'd just been taking cover behind...

She lay there, staring at her wound. It wouldn't be lethal if they got out of here before it could infect or get worse...But suddenly Strae didn't like her chances of getting out...Plus, there was quite an alarming amount of good blood pouring out...She'd need it bandaged within the hour if she planned on living.

[sparrow]

Zarene reacted quickly, grabbing one of the other still-alive mercs in the room, pulling him between herself and Dorman's slugthrower, while raising her metal arm to protect her face. The man's light armor and flesh stopped most of the bullets, but one went clean through. There was a loud clang and Zarene stumbled back a step, dropping her gun.

A cybernetic limb receives signals from the body that it is attached to in order to move and function. But it also sends signals to the body as sensory feedback. And for Zarene right now, the signal was pain. Her arm was cold, unfeeling metal, with no real biological nerve endings, but the electronic ones served the same function. The bullet had embedded itself in the back of her arm. That wasn't the worst part though. She had taken hits to her arm before, but this time the bullet through sheer luck had hit just the right spot. She would be able to fix this, if she had some tools and a workbench. But for now, the movement of her arm would be severely impaired, her fingers rendered immobile, not to mention that it hurt.

Power down, she muttered, and her arm hung limply at her side, the signals of pain subsiding. Users of the Dark Side often found power through strong emotions, like fear, passion, hate, or in Zarene's case, anger. Right now, she had plenty of it. Payback time.

Flows of Force power, much larger than before, shot out from her good hand, curling around to grab Dorman and throw him across the room. But if she had her way he wasn't going to feel the pain of impact of hitting the wall at high speed. She'd shoot him in midair first.

[Kella]

ooc// So sorry it took me so long to post. >.< I went out of town for a few days and forgot to announce it, and that threw off my rhythm. I hate to keep you guys waiting... //

The bright flare, the sudden flash, the sharp red shadows cast across the floor; all signals that a flurry of bolts was racing in Grizzelda's direction. She threw herself to the side, attempting to let the volley pass to her right. She had dodged the well-aimed bolts, but the rest were wildly directed, unpredictable, random. Dodging the first round had put her directly in range of the resulting flurry, and even her well-timed dodge left her vulnerable to three of the bolts. The first grazed the underside of her arm, the second cut through her abdomen, searing the skin just below the ribcage, while the third sliced her thigh, midway between her hip and knee. Only three shots, but it felt like twelve. Twelve because she saw every flash of light, twelve because she heard every hissing zing, twelve because her brain could make little sense out of the blurred expanse of pain. But only three. Thus was the nature of blaster bolts, and it always seemed as if the number of hits was surprisingly low in relation to the initial judgment of the damage. Grizzelda knew this, and as she crammed herself into a crevice, let loose a muttered curse. A wince and a shudder rippled through her frame before she set her jaw, and leapt into the combat once more. She would loose no blood; blasters were like sabers; the heat of the bolt cauterized the wound. Nothing but a lethal shot was going to keep her out of this game.

For one to understand the true power of the plasma bolt, and the force of will required to ignore anything more than a light graze, it is necessary to understand the way in which the bolt does its damage. Common bolts and stun rays comprise a cylinder of searing hit, that upon contacting the skin, immediately burns the surface tissue. The heat is so focused and intense, that this burning effect extends into the deep tissue, moving through every layer of nerve tissue and producing an intensely painful searing sensation, as if one had grasped a red-hot iron and simply held on to it. The heat radiates through the surrounding tissue, creating a burn site much larger than the actual graze. The damaged tissue of these second-degree burns continues to produce a searing pain, which is enough to incapacitate some targets, even if the shot is non-lethal. Some blasters bolts burn so hot, they damage the nerve tissue on contact, and so the actual site of contact communicates no pain. However, the radiating heat produces second-degree burns throughout the surrounding tissue, and a much broader sting, a strange phenomena both known and despised by the ballistically educated crowd. Grizzelda found herself dealing with three of these so-called 'shadow-burns'. What bothered her was not the proximity to death, no, such a thing could never intimidate her. She was more annoyed by the knowledge that she'd have to fret with salves, and would still retain the scars. Bothersome things, non-lethal shots.

Willpower only takes one so far in resisting this sort of injury. What contributes more than anything is the same thing that allows a blacksmith to endure burn after burn, or a cook to wash with scalding water; exposure. Grizzelda was no stranger to blaster bolts, and knew their pattern of pain and healing intimately. She bore enough scars to provide testimony to this.

And that is what allowed Grizzelda to ignore the hits with a simple shudder, and that is what provided her the ability to dash once more from her cover, and put three rounds between the eyes of the Shutta who'd had the bad sense of hitting her. It was during this reemergence that Grizzelda heard the bang of a slugthrower, the hiss of elevator doors, and caught the flash of movement as Dorman was hoisted up in the air.

A perfect time for improvisation?
Hell yeah.

The verpine shatter gun in her right hand rose toward the air, following Dorman as she fired one, two, three rounds. The last shot rung as her left foot struck the ground again, pushing her backwards one more stride as her left hand and blaster skimmed the line of ducking mercs, providing a strafing, broad fire to drive them back undercover for the half-second she needed to duck into the elevator. An unlucky shot carved a trough in the flesh of her left hip, but it blended in with the rest of the searing pain. A flash of peripheral vision revealed to her a conscious Strae, and a growing pool of blood. Her focus, however, remained on the Gunslinger, as she watched the now-ally. Without so much as glancing at the spy, Grizzelda directed a query at Strae.

"Going up?"

[Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice*]

Strae thought a lot about death in her spare time. What would it be like? Would it be an emptiness? Would she be reincarnated? Would she even realize anything about it? Were any of the various religions correct, would she be tortured or granted a place of peace? Would she become apart of this ever-elusive force that the flaming jedi are always describing? It wasn't a fear driven thought, more of a curiosity. With a galaxy of theories, there was no way to know, and so Strae didn't waste her time. Better to think about what was happening here and now.

But in times like these, she couldn't help but think about the irony of her thoughts. What if she did die today, and because of that she would be tortured in some pit of hell? Or maybe she'd become a part of that enigmatic thing called the force, that which she never understood, something she never cared for...The irony of it struck her profoundly. And so when Grizzelda asked Strae the question, "Going up?" Strae didn't understand that she was talking about the elevator at first, and thought she was talking about death. About going up into some after-life, as some religions described it.

"Not if I can help it!" She growled through the pain, determined to stay conscious and alert. Strae sat up, gripping her blaster tightly and gritting her teeth. "Damn Merc's gonna pay dearly if he isn't already dead! I need to get a message to my ship. If I can, you can consider all these flaming mercs dead."

Strae was usually a calm and contemplative individual, and although she could be frustrated, anger wasn't a very easy thing to pull up on the list. Getting shot, she dealt with well. Being shot, however, she did not deal with as well. She reacted with anger, knowing it the best blanket for pain. She'd experienced pain before, she'd shrugged it off before, but in her experience, she found that a veil of rage was the best way to ignore the pain. And while every movement pained her, and made her sluggish, an equal amount of determination, adrenaline, and anger rose within her, blocking it out. In a few moments she was up, and looking down at her painful wound, leaning against the wall.

"What do you suppose the odds are that there's a Kolto tank somewhere on this level?" She asked. "We should ask our informant when we get the chance." As she spoke, she began to tear the cloth around her belly and waist, ripping off a few long threads; this revealed her lower body, showing clear skin and a physically fit body, though nothing spectacular. It also revealed her wound, a gaping hole in her side that seemed hardly noticeable due to the amounts of blood forming around it, and the already visible scabbing. She took the strips of clotch and tightly wrapped them around the wound, covering both the exit and entrance wound ( for it was a powerful rifle that Dorman had used indeed! ) and tying it tightly. She winced and hissed lowly the whole time. When she was finished she managed to growl out, "Let's finish this!"

Without wasting a moment of her time she spun around the corner, taking a quick glance around to get a feel for her enemies. In that quick, in and out glance, she saw two mercenaries remaining. She showed herself then, weapon out and pointing, luckily, exactly where she'd seen one. A quick spray, and he was down. "One more!" She said as she dived across the room to cover, the last of the mercenaries following her with his blaster, leaving him an open target for either Grizz or Zarene!

~*~

Dorman felt the grip of the force lift him into the air. It was too strong to resist, too demanding. And it was angry. He flailed, searching for something, ANYTHING, to grab on to. He felt himself flying across the room then, and took preventative measures. The sound of Grizz's verpine slugger registered, his hands had already been thrown up to guard his face. He felt the sting as one bullet tore through his arm, metal and flesh alike parting like butter before the awful bullet. But the defense was acceptable, for it saved his life, throwing the bullet off course just enough so that the projectile didn't tear through his skull. His face was turned to the side, and so the projectile smashed through his right cheek, blasting through bone and flesh and out his left cheek, mutilating his jaw and causing him to scream, a strange scream, given that half his jaw was just blown off in a gory display.

The second missile, perhaps by the grace of some god, missed. It was, perhaps, the problem with a shatter gun that the projectiles were so accurate, leaving no room for error. The final one hit him center mass, tearing through his chest piece. It was specially designed to stop sluggers, not blasters. Therefore, it did a bit to slow the verpine shatter gun's efforts, but not enough. The weapon went straight through the first layer, and into his flesh, not quite piercing to the otherside. The effect was that he did not die instantly. Whether that was a blessing, he did not know. There was still the problem of Zarene, on his left hand side, and he growled at his own helplessness.

( I prefer it that he survives the throw, but its up to you Sparrow. Perhaps she'll think him dead after Grizz's shot? Strae and Zarene could have so much more fun with him if he lives, tho, right? XD *Sadistic grin* )

[sparrow]

As Grizzelda's shots found their mark, Zarene lifted her gun and walked towards the fallen man. There were still one or two other mercs in the room who weren't dead yet and hadn't had the good sense to retreat, but those other two would take care of them. Her arm still hung limply at her side. He was going to pay for that.

With the Force, she bound his arms and legs, rendering his body spread-eagled and immobile. Normally Zarene was a practical assassin, killing her opponents with minimum fuss and quickly moving on. But right now, filled with anger, she was in the mood to cause some hurt.

"I was having such a good day, until you had to arrive and screw it all up," she said, pointing the gun at the man. The day had started with a smooth check-in, a warm bath with some hot beverages. It was supposed to be a day of relaxing and doing nothing. Instead this man had for some inexplicable reason decided to lead a mercenary brigade into the resort to cause all sorts of mischief and mayhem. Now, she had fought tougher opponents before, but the very fact that she had to fight any opponents at all today was so very very irritating! Who were these people and why were they here?

As he lay there immobile, she reached over to his neck, examining his tags. "So,... Jerzyck... did you actually think you were going to succeed? You think you're hot stuff don't you, leader of some ragtag mercenary outfit greener than the fields of Alderaan. You've probably shot a few civilians in the back before, maybe even had a firefight with an actual soldier once or twice. But having a big gun and some fancy armor you stole from a pawnshop doesn't make you a fighter. You got in a lucky shot or two, but before you shuffle off this mortal coil, you should know just how horribly out of your league you are here."

She paused for a bit. Let that sink into his little brain...

"You owe me a few answers. Answer me satisfactorily, and I might let you die quickly. If not, I'll start removing pieces of you. Bit by bit."

She had interrogated prisoners before, but usually it was only because she needed information quick and there was no Exchange interrogator on hand. It was never her strong point, and she never really derived much enjoyment from it before. She got the feeling she would this time, which surprised her. Gabriella,... that girl's such a bad influence...