Session export: Envoy Corps RP: Blood Bank Burglarly Part 2

Flyndt broke away from the others, after ensuring Foxen was in a comfortable enough spot away from creatures in the hangar and giving his hand a squeeze, and approached the familiar Free Bird 1. The N-1 starfighter’s engines had only just started that faint whisper of a hum, the sound the ship makes when on but not yet fully powered up. He hopped up the side of it till he could peak up over the edge of the cockpit to be face to face with the Sephi flicking through activation sequences and prepping her ship with muscle memory alone.

“Eevie,” the Omwati called with a light raise of his hand to the pilot, “Are you ready? Is still okay with this plan?”

He twisted to eye the several exotic looking starfighters also prepping to take off with the Arconan. Looking back, Flyndt shot her a brief small smile and patted the metal hull. “You will show them how it is done, yes? Stay safe, yeah? There is a sun waiting for you flying freely under it when we done here.”

Geared up and ready for action, Wenet stepped into the hangar. She stopped for a moment and glanced around at the various ships that where being prepped for launch. ‘one day, I’ll have my own’ she thought to herself and couldn’t help to imagine that she would get a fighter assinged to her at that moment. But when she noticed the party getting ready she let out a chuckle and shook her head ‘nah, probably best not to try flying today’ imagining everything that would probably go wrong due to her lack of experience.

She straightened her clothes and then continued her stride towards the others. “So where do you want me?” she asked with confidence in her voice “need me to handle the big guns?” she then asked with a smirk

Eevie sat in her cockpit doing some.quick diagnostics. With what she was about to do, she wanted to be sure her starfighter was working at peak proficiency. She noticed Flyndt approaching and removed her helmet for the moment. The Omwati seemed nervous for her.

“Hey Flyndt, I’m geared up and ready to go. Me and K-D9 are solid. And yes, I’m perfectly cool with this plan. I’ll get you guys your opening and ensure your safe flight.”

Her demeanor never shook. Never faltered. Her smile was ever present. K-D9 beeped in agreement, though they seemed to believe it was them who would keep Eevie safe, not the other way around.

“These droids birds stand no chance. I’ll be flying circles around them, and if they wanna stop me they’ll have to catch me first. And I won’t be taken in chains.”

After a few moments, and veggie she placed the helmet back on she looked Flyndt in the eyes.

“I’d give you a hug, but I know you’re no too keen on that. Take care of the others, Kay? Especially that Foxy fella. He’s all gruff and overly serious, but I can tell he cares for you. Keep eachother secure.”

With that the Sephi placed her Mandalorian helmet back on.

Flyndt nodded to Eevie’s rousing confidence – with a speech like that, how could he not believe as well. A small smile crosses his inked lips with the mention of care between Foxen and him.

“We will,” he promised.

Instead of a hug she knew all too well was not his thing, he gave her a light fist bump then hopped off the ship back onto the hangar decking. A light salute of a wave was his final way of sending her off before turning and rejoining the others.

When Flyndt left, and Eevie sat down and the ship was sealed Eevie let out out a nervous breath. She was confident that she could pull this off. But she was a gambler at heart. And how much longer to her luck team out,

“I know we can do this, right K-D…. I’ve got your back and you’ve got mine.”

Her engines revved as she readied for her distracting assault.

“We can do this. We can keep our team safe.”

The body breathed in strictly regulated, if elevated above baseline, intervals. Systems check: Respirations. Heart beat. Confirm. Inventory: weapons. Confirm. Vehicle: confirm.

Arrival meant mission start. Confirm.

His eyes watch home walk away after establishing secure distance in hangar from the Animals, feeling each step like a knife scratching under the ribs, a sloppy inefficient hand attempting to slice filets away from spine but only managing to maul the bone and destroy the meat. Flyndt went to the vomit colored Starfighter and spoke to the Eevie. From the lift of the feathers, it seemed a vigorous conversation. Good. Confirm.

The Kushiban asked where it would be needed with smirking confidence. Lacking language, per usual, the Foxen– he took datapad and typed to show her.

Standby in flight for landing. Once Archian releases the beasts, suggest you go too with weapons. They will be distraction. Your smallness will blend in around large feet. You can easily flank an enemy if present when ramp descends.

Once sufficient time had passed for them to read, he took the pad back and set target for the Aylin’s ship that Flyndt and she had upgraded so skillfully (and beautifully, but only the Omwati. The bias is correct.) He needed to cross the hangar, board the ship, and pilot them out after the Eevie. With the animals present.

Assess.

Set status: ignore ignore ignore.

Confirm.

Mission.

The Nautolan hybrid strode for the designated ship to begin take off checks and processes, having used the days to familiarize himself with the new ship deeply.

After the broadcasted message closed out and the din of crew rose, Flyndt’s gaze fell from the speakers and turned back to the open hangar door. He finished crossing the ramp into the Class Type B Escort Shuttle, which rested with its length compact for their deployment planetside – better for sneaking past the chaos with. His eyes adjusted to the interior lightning within its hull, making out the pen with Archian’s beast companions in them with their technology rigged collars attached. Flyndt raised a hand lightly to the red Shistavanen and moved over to meet with him.

“Archian, are they, you all ready?” <@571544963607822336>

Eevie, having been given the go ahead, lifted off from the hangar bay floor. With a light song, her N-1 starfighter flew from the hangar and out into open space. giving herself a moment to warm up her controls, she flew the fighte arounf the capital ship, waiting for her entourage of starfighters to follow her out. Once the other ships were out and into position, Eevie activated her coms.

“This is Eevie of Shadow Team, Free Bid is ready for initial approach. I will be going in at top speeds, and unleshing a volley of missiles onto their defense grid. Once yall have noticed their vulture droids begin their counter offensive, Star Vipers, begin your assault. The rest of yall on Shadow Team, once you feel the timing is right begin phase two of the plan. I will give as much cover and be as distacting as I can. Meetcha back when i can!”

With the Eevie punched it, her ship travelling at near unnoticible speeds, the loud screech of her engines silenced by the void of space. With a smile on her face, behind her helmet, she locked onto the defensive grid of her taret and unleashed hell.

Foxen was the only one who answered her question, using a datapad. Standing on her tippy toes she looked at the screen, reading the message. Her smirk grew bigger and looked up at the Nautolan hybrid. “Alrighty then” she said and made an ok sign.

When Foxen walked away she took a moment to repeat what they told her. ”I need to check my weapons.. need to be ready when beasts are released…. Use them as cover to flank the enemy… yeah… I can do that” She was excited. As everyone boarded, she followed. Taking her rifle she began to check it, getting it ready for the upcoming fight.. ”this is going to be fun”

“Looks like Gree is hungry.” Archian pointed at the Reek. “This will help him to focus better on hunting and scavenging in the jungle.” Creature burped from the paddock and let Archian to pet it at its head. “That should help us to spread jamming signals in the bigger area.” He added, while also throwing a meatball inside of the cage. “Just to increase his hunger.” Archian smiled. “How are you keeping on, and… Foxen? I know that creatures are not his favorites….” Shistavanen asked.

Flyndt watched the handler and animal interact as he listened. The question poised to him caused him to pause, brow furrowed as he recalled the front into the ethereal realm.

“We are…living, doing O.K.–”

The hiss of hydraulics of the shuttle’s ramp closing interrupted him, the buzzing sound of starfighters departing slipping through the dwindling gap. Flyndt straightened up swiftly and turned back to Archian. “It is time. I will go help with the ship operations. May the suns shine favorably on us.”

And with that the Omwati pivoted and jogged towards the cockpit. He slipped through the door and into a seat behind Foxen and Aylin. Taking a deep breath, his hands found the controls he had familiarized himself with over the last few days – when not bugging Aylin about her droids, ship, or coding. A vocalized beat hummed behind inked lips that fell lock and key with the sounds of the buttons, knobs, and switches he handled.

“Aylin, how close you need to infect droid with this blight?” Flyndt asked the Nautolan woman after the shuttle slipped into atmosphere.

The sounds the Omwati made were unintentional cues Foxen used for grounding and for operation. They signaled the same switches and processes, ignition, clamp release, thrusters. He set the knowledge of the animals below, hungering to ignore in his mind and focused on: Flyndt and the Mission.

They glided, silent to sensors droids relied on with the upgrades, into the black. It was lit with periodic flashes, ion burn of the Eevie’s engines and the streaks of the droid ships chasing. Behind them, the massive shape of the carrier ships grew more distant. Besides the noises in the cockpit, all was silent in space; the violence outside in the void made no sound.

Eevie hands twisted and turned on her ships controls as she weaved in and out of vulture droid formations. At times her ship came dangerously close to clipping the enemy forces, a fact KD-9 all too happily shared with her.

“Calm down K. I’m doing the on purpose. You don’t think I know the size of my own baby here?”

The vultures laid suppressing fire on the Mandalorian, bit she simply.spun through the lasers, coming out the other side without a scuff on the paint job.

“They thought they were actually gonna get us. I almost feel sorry for em.”

Free Birds ion engines glowed as she upped the speed to put some distance, and a lone droid appeard on her screen.

“Oh look, that one thinks he’s taking us by surprise. That’s adorable. They think they know how to dance.”

With a flick of her wrist, the N1 starfighter twisted around and Eevie pulled her vehicles trigger. A single burst of firepower tore through the droid ships haul, and it went careening into space before detonating.

“I think it’s out turn, how about you K-D9? Let’s show these guys what real dancing is.”

Aylin looked up from her new creation and grinned, “Just a few hundred feet. I made the beam extra strong, but that means that Eevie has to stay out of it’s line of firering, else her droid might get crazy.”

She picked up a box like apparatus and walked towards the hatch, making sure to secure it to the floor so that it wouldn’t get blown out when she opened the hatch. She then contacted Eevie.

“Eev, don’t go flying behind our butts, it won’t be good for your friend. We are going to steal one.”

Comms crackled, a tab of static that was Foxen’s mute way of signalling that he was slowing as planned, cutting thrusters so they could drift. The hangar would be sealed on her mark for opening that hatch.

Ready.

“Let’s go!”

Aylin opened the hatch and started to aim her device at the bird droids. As soon as she had a lock on one she fired off the signal and started the slicing sequence to take it over. The droid bird moved eratically for a moment before flying straight again and making no more attack signs as it did before.

“I think we got one,” Aylin said with a grin

“Aylin?” the Omwati teammate’s voice crackled over comms, “Foxen says best send droid at the battery of the anti-capital ship canon? It is exposed on the ground. Do you see it?”

Meanwhile, Wenet was still strapped in so she wouldn’t fly across the room with each loop and turn the ship made. Her heart was racing with excitement, couldn’t wait for her moment to shine. Having checked all her weapons and gear she couldn’t be more ready.

Aylin peered out of the hatch and noticed the canons and started to grin. “Yes I see them. The bird is going to the coocoo’s nest!”

Going back to the device she send out a series of controls to the droid bird so that it would dive himself into the anti-capital ship canon. The droid in turn veered off and started it’s flight head on towards the canon.

“Say bye bye!”

After the accompanist fighter squads entered the fray Eevie was able to pull back and distance herself from the space station assault. She doubled back and followed after her team. The Free Bird followed the hidden other craft down to the ground, and the Mandalorian was more than ready to help defend her team.

Flyndt let out a low whistle punctuated by to clicks of his beak, his lips drawn open in shock and surprise at how devastating that crash was. Seeing the curling flames and rolling mounds of smoke erupt from the zone, the debris ejected from it, and then the dark shapes strewn beneath the clearing cloud in the distance. That, the bodies, twisted something in his gut. He’s seen death far more up close at an age he shouldn’t have and at the pits, then war…It was not easier each time, but he was slowly learning ways to harden his resolve and move past it.

Still, a stray thought crossed his mind on if these people deserved to die, were they really any enemies of his, or just the Brotherhood. Regardless, he agreed to help so…

“Let us land,” the Omwati suggested to Foxen after switching the final controls he had practiced manning for this mission. He stood with a furrowed brow and paused briefly, using the chair to balance with the ship in motion. Finally he straightened up and moved for the door. “I am going to ready up with Wenet. Meet you at the door.”

And with that, he slipped out of the pocket and navigated his way to the cargo hull. He easily and quickly made it to the three waiting there, nodding curtly to Aylin. “Job done well.”

“They most definitely on alert now. Must expect resistance,” Flyndt turned the convo to the others present, “As said before, I am shadow, can move unseen. If I do, I will tell you first. ‘Spectre on field,’ and gesture to the area I go.”

The avian paused, and then shrugged. He was not a leader, and the only thing roving in his mind was something Sofila or Minnie would say.

“Let us kick ass.”

Once securing them a landing zone, Foxen cut the primary engines of the ship, acknowledging Flyndt’s notice with a knock of his bracer on the chair arm. A quick scan out the viewport revealed little but the obvious: stirring enemy troops and alarms throughout the compound, Eevie’s Starfighter overhead coming to land. No point in an element of surprise now.

He left secondary engines idle, in case of needing to scramble a quick takeoff. The Aylin’s ship had handled reasonably, and the cloak upgrade would still make escape significantly easier.

He was only separated from Flyndt for a short time, but it was long enough to cause the body restlessness. He descended to the bay where the others gathered just in time to catch the Omwati’s last words of warning for his ghosting ability, and then–

“Let us kick ass.”

The pride and delight that flared in his chest was. Extreme.

“Confirm,” he whispered, soundless, before releasing the ladder to approach.

But then came the problem: the animals.

They had stayed clear of one another the entire time as much as physically possible. Now, fit with special collars – collars – the Archian would release them first as vanguard/confusion before the team deployed to ground assault.

Which meant they were right there. And when he drew within 0.5 m of the reek, trying to round it to get to Flyndt’s side where it was safe, the animal turned, snuffling.

Its horn pointed at him.

Its horn is in his stomach.

The sand is red and dark underneath the feet. The body slides. Is pushed. The red splatters. The sand eats it up. It does not spread. Just small circles, smaller than they seem they should be.

The eyes see pieces of intestines, spleen. Slipping hands. The grunt of heavy breath.

The body stands ready in the hangar but the mind is away. Confirm. The body still functions. Check weapons. Ready to deploy. Confirm.

[Perception fail]

As soon as they disembarked, Wenet moved to a ridge from where she had a better view. With her big furry ears she easily picked up on the conversation that was happening between the guards.. “seems they are unaware we are already on the surfface” she said to the others. *“atleast we’ve got the element of surprise” she added with a smirk. “a rancor?.. they have a Rancor here?” she wasn’t sure if they were serious or of it was metaphorically, either way it sounded exciting to the tiny Kushiban.

Wenet continued to scan the area, she noticed the box like objects near the spherical objects, “blaster turrets?.. hmm what are we going to do about those?.. are we still going to use the animals as a distraction?.. I’m ready.. just so you know” she said and held her rifle firmly on her hands…

Archian walked ducked down the Ship’s ramp, holding both creatures’ leads in each paw. Very silently he walked behind the thick bush and trees as protection, followed up with Reek and Kaadu to the rest of the disembark group.

As they agreed the jamming collars were assembled and ready at the both critters’ necks. With the move of the claw, Red pushed the button to activate both of them. Reek made a small surprising growl after feeling the minimal vibration on its body, while Kaadu didn’t react at all.

Shistavanen made a small, quiet whistle into the herbivore’s ear and it made its way to the left, deeper into the jungle, munching at the leaves and grass from time to time without stopping.

With one arm Archian reached into one of the many pockets of his clothes, and took out the small pieces of grilled Borcatu’s meat. He whistled again, and threw treats into the opposite direction then Kaadu went. Reek looked at the direction of the food, and immediately followed in that direction. Hopefully it would find some prey to hunt on, or at least that was what Archain hoped to keep it moving.

Flyndt came to crouch at the embankment with Wenet, keeping low as he followed her gaze and observations. A Rancor? If these people had one, well, he surely did not want to encounter it, the thoughts of his experience with Candy, a Rancor from Archian’s home moon, surely were not any he would like to repeat.

“If they do, I doubt it fit in buildings,” Flyndt responded matter of factly, not sharing her excitement over it.

With Archian handling his creatures and sending them off, Flyndt reached out to rest a hand on Foxen’s arm, a tethering contact offered. He answered Wenet’s inquiry, nodding at the Shistavanen behind them, “Archian deployed them. Shall we wait? See if they draw any away? For turrets, could shoot to disable or if control panel, I could ghost in and take offline?”

Aylin got close to them and tilted her head slightly.

“Why would they have a rancour in there? It sounds more like they are trying to hide something else in there.”

She pulled out her remote slicer pad, “We could use this to take the turrets offline and the doors open, but then someone or something needs to plug in the cylinder into the console”

Flyndt tracked what Aylin was suggesting. Without hesitation, he volunteers. “I can do that, insert it.”

The Nautolan held up the cylinder and nodded, “Good luck.”

The grounding touch was a welcome anchor to hyper alert nerves/body. Foxen, recovered from the initial panic/shut down in presence of the reek at disembark, was – obviously – was silent while the others spoke lowly. When Flyndt reached to take the cylinder, he reached to touch the Omwati’s sleeve, gripping tightly, briefly, before letting go.

It was a soundless, be safe, accompanied by the folding over of two fingers, thumb out, signing, I love you. A firm nod. Flyndt could do this.

And if anyone fired on the field while the Ghost was on it, he would eviscerate them.

Stealthily.

Because the enemy was nannering and intel was useful to overhear.

Before he lost Flyndt as his voice, he inconveniced the Omwati once more, signing for the group, Likely not literal rancor. Metaphor. ‘Facing rancor with toothpick.’ As in, they have ‘top notch gear’ from this benefactor, who we should identify if possible, and they assume we are pirates with comparably insignificant weapons/equipment.

He paused, grimacing slightly in apology, for Flyndt to translate, then went on.

Plan is good to hack turret. Animals jam communications. We will be able to eliminate small groups at a time without necessarily having them alert everyone, until out of range of jammers. Suggestion: once Flyndt in place, signal. A-Y-L-I-N direct turrets to shoot at this group. Try to leave that one, he indicated the scared greenhorn, alive. New blood. Already afraid. Will talk easily but may be useless on information. Alternative: we attack and disable the lot, then individually interrogate, allotted 5 minutes total before moving on.

Wenet was ready, she had been ready since they dropped out of hyperspace above Rishi Moon. And now was finally her moment to shine.

Aylin asked for a volunteer but before Wenet could respond, Flyindt volunteered to insert the cylinder to slice the turrents. Foxen then repeated the plan, or a plan anyways.

“Annimals jammed communications - Flyndt plugs cylinder - Aylin hacks the turrets, aiming them at guards. - Let atleast one alive to question..” Wenet repeated for herself. Then her ears flattened, “but where do I come in?” she asked confused, looking at each of them.

But the animals were already set lose, “kriff, that’s my cue… right?” she didn’t wait because she simply couldn’t. The small Kushiban dashed off on all fours making herself smaller and at the sametime look more like an ‘animal’. Going into a different direction than the actual animals, she used the landscape to stay out of sight as much as possible hoping the wouldn’t notice her. She circled around, and as she did, she listened for any clues.

Flyndt nodded back, his leather clad hand mirroring the gesture in return after a small pause. He then pulled his gaze away and took the proffered cylinder. It was familiar in his hand, having similar in his own pack although he had yet to really attempt using his outside of toying with it at home. With the small device secured tightly in his curled fist, he shifted to relaying Foxen’s messages. His free hand moved to grab the short staff like pole from his back as he spoke quietly before aborting the action and instead fishing his kal dagger from his belt.

“I think trying talk to all would take too much time, would have to incapacitate them after too,” Flyndt responded to the options presented. He exhaled a shaky sigh, not too keen on killing in arguably cold blood at that point. Seeing the animals pull out a large group of guards and Wenet slip off, good luck he thought, the Omwati knew the time to act was urgently present. “I must go now. I will stick to the building at the terminal, out of sight and range.”

“Spectre on field.”

With the signal of his cloaking announced between them, Flyndt pulled upon the Force and in a weaving blanket of shadows and light, he disappeared from view. The soft sound of him planting his boot on the embankment to hop over it was the last sound the hear from him of his disembarkment. .

Moving silently, Flyndt allowed himself to approach at a light jog before slowing to a cautious walk once nearer to the building. He needed to conserve his concentration and energy for this mission, which meant do not frak it up. His gaze shifted between keeping tabs on the guards and scanning the building for wherever there was a terminal or some access point he could deploy the cylinder. The spherical surveillance cameras drew his attention, a small box seemed to be connected to them. He slipped up close to the corner of the building and with one more check on the guards, used his dagger to carefully pry the casing open just enough to insert the device.

Closing the casing as much as he could, Flyndt pressed against the structure and waited. Surely the Nautolan woman would get some sign of connection any second now.

Aylin saw a light light up as she was staring at the datapad like a hawk. Time for her magic fingers to do the work. She quickly typed away on the datapad, overwriting the programming of the two hidden turrets. First things first, they were put on stun mode instead of outright killing people. Secondly she had to take over the aiming controls for them.

Both tasks completed with ease. She grinned as she also saw that she had control of the camera’s inside the complex.

“Guys,” she whispered, trying to contain her cheer, “I got the turrets to stun and can completely control them. More so, I got into their camera systems as well, so we can have a peak inside.”

The Reek and the Kaadu were the perfect distraction. Thanks to them Wenet successfully circled around and positioned herself not far from the main entrance. Hiding behind a large rock, she had the perfect view. She saw how a strike team exited the base and split up to investigate the animals on a loose. “yeah.. why don’t you do that” she whispered to herself as she grabbed her rifle from her back and aimed it on the four guards at the entrance.

She tapped on her comlink “I’m in position” she said softly keeping her eyes on the guards “just say go” she added smirking and waited for further orders.

“Go!”

Wasting no further time she activated the turrets who automatically picked their targets in front of the door. The sudden activation startled the guards who were shot down with stun shots before they fully realized what was happening to them. One of them was lucky enough to evade the initial shots and moved further away from the doors. That would be his error.

<@741417155546841158>

“Go!” she heard Aylin say over the comms.. Wenet, who had kept het eyes on the guards at the door saw how the torrents took put three. Stunned, they dropped to the floor, but one of them got away.

“You’re mine” Wenet said..she could have shot him from her position. But that wouldn’t be fun. She hopped over the rock, she was plain view now. A risky move. “leaving your post? What would your superior say” Wenet said, standing behind the guard.

Quickly the guard turned, and as they did they shot. But they missed. The blaster shot right over the Kushiban’s head. “missed” Wenet said, pointing her rifle at them. “What the…” the Guard was obviously surprised, didn’t expect a Kushiban. They again wanted to shoot but Wenet was quicker, she shot them, point blank in the shin. Even with armour, at that range it made them drop. Laying on the floor they reached for their rifle “I wouldn’t do that if I where you” she said, hopping on top of them, pressing the barrel of her rifle at his other knee.. “we would like have a little chat with you”

With the spray of stun bolt quieting as quickly as it began and Wenet subduing the last one, Flyndt materialized back into view and came up to her side. He had left the fob where it was for Aylin, certain it needed to remain connected for her access to the system. The Omwati spun his knife in hand and looked for Foxen. Eyes connecting, he raised his other hand to signal to the other four to join them.

“Best make it quick,” the avian uttered about the chat, crimson feathers raising as he minded the door behind them and scanned the surrounding area.

Foxen’s red unblinking gaze easily tracked the invisible shimmer of his home as it advanced across the field, a perfect, primordial specter. Where others would see nothing, he knew. He watched, listened and waited as the team relayed information, plans, success.

Hacking: successful. Meaning: Flyndt: successful. Turrets ready, cameras accessed.

The violence would begin.

Stunning beams sprayed as machinery whirred suddenly to life. Bodies dropped, still with pulses. One body tried to run, but the Kushiban dashed after and shot quicker and more accurately than the opponent did; kneecaps, always the best target.

At Flyndt’s reappearance and signal, the Foxen moved, entering the field too. He approached the living bodies and deftly went about using items of their armor/clothing/weapons belts to bind them. He also bound the hands of the awake captive. Process duration: 73 seconds.

Then he turned and grabbed the back of the breastplate of the one the Wenet had dismantled the kneecap of, and easily hauled him across the ground to much noise of dissatisfaction, purposeful to drag rather than lift. He dropped the guard down close to the wall and open door where Flyndt waited while the Kushiban hopped after him and returned her blaster to the intact kneecap, and while the Aylin and the Archian crossed the field, joining them.

A grunt was all the sound the Nautolan hybrid made. Verbal interrogation, not his forte.

Should ask about benefactor, armaments, location of shield controls, he listed quickly.

Flyndt nodded to Archian, Aylin, and Eevie before turning to read Foxen’s hands. He crouched down near the guard and fixed him with unblinking eyes.

“Who do you work for?”

Narrowing his eyes, the seven-foot tall horned hybrid took a deliberate step up beside his bird, two sets of eyes now peering without blinking. He reached for his belt. Slowly. And took out his beskar kal, the shine of the metal unmistakable to anyone with a modicum of knowledge in either the underworld or combat legends. He held it up.

And then he recalled from file:memory the image of Flyndt from that morning, lightly snoring on his chest, one of his tail feathers curling over his bare shoulder and stuck to his face with a bit of drool, centering it in his mind.

The smile that the image caused was instant, easy as breathing, wide and full of genuine joy. It showed all of his teeth. All of two rows of sharp, large teeth.

He hummed.

The looking shadow towering behind a stock of crimson and silver feathers cracked open a large pointed maw, the like of which the guard imagined should only belong to a terrible beast. It was as if the overgrown horned Nautolan was thinking about all manners of ways to flay him. He much rather take that blaster bolt to the chest. Speaking of which, the hard metal barrel of a rifle knocked hard against his good knee and pulled his attention away from the edge of terror just enough to uttered a hasty reply.

“Look, I can’t tell you that– not, wait, wait!” He struggled to sit up and pressed his back against the wall when Foxen took a step forward. “I’m guessing yer not pirates and whatever brings you here has to do with the elite troops that came recently, yeah?”

Flyndt narrowed his eyes, “Tell us about them. Everything.”

“Don’t typically work with them and they don’t follow our ranks. Has durasteel armor, blasters – the good ones – and melee weapons, I don’t know what kind. Frak, mate, uh, gas masks and air filters, uh,” the bound and captured guard swallowed as he dug for anything else that may satisfy his captures and spare him. “Look, there’s a squad of them inside. Most our men went after the bloody animals. That’s all I know, I swear.”

Flyndt glanced to Wenet with her blaster rifle and then Foxen over his shoulder, a look asking if they had anything else they wanted to ask or what next to do.

In awe, the Kushiban watched how Foxen and Flyndt intimidated the crippled guard. “that’s kriffing awesome” she thought to herself as she watched the man open up like a fountain, sharing what he knew about the people he worked with. It wasn’t much, but plenty to work with.

She wasn’t heavy, but when Wenet stepped onto the dismantled knee, the guard Ofcourse cried out in pain. “you sure you told us everything?” She asked with a smirk, poking the top of her rifle in the other knee. *“anyone else inside, other than that squad? What about security… locks? Do I need to take your eye out to open doors?, what a layout?” Wenet was rambling on as the excitement of the situation rushed through her tiny body.

Aylin took a peek at her datapad to see if anything changed on the camera feeds that were coming in. So far it seemed quiet, but that could change any moment if they lingered here or some alarm system was triggered if someone didn’t answer on time.

“Can we please go on? I don’t like to be a sitting kaduu out here with those others going after the animals and the rest maybe getting a high alert alarm when there is no feedback from these guys.”

Shistavanen made her way to the captured soldier, taking out syringe from one of the pockets and weighting the heaviness of two jars - blue and red - held in the other paw. “Now…” He grumbled. “I can give you either painkiller, or poison…” He made a small pause. “That depends only on your answers and cooperation.” He kneeled next to prisoner. “Firstly… how many of this “others” are inside?” He asked and lifted the blue jar at the front of the prisoners eyes. “Secondly, is there any other entrance except this one?” Red pointed at the main entrance door to the building and showing ree jar this time. “And the last, but most importantly - do you hold any Rancors here?” He looked directly into soldier’s eyes, and pushed out air from still empty syringe. <@476595775187451913>

“Who would have rancors?!”

Foxen nearly broke character rolling his eyes.

The fraking bozo talking to you, champ, he thought of the damn Shistavanen.

It seemed the usefulness of their captive was at its end, and time was short, as the Aylin noted. The Nautolan grunted, his smile fading slowly thanks to the genuine happiness still very much lingering from thinking of Flyndt, but his movements were quick. He holstered his knife again – one of many – and crouched down, seizing the guard by the back of his armor. Looping one arm about as thick as the man’s head around his throat, he flexed, squeezing.

00:00:06 seconds elapsed with obstruction of oxygenated blood flow to the brain from brachial trunk arteries, sufficient for loss of consciousness. He waited 5 seconds more in case of particularly stubborn physiology or advanced endurance training like his own, then released before any damage could be permanently caused.

The guard slumped soundlessly into him, and Foxen stood up, carrying his weight easily in one arm, dangling over the shoulder. He carried him back over to the other three, picked all of them up similarly as one might multiple sacks, and with just a soft grunt, carried the lot inside the open doors, depositing them against the wall.

Less likely an alert for the searchers, without bodies to trip over.

The rest of the group followed suit, and the Aylin used her connection to trigger the doors closed. They were inside.

Foxen, taking in every available detail from white bolt wattage of the glowbanks illuminating blank durasteel broken only by welding seams, to the grain and tilt of one uneven leg in that table and the visible wear and tear of the straps on the sides of filtration masks. His unblinking eyes and tactical mind internalized and recorded height and weight approximations, blasters, which hand they drew the weapon with, stance, armor, the accent of the one speaking. The memory installed the words, the details.

But the rest of him, all of him, had only one mission, whether or not surrender, subterfuge, or violence was chosen.

Protect home.

The millisecond any of the four moved, he would step in front of Flyndt.

Eevie took in her surroundings, and the unique weaponry of the enemies. They were well armored, and armed, and the Mandalorian wanted to make quick work of their opposition. Foxen was primed to protect Flyndt, and the others looked ready for a fight. In the back of the Sephi’s mind, she knew sometimes you needed to work smarter…not harder, so it was time to take a gamble on the situation. Under her breath she spoke to her suits AI.

“Target armor and weapons, fire in 30 seconds. Fly and sing, my Whistling Birds.”

After, she stepped forward and raised her hands, “surrendering” to the situation. She placed her Blaster, Sword, and Rifle on the ground as she spoke to the guards, buying time for her suit to do its job. Her southern drawl aided in her innocent facade.

“Oh dear, I am so sorry. We were flying out there in space, just tryin to get home, when these starfighter came outta nowhere and started causing all kinds of racket and trouble. Our ship was damaged, and we had to crash land on this rock, and we were just trying to find a shelter. Obviously we picked the wrong one. Please dont kill us with them scary looking guns of yers. We’ll walk outta here quiet-like and never tell a soul o what we saw. We just wanted to get home and see our families.”

As Eevie spoke, her suit was har at work, targeting what seemed like weak points of the guards armor and weapons. While she wasn’t sure theynwere buying her story, they weren’t outright firing, so that was a start. After 25 seconds of non-stop goveling, her little chicks were ready to leave the nest.

“I promise you all, you’ll never see us again.”

With a piercing screech, her flock of birds took flight and whistled away from her vambrance. The Beskar tipped projectiles flew and sung their tune, impacting with energy shields that the surprised guard were able to activate. The shields, however, couldn’t handle the projectiles and sputtered out of existance after their onslaught. One of the birds snuck past the defenses and blew a hole in one of the guards, making sure Eevie’s promise to him was kept. Another of the birds flew up the barrel of another guards blaster, exploding inside the tube and destroying the weapon.

“Oh my, who coulda saw that coming…”

Explosions went off. Microscopic ones, the familiar whistle in the air; nothing like a real bird, despite the name, the same weaponry in his own gauntlet.

Nothing like the songs and sounds that made his home–

Unnecessary speeches.

Barrel lifting 0.6 m, 0.8 kph, 176°.

Trigger finger bending 3 mm.

Aiming at–

Move.

Foxen darted in front of the Omwati, braced for burning even as he lifted his arm in a sharp cross guard, like blocking a punch. Instead, the spray of the single powerful shot exploded off his beskar'gam, the sole remaining piece, beside Flyndt’s halberd. It wasn’t a deflection, not even a perfect block, as the plasma that flash-fried his upper arm just above the brace caused a sudden stench of sizzling meat and dermal fat.

Foxen’s lips peeled back, baring the rows, not in acknowledgement of the pain instantly set status: ignore, but in cold fury.

That fraker had aimed at Flyndt.

And Foxen was going to grind his bones into component atoms. <@244244400488710155>

Wenet was more alert than ever, so when the guy opened fire she quickly jumped aside and rolled away from the group. Using her momentum she got back on her feet. Rifle ready she returned fire

What the kark are you doing–

Tiny rockets sung through the air in a metallic chirp, sending sparks arcing through the air that caused the Omwati to duck, attention away from the seemingly surrendering Eevie. Straightening up, Flyndt’s gaze flicked to the man that spoke, catching the tail end of his words. The avian did not need to know what was said when the raising gun spoke for him.

The smell of singed skin and cloth hit even his weak nose.

Flyndt shifted sideways and lightened his grip on his blade in hand. An agitated trill escaped him as he found himself peering up and around at Foxen. Not because his partner defended him but because he had been injured, even if mildly so. Sunset fires narrowed at yet another foe raised their multi-barreled blaster.

Again, the Force tingled his nerves, a voice ringing in the back of his head.

Move. Defend

Without a thought, the Kal Dagger clattered onto the floor and with a flutter of his pants flowing with abrupt movement, Flyndt leapt around Foxen. A orange glow erupted from the staff he pulled from his back, the pike moving swiftly on flitting motions of one familiar with both the Form Niman and polearms. The countering strokes deflected the bolts that then scorched the floor and walls beside them. He exhaled as he came to an almost rest, stance wide and shifting still. Hovering over the posed and waiting pike, his free hand shook subtly as he realized what he drew in his haste to act. Flyndt swallowed and tightened his grip. The choice was made and there was no turning back now.

Mid-firefight was still not the place for anything of the swooning variety.

And yet, the occasions continued to number higher.

Oh well. Mmm.

Foxen had not moved, but rather planted his stance, when the other barrel had come up in his peripheral. His plan had been simple: either he would shield Flyndt, or Flyndt would him.

There was no other truth but that.

Orange light erupting into existence, the first time he’d been granted the honor of its mourning visage, the radiant sun a mother’s enduring love and protection defying time, space, death. Flyndt moved like something else, like a specter, a dream, ferocious and swift, denying.

His other hand shook.

Rage coiled at that, ready to spring. But this had been Flyndt’s choice, and so it went back to its other target:

The asshat with the microgrenade array on the belly of his blaster.

The Nautolan drew his pistol, raised, and fired. His target saw him doing it, and jetpack engines ignited, but Foxen merely adjusted his aim 29°, unblinking red eyes calculating, and fired thrice in quick succession.

Bullets slammed into the join of the casing between body parts, into the carbine mechanism, into the bulky power pack hidden behind that grenade launcher that had been leveraged helpfully into view. The armament erupted, dying mechanical death.

Unfortunately, no screaming for holes in hand muscle or removed fingers went flying with it.

Shame.

<@476595775187451913>

Archian noticed the shot from the enemy leader, directed at the whole of the group. He didn’t bother to turn on his personal energy shield, as there was not enough time for that. He made a step to the side - while making this move, he felt the parts of the metal bullets brushing over his armor. Damage could be bigger, so he was considering himself lucky. Though he grabbed out his bow ready to shoot at the enemy, there was still one word echoing inside of his head, which he shouted out loud. “Where are these poor RANCORS?!”

The smoking, destroyed gun was tossed to the ground with a short audible stream of curses. Smoke curled from the weapon’s metal carcass as the leader’s boots hit the ground and he shook his trigger hand. The glare over the face mask was undeniably at the Nautolan hybrid.

All Flyndt saw was an unarmed target. With a deep exhale, he extended his mind to the Force and willed it to warp threads of shadows and light around him. To slink out of sight.

But his hold kept slipping and each try left a brief oscillating wave of faint transparency before his focus waned completely. Lost from his touch.

An angry warble gritted behind his teeth, frustration directed at himself. His shaking hand joined the other to grip the hilt of his pike and he launched himself forward, very much a solid spectre. Crackling purple energy easily parried the rushed blow as the Leader of their enemy drew an electro-staff.

Flyndt sucked a breath in and backpedalled. His grips slid down his polearm as he attempted to hold some distance between them – to use the reach the pike provided. Whatever that weapon was, something told him taking a blow from it would not be wise.

Aylin grabbed her pistol and hoped she could land a shot. As if with luck on her side she was able to hit the guard who was trying to dodge her shoot in his jet pack, making it explode and smack it’s rider back onto the ground.

“Woo!” she yelled as she quickly tried find a place to hide behind something.

Red lifted the bow, took an arrow from behind his back. Eyes were on target, and imagination made a clear invasion at his mind showing a lonely Rancor, closed in the iron, fourth wall cage, whipping to the left alone mate at the surface of the planet. Angriness started to pump and overflowed his muscles. The arrowhead was directed between the round pillar and the Eevie, at the foe waiting for the chance to fire at the group. Arrow was let go, flying quickly at the target. Reaching and piercing armor at the shoulder, which coloured in red colors of the blood, and dropping liquid beneath the enemy.

No one seemed to pay much attention to the tiny Kushiban holding rifle. She had moved to the right side of the room while the others kept everyone busy. She reached to her belt, grabbing one of the two bombs. In the heat of the moment she did not even check which one it was and threw it to the centre of the room.

Tic.. tic..tic… it bounced on the floor before ,boom, it exploded. A cloud of smoke instantly filled the room blinding the leader and one of the guards.

Wenet raised her rifle, pointing it at the two individuals at the terminals. “drop your weapons, step away from the terminal and lay down on the floor!” she ordered them. She wasn’t really sure if they were armed but thought to herself that it was best to be cautious…

*Tic…tic..tic.

Phssssshhh~

Flyndt watched the leader’s eyes glance to the side. Before he himself had processed the tinking sound nearby, a cloud of thick, nearly opaque white smoke curled up from the floor at his right and filled his vision with it. Pale nictitating membranes pass over his eyes to protect them, but the smoke choked his lungs. Coughing a bit, the avian pulled his vest collar over his mouth and nose. He shifted even farther back, keeping his saber pike between him and where he last knew his foe was, the orange light the ashen cloud.

Electricity crackled.

Flyndt whirled, magnificent and striking out, but his saber pike was caught on the second toy the loudmouth of the quarter pulled out. The reason behind its survival against plasma became immediately evident: electrofilments.

The body stiffens. The body remembers that sound, that buzz on the air, the ozone. The body remembers pain and locking.

But the mind.

The mind remembers Flyndt in the collar. Flyndt on the ground, writhing silently.

The anger roars into an inferno. The Foxen barely keeps hold of it, of the urge to rend and tear. He grips his pistol and a throwing knife instead, conscious he must be tactical, surgical. That there are other “teammates” and possible confounding factors of computers/equipment. This is not the pit. This is not breaking bones and clawing flesh until victory or death, wild and animal as the animals he fights.

But then the Kushiban throws a smoke grenade, and great, possibly useful possibly not move, except–

Except he loses visual of Flyndt.

And that is unacceptable.

Snarl on his face, the Nautolan reached to his neck and yanked up and on the goggles that waited there, snapping them over his lidless eyes. He slammed the butt of his pistol into his beskar bracer, the asking clang reverberating, sounding location, hopefully drawing fire/direction.

The boiling, possessive, protective rage, the static of memory file/present action, the gunmetal warm in hand and the goggles pressing to face making echoes of mask/muzzle–

It all became nothing in 2.4 seconds.

He sees: one target reaches for the belt, throws; a projectile arcs, approximate 123° vector, approximate heft < 0.9 kg; the others move nearby; Flyndt’s shape edges out of the smoke, lit by orange light.

He hears: clink clink clink.

He knows: an explosive device is about to go off near his home.

DENY.

Confirm.

Foxen pivots and sprints full force, torso already lowering into a dive. His hand curls around the spherical bulk of the grenade, but the missing finger causes poor grip, fumblage. The plan changes immediately from: throw away to protect to just: protect.

The Nautolan lifted himself and pressed his bulk down over the weapon, as hard as possible, feeling the bruising to sternum/ribcage. Curled the body. Calculations raced in moments– would it be enough–

Flyndt’s eyes, sleep-sand and crinkled. A cawing yawn over breakfast that morning. Happy trills. Determined feathers. A soft touch.

The life was a good one.

He feels the device move, feels a sort of pulse, uncomfortable and distinctly wobbly to the organs, and heat, but sweaty, not burning in fiery atomic death. It feels like standing too close to a laser cannon embankment, when the air warps from ionization.

His vambrace and datapad both make noises like death.

Recalculating.

…it was an EMP, like the one on his belt. Or an ion.

He’d be fraking pissed off all over again that he was on the floor like a chump if he wasn’t so fraking relieved to be alive to kiss his bird and shoot every one of these goddamn motherfrakers in both kneecaps and both elbows and the fraking face, twice.

As it was, he couldn’t shout an all clear or warning, so he just slammed his gauntlet down again, signalling reposition, CLANG!

As the grenade left the guard’s hand, Eevie immediately activated her jetpack. She needed to keep some distance between herself and its range of effectiveness. As the device went off, she noticed her electrical systems faltered momentarily. It was an Ion grenade, and now the Sephi was glad she acted so swiftly.

Smoke still filled the area from where Wenet’s grenade went off, but Eevie remembered the location of the highest-ranking guard. She wanted to end this confrontation, and removing the obstacle’s leadership would make lesser threats easier to pick off. Her helmet’s AI systems helped her calculate the exact positioning of her target, and with some luck, her aim would run true.

The Mandalorian pulled out her rarely used sword. The beskad blade, a weapon made of pure beskar, shimmered under the fluorescent artificial lights. As the fiery roar of her “Rising Pheonix” filled the room, Eevie soared forward. She flew past the others, into the smoke, and with a grin behind her helmet, her blade met its mark.

The squelch of Beskar carving through flesh was deafening to her as she landed on the ground. The leader looked surprised, the lights in his eyes seemingly fading.

…Wait…Lights?

Eevie ripped the blade free from her target, the silvery steel painted in red…and black? Blood and oil. She looked at the guard leader, some wires exposed from the grievous wound she had inflicted upon him. He was a cyborg…wielding a technocratic staff. A relic of the collective it would seem. Now, she had even more reason to shut this place down for good. She looked into his eyes, and he stared back, the lights still strong.

“Well, that was unexpected.”

The cyborg lashed out at Eevie with his staff, but the Mandalorian deftly caught the blow with her sword and parried him away before he launched himself elsewhere at breakneck speeds.

It all happened so fast. Wenet was still focussed on the individuals at the terminals, who still hadn’t complied with her orders to drop their weapons and get on the floor. ”are you deaf?” she snarled in annoyance when in the corner or her eyes she noticed Cyborg making a move on her. She tried to dodge by jumping backwards as the electro staff came down. But the Kushiban wasn’t fast enough,

Zap! she felt the shock.

”Kark!!” she yelled in pain as she stumbled backwards. The shock caused all her fur to stand up straight, making her look like a fluffy ball of hair. ”Look what you did!” Wenet snapped and swung her rifle to her back. She grabbed her lightsaber and switched it on. With a loud crackle and a humm the blue blade ignited.

Crimson feathers lit in a golden glow rose sharply in surprise, twitching to the mechanical undertones from the man as the squelch of liquid splattered the floor. Flyndt tightened his grip on his weapon as Eevie landed beside him after withdrawing her blade. But it was when another foreign voice spoke up that his blood curled.

The Collective.

The image of Foxen collapsed onto his knees with the three pillars cut into his body multiple times, his hand bloody and finger missing, all came to mind. Of him landing at his side and screaming at those soldiers before Minnow unleashed her shuttle’s fury. Sunset orbs narrowed as the avian man was overcome with rage just shy of screaming for them to ‘Come at him!’

And surged forward the cyborg did.

Not for him, however.

The man tried striking the mandalorian woman who deflected it and instead of striking the Omwati, he crossed the open smokey space to strike Wenet. Seeing the Kushiban take the blow, Flyndt started surging forward to intercept when the soldier locked eyes on him next.

Move now!

He exhaled sharply and swiftly knocked the blow aside in a small circular motion. The orange blew arced in a quick chop afterwards, the countering blow cutting the staff in two with sparks dying as components severed.

But the cyborg pushes past him and continued their tech amplified assault. His next target:

“Foxen!”

“Foxen!”

That was the music that moved him. That voice, that answer and warning and command all at once.

He moved, throwing himself sideways in a roll off the spent grenade, landing on his back, rolling his weight back onto his shoulders, and then throwing his legs up and out even as he planted both palms and pushed off. The massive Nautolan kipped back onto his feet in a practiced martial maneuver that should have been impossible for someone with his bulk, moving like the shark he was in deep water, fluid and furious. Two broken halves of a metal stave crashed down into the spot he’d been, their electric, paralyzing bite defanged thanks to his Omwati, and before the enemy could even finish uncurling from his blow, Foxen was on him.

The Mandalorian went for a grapple, not confident in exactly what would kill the fraker when being harpooned at rocket speeds by a spear and losing copious amounts of blood/oil/cyborg fluid hadn’t. But he could damn well give Flyndt or one of the others a chance to decapitate it by holding it still. Girder-thick arms wrapped around the cyborg, and for a moment, he did hold on, greater might even against machine evident; but slippery with its own vicious fluids, the enemy managed to wrench out of his grasp, staggering free. A growl left the Nautolan-Chagrin hybrid, backing towards his mate while smoke curled around them, the holographic and computers behind, armed enemy in front. He angled to the side, keeping both sets of foes in sightlines, trusting Flyndt by his side.

As Cyborg unleashed his almost invisible movements to attack and kill all of the members, Archian was standing stunted. He couldn’t comprehend how creation like this can possess that much power. All these unnerving facts disabled him to maneuver or prepare for any attack from it. Shistavanen had almost no chance of noticing the steps of the Cyborg. Only military training provided by the Brotherhood and long times spent on survival in the jungle led him to reach for his Riot Shield at the moment of the hit. His body had moved backwards from the power and force of the Cyborg. Crack! The Shield showed the split from the top, passing through the middle to the bottom, exposing the metallic eye of the enemy staring at him. Cyborg disappeared immediately,leaving him with a broken, and useless piece of equipment. “Fang it! Now I need to buy a new one!” Archian grumbled, throwing it at the floor and reaching for the next arrow.

Aylin saw the cyborg barrel towards her. It had already gone past the others and now he probably thought she was an easy target, seeing she only had a puny pistol and no armour. Lucky for her, her instincts kicked in and she dove out of the way. As she rolled she tried to shoot the bastard in the back, but in the process lost her hold on the pistol.

“Kark!”

The sound is a whip crack.

The sound is buzzing electricity.

The sound is Flyndt’s choked screech of pain made low by construction.

Everything is red.

Pistol and knife fell from hands. He lunged for his mate, and briefly, the memory supplies: a sandy floor, a screaming arena, a shock collar, the same intent to save ending in a crunch and an avian shriek of agony, fear, stabbing in his chest far worse a death blow than the blade lodged through sternum. But the red washes over it, burns it out, empties to ash. There isn’t room here for trauma or mistakes. There is only freeing his mate.

And ripping apart the thing hurting him.

Heavily scarred black fingers curl under the crackling edges of metal, oh so very delicate of damaged, precious inked skin and trachea beneath. The knuckles are gentle brushes. The grip is vicious. The whip bites into his palms and he does not feel it or the shock pulsing through him, frying skin. It’s irrelevant.

He pulls, wrenching the whip wide of and free from Flyndt’s throat, muscles straining and veins popping under skin as metal whines, lifting it off. Then, still gripping the burning tether, red eyes snap to its origin, sheer murder scrawled across the face.

He pulls, singleminded with red red red. The mind is silent. The mind is screaming.

The one who hurt Flyndt flies towards him, lifted off his feet by his own grip on the weapon. Foxen has him in his hands, on the ground, the whip caught between them and still crackling. The body doesn’t feel it.

It feels the jaws opening, the crushing clench, the jagged pain of breaking and splintering platisteel and leather driving into the gums, tongue, cheek. It feels flesh. Blood.

Red.

With a whole-body jerk and shake, back and neck and shoulders, Foxen rips free, spits, and bites again with a wet, hissing snarl.

And again.

Again.

The red underneath from the body can’t spread fast enough.

Duck, Senya–

The warning came too late, or more accurately Flyndt heard it too late. The pale orange light faint in his mind disrupted by a crack and thick cord wrapping round his throat. A heavy and persistent jolt burned through his limbs, tensing muscle and locking limbs. He could not even hear his own choked breath as electricity coursed through him.

A pressure at his throat, pushing between skin and woven cord. Then a yank, and suddenly Flyndt found himself stumbling onto his arms and knees, gasping. It felt like fire had seared every muscle, joints buckling as he pushed himself off of sand dusted floors too similar to there. He braced expectantly, for the next shock or rough hands but none came.

He was not there.

Leather-clad and bare olive fingers curled around the crafted pole of his saber, the orange blade dissipated when his grip left it. His heartbeat pounded behind his ears and the tinge of black slowly cleared from his vision as he pushed himself into a crouch off of a planted fist.

Foxen.

‘Shreee’, whistled called the omwati as he twisted in search of the Nautolan. His gaze fell on the tearing sounds behind him, pieces of what happened falling into place as he backed up to press against the larger man. He was shaking, nerves all haywire, skin crawling, not safe here.

Cornered.

He felt like a caged and cornered animal yet again. And as his saber relit its blaze with a series of short rhythmic clicks, Flyndt planted himself coiled there, ready to lash out at anyone or anything that came to threaten him and his.

“Do you realize how long I painted this Shield?” Shistavanen was still mourning the lost piece of equipment. He was angry, bloody angry… “Fang you!” He lifted a bow, let go an arrow straight at the soldier standing opposite to him. The blade reached the body, cutting through a Subclavian vein at the shoulder. Red liquid started to show up, making its way to the floor, enemy’s eyes fogging from the loss of blood, and knees letting go. Body was now at the floor, and Archian took a deep breath full of gore scent.

Still looking like a white fuzz ball, Wenet watched the scene unfold. She had to do something, but what? Then she remembered she still had a flash generate. “What if?” she thought to herself, and without wasting more time she made a run for it.

Amplified with the Force she was faster than normal as she crossed the room. She attempted to dodge any incoming fire as she tried to get closer to the droidekas. But in her haste she tripped “Kark!” and slid across the floor towards her target but at the last moment she release the flash generate. It rolled over the floor to the droid in the middle, Wenet hoped it wasn’t going to fast or it would simply bounce off their shield. But if it was slow enough it could pass right through, or so she believed.

A flash of light dying in his peripheral pulled Flyndt’s attention to the Droidekas. A low whistle escaped him as he exhaled sharply between his teeth-like beak. His gaze switched between the droids and the still standing cyborg, muscles coiled and ready to attack and defend. When the spherical machine raised its blaster cannons and pivoted to aim towards Foxen, Flyndt moved.

The Omwati vaulted over the Nautolan’s back, landed with planted feet on the other side of him and the fallen corpse, and faced a salvo of blaster bolts. Orange plasma arced and jabbed through the air, dissipating and deflecting crimson bolts. But there were too many, too many for his style of fighting to contend. Flyndt was knocked off his feet, landing in a thud. A sharp burning pain spread from his hip and caused him to double over with a groan of pain. His hand pressed to the wound, his layers of scarves each scorched and burnt through. It had struck along his pelvic bone and hurt like a son of a crag, but he could grit his teeth and push through it.

Seconds was all it took. The familiar, barely there weight of Flyndt leaping off and over his back, the Omwati landing before him and the chamber-click of a droideka arm cannon. Orange plasma spun, Flyndt a flurry, a furious ghost on the plains, batting aside and catching a barrage of bolts. But in seconds, too many, even for all that.

Flyndt went down, knocked back by the sheer force of the shot, the stench of burnt flesh and cloth – NOT. HIS. CLOTHES. part of the mind roars in defiance of reality – filling the air between them.

Foxen was over him in a moment, one bloodied, burnt hand pressing over Flyndt’s own, further protecting the wound, while the other cradled him up to his body, back to chest, and carried him back away from the machines, if only the meter or so that could be managed in the few heartbeats between blasterfire. The Nautolan turned to put his back and shoulder to the droids, trying to shield his partner.

Seconds more was enough.

Another chambering clatter, another salvo, this next to the original. The Mandalorian lifted his arm again, trading protection for the second hold on the wound, and angled his vambrace expertly to catch the shots in several quick motions. Each impact drove his shoulder back, but he held with gritted, bloody teeth in need of flossing, bearing the brunt and the burning splashes of heat but managing to block the bolts.

Aylin hurried between all the shots and other things thrown towards the consoles. The man on the holo was seeing to much and she was sure she was going to get his location figured out somehow.

“Come Siky, time to get some disturbing things bombarded towards him.”

Her little droid beeped happily and plugged itself into the system, it’s little antenna wiggling as the connection got up.

“Good, go ahead!”

With that the droid started to send millions of links, data and other connection requests towards the sender of the holovideo while she was trying to track down the location of him. Sadly she was running into security things and she got only so far when trying to locate him.

“Frak, I need more time to get his location figured out, hope you can keep them of our backs.”

Thinking that she saw an opening, Eevie raised her left arm, a fibercord grappling hook launching towards the cyborg. Unfortunately for the Mandalorian, he grapped the hook end and pulled her towards him, and put the Sephi off balance. With her Baskad in hand, she tied to slash the enemy while being pulled, but he knocked the blade out of the way, and puched her in her face. Fortunately fo her, she was wearing a Beskar helmet which protected her from the blow. She was still knocked off of her feet, and was rattled by the blow.

The leader continued to pummel the fallen Mandalorian with blows, and while her armor mostly protected her, she still felt the blows. She would certainly be feeling the bruises after this.

The fight raged on as Flyndt caught his breath, gaze staring up at Foxen as crimson bolts rained around them and the Nautolan blocked several of them. With a groan, he shifted back onto his feet and kept low, crouched on the balls of his feet. Sanguine eyes full of rage and fire tempered softly with only one concern as they met his sunset.

‘O.K.?’

Flyndt nodded and adjusted his grip on his pike, “Yeah, fine. I still can fight – watch out!”

Chrome blaster cannons rotated and clicked, the telltale signs of yet another of the Droidekas lining up a salvo of shots. The Omwati moved to roll out of the way but he was not fast enough and the pain burning hot on his hip slowed him more.

Yeah. Can still fight.

O.K. Confirm–

“Watch out!”

Foxen heard the clicks, the turning of metal body and clack of pincer-like leg appendages. Flyndt moved–

Thank you, ner vercopa.

–so Foxen didn’t.

The massive Nautolan held his ground, not dodging but rather adjusting his body to account for Flyndt’s trajectory and providing full cover for the Omwati. His arm came up again in a guard with the beskar bracer, held in front of his head/neck in an attempt to block 62% of instantly fatal damages.

Plasma sprayed.

Holes burnt right through flesh/skin/leathers, secondary melting of the material to the body causing burns more painful than the initial bite of the shots, which were too hot to even be pain. Simply instant nerve cauterization on contact. At least, right at the wound edges. As soon as his muscles twitched, each one only tore open and bled freely around the burns, as blaster shots tended to.

Foxen went silent, then, not a growl or hiss more, needing to focus on ignoring the pain. He remained a solid, looming wall between Flyndt and the droidekas, but knew from the body’s respirations/heartbeat/general damage that acting as a shield would not be an effective tactic any longer. He would become a liability soon.

Action required.

The Mandalorian’s empty hand fell to his belt, gripping the EMP grenade there, red eyes flicking to his partner, a voiceless, OK?

While Cyborg’s shadow was barely visible with his enhanced high speed, Archian tried to focus on him to trace its movements but it was almost impossible. Shistavanen was leaning forward more and more to gain at least some knowledge, and learn steps of the half mechanical opponent, but it was too much. While his head was positioned far more forward than it should, the enemy made a decision to hit. Before blink of the eye the shadow of it was already in the air, falling forward - straightening forward its arm for the downfalling punch in the Red’s side of the head. Furry medic tried to spread his arms forward to catch and push the enemy away, but the cybernetic arm reached a gap between clawed paws.

“Fan…” Archian didn’t finish his word when the hit was made. Supported with a metallic frame and enhanced with Force strength affected Shistavanen’s body with flight to his side, and landing at the iron barrier of the wall - bending it to inside. Red fell to the floor with body leaning forward, almost losing consciousness, and blood coming from his wolf-like nose.

After the flash grenate went off, Wenet got back onto her feet. Listening to the droid’s response, she knew they had issues with their optical sensors, not the effect she had hoped for but an effect nonetheless. “note to self, next time bring more explosives” she muttered as she firmed her grip on her lightsaber.

From the corner of her eyes she then noticed the cyborg coming at her once more. “Kark!” she jumped up on the last moment, before the broken staff hit her. Instead it hit the floor and Wenet landed on the cyborg’s arm. Keeping her balance she ran up to his shoulder and then jumped off. She did a corkscrew in midair before landing again, behind the cyborg.

Aylin was working hard on getting a location from the console when she saw from the corner of her eye that shots had been fired towards her. She was quick to move and by a lot of luck evade the shots that had been fired at her.

“Hey! I don’t like to end up as cheese!” she yelled at the droid, only to earn more shots fired towards her, which she evaded as well.

“Gah! Stop it!” she scolded and tried to get back to work, praying that the kept missing the console as well.

Eyes still more on Flyndt than the battle and their various comrades falling or dodging around them, Foxen assessed the scene quickly, then gripped the grenade in his hand. He thumbed the activator and rolled it towards the droideka trio, having to be careful of their shields.

His aim was off, but the EMP didn’t need to be well-aimed to activate. There was no visual fanfare, just a pulse, and the shields of the droids flickering partially, not dropping but wavering as if damaged.

O.K?

O.K?

Was he O.K.?

Foxen was asking HIM?

Flyndt’s eyes stared unblinking, glued and frozen simultaneously at the Nautolan. He could not see the wounds from his prone position, but it took him one-point-seven seconds to realize that the salvo did not merely flew overhead but into the wall his partner formed with his own body.

“Puhta! Manan ála levnë?!”

He had snapped in fearful concern turned anger. His crimson feathers flared full like wild fire, the tie lost in the conflict. Why did he not move?! Tracking Foxen’s gaze back to the droid that assaulted them, Flyndt too turned his focus and ire upon them.

Pulling himself abruptly to his feet with a sharp hiss from pain set to ignore, the Omwati grabbed his pole arm and surged forward. He pulled aggressively at the Force flowing around them, tearing light and shadow towards him into a veil from both organic and visual sensors, disappearing.

The clanks of metal legs rhythmically sounded as the Droideka pivoted and shifted, attempting to relocate one of its marked targets. Its blaster cannon clicked and hissed as chambers prepped to fire again. Its shield flickered and with it a shimmer emerged, shedding the woven cloak as Flyndt slowly drove the saberpike into the protected core. Sparks arced from malfunctioning metallic joints, while the orange plasma blade burned through. A second later the droideka’s shield fell, and a moment later its legs collapsed, destroyed with Flyndt standing beside its metal carcass.

Archian, still with a huge headache after a punch into his snout, and slow bleeding from his nostrils, grabbed his whip while still kneeling at the floor close to the dent in the iron barrier. He spread the whip, and locked his eyes on Cyborg. He made the arm move, whips end flying away, and enemy’s robotic legs running away from it. Whip fell to the floor, like a dead snake which lost its head. Archian’s frustration started to grow more…

After landing behind the cyborg, Wenet watched how Archian tried to use his whip on it. Unfortunately it was not with much success, but it did create a brief distraction and the young Kushiban was going to take advantage of it.

With he lightsaber in hand she darted forward and sprinted towards the cyborg as fast as she could and fast she was. At the last moment she dropped to the floor. In an attempt to cripple the towering Cyborg, she slid between its legs and slashed the blue blade of her saber at its ankles. The moment she was free of the leader she rolled and hopped back onto her feet. She wrinkled her nose when she picked up the scent “something is burning” she chuckled. Ofcourse she had hoped her saber would have cut right through, but instead it did cause a third degree burn that limited his movement..

Aylin was furiously typing away on the console. She didn’t notice that another droid had taken aim at her and hit her full on her chest. The hit had made her fall over and hit the floor. Siky beeped in surprise.

“Ugh! That hurts!” She wailed as she held her chest, lucky to be still alive. “Yes, I’m fine, Siky… sort off.”

She crawled back towards the console, wincing in pain and glanced around to see if she could continue her slicing into the system again to get the bastards location, cause he was up for one hell of a glitter attack if it was her choice.

Eevie was on the ground, she felt the blows the cyborg had dealt, even through her Beskar amor. The Sephi knew this fight was taking too long, and now it was personal. Slowly she moved to get up from her beating, and she saw Wenet injure the cyborg, just as a droideka dealt a devasting hit to Aylin. The Sephi felt her rage intensifying, but she knew better than to let it overtake her. Her sword had been knocked out of her hands, so she grabbed the Westar from its holster. With its firepower maximized, she wanted to end this farce.

“Darlin, you messed up. There’s only one man allowed to touch me, and you ain’t him.”

Aiming her blaster, the Mandalorian pulled the trigger. The bolt sailed out at top speeds and tore through the cyborg’s chest. Burnt flesh and smoking wires were all that remained on her target. The cyborg’s left lung had been destroyed, and she knew, his battery was almost out.

“Now, who’s next?”

Walking towards the leader Eevie had her suits AI begin scanning the downed cyborg. He had indeed started a self destruct sequencing and they needed to get out, ASAP.

As the suit finished scanned over what it could find, Eevie simply pushed the weezimg body over with her boot. Then turning towards the others ran to help them in their escape.

Flyndt pulled his saberpike from the collapsed body of the Droideka, panting. Through the electrical smelling smoke and sparks, he caught the shot that tore into the cyborg leader of their foes, watched him fall to his knees and proclaim he had set himself to explode. His heart thumping in his throat, the Omwati searched the room for Foxen.

There! Still standing despite his wounds.

He ducked beneath the blaster cannon of the Droideka pivoting to aim at him, and ran for the Nautolan. He jumped over droid parts and bodies before sliding to a halt at the table in the center of the room. To his right in his peripheral, Flyndt spotted Aylin hunched on the ground. Several heart beats passed and he was surging forward with the Force swelling in his muscles, strengthening his arms and legs despite the pain in his hip.

“Come, I got you!” Flyndt urged the Nautolan woman as he slipped her arm over his shoulders and hoisted. He glanced back and whistled at her small droid, “Come, Siky!”

She hissed in pain as she grabbed her tools and datapad from the console before she would be out of reach.

“Data bombard them, Siky, override everything!… See you on the table…”

Her little droid beeped and nodded, going back to work.

“Let’s go, he will stall them further… I’ll rebuild him… His consciousness is saved.” She said between pains as they moved away from impending doom.

Explosion.

De-fraking-ny.

Red eyes homed in on home, beautiful and bloodied and rising from the wreckage of a droideka; satisfaction that Flyndt is already searching for him right back, running to him.

Displeasure that he diverts to help the other Nautolan.

DENY.

NO.

FLYNDT.

ESCAPE PRIORITY.

Yes, mission, he agrees, baring teeth in effort/sigh as he pivots and breaks into full sprint, but the mental tone is adoring. But Flyndt is good.

CONFIRM

Which means Flyndt will stop to help wounded allies. Even with a gut wound and impending fiery demise.

ASSIST.

Confirm.

Foxen crossed the distance in 6.4 seconds – too long, movement speed inferior, body compromised – thanks to their paths intercepting. He reached out, but the arm malfunctions, tendons somewhere in the deltoideus/flexor carpi radialus region inconveniently severed by massive blaster holes and tight with deep tissue burn.

Adjust: one arm.

Assess: distance/heft/angle.

Calculate trajectory/power.

However: he knows what Flyndt would want him to do. Knows the more logical path, despite every fiber of being screaming to take his hurt mate and run.

- Adjust calculations.

Move.

Fly, was all he signed to his partner, indicating plan when seconds were all they had. The tightness around sunset eyes was all that spoke of pain in that determined olive and ink warrior’s visage. They followed his hand, then met his gaze with firm nod and trust.

“Throw me.”

The massive Nautolan hybrid grabbed up his feather light partner, hooking arm under both of his and hating the way it would pull at the wound. He hefted and spun, tossing Flyndt up like a hammer towards the exit. The Omwati arced through the air, far lighter than he seemed, clothing flapping like so many wings, feathers streaming briefly bad behind him. He practically floated down and into a forward roll, springing back up with a hidden flinch and spiriting out the doors.

Then Foxen ducked and hefted the smaller amphibian over his shoulder like a sack and ran too, quickly gaining over the Archian crawling out and the victorious Erinos and the fast-springing Wenet.

While still at the metal floor, Shistavanen reached to the side of his threads and took the EMP grenade out. With pain in his head, and still on the knees he made the loose backward move of his arm and let explosives start to roll at Droideka following them. When droids and EMP reached each other,and Foxen threw Flyndt out to the main gate - the first wave of explosion erupted, disabling the last of the druid’s protective shields. When the second wave had started droids had lost all of their visual assets and the darkening image of the Foxen with Aylin at his shoulder passing through the main gate - they started to move chaotically in every direction and stroke each other. When the third wave erupted Erinos and Wenet were almost at the exit, Archian was crawling at the three limbs for his survival closer and closer to them - the mechanical opponents totally stopped from the damage done to them by EMP, and sparking from the disabled, overheated parts. Shistavanen only smirked through the pain from small satisfaction while own blood from nostrils was slowly dropping to his mouth.

Piloting with one arm is a bitch and a half, and even strong enough to manage the yoke that way, Foxen is not looking forward to it.

For once, circumstances favor: he doesn’t have to. The Brotherhood forces deploy quickly once the shield is offline, obliterating the droid ship swarm and their landing/the central explosion seeming to discourage any surviving hired lackeys from actively shooting them all to death while they recover outside on the ground.

The others exist, even the animals returned to Archian, but he does not acknowledge them. Foxen’s only priority is Flyndt.

They move off on their own, even when medical assistance arrives for the others. Standard glares from them both and bristling crest feathers seem to suffice in saying no. Foxen acquiesces to leaning partially against a rock, but pushes the bacta at Flyndt’s wounded hip first.

“Chikk'dikk,” his bird all but growls at him, an angry, upset brrrrt. The Nautolan smiles at it

You asked why earlier, he signs very slowly after together they treat and wrap Flyndt’s abdominal area, passing the bandages back and forth around his hips, Foxen’s massive, scarred black fingers gentle rubbing in the healing gel. You know.

The Omwati clicks his beak at him, orders sharply, “Stop moving. Make it worse.”

- “Hmm,” the Nautolan hums back, and dutifully holds still, watching his partner crackle and clack with upset noises while his face, to any other fool sentient, would seen impassive. They don’t really have enough bacta for this even between both their kits. Medical attention will be required at the house. Contacting Sivall, likely. Nonetheless Flyndt takes tender care of the worst, his birth marked brow visibly upset when wrapping the deeper wounds and only able to patch up most. Foxen catches his hand with his usable one when he’s as done as he can be – they run out of bandages too before total coverage – and presses his lips to it, then his cheek, then sets it over his heart.

We’re alive, that says. Their hands make a shape that Flyndt can complete: I love you.

They’ll talk about it. The whip. The electricity. The burns and protective rage. The lightsaber.

But later. Home, with each other. <@244244400488710155>