Bread Crumbs

[Razelle Breuner]

Nar Shaddaa, Lost somewhere in the markets
Crowds were the safest possible place to be. The likeliness that anyone would personally interact with you decreased exponentially with the number of people around you. By the thirty to forty mark, anonymity was almost guaranteed. When Razelle had first run from...when she had first started running, she made a point of sticking to extremely public places. For months, actually, she stayed in the most public planets in the galaxy. Coruscant, Taris...only immense city worlds would do. Fade into the crowd. If she had immediately set a course for a nowhere planet, it might have left a trail.

In six months, any "trail" that she had left would have been long dead.

Now, she was back. Midvinter had been good to her, forcing her to live on her wits and asking nothing in return. Too much time apart from the rest of the galaxy, though, had dulled her mind like a dusty blade. Instincts that had been second nature to her had started wearing down, and she was simply less than she had ever been. Especially less than she had been with... So now, she was on Nar Shaddaa. Back to the basics. Teaching herself everything she had learned a lifetime ago, all over again.

Step one: how to intentionally manipulate someone's perceptions in order to present a scenario in which they will be open to a favorable change. Or, without Imperial Intelligence jargon...how to lie in a way that you can squeeze a benefit from it. Nar Shaddaa was like I.I. boot camp all over again, only without the safety nets or the facade of patriotism. Liars and murderers, lying and murdering for their own selfish benefit. It was the best possible planet for Raz to get a hang of her old training.

For example, shouting angrily in Huttese using an affected accent while trying to negotiate some black market military-grade light absorption material. <I don't care whose stockpiles you lifted this crap from, a five-figure number is hyperlane robbery!>

The remarkably eloquent Talz behind the counter only got more upset as Raz mirrored his reactions. <And I don't care how many people you killed to get here, my prices are final! You either buy or you get out of my store!>

It was pretty telling that a huge white monster screaming and flailing its immense and muscular arms in her face didn't even make Razelle flinch. She was capable of fear. She felt fear constantly, and in unhealthy amounts. But this? The only reason her pulse had sped up was because of her shouting. Her green eyes narrowed into a glare for a few seconds, then she turned and barked at the young woman on the other side of the shop, looking at knives.

<Athycka! We're leaving!> She didn't even wait for a response before storming out of the store.

 

[Fable Merrill]

Fable was only half-paying attention to the knives. It wasn't that they weren't compelling, because they totally were. She was just waiting for a fight to break out, where she'd have to intercede to help her girlfriend not be taken out by potential store security, or prevent her from possibly murdering a rude clerk. In a reasonable world, those weren't very likely scenarios, but Fable didn't live in a reasonable world.

More random violence erupted around/because of her in a month than most people would believe.

Even so, she wasn't used to the more subtle requirements of Razelle's lifestyle - the spy/thief/assassin/whatever that Razelle was had insisted on calling Fable by a different name in public every time she used a name to call her, and Fable still wasn't used to it. There was a significant delay as Fable tried to figure out if 'Athycka' was a Huttese word she simply wasn't familiar with (even though she was confident she knew all the curse words by now) and watched in mild confusion as Razelle stormed out. Then it clicked.

Fable bounded for the door, stopped short at one step from being outside, then ran back to the counter... pointing down into the glassteel display. <...how much for that one?>

Fable caught up to Secret Agent: Girlfriend, clipping the midrange bowie knife she'd just purchased to her belt. Giving Raz a slightly wide-eyed look that some might mistake for bewilderment had they not known 'slight surprise' to be Fable's default out-of-combat setting, she decided to choose her words carefully. Just in case the blonde was still upset.

"Hey, you ever notice how the really cool looking weapons are usually the absolute worst?" She asked cheerfully. This was the deep, philosophical pondering that'd occupied her while Razelle had been haggling. "Like those circles with, like, five cheap switchblades that pop off of them - pretty cool looking, but you'd likely just end up cutting up your hand if you tried to actually use one." Fable elaborated.

It occurred to Fable to ask if she maybe shouldn't have used her own credit chit to buy her new toy, in lieu of something untraceable, but that was silly. They were looking for [member="Razelle Breuner"], (whoever THEY were) and not Fable Merrill/Caromed. Besides, she'd signed her receipt with the fake name she used whenever she needed a fake name, which was hardly ever. Nobody was looking for 'Kristin Merrill', right?

 

[Razelle Breuner]

Now that she was far enough from the shop to relax a bit, Raz turned to her left and offered a bemused little grin. "That's because they're very sharp toys. Threatening or cool-looking weapons are almost invariably designed for aesthetics first and function second." Her hand slipped to her belt in what had to be an almost reflexive movement by now, pulling up her simple combat knife in a rather dangerous-looking flourish. "Generally, the simpler the weapon, the more useful it'll be in an actual fight." One more twist and her knife was back in her leg sheath. "There are some outliers."

So the Talz had sold to [member="Fable Merrill"], even though Raz herself had raised a huge stink and not actually spent any credits. Did that make him reasonable, or just greedy? Neither one would likely change whether or not she killed him and stole his Reflec tonight, of course, but she might feel a little bad if he was just a decent guy and she was haggling too aggressively. Totally plausible. She was out of practice. She'd need to get back into the rhythm of reading and manipulating people before she could pull off things that expensive.

"So, your astrogation computer showed that you'd been here a few times," the flaxen woman mentioned off-handedly, as if it was totally expected for someone to nose through jump history without giving your partner knowledge of it and while they were asleep. "Got any arms dealers on your list of potential contacts? I haven't had anyone's ear in...a long time." As if it was- actually, no. It was totally normal to talk to your sex buddy about potential black market weapons-grade hardware on Nar Shaddaa. That was totally acceptable.

This world was just made for Raz. Why had she even left?

 

[Fable Merrill]

In truth, Fable's purchase hadn't illuminated any haggling proclivities, aside from her lack of them; she'd merrily paid ticket price. Although the use of knives and other such weaponry was within her limited scope of experience, Fable simply nodded and smiled as Razelle explained how embellishment usually had an inverse relationship with functionality as though this were news to her. She wasn't so much as humoring Razelle as she was avoiding the part of the conversation where she reminded her partner that she knew things about stuff.

Just like she wouldn't confront her for going through her travel history.

"I actually don't." She apologized, clasping her hands behind her back. Of the many things she did on Nar Shaddaa, buying guns - illegal or otherwise - wasn't one of them. In fact, she'd owned the same blaster pistol for half her life. It was serviced and tested regularly, of course. Fable had a way of latching onto things. Her ever-present leather coat was made by the same company Rave had once owned, as were her boots. Change was unnecessary.

Scratching her arm, Fable pondered a moment. "It's possible that a few people in that business hung out at Wrexsou's club, but I try to avoid interacting with customers." She admitted. Usually, they only wanted to talk to her to see if her fights came with a 'happy ending' so to speak, or to try and pressure her in some way to increase the security of a bet on the next match. She'd been asked to take many dives in her career, hadn't done it yet. Wasn't worth the money.

Besides. Fatallica was a heel - if she wasn't a threat, faces wouldn't be lining up to have a go at her.

 

[Razelle Breuner]

The Talz had plenty of Reflec in his stockroom. There was no "police" on Nar Shaddaa, and Raz wasn't big enough to be a physical threat, so she had managed to get visual confirmation of it before she had agreed to start haggling. That was one down. Whether she negotiated for it, stole it, or killed him and sacked his shop, she'd be able to get that material. Useful in all sorts of stuff. What she needed was a source that she hadn't tainted yet to pick up the rest of what she wanted. Multiple buyers made it harder to trace, or figure out what she was doing.

Which meant she needed every resource she could get. Keep the conversation going. "Wrexsou's the guy who runs the tittie-fighter thing, right?" It had probably come up at some point while they were talking. Or something. Raz had once stabbed a guy while wearing a maid costume. She wasn't going to judge. "I might need to make an appearance there, if you can point me towards someone who might be have what I need."

It occurred to Razelle that she needed to voice her requirements. "I'm expecting company. This isn't to say that I think anyone knows where I am, or that more than a few people even know that I exist. It's just that you have to prepare for someone to come for you, even if they never do. It's better to have a set of anti-scanner armorplast shadowskin armor and not need it, then to need it and not have it." Quick, you idiot. Speak louder, so everyone can hear. "So I need someone who can supply armorplast and a forge so I can alloy it properly."

Alloy it with...what? Well, that Reflec that she didn't have yet. These were leaps in logic that Raz half-expected Fable to make, and half-didn't care if she understood or not. Cute girl. Could use some help. She'd owe her one helluva favor, or something. Right now, she was helping her, by teaching her how to stay alive in a galaxy that had about six trillion ways to kill you every morning.

 

[Fable Merrill]

The unflattering description of her favorite sport made Fable wrinkle her nose in distaste, but even she wasn't dense enough to believe that most of the people who watched her fights were in it for the showcasing of technical skill and athleticism. If that'd been the case, her outfit would be more than a mask, booty shorts and pasties.

"The place is actually owned by a woman named Fiona, last I checked. Won it from Wrexsou in a sabacc game years ago." Fable explained, pulling her cap down a bit (maximum disguise) before sliding her hands into her pockets. "I can get us in, easy - I'm friends with the bouncers. Dunno if the people there are gonna be the sorts you're looking for, but they always seemed pretty rich and sketchy to me." She offered with a slight shrug.

Personally, she felt that Razelle was going a bit overboard for personal defense, but who knew? Maybe she had some legitimate huge threat to be worried about. If that was the case, Fable liked to think that she'd be given more information, but she didn't really expect that to happen, nor was she really sure she'd change anything about her habits with the warning.

Even so, Razelle's business and Fable's part in it was as nebulous as the status as a couple at times - and both fell under the category of 'things Fable doesn't want to bring up, just in case it's bad news'. But then, if she trusted Razelle the way she expected Razelle to trust her, she would have pointed out by now that between her mothers, Fable likely had more than enough contacts and resources to handle any problem Raz might have. Or, perhaps, she would have explained to the blonde that she was a Mandalorian at all. But she hadn't, nor had she told her mothers that she was seeing someone.

They'd want to meet her, and Fable didn't think of Razelle as the sort of woman you brought home to see mom and mom.

 

[Razelle Breuner]

It was difficult to tell when Fable was nervous or upset. Maybe that was because Razelle was out of practice, or maybe it was because Fable was very frequently upset. It was likely a combination of both. Empathic reading of others' emotional states was vitally important to someone who lied for a living, and whether it was her own failing or Fable's unique qualities that made this difficult for her, Raz needed to use this opportunity to sharpen her skills again. Conveniently, they were some of the very same skills that were useful in being a girlfriend.

"Hey," she started, her lips curling into a muted smile. "What's on your mind, kitten?"

She had an indefinite amount of time to get her gear sorted out and build her contact list again. Fable, on the other hand, had a very finite amount of time before she started to get ideas about what a relationship was, or how people acted in one. Poor girl was...special. Not mentally deficient, but of a unique mindset which didn't operate on the same wavelength as normal people. If she had a bad experience with her first partner, it could ruin her whole life. She was a sweet girl. It'd be horrible to force that on her. And also that would mean Raz would have to remove her from her booty call list.

"I'm sorry about the comment on your MMA stuff," she offered during a moment of silence. "I've seen you fight. You go for blood. It's obviously not just combat stripping. That was uncalled for." It wasn't, really, but it was probably taken wrong. Raz didn't like what she said being taken in the wrong light. It was a habit from years of manipulating people's expectations. She didn't want to let Fable think she held a low opinion of what she did just because it involved dressing like a lingerie model.

 

[Fable Merrill]

Fable removed a hand from her pocket just long enough to wave the comment off with a slightly amused pursing of her lips that was lifted almost directly from the expression repertoire of Lynn Caromed. "It's only not combat stripping because we come out and leave with the same amount of clothes on: hardly any." Fable admitted with a sheepish smirk. She might be above taking a dive in the ring, but Fable had yet to encounter an opinion or discussion she couldn't nod, smile, and agree her way out of. Conversation remained something she was uncomfortable with most of the time, especially when it involved standing up for herself - her least favorite almost-person in the Galaxy.

Fable was far from the sharpest mind around, even when it came to things she was actually fairly bright at, like beating people up. While she did possess a sort of low cunning not unlike the selfless attack dog she'd been conditioned to become, she frequently struggled with nuance and indecision, especially when there wasn't a clear right or wrong choice. Doubly so when that choice didn't involve fisticuffs. To her credit, though, Fable was well aware of her shortcomings, and dimly aware of how dim people tended to think she was.

And she wasn't above using that knowledge to her advantage.

Fable took Razelle's arm and smiled blithely. A 'just glad to be with you' smile, because she really was. If Fable thought Razelle was being paranoid, it must be because Razelle knew something Fable - in her infinite flaws - did not. Bringing up that she felt guilty fire hiding the blonde's existence from the women she shared everything with simply wasn't important enough to ruin a day that already had more than enough opportunity for things to go wrong. "We might have to take the transport to Wrexsou's. It's been months since I was last there, I'm not really sure where it is!" She admitted cheerfully. "Do you think you'll be able to find the people you need when I get you in?"

 

[Razelle Breuner]

Right. Definitely girlfriending, then. They'd have to have a talk about that when they got back to Fable's ship. Razelle was experiencing the negative aspects of one of her minor flaws: going easier on people when she had an emotional attachment to them. In the case of any other pretty face in the galaxy, she might have just used Fable for all she was worth then dumped her, either emotionally or physically. The pitiful creature holding her arm like a prom date was too adorable, too endearing to hurt. Like a wimpering puppy.

Looong talk.

"I'm pretty self-sufficient," she responded simply, following her companion's lead towards Fable's...dubiously reputable place of occasional employ. But she needed to keep the conversation focused on things that mattered, not things that she could quantify and react to. "Have you ever considered going professional? Like...ring fighting is a thing on just about every world. Chances are there are some less humiliating ways to make a name for yourself out there, even on this planet." Maybe not more legitimate, but more respectable. Raz wasn't exactly looking forward to putting on a bunny suit to be able to step into the ring with Fable, after all.

Though...to be frank, she'd done worse. And she could use the money, at this point, if she didn't want to start leaving a trail of bodies every time she wanted something expensive. Being able to afford that Reflec without potentially widowing some poor Talz woman somewhere and also leaving evidence that might suggest that she existed appealed to Razelle just ever so slightly. ...Best not to tell Fable that, though.

 

[Fable Merrill]

"I've considered it." Fable admitted cautiously. "But there's some issues with my legal identity and a lot of places run a blood & background test that could create problems for me." When you didn't technically exist, it was hard to find legitimate with. And when you shared your DNA with a woman who'd destroyed armies of sons and brothers across the galaxy, that turned out to be a blessing in disguise. The last thing she wanted was to be dodging assassins meant for her mom, or to lead assassins to her mom. Better to remain off the books.

Fable bit the corner of her lip for a moment. "Besides. Mainstream shockboxing tends to have loads more rules and regulation. It's less outrageous." She explained, her smile sheepish and a little coy. "I don't care about getting rich. I just like the thrill of it. The challenge." The visceral satisfaction of breaking bone and skin, drawing blood with her knuckles and elbows, too. The moment between finishing an opponent and the bell ringing, when both combatants knew the primal, existential high of a life entirely bested and in the hands of another...

Things she would never say aloud. "The humiliation doesn't bother me." Fable added for good measure. "It's usually just a part of the fun." Whoda thunk that the girl who taught herself to pole dance - even if only in private - had a bit of an exhibitionist streak? Combined with her startlingly low self-esteem in general. "I could make more money and stuff by going professional, but then I'd just be a small fish in a huge pond. Underground, I'm the right-sized fish for a right-sized pond, if that makes sense?"

 

[Razelle Breuner]

Razelle's eyes scanned the aforementioned transport before she even came close, trying to find every possible camera, every possible escape route. Man in the jacket by the second door could be carrying anything short of a heavy rifle. Trandoshan with scars was likely a bounty hunter, though he wasn't actively pretending not to look her way, so he likely wasn't on her case. Three cameras, two in very obvious places and one hidden behind the pilot's belongings. There was no "security" on this planet, so chances are these were mostly for blackmail...meaning they were very high quality and the people who rewatched the footage would prioritize anyone being suspicious. Fable's speaking to you. Keep up your conversation. It's the best way to look like you're not doing anything out of the ordinary.

Raz was only vaguely aware of the irony that if she hadn't been actively trying not to draw attention, she wouldn't have even had a chance of drawing attention.

"Yeah, I get you." Something [member="Fable Merrill"] had said really stuck with Raz, though. Something hit home. "If anyone on this junker can understand issues with identity, Kitten, you're talking to her." She didn't want to go ranting off her life story just yet, so once again she tried the empathetic angle. "Need to talk about it? Trust me, I've got some experience with this." And even more experience running away from it. The irony that Fable was much, much more secure in her identity as a clone than Razelle was seemed to be perfectly lost on both of them.

Pilot has a scattergun magnetized to the underside of his seat. He probably takes cash payments on occasion. Two Twi'lek women towards the front, dressed in silk. High garters with opaque hose. Frilly skirts allow for a large area to conceal weapons. Courtesan assassins...or Companions, actually. Not that Raz thought there was much of a difference. Toydarian in the back isn't armed or malicious, but will not shut up.

This was why she left Nar Shaddaa, now that she thought about it. Hypervigilance was a curse in a big city.

 

[Fable Merrill]

Fable shrugged and spared a glance around at the same crowd Razelle was sizing up. She looked for obvious bulges that indicates hidden weaponry, she looked for familiar faces or glares. Most commonly, though, she was looking for things to react to. Like Razelle, Fable had been trained - or rather, programmed - to react to threats in a timely, efficient manner. But her particular idiom meant relying on her natural physicality and honed skills more than observation and preparation. Fable could analyze an apparent threat with aplomb, but finding a target before it became a threat? Not her bag.

"I think I'll be fine." She decided with a crooked smile, brushing her bangs aside. "Identity is... kind of a touch thing, I guess. Thinking of it as a legal monolith that I've just got to work around helps me." Fable slipped her hand back into her pocket and glanced to one side, sniffing the air.

She paused, sniffed again, then grinned. "Holy crystals,, do you smell that? It's like..." Fable squinted, sniffed. "...funnel cake? Have you ever had it before?" The clone grinned and took Raz's hand in her own. "We should go get some. C'mon, I'll buy."

 

[Razelle Breuner]

A thousand smells and Fable picked out that one. It was actually really impressive just how little she perceived unless it was relevant to her immediate existence. Razelle quietly wished she was so fortunately oblivious, then gave one of her own little smirks and held on just tight enough that she could drop the grip and reach for a weapon if necessary, or suddenly grab Fable and throw her out of the way of a shot/explosion. Not even her dating reflexes could escape her hard-coded paranoia. "Alright then, I'll bite. I haven't had one in...a while."

Plus, it'd give her a chance to get a beer. Not enough alcohol to really affect her judgement, due to her metabolism, but plenty to dull her senses a few octaves. If she didn't see everything, she didn't have to think about everything. Come to think of it, she could probably get her hands on some spice sticks here. That'd help, too. A few kilos of mild drugs in the cargo hold could do wonders to keep her head from hurting from constant overanalysis.

But for now, funnel cake. Several members of the crowd had visible weapons, none were interested in Raz's existence. "Make sure to get two, though. Not that I wouldn't try to share if you asked, but I'm a little hungry." She was always hungry. Metabolism.

Fortunately, by the time they'd decided that, they'd already dismounted their shuttle, and this writer definitely isn't adding that in to retcon the scene and prevent confusion.

 

[Fable Merrill]

A few blissful minutes later, Fable was picking at a plate laden with fried batter and powdered sugar, chatting happily about something relatively innocuous. Really, the clone had been equipped with an impossibly insatiable sweet tooth for most of her life, and this would only sate it's incredible lust for so long. "...so, after that, he made EXTRA sure to look for Ackley sightings before going camping!" Fable laughed cheerfully, wagging her sugared fingers with a grin. "Not that it helped. He-oof!"

Some people were, it seemed, destined to have things happen to them. Old Master Skywalker couldn't take two steps without stepping in destiny, Ti'Cira bled intrigue regardless of what she was doing, and if there existed a group of ill mannered thugs in a city, Fable Merrill was bound to offend them sooner or later. Case in point, she'd rounded a corner and plowed right into a surly-looking Weequay - Not that they came in any other variety. Her funnel cake was spattered between her and the towering guy, a great grease and powder debacle that filled the air with a cloying sweetness. Fable squawked a reflexive apology, the Weequay wasn't interested in accepting it.

Really, she had not expected him - or any of his half-dozen friends - to be the sorts who accepted apologies. Story of her life.

The Weequay gave Fable a shove to express his displeasure, which really just made what happened next much easier on her. Shred never shied away from violence begetting violence. She grabbed one of the offending arms, twisted around, and bright it down over her shoulder - the sickening crack of the resulting fracture might as well have been a starter's pistol for the brawl to come.

 

[Razelle Breuner]

Oh for the love of-

Eight men. No, seven. Fable had just taken one out. Two humanoids. Blue skin is of indeterminate species, one drawing a blaster. Most immediate threat. One Herglic. That was going to be a problem. Three Nikto. Probably a Hutt's hit squad, then. Remaining was a Twi'lek in a fancy suit. Odd to see any female Twi'lek wearing more clothing than a Wookiee. Visible weapons on the crowd included blasters, but only one was active. Raz had her plan of action.

The echo's hand shot to her knife sheath in the same space it took her to close the gap to the human with the gun. Much less than twenty feet away. He barely had his safety off by the time Raz had managed to wind around his friends and deliver a deep cut across his wrist. The man's blaster was now useless, but no good CQC fighter would stop there. Her free, knifeless hand shot up around the pistol's grip, ripping it from the man's hand as she leveled the now-readied weapon at the next person who thought he would go for a gun.

And fired.

Two in as many seconds. Bringing her elbow around to knock the disarmed and bleeding first thug's jaw loose, she turned her attention to the next largest, most immediate threat. Herglic. He was huge, muscular, and his skin was likely quite resistant to-

- CRACK -

"Nngh!" The Twi'lek had blindsided her. Proper formal suit. Likely military training of her own. The Herglic had been there to draw attention while the real hitters got to work. Raz stumbled and tossed the blaster wide, so it couldn't be used against her, then brought her arms up defensively. The Twi'lek was already on her again, smashing a fist hard into Razelle's left side, where her knife wasn't. Then a third strike, knee to the abdomen. Her stomach was likely bruised from that...

Razelle stood back up and glared, flipping her knife around to a rear grip. No banter. Threat assessed.

 

[Fable Merrill]

And a brawl was begun. Fable sized up the targets as they were presented to her: three lizard things, two normal things, and one big thing. Razelle had already tagged in and was fighting one of the human things. If they'd coordinated a plan, she might...

No. Thought later, act now.

Giving the captured Weequay arm a savage twist to wring any potential second winds out of it, Fable took a half step back to judge her targets. One of the lizard things reached for a gun, judgements over. The leather-clad clone vaulted off of her incapacitated victim's prostrate form, shoving the hand aside that was going for a sidearm - delaying that draw. The moment she was in melee range, however, the Nikto collapsed on her with a barrage of strikes.

Fable ducked one punch, and felt anther land just above her kidneys. She turned to react to that, and felt the all-too-familiar press of a knife trying to slash through her hidebound shoulder. They'd surrounded her, which wasn't surprising. Fable might have lamented this if she had the capacity for surprise anymore. Or anything besides fury.

She twisted towards the direction she'd felt the knife, and saw a wrist. Grabbing that wrist, she weathered blows and pulled the stabby guy in for a brain-rattling headbutt, then turned and drove her shoulder into the gut of anther guy - creating a bit of breathing space for herself.

 

[Razelle Breuner]

Since she'd obviously managed to get Razelle's attention, the Twi'lek backed off and assumed a very familiar stance. Very familiar. Arms cocked, hands open near her face, slightly crouched...K'tara. Raz's own favorite. She no-doubt would have realized the similarities in their setup by now, and was already devising ways to counter that. Well, Raz had ways around that little pro-

Movement on her right. Raz ducked right and back, barely missing the Herglic who had not been distracted by Fable. She gave a passing backhand swipe with her knife on her way back, then reset to something a bit more viable to fighting multiple foes. Knife-hand back, arm bent, hand at the level of her face. Off-hand forward, open. Profile slender, senses keen. Derivation on a Teräs Käsi neutral stance. Her pupils narrowed into catlike slits as she focused intently.

The Herglic was bleeding, the Twi'lek was sizing up her opponent. Razelle was not going to be making any movements, and had obviously fallen into a defensive stance. As the whale-man noticed this, his focus shifted momentarily to Fable, and Raz responded by tossing her knife up a few inches to grip it by the blade and throwing it spinning towards her huge target's head.

The Twi'lek was absolutely military-trained. Her reaction time was astounding. Diving towards her companion, she pushed him just far enough out of the way that the knife only sliced by his eye instead of impaling itself in his skull. The two had dropped into a large, whale-shaped mass, and Raz spared a glance to Fable. She was getting the snot beaten out of her, but giving as good as she got from three people. That was...damn impressive. It took some stones to impress a commando.

Twi'lek was up. Whale had wiped the blood off of his eye, but it was out of commission. He might well be out of commission, considering eye wounds were nothing to sneeze at. Raz stepped right, into his blind spot, returning to her TK stance. <Take your buddy and leave,> she offered very simply in un-accented Huttese. <You've lost two, and a perfectly good eye.>

 

[Fable Merrill]

Fable was a tornado of punches and elbows, a one-woman hurricane of wild blows and animal rage, trading bruises with three other warriors. Her soul was at rest, in harmony with her body - with no concerns past absorbing the next blow and dishing two back, Fable could have made an honest claim to happiness, if she were capable of thinking clearly.

Her elbow caught one lizard guy across the jaw, and he took a half-step back. Fable immediately sized on the weakness and lunged, only to be yanked back by the other two like an unruly bar patron. Howling with fury, she dropped her weight and lifted her legs, forcing them to stumble or be pulled to the ground. One made the terrible error of releasing the hate-fueled woman with the toddler-level defense tactic. Fable took the opportunity to ram her elbow into the sternum of the guy holding her arm, breaking something riblike in the process. He fell on his ass, and then it was time to make her move on finishing this.

A quick side-kick was enough to shove a second thug back, which gave Fable the pleasure of singling out the target she'd headbutted before. Grinning ear to ear, she dipped around a pair of jabs and punched his teeth in, slicing up her knuckles in the process. Delicious, silvery pain.

Knife guy closed in again, but she was ready - having found the flow of combat like her mother; one with the planet, one with the force, submerged in the pure violence of the experience. A turn, she grabbed his arm and broke his wrist, trading away his knife. Then, channeling the Force, Fable gripped arm and belt, howled in triumph, and threw the hapless thug at Razelle's Twi'Lek like a blood-soaked gorilla.

 

[Razelle Breuner]

Holding onto her Herglic buddy didn't require enough of her attention to prevent Agent Smi'th from sidestepping a clumsily-thrown Nikto. Raz just smirked and settled deeper into her stance. <Make that three. If you get out of here now, I might be able to calm her down before she kills another man.> That was probably equal parts bluff and smug taunt, to be totally honest. Raz had yet to figure out how to calm Fable down from one of her little temper tantrums.

Fortunately, the Twi'lek took the suggestion and helped her friend to his feet, ignoring the Nikto and the corpses that Razelle had created. <We'll be in touch,> she idly remarked as she walked away. Razelle allowed herself a moment to relax her stance...then stood and casually walked over to pick up her blood-stained knife from where it had wound up post-whale.

Fable still had some friends she was dealing with. Rather than sheathing her blade, Raz walked up behind one of them with all of the sound of a Corellian Sand Panther, grabbed him from behind in a chokehold, and placed her knife very pointedly against his now-tensed artery. <Pick up your friends and go back to your boss, before you get killed in a public area by a couple of tiny human women.> Nikto were warriors. Every warrior had delusions of honor.

As the reptile-man scrambled away to go grab his bloodied friend from the pile of limbs he had landed in several meters away, Raz finally leaned off her knife and put it back in its sheath. "Hey Kitten," she started with a much more sympathetic smile, pulling up a chair from a nearby table to sit backwards in. "I've still got some funnel cake left, if you want some."

 

[Fable Merrill]

Fable hadn't stopped long to see if she had hit her target - she was in full brawl mode. A Nikto coming up behind her caught a swift jab to the throat, and then she lept upon the other one while the other was choking. Fable didn't weigh much, but a combination of experience and the Force helped her drive her prey to the ground, hands grasping the loose, scaly flesh behind his jaw so she could slam his head into the pavement for daring to attack her. While she was doing this, Razelle subdued the other one and said something unimportant; Fable chalked that target up as dealt with, and returned her attention to the Nikto in her grasp, knocking out a few of his teeth to make up for the moment she'd stopped hurting him to assess Razelle's situation.

And just like that, it was over. Razelle was talking, the Nikto were cowering nearby, and Fable's victim was teetering on the edge of unconsciousness. Which was, in a way, admirable considering he likely had a severe skull fracture. Fable snarled at the two remaining Nikto and pushed herself off of the one she was beating, covered in blood, cuts and bruises. One of her eyes was swollen shut, she was possibly missing a tooth, and she'd cut her hands something terrible on sharp lizard teeth.

Fable wanted more of 'em. But Razelle was trying to talk her down. The berserker backed off of her mess of an opponent, glaring daggers at the other two Nikto. They, smartly, took the opportunity to retrieve their comrade and skedaddle. Fable watched them going, before sparing a bit of her attention for Raz. Something about funnel cake. Once they were out of sight, Fable tried to stand up straight, winced, then shook her head. "I'm not hungry." She grumbled, sinking down onto the nearest sittable surface and passing out from a combination of adrenaline crashing and getting the snot beaten out of her by three members of a Huttsquad.