Clutch in the Kitchen [PM for Invite]

[Skrik Piper]

The port at Feriae Junction was far removed from her grounds on Abregado-Rae, and it was only a waypoint on her search for the associate of her bounty. Fascinating that she had gotten a heads-up about a little get-together an infamous Jedi warrior was overseeing. The fool sought to identify himself as something honorable by aligning with the 'Silver Order'. But it was a lie, just as it always is. He needed to be exterminated.

However, this one could not be underestimated. He was a battle-hardened knight with a history of violence and had survived harrowing ordeals. If he deserved anything good in his existence, it was a warrior's respect. Therefore, Skrik was armed to the teeth as she neared the point of activity, with deactivated electrostaff in hand, her rifle slung over the shoulders; the two knives and the stunner tucked into her belt nicely.

Look for the walking suit of iron, she had been told.

[member="Hasjo Hallu"]

 

[Lord Gaius]

A shuttle descended upon the planet through the atmosphere. Flames licked against the deflector shields at reentry. There were only a handful of unarmed delegates with him, here to talk about peacekeeping operations that were to take place in local star systems. Currently these star systems in question were suffering political unrest and turbulence, the Sixth Battalion had offered their services to maintain the peace. Junction was a neighbour to these planets, and from intelligence, they were worried by the military power in their vicinity. Hasjo Hallu, Jedi Knight of the Silver Order sat in the cargo bay with his recently elected Padawan. They had only just reunited, and this was their first real meeting with one another since he had found her when he was seventeen, and she was six. He sat there awkwardly, no longer resembling the man she had met as a child. The heroic figure she had once knew. He rested across from her encased in an durasteel coffin - at least that is how he saw it. He watched her from behind his faceplate, cutting through the silence, "We'll be landing soon, Parmi. I'm glad you have accompanied me. The council chose wisely to place you under my tutelage." His voice was unlike the thick, exotic accent he once had. It was a synthesised voice. Robotic and monotone in nature. It lacked emotion and definition. The vessel landed with a tremendous thud, the bay doors opened with a hiss. They would soon meet a government ambassador of Junction.

@[member="Parmi Miemant"]
@[member="Skrik Piper"]

 

[Parmi Miemant]

Parmi sat in the cargo bay across from her mentor, Hasjo. The atmosphere of the room was stiff. It didn't help that this was their first mission together since they were reunited. The interactions between them were rigid and completely unlike when they met. Parmi worried that she had done something to upset him. Perhaps this was why he had barely spoken a word since they boarded the shuttle. She looked at Hasjo in his steel suit and wondered if he was still the same man who had taken her under his wing all those years ago. As Parmi glanced over at Hasjo she noticed subtle differences in the way he carried himself. He looked more out of place than he once did, uncomfortable with their lack of dialogue. Hasjo said, "We'll be landing soon, Parmi. I'm glad you have accompanied me. The council chose wisely to place you under my tutelage."
"The council chose wisely to appoint you as my mentor." Parmi was content with the conversation being momentarily retrospective of old times. As the bay doors began to creak open Parmi looked to Hasjo for direction.

 

[Skrik Piper]

Government headquarters were typically not the most fun place to invade, from what she understood. Besides, the officials were only partly to blame. They were probably being manipulated through the sorcery of the Force-endowed. She had no quarrel with them. Their pathetic minds would awaken as soon as they realized they had been released from their chains.

Setting up shop in a perch atop some speeder repair garage, Skrik pulled a pair of mechanic's goggles she had 'borrowed' over her eyes and tautened a bandana across her nose, covering her entire face suitably. The shock of reddish blond hair stood out like a flare, so she quickly grabbed an oily fuel strainer and capped her head.

Her 1284 rifle was at the ready but not in firing position at the moment. This street was the most direct route from the spaceport to the government sector. All she had to do was wait for him to pass by and send a little cone-shaped message to her unfortunate friend.

[member="Hasjo Hallu"] [member="Parmi Miemant"]

 

[Lord Gaius]

The metalloid Nautolan nodded in agreement with [member="Parmi Miemant"]. He shrouded himself in his thick, arid cloak. His gloved hands dwelled in opposing, lengthy sleeves that hung low. He stood to his feet, beginning his march down the ramp and into the natural sunlight. His footfalls were heavy and loud, metal hammering against metal. The cloak dragged behind his heels. Three delegates of the Silver Order had finished their walk down the ramp, adorned in fashionable robes and jewellery. Parmi and Hasjo were the last to leave. The Exotic Weapons Master had deserved the name, for with each step he took, one would have the chance to spy upon his arsenal at his hip. The Lightsaber Pike, a difficult weapon to master. The exotic Lightwhip, a ferocious weapon but otherwise unruly. The rare San-Ni Staff, one few had ever encountered. It was truly a weapon many found difficult to defend against. Lastly, an AB-1 'Marshal' Heavy Blaster Pistol was holstered. He spoke to his padawan gently, "Keep your senses awake. Do not think; feel."

@[member="Skrik Piper"]

 

[Parmi Miemant]

Parmi stepped off the ramp, following the elegantly dressed delegates. She pulled her hood up, shrouding her face. The cloak was heavy and dark. Her robes were loose, perfect for fighting if need be. Yellow cloth upon her orange skin, giving her a radiant look. The buildings stood tall, but paled in comparison to her home planet of Coruscant. She was torn between nerves and excitement. She had no idea what to expect, she had been briefed but this was her first mission. However, the excitement at finally feeling like a Jedi overtook her. The delegates chatted amongst themselves but something felt wrong. She heeded Hasjo's words and took a moment to feel instead of thinking of what could be wrong. She whispered to Hasjo, "Something doesn't feel right."

@[member="Skrik Piper"]

 

[Skrik Piper]

Tin Man seemed to be accompanied by four Jedi types. Either this was her lucky day or she was in for more than she had bargained for. Not to mention that his armor seemed to be a little heavier than she was expecting. Her projectile might not actually penetrate the suit. But an old Rattataki hunting trick her father had taught her was to kill the rearmost creature so the others could not cover the prize victim, nor save their own skins by hiding behind his body.

The Togruta at the big man's side looked convenient. A Jedi was a Jedi and they all deserved to die. Peeking just above the sill of the window, Skrik focused through her rifle scope and adjusted aim as it fed her the wind gauging and the distance of the horned woman, her finger tense against the trigger. She swept the muzzle a score of degrees over to compensate for the troupe's pace. Perfect.

With a callous sneer, she pulled. [member="Parmi Miemant"]

[member="Hasjo Hallu"]

 

[Lord Gaius]

Hasjo glanced down at [member="Parmi Miemant"] as she spoke, "Something doesn't feel right." He nodded, now feeling the sensation. It was a tingling feeling that crept along his skin. He looked to the delegates, and momentarily thought their lives were in danger. They wouldn't be able to defend themselves, they were nothing more than officials, without a connection to the force. A deep instinct overtook his senses, drowning out logical thought. His body reacted whilst his mind watched. His armoured hand placed itself firmly against Parmi's chest, pushing hard in an attempt to throw her to the ground. His torso was still turning, everything seemed slower than it actually was. He stepped forward where she would have been. Something tiny slammed against him, throwing him off of his feet. His eyes concentrated on the clouds, the blue backdrop and the burning, bright sun as he fell. His back slammed against the ground. The crowd shrieked in terror, the delegates fled back into the shuttle. He grunted in pain, getting onto his elbows to see a small scratch in his durasteel life support suit. His hand raced down to the AB-1 Marshal, unholstering the pistol as he scrambled onto his knees, crawling over to Parmi. He knelt over, asking her with concern, "Are you hit?" He craned his neck to glance over his shoulders. He couldn't see the assailant, and he had no idea where the shot had come from.

@[member="Skrik Piper"]

 

[Parmi Miemant]

Parmi felt the air become stiff with tension when she realised that Hasjo felt it too. She was merely a Padawan who had been assigned to accompany her master in the protection of the delegates. She had not prepared for a fight. This was a peace-keeping mission after all. Her mind was occupied with racing thoughts of what the feeling could be caused by. Wishing not to worry the delegates, she subtly glanced around at the space surrounding her. No cause for concern appeared, which only worsened her anxieties. She felt the cold, hard push of Hasjo's steel hand forcing her out of the way. With horror she saw Hasjo winded by a slug intended for her. She was overcome with distress, both for Hasjo and the delegates. She glimpsed around and noticed the terrified innocents, scurrying back on board the shuttle. She turned to the sight of Hasjo recovering himself enough to reach for the pistol on his hip. Parmi saw that he had sustained a scratch to this suit and hoped that the injury had gone no further. He begun crawling towards her, pistol in hand, "Are you hit?"
"No, Master." The urgency of the situation called for a simple answer. She knew that there would be time enough later to thank him and hoped that he would understand she was grateful.
Their surroundings became clearer as Parmi realised the danger they were in. She remembered Hasjo's earlier advice to favour feeling over thought and silenced her mind. She could feel that the attacker was still present, though could not see. Parmi turned to the shuttle and held out her hand, reaching out with her mind. She focused on the ramp and through the force, she began to raise it. She felt herself strain to close it. With the delegates safely inside, the ramp closes. Parmi turned her attention to Hasjo and the situation at hand.

@[member="Skrik Piper"]

 

[Skrik Piper]

Son of a bantha! Skrik cursed and seethed as she witnessed the split-second heroics of the Jedi. This was not fair. But, of course, she had known that it was never a fair fight with a Force user.

One of the beautiful things about a KiSteer 1284 was its electromagnetic pulse-emitting barrel. While not particularly powerful, it could be the trick to gaining a significant upper hand. They were on to her but they had yet to locate their attacker, which meant she had one more shot to make good on. The Forcebreaker switched her weapon to EMP and quickly discharged the silent burst at the metal-encased Jedi. It probably would not do any severe damage to Tin Can's systems, but it would hopefully be enough to claim the necessary advantage.

Following her EMP discharge, she withdrew her gun from the window and frantically proceeded to load another round into the chamber, oblivious that her makeshift head covering had fallen off, exposing her bright swish of hair. She grit her teeth as she imagined that this time, the Togruta Jedi should receive her valentine.

[member="Hasjo Hallu"] [member="Parmi Miemant"]

 

[Lord Gaius]

The Nautolan confirmed his understanding she was alright with the nodding of his head. He climbed back onto his two feet, standing up proudly. He danced the pistol from his right hand to left. He straightened his arm in ready to aim, right hand curling around the Lightsaber Pike at his waist. He pulled it free from it's latch and was prepared to ignite it when something struck him again. He staggered, falling to a single knee. There was a deep crackling coming from the life support suit. His hand on the pistol and pike wained, dropping the weapons to the ground. They clattered against the stone. He tried to breathe but the air didn't come to his lungs. The apparatus responsible for his lungs had momentarily shut down. He grew into a panic, a loud wheezing coming from his chest. His hands reached up to his throat, clawing in an animalistic nature. As though it would help him. Fruitlessly he struggled to breathe. He began to tremble as the wheezing grew louder and louder, until finally it relented. The systems rebooted, fresh oxygen filled his powerful lungs. He heard the firing of another shot, but it was too late for him to do anything to help Parmi. He looked up, catching the glint of bright hair upon chalk white skin. His fingers struggled to grab the AB-1 Marshal heavy blaster pistol. His index finger slid over the trigger, raising the pistol in the direction of their assailant. He pulled against three times. Boom, Boom, Boom.

@[member="Parmi Miemant"]
@[member="Skrik Piper"]

 

[Parmi Miemant]

Parmi saw the shock hit Hasjo. He wasn't prepared for it. He had braced himself for a confrontation, but not for this. It had taken him by surprise. She watched in horror as he fell, crippled by the attack. She watched him gasp for air that wasn't coming and was overwhelmed with shock. She lunged to his side but as she crossed the pavement she heard a deep, sound coming from inside his suit. Fear overtook Parmi while she stood there, unable to help. Confronted by the sight of Hasjo helplessly struggling for breathe, she knew she would be next if she ran to his side. Sure that another assault was soon to follow, she frantically scrambled to the side of Hasjo and grabbed the dropped Lightsaber pike. Glancing to her mentor, she saw him recovering his breath. Parmi knew it would be a while yet before he was able to fight beside her. She would have to hold out until then. In the corner of her eye she saw the flash of hair as red as fire. She stood silently while she briefly collected her thoughts. She didn't have much time. She felt around the space around her and thought of what she could use to her advantage. She was distracted when she heard yet another shot. The only responding sound was Hasjo's blaster pistol.

[member="[member="Skrik Piper"]"]
[member="[member="Hasjo Hallu"]"]

 

[Skrik Piper]

There was no time to check if she had dropped the Togruta. Her eyes widened in surprise as three powerful bolts from Iron Man's pistol collided in her vicinity, two of them slamming against the wall of her building while the third slashed through the open window--she imagined it may have singed her hair. The impact of one of the previous bolts threw duracrete chunks and smaller debris at her, pelting her face and caking the goggles in ash.

Skrik ripped off the eye protection and shrugged the strap of her rifle over her shoulder. Her combat boots clattered down the stairs to the garage level as she hastened for the exit. Bandana still wrapped over her lower face and streaks of engine oil and duracrete dust smattered across her forehead, the hopeful assassin peeked out of the doorway to determine what the current situation was with her two enemies. They were still there. Whether she had injured the female was yet to be seen, but it was never wise to consider a Jedi down and out until they were down and out.

Clutching her electrostaff, she flicked it on, prompting the purple, vibrant lightning to dance around the ends of the weapon. It was too risky to run for a direct confrontation--she might not even make it halfway against that Jedi's blaster. There had to be another way to finish the job, though.

Piper tried to devise some sort of plan as she dashed across the street in an attempt to evade their sight.

[member="Hasjo Hallu"] [member="Parmi Miemant"]

 

[Lord Gaius]

She ran for cover, and Hasjo lowered his pistol. The weapon in question was incredibly powerful, perhaps even more so than the notorious Verpine pistols, problem was in the ammunition and range. She had been within range, but any further and the blaster would have become highly inaccurate. The ammunition was another problem altogether, it required cooldowns before operating again. It was no simple two-second reload by shoving another magazine into a socket. No, it required fourteen seconds. That could spell life or death, and thus the AB-1 Marshal was used in close-quarters for extreme measures. Usually a last resort to blast away ones foe. Capable of punching a fist sized hole through your enemies chest. He remained kneeling, recovering his breath. He looked to Parmi, straining to make the words on the damaged voice synthesiser, "After her!" He cared not if she took his Lightsaber Pike, the exotic weapons master had a wide variety of weapons to choose from. He was a very versatile opponent. He didn't wait to see if she would give chase, only hoping she would take the initiative and track down their would-be killer. He holstered the pistol and unclipped the exotic Lightwhip. It was a ferociously deadly weapon to try and master, but it was even more deadlier trying to defend against. He pinched his fingers over the power nozzle and set it to it's lowest format. The plasma wouldn't shear through flesh and bone at this power setting, but it would certainly give someone quite the stun. He knew what it felt like, he had once been at the mercy of his own Lightwhip during practice. He wasn't able to talk on that leg for the next few hours. With his breathing under control by the Mobile Life Support Suit, he stood to his feet. Hoping to catch up to Parmi and find his assailant.

@[member="Skrik Piper"]
@[member="Parmi Miemant"]

 

[Parmi Miemant]

Parmi had been trained in the force well enough to act without thought. Just as Hasjo had instinctively pushed her out of harm's way, Parmi ignited one end of her mentors Lightsaber as simply as one would unfurl their own clenched fist. She felt the oncoming charge move through the air and braced her body for deflection. Parmi brought the bright blue blade to the front of her body. Parmi felt a deep instinct overcome her and moved without a single thought, deflecting the three shots fired to kill her. She heard Hasjo's resounding shots as she defended herself. Rubble around the assailant's location fell but Parmi knew that his shots had not taken her down. From the damaged window she saw the startle of red hair turn to escape. Hasjo spoke, and while it was nearly a wisp, she could make it out clearly, ""After her!"
Parmi clipped Hasjo's Lightsaber onto her belt, knowing full well that he had more than enough weapons without needing his Pike. She began the pursuit with swift but precise footsteps on the hard pavement. Despite the previous sight, the courtyard was still thick with Junction inhabitants. Parmi weaved her way through the congested mass, trying hard to avoid bumping into anybody. Parmi neared the aggressor, closer and closer with each pounding step. The flick of red was just ahead and with one final push Parmi knew she would catch up to her. Preparing herself for all possible outcomes, she forced her body to pursue the target just a moment longer.

[member="[member="Hasjo Hallu"]"]
[member="[member="Skrik Piper"]']

 

[Skrik Piper]

It seemed that no matter how many people Skrik weaved behind, the Togruta still managed to part the waves of the crowds and draw ever nearer to her. Not fair... Not fair... And as hateful as her spirit was towards the Force-endowed, she could not bring herself to put innocent 'naturals' in harm's way. Skidding into a clearing, the Jedi killer whirled about on her plant foot and established a defense-aggressive form.

Retrieving one of the pair of vibroblades from her belt, she sucked air through clenched teeth and cut a gash through her pants and into her skin, inciting rapid endorphins flow. Her gray leg garments began to progressively stain rust red as the blood seeped through her flesh and was absorbed into the cloth, now clinging to her otherwise powdery white body. As her orange pursuer neared Skrik whipped the bloody blade through the air towards the Jedi before gripping her electrostaff horizontally, bracing for a strike from the lightsaber pike if her knife did not hit its mark.

"Have cursing of your genocide!" she shrieked.

[member="Parmi Miemant"] [member="Hasjo Hallu"]

 

[Lord Gaius]

Hasjo broke into a thunderous jog. Each footfall sounded with the crack of thunder upon the pavement. The Nautolan was heavy, but he moved with ease. He was as strong as two men, and the mobile life support suit didn't hold him back. He came barreling through the crowd, his armoured hand grabbing onto shoulders and easing them aside as he slipped past their numbers. They screamed and wailed at the sight of him, and the confrontation ahead. He diverted away from the fight, flanking left towards a set of small commercial buildings. He snapped his head right, watching as [member="Parmi Miemant"] and [member="Skrik Piper"] came together. The woman Rattaki sliced herself, before throwing her knife in a fatal thrust. Hasjo came to a grinding halt, almost enough to unbalance him. He threw up his hand and held out his palm. His mind focused, time seemed to slow. His eyes relaxed in meditation. He could feel the knife through the force. Every niche in the blade. Every curve. Every edge. He pulled it down. His eyes focused, watching as the blade bare inches away from Parmi suddenly slamming downwards into the pavement. The vibroblade clattered there. The metalloid Nautolan returned to his jog, much of the crowd had now dispersed. The shuttle he had come on was leaving, blasting off into the skies until it was safer to return. He continued his wide, left arc around the fight, some twenty meters away.

 

[Parmi Miemant]

Parmi saw the Rattaki retrieve a vibroblade. She thrust the blade, aiming for a fatal stab. Moments before it struck, Parmi felt from the tip of her montrals, Hasjos abundant and clanky movement in the surrounding area. She sensed a ripple in the force. The blade dropped to the ground with a clatter. Parmi knew that Hasjo had been the culprit and silently thanked him. Parmi launched herself at @[member="Skrik Piper"] with her mentors pike raised above her head. She swung down with all her strength, preforming the move known as the Falling Avalanche.

 

[Skrik Piper]

Skrik had no hope in competing with a Jedi's reflexes, but she had been trained and developed skills in various martial arts her entire life, her father having pushed her into the Rattataki fighting forms as early as five years old. She would need to rely entirely on muscle memory and strategy in order to survive this battle.

Both hands still holding onto her staff in a wide, iron grip, Skrik dropped on her back to the ground in a sacrifice fall, bending her knees up and locking her elbows to hold against the Jedi's powerful strike. As the Togruta descended from the peak of her leap and lightsaber came in contact with electrostaff, the bright-haired woman thrust her legs forward to kick her attacker's kneecaps and propel the Padawan over her prone body. She promptly rolled sideways and picked herself up to a readied crouch, staring down the incoming metal hulk.

[member="Hasjo Hallu"] [member="Parmi Miemant"]

 

[Lord Gaius]

Hasjo didn't falter, even as he watched with disdain as the woman effectively countered his Padawan. She had used a move he was well proficient in, but no longer used. He had better techniques since then. He ignited the Lightwhip in his right hand, his left hand curling around the metallic baton at his hip, removing it from it's clasp. The Lightwhip when ignited was three meters in length. He reared the hilt back over his shoulder and thrust downward with a vicious snap. The crack of the plasma looked like a bolt of lightning, with the clap of thunder. The whip harmlessly slapped against the ground. The courtyard was now open to but the three competitors. Hasjo continued his run towards her. He broke his jog to kick his feet, throwing himself off the ground and into the air. He spun his body, the lightwhip slashed around in a great, wide arc. His feet slammed back onto the ground, he continued to spin. The Nautolan increased his efforts. He became a living, martial hurricane. The cerulean whip was here, there, everywhere. It spun around him ferociously, threatening those who got near with its fearsome bite. He continued twirling on the balls of his feet, with such grace it could make a Twi'lek dancer envious. He was getting nearer to Skrik, as he moved around and around, he slowly propelled himself further towards her. Even in the durasteel coffin that weighed him down, he was strong. As strong as any two men.

@[member="Skrik Piper"]
@[member="Parmi Miemant"]