Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Damsels in Not-So-Distress [Luna]

Jedi Strike Operations headquarters, Ruusan

The military base ont he other side of the Valley of the Jedi was the place to be if you were a Jedi with a bent for combat. Strike Ops was the new military unit under the command of the clone of Ben Watts that happened to specialise in commando missions and had one hell of a pedigree. Incidentally they'd helped build up the Republic presence on this world, and a half-dozen more nearby. It was their job and they took it seriously. Such being the case, Zane was prowling his command centre, keeping an eye on the data flowing in.

Suddenly!

"Colonel! We're getting a distress call from near Pesmenben!"

Pesmenben was basically the next system over from Ruusan, so for Jedi Strike Ops to deploy it wasn't entirely a big deal. Zane was entirely happy to get himself and Amarant Squad over there and wreak some havoc... by protecting this liner.

"I want the Triumph ready to go, right now. Signal Amarant and have them gear up and meet me on the ship." The Triumph was their mobile base... the smaller one... a Baldr-class transport of standard Republic issue. It'd been the first Amarant's home, and now it was the second one's home too. Amarant Squad, of course, was Zane's team of four Jedi Knights, ready to fight in the name of the Republic. You didn't mess with the Wu.

"Weapons loadout, sir? Y'want any of the big guns?"

"Not this time, kid. Just gimme my saber and my blaster."

Such being the case, the Jedi Strike Ops commander turned around and left the command centre in his base - he'd have to meet his troops and get to Pesmenben orbit soon enough. The transport took off with five Jedi inside, ready to go - and Zane was already eagerly awaiting whatever challenge was up there for him.
 
"Tae waaat?" she spat through the com. And they said she talked gibberish. "Aye dinna say nuthin' bout' no tae."

A half'o'dozen borrowed ships was all Luna managed- they weren't even ships. Just mangled pieces of metal with the parts to cut through space and barely enough guts to seat a crew. Is was all about the cargo though, and Sweet Sweet Betty was just not equipped with the space for her next excursion. "This is Pub space, lass. We just need to skirt on by, find a drop and you can get another somewhere else." Van, part of the crew, but captain of his own hunk of junk came over the communications.

Whiskey laced breath came out in a puff of smoke, a sigh rolled, "...No enough fuel, love." Maybe she had enough, Vega thought as she tapped the gauges. Hints of blue fell past a concrete gaze and she tossed it back with a flick of her head. Inked fingers drummed over the controls with one hand- the other, it reached to itch a scratch. Scratch an itch? "May we doona need ta drop..." pirate smile made apparent upon her liquor glossed lips. "We have somethin' on tha grid, mates. No far off. See."

There was silence, a crackle and again, Van came across, "You are bloody insane, woman."

The pirate laughed, "Anna yer rich becausa it."

"That is a liner. Probably full of civvies."

"Oh, I doona doubt it, love. Buuuuut.... Galactic Standad Time... prolly just a buncha rich, drunk..."

"Alright. Alright. But we only need two of us. I'm sending the rest to the drop, lass."

Fortune. Ambition. Freedom. Hustle. Luna Vega was grindin', working for every bit she had. While it was less than legal by any and all means, it was survival. It was how the beryl maned damsel made a livin'. Years were lost on that planet and as many months with The Authority. This lunatic was making up for lost time and a civilian liner was just a side-job. "It's a go." One more scan was authorized and as soon as it came back clear, Sweet Sweet Betty and The Misfit separated, then swung around to pinch the objective.

They didn't really want to damage what they wanted. Not really. So long as it flew, it didn't matter. "Jam their signal, but get me a line in."

Upon being patched through, Luna's voice rang to the pilot of the liner, "No one gets hurt, no one dies. I just need your ride."

Silence stretched. There was no doubt they were reaching out or trying to. "Man this," Vega said in a huff, wriggling from the restraints only to have a lanky frame fall in the hole she'd made. "Drop teh gate or Imma blow a hole in it, boys. Ya have two minutes starting..." she gave a dramatic pause, tipped the cask back for a swallow, "now."

Time given had not cleared and she could hear the ship's whine as they offered her an in. Nodding as if they could see her, leather boots fell in resounding thuds announcing her arrival. This could be quick, smooth if everything continued the way it was. Life was so much simpler when people listened. "Allo, I am Captain Vega and we've had a change of plans. A detour if ya will. E'rryone move ta the right." Small hands waved the patrons, shooed them and moved to rest on the utility belt hanging from her hips. Fingers tapping the dual pistols to draw attention to them. Not even half capacity. Good.

To be honest, Luna was far from intimidating and it often took drastic measures to gain cooperation. She offered a charming, lopsided smile and they moved. What was once their seats became storage for crates. Of what? It was unidentified, but more and more were piled from the likes of Betty.


[member="Zane Watts"]​
 
Meanwhile, aboard the Triumph...

"Welcome to Pesmenben, gentlemen. This place is basically a scrub-wash whose major selling point is being right next to our doorstep. However, it sounds like they need a bit of help, and being a good bunch of Jedi, we're going to go pull their asses out of the fire. Right now it sounds like there are some pirates raiding some civilian liners out here and we're going to go find them."

"How many pirates are we talkin', boss?" asked one currently-nameless Jedi, whose name I won't divulge until I think of one.

"Probably just a handful. That's why we're here. Only takes five of us to handle the job."

"Five fully-trained Jedi Knights, sir?"

"Still only five, mate," shot back Zane with a large grin. "It's time to bring the ruckus. You ready?"

"Wu Tang, sir," echoed back the chorus as one.

Zane nodded his assent. Of course they were ready - he knew they were ready. The frequency with which he entered a mind-meld with his squad was ridiculous and at this point he might as well have just formed four separate Force Bonds to make sure he knew what his squad was doing at all times. However, that was neither here nor there.

"Col'nel, got a liner on screen," called the pilot from the cockpit over the intercom. "Y'want us to signal a landing?"

Zane scratched his chin, instantly forming his battleplan. "Not this time. Forced entry, boys and girls. Run us into the hangar and we'll take care of the rest."

"Aye aye, sir."

The five Jedi Knights of Amarant Squad checked their blasters, attached them to their waist-clips and checked their armour plating one last time. Zane's final moment was to focus the Force, conjuring its energies to himself as he considered the mysteries of the mind as his mentor and clone progenitor Ben had taught him - as one, the five soldiers of Amarant Squad entered the perfect trance, ready to become one perfect fighting unit and cleanse this passenger liner of any trace of the enemy.

The transport barged its way into the hangar with no clearance, performing a perfect turn as it flared its repulsors and landed cleanly, boarding ramp slamming down an instant later. Five Jedi Knights disembarked a moment later, lightsabers blazing brightly like the sun. The greatest single team in all the Republic had just made their presence known, armor gleaming, eyes cast about to check the hangar for the status of the enemy. Together, they moved in perfect sync, a unit so joined by the Force that it was impossible to deny their strength.

Amarant Squad had arrived.

[member="Luna Vega"]
 
The liner rocked and the privateer swayed. "Bloody mages."

Like a chime or a little bell, that sense that she had- the one she hated dearly was a constant tune in her head. Van then came over her private com, "It appears we have company, beautiful. You might want to pack it up." One look around to the cargo, then to the patrons earned another sigh. He was right. A lot. Silently the Captain wondered if he had called in reinforcements. Luna tapped her forehead with a couple fingers. He had too much to lose.

"Pick'a crate, any crate. Move. Back to Betty," the crew looked at her guffawed and the rest stared blinking. "Aye. MOVE." A single pistol was drawn, leveled at a woman, who the pirate waged was worth the most. Jewels sparkled along her knuckles, peeked from under her fur coat. Vega was no cold-blooded killer, she was a survivor. They didn't know that and she made a notion to squeeze the trigger. Tick. Tock. Begrudgingly they moved, tossing their personals atop crates and slowly they all began to retreat. Having nearly transported all the goods before, it was going to take time they didn't have to get it all back.

Time Luna was going to have to make.

After a long sip from the cask, the corsair tucked it away and jerked her head to a privvy, "Leave a few of them on board." For hostages, she didn't say. Or leave a crate... because really, there would be a lot left. Nothing near half, but enough that it annoyed the bright haired minx-the connoisseur of spirits- and her hand befell one of the containers. Six of her own men stayed behind, but they had no inkling of what was coming their way. Luna didn't either. Not really. It was more what and not who that she felt. The same feeling Rhoujen and Talon gave her and she found herself running her black chipped nails along her skin. It didn't quite have her wanting to pull the flesh from her bones. This was not Norongachi, but the unease was there. Albeit considerably smaller. Luna's cloudy gray eyes watched warily at the connecting door, heart BADUM BADUM in her chest.

Mmm. She did live for danger though and there was no knight in shining armor to save her this time.


[member="Zane Watts"]​
 
Clear the room- aye, sir.

Two, point. Four, five, backup. Three on me.

Clear left. Clear right!

Five voices melded as one to the point that they did not even need to be verbalised, Amarant Squad moved through the passenger liner with the lethal efficiency of a highly-trained specialist assault team. Every step was calculated, perfect, each in rhythm with the movements of other duraplst-coated boots, echoing around the hallways of the ship with rapid precision. Rooms were checked and cleared, finding only a minimal presence aboard this vessel.

I don't like this. Neither do I.

Me either- wait. Up ahead. On me, boys, we're doing this together.

The squad reformed before the doors to the open-area holding pen that a huge amount of presence could be felt - including, as Zane realised momentarily, one attuned to the Force. Not... trained, not perfect, not honed as they were. But definitely a presence. Zane wasn't sure what was waiting for him on the other side of the door, but no matter - it would be over shortly.

Three. Two. One.

In the next instant, five Jedi Knights burst through the door, clad in the dark robes and pure-white armour of Jedi Strike Ops, lightsabers raised - one a beautiful scintillating light blue, one of the standard deeper Jedi blue, a green, a purple and an orange. Their blades were bright, shining beacons of hope for the passengers, who practically cheered the arrival of the Knights. Zane spotted the containers and the pirates instantly, eyes locked on the blue-haired one - she was the presence he'd felt before.

"Freeze! Drop your weapons!" shouted the Colonel, saber raised high over his head in classic Djem So ready. "Surrender and nobody gets hurt!"
 
A stifle, no, a slow bat of long, a few days worth of mascara worn, lashes won over the weariness and hid metal tinted eyes in betwixt blinks. During the time it took for the squad to blow the door wide, Luna managed to remove a cigar from one of the many pockets patched on her jacket, dress her lips up with it and procure a light. She was mid-drag when they made their colorful entrance. Hostages were behind the wake of thin shoulders draped in a tattered, floor length button up and four armed men. Of course, these privateers had weapons. Modified blasters, if you will. And of course they were aimed to greet.

Vega? This particular corsair fashioned a visible machete. The curved blade hung just slightly beside the wielder's head, gripped just below the chin. "Ya caught me square," replied the Captain through swirls of smoke ebbing from her mouth. She made no motion to drop her weapon and her crew, they shuffled, forcing out two hostages to secure Luna's unscathed state.

"The way I sae it..." a pirate smile flitted over her features and the hand with the blade dropped, resting on the slightly shorter captive's shoulder. "...is ya really doona have the clout ta be makin' orders. I... well, I have the ship and the passengers." Steel eyes met their leader's and she held his gaze as she spoke around the cigar.

After a moment of silence, the pirate withdrew that crutch of hers between the middle and forefinger of her free hand and took a booted step forward. Truthfully, the azure haired woman wanted them to leave and it wasn't because she didn't fancy herself a good fight. Her skin prickled with an awareness she loathed. "Nae harm, nae foul, mages. I just need tae get whar I'm goin'. Ya can have the ship and the guests back just as soon as I land. Nae one get hurt. Nae a scratch. I give ye mah word."


[member="Zane Watts"]​
 
"Mages. That's a new one," scoffed the Colonel. Truthfully, Zane was ready to drop this woman in a single moment, but right now the safety of the passengers was utmost. Unfortunately, raiding a Republic vessel was an offence punishable by a jail sentence. Piracy in Republic space was highly frowned upon, after all - it's like someone in the Galaxy was actually aware of legal repercussions of things! Wow, that has to be a first.

Amarant Squad already had its collective mind made up about what was to happen in this instance. There wasn't a single word. There wasn't a 'what do we do' - there was a quick decision and a plan of action hatched in seconds, decisive and probably the best situation possible. After all, it meant disarming each and every one of the pirates and defusing the situation would unnecessary force. There was a certain few rules in the regs manual about necessary escalation of force, and they had limits.

Fortunately, they were good at using those limits.

In the next second, without nary a word, each of the four wonderfully faceless Jedi Knights behind Zane each used a telekinetic strike, aimed at a different faceless pirate to throw them back hard; disarming all four simultaneously after the pirate leader had stepped forward - and thus out of striking range of the captives - meant that they wouldn't be a threat. They then followed by advancing up to the pirates at high speed, ready to strike and apprehend the pirates for their crimes. .

Zane, meanwhile, executed a Force leap, jumping straight towards Vega with the very intent of pointing his saber straight in her face. She'd obviously have the chance to stand down, but it was going to take a show of force to get her to buckle.

"You won't be taking our ship anywhere, lass."

[member="Luna Vega"]
 
"Aye, no even man e'no for basic combat," Luna mused aloud, still an arm about a captive's neck. The one that had been there all along, even when she had previously motioned forward. Pirates didn't need or have the fancy powers, they took care in brutal force. Surivived even. Being weaponless was average at best. It was a circumstance they were used to.

Vega jerked her head to the right and the silent command was adhered to without pause. Thrice a knock to the cockpit and the liner rocked with the other two of the six pirates at the controls. She swayed with the motion, shifting the woman in her grasp, freeing up her machete. Albeit putting the innocent in harms way of the oncoming blade. While the mages in question ferried their way over to meet and greet with her own men, the corsair smiled and knocked the cherry from her cigar with a swipe across her blade. [member="Zane Watts"] landed before her, his fancy blade nary an inch from the captive's cheek.

"Far fro'a lass, mate," drawled the Captain, flicking her gray eyes from the Jedi to the captive.

Clearly, they were underway, she could feel it and it wouldn't be long before they made the jump.
 
Lightsabers versus unarmed foes wasn't exactly a big deal - and Amarant Squad wasn't here to take prisoners. You can guess where that was going. That, however, is not the point. Such being the case, it freed up some of Zane's men. Two of them, to be precise; one was going straight for the cockpit door. Let's assume the pirates were smart enough to lock it from external threats and an orange blade lanced its way through the durasteel door, aiming to decimate the locking mechanism. That left the other to start escorting the captives to safety.

All but the Colonel's.

He stood, poised, blade ready to strike at a moment's notice. This was a bad situation. He had to get a prisoner to safety, disarm the opponent, interrogate her, then deal with her appropriately.

But she was trapped. Was there a way out?

"Lady, you'll have to forgive me," Zane said, staring right into the prisoner's eyes. Fearful, unsure, the woman was a little terrified what the Jedi Knight might do. Was she about to become a sacrifice to the devil?

Nope. Just a ragdoll.

Telekinesis followed a moment later, and Zane forcefully flung the woman to the side, past and behind the blade that [member="Luna Vega"] was carrying. It'd mean she'd get rather hurt from the impact, but the fact of the matter was that injured was better than dead and he'd foot the medical bills later. That would free up our pirate friend for the fight, to which Zane didn't respond with his blade, but a plate-clad boot in the direction of her right knee to shatter her balance driven as hard as a piston firing.
 
What is behind door number one, Jim?

Well, to start, the respective co-pilot and pilot.

With the lock singed away, the door slid rather quickly with nothing there to keep it. Upon doing so, the two nameless Jedi would have the bodies of two men practically shoved in their direction. Given that the area to the cockpit is quite cramped, there would be little to do other than deal with the sudden rush of meat popsicles. If they lived or died, well... that was on the Republic's head. For now though, the privateer that had taken the pilot's place threw the ship into lightspeed, slowly, with his hand steady on the throttle.

Suddenly, the viewport was alight with bright, blinding white streaks and the color washed the walls of the cabin.

From ear-to-ear, Luna's smile spread, free of nothing more than an obstacle. His foot came barreling down and the young pirate reared back using the momentum created by the jump, not exactly taking the blow as her Jedi friend, [member="Zane Watts"] would have liked. Instead, it clipped her opposite thigh when she went down and she winced. While her bottom was very close to touching the floor, the leg he'd aimed for originally shot out, attempting to take the Colonel's lower limbs out from under him. Or in the very least, cause him to falter in step the other way.


 
At this point it was basically 'dodge the pilots and get some help doing it' - don't care. What's better is the fact that Zane just got tripped. He also got tripped forward, which led to his slipping, and then him trying to coordinate it on the way down - which worked, awkwardly. What happened next was slightly different to what you'd normally see.

Ladies and gentlemen, Zane Watts just pulled off the splits. Here's the thing about doing the splits, from a real-life expert: they don't actually hurt. Being in forward splits was occasionally painful, but only really because you were sitting on your own nuts when you didn't go down quite as prepared as you'd hoped.

And that's exactly what [member="Luna Vega"] had accidentally put into motion here. Zane had smushed his nuts against the floor.

The other problem usually was getting up. Sometimes it was easy enough, if you weren't, y'know, clad in plasteel. Unfortunately, thus began Zane's second problem - he was on the floor without full flexibility, without all the traction to floor his body normally would have had - sure, he had the flexibility to maintain the position but that was just about it. Welcome to fighting from the floor.

Unfortunately for Luna, his lightsaber had more reach than a cutlass and he had that thing called the Force to play with; Zane didn't hesitate in throwing another telekinetic push to knock her back and buy himself enough time to get back on his feet. A few seconds' worth, at the very least.

Hey, you have to admit, it's funnier than dodging.
 
One could not bloody well block something that could not be seen. Or, they could, if they knew how. Clearly, Luna Vega was at a loss on this. A one attempt to take it in style once she felt the unnaturalness of wind that came from an air-locked cabin, but the results were...less than graceful. The landing, however, was dulled by her theatrics. By that I mean, when the pirate sailed through the air, she could not seem to touch the deck and her legs were motioning as if she were riding a bike. Eventually the rubber soles scraped the ground and caused the least bit of traction- enough to not have the wall wreck havoc on her back. It took the wind out of her and the savvy young woman was momentarily in a daze.

Days old painted red lips dipped into a sneer, the dry color cracking, more apparent and her gray eyes had gone wild. "Karkin' hippy," drawled the lass, "I bet ye balls are bluer than me hair."

In attempt to distract [member="Zane Watts"] , she bent quickly to grasp and whip the first piece of anything-which happened to be a not quite empty bottle of whiskey- at the already rattled piece of equipment, otherwise known as his junk. It was, by no means, a killing blow. Harhar. See what I did thar? Nah. But just a stun and as soon as the neck left her grip, Luna propelled herself forward, abruptly, not wasting time- let's be honest, there is not too much distance between them, but enough. The corsair's body left the deck in a dive, aiming to spear the man by first appearance, then tucked her torso around her knees that drew in, putting herself in more of a fetal position upon impact, if she made contact within seconds of the attack. One arm was clinging to her chins and the other, around the handle of the blade she wielded. The objective being to take his legs out from under him again.
 
"Lady, I will gladly prove to you how functional my parts are," Zane shot back without hesitation, beaming as he did so. "Wanna play?" One thing about Zane's life, short as it was fated to be, was the fact that he had no time to waste with screwing around. Live hard, die fast - it was all he had going for him. So if he was gonna flirt with the enemy? Hell with it. Flirt as hard as possible. She looked fun.

But cue the bottle to the nuts, and that was about as pleasant an experience as could possibly be dealt with. It actually took Zane delving into the Force to control the pain just for him not to scream out.

When she came diving, it came down to one fact: there was no time to set up or do anything. All Zane had time to do was press the button on his lightsaber and deactivate the blade before he cut himself mid-tackle. He retained his grip on the weapon even as miss Vega smashed into his legs, bowling him over. There was just one flaw with this plan.

She was under him. He was on top. Giggity.

This meant that his weight was now pressing down on her, pinning her to the floor - and in what was probably the greatest moment of insight he'd had that day, he pressed the inactive emitter of his saber blade down towards her back, just like one might press the barrel of a gun to someone's temple. Inactive, it wouldn't do anything. But it was the threat of 'twitch, and I turn this on' - the fact that one button press as fast as he could react with honed Jedi instincts - and she'd be impaled immediately.

"Checkmate."

[member="Luna Vega"]
 
Laughter was barked and blue brows drew up in astonishment, even though they couldn't be seen. "Ya woood use tha hilt of a lightsaber, mate. Compensatin' for somethin', yah?" Vega grunted, careful not to 'twitch' or... even though her body shook with laughter, she would give nothing more. "Or are ya just tha' happy ta sae me?" Yeah, maybe she'd be content to die. Perhaps it was why she was always in sticky situations through no fault but her own. Maybe she just liked the adrenaline rush like a starved junkie lookin' for their next high.

"Ya couldna pull'd tha' off withou'ya powahs and ya glow stick, mage. Ya knoow et, I knoow et." Luna snorted and wheezed a breath at his weight. So far, [member="Zane Watts"] had given her no reason to think otherwise. Needless to say, she'd pick at his ego like a scab just healed over. You never knew until you tried. "Ya thez queck in tha sack too?" A sound of disapproval passed between her pirate smile that was sure enough hidden by azure, disheveled bangs.
 
"You are pretty cute," Zane said, grinning. Not that she'd see it; he was on top of her, not the other way around. "It could be both. I wouldn't say no." Because flirting with the enemy is something you totally did, yes. Truth told, they weren't that different. With only a scant handful of years left to live - and even fewer of those with any kind of youthfulness - then Zane could not afford the waste of time. Every day had to count.

"I could, if I wanted to. Well, except the telekinesis bit. That I couldn't. But I could take you and all your men on my own without the Force if I had to. Commando first, Jedi second. But I'm still a Jedi whether either of us like it or not." Mutiny? Nah. Just the fact that he was torn between duties to two branches of the Republic. He considered himself a career soldier with invisible magic, not a Jedi that fought as a soldier.

Then he looked down, and then in an exceptionally brazen display, pressed his lips near her ear; warm breath, quiet words, hands on her hips now to keep her pinned to the ground. In theory.

"You could find out," Zane murmured. "You wouldn't be disappointed."

[member="Luna Vega"]
 
Swiping her tongue from canine to canine, she sucked in a sliver of air. From there a look was tossed over her shoulder, a stark gray gaze cut from the fall of a beryl mop. "I doona think ya cuud. Ya verry well couldda been under my boot. Thez role.... reversed," Luna gave a sweet, badgering smile, speaking against the corner of his mouth. "Aye... rally, ya hadn't tooched me 'til now. Nay ahh finger." A single brow crooked and the pirate shifted her weight enough to get a once over.

"Ya couldda no handle me, love." Hands still upon her hips, Miss Vega flipped her frame, putting her back and bottom against the floor. Not that it made much difference, other than not being able to see her attacker prior to the move. She wriggled a little in attempt to loosen his grip, but all-in-all ended up only unintentionally grinding herself against [member="Zane Watts"] . To her amazement, Luna managed to hold his gaze the entire time, albeit uncomfortably. "Disappointment is inevitable."
 
Well, whether it was by accident or not, this was getting a lot more interesting very quickly. She pressed against him - consciously or not - and he wasn't too shy to press back. One hand ran into those beautifully coloured locks, still matching her gaze coolly and levelly. One eyebrow quirked in apparent amusement, Zane seemed right at home.

There was no backing out now, was there?

"Brave enough to try, then?" Zane asked, lips still dangerously close to hers, corner to corner, brushing with that steady warmth. It was most certainly starting to heat up here, the air almost electric with tension. She seemed the dangerous type - equally likely to sleep with him as she was to stab him. But that was part of the fun, wasn't it? Live hard, die fast. That was all Zane had. Moment to moment. And this moment had a beautiful woman in it. "Or are you too afraid?"
 
"Aye. I canna afford to be that..." she paused with a curl of her pierced lip. "Were I."

Tap. Tap. She hadn't forgot about her blade, a machete to be precise, but it appeared as if he had. Nothing special about it aside from it being freshly sharpened and the position. It did not necessarily slide along his manly bits, but rather the junction between his left thigh and his pelvis where the armor was... weak. A nick really, and he'd likely bleed out or at best have a constant reminder of their close encounter. "Thez es nae cantina, mate. Ya canno jus buy me ah drink an we're off ta flip the mattress. Thar be werk ta be done, a different sorta payment..." Silver-gray eyes held his. Heartbeat. Thump. Thump. Thump. Azure mopped head tilted just so.

A swipe of her tongue moistened her lips, skated along [member="Zane Watts"] own. "Ye hav'ta earn it, Jeeedai."
 
The slow hiss of air leaving his lips, even as he felt the blade slide across the bodyglove under his armour. It was pain. Pain was something he thrived on, for obvious reasons; to be his level of soldier, you needed to. He coudl deal with that later, when he had a few moments and the Force to heal him. Controlling the pain now was fine, letting it wash over his psyche and become a part of him.

"And never forget when you are so ridiculously outmatched, girl," Zane said - and then hit the activation stud on his lightsaber. A shift of his hands and the dazzling light blue blade sprang to life - less than an inch from the side of her chest. One slip of the weightless blade - a tiny, perfectly controlled motion, so slight that she wouldn't have the reaction time - and he could cause her the pain of a thousand burning suns like she had never felt before. Anything beyond that, and it was death.

"That said..." Zane slowly replied, letting his words hiss out, slippery, carefully. Three fingers skated the side of her face with gauntleted fingers. "I'm not a fan of killing untrained Force-users before they realise their potential."

Bombshell.

[member="Luna Vega"]
 
There it was again, curiously enough, even though the situation warranted terror. Luna Vega let an easy smile loft upon her lips, crooked. Just a smidgen deep on the left, barely there on the right. This was not to say she wasn't scared out of her wits, but rather making light of it all. The pirate wanted to squirm for all she was feeling at once. Then again, she also wanted a drink. "Eff I die, yoou die too, mate. I proooomise ya tha' moch." It was vague; she never said by whom.


"Pooo," she paused, copy-cat hissing, "tenccchhhul." Thin tattooed fingers wriggled in the air as if Luna were mimicking some sort of voodoo spell, or she was trying to work the kinks out. "I hae nuu desir'ta learn craftay magics." Between watching the blade and her new found friend, the corsair's eyes narrowed, flicking to and fro. "Why doona ya take tha' gloowy stick and put it away? Or arr ya just that, a gloowy stick? Ya need that, doona ya, to get teh joob dun?" Vega zeroed in on [member="Zane Watts"]. For all his talk, she thought, he sure relied on his weapon a wee bit more than he should have.
 

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