Kila Cadau
Mando Rally Master (With a metal kneecap)
Kila was tired.
No - not tired. She was exhausted, maybe even beyond that. It was a task keeping her remaining intact eyelid open. She didn't have to worry about the other eye - it had been sliced into so much white spongy tissue months ago.
It wasn't the massive amounts of physical activity that had gotten to her - the running, climbing, shooting, stabbing, fighting, brawling - no, that wasn't the problem. The problem was remembering. There was a definite and very long gap between the prison and a week or two ago - the timeline was fuzzy - and in that gap she had no memories. None. Nada. Zero. Zilch. It was worrying, because there was a clinical nature to the hunk of memory that had been removed. She remembered walking out of the prison, holding a hand over her newly ruined left eye, hearing something, and then -
(nothing)
Nothing at all for months. Her memory worked again when she was standing in an alley, with her weapons and armor, surrounded by a bunch of dead people. Now, she was headed back to Manda'yaim with a massive headache that refused to go away - remembering hurt, too - and a few new injuries she'd picked up, including some hairline fractures in a couple ribs, a gash on her left calf that was oozing blood, and a wicked burn on her right arm. It was tempting - very tempting - to just go the kark to sleep and take her chances on waking up. The leftover Sithly residue that she didn't know about wasn't helping matters either.
But then again, that wasn't Kila's style.
Manda'yaim was close, and she could almost feel it. She was closing in on it in her old, faithful Netra Kyr'am, and she would be damned before she showed up on Manda'yaim out cold.
That just wouldn't be dignified.
No - not tired. She was exhausted, maybe even beyond that. It was a task keeping her remaining intact eyelid open. She didn't have to worry about the other eye - it had been sliced into so much white spongy tissue months ago.
It wasn't the massive amounts of physical activity that had gotten to her - the running, climbing, shooting, stabbing, fighting, brawling - no, that wasn't the problem. The problem was remembering. There was a definite and very long gap between the prison and a week or two ago - the timeline was fuzzy - and in that gap she had no memories. None. Nada. Zero. Zilch. It was worrying, because there was a clinical nature to the hunk of memory that had been removed. She remembered walking out of the prison, holding a hand over her newly ruined left eye, hearing something, and then -
(nothing)
Nothing at all for months. Her memory worked again when she was standing in an alley, with her weapons and armor, surrounded by a bunch of dead people. Now, she was headed back to Manda'yaim with a massive headache that refused to go away - remembering hurt, too - and a few new injuries she'd picked up, including some hairline fractures in a couple ribs, a gash on her left calf that was oozing blood, and a wicked burn on her right arm. It was tempting - very tempting - to just go the kark to sleep and take her chances on waking up. The leftover Sithly residue that she didn't know about wasn't helping matters either.
But then again, that wasn't Kila's style.
Manda'yaim was close, and she could almost feel it. She was closing in on it in her old, faithful Netra Kyr'am, and she would be damned before she showed up on Manda'yaim out cold.
That just wouldn't be dignified.