Public GUTTER FIST

[Tansu Treicolt]

​

"Ohmigod so cute! Gettim little guy!" Tansu was briefly dazzled by the bravery of the tiny fox with the equally tiny lightsabre. But the chaos of the entire situation rattled her from staring after the fluffy Jedi for too long. "I didn't know they made sabres that tiny. I love it." She said briefly, nearly conspiratorially to Talsin, lest he call her offensive again. So she was a little backwater from time to time, didn't mean she was totally xenophobic.

Talsin rejected her idea climb to gangway, insisting influence would be more effective from within the crowd itself. This was probably the one and only situation where an argument wasn't fast to find her tongue, especially since the action gave no room for pause. She ducked instinctively as a bolt sizzled past — its heat kissing her cheek.

Behind her, Talsin swayed—his hand clutching her wrist, jaw tight, eyes distant in that way he got when his head left the room before his body followed. She'd seen him do it before, stretching that big ol' heart of his over a crowd like a warm blanket and comforting people to calm. He'd done it on that station outpost once upon a time, but this time was different. He hissed, a sound sharp and real, and then—just like that—he was back in himself.

Her nostrils flared and she made a huff sound because she hated the look in his eyes — the same he often found frustration with when she gleamed similarly —the look that always came before he did something dangerous and noble and stupid.

Her hand found his bicep and squeezed. "Alright. You go huntin' the bad guys and I'll go corrallin' up our people. I got Talin and company on my radar. She's with an old friend over thattaway."

Tansu moved with heat in her heels, pushing through overturned chairs and stampeding patrons. Her boot caught the edge of a downed table and she vaulted it, landing hard, one hand flinging forward to send a Force push that toppled two armed thugs into a drink stand. The bottle of something blue and flammable went up in a puff of smoke and sparks.

"TALIN!" she barked, loud enough to hopefully draw blaster attention away from her sister's cover. "Y'ALRIGHT?"

And just as she surged forward to join the cluster of Morrow, Jon and Talin a Dowutin barreled out of the smoke. Easily nine feet tall, thick-shouldered and tusked, he looked like a walking boulder with a grudge.

"YOU!" he roared, voice like cracking mountain face. "I LOST EVERY CREDIT I HAD TONIGHT! THE BOY AGAINST MIRILIAN, AND I BET ON THE DAMN ITHORIAN!!! Jerec Asyr WAS MEANT TO WIN!!!! A HUMAN? HOW'S Rel Ahn-Dross A HUMAN WIN? ONLY BECAUSE OF YOU. I LOST IT ALL!!!" Apparently a grudge was all he had — and his mean streak made up for his lack of a winning streak.

Tansu didn't have time to dodge. He caught her mid-step and slammed her bodily into a wall panel, her ribs lighting up with fire on impact.
"I'll kill you cheatin' scum! This is all your fault! All of it!" he bellowed.

Before she could argue she wasn't even the one takin' bets that night, a wild bolt from elsewhere in the room found its way to her side—searing a line just beneath her ribs. Her breath vanished. She didn't even feel herself fall, just the jolt of floor against her back and the warm stickiness that followed.

She gasped, eyes brightening with with tears that she wouldn't let fall. While she tried to inhale, the room exploded in haze. Powder and smoke blasted outward in a dry, chalky wave. Her wound flared, lungs stinging as the powder burned its way in with every breath. Shapes blurred. Light dissolved. Tansu blinked hard, vision swimming. She pulled the collar of her shirt up over her mouth, blood soaking into the fabric, and forced herself upright just in time to squint and see an unmistakeable shape move through the haze — fast, low, and glowing with the connection that made it definitely Talin.

One stagger, a step too shallow, and then she forcibly leaned toward her sister, arm hooking around her neck, jaw tight against a cry.

"Kriff—there you are." Her voice was low, more air than sound, but her grip didn't loosen, stubborn and hot with adrenaline. "Took you long enough."

Blood smeared down her side, already soaking the hem of her shirt and staining Talin's sleeve as she leaned in. She'd taken a hit that was going to slow her down and she hated that and it also hurt way more than any of the training blasts she'd ever had and it felt like a storm she couldn't see. She didn't wanna look.

"We need to move. This smoke ain't cover, gotta be a dang curtain and someone's slippin' out behind it. We gotta make 'em pay. They can't get away with this. They're ruinin' us, Lin." The urgency she felt bled through their bond, making speech superfluous when she could fill their minds ripe with suggestion: Even a piece of fabric, or discarded weapon! Then we could read it and hunt 'em down.

Talsin would feel the prickle of her suggestion too, given the weave of their bond. More appropriate direction for him, since he was closer to the bad guys.

____________________________________________________________
WAS: Talsin Lota | Ren
IS: Talin Treicolt | Jonath Kago | Morrow
WILL BE: Jordi Massad | The Faceless
AROUND: Jerec Asyr | Rel Ahn-Dross
____________________________________________________________
​

 

[Jonath Kago]

It was something of progress to inch a bit closer to one of the few exits available in the Drop albeit slow only to divert their path to find Talin’s sister. There wasn’t a second to protest and Jon followed suit still being sharp with his blaster pistol, appreciating the defense the blonde Jedi provided to him and the stranger. The trio then found a wounded Tansu, her wound critical to be able to perform and keep up at their pace. A quick glance and he could guess they were twins.

The same dowutin that attacked Tansu was still about, focused on the group with violent intentions. He knew that look and his stimuli reacted involuntarily as it reacted on a basis of survival. Without hesitation and remorse he rapidly shot down the alien at center mass. It took more shots than usual due to its thick hide, but the assailant did eventually fall on fours the injuries overwhelming its body.

But it wasn’t enough for Jon. He could’ve ignored the tough alien after its fall, but a killer instinct commanded him to make sure it would stay down. Permanently. A single shot fired at its head, smoke from the bolt rising from its impact. Not a hint of emotion on his face except for a silent glare.

A violent explosion of glass snapped him out from his focus, returning his attention to his band of unique mischiefs. He was putting one and one together trying to find a solid strategy to guarantee a chance of survival.

“They can't get away with this. They're ruinin' us, Lin."

Uh, what?

“Yeaaaah, now is not the time to wanting to get even. We have more important things to take care of,” like getting the hell out of here alive. If Talin was to carry a limping Tansu that limited their “sword and shield” tactic. Again that instinct of survival wanted to take lead causing him to wince. Like something symbiotic wanted to preserve its host.

“I’ve got an idea,” not a pretty one and he wasn’t about to share to avoid a discussion of morals. Jon’s eyes focused on a retreating patron; a weequay bandit. He threw a sucker punch at the unsuspecting weequay and quickly caught and grabbed him using him as a shield. “C’mon! It’s this or a pool of our own blood,” and pressed forward. Blaster bolts struck his body shield and killed the bandit; Jon was hoping Morrow would be at his side to return fire while he held up the corpse upright and the twins following his lead.

Talin Treicolt | Tansu Treicolt | Morrow | Ren | Talsin Lota | Jordi Massad​

 

[Ren]

Chaos engulfed the area. A mass of panicked, fleeing people, gunfire, and lit lightsabers.

Ren could do little more than smack bolts up and away, and even then he had to be so very careful with his swings. It only took him a few seconds to realize that this would not work. If he kept wielding his saber this way he might accidentally cut an innocent.

Smoke clogged the air, stung his vision. He squinted, blinking through tears, could barely see.

The Jedi heard more shouting from behind him and turned back to see the human girl he bumped into was limping, blood soaking her shirt. Ren could feel her pain. He fell back to that little group, the ones who seemed to have organized these fights, but were also... Jedi?

Ren's green blade cast a glow on his features as he jogged up, ducking blaster bolts, to rejoin them.

Then he saw one of the humans in the group grab what looked like a fleeing weequay. Ren could not see if he had any weapons, but he did see what happened next.

Jon’s eyes focused on a retreating patron; a weequay bandit. He threw a sucker punch at the unsuspecting weequay and quickly caught and grabbed him using him as a shield.

Blaster bolts struck his body shield and killed the bandit;

"What are you doing?" Ren cried out, scrambling over to them, checking the Weequay's pulse. Nothing. He pulled his paw away, soaked in blood. Sad, small black eyes turned toward Jonath, "She is hurt," he pointed toward Tansu, "I will help you escape, but don't do that again."

No jurisdiction here. No time for lectures on morality. Ren didn't want to give any either. He just wanted them to get out alive. All of them. They would find who was responsible, eventually.

He held his lightsaber before him, at a guard stance, prepared to deflect away more blaster bolts.

Tansu Treicolt | Talin Treicolt | Morrow | Talsin Lota | Jordi Massad

 

[Morrow]

_____________________________________________________
​

“I’ll cover ya.”

Morrow watched the bookie abandon cover per his appeal, expecting her to be shot immediately and make a fitting enough distraction for him to attempt an escape. What he saw instead was so confounding it nearly left him stupefied. Precise strokes deflected every flash of oncoming fire, with no sign of effort or strain, just batting every bolt away like it was nothing.

"What?" he croaked in disbelief. He'd seen glimpses of such a thing in holodramas, overheard stories about Jedi and their alleged capabilities, but he'd never believed it. Who in their right mind would have? Now it was beyond doubt, happening right before his eyes, but how? Why the bookie of all people? Surely a Jedi wouldn't be co-running a gambling scheme. Who was she?

“This way.”

“C’mon! It’s this or a pool of our own blood!”

With his 'allies' pushing forward, Morrow had no choice but to snap out of it. He shook his head, forcing the sense back into himself, and whirled one-eighty to vault over the table, following behind the bookie and the stranger. As the room gradually filled with smoke, Morrow struggled to provide his accomplices, or more importantly, himself, with any kind of covering fire. He snapped shots towards where he saw muzzle flashes, and toward anywhere that he intuitively felt a sense of danger. The opportunity to procure his own meat shield never presented itself, leaving him little choice but to stick uncomfortably close to the stranger, hoping the Weequay was enough cover for both of them.

When the second bookie caught up to them, it was immediately apparent she was in bad shape. Her only real use in her current state would be as another piece of portable cover. But, much to his frustration, Morrow decided it was better not to seize her. Though she would only slow them down, it was obvious the saber-wielder wouldn't let her sister be used, nor leave her behind. Those blaster-denying capabilities were too valuable to disfavor, and Morrow was keen on exploiting them to ensure his survival.

"What are you doing?"

Morrow looked down to see the small creature that had joined their band of resistance during the push. Gripped in its tiny paws was a lightsaber. Another lightsaber. Was this one a Jedi? What the hell was going on here?

"I will help you escape, but don't do that again."

The sight of the little alien effortlessly parrying blaster fire right after a moral protest struck a nerve. "It's kill or be killed, you little skug-rag!" Morrow shouted bitterly, his objection nearly drowned by blaster fire. "Shut up and fight!"

_____________________________________________________

Allies whom I totally wouldn't immediately betray for survival:
Talin Treicolt | Tansu Treicolt | Jonath Kago | Ren
Everyone else:
Talsin Lota | Rel Ahn-Dross | Jordi Massad | Jerec Asyr | The Faceless​

 

[The Faceless]

The carnage escalated, bodies scattered whether dead or injured. The lucky few who escaped were by the exits, and the rest fought for their survival. There was some resistance, but what was concerning for the operatives was the unforgettable presence of the Jedi. A simple man and a…fox?

Still an inconvenience and not one to trifle with despite outnumbering them.

"This isn't the place for you." "Lay down your arms and no harm will come to you today, I promise!"

The Jedi tried to plead and negotiate, but Meldes would not have it. He’d much rather die than to barter with someone of their ilk. At Massad’s cue of shooting an extinguisher they would scramble, though to make sure they had leverage a random Pantoran man was grabbed and held as a hostage. Sure, it would slow their movement but they could always undermine the Jedi’s values with the life of the man.

<“Everyone, grab a hostage you can control! We’re not leaving empty handed,”> a command to the surviving Imperial operatives via comms. The more hostages, they better their chances of escaping.

Talsin Lota | Tansu Treicolt | Talin Treicolt | Ren | Morrow | Jordi Massad​

 

[Jerec Asyr]

Jerec regained consciousness to the sound of blasterfire and sobbing, a combination that put him in mind of some of the worst prisons in Alliance space. He felt strongly that if his body hadn't just burned through its whole reserve of adrenaline, he'd have been in a fetal ball of memory right now.

Those Toydarian friends had un-dislocated his left arm, but both arms still hurt with the kind of strain that made him hesitate to count on them for either dexterity or strength. He blinked widely. His vision, at least, was fine now. He was in some kind of alcove. He was not currently armed. He was alone. Through smoke and flashes of others' pain and intense loopiness, he was a witness.

A distant premonition pulled Morrow's eyes down to the man's hands. That's when he noticed the blaster.

Morrow shot first.

“I’ve got an idea,” not a pretty one and he wasn’t about to share to avoid a discussion of morals. Jon’s eyes focused on a retreating patron; a weequay bandit. He threw a sucker punch at the unsuspecting weequay and quickly caught and grabbed him using him as a shield. “C’mon! It’s this or a pool of our own blood,” and pressed forward. Blaster bolts struck his body shield and killed the bandit; Jon was hoping Morrow would be at his side to return fire while he held up the corpse upright and the twins following his lead.

"What are you doing?" Ren cried out, scrambling over to them, checking the Weequay's pulse. Nothing. He pulled his paw away, soaked in blood. Sad, small black eyes turned toward Jonath, "She is hurt," he pointed toward Tansu, "I will help you escape, but don't do that again."

The opportunity to procure his own meat shield never presented itself, leaving him little choice but to stick uncomfortably close to the stranger, hoping the Weequay was enough cover for both of them.

though to make sure they had leverage a random Pantoran man was grabbed and held as a hostage. Sure, it would slow their movement but they could always undermine the Jedi’s values with the life of the man.

<“Everyone, grab a hostage you can control! We’re not leaving empty handed,”>

He stared balefully at the operatives shooting up the place. He stared balefully at the knot of Jedi and spacers opposing them, and at the Weequay bandit who lay dead.

A miniature Toydarian news commentator started warbling insubstantially in Jerec's ear.

Now, a couple things to understand about Jerec Asyr, folks. He's lived on Denon — Lum Rouge, Seven Corners, not so far from Gutterline 12 — most of the last forty years. That Pantoran owes him money. That Weequay was a groomsman at his third marriage. Little fuzzy on the name but it's coming back to him.

The other thing you oughta know about Jerec Asyr: ever since the Jedi murdered his copilot, he hasn't been that fond of Jedi.

Jerec lurched to his feet and took a deep, shaky breath in both sides of his neck, feeling pain tighten and loosen, tighten and loosen in his chest. He looked at that Weequay.

The very first casualty had been killed with a blaster in his hands. That blaster twitched, creaked, groaned, and slid through the bloody mess of the floor to land in Jerec's grip. He lined up on Jonath Kago and Ren and started firing.

"This one's for Lurkvap."

Hey hey, he remembered the name.

 

[Ren]

"It's kill or be killed, you little skug-rag!" Morrow shouted bitterly, his objection nearly drowned by blaster fire. "Shut up and fight!"

The Amaran's ears flicked once and his eyes narrowed. Instead of answering, he took in a breath and held it.

There is no passion, there is serenity.

Reaching out, he tried to immerse himself in the Force.

There is no anger, there is peace. Please. Show me the way.

The Force answered almost immediately.

The very first casualty had been killed with a blaster in his hands. That blaster twitched, creaked, groaned, and slid through the bloody mess of the floor to land in Jerec's grip. He lined up on Jonath Kago Jonath Kago and Ren Ren and started firing.

"This one's for Lurkvap."

The kyber green shoto snapped up to deflect the Ithorian's blaster bolts up and away. Ren could feel the Ithorian's pain in the Force, his loss, and his anger. Ren's dark eyes darted down to the body of the Weequay, then back to the Ithorian. Renard's whiskers twitched and he struggled forward, ears flattening against his skull as he bat away bolt after bolt.

"Wait -" he tried to squeak over the chorus of blasterfire and the nearby screams, "Wait, please - Lurkvap. This was Lurkvap?" he pointed one paw, toward the fallen Weequay, the other on the shoto. Guilt overcame the Amaran. He felt his words were true. He had not been fast enough to save Lurkvap. He had let down an innocent, chequered as that innocent's past may have been. He did not deserve to die like this, used as a meat shield by an angry young human.


"I will come with you - I will surrender. Just let them go," he gestured back at the group of young humans.

 

[Rel Ahn-Dross]

---

He'd laid there.

Silent.

Largely unmoving.

It would be easy to discount him or ignore him altogether. Maybe the rigors of the amplified scream that had wracked his body had incapacitated him. It had been quite a battle with Jerec Asyr .

No, like a predator he was laying in weight. The Anger that burned in his chest festered like a hot coal against his breast. When the time was right he released it.

Blasterfire went off. Explosions. Screaming. As his vision cleared blurred silhouettes became bodies. Gritting his teeth, jaw clenched he'd drive his fists into the remnants of the ring where he'd been laying after his fight and push himself up while a horrible cry, a mixture of rage and fury split from his mouth....

"RAAAAAARRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!!"

...the scream was not like the Ithorians, it held no power other than its own however the telekinetic force the blasted outwards and released itself from his core was an entirely different matter.

Like a bubble it expanded outwards until it popped, the release of energy coincided with the war-cry that split from his mouth. Bodies would be thrown, what remained of the ring would be shattered as everything within his vicinity was pushed away. Debris flew, whether that be man or the mundane.

This had supposed to have been an opportunity for him to release his frustrations in the ring. Now only a red thirst clouded his vision.

Tansu Treicolt Talin Treicolt Ren Morrow Jonath Kago Jordi Massad Talsin Lota The Faceless

 

[Jerec Asyr]

"I will come with you - I will surrender. Just let them go," he gestured back at the group of young humans.

As Rel Ahn-Dross 's Force scream/shockwave rocked another part of the structure, Jerec laid off the gunfire and lurched over to loom.

"Includes whoever used Lurkvap as a Weequay shield, yeh?" He glared at the retreating youths and refocused his ire on the Jedi who was covering for a murderer. Misplaced nobility, maybe, or some kind of personal connection or shared allegiance. Hate bubbled up hot, but that scream had suggested that staying here was even less wise than a minute ago.

"I want your name and his," he said to Ren

He smiled wide and insincerely out both sides of his neck and loomed a little more.

"To file a complaint."

 

[Ren]

As the Ithorian ceased firing, Ren triggered the ignition stud on his shoto. The blade shrank out of existence with a whoosh.

“Of course. I am Jedi Knight Renard Fenn,” the Amaran replied, ears flicking up. He looked over a shoulder, at the young humans.

“I do not know their names,” he let out a small sigh through the nose, “I only met one before the shooting started. They were frightened.”

Small, dark eyes panned back, watched the Ithorian stranger closely.

“I don’t know if they are Jedi.” They could be, but none Ren had ever met.

“I am sorry I could not save your friend. Would you like… help? Moving his body, that is. There must be a medical center nearby.”

Jerec Asyr

 

[Jerec Asyr]

Jerec turned his fury into power and made a fist. Lurkvap's body jolted upright with hydraulic force. He grabbed Lurkvap's arm and settled the bloody, blaster-charred corpse over his shoulders regardless of the pain. He thought of confiscating the lightsaber or punting Ren through the nearest compromised wall, but his sense of fun was not in gear. He'd probably regret that tomorrow. The shoto would've been a nice addition to his collection.

"What medcenter? This isn't your skyscraper temple, Fenn. Lurkvap'll get where he's going." Jerec hissed out one side of his mouth and stumped for the door, heedless of other carnage.

 

[Ren]

Ren winced at the words, ears wilting, but he nodded slowly. He tried to calm the momentary panic of Lurkvap apparently lurching back to his feet and fears of Sith sorcery. There had been evil done today - and by those who might pretend to be Jedi. The Ithorian’s pain and fury were palpable. Nothing Ren could say or do in this moment would make matters right. A life was taken in anger and fear. More lives were still being taken, all around them, as the massacre rolled on.

And Fenn found himself here, seeking to change the tide with an act of what - kindness? No. Not even that. He could only try to take the right action and hope that it moved the needle, put one less life in danger, gave hope to one more in need.

He wasn’t sure he had accomplished any of that today.

Some investigation.

Ren straightened his spine and made an Amaran gesture of farewell with his paw, tracing the half-moon at the retreating Ithorian’s figure.

“You are right. Go with the Force.”

Jerec Asyr