Eliz listened in silence. A full on assault? Part of him was already trying to plot his way through the building, though he didn't have a layout. He wasn't always going to know the way forward, after all. This made sense. Make use of what information he had. His tools. Fight. Win. He nodded to
Kranak Vizsla
before taking position by the building. Aggression and speed. He repeated that in his head again and again.
There was an obvious problem with the young Mandalorian's thinking. Life in constant battle had dulled his sense of self preservation. The moment it started, it showed. Eliz took off like a bullet, using his augmented speed to rush through the front door with reckless abandon. The result? A trip wire immediately went off. It was the beginning of the end, or so it seemed. The resulting explosion sent him careening into the nearby wall as several of the droids opened fired. He protected himself, utilizing his armor as best he could to protect what was important under the hail of lasers.
Perhaps it was just because of his augmentations he was able to survive such an obvious mistake. His mind processed everything faster. His fractal coating was shorted from the explosion, but the rest of his suit? His jetpack kicked on, sending him from the defensive immediately to the offensive. It was a dumb choice, all things considered. Using a jetpack indoors, at the speed he did, was dumb and reckless. But he could make it work. Inhuman agility and reaction time had him dart through the halls, his charric ripping holes through the droids as he blasted through barricades with no sign of finesse.
Raw, brutal, aggression.
Something had clicked after that first explosion. He didn't care about time. Didn't care about his own life. He just wanted to kill everything that moved. At 5.01 he ripped apart the last droid. His white armor was covered in burn marks. At some point his jetpack had been shot and tossed as a bomb to clear another room. He looked absolutely awful. His armor did a good job tanking shots, but there were obviously parts of his body that weren't covered that had been shot through. They should hurt, but the stims that were coursing through him dulled any pain.
That, and the adrenaline coursing through his body. Even with the last droid felled he still looked around, sprinting through the halls. Searching and researching for something, anything. Someone to save. Someone to kill. He wasn't here. The basic and nondescript walls had become something more to him. Familiar lands. Chiss homes. Droids weren't droids. Maw soldiers, dead, stared up at him as he barreled through the halls again and again.
He wasn't okay.