Starting Line

[James Justice]

He did it. He did it.

The stupid kid had broken the first rule of the galaxy: never mess with the man with the bigger gun. James didn't want any trouble, honestly he didn't. Part of him wanted to play it off, smile appologize, and carry on. If the kid had asked him to put it out, that was exactly what would have happened. Or even if he would have demanded. But he hadn't. He had been a dolt and a dunderhead, looking to fight with one of the best bar-room fighters in the outer rim. James had to teach the child other wise, after all he would let the kid live the next guy--probably wouldn't.

When the gang looked back at the massive cyborg that had come up behind them, the spacer made his move. Their foolery had opened a window six miles wide. And they would regret it. His fist came up in a heavy uppercut that crashed into the leader's jaw with all James' weight. As the youth went clattering back, they others were frozen in a moment of disbelief. James lurched to his right, his fist going in a powerful hammer-fist that landed on one's face with a loud crack, it took a dizzying step back. His compatriot on the other side lunged for James, who used their diminuative size to his advantage and easily planted the sole of his boot into its face. The sound of its crunching facial bones and howls of agony filled the car.

The leader had recovered in time to lung foward with a haymaker to James' ribs. It landed and pushed the man off balance, forcing him to wobble back. This was enough of an opening, two more charged in at once, their fists flying. But James recovered enough to counter. He blocked one as he side stepped the other's blow, tripping it onto its face. Spinning around the one he had blocked, James grabbed his head and boinked it on a pole, knocking the amphibian out cold.

James cast a glance back at Triter, 'Sorry mate,' before the fight resumed and another gangster launched themselves at the spacer.

[member="The Talatheen Amalgam"]
[member="Triter Zone"]

 

[Triter Zone]

[member="James Justice"]
[member="The Talatheen Amalgam"]

Triter watched as the leader of the amphibian gang went crashing back, laid out by a solid blow from the near-human. Immediately, two others charged him, going down in similar fashion, one of them taking a heavy boot to the face which sent them to the floor, croaking and moaning in pain.
The leader, meanwhile, snarled and backed up, pacing warily before the larger being as James struggled with one of his subordinates.
He wiped a dribble of foamed blood from his jaw.
"You idiots!" He admonished. "You all have venom and blasters for kark's sake!"
Meanwhile, further down the shuttle, the two other gangsters took a step back from the huge, robed figure of Talatheen. They visibly hesitated, unsure whether to first deal with the immediate threat, or go back and help their associates.
They decided, perhaps foolishly, on a compromise.
"We'll deal with you later!"
In unison, the two amphibians opened their mouths, spitting globs of black, sticky, paralytic venom into the humanoid's face. It splattered...
...on the environment-sealed mask.

Triter, meanwhile, felt instincts kicking in as he dodged a stream of venom meant for James. The Amaran gave a cry of warning before feeling cold, moist hands on his arms, looking around behind him to see another group of disreputable-looking Shawda Ubb climbing aboard behind him. One of them had gotten the space pirate in a half nelson, one hand holding a blaster to his temple.
"Hold it, dry-skiNYAAAAAAH!"
The amphibian gangster cried out in pain and released the Amaran as Triter sank small but exceedingly sharp vulpine teeth into his arm. The space pirate spun around, grabbing the alien and holding him as a shield against several streams of venom fired his way. He then shoved the rapidly stiffening being at his compatriots boarding the shuttle; Triter produced the metal hilt of a fire blade in his hand, which ignited with a crackle. His other hand produced an antique blaster pistol.
Around him and James, more of the Shawda Ubb criminals closed in; the Amaran found himself backed up against the near-human, gritting his teeth.
"Kark, I've gotten sloppy..." He muttered. "Careful, that venom they're hawking! It's a paralytic agent!"

 

[The Talatheen Amalgam]

[member="Triter Zone"]
[member="James Justice"]

He had asked politely; to step aside, to walk away from the confrontation that exploded before him. Yes, the little toad people irritated him; he sought peace however, not because of some dogma - but because he truly felt, deep within his collective selves, that he just wasn't in the mood. No, he was in the mood, but also not in the mood. It was a complex scenario, up until the point he suddenly became the target for projectile-vomiting amphibious dwarves who harked up a paralytic loogie all over his face. Black, congealed fluid spilled down his mask; completely eradicating all fear of the effects - it would not reach his bare skin so easily, and perhaps, should any particles become airborne, the veil of durasteel and bronzium was equally equipped to deal with such a situation. The effect of their attack was completely negated; no, it had completely backfired - Talatheen was set on the warpath. However, in the meantime, he sought to ponder exactly what the Hell had just happened - had the little ones spit on him? Why does it stink? Is it tar?

He shrugged, his hand folded out before him, the collective dust of the pebble still gracing his palm with sand-like consistency. He rubbed his thumb across this, dusting it from his grip, before he struck; his hand lashed out, grabbing the Shawda Ubb gangster on the far right by the collar. The little, slimy fellow seemed to hesitate, unsure of how initially the cyborg had resisted his venom - however, he had little time to work out such a complex enigma in his little head; for such a little head was quickly rammed into the ceiling. Talatheen had little need of the Force to work his way around such problems - his height and augmented strength were enough to do the trick; it was little work to swiftly slam the tiny being headfirst into the ceiling with enough force to dent the frame. He felt the skull softly collapse, like an eggshell - blood spilled down upon him; he lowered the mass of carrion, granting his compatriot the briefest moment to ponder what exactly they had done before he struck again. The corpse was dropped; the partner in crime, still breathing, fumbled for his blaster; Talatheen struck, and the native thug, too, was lifted from the ground.

This time, not by physical strength, but through the echoes of the Force. It was little work to Talatheen, his azure, taloned hand stretched forth from the dusky shroud of cloth and pulled upon the strings of the ethereal; bound to him, it ensnared the creature, dragging it through the air by its throat. He granted the being a moment of thought, to ponder that last, minute essence of life that it so desperately grasped at, then squeezed his hand into a fist, snapping its neck like a twig. The body fell, crumpled; beyond this confrontation he saw the pair fight as well - combating a horde of natives in a volley of punches, poison volleys, and blasterfire. They were forced back-to-back, and Talatheen... well, he just stood there, watching the confrontation erupt. He even briefly considered the option to site back down; he might have done so, had the battle not grown to such heights - he would be hit as a bystander. His hands slipped into the folds of his robes, conjuring forth the frame of his personal rifle: Red Ice, the DAX-158 Blaster Rifle he so greatly treasured - he would clean up this mess if need be. He had places to be after all.

"No time to waste letting a Vulpinoid and a smartass do all the work. It'll- it will be by 'morrow that this mess ends... over. Gotta handle it- I gotta."

 

[James Justice]

When the sucky mucus stuff and blaster bolts began flying..... it went from a lesson to a butcher bath. They were past words, past teaching. Rotten to the core.

Time.

To.

Die.

His DeathHammer came out in a flash and tore a hole through one's skull, splattering its half-fried brains on the back of the transport in a gory display. The passengers on the transport gave a gasp of horror.

"Got it, mate," he said with a nod. "Why do these fools never fething learn?"

This was all a game to James, a walk in the park. Enough to make many question his sanity. A phelm-like spat hit him--on his leather jacket. James howled in laughter, firing three shots that tore a massive hole through the being's body. It was horrific. James had no idea who the Cyborg was, but he was good so far and that was all that mattered today. Apparently today was going to be an odd one. He could work with that. Although--

"Who you calling 'smartarse?" James asked sending another ill-chosen amphibian to the afterlife.

[member="The Talatheen Amalgam"]
[member="Triter Zone"]

 

[Sprint Kelly]

Aliens climbed in and Sprint Kelly climbed out. Well... Out of his rent-a-car that is.

"Whoa! Now I know I heard Mr Justice knew how to throw a party? But this is ridiculous!"

The tall human male raised an eyebrow at the display before him. Stopping for a shuttle and then you get the stick instead. Talatheen's goons were everywhere. Hocking goo, and guns, and headlocks everywhere. Whoa. Then there was the bus' boxing bouncers. [member="Triter Zone"] , of sharpened teeth. [member="The Talatheen Amalgam"] , of mysterious spells. And of course, [member="James Justice"] , who was busy shipping all these damned reptiles back to hell in a handbasket.

"Kark damn son!?"

Kelly cried as he slammed his door. His expression and frustration were just about out of control. Just what in the kark was happening right now? Was this really going down? A gangbang on a bus. Whoa brother. That was ice cold. Justice Shipping cold.

"Well... Can't leave a Amaran waiting! Let's do this fishes!"

He pulled out his DL-44 and aimed at the door. Letting all the chaos began anew. Yep. Aliens climbed in and Sprint Kelly jammed out. Well... Out of his mind, that is.

frap frap frap frap

"Yeah. Yeah. Come get some!"

Ah. Just another day on the job.

___

 

[Triter Zone]

[member="The Talatheen Amalgam"]
[member="James Justice"]
[member="Sprint Kelly"]

As Triter, James, Talatheen and Sprint battled against a mob of Shawda Ubb street toughs, a being in a different part of the spaceport spoke to a hologram of a member of the group.
"They're tough, boss!" The amphibian gangster croaked. From the background of the projection, it could be seen that the diminutive being had taken shelter behind a seat on the shuttle. The sound of brawling and blaster fire could be heard. "We found this James Justice guy, like you said, but he ain't no pushover! Plus he has friends with 'im! Or I'm pretty sure they're friends... one of 'em levitated Scabs off the deck and broke his neck! I think he might be a Jedi or a Sith or somethin'!"
The figure watching the projection was shrouded in shadow, but gnarled, three-fingered hands could be seen digging into the padded arms of the seat he occupied.
"Firstly, Yelthamcathtelab, you were only supposed to warn him off. Obviously, you provoked him somehow, and from this man's reputation, that's not something you want to do. You brought this on yourself, really."
"Boss-"
A hand raised for silence.
"I don't want Justice Shipping on my planet, Yelth; wherever they set down, they tend to end up running things. I run things here, is that clear?"
"Y-Yes, boss, but-"
The hands steepled.
"Get your people off the bus; you've done enough damage already. I'll be coming to deal with this personally."
"O-Of course-"
"And Yelth."
"B-Boss?"
"I won't speak to the health of anyone you leave behind."

Triter, meanwhile, continued to fight in the style of an experienced street fighter. A veteran of many cantina brawls and light-fights, he knew how to handle large groups; his fire blade sliced at anything that got close, blaster picking off those that didn't.
Suddenly, though, there was a loud croak, and the attacks lessened.
Triter watched as their opponents - those who could still stand at least - began to retreat, spitting and firing as they went, but gradually leaving the shuttle. The Amaran continued to fire at them, unease building in him as he considered their reason for pulling back.
We're getting a lot of them, but they have us outnumbered... they could just keep coming until they wore us down. What gives?
He looked over his shoulder at James and the other two beings in the shuttle. The cyborg has brought out some kind of custom blaster rifle, and was easily handling all comers; there was a newcomer as well, a dark-skinned human Triter had never seen before, who was almost gleefully laying into the gangsters with a hand blaster.
"Heads up!" Triter called to everyone. "They're pulling back! I'll bet good credits that means they're up to something!"

 

[The Talatheen Amalgam]

[member="Triter Zone"]
[member="Sprint Kelly"]
[member="James Justice"]

After Talatheen had finished erupting his fair share of blasterfire into the enemies' slimy flank, he drew his attention to the little Amaran; the smoking barrel of his gun rising steadily: "What- no why have you aggravated them so? I-" He shuffled his feet, as if contemplating the words; he froze soon after, his head snapping up to watch down the length of the internal corridor. "I am, relatively, plagued by considerable... frustration? Neigh, melancholy; I am sad." He turned away and began to march down the length of the transport, flanked by empty seats scorched by the exchange of plasma, ash, and the occasional body; one such body, of a Shawda Ubb, he grabbed by the foot and flung, with disturbing ease, against the adjacent wall - which it collided against with a sickly splat as its bulbous body seemed to deflate as blood exited the body. "I am depressed; why do I feel this way? No, not depressed; it is the mounting pressure of... frustration. Neigh, it is melancholy again."

He turned again, facing the small group of allies whom he had joined upon this siege; his eyes racing across them: the small, fox-like vulpinoid, who had a partial air of attraction, almost like a gravitational pull, about him - strange; the human, who had started this poor scenario via equally human hubris; the dark-skinned man, who had appeared out of nowhere, screaming and hollering; and their faithful companion, the Shawda Ubb, who cowered beneath a pile of ravaged luggage- Wait a minute. Talatheen zoned in on the tiny creature, peeking its head forth from its cover, hoping to assess, perhaps, they were distracted, so it might make a break for the door; unfortunately, the cyborg was closing in. Stepping around whatever compatriot stood in his way, the Amalgam began unloading the remain energy cell of his rifle into the junk; nothing would be walking away from that. And once he confirmed that the creature was no more than a smoking, twisted, and mangled piece of French cuisine, he turned his attention back to them.

"I subject myself to the assumption of... I am manic. Stop pulling me into battles, I'm- I am trying to take a nap; long day, long day."

 

[James Justice]

James holstered his weapon at last, as he watched the cyborg blast one of the locals to the unlife. He was saying--something. James was wincing, trying, trying to wrap his head around what the fellow was saying. Then he realized why it made no sense; he was high. Sure, he thought a little Glitterstem would do that, or maybe a lot of glitterstem.

"Sure, mate," he said giving the fellow a comforting arm pat, "Ye just sleep it off. It will all be better when it wears off."

Poor fellow. Took a hit of spice, only to have the stuff wasted during a fight. James could only guess what sort of trip he was on. Probably a mixture of disturbing and wildly wonderful, judging by the erratic behavior. He looked to Triter and grinned, wiping a bit of sweat and blood from his forehead, "Thank ye mate, sorry that ye had to see that."

Were they gone for now? Looked like it. Would they be back? Probably. But he would take care of it later. His eyes flitted from Triter to see the familiar face of Sprint Kelly. Ah, yes, one of his employees. The spacer gave him a broad grin and waved him over, "Right on time, mate, glad ye rolled in when ye did."

[member="Triter Zone"]
[member="Sprint Kelly"]
[member="The Talatheen Amalgam"]

 

[Sprint Kelly]

Sprint looked up from behind his rent-a-car. More than a little distraught at the embers burning all around him. His vehicle had been smashed into little tiny pieces of burning metal. Dented and burned with blaster scars, necrotic slime, and probably a few aquatically aligned insults too. It lay smoldering a wreckage that was obviously not going to be covered his insurance policy. Ugh... So much for last month's paycheck. Geez.

Looking completed defeat, Kelly boarded the banger-bus and holstered his gun. Greeted by none other than [member="James Justice"] ,

"Thank you Mr Justice. But..."

He motioned to the broken vehicle outside.

"I think the toadies smashed my ride, man."

Kelly could only shrug with disappointment. It did appear that everyone on the bus had fair just about as well too. [member="The Talatheen Amalgam"] looked unscathed but the little guy [member="Triter Zone"] seemed awful nervous still. Prompting Kelly to look outside the windows for more trouble,

"Ah nah. Wait. You don't think they're coming back again? Do you!?"

Oh gosh. He couldn't handle this. If he got wounded in another gunfight today his girlfriend would kill him. Straight up, kill him. Ugh. Frak my life. This was not how he thought this day was gonna go.

 

[Triter Zone]

[member="Sprint Kelly"]
[member="James Justice"]
[member="The Talatheen Amalgam"]

Triter gritted his teeth as he looked up out of the window, half-crouching behind a row of seats with his blaster held ready in one hand. Amarans were not known for it, but their species was descended from predators; thousands of years of civilization and interstellar travel had only buried their instincts, not eliminated them.
Triter, especially after the events of a few moments prior, had felt such instincts come to the surface. He was a fleet, quick-thinking forest hunter, and deeply rooted survival drives made him keenly aware of everything that was happening, as well as what might be coming...
The Shawda Ubb had retreated, leaving only their dead. Triter could see a few of them still running across the open duracrete of the starport, heading for buildings in the distance; already they were well out of range.
Why so far away?
The fur on the back of Amaran's neck prickled.
Minimum safe distance. Has to be it. Safe distance from what?
Triter turned to look at the others on the shuttle.
"Don't apologize, friend, we were in a tight spot..." He replied to James, checking the power cell on his weapon. "...poor frogs picked the wrong time and place and method to mess with you, though. I think they realized that..."
He looked at the other two beings, grinning a little.
"And you two! Good show, back there! Sorry you had to get caught up in all this..."
He shook his head.
"But I don't think it's over. My guess is that they're going to come back with something to even out the odds... at least."

 

[James Justice]

James gave Kelly a friendly slap on the arm, "Send me the bill, mate, I'll cover it for ye."

As a rule, he would always take care of his employees when they needed it. That was what he did. Granted some tired to take advantage of it--for that he imprisoned them in the worst parts of Dal'Bor's prison to work their debt off in chain gangs. Was it moral? Probably not, but it deterred repeat offenders.

He fished a fresh cigarette from his pocket and lit it up, offering one to each of his surrounding comrades. There was nothing quite like smoking a Red after blasting the hells out of locals. He always loved it. It eased the adrenal crash and brought what prdinarily would be a massive shattering low into a graceful dive to relaxation.

He blew out a huff of smoke, thinking. What he needed to do from here was first, clean this mess up, and second take control of the local petroleum. Chances were now it would have to be an aggressively and hostile take over. In his mind, that meant boots on the ground, soldiers, armed hold ups, "hand over or else" statements, and a few dead bodies of criminal goons. Was it ethical? Nope. Would a few innocents get caught in the cross fire? Not if he had anything to do with it. From there he would use the funds of the local petroleum operations to give the local poor population something to look forward to instead of going into the gang and criminal underworld. Those who didn't want to work in the mines, he would hire as foot soldiers, or in some other fashion. They would thank him--eventually.

His ears perked from his business scheme when he heard Triter mention getting out to a safe distance, "What do ye mean mate? I dun't be catching what ye be layin down. Besides, they be needing some pretty damn heavy artillery to even the odds against old James here," he let out a confident chuckle before taking another puff from his cigarette.

[member="Triter Zone"]
[member="Sprint Kelly"]

 

[Sprint Kelly]

Kelly was right out of his element. There were too many bodies lying about to call this place, comfortable. Still, when [member="Triter Zone"] mentioned reinforcements? Kelly just about panicked. Turning about to shake his head at [member="James Justice"] with drops of sweat beading on his face.

"What? More of those things? More!? Oh hells no. ...Oh hells no."

He ran to the front of the shuttle and kicked the controls. Jump starting the hunk of junk and priming it for a new pilot.

"I'm getting us the heck out of here. Can't just sit around here to be turned into swamp cheese again. Let's go."

Kelly flipped the switches and pushed the buttons. Doing his darned best to get them an exit strategy. Or, at least. A really really good run away strategy. But would they be fast enough to make that exit? This shuttle ain't no race car. Mm. That was the question.

 

[Triter Zone]

[member="James Justice"]
[member="Sprint Kelly"]

(For the record, Triter was only thinking the minimum safe distance bit.)

Triter eased to the floor behind the seats, fumbling in an inside pocket of his cloak and extracting a fresh power cell. Slotting it into his blaster, he politely refused James' offer of a cigarette; his particular vice was alcohol, and he intended to indulge it after this was all over.
At the near-human's response to the young vulpine's musings, Triter lifted his eyebrows at the male.
"How did you know that was what I was-"
The Amaran shook his head.
"Doesn't matter. Anyway, I'm guessing they're about to bring in something big to try and finish us off; regular troops weren't cutting it, obviously. My guess is that they're bringing in heavy weapons, or elite troops, or-"
The shuttle had been stopped over the course of the battle, the firefight going on inside having tripped the self-piloting vehicle's automatic cutoffs. It now waited at the stop, having placed an automatic call to the city authorities, though they would still be quite a ways away.
Meanwhile, Triter had become aware of a dull vibration in the floor. His discarded power cell, resting by the Amaran's foot, had begun to bounce and move slightly, clinking as it rolled away.
"...oh Emperor's Black Bones and every Minion of Xendor..."
Triter stood, looking out the window of the shuttle to the spaceport beyond. He noticed a long and slender shadow, gliding across the landscape, and gradually became aware of a deep, resonant throb, a sound he knew well...
...he cast his gaze upward, and his ears pinned back in fear.
"Kid, don't bother with the shuttle?" He said softly, backing up. "No time. No time. Out. Out, out out OUT!!"

"Target in sight, captain. Main guns have the range."
Concealed in shadow, the being seated in the command chair of the massive frigate gliding over the starport. He leaned forward, looking at the image on the view-screen.
A wicked smile turned up thin, shriveled lips.
"Bring the ship broadside on, first officer. Gunners! You may fire when ready."
"Aye captain. All starboard guns, center on target!"
The ship swung to present its side to the grounded shuttle, blocking out the sun as it did so, 40 guns at once tracking down to aim at the little vehicle. There was a brief, pregnant silence...
...and then the ship's side erupted in a fusillade of heavy blaster bolts.

 

[James Justice]

James saw the shadow croatching on the skyline and let out a loud, wild, if not insane laugh.

"Is that all ye got?" he belted out with overconfidence, shaking his fist at the window. "I tell ye, it'll take more'n that to take on a man like me, I fought off ships three times ye size all by meself and I'll do it again, I will!"

Ok, so, perhaps the "three times your size" part was a bit of a drunken overstatement, but he had taken on those so much larger during his days as a solo-gun runner. And he was unafraid to do it again. And, he had to admit, part of him was more than proud that they had been so wildly threatened to bring a ship so big.

He began looking around for supplies, something anything powerful enough to get off this shuttle alive. His eyes alighted on the fire-safety units. He sprinted over and shattered the glass tossing the heavy fire-extinguisher to Triter, "Use that to slow ye fall mate, down to the platform down there, it should be enough for someone of ye size."

The extinguisher was quite powerful, designed to propel the foam material over 100 yards. Then again, maybe James was too drunk to fully gauge things like that properly. He grabbed the taunt fire-hose coiled behind it. How long was it? Fifty feet? Fifty yards? 100 of each? He didn't know, but what mattered was it was a chance. He hurled one end out the window, "Kelly, mate, ye get over 'here and jump ship with us, mate!"

He gripped a bit of it in one hand and began repelling--or trying to down towards safety. There was only one problem. The hose hadn't fullly extended itself yet. His weight began to pull the dozens of feet after it, the spacer's body bashed along the metal bulkhead, eliciting a string of expellatives before he began to all but free-fall towards the surface until the hose caught the end of its length at last.

"Force damn it," James spat, wiping blood from his forehead.

[member="Triter Zone"]
[member="Sprint Kelly"]

 

[Sprint Kelly]

Oh snap.

If Kelly was panicked before. Now he was completely inconsolable. Looking out the window at the giant form of broadsiding doom that awaited them. Why God? Why? Do you really hate me that much?

It was an internal monologue Sprint would have to finish later. He leapt from his seat and began following [member="James Justice"] and [member="Triter Zone"] out. Alas. He was in no mood to wait his turn for a chance to climb out the window. Sprint was feeling only mild panic and insanity at this point and it was beginning to affect his judgement. So he cursed some strange exploitative statement under breath and vaulted for the back door. Remembering how all the airline stewardesses used to put the phrase,

"Just pull and twist the handle. And the emergency exit will open up into a slide. Remember to..."

He forgot the rest as he turned the bright red handle. Unfortunately, this only caused the door to suddenly pop off it's hinges and turn into it's own multi-man flotation device. Like a raft. So... Kelly fell the next few meters out of the airlock screaming for his life while riding the very air in his very own transforming-door lifeboat.

"Mr Justice! Oh God why! Ahhhhhhhhh!"

The broadside salvo would, naturally, begin any moment. Masking the hard crash-n-smash of Kelly's not-so-soft landing, with earth shattering results.

 

[Triter Zone]

[member="James Justice"]
[member="Sprint Kelly"]

Triter gritted his teeth, taking the fire extinguisher James offered him and sprinting for the door. His pulse pounded through the veins in his large ears as he hammered the access controls, looking out at the long drop and gulping.
"When you get to the ground, don't run! Find shelter and wait it out!"
Then he leaped.
The little Amaran used to extinguisher's chemical jet to brake his fall, though of course he still landed hard. Quickly, though, he scrambled up, running for the shelter of the nearby platform and finding the smallest crevice he could wedge himself into to shield himself from the blast he suspected would come.
Years of accumulated experience and instinct were not wrong.
Moments after the group had abandoned the shuttle, the huge ship's guns lit up. A sheet of blaster bolts ravaged the little commuter shuttle, which more or less disintegrated in the first barrage, creating a ball of fire and scattering chunks of debris across the landscape for hundreds of meters. The frigate did not stop; volley after volley was cast into the rapidly dissipating explosion, lancing out to rake nearby buildings as well.

Triter huddled in his cover, half watching the display, his gaze drawn more toward the ship wreaking the destruction.
Memories stirred in him, ideas he had once shared, promises he had once heard...
Even as he sat in cover, huddled against a concrete support in the platform shelter, he spoke aloud.
"That's..."
He stood, suddenly heedless of the danger. He walked, slowly, out into the open, his tattered cloak snapping in the back-blast from mammoth engines and weapons fire.
"...that's-!"
His teeth set, bared as he stared up at the ship. Inspiration, promises, a dream nearly realized with the help of a friend and mentor...
His hands clenched into fists.
"...you karking HUTTSLIME!" He suddenly screamed, glaring up at the ship, standing firm against the wind despite his diminutive stature. "THIEVES! KOSSAK-BLASTED SPAWN OF-"

"Captain, target has been destroyed. Currently tracking debris patterns; only a few pieces large enough to have been the targets. Nothing's moving."
On the bridge of the ship, the obscured finger in the command chair drummed their fingers.
"Well done, first officer. Bring the ship about, we'll waste no more time here."
"Very good sir. Helm! Set course back to the hangar, mission-"
"Sir! Movement on the ground!"
All eyes went to the large display screen, which had zoomed in on the largely untouched platform shelter.
Standing there was a small figure, scarcely bigger than one of the locals. He was vulpinoid, possibly Amaran, dressed in a tattered cloak and apparently screaming up at the hovering ship.
"What's he saying."
"Directional microphone picking up, captain."
All of a sudden, the bridge was flooded with a stream of amplified curses, some in Basic, many in Old Tionese and other, alien languages. The speaker, it seemed, hardly even stopped to take a breath, and his vocabulary of such words was extensive indeed.
"Turn it off. Give that being a proper response, and then continue course."
"Aye sir. Gunnery!"

Triter stopped his tirade when he saw the guns on the side of the ship move again. Quickly, he darted away, just as the weapons annihilated the platform shelter.
He watched, looking up from another piece of cover he had thrown himself behind, as the ship moved off, rumbling away over the hangars and warehouses of the starport.
"Thieves... karking scum!" He ranted through clenched teeth. "That's the Liburn, they have no right!!"
The ship cruised away, and Triter looked around, suddenly remembering his comrades.
"JAMES!!" He called. "KID!! CYBORG!! YOU ALL STILL ALIVE?!"

 

[James Justice]

James sat up, spitting out a spray of blood. The cut over his forehead hurt but the trail of blood it brought into his left eye stung even more. He spat again---this time the matter was expellatives instead of hemogoblin.

The shuttle had gone down in a ball of fire before he could leap free of the hose to a balcony. Instead he had crashed and bounced onto a roof and now was aching all over. He did a body check. Nothing broken, but his ears were ringing and there were serveral bad bruises developing. His ribs gave a protesting shout. Yes, they were probably fractured. He winced but ignored it as he stood up.

"Yeah Triter, I be here," he shouted watching the ship trundle away. "Imma find the sum of a bith that did this and cut his--" an air speeder passing by cut the last few words of that sentance short.

He looked and saw a balcony a few feet away and down, on it was a latter that led to Triter. James took a few steps back and took a moment to brace himself before sprinting and leaping to it. His legs screamed in protest as he landed, he stiffled a string of expellatives before a scampering up the latter to his fox-friend. James shook his head, bristling with anger, "When I find the persons responsible I gonna kill them. I gonna make 'em wish they'd died. Imma crush their skulls and show the worlds what happens when ye shoot at James Justice."

They had asked for this war and he would bring it, whole sale.


[member="Triter Zone"]
[member="Sprint Kelly"]

 

[Sprint Kelly]

Kelly crawled out from the inflatable raft which had so desperately engulfed him. Ugh. Why was the world spinning?

"Present."

He muttered to [member="Triter Zone"] . Taking another moment to languish on the ground and watch the sky revolve in circles. Oh man. What a day. He was gonna need a double dose of Ibuprofen when this was all done.

Sprint flopped off of the raft and held his head. Doing his best to stand up and ignore the ringing in his ears. Engaging a very select moment of clarity to respond,

"By the way... What just happened?"

And he didn't mean the salvo. He sort of meant... Everything.

 

[Triter Zone]

[member="James Justice"]
[member="Sprint Kelly"]

Triter jogged over to James as he came up the ladder, helping support the larger near-human. His gaze, however, remained on the diminishing speck of the retreating frigate.
Profound anger continued to pulse through his veins as he watched it go.
"Friend." He said in a flat tone. "I'm afraid we're going to have to flip a credit for that particular pleasure. Because as soon as I get my hands on the captain of that ship..."
His teeth were bared and set. James had likely never seen the little Amaran angry before, but it was plain that something had set Triter off, and dramatically. The young vulpine was not force-sensitive, but with James' sensitivity it was likely that he could feel the waves of single-minded fury and hurt rolling off the little being.
Something Triter Zone held sacred had been defiled.
"...I though for sure she'd been scrapped." He muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "How did she get here? How did that... that..."
He shook his head, trying to clear it.
"Listen, we shouldn't stick around." The Amaran said, looking to James and Kelly. "At the very least, the local police and fire department will be here soon..."

 

[James Justice]

The spacer's body was groaning for a relief, but he would manage. He wasn't as young as he used to be, and it wasn't able to take all this kicking around like a tin-can like it used to. He spat another salvo of blood from his mouth, he hated the taste of blood.

"We got jumped, mate," James said to Sprint, "I got an idear of who set this up already," James could think of one being so vile they would pull strings and even use local crime lords to try and kill him. His nemesis who hid in the shadows and pulled strings. He growled in anger, the coward Prosecutor would have to wait later. His mastermind abilities to move and maneuver was enough to put sith lords to shame.

"I got us a ride out," James said to Triter, pressing a series of buttons on his bracelet. His matching pair served as more than just his writs comm and datapad, they were also a homing becon and remote for his ships, mainly the Lost Angel.

A few moments later the Ablittor-class fighter cut across the skyline and came alongside them, lowering a ramp for entrance. James limped in, making his way to the medkit that was beside his massive wetbar. He shook his head drawing bandages from it and an ale to kill the pain. When the others had gotten aboard the ship flew out back to safety, far from the area.

"Make yeselves comfortable," James said, beginning to sew his forehead shut, "and if ye need weapons, I got a catch under the couch; anything ye could possibly want and then some. This means war so stock up. I ain't about to walk away from this fight."

[member="Triter Zone"]
[member="Sprint Kelly"]