Welcome to Triple Zero

[Revenchent]

You were created to serve the Republic. My compatriots have studied organics for quite some time. You amuse us.

Your slumber has lasted for quite some time. Your galaxy is in turmoil, two-four-seven. Go, take our gifts, take your training. I have decided that you will be needed to bring about the former glory of your people. The Clone Army.

Welcome to Coruscant.



It was fire and metal everywhere. The small hanger bay was overcome with complete chaos.

Just moments before, a tiny silver dot had appeared in the horizon of Coruscant. That dot had grown exponentially in a matter of seconds. Too fast for any security vessels to intercept; it screamed through the sky. The dot revealed itself to be an escape pod shaped like a bullet of the slugthrower era, and it had been shot like an artillery round.

Five levels of Coruscant's upper city now shared identical holes rimed with super heated metal. At the bottom, lay one more massive hole in the side of one of the seedier public ports on the massive city planet. There, the pod had careened into two snub fighters and sent them into flaming pieces across the dirty silver floors. Storage containers lay busted open; spilling contents ranging from family heirlooms to private defense weapons across the now blackened flooring.

Only one witness had been there to see the landing personally. She was a Rodian, dressed in the slacks of an average worker. Her screams had died along with her, as a piece of flaming shrapnel had left her in two equal, grotesque pieces.

Oh, kripes....the di'kut droid. I can't see straight, arms can't move....the nerve agent!

Fox Two-Four-Seven lay sprawled across the cramped confines of the pod. His Heads-Up-Display flickered to life a moment later. The indicators for his shields and bodily health were moderate. Multiple other icons flickered across his visor that he didn't recognize. Four arrows moving in every direction. On top of that, the power capacity was phenomenal compared to the last time he'd been in the suit. The droids really had done work on his kit.

"Need to get up; need to check the surroundings. Come on Calico, your fine without your boys." He mumbled to himself. In truth, the loss of his team--everyone he knew almost made the Commando choke up. Almost.

"Holy--Gyra! Grya is dead!"

The voice was deep and male. Human, or near human by the sound of it. Someone had come searching. He had to move.

"Up--...come on, up damnit!"

The soldier's limbs finally kicked in. Something pierced his spine and injected white hot fire. Calico almost screamed. He rushed up to his feet, boots slamming against the ground as he stood up to full height. He collected his 'Deece' from one of the side racks, and made sure that his DC-15 personal defense handgun was secure in its holster. Satisfied that he was all together, the commando flicked off the safety of his rifle, and marched out of the pod.

A Clone Commando in full white-and-green armor, backpack; and with a glowing blue 'T' visor was absolutely terrifying. Two red bolts slammed into him as soon as he stepped out like a speeder colliding with one of the massive sky-scrapers. The shields fell down halfway.

"Nice compensator you have there!" He roared.

A large, luxuriously dressed Mirilian was still firing bolts of red energy from a sizable handgun. Calico's shields were stronger, so was his compensating machine.

Three burning holes appeared in the assaulter's chest as the DC-17 rifle discharged. He crumpled in a violent heap.

Calico wasted no time worrying over a local gangster. He needed to find out where he was. Nine hundred years the droids had said. If it was truly that long, he needed to get his bearings. He needed to procure a ship, and find some old friendly faces.

He pressed heavy against the side of a massive spaceport door. Leading from that was relative freedom into the city's underbelly. There would be a search, of course...but if he could only make it past the patrol of security responders in blue uniforms, then he would have a chance.

Calico took a deep breath, checked the counter on his rifle, and adjusted the rifle's stock. The patrol drew closer.

"I am RC-Two-Four-Seven of the Grand Army of the Republic. I was abducted by an unknown source and ejected here. If you do not set down your weapons and let me pass, I will open fire!" He called out toward the guards. He wasn't sure if they would listen. His reply was a surge of green energy from beyond the corridor. The commando pressed heavy against the wall, biding his time for retaliation.

 

[Zandra Tal'verda]

Well! This made her day MUCH more interesting. Zandra wasn't supposed to get involved. This was not her problem. Keter wouldn't want her to get involved...
But, she could never resist butting into something that was none of her business.
And so, she followed the chaos, the noise. She followed it all to it's source. And now she was looking right at him.

"Oi, dummy," she called from the corner she was hiding in, "They ain't gunna listen. You better get outta here. Come on, Sunshine. I know a way around. Our lil' secret, k?

She didn't know quite why she was so tempted to help him. It wasn't like her to help anyone, really. But she'd been too long away from the action. Keter kept her away from the fun. And she got so bored.

 

[Revenchent]

First the guards, and now a crazy lady. What could go wrong?

"I could just blast e-...Alright!" He half-yelled-half-growled. Calico rushed across the opening that just happened to be filled with laser fire at the moment. No one could say he wasn't one for adventure.
A bolt slammed against the thin shielding around his knee. The impact was so strong that it almost sent him sprawling; just barely clearing the opening to hunch over near woman. A stranger trying to help him.

This is all wrong...
The fire stopped abruptly; and the temporary silent was shattered by the sound of boots slamming against metal flooring at a worryingly fast pace. "Alright lass, I'll follow, you do the important part." He called over the sound of erupting blaster fire. The guards had cleared the hall and were just beginning to fan out into the hanger. Bolts of green energy flew by the wayside as they fired at anything that seemed to be moving. The commando checked the charge on his 'Deece'. Still more than enough in this pack, but he only had so many. The vibroknife would be his last resort--but then, who were these people?
Not important, just go.
One unlucky sod happened to look toward the corner that Calico had begun to be rather fond of. Two bolts to the belly put him down in a smoking heap; but they also took any possibility of surprise out of the equation. So, RC-247 did the natural, primal thing. He sprayed like a crazy man, in the process suppressing the more vulnerable adversaries.
"I really hate hangers!...Go, ma'am!"

 

[Zandra Tal'verda]

She was already scurrying away, Keeping low to the ground. What she was looking for was low, a place most people never bothered to look. Zandra had her employers small daughter to thank for knowing this little trick. Vents. Most places had them in the walls. Most of them led out. It was how she had gotten in here, after all.

With the edge of her vobroblade, she pried the grate from the wall and instantly slipped inside.

"Come on, Hun. Into the hole in the wall," she called, crawling ahead, "And close it behind you."

 

[Revenchent]

Well this just wasn't going well, at all. A big fat green Twi'lek was missing a Lekku and part of his right eye; writhing on the ground like some sort of street dancer. The others had all taken cover behind upturned furniture and metal erected from the flooring. Calico was wasting no time to pay much attention.

He began to back-peddle as quickly as he could without falling over; spraying short bursts at anything that so much as twitched in his line of sight. His head was starting to hurt, and everything was becoming painfully bright. Whatever the adrenal that had wormed its way into his system was doing; it had begun to stop working.

"Your pal is really-" He felt the air fly out of his lungs as a shot hammered into his shielded breastplate. With a flash of blue shimmering light, it died--which likely meant he would be the next thing to die. "-...Really rocking the one head-tail thing. He's a trend starter!"

Calico couldn't resist spitting insults through the helmet's amplifiers. The remaining few began to yell and scream in various language that the commando had never even heard of, let alone knew. He eventually found his way toward the vent hatch that the woman had crawled into.


I'm not going to fit.

Fitting was something he would have to do however. The orange flames licking up from the destroyed vessels were growing wilder. It was quite likely they might set off something vital. The guards all seemed to take note as well. Any replies of outrage from his adversaries were deafened by the sound of weapons discharging: flames crackling, ship drives thundering to life, and the screams of their trend-starting-Twi'lek-star. That, coupled with the blackened smoke filling the hanger was a clear sign it was time to go.

Calico slung the rifle up over his shoulder; went down on hands and knees, and forced the bulky Katarn armor through the opening. He turned to pick up the rusty grate and fixate it in place just as a shrieking alarm began to sound. Either someone knew there was an 'intruder', or they had taken note to highly explosive fuel lines and a very much alive fire.

He reached up to flick on the blue lights of his helmet to brighten up the darkened space, and wriggled his way rather loudly through the tight space. He needed some distance between himself and that docking bay. "Ma'am." He couldn't fight back a short little cough. His helmet's filter must have been failing. "Thank you, really. I was a bit...lost there. My name is Calico, RC-two-four-seven." He half-mumbled. Better not to speak much more. "I don't really have anything to pay you with, ma'am. I''m not from this part of space."

He tried to look back over his shoulder, but the space was too damn tight for that armor of his. He decided making simple conversation might make the situation a bit more...comfortable, and keep this woman from leaving him in the dark. All the information of where he was and the state of things had been put in his mind by the droids. He needed someone to help him get his bearings. "They were shoddy shots...not a fan of the blue jumpsuits either...that isn't CSF is it?"

@[member="Zandra Fenni"]

 

[Galaar Tal'Verda]

In a Pod, flying toward Courscant at High-Speeds. ​

​

Bloody Di'kutla droids! The Commando screamed in his head as the pod he was in went barreling toward the surface of Courscant. A couple minutes ago he was raging about the death of his vode. Now he was spinning towards the ground, at neck-breakingly fast speeds in his Katarn Rig. His eyes opened and gazed at his HUD, there were new upgrades, more presents from the droids but things had been moved around and he didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit. However, that was his last though before rather abrupt and painful stop.

He came to a couple minutes on a bridge, in a chasm, in Courscant's lower levels. Outside he heard something trying to yank the pod open. He quickly pulled his DC-17 off the webbing on his armor, aiming at the door. It opened, and he saw a rather alien face, and then opened fire by instinct. Blue flashes filled the pod and then the screams of a Trandoshan. The creature barreled sideways in a crumpled heap of pain and wounded scales, he smelt ozone through the filter in his helmet and heard yelling. He then darted.

Exiting the pod he was attacked by a second lizard with a vibroax. The creature hissed and swung the ax downward. Without reaction he ducked and caught the ax's hilt and on instinct grabbed the gecko's wrists. With a twist and tug their was a sickening crunch. It was on par, after whatever time period that was on stasis, he was still a kriffing monster. The Trandoshan roared in pain. Yeah, I hear you Chakaar. His vibroblade then smashed into the lizards eye and he sent the gecko crashing into the ground yowling.

The Commando then darted, halfway moving though he dropped and thudded into the ground. His adrenaline wore off and for some reason he was off-balance every time he tried to move. Har'chaak, Carbonite sickness. He then opened his commlink and entered an incredibly dated channel.

"This is RC-252... I need back up, lower levels of Courscant, carbonite sickness. I repeat this is RC-252 and I need prioritized evac. Any GAR units respond or I'm gonna blow you're di'kuts brains across the skylines."

His voice was husky, deep with a hard Mando accent and it was most certainly pained.

@[member="Calico RC-247"]

 

[Revenchent]

Calico had been awaiting the woman's answer when the message came through. It was faint; yet familiar. The unsettling crackle of open radio was indicated by a small green icon in the corner of his visor. The commando halted, which wasn't very hard to do. That massive Katarn armor was barely slinking through the narrow; dusty vent.

"A moment ma'am." He grunted through the helmet's loudspeakers. He felt his eyes drifting downward, slowly engulfing the vivid screen of glowing icons in an eternal blackness. The adrenal had worn off; his body was shutting down.

Not yet you chakaar....check the Fleetcoms.

Calico didn't chance a moment to see if the woman stopped for him or not. With three rapid blinks, the comm channel flickered over to the link that the voice came from. The commando took in a sharp breath before speaking. Please be right.

"I read you Ar-Cee-Two-Five-Two. Galaar, pop on your transponder now! I need your signal, someone made a big mess in one of the spaceports down in deep Trip Zip; might be near you." He paused to recollect himself. His gray armored fingers kicked up dust and the shells of dead insects as he resumed following the woman. An outdated map of this district flooded across his HUD; quickly minimizing to take up one of the visor's adjacent corners.

The crackle of the line filled his ears. He needed to keep up the connection. With a calm-I'm-in-charge-voice Calico continued the conversation. "The GAR was disbanded. It's just us on this link. I don't know how you ended up, Five-Two, but we may be up to our shebs in self-righteous security if we haven't found a secure zone in the next thirty mikes...start looking."


@RC-252 "Galaar"

 

[Zandra Tal'verda]

As the Echani woman glanced behind her for a second and kept moving. A name. She had his name now. Not that it mattered much. The idea that he had no credits and she helping him, was kind of a let down, honestly. She never did this, not before Keter won that stupid card game. She still had no idea how she lost.

When he asked for a moment, the Echani snorted at the very idea and kept moving regardless.

"Whatever, pal," she called, "Just don't dawdle too long. You aint payin' me. Don't think I won't leave ya behind."

She was teasing, of course. But he didn't have to know that.

 

[Galaar Tal'Verda]

Galaar grunted and dragged himself forward a couple inches before his own HUD blinked. Relief flooded over him as he heard the voice. Thank dead Mando Gods, Sarge. It was great to hear a brother's voice and he responded without hesitation. His limbs hurt more than anything he had ever experienced in his short, cyrogenically, interrupted life.

"Sarge! Its good to hear you, got any cafe on you? Because right now I can barely move and I have a headache that hurts more than Vau's wrestling sessions."

He was obviously straining himself to talk, and despite his joking intent, his voice was entirely serious. A trait Calico would likely know about his own brother. That wasn't the worst of his issues however, behind him he heard metal scrapping and deep, bellowing hiss. He rolled over to see another Trandoshan rushing him, obviously ticked about the brutal murder of his fellow scavvies.

"And I'm neck deep in lizard," there would be a cut in comms and the sound of blaster fire, more specifically DC-17. "Angry lizards, so if you could save my shebs Sarge. I'd give ya a hug."

@[member="Calico RC-247"]

 

[Revenchent]

"If you leave me, I might follow. I'm like a lost akk dog; just a bit cuter. I've got a contact up the road. If you get me out of this hole-of-ever-living-di'kuts we could wire you some kit." He spoke loud through the helmet at the woman. It was banter, at least, he hoped she was joking.

The massive commando squeezed on through the vents; bumping up against the metal walling every other second. The sound was loud enough to carry through the entire ventilation structure. Hopefully everyone was busy with the fiery explosions behind them. The sirens were still very loud; and very sharp.

"You lead the way ma'am...I'll follow. Like I said, Akk dog."

With that, he flicked back into the open channel. The stupidity of his only living brother made him huff a metallic, quiet laugh. "Slice and dice Fox..slice and Dice. I was worried." The comm cut off for a moment as Calico's helmet made nice with the vent ceiling. "Osik! Fracking...I'm en route, and I'm feeling the headaches. More than you know....I thought you were slotted you di'kut. Any word from Comic or Nutzy?"

He took in a sharp breath to indicate that he had more to speak. If his mapping was still on the dime, then he and this woman--it occurred to him he still had no idea who she was, or her name-- would be approaching the central hall leading outside soon. That was only about half a click from the flickering blip that was Galaar on his map. "And I've found myself a friend. A woman, come to save me in my time of need. Think I'll get lucky like Omega?"

It was only then Calico realized he was transmitting through the comms and through the speakers. Hitting his head had merged the channels. The woman could hear every word. Kriff.
@RC-252 "Galaar" @[member="Zandra Fenni"]

 

[Galaar Tal'Verda]

The Trandoshan tackled Galaar, three blaster blots and the di'kut was still coming. Calico would likely hear the roar very clearly, but what followed after the roar was more like Galaar. There was the sound of armor clattering and then a human shout, and then a loud popping noise and whissing whine.

"Har'chaak! Its all over my visor! This is disgusting, di'kut lizards!"

There was silence for a brief moment and then panting, and then the rustling of movement and finally once more speech. Galaar was limping across the bridge toward a old burnt out speed for cover.

"I hate to say it but no... There's no word from either of them Ca'ika. I'm sorry, sir... I should have spotted the clankers on the freighter." Now there was very definite pain behind that and the sound of swallowing and then blaster fire being returned. This was going to be a long day, now their were two more Scavengers: an Iradonian and Human firing at him with what seemed to be military issue rig.

"Get lucky? You? Ha! You always ignored me when I tried givin' ya tips, Sarge." Good old Galaar, never stopped with the banter even in emotionally depressing and physically endangering conditions. "Say hello for me, I send my regards. Also... Running outta ammo!"

@[member="Calico RC-247"]

 

[Zandra Tal'verda]

...It was at this moment that Zandra realized she had left her ship dressed in white leather shorts, torn up stockings and a bralette. She looked a little more like a street walker and less like a respectable rescuer. The instant that word 'lucky' found it's way to her ears, she grinned a little. She could just imagine the blush behind that helmet. She missed the days when she would take strangers drunkenly back to her ship for a few hours. Those were the days.
Now her ship, Zax, was starting to look too clean, too professional. She supposed that's what getting a 'real' job did to someone.

Zandra moved along, pretending she had not heard a thing, but he knew she did, and she would not let him get away with it entirely. As she crawled ahead, she curved her back a little, glancing behind to see if he was looking at her rear.

"Almost there. Just through this grate up ahead and we're home free. Leads out into the alley. Hardly nobody comes here, 'cept the usual. Colorful folk 'round here. Betta watch yourself."

As she reached the end, she pushed open the grate, swung her legs around and nimble as, well, as an echani, she jumped down into the dirty alley.

"So! Who were ya talkin' to anyway? Your 'contact'?"

@[member="Calico RC-247"]

 

[Revenchent]

Holding two conversations was more than a little taxing. His helmet crackled with every dribble of conversation from Galaar, and the woman was making a show of herself. Calicos fight-or-flight mode was starting to fall apart. His focus was crumbling. Perhaps they were almost out safe?

"Not your fault Ga'ika. We were expecting wets, not tinnies. Blame the advisor for that one...di'kut mongrel. Why did we ever allow mongrels into the GAR?" The question was rhetorical. Calico was simply griping; letting his thoughts and concerns show their true colors in what most would consider a simple show of whining. In truth, the banter, the griping, it was all for the sake of coping with the situation. This all scared him. Terrified him. But, he was still the Sergeant; he was still the man in charge. He had to act that way.

The line of thought had distracted him so much that he almost droned out the woman's words. His eyes went up as he did indeed take a pervy look.
Not the same Four-Seven.

He stayed silent for a long moment, more or less embarrassed, ashamed even. The helmet hid his expression and the faint flush to his face. That was something to be thankful for. "And we don't qualify as colorful?" He joked, trying to blow that whole awkward show he was naturally inclined to do out of the water. "He's one of my lads. His pod landed about half a click to the east...on some big bridge. No clue what the name is, maybe you would; ma'am?"

The commando tumbled out of the vents. He wasn't a graceful man, and the armor certainly didn't help. He landed flat on his chest with a loud, slightly annoyed grunt. This alley was disgusting. "Not that you're inclined to do anything. You've already saved my fat hide."

Calico paused to readjust his 'Deece' and make sure his sidearm was in place. His shields had crawled ever-so-slowly back to life. The glow of his visor dimmed as he stared at the woman; a tall, imposing statue midst the lively streets of Coruscant. "Also...I...apologize about the lucky thing ma'am. It was out of turn."
@[member="Zandra Fenni"] @RC-252 "Galaar"

 

[Zandra Tal'verda]

Zanda burst out laughing as he fell. Well, manners were not really her thing. That was her sister who was all proper and junk. She didn't need no manners for nothing! And besides, it was funny. She was honest, if anything. Not laughing at him would be just like lying.

"Oh shut it," she replied, still laughing as she wiped a tear from her eye, "I'd be offended if you didn't notice. And don't call me ma'am. I aint some Lady. Names Zandra. Remember it."

She looked around. Yes. She knew this place well. And the bridge. Well, the only bridge around these parts was the bridge just off of Sidelake (absolutely not a lake. More like a toxic puddle).

"Yeah, I know where yer friend landed. But ya might be happier back there. The locals... they don't like strangers. An' take off the helmet. They especially don' like official lookin' strangers."

She walked on ahead, down the filthy alley. This. This was what she missed. Getting dirty. She patted her blaster at her side, so happy to have it with her again. Zandra was no stranger to this area.

...That was not necessarily a good thing.

@[member="Calico RC-247"]

 

[Galaar Tal'Verda]

Galaar was down to his last kriffing clip already. He had dropped the human only to find another in his place. Galaar was starting to realize that he had stumbled upon a whole gang. There were eight or nine shooters at the least, hopefully at the least, taking pot shots at him from several directions to the front with Military Grade rifles and pistols. One of the di'kuts even had a light repeater. Why can't Calico ever get himself into these situations, why has it always been me! Always!

He peeked his head out from cover and fired a few shots, he tagged one or two in the chest with screaming blue blaster blots before a frag grenade went off to his right. Har'chaak! Where did the Di'kuts get explosives? He soon barked over his comms. "What is wrong with this bloody city! I though Triple-Zero was supposed to be a krffing paradise. Kandosii, ya know? But instead of getting greeted by showgirls and, sweet, sweet Corellian whiskey. I get blaster fire, Trandoshans, and lovely anniversary presents called frag grenades."

Luckly they weren't very good shots, but his cover was beginning to fall apart and he had several shots left on charge. Where is a vode when you need him?

@[member="Calico RC-247"]

 

[Revenchent]

If Calico's pride was hurt by the laughing, it didn't show. The dropping of formalities was more than welcome. He wasn't a fan of them when it came to his equals. "Well, it'd be hard to miss. I have damn good eyes." He shot right back. It was familiar that sense of camaraderie--even with a stranger, a mongrel. Then again, everyone in the galaxy was a mongrel now. What did that make him?

"Just lock it down Galaar. We're en route, me and the lady friend." He put a hand up to his helmet to show he was speaking through the comm. The status indicator lit up. He was close enough to view Galaar's vitals; and the clone could have been shooting up whatever kind of drugs were popular now with his readings. Something had gone rather wrong.

"Alright, my lad is out on that bridge, making friends with the locals. You might want to strut a bit; he's expecting showgirls, and my shebs just aren't big enough."

He grinned wide under the helmet. He was in action; his prime element. There was no time to think about the consequences. A quick exchange of firing mode and a longer barrel attachment formed the 'Deece' into a designated-marksman-rifle effective at up to thirty meters. That would have to do. "Galaar, I'm on radio silence until we arrive. I'm losing my buy'ce, give us a bit of surprise."

With a loud hiss, the helmet was lifted from his head, and clipped to the side of his belt. His head was buzzed down, though it had grown into a an inch or so of black curls. His eyes were a deep chocolate brow, and lines around his eyes and mouth showed that he was smiling and laughing quite a bit. "Right up the road. You take point until we're in the AO. Then we switch out." He ordered his companion. Whether she would be alright with that wasn't in his mind. This was it, he was back doing what he was created to do.

Now, to rescue his di'kut squaddie.

 

[Zandra Tal'verda]

Great eyes. Really? She grinned at him over her shoulder and kept watching until he had removed his helmet.
Not what she'd expected. Eh. She'd rescued worse looking guys. At least this one had a sense of humor.

"Oi! What makes ya think I'm doing jack for you? 'Oo dya think you are, anyways?"
She didn't like being told what to do. It was why she'd dropped out of the military and why her sister was leading it. Echani pride and all that. Something Zandra had been severely lacking in. She was a defective child, one, no doubt, the great Fenni family wished they could have traded out for a fresh start. Janira, her perfect sister, had taken to making sure she was fully aware of the embarrassment she caused the family... much to Zandras amusement.

Kark it. I aint her. I aint Janira. Never will be. Might as well go all in now.

The woman sighed, eying a homeless kid as they passed, hoping he wouldn't recognize her.

"Alright, alright! Fine. Lead the way, if ya know where yer goin'!"

@[member="Calico RC-247"]

 

[Rusken Shaxx]

Zius found himself not too far from @RC-252 "Galaar" position, walking slowly in the distance donning a black trench coat with a helmet covering his features. The only thing visible through the translucent visor was a single red eye piercing through, scanning the random trooper. "
What the..."

Zius stopped in his tracks, studying the stranger further.

"Damn well outdated if you ask me."

He broke into a sprint towards the action, his coat flapping in the wind as he reached inside to expose a curved-hilt red lightsaber, dashing towards the shooters as he held up his saber, deflecting the rounds and causing them to fly back toward the gunmen. He then entered an Ataru stance, flipping into the air and landing on one of the attackers with lightning speed as Zius brought his saber down into their neck.

"You gonna sit behind your cover, or are you gonna give some cover?"

Zius bellowed to the outdated trooper, still deflecting shots and falling back to a defensive postion.

 

[Galaar Tal'Verda]

Galaar was fuming now, and then he saw a red-lightsaber. He didn't lose it, it didn't, he thought about it, he honestly thought about tossing dets in random directions and laughing his shebs off at the resulting chaos. But he didn't... Not yet at least.

Switching over to the loudspeaker on his helmet, he spoke to the stranger who had seemingly taken up his side. He figured the saber could only mean one thing, regardless of its color and spoke his mind rather freely with that hard Mando accent. "Kriffing Jedi! It takes you a har'chaak while to show up! Just like old times, ya know? And always giving orders, slag." With that he aimed his site down and opened fire. The smell of ozone once again filled his helmet filter as he downed yet another Gangster.

"Outta power clips, Jedi!"

@[member="Zius Aurus"]

 

[Revenchent]

Calico's expression split as he grinned He didn't really need her help, not now...but there was no reason not to have an extra asset. "Because of my charming disposition and my amazingly plain face. I'm a novelty there days."

His smile only seemed to widen as she agreed.

Mongrels-...no, people are still the same. Even now.

I have a general idea. If we're lost, we can stop and ask the lizards for directions." He shouldered the compact rifle; exchanging the magazine for one more suitable for the weapon's present mode. He paid no heed to the child. It was none of his business. How the Republic's citizens ended up was their own issue. There were far more pressing matters to attend to.

He ran over the memorization of this particular zone's mapping. The bridge wouldn't be far, now that Zavena had given him a landmark. He broke into a dead sprint, shoving his way through the mix-match of aliens living in this dirty level. The neon lights of the rundown shots made is head pulse with a massive headache. He felt his stomach becoming unsettled.

Carbonite issues...can't look at the lights.

He kept his head tilted forward to filter out the bright light as he marched through. One turn, then another, and he was standing by a massive bridge. The smoking ruins of his brother's escape pod had pulverized the mid-section. Calico pressed up against a fallen crate, took aim, and let a high powered shot fly free. It cracked loud enough to temporarily deafen anyone around. The Trandoshan on the light repeater's head exploded in a mess of bone and brain matter. Its beheaded body tumbled down the crevice that it had been using for cover. "Popping vegetables!"

Hopefully, Zandra had kept up.

Just hold on ad'ike. Hole up like I know you should. Let me pick off the big boys. And...what in Corellia's Nine Hells!?!?
"We've got ourselves a member of the bathrobe brigade Zandra! Red glowstick though...that the new style?"

@[member="Zandra Fenni"]@RC-252 "Galaar" @Zius Aurus