You Never Take Me Anywhere Nice

[Joza Perl]

Busting a slaver ring typically didn’t go like it did in the holoflicks. Okay, maybe things were pretty similar for a handful of collective minutes, but what those flicks left out was the weeks and weeks of casing you had to do. The hours upon hours of sifting through images and testimonies, most of which never turned out to be useful. In that way, the work was grueling and exhausting before you ever got to the action. If you managed to get to the action. Sometimes things didn’t go right and you had to abandon your mission, pull out if things were going south before you even started. Picking the right battles was a tedious thing to do, and sometimes you had to watch as a shipment of frightened children slipped out into the galaxy for an unknown destination.

Following them would be too stupid, you’d get caught and expose the whole thing. Maybe you’d die, maybe your friends would die too. And it wouldn’t be worth it, because heroism lead to an overinflated sense of self and stupid mistakes. Life wasn’t like the holoflicks.

If it was, she’d have chosen a different genre.

One where she wasn’t being shot at, preferably, but this was her life and that was that. “Ivan, you nerf herder. Where are you?” She practically spat into the comm embedded into her helmet as she rounded a corner, taking up the rear of a group of frightened and retreating slaves. The bust hadn’t gone quite the way she wanted it to, which was stealthy and quiet. Instead there had been some sort of explosion, and Joza had elected to get the slaves—preteen girls—moving on foot towards where she thought Ivan would be with a nondescript corvette. “Oh, wait. I see you.” She’d apologize later, maybe, but right now she was focused on the thugs closing in. A few bolts of plasma sizzled against the narrow permacrete corridor. “Zig-zag pattern, ladies!” She grunted out, though the terrified girls likely had no idea what the hell she was talking about.

She hadn’t come alone—a handful of her snipers had been trained in infiltration and usually came along with her on these sorts of things. The photo-optic armor helped with sneaking around, but not so much this time. They lead the fleeing group as Joza did her best to hold them off, Zef’s gunslinging blood unknowingly coming in handy.

“Hurry it up!” She hissed as the slaves, exhausted but largely unharmed, were ushered into the cargo bay of the ship. The Zeltron would follow eventually, not too keen on sticking around and getting gunned down given that she was outnumbered.

Okay, so it was a little like a holoflick.

[member="Elliot Locke"]

 

[Kenth Typho]

[member="Joza Perl"]

He hated these kind of operations.

Not because of the conclusions - the fact that more often than not he was able to help people regain their freedom was satisfying as all hell. But that wasn't the problem... the problem was the road to it. Feeling helpless to help when you needed to swallow the lesser evil for the greater good, when you left some to their fate if it meant rescuing more people the next day. It was executing every slaver and then walking into the slave 'quarters', trying to keep your breakfast inside of you once the dirt and foul excrement forced itself up your nostrils, it was... coming face to face with the worst sentient life had to offer.

We are ready.

The whisper had started the operations, followed by GA commandos breaking into the compound. They fought level to level and explosions on other portions of the facility made Locke wonder what was happening.

Didn't matter much while he was running down the corridor - corpses all around, most of them slavers. In the distance, he could just make out the gorram hangar... and with them dozens of slaves being ushered into a ship.

Bastards.

He didn't talk, didn't have any diplomacy in him anymore after all that he had seen today. His disruptor was already roaring, bursting past the armored person who seemed to be in charge and dashing against the hull of the freighter.

No, today they wouldn't get away.

 

[Joza Perl]

Someone didn’t want them to get away.

Given the chaos, Joza didn’t take the time to discern who might be a slaver and who might be an ally—she was largely unaware of the GA’s simultaneous hit on the compound, despite the ruckus on the other side of the building. Never good to assume, especially when she’d spent weeks planning this raid. The leader of the Husk Lizards slavery ring was notoriously clever, a man that she’d been dodging for quite some time. They were overdue for another scuffle, but she’d made sure he was offworld for this one.

Streaks of plasma sizzled against the ship, and her comm buzzed and crackled with a string of Old Corellian swears courtesy of her pilot. “Go,” She spat in response. “Lift off now.”

One bastard left. The Zeltron wanted to make a leap of faith, turn her back and gun it for the ship but she’d end up a heap on the ground before she made it even halfway. So she dashed to the side, disruptor pistol drawn as she took a few wild shots for cover while retreating towards the freighter.

Looks like it’s time for that leap of faith. Literally. Drawing the Force to her as she ducked behind a crate, a Force-aided jump sent her sailing through the air before landing heavily on the ramp as it slowly closed. “Oof,” A mish-mash of different curse words blurted from her lips as she rolled down the incline, breathing heavily. She wiggled her arms and legs to check for injuries, wincing as a sharp pain scored through her left leg. “What now?” Groaning, she sat up to examine the damage, finding the literal chink in her armor. The disruptor had nicked just below her knee, searing through the armor on her leg.

Well, at least she managed to get away.

[member="Elliot Locke"]

 

[Kenth Typho]

[member="Joza Perl"]

Wild disruptor bursts came at him in his run, but Locke did not slow down.

It was suicidal probably.

Definitely.

But when on the job Elliot didn't much consider his own life. Mostly because there were bigger things at stake here, like a dozen or so little girls being shipped out to who knows where. No, he wasn't gonna slow down and risk losing them. Most of the shots went wide as his target was busy retreating, but one burned clean past his shoulder. Didn't burn through his armorweave, but the sudden heat left its mark on his flesh.

Sizzle.

Tears were forced through, but he ignored them.

Once the armored figure did an inhumane jump towards the ramp Locke knew how late it was. Gorram forcers, always the gorram forcers and their shet.

Not that it mattered to Elly, he had his own tools for the job. With the squeeze of his palm the jets in his boots ignited and the agent was abruptly launched into the air and burst straight past the hangar door and into the ship. It hissed to a close right behind him - if he had been any slower... probably would have been snapped in half.

He didn't wait for the armored figure to recover or realize he was there, before Perl (not that Locke realized this was Perl) could turn around and react...... the SIS agent already launched himself against her form, to slam her against the wall and figure it out from there on forward.

 

[Joza Perl]

Joza had managed to right herself upwards, still a little disoriented from her landing. In the chaos, she assumed that the figure giving chase had been left behind once the ramp had been sealed off. Hands moved up towards her helmet and began to loosen it—though a necessity sometimes, she hate the damn things. Sweaty, stiff and gave her helmet hair. First up was to convene with her infiltrators and help assess the state of the slave girls.

But yeah, wouldn’t happen.

“Son of a—!” In the span of maybe a second or two, Joza found the wind sharply knocked out of her as she was forced abruptly against the wall in what she imagined was a makeshift body slam. “Urgh!” A note of panic ignited in her stomach and surged through her limbs, bringing adrenaline with it. The fight was not over, the crazy (assumed) slaving bastard had somehow managed to make it on board. Unfortunately with her helmet loosened, the comm embedded into it had been damaged in the surprise attack so there’d be no backup. At least for a little while, given that her people had orders to guard the slaves at all costs, even if that cost was her.

Joza shifted her hips and dropped her shoulder, aiming to worm her way out from under him as swiftly as possible. Her left hand quickly retrieved the knife from her boot, jabbing it in a slicing motion along the back of his knee where the armor would be weaker. It was the best she could manage in this position, her center of gravity lowered as it was.

[member="Elliot Locke"]

 

[Kenth Typho]

[member="Joza Perl"]

The clean edge of the knife cut into the armor and managed to find a little opening.

Nothing more than the area where durasteel shifted into armorweave to allow for maximum maneuverability, but that explanation didn't matter one gorram bit once the pain flashed through his systems. Luckily, the knife got caught between the jagged edges she had made herself while cutting through the weave - for a brief moment her attempt to get out was hampered.

That moment was abused entirely.

His armored gauntlet was already launched from up to down to her helmeted head.

The helmet would ensure that the person didn't end up with cuts, but it did little to nothing for kinetic forces transferred by the punch. It was immediately followed up his that same leg she had cut - knee lashing out to take her just under her chin and knock her on her ass. That was why Elly loved armor at the end of the day - something that would otherwise break his kneecap in half, would just be a ringing pain now.

Locke fought in silence. Efficient, to kill and with nothing else on his mind, he didn't derive pleasure... he simply looked for the best way to execute a person in the moment and that was all.

 

[Joza Perl]

A pinprick of anxiety punctured her chest before Joza even realized that the knife was caught in the man’s armorweave. Good catch on that one, body.

It gave her just enough time to pull away, but not enough to dodge the gauntlet entirely. The armored elbow made contact with her helmet, forcing her neck down as she swore something broke from the impact. Her nose, specifically—she had the worst luck when it came to breaking her nose, given that it happened so often. If she wasn’t in the middle of a brawl, corrective surgery would be on her mind. Preferably on his tab.

The punch disoriented her for a few moments, whoever was behind the opposing helmet certainly had a heavy swing. She stumbled back and to the side as space would allow, against the wall as a noise made of indignation and pain slipped through her lips. Pain made her angry and sometimes slowed her down, but the adrenaline in the heat of the moment helped her to focus through the ringing in her head.

As the leg came up for her, Joza’s right hand shot out, latching her fingers around the ankle. The good thing about cybernetic limbs is that they tended to be stronger than their organic counterparts—and in Joza’s case, the prosthetic she’d had for nearly a decade was twice her strength. Hand around the ankle joint, she pressed down with a vice grip and twisted sharply to the right.

The blood from her nose dripped down to her lips, the copper taste familiar but in her opinion, unnecessary.

[member="Elliot Locke"]

 

[Kenth Typho]

[member="Joza Perl"]

There was a satisfying crunch under his elbow and the sweet sound of misery that followed.

Maybe if she hadn't been wearing her helmet still, Locke would have recognized the voice. But right now it was muffled and warped through the audiofeed of the helmet system itself.

This one was quick though - anyone else wouldn't have had time to react to the knee jerking up, but this one... this one had instincts. If there was one thing that Elliot hated it were forcers. They sucked over all, but in battle they were even worse. For some reason they always had a beat on what was about to happen, probably whispered to them through that infernal force.

Her hand squeezed shut around his leg and twisted it to the right.

But Locke wasn't a young lil' trainee straight from the academy. As she twisted he twisted with and used that same momentum that Perl was offering him to twist in the air and lash out with his other leg.

Armored heel would slam right in her visor presumably.

The hold on his leg released and as he tried to stumble back, his knee almost buckled. First the knife jagged through his armor, then the metal squeeze against his leg, this was painful.

 

[Joza Perl]

At this point, Joza was beginning to think that her opponent was not a slaver. Sure, they came from different walks of life and sometimes had an unorthodox set of skills, but the way this guy moved…he was well-trained. It was clear that she wasn’t up against some punk slaver or an enforcer.

Getting kicked in the chin reinforced that point.

The force of his heel against her head was enough to send her sprawling to the side with the considerable amount of momentum that was behind it. She hit the ground several feet away, rolling to a stop as she spat blood against the inside of her visor and clouding her vision with speckles of crimson. Great. The grunt of displeasure turned into a strange sort of pained gurgle, but she clambered to her feet as quickly as she could manage with her head still swimming. Better not to stay down, at least standing she’d have half a chance to defend herself. Probably.

Locke didn’t move to attack, her but she was disoriented to the point where she couldn’t take in the fact that his leg was damaged enough to be a weak spot. Instead she moved forward, right arm raised and bearing the knife in an almost exaggerated motion as she pushed toward her opponent, knife aimed to slash down towards the hip with the intent of weakening his armor. But really, once she was within range her right knee would surge upwards to kick him in the balls.

[member="Elliot Locke"]

 

[Kenth Typho]

[member="Joza Perl"]

Locke was hurting all over, but he wasn't a rookie.

He saw a feint when it was rushing at him. Mostly because he had done his fair few of them himself throughout the years and it always came down on a single thing - was your opponent immersed enough in the adrenaline and blood that they didn't notice they were being played?

Might have worked on Sult, probably would have worked even.

But Elliot fought with his brain instead of his heart. His teeth gritted as he pushed himself off the floor - something in his knee tore as he forced himself up, but the adrenaline kept it at bay for now - and rose to meet her. But once Joza came in close and went for his groin, her knee would meet his elbow, almost punching it back from where it came.

This left him vaguely open from the right with that knife, but the punch might imbalance her enough anyway.

Either way - either she was imbalanced or would take the shot at his right flank, in the meantime Locke was already using the close proximity to his own advantage. Armored gauntlet came bearing down on her unprotected side. Once, twice, until the SIS agent could hear something crunch under its weight.

 

[Joza Perl]

The descending elbow did not escape her notice, but by then it was too late to shift course away from his balls. Instead she took the impact, shifting her leg downward with it to minimize the bruise she’d have later (maybe) and to at least keep her kneecap from being shattered. A heavy ache blossomed from her knee, up and down her leg to the point where it almost made her nauseous.

Focus.

He went in for another shot and so did she, attempting to take advantage of his momentary vulnerability and go for a straight slash to the right side of his neck with her knife, blade kissing along metal, flesh, weave—whatever it could find.

The first hit was like a shock to her ribs, causing her to hunch from the pain, the second was just relentless. A sickening crack resonated through her torso and she collapsed into an unceremonious heap, a wail of pain escaping her lip as the loosened helmet slipped off. Her face was far from pretty, bloody and mashed and angry but she hadn’t given up despite the disadvantage of losing her head protection. She rolled over onto her good side, pushing herself up with much haste as she pictured getting kicked in the chin for added effect. Or maybe in the broken ribs again.

[member="Elliot Locke"]

 

[Kenth Typho]

[member="Joza Perl"]

The knife edged through weakened armor-weave and kissed flesh.

It cut, not too deeply and luckily avoiding any major arteries, but it was enough for Locke to halt the third punch and make some distance. His opponent also rolled away and... whined in a feminine tone. The disruptor blaster was already aimed at her head, before it came loose and rolled to the side. The face bloody, scarred and in pain, but clearly the person he knew.

"The feth you doing with slavers, Perl." Locke growled out, before disengaging his own helmet and throwing it to the side. This was bad, really bad. If Joza was part of a slaver ring...

It complicated things.

Could he let her go?

No, that was out of the question, no matter what had happened between them. Part of him - the agent part - knew she had been hiding something, but the assumption had been something entirely different. Not slaves.

Never slaves.

 

[Joza Perl]

The pain and adrenaline clouded her glare, but the bitter hardness was still there. That was, until it evaporated upon hearing her name from the stranger.

And then came the face.

“Locke?” She didn’t bother to hide her surprise, she couldn’t hide it if she tried. He seemed to be just as thrown as she was, but the gun to her head did not go unnoticed.

“It’s not what it—“ A pause as her face screwed up in discomfort as a laborious cough shook her body. Blood bubbled from between her lips and she leaned over to hack some of it onto the ground, a tooth going along with it. “…looks like.” She gasped, shifting what she could of her body to lean against the wall with an exasperated groan. There was something in his eye behind the anger and adrenaline—disappointment? Her heart sank a little at the realization, but she knew that she was in a rough situation.

“I don’t run with them.” Grumble, grumble. “An’ I hope you’re only here because we tried to bust up the same ring at the same time.” That would be the best scenario. Her gaze locked onto his, unwavering but bloodshot and exhausted. “I’m taking them somewhere safe. A halfway house, sort of.” She exhaled sharply through her nose. “If you believe that. I’m not sure if I would believe me, to be fair."

[member="Elliot Locke"]

 

[Kenth Typho]

[member="Joza Perl"]

Locke searched her eyes for something, before grunting.

That was about the same time his helmet started humming with chatter. The exact words were lost, but it was enough excuse for him to disengage from the situation for now and do something... else. The disruptor went back into his holster and he tried to go for the helmet, only realizing then that he was really bleeding all over the place - from his neck, from his knee and from half a dozen other spots throughout the battle.

Again he grunted. This time it was pain.

Half-limping he got there and put the helmet to his ear.

"Yeah, everything's fine here. No - apparently we hit the same location as another team. Don't worry, you got them? Alright. Make sure they are alive, we will need them, if we want to get to Deero himself."

This entire op would be garbage, if they didn't get enough leads to figure out where the Husk Lizards' boss liked to hang around. The helmet dropped down again, his hand was now holding his neck... sticky blood.

"I believe you." He finally responded, his eyes on the blood. "I also believe we need medical attention."

A snort escaped him.

"Again."

 

[Joza Perl]

Joza let out the breath she didn’t know that she had been holding in. In truth, she expected that she’d have to do more convincing for Elliot to believe her, but here they were.

“Yeah,” She almost smiled a little at the situation they’d found themselves in, eyeing the blood that seeped from the wound on his neck with newfound concern. “Sorry ‘bout that. Thought you were one of them.”

They’d both fought under that impression.

With a labored grunt, she pushed herself further up into a sitting position, wincing as she readjusted to something a bit more workable. Joza had never been much of a healer when it came to the Force, so she took to mastering Crucitorn. At the very least, she could be able to take some of the pain away. “Come here,” She gestured for him to sit by her. “I can cauterize the cut on your neck. Once we get to the safe house, we can get actual medical attention.”

Someone would figure out that something was wrong, and either Ivan or one of the armored girls would find them back here. Bloodied and battered, but alive.

"You fought really hard for those girls, huh?" Her voice lowered and softened, though there was still a ragged edge to it where injuries and pain were concerned.

[member="Elliot Locke"]

 

[Kenth Typho]

[member="Joza Perl"]

With a heavy thunk Locke almost collapsed next to her.

Then he was leaning against the wall, but his neck stretching to the other side to give her some room to work with. Part of him was exhausted, bigger part of him was glad that he wouldn't have to fight through and kill every single soul on this ship to rescue those little girls.

After a fight like this one? Would have been complicated.

At least complicated enough that crossfire causalities were a far greater risk than they had been when he first jumped into this ship. Her voice filtered through the haze of pain and gloom.

Automatically a shrug followed him - which only hurt his neck more.

"Someone's gotta be there for 'em." Elliot snorted at the idea of him being a protector. Just the thought of him, all bloodied and trash and dirt. They deserved something far better than what he had to offer. "Might as well be me."

He tried to look at her without karking up her attempts to fix his neck.

"Then again, they got you, might be even better."

 

[Joza Perl]

As Elliot seated himself next to her in an unceremonious thump, Joza’s gaze honed in on the slash at his neck. Her heart thudded once, almost painfully so at seeing the wound she’d made. In the moment it seemed right, of course…he was, for all that she knew, a slaver who was intent on retaining his property. He’d thought the same of her, from the way a heavy ache blossomed through her ribs and racked her torso.

“You’re crazy,” Her voice lowered to a soft murmur as a both hands went up to cup his neck at either side of the gash. “This will burn.” A whisper ghosted from her lips as she fought through the pain and nausea from the come-down, gathering heat to her hand and focusing it into her pointer finger. “Jumping onto a ship of who knows what like that.” Her voice was mild, devoid of any mockery or praise as her efforts went into searing the skin at his neck together. No flame, just a whole lot of concentrated heat as the wound slowly began to cauterize.

The scent of burnt blood reached her quickly given their proximity, but Joza didn’t have anything sterile to wipe it away before she began, and she wasn’t about to use her sleeve and introduce Force knows what kind of bacteria into the open wound. The heat from the cauterization was enough to sterilize anything bad on the wound itself.

She did pause, though, at that last thing he said.

“Well, now they’ve got both of us.”

Back to work she went, using her finger like a precise little sauntering iron. There wasn’t much emotion going on at her end, probably from a mix of pain, concentration, and not being sure how to act in this particular situation.

[SIZE=11pt]“Once we get to Igor’s, we’ll get some real medical attention. The girls, too. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s warm and dry and we can get them some clean clothes and a decent meal.” Malnutrition was a big issue with slaves, right up there with black eyes and bruises. “I try not to feed them the same crap that the customers get, though.”[/SIZE]

[member="Elliot Locke"]

 

[Kenth Typho]

[member="Joza Perl"]

Locke gritted his teeth in preparation for the pain.

But there was little to prepare him for the pain that washed over his pain, his vision swimming in colors, but by some astonishing wonder he managed to keep himself from cursing out loud. Just barely though. After all, she had literally just burned his wound shut, which wasn't a pleasant experience in the best of times. But with all the other stuff going on... it was just adding all up.

"Well..." He coughed awkwardly as the pain started to recede. "You know me, I can get fairly... focused when I bite into something."

Hell, in truth Locke hadn't realized he was actually launching himself into her ship, until he already crashed into the little cargo bay. By then it was obviously too late for second guesses and the sort.

Not that Elly would say that out-loud, of course.

She seemed fairly impressed after all.

"I figured you were giving me the crappy stuff last time I was there." Smirk tugging to signify the joke - it turned into a grimace again, as a muscle pulled at the pain.

 

[Joza Perl]

She rolled her eyes at his little jab, but it was an endearing motion. “Careful,” She chided, flicking away a few scabs of burned and hardened blood. “Don’t want to reopen that. Got anything else that needs work?” The neck was easy, considering their positioning. Given than her leg was damaged and her ribs broken, Joza doubted she would be able to walk, at least not without some type of support.

“And yet you’ve been there how many times?” It was her turn to smirk, though it was vague and lucid given the constant ache in her side. Briefly, and without thought, her lips ghosted over the reddened flesh at his neck in an apologetic, tender gesture. He was going to scar, there she was sure of it.

She paused, tilting her head upwards to lock eyes with him as sincerity widened her gaze. “Can you do me a favor though and…not tell anyone about this place? I don’t mean Igor’s, but the safe house beneath it.” She glanced away briefly, as if gathering her thoughts before turning back to Elliot. “It’s actually the whole reason I bought the place, to serve as a cover. Not the nicest, mind you, but…I’ve had good luck so far, and I really don’t want to think about what would happen if the slavers I antagonize found out about it.”

But she had, of course. Layers of security measures were in place, not the most advanced, but enough to give them warning if anything were to happen. Paranoia? Pretty much.

[SIZE=11pt]“That’s actually the reason I grabbed your face when you were there. The boys had seen you around, or someone they mistook for you and thought you were casing the joint.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt][member="Elliot Locke"][/SIZE]

 

[Kenth Typho]

[member="Joza Perl"]

Her lips on his skin.

It hurt, but somehow Locke didn't seem to mind much. Just a soft grunt of pain before the pressure lifted from his flesh again and gave him some room to breathe. In truth Elly was mostly focused on his own pain right now. Like little localized cores stretched through his body and radiating hurt. Interestingly enough this wasn't the worst shape he had been in - but the adrenaline was leaving his system and that was always a tough come-down.

"Secret's safe with me." Elly mumbled, before leaning back deeper into the durasteel. His eyes closed and breath taking a far more steady approach.

"As long as you make me sound heroic and competent in your stories."

From the folds and straps of his armor, he tried to fish out his pack of cigarettes.

If there was ever of a moment to smoke a pack it was right now.