A Meeting of Great Minds

[Zaiden Dean]

Clad in his Armorweave suit - jet black in attire, with a blood red emblem of a Krayt on the chest, and mimicing horns along the top of his head - Zane Korruptus shone like the ever vigilant sign of justice he was. Recently a long time rival of his, one Zaiden, now known as Zander, got in contact with the Dark Knight. His message was simple and sweet:

Z to DK,
Met a kid with surprising abilities. In your general field of expertise. Offered him a job, knew you might need a 'side kick'. Name's [member="Glyph"] .​

Like all messages between the two, each word was coded severely so upon the likely hood of interception, it could never be understood. But, still he was sure of its contents, as the two had actually created the language used.

Drawing his cowl from his head, Zane relished in the cool Coruscanti air, then spotted his target. He stood, silent and staring for a long time. Nothing shifted through the mans thoughts save one thing.

He would confront the child, and commend him on the ability to spy on the ex-Stealth Master. If he could, the Dark Knight thought maybe the youth would come under his wing to become an ever better slicer and detective.

Turning on his heel he drew his mask back on once again, fitting in place snug as if a second skin. He then waited a moment for the electronics to come online. His HUD soon spread across the pure white goggles attached to the mask, showing a full 360 degrees around. His cape was ready, capable of becoming hard as steel when a surge of electricity went through. Thrusters, wrist blaster, sensors, everything was ready.

Running for the edge of the roof he tapped a button attached to his belt and leapt from the building, his arms at his sides. When he finally did extend them forward, his cape shifted form to follow suit, seeming as if a massive pair of dragon wings now attached to his under arms and ended at his waist. All the while obviously remaining attached to his back.

Like this he began to glide over the young man's general vicinity. Every now and again a tiny shot of juice from his boot thrusters sent him higher up, thus never bringing him to close to the ground.

Then a message in the very same language he and Zander used was sent to the boy.

Only 1 in a trillion could ever hope to comprehend the words. But from what he was told, he was confident it would be this kid.

Look up. Follow me. If this perks your interest.​

 

[Ashin Varanin]

"HOLY FRELLING DREN."

Eyes wide as saucers, Jethro Merrill yanked his blaster free of its holster and watched the dude with wings. Silent, black, covered in latex and phallic iconography, probably armed and armored to the hilt-

Oh, and flying.

Had to be Sith. Had to be.

"FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFETH!"

[member="The Dark Knight"] was flying overhead; Jethro had definitely glanced up at the wrong time. Now he was in the process of losing it. His death stick tumbled from his lips, forgotten.

"WHAT THE FRACKING SHAVVIT! KARK!"

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Jethro Merrill"]

A guy trundled into the scene and promptly froze in place.

Eyes went from the bat-like… thing flying through the sky, to the same damn guy that had been on Mos Esley- back to the bat.

He gulped.

Then he firmly turned around and started to retrace his steps.

There is only so much crazy one can handle in one night.

 

[Allyson Locke]

[member="Jethro Merrill"]

So I was in charge of watching this guy. Don't know why but that's the job I picked up. The old man seemed busy with saving the world and his ungrateful daughter. I felt my face melt into a frown as I thought about her. Heck if my old man was as cool as Ember I would have has such an awesome childhood. Sighing I did my best to pull myself out if this pity party and continue to focus with my stake out. Standing brim behind the bin I went to open my mouth and say something, mostly to question what this guy was all about.

Then he started to scream. Looking up I saw what he was screaming about and screamed as well. I was such a little girl when things like this happened. Looking at Jethro I kept screaming because he was and had lost his death stick.

I just kept screaming.

 

[Zaiden Dean]

Zane glanced downward, and his sensors zoomed onto the screaming man, whose eyes met his own for a brief moment. He grinned.

Activating his thrusters much more acutely, he spiraled upward, dropping his wings for the barest of seconds. When he felt the time was just right, he spun and faced the man. Letting his thrusters die off, Zane focused on holding himself in the air with the Force. He couldnt, but at such a height, the slow descent would appear he was hovering without any aid.

Then, like that, he arced his legs over his head, twisting backwards as he did so, concentrated his Force connection on a specific place then kicked off of it. Dropping his arms to his sides again, then upwards, his wings returned and he resumed his glide.

Kark. That had made him lose his target!

[member="Glyph"] [member="Allyson Locke"] [member="Khaleel Malvern"] [member="Jethro Merrill"] (LOL love coming back to random stuff like this!)

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="The Dark Knight"] [member="Khaleel Malvern"] [member="Allyson Locke"]

"FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF!"

The heavy blaster pistol in his hand held twenty shots. He put upwards of ten into the general airspace of the freak with the wings.

 

[Zaiden Dean]

The first few rounds were far to short to be of concern, with Zane's sensors showing their approach as well. But then a few came a bit to close for comfort, and not just once was he forced into evasive maneuvers. First a deep barrel roll to the left, where he felt the heat of one that nearly hit his leg, then even more fancy work like releasing his wings to dive downward then pull out of the dive to let his momentum raise up.

What was the guys problem? Probably didnt like seek a demonic looking being mid the starry night sky on Coruscant.

He didnt care, pausing for the briefest of moments yet again he stared at the man, attempting to meet his eyes as he concentrated on his strongest offensive Force Ability: Neural Storm. Hoping to completely overload the mans senses, causing severe disorientation.

[member="Jethro Merrill"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="The Dark Knight"]

Extreme but momentary disorientation flooded Jethro's brain, cut the cords of his knees, jammed cottonless Q-tips into his ears until he nearly puked, gave him an electrocution-like absence of balance and situational awareness.

Extreme but momentary. Gravel cut into his left palm -- when had he fallen? -- and he brushed it away as he stood. He left trails of blood and grit on his coat, which sucked, because it was his only coat. His tingling hand settled onto the pommel of his gun and cupped the base of the fist wrapped around the grip. His feet shifted as he settled into the stance he'd learned as a cop, back when the world was flat.

Anger turned his whatthefrack confusion into a cold incredulous focus that intended to connect point A to point B by way of a plasma bolt through Zane's skull. The next four shots went out with a metric fethton more accuracy; the stance alone did that, even if it wasn't optimized for shooting at something above you.

 

[Zaiden Dean]

Distance, that was the only thing on Zane's side. If he were closer, dodging would be far more impossible, as he would then have to distance himself. Dropping his wings, and keeping his thrusters off, Zane plummeted at the same time as the shots were fired. One flew far overhead, but at that time the jig was up and each shot followed his fall. But again there is only so much human calculation can obtain: such as the one that tore off the right horn protrusion that held his hearing oriented sensors.

He was effectively deaf.

Reaching into a pouch on his belt, Zane gripped three of the Dragon Scales he carried - assorted grenades all attached to long thin steel knives - which he hurled at the ground near his sudden opponent. Each would be detonated upon jarring contact - such as striking anything. The second they were released he again sought to keep the man disoriented.

Why the man sought an opponent now no longer mattered. He was a criminal, scum that needed to be erased. He had attempted to shoot at someone for no discernible reason. He wanted death obviously. So Zane would acquiesce and give him his yearning.

His plans hadn't changed however, he simply added the face to his memory, for he would seek the man out at a later time.

Continuing his drop, he past the line of the large path the man and Glyph were on, opened his wings again then continued his flight - now underneath the path.

[member="Jethro Merrill"]

 

[Allyson Locke]

My mouth closed and my screams stopped. I felt something warm above my upper lip. Ew I was bleeding and the world felt suddenly twisted. Had I taken something before coming here? I know sometimes I get a little nervous and have my fair share in sone of the galaxy's lovely drugs, but the more I thought about it I realized I'm poor.

It hit me again causing me to fall to my knees. The first tasted of digested Bantha burger filled my mouth and then I saw the digested Bantha burger in front of me. "Gross..." I took a minute and to dig in my pocket for a mint. after eating it I pulled out my own blusters and fired at the swooping sith. Days like this make me hate forcers. Seeing that the guy next to me had a bigger gun, I focused on it learning quickly how to improve it through the force. The only thing I could do with that invisible religion, I used mecha deru to enhance the range and accuracy of the weapon. The rest was up to him.

Maybe I can work out dinner from this guy. "You know what the kark that thing is?!" Hopefully my breath didn't smell when I yelled at him.

[member="Jethro Merrill"] [member="The Dark Knight"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="The Dark Knight"] [member="Allyson Locke"]

Cold eyes tracked the descending vigilante. He'd halfway expected to get hit with another mindwhammy, or see the flying dick draw a sidearm. What he saw, instead, in a moment of terrified and furious clarity, was a throwing motion.

Yeah, that pretty much always meant grenades.

His feet froze under him, paralyzed by conflicting directional impulses, but a basic shooting stance transferred pretty straightforwardly into a getthefethouttahere stance. To wit: a backpedal, then some more backpedal, then sprawling behind a trash can from the sheer momentum of his Grandmaster-level getthefethouttahere. Stray shrapnel cut his cheek, his thigh, his shin. He scrambled up against the railing and brought his gun to bear on the fether pirouetting below the level of the bridge. He forced himself to set his stance again, take the extra second to make the shot count. This power pack only had five shots left. He put three of them out there as best he could, bolstered -- unknown to him -- by the mechu-deru enhancing his weapon's accuracy and power. If he was gonna take this Sith down -- a possibility that filled his mind with what the frell would I do next? -- it'd be by attrition.

"No, but I got a name for him," Jethro bit out. "Cap'n Phalluspandex. Just lookit all that there iconography."

 

[Zaiden Dean]

(Lmao man your still my favorite writer Jon. XD)

Ssssssiiit. A strange burning smell began to permeate around Zane as his descent began, increasing by the second. Glancing to the right he saw two holes in his wing, then finally noticed a deep throbbing beginning in his left gluteus. The karker had shot him! Thanks to the hole, with weight on the down pull, he was tearing his own wing now!

Slapping it closed, with a silent curse, Zane began to add as much of a boost as he could from his thrusters, and likewise force abilities. Keeping himself completely straight would be impossible, but he had been through this before and still knew how to handle the situation. First he kept himself in a lazy horizontal roll, while simply guiding the flight now as he went down.

Then abruptly he shifted his position, and all at once hit the full power on both his thrusters and the minor boost his 'pack had. Shooting straight up, the man figured screw it, and used the last of his juice to bring himself over the railing where he had previously passed then forward down the line towards the man who fired at him. The moment he had climbed high enough to be of danger, Zane finally closed the other wing, and brought his full concentration on one final bout of Neural Storm - this one far stronger than the last.

He drained what meager reserves he had left, while simultaneously whipping two more Dragon Scales at his opponents female ally, and seeking to hit the man himself like a human rocket.

[member="Jethro Merrill"] [member="Allyson Locke"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="The Dark Knight"] [member="Allyson Locke"]

A switch flipped in Jethro's head. It was not a switch that had existed before today, or at least he'd never known it existed, so specific was the i/o it controlled. The switch responded to the concept that a ridiculously attractive girl -- even more than the average ridiculously attractive girl, the fundamental demographic of the galaxy -- had his back, and was shooting along with him.

Of course, she had her own problems to deal with, like grenades. And he had his, like the massive disorientation that made him reel and vomit just as the Dark Knight slammed into him without warning. Curdled, greenish puke -- remind me never to eat there again -- fountained over the masked avenger's facemask.

As the Dark Knight bore Jethro down to the ground, he did about the only thing he could do past the splitting headache and the projectile vomit.

He did his level best to dig his blaster muzzle into Phalluspandex's leftmost floating ribs. Oh, and fire until his power pack clicked empty.

 

[Zaiden Dean]

As previously stated, distance made dodging easy, once you were literally atop your opponent - well yeah. Good luck.

Zane only had one single option when he saw the arm moving to line up a shot. Swinging his elbow down, then outward, he shoved the guns barrel away from his upper ribs. Not fast enough though - a well placed shot ran through his lower left abdomen, carving a pretty well rounded hole through the man. The other narrowly missed. Instantly blood swelled in his mouth, mixing with saliva to create a nasty iron tasting substance.

He hoped being slammed into the ground by a human rocket would be enough to incapacitate the man. And he hadn't seen anything pertaining to the woman again: yet.

Rolling off his enemy, he growled out, his comlink transmitting the mission to his Droid Mind, "ACE..send th..e..ship.." He knew it would take but a few moments before the very same StealthX he had always rode in, would swoop in, lower the custom appendage that hung from the bottom for emergencies such as this, and make off with his unconscious body.

He probably should focus more on upping his Force connection, being the very last thought to cross his mind before his consciousness faded to darkness, with a slump of his form.

[member="Jethro Merrill"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="The Dark Knight"] [member="Allyson Locke"]

A wind rose, and the howl of starship engines really fething close. With a grunt, Jethro levered himself up by the trash can.

Then grabbed it by its handles and slammed it up into the nose of the Stealth X.

Nothing happened; he wasn't aiming for damage so much as injecting the Batwing with some of his own getthefethouttahere. Some kind of mechanical appendage descended, grabbing hold of the fallen Captain Phalluspandex, and Jethro latched onto the freak's belt, more by instinct than deliberate will -- he couldn't give a crap if the dude escaped, but it seemed like the thing to do. Between Jethro's weight, the belt's clasp, the mechanical whatnot's servos and the StealthX's repulsors, something had to give. Spoiler: it was not the spaceship.

The belt had a bunch of pouches; as he watched the StealthX fly away at top speed with its cargo of humanoid bat, he made a note not to investigate the pouches until he had some really good thick gloves on. They smelled funky, or maybe that was the puke with which he'd liberally doused the Dark Knight's facemask and the concrete.

"Hey chiquita, you doin OK over there?"

He sat down beside the fallen trash can a little harder than intended, sore in fifteen places and still immeasurably dizzy. Oh, and shrapneled. Thoroughly shrapneled.

An aerosol can labeled 'Shark Repellant' tumbled from the belt; he gave it a reproachful look. It offered no help.