Act III: Insurrection

[Voroll]

Rebels – Heading towards Galaar’s location

If it weren’t for his hand holding the hilt of his sword in place, it would have clanged against his right thigh multiple times while running, or jogging. It didn’t speed him up, but it stopped an otherwise-loud nuisance. His own position was probably compromised due to the colour of his armour. A large white target running around grey and black streets amidst grey and black smoke from burning speeders, buildings and other things that looked suspiciously like corpses.
He wanted to get to the clone as quickly as possible, there could be anything wandering the streets and anyone of those things could be hostile. He had requested aid so he must have needed it. Voroll could provide little aid other than being a meat-shield, despite there being no chance that he would sacrifice himself even for another person.

He stopped when he reached another wall and spun his back against it. With the spin the pistol swung around and eyes darted to make a quick arc of the area before continuing on. Nothing had followed him. He placed the length of the barrel of the pistol into his mouth so that he could use both hands in scaling the wall. It was not high, but not small enough to vault over. He did the same thing when he landed, after crouching; a swing of the pistol through the immediate area to spot any possible hostiles, or even friendlies. Just anything that moved, really. It was a small garden, or so it seemed. With a square of grass and beds of flowers all pristine amidst the chaos outside. At least there could be something to survive in this bloodbath.
Continuing through the garden to the exit, Voroll checked his wrist-mounted communication system. Not far now. He crept through, hand on hilt and finger on trigger. How easy life would have been with a vibroblade smaller than the vibrosword he possessed. Maybe half its current length would do a lot better. It would be easier to carry, easier to swing and provide a better deal of training experience than with something full-length.
The road in front of the house and garden was empty aside from a few speeders that had seen much, much better days. Galaar’s signal came from somewhere around here. So slowly, ever slowly, Voroll approached each speeder; pistol in one arm and sword just slightly out of the scabbard for easy access in case it was a trap. The first speeder yielded nothing, but when the second came into view, Voroll made a number of side-steps to that the right side of the clone was visible. It was then that he saw the companion of Galaar’s, the strill – the name of which Voroll could not recall.
“Galaar?” He called hesitantly.

@[member="Galaar CC-252"]

 

[The Pale]

@[member="Asar Anchti"]

The Pale took the sword against the hordes of mindless jabbering foes. Mandalor itself had fallen under a dark spell, and so suddenly. What, how, where or when this attack began was something he wasn't all to concerned about. That could be figured out latter. In the now he needed to connect with any command and control that might be active and link up with some of their forces. For the last hour though he'd found no one. No one that wasn't trying to tear his body to pieces that is. And some exception was taken to that. The Pale dropped his blade deep into the shoulder of some man. Most weren't even soldiers, mind controlled ghouls of the citizens of this world. Pain that it caused to be killing fellow brethren was overridden by a need to survive this nightmare. Blood spewed forth from the wound, Pale kicked the dying monster in the chest and send the body crashing in to a bay door of a building. A nice metallic sound ringed. "Dammit, I can't keep running around another hour. There must be some alive out there still".

 

[Gilamar Skirata]

@[member="Mia Monroe"] @Ordo @Preliat Mantis @Kira Liadain @Vulpesen @Strider Garon @TiCira D'Arr Hawk @Verz Horak @Mandalore the Insurgent

Nodding his head the old man sighed. "She's right. This is the last bastion of hope in the Galaxy, the final front." placing his hands on his hips he began to think. How many of them were left? How easily could this Akala take control of her subjects? With a snap of her fingers? Or did it take some sort of isolated indoctrination technique? All of these things had been left unanswered. "We can assume that from the state of their troops now air support will be nearly impossible. All we can do for now is gear up and get ready for a fight. Keep a close eye on each other, and don't let anyone fall behind. Unless they're dead. Oya?" Maybe a bit brutal, but death was just another part of life for the old man, as well as many Mandalorians, it seemed fitting. "But try and survive until this is all over...I have this stinking feeling that this is all some sort of Force trick..."

There was something nagging him about what this new Mand'alor had said earlier. He wondered who he really was...

 

[Rusken Shaxx]

This wasn't ideal for the given circumstances. Why was he waiting on these people? Why did he bother? He could just as easily leave them to die and run off and fight the battle for the better of everyone else. What did it matter if a few lives were lost but for a moment, blood would be shed either way, regardless of what anyone might try. It may be an unforgivable act in war, yet it wouldn't rule as treason. These were not his people.

"Come with me if you so desire, fight on if you must, but know that your lives don't mean anything to me. I will abandon you, and no empathy will be felt on my part."

He turned away from both Sarah and Andreas, continuing towards the location of the party near the tunnels. If there was an explanation for this disarray, he seek for that very answer. There was a war going on that had no meaning thus far, no realized purpose or visible end; however, one thought still gnawed at the back of his mind. Why was he here? What brought him here? If it was going to take blood-shed to find resolve, then he'd gladly follow this wayward path.

Moments passed by, and finally he came across those whom seemed able and resisted what lurked about the streets. His appearance might mislead them into thinking him someone keen on attempting to gun them down or chop them to bits, but this was false. He'd have to show them he meant no ill intent. Zius' rough appearance and the visual of his artificial blood stained to his armour might be controversial to the eye, along with what would obviously not be his own gore strewn across his coat and dripping blade-tipped fingers. He made his approach.

"Before you think of making a move against me, know that I'm not crazed. The name's Zius, I'm not sure if any of you have been receiving my signal, but I'm with the Templars, and I sure am thankful for your bloody assistance."

His voice was -ridden- with sarcasm, like termites that infected a wooden foundation or skeleton of a home.

@Preliat Mantis @Gilamar Skirata @Kira Liadain @Vulpesen @Strider Garon @TiCira D'Arr Hawk @Mia Monroe @Verz Horak @Racket

 

[Eenes Kokad]

REBELS

Eenes cautiosly peered out of the alley, lightsaber inactive in her hand. The city seemed deserted, but there were Force signatures everywhere. Big ones. She entered the street and felt the eerie sensation of being watched.
Sounds of life floated through the Force from a building missing its upper stories to her left. Without thinking, she left the street and entered the wreckage. There were people - or at least a person - below. Ignoring the lift, Eenes cautiosly descended the stairs. If there were allies, she could join them; if not, she had other options.

@[member="Circe Savan"]

 

[Galaar Tal'Verda]

Rebels on the Street

Galaar was clutching the bloody wound on his chest, his breathing was slowly becoming more and more labored. Haar'chak. I wanted to die much quicker than this, a blaster shot to the skull would have likely been a better way to go. He heard the comms in his helmet, only a few people tagging in to listen to his call of aid and in the distance there was a large spiral of smoke and the screeches of some kind of devil-like monster. One hand reached out to clutch his rifle and the other went to pet his strill, his only constant companion. Need bacta, but right now, I need to save my stims in-case I need to get up and dance.

He spoke into his comms again, once more in a public channel. "Haar'chak, whoever is out there are some lazy chakaars." Bereaving anyone who could hear put a grin on his face, Galaar was never one for cruelty but for now it felt warranted.

He heard a friendly voice from across the street though, he realized he must look dead in his armor for its showed no signs of movement but now he suddenly stirred and looked up, that blue T-shaped visor landing square on Voroll. The Imperial Knight would likely note the bloody hole in his chest which was slowly leaking down his dapple-camo armor and smearing across the mythosaur skull pained in. The strill stood suddenly and narrowed its eyes on Voroll, giving a low, protective snarl.

"Udesii! Lor'ika! Udesii!" Voroll would likely note the deep wheeze to his voice, distorting his normal posture and the wet, hacking cough he gave afterword did not sound healthy in the slightest. "Haar'chak its good to see a friendly face!" Wheeze. Cough. "I would get up and embrace you but as you can tell I'm kadala bal daab." There was also oddly static in his helmet's speaker, he'd hold out a hand to Voroll but look at Canal. "You are not in charge and if you assume you are I will break you. I'm still functional."

"Voroll! Help me up! We gotta get moving or we're all shabla kyrayc."


@[member="CC-117 Canal"] @[member="Voroll Dey Astaar"] @[member="Keter"]


@Mia Monroe @Ordo @Preliat Mantis @Kira Liadain @Vulpesen @Strider Garon @TiCira D'Arr Hawk @Verz Horak @Mandalore the Insurgent
@[member="Gilamar Skirata"]

 

[Onrai]

@[member="Eenes Kokad"]

An eye noticed another Force Sensitive nearby. This one was a Jedi Knight, and while she didn't really like Jedi for their being puppets, it was more than likely that this person was as clueless as she. Eying the stares, she pointed her Mist rather calmly at the woman with a sigh on her face as she looked the sinister Quarren over.

"Well, I wouldn't have expected a Quarren Jedi. Where have I been the past twenty years?"

 

[Eenes Kokad]

REBELS
@[member="Circe Savan"]
"A defined nose does not a Jedi make." Lightsaber still inactive but ready to be activated defensively, Eenes looked over the armored woman. It was a surprise she hadn't felt her darkness before, but the Force felt strange here. Now, though... "Or a Sith, I might add. What are you doing here?" If nothing else, perhaps I can get some answers out of her.

 

[Voroll]

Rebels – In the street, still.

In truth Voroll had no idea what the clone had said when he spoke Mando’a. It was a language that sounded oddly angry no matter what was being said; it had short syllables and harsh letters scattered throughout its vocabulary. But it was still a language that the non-Mando would like to learn. He committed himself to trying to remember those words and phrases Galaar said, although repeating them internally. He would probably have to loot a Mando’a – Basic dictionary when he found a bookstore, or after all this blew over.

The bloodied hole, with visible leaked the “red stuff” caught the attention of Voroll when he approached. After he had realised that Galaar was in fact alive, the pistol had been holstered and his sword fell back into its sheath. He ran over to the clone and slid against the concrete to look over the wound. He knew it was bad; he knew Galaar knew it was bad as well. The sound of his coughing and breathing did not make anything easier.

Voroll’s left arm shot under the clone’s right, and Voroll’s right to Galaar’s left to almost literally drag him from the floor. He was not a particularly strong twenty-year old, but he had his talent, especially when someone was injured.
As he lifted the man he felt a tinge run right the way through his body, centred from his chest. He did not mirror the pain the wound gave the clone, but he knew where it was coming from and what it felt like. It was unpleasant, to say the least. Voroll’s mind was concerned not on picking up emotion and feeling, but more on finding somewhere safe. Out of the streets.

Surrounding them were buildings, many were boarded with sheets of metal and bricks and some more primitively with wood. Others were left open completely. Voroll spotted one closest, which had a mixture of wood and sheet metal boarding it. From what he could see it had not even been tampered with. A good place to hide.

@[member=Galaar CC-252]

 

[Onrai]

@[member="Eenes Kokad"]

You actually think I know? I was testing a hyperspace stabilizer and I ended up here. According to my suit, it's 857ABY. We're on Mandalore. I'm guessing that's your date, right? Or if not, you're as clueless as I am, right?"

Hopefully, this woman could give her some answers.

 

[Galaar Tal'Verda]

Rebels - In the Street

Galaar grunted as he was hoisted up by the Imperial Knight in Storm Trooper armor. It'd likely be obvious to Canal that the two known each other atleast moderately well from the past. The man grunted in his armor, which sounded more like a rush of huffing, squeezed air though the helmet's filters. The pain of being moved suddenly was nearly blinding. "Dead Mando Gods, I shouldn't have sat still that long. Canal... Watch our backs, you too Lor'ika." The strill made an odd chirping growl as walked a good few feet in front of them, blasterfire kicked up again but this time closer.

Galaar's eyes sifted through his HUD, at this point they'd lost connection to Calico's cam and vitals. Galaar closed his eyes and gave a silent prayer to whatever was listening that his brother would make it to somewhere safe; he even prayed that Bluejay and Isley would make it out of this alive too even though they both seemed rather hostile.

The clone reached up with his free-arm, and unsealed his helmet before tugging it off. The various scents that were blocked by the filter overtook him. The scent of ozone and ash was much thicker and death... The scent of death, he smelled it before but never this deep. He looked at Voroll, this was the first time that the Imperial Knight would have seen his face. He never removed the helmet once on Raxus, instead using the built in feeder and liquid rations to keep himself going. His face was that of Jango Fett out of holo-records but different in so many ways... He had a trimmed goatee and his hair was cut high-and-tight, across his left-jaw bone the number 252 was tattooed in and there was a scar on the same side of his face that went from his jaw depression to eye-socket. "Its good to see you Vo'ika. Sorry we couldn't meet under better circumstances like a nice bar with a few dozen twi'lek waitresses."

@[member="Voroll Dey Astaar"] @CC-117 Canal

 

[Voroll]

Rebels – In the street,
that is what we are,
no Kursed in between,
how can we be wrong?
Hop away with me,
to another street,
and we rely on each other, ah-ha,
From one Mando to a Forcie, ah-ha!

Voroll had worried that much about staying alive and then the state of Galaar, that he had completely missed the other clone, @[member="CC-117 Canal"]. When he arrived he did not know his name, but through the orders from, apparently, his superior, it became known as Canal. Voroll had yet to talk to Canal.

So far the impressionable Esselian had remembered the Mando’a words of haar’chak and shabla kyr… something. It was a good start, to say this was the first time he had seen Galaar since the events on the Junkworld. Although he had yet to translate them, or even ask what they meant. He probably could do that since the clone had used them so freely in front of him.

A few more paces and the pair would be at the door of this building. The metal would need a bend and some of the planks may require breaking, but a good kick, or two, should suffice. It was when, while they slowly moved away from the open street, that the man whose face remained a mystery to Voroll, removed his helmet. He had heard of the clones of Fett numerous times, but could never remember what their biological ancestor… or self… looked like.
It was an odd experience, which took a few seconds to allow the boy to adjust from the face of the man who had arguably – very much so as well – saved his life back to the real world and the events that were unfolding.
“And just when I was starting to think that helmet was your face.” His tone was almost empty, despite the naturally-joyous pitch he had and the air of sarcasm that radiated from his mouth.

@[member="Galaar CC-252"]

 

[Galaar Tal'Verda]

Rebels - In a brunt out shack on the surface.

Galaar couldn't help grin at Voroll's remark, he understood the humor under it. Galaar was an expert on humor, or, at least thought he was. "Naaa... I just hid my ugly mug under the helmet so people don't tell I smoke spice and practice dark sorcery on the side." The clone himself, was deeply sarcastic, besides the fact that he was force dead and that automatically said no to sorcery. Though whether he did spice or not was the question.

"I'll get the door," Galaar wheezed and looked at Voroll with a determination in those eyes that could only be attributed to a rather insane soldier.... Or a rather stable one who knew his limits very well. It was hard to tell. Either way the clone tried to stand up and balance himself without the need of his friend.

@Voroll Dey Astaar @CC-117 Canal

 

[Preliat Mantis]

@Preliat Mantis @Gilamar Skirata @Kira Liadain @Vulpesen @Strider Garon @TiCira D'Arr Hawk @Mia Monroe @Verz Horak @[member="Mandalore the Insurgent"]


REBELS - SANCTUARY


"As far as I'm concerned, Mia, the rest of the galaxy can burn. I only care about my planet and my people."He snapped, before he turned back at the new Mandalore, staring him down behind his mask. He wore a more archaic armor, which made sense, given the situation, at least, by the mask he wore. A lot could happen in twenty years, that much Preliat knew. He blinked, and then tilted his head at the man.

"What happened?"

 

[Djorn Bline]

Rebel, With Galaar and Voroll

Good Galaar was still functional and he laughed when Galaar threatened him on breaking him. Hey its what the protocol says so you can break the backs of the idiots who made the protocol. Who is the guy that Galaar knows. Well its nice to know that he is a friendly and someone that Canal can trust.

He then covered their backs when Galaar ordered him to do that. While he had his pistol out ready to shoot to thrill Canal heard the two men having a conversation. Canal made small chuckles whenever Galaar made jokes and was being sarcastic so they wouldn't know he was eavesdropping.

Then they reached a shack that looked burnt up and pretty damaged. Canal turned around and aimed the pistol at the door so if they ran into some tangled business. "Galaar if you want I can get the door." Canal saw Galaar trying to keep his balance without the help of the other man. Canal could tell that Galaar wasn't having a good time on balancing himself.

@[member="Galaar CC-252"] @[member="Voroll Dey Astaar"]

 

[Kira Talith]

Sanctuary
Rebels

~~~~~} * { ~~~~~

@Preliat Mantis @Gilamar Skirata @Kira Liadain @Vulpesen @Strider Garon @TiCira D'Arr Hawk @Mia Monroe @Verz Horak @Mandalore the Insurgent @Kira Liadain @Zius Aurus


Someone calling himself Zius's with enough sarcasm laced in his voice managed to get a few glowers from the veterans, along with the hum of powercells charging as they were pointed to his direction.

Needless to say, they weren't kidding when it came to battling these "Kursed."

Kira's hands went up, as if trying to calm them down. "Alright... alright... we can see sarcasm guy isn't Kursed," she made her way slowly over, palms up as if to placate the armed resistance members.

She ended up standing in front of Zius' , as a meatshield one would say. Probably not the smartest idea. What she said next under her breath likely wasn't either, as it was directed to the one she was trying to protect.

"Smile! You're on candid holo-camera!" ahh ever the joker, even at the end of times.

 

[Ordo]

@[member="Preliat Mantis"] @[member="Gilamar Skirata"] @[member="Kira Liadain"] @[member="Vulpesen"] @[member="Strider Garon"] @[member="TiCira D'Arr Hawk"] @[member="Mia Monroe"] @[member="Verz Horak"] @[member="Mandalore the Insurgent"] @[member="Kira Liadain"] @[member="Zius Aurus"]

Talking was a waste of precious time. So Orso did what he thought was best and started searching through the gear for stuff the kills other stuff.

He was actually looking for one thing in particular, The Ret'lini. It was a heavy rotating blaster cannon and he had hoped for his truck so he could grab his own. However, it had not worked out. He wasn't a planner but he could take a beating like no other and they would need a distraction and maybe he could open up a little hell on what ever had let out that roar.

"Oya!" He said to get their attention. "The Ret'lini do you have one?"

 

[Revenchent]

Rebels--Galaar's bathhouse on the surface


Up! Up! Up damnit!


Calico's limbs were taking a break, it seemed his movements were sluggish and sloppy--not from wounds, but from exhaustion. It was an empty feeling that encompassed his entire body; the after effects of adrenaline. His visor was face down against concrete, and his breathing was slow, labored.


Bluejay had gone off and left him alone to his displeasure. He had hopes to tackle her when she approached and administer a surgical knockout in the way of a plated fist. Now, however, he was alone. His wounds were nothing serious--his shields even still worked. Yet, he simply didn't want to move. The monsters in the sky; the likelihood that he was going to die, Calico was no super human. He was frightened, terrified, and he could just lay there in his protective armor and let things sort themselves out.


But you have people out there. Galaar, Canal, Kira, maybe more. They're counting on you, get up!


Fear was natural. Pushing past that fear was courage. Calico wasn't courageous, but he had obligations, and he would fulfill them. The soldier forced himself to his feet, retrieved his DC-17, and checked the charge. There was nothing left.


With a groan, he slid the Deece into its holster and retrieved the twin DC-15 sidearms. There was only one way to go now, and that was toward Galaar. He turned down the dusty, war torn street and opened up his comms.


Need to get closer for a signal.


The echoing shrieks and roars of blasters and heavy ordnance was all background noise to Calico. Isley and Bluejay were out there; killing their own people. He would have to find a way to set them in the right mind. His boots thudded against the cracked concrete as he crossed down the alley he had awoken in.


There's a signal.


Galaar's status icon lit up within his HUD, along with the younger Canal. The former certainly didn't seem to be doing well.


Calico took off on a mad dash toward the source of the signal; worry for his brother replacing fear of the weapons fire that seemed much closer now, and the roars of monsters.


A scrap building seemed to be the source of the signal. No figures stood outside--perhaps the fighting had passed by. Calico holstered his weapons and sprinted like a mad man across the street. His chest rose and fell when he collided with the nearest wall--he hadn't seen a very visible door-- and tumbled through in a mess of dust and scrap.


Three figured registered in his vision. Canal, Galaar, looking very unhealthy, and another he didn't recognize. That latter would be dealt with later.


"What in Corellia's Nine Hells did you do to yourself Galaar?" He demanded, forcing the junior commando back onto his shebs. Calico didn't waste a moment. "Canal, check you Tac-Pac. There should be some gauze and a drainage tube, I need to make sure he isn't bleeding into the lungs." His tone was commanding as ever; though it was missing the calm that had been replace with urgency.


You-" He pointed toward Voroll. "-make sure the building is secure son. I'm Calico, Galaar's CO."


His mind was in a thousand places at once. His medical training was extensive, but he was no professional. For once, he really wished Doc was there. The Commander switched to the CIS emergency frequency and transmitted as he inspected Galaar's wound.

"Brevity Code Leroy Jenkins- The guard had demanded that be the standard code- -"This is Grand Marshal Calico Two Four Seven. Templars, droids, I do not give a kriff. RV at my coordinates, the AO is cold. All CIS forces, recall to my position. We need to get organized here! Transport all wounded, there's room."


The string of orders left Calico out of breath; and the others in the room were likely wondering why in the world he had crashed through the wall. To put it simply, he was worried. That string of thought led him to do one more thing.


"Jedi- He switched to the comm signal attached to the unit @[member="Vulpesen"] had given him. "It's the clone. Call me Calico. I'm gathering my people in a warehouse right outside the tunnels, we'll keep it reinforced." He paused as he though of the right words. "Give me a SitRep. What's the situation down there? Who are we fighting exactly?"


Calico didn't know if this signal was Vulpesen's, or connected to the entire Republic operation board. Either way, worry was nagging at his gut. For Galaar, his soldiers, and a comical Jedi woman whom he would very much like to see alive.


"Kira, is Kira alright? Is she safe?"


@[member="Marek Starchaser"]
@[member="Phoebe Verd"]
@[member="CC-117 Canal"]
@[member="Galaar CC-252"]
@[member="Kira Liadain"]
@[member="Voroll Dey Astaar"]
@[member="Keter"]
@[member="Zius Aurus"]

@AlldemCisThugz


((I wrote this on le phone. If I forgot you, it's because I didn't know how to spell your name. So sorry!!!))

 

[Nyos Val]

REBELS:In the City

Nyos was running in the streets, a horde of whacked out locals chasing him, blasters and all. He lost track of the others and decided to make his way to a large building in the center of town. Mando Towers, if he remembered from his last visit here. He rounded a corner to see a mob of local Mandalorians huddled together. A few noticed him, cried out at his direction, they turned and ran at him, a few had blasters and the rest just ran. Now with two masses running at him, Nyos had more of a reason to run, but instead, at a fork in the road, he jumped at the wall ahead of him, flexed his metal legs and launched back into the mass with all his might. He knocked a large portion of the horde down. Giving himself time to make it inside, or so he hoped. Inside were more of them. Their eyes red for blood, and jaws foaming with rage. Nyos took a step back, and jumped as high as he could. He used his saber to stick to the wall, he climbed as high as he could, which was the top. He looked out over the city, parts were burning, others now already smoldering. Nyos used this as a chance to catch his breath and asses what the heck was going on. Down below the entire planet had gone postal. People who were once proud warriors had now turned to savages. Soldiers he knew from all faction seemed to be here, and some were fighting together and others fought each other. Nyos chirped out over the local comm station, having hacked into the towers relay.

Any friendlies out there, I am at the Mando Defense Tower in the center of town. I am in search of answers and solutions. If any of you wish to aid me in the Redemption of Mandalor, meet me here ASAP. I am going to clear out the tower, make it a Haven for Allies. An HQ to start from. I welcome all friends. Look for the biggest tower in the city, and a cyborg wielding a great vibrosabre. I stand out pretty well. Cyborg Out!

Nyos located the hatch to the top floor, walked down the stairs, took a deep breath and began the horrible task of slaying everyone inside the tower. He had once protected this planet, now he had to destroy some to save it. He shed a single tear as he killed wave after wave of corrupt Mandos.
@[member="Preliat Mantis"] @[member="Gilamar Skirata"] @[member="Kira Liadain"] @[member="Vulpesen"] @[member="Strider Garon"] @[member="TiCira D'Arr Hawk"] @[member="Mia Monroe"] @[member="Verz Horak"] @[member="Mandalore the Insurgent"] @[member="Kira Liadain"] @[member="Zius Aurus"]

 

[Djorn Bline]

Rebels, with Galaar, Calico, and Voroll

Good, Calico is with them. Now the whole team is back together. Well not the whole team but Galaar, Calico, and Canal. Canal was no medic and he hoped that Calico or the other guy had some knowledge of medical assistance. That reminded Canal back on Kamino when all clones had to do medicical class, mandatory. He still remember saying, "What the kark?!!! Who put me in this crap?" He remembers that he did horrible in that class and sometimes cheated so he can pass the class. At the end he passed with C. At least he could study and focus more in hand to hand combat and using guns, knives, and other weapons.

Canal took out a gauge and a drainage tube and handed it to Calico. Dang Doc, where are you when we need you the most. He could tell that Calico was exhausted after dealing with Bluejay. "Sir, with all due respect, I could've taken on Jay. She would easily be beaten if she and I fighted. Besides, the more pain I feel the more angry and I become and that anger then converts itself into strength." Canal said to Calico.

@[member="Commander Calico CC-247"] @[member="Galaar CC-252"] @[member="Voroll Dey Astaar"]