LOCATION: Entering Pipeworld
OBJECTIVE: Find the Resistance
NOTE: This post Kadala's time during the first two acts as well as introduces her into the third.
She didn't know how long she had already been there for. All she knew was that first arriving there, in this strange, too-clean place, had been more chaotic than anything she had ever experienced before. The initial shock had been dulled by the soreness she had felt upon awakening. It had been an odd ache, both mental and physical, that she had originally assumed was because of a hangover (despite the fact that she did not remember drinking). But one look out the room's oddly clean window had revealed a far more horrid truth, though one that had taken her a moment to fully understand. Outside in the streets there had been a riot unlike anything the Mandalorian had seen in years. Instinct had made her scramble for the rest of her gear, only to realize that she had no idea where she was, or where any of her stuff was.
That was almost more troubling than the sound of a familiar voice outside. Almost. Perhaps it would have been, if the voice hadn't belonged to her. What the bloody hell? She had thought, knowing quite well that she wasn't yelling in the streets. But if it wasn't her, than who was screaming in a voice just like her own?... Feth, maybe I have been drinking, she had thought again, raising one hand to her helmet in frustration. A look of confusion had crossed her face as she wondered why she was still wearing her armor. Had she slept in it for some reason?... It had all seemed like the kind of mess that alcohol could bring about. For a moment she had been content with that idea- she was drunk, that was all. Maybe she had gone out with Drosk and gotten a little too tipsy? I'd trust him to carry me home, she had told herself, figuring that her friend had carried her back to a hotel. In the end, it was the heads-up display in her helm that made her abandon that thought.
A small square in the corner had given her her current medical stats. Her blood alcohol level? Zero point zero. That little bit of information was enough to make her cast aside her previous hypothesis. With the most obvious explanation out of the way, she was left to wonder... Once again her wondering was interrupted, this time by a figure crashing through the room's window. The following moments were blurry, rushed, but Kadala Skirata's memory was impeccable. She saw another version of herself, bloody and beaten, crouched low on the floor, a knife sticking out of her armor. For a split second they made eye contact, surprise registering on both of their faces. But then the carbon copy lept back out of the window and into the fray. There was an empty space where she had crouched, a void that the woman couldn't help but stare at. What the bloody hell just happened? She asked herself, unaware that her copy was thinking the same thing. It was a mix of confusion and curiosity that made her follow the figure.
There was no jumppack on her armor, but still she had made do, leaping out of the window without hesitation. Despite being several stories up, she had managed to make a clean landing. All thanks to the force, she had thought, only grunting slightly when her feet impacted with the ground. One hand had instinctively gone to her belt, looking for her lightsaber, while the other had moved to the holster on her thigh. To her surprise she had still had some of her gear. A single orange blade and two simple pistols. Not much compared to her usual arsenal, but the extras on her armor proved to be enough to get her through the riot. Kadala had ignored all sense of reason. Instead she had marched through the crowd, trying to find herself, searching for the woman that had been thrown through her window. In the end it did not take long for her to do so. Only a few moments after landing she had seen a figure be thrown into the air, rising above the crowd.
It was, once more, her.
Once again Kadala had felt a sort of rush, and she had pushed further into the crowd, heading towards where her copy had been likely to land. Things had only gotten more complicated when it became clear her copy was wearing a jet pack. But she hadn't given up, instead using the force to jump above the crowd. Just a few leaps led her to the edge of another building, a miniature ledge she could rest her feet upon while she scoured the area in front of her. Finding her 'twin' (and keeping her gaze on the woman) became far easier once she was higher up. That, however, proved to do her more harm than good. Seeing this version of herself- this far more experienced, powerhouse of a woman- was wondrous. But she had been fighting far more than any one person should be capable of taking on by themselves. And even as the rioting had come to a dangerous climax, the carbon copy seemed overwhelmed. As concerned as Kadala (the true one) had been, she hadn't been able to bring herself to intervene. The magic of the moment was too much.
"You can't stop this! The revolution is here, you idiots! Killing me will do nothing!" The copy had yelled out, even as people had moved to pull her down. Some sort of droid had started firing at her as she spoke, its lasers pounding into her armor's shield, wearing it down slowly. In the end it had been a strange man who had gotten the best of her. He had taken advantage of the robot's distraction, taking a single moment to slam a knife into her stomach, twisting it as he did. Whatever the blade was made of had been more than enough to slip past her war-torn gear. Apparently her shield had been for energy weapons only... "You... you can't kill an idea!" As those last words had slipped out of not-Kadala's mouth, a droid had shot at her, a bolt slamming into her skull. Across the way the true Skirata- the one born in Chaos- had felt part of herself collapse. Did I just... die? She had thought, mind racing.
There hadn't been much time to think about what had happened before she was spotted.
She didn't know how long she had already been there for. All she knew was that she had watched herself die, and now a strange messenger was telling her to help it. What was she supposed to do? Charge blindly into the sewers, chase after some vague history, and potentially die to save people she didn't know?... No. That didn't seem like a reasonable or logical thing to do in the slightest. Kadala Skirata, however, was still making her way towards the sewers, keeping an eye out for drones as she did. Why? Because she was a Mandalorian, for heaven's sake! There was honor to be found here! Fights to be fought, worthy foes to be slain, blood to be spilt upon the stone! No matter how crazy this all seemed, the only coping method she had ever used was that of combat. If the voice behind her datapad wanted her to cut down Peacekeepers, than she'd cut down hundreds of them.
However many it took.
Numbers didn't matter to her. Not then, as she slid into the first pipe, an anger filling her. Somehow she'd make her way to 'Pipe Orenth Seven'. Then she'd tear into whatever foes made themselves known, regardless of the dangers they posed. It was all she knew how to do, right?... I'm going to wreck so many things, she thought, a small scowl forming on her lips. 'Twas that thought that kept her going as she made her way further into the pipes, still a ways away from the other rebellious folks...
