Black Eyes

[Ara Zambrano]

Location: Kal'Shebbol, Outer Rim


Where exactly was she?

The Ren glanced around, eyes flashing in the varied levels of shadow and light cast off the streets of…well, Ara wasn’t quite sure exactly where she was. It had been surprisingly easy to slip away from the room that doubled as a holding cell, the door left unlocked, the guards outside merely watching her exit with wary eyes and stern expressions. One corner of her mouth quirked up in a sly smile as she turned another corner, the dust kicked up beneath her feet reminding her of the difference between the clean, well-ordered streets of First Order Space and the Outer Rim world she now found herself.

The quarters she’d been given were far nicer than she expected of someone who was a glorified prisoner of war, but then again, [member="Bryce Bantam"] hadn’t saved her life to lock her in a cell and throw away the key. His behavior was intriguing and eccentric to say the least; the dress, shoes, jewelry, and return of her saber a strange accumulation of gifts for someone who, at one time, was an enemy greeted on the opposite side of the battle field at saber point. His intentions were still a mystery, the food, plush room, and clothing provided furthering the confusion within her mind as she struggled to understand why he’d gone through the trouble to save her and provide her with the necessities of comfort.

And so, the Knight found herself wandering the streets of whatever floating rock he’d deposited them, the skin-tight red dress traded for a simple shirt, pants, boots, and jacket, in varying shades of brown, tan, and white. Not her usual choice of outfits, but far less ostentatious and comfortable for an exploration and possible escape attempt. If her benefactor was to be believed, the Order were on their way to recover the rogue knight, but she preferred to work under the assumption that the Ren knew nothing of her survival and subsequent status as charge or prisoner, making her first priority to find a way back to her people.

Another turn deeper into the maze of streets, a tug on her awareness giving her pause, the sounds of a scuffle floating causing her eyebrows to raise as she quickly reversed her path, blood humming with the rush of adrenaline the promise of a good fight brought with it.

Since waking, miraculously alive, in the bacta tank aboard Zero, she’d had little chance to stretch muscles that begged to be used after too long in stasis. Her steps quickened as the sounds grew louder, the auras in her mind growing distinguished, a handful of people gathered one street over. Her hand slipped to the cool metal of her saber, deft fingers unclipping the blade from her belt and holding the weapon parallel to her thigh as she turned the final corner, a scrappy, one-sided bar brawl coming into view.

Green eyes ringed in amber took the scene in, quickly counting and assessing the men gathered before her. Two strong auras registered in her mind’s eye, Force users mixed among the Non-sensitives, most likely the two gentlemen hanging back from the thick of the action, watching the figure curled up on the ground attempt to fend off the kicks and punches sent his way. So far, weapons had stay miraculously holstered, the bloodshed staying localized to hands and fists as she watched a flurry of attacks land on soft flesh, head tilting in sympathy at the beating he was taking.

For a moment, she considered moving away from the action and ignoring something that was neither her business, nor her concern, even as her heart race, pulse pounding at the promise of a fight. A sheen of red rolled over her eyes as she watched, one foot step bringing her closer to the melee, gravel crunching under her feet and alerting them to her presence even before she spoke out.

”Five against one seems a bit unfair, does it not?”

Another tilt of the head sent her hair tumbling over one shoulder, mouth quirking up in a cheeky grin and she leaned against the alleyway, attempting to hide the sudden rush of fear within with a relaxed stance and easy expression. The last time the knight had engaged in a fight without the strength of the Force behind her, she’d been skewered by an ally in the heat of battle. An unfortunate turn of events that led her to her current predicament. Instead, she pushed the emotion back, raising the hilt of her blade to tap against the wall beside her.

”Care to tussle with someone a little more….” She eyed the man on the ground with a grimace, ”Lively? I could use the practice, bacta does very little for one’s stamina in my experience.”

Raising an eyebrow, she silently invited the men to share in her private joke, once again questioning her habit of starting fights in the middle of unknown territory. With a sigh, she activated her blade, crimson plasma casting an eerie glow over the girl and her immediate surroundings. How would the masked man respond the bloodshed she was likely to cause on his home turf? Ara was probably going to find out.

[member="Walker Ducarte"]

 

[Delaney Wilder]

Pain.

Anger.

Fear?

Indignation.

All of those were emotions currently experienced. Some more than others, but once the hits stopped landing Walk coughed - no blood, that was good, before trying to sneak a look to figure out what was happening. Lady (cute one too) interrupting the beat-down. You might be wondering why Walker was being beat up in an alleyway on Kal'Shebbol and it was a fair wonder. See, himself and [member="Delilah Keyes"] had pissed off the wrong types of crowds a few months back. For the most part they had managed to stay one step ahead of 'em.

Today hadn't been Walk's lucky day.

See, Bantha and Nuna were working together now.

That was the running opinion anyway. He recognized several of 'em, the ones doing the beating, the mixed membership immediately tipped him off.

"Lady, this ain't your-" Walk coughed and almost immediately after that Ara ignited her lightsaber. The smuggler rolled, pressing himself closer to the wall, while his assailants were busy sizing up the situation. That immediately shifted towards the two gentlebeings at the back igniting their own karking lightsabers, since when did Nuna have Dark Jedi employed?

Feth.

"A mistake." The Rodian Dark Jedi mumbled, while the Umbaran next to him simply nodded and waited for Ara's next move.

[member="Ara Ren"]​

 

[Ara Zambrano]

The alleyway lit with twin yellow flames, sabers igniting as all attention turned away from the man huddled on the ground to the woman who’d waded into the fray for entertainment. A soft smile curled up the corners of her lips as she swung her blade in an easy circle, eyes snapping between the Rodian and Umbaran with interest, taking in every minute detail she could.

”I agree, you should have walked away. Although, I prefer this option, myself.”

Ignoring the man’s comment before he succumbed to another round of harried coughing, she stepped away from the wall, centering herself in the alleyway, blade coming to a rest in a cross guarded position across her torso. Her eyes flashed once in anticipation, waiting as the group before her reassembled themselves, the two Dark Jedi moving to the front of the small gathering.

Bowing ever so slightly from the waist, she let her gaze fall to the ground for an instant, hoping her assessment of the Rodian was true. His fingers danced ever so slightly on his hilt, giving away his impatience as much as his sneer gave away his prejudice. One of those who felt women were better served away from the heat of battle, Ara would have bet money that he’d be the aggressor of the pair, and the sound of shuffling footsteps did not disappoint.

A calculated motion meant to draw them in, the Knight shifted to the side, blade flashing out and up as the creature flew past her, arrogance blinding him to the speed with which she could move.

Grinning in pride as she watched him stumble past from the corner of her eye, only the pressure on her mind and muscles well-trained to react to the Force within brought her blade back up in time to crash against the second amber saber, the strike aimed for the crux of her elbow.

Green eyes met silver as the Umbaran took advantage of her own distraction to attempt to disarm her, blades sparking as they met.

A narrowing of her multi-colored gaze accompanied renewed determination, the pair disengaging and turning for another exchange of blows.

Two against one….maybe this had been a gloriously bad decision.

[member="Walker Ducarte"]

 

[Delaney Wilder]

It was.

A mistake that is and one that Walk had tried to warn her against. Right now the smuggler was pushing himself up, leaning against the wall and watching the fight with a pained grimace. Nothing seemed to be broken, but his ribs were bruised, nose bleeding and a cut on his brow kept seeping the liquid into his left eye. It was difficult to see - courtesy of them moving so fast as well - but what Walk did saw didn't inspire him with much hope.

She was hopelessly outclassed, even Walk could see it.

Once the two Darksiders realized they weren't simply dealing with a stolen lightsaber attached to a young girl? They got smart about their approach, they leveled out, retreated and circled her. Forcing her to pay attention to her front and back at the same time, whilst both of them twitched their limbs ever so slightly.

Over and over again.

Testing her, her reactions and reflexes, putting her on edge and fraying her instincts. The Umbaran's stone visage didn't show anything once he parried one of her 45-degree slashes again, but then the Rodian kicked her in the knee and pulled back, before she could riposte.

Prompting the Umbaran to attack again.

So it went, over and over again. The duo were trained specifically to operate in this fashion. Bringing down even superior fighters simply through teamwork and coordination.

Some of the pain had numbed itself - nerves overworked rather than healing as far as Walk knew - and the cut stopped bleeding.

He rubbed the clotted-up blood away from his eye and tried to find a way, any way to get out of here alive. Then Walk noticed the flash 'nade on the belt of one of the thugs. All of them were very occupied with the lightsaber duel in front of them... after all, when did you ever get to see it up-close?

Casually, carefully, Walk inched closer to the thug.

Praying to the Hyperlanes that they wouldn't notice, until he could do something.

[member="Ara Ren"]

 

[Ara Zambrano]

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sFvENQBc-F8[/youtube]​

The jarring kick to her knee sent her sprawling, side slamming into the Duracrete as she rolled, a wealth of new bruises flaring to life along her ribs. A shallow gash opened across her arm as she failed to dodge another quick slice of gold or amber, flashes of light blurring together as the battle progressed.

Regaining her feet, she spun, blade arcing in front of her, the scent of burning fabric twisting her serious expression into a momentary grin, even as the Rodian avoided serious injury. A tug on her awareness split her attention to the back, the Umbaran’s blade flashing out and up, only a quick side step saving her arm from being served at the shoulder.

A silent curse crossed her mind as the dance continued, the Knight on the constant defensive, arms, legs, and sides burning from a myriad of burns, bruises, and bumps. The various kicks, slices, and jabs were having their desired effects, each block slower, each dodge a little less effective.

Sweat rolled down her forehead, eyes blinking the stinging liquid away even as another strike found its mark against her thigh, a hissing gasp pulled from her throat at the sudden fire spreading through the muscle.

Stumbling forward, Ara spun again, her back to the mouth of the alley, the two Dark Jedi encroaching again.

The rest of the gathering seemed enraptured by the fight, content to watch with leers plastered to their faces as the girl sparred against the two, hopelessly outmatched.

Maybe with her full strength and abilities she’d fare better.

But at this point in their juncture? She was losing. Horribly.

A slight movement on her peripheral drew her attention to the bloodied man she’d deflected the beating away from. One corner of her mouth twitched incredulously at her own recklessness. Each wound was one meant for him, only her poor decision making had made them become hers. Returning her thoughts to the matter at hand, her eyes narrowed as she realized he alone was not watching the fight. Instead, his gaze was locked on the lower torso of one of the thugs, her own eyes following to light on a belt loaded with various weapons.

The Ren didn’t see which weapon had captured his attention, but she had faith that he wanted out of here in one piece as badly as she did.

At this rate neither of them would get their wish.

A distraction. That’s what he needed. Whatever he was planning to do would only work if the group continued to focus on her and the very one-sided spar. With a rueful smile, she spun her blade in a circle in front of her, eyes moving away from the unknown thug to the Umbaran with a wicked glimmer.

”Now gentlemen, save something for the second date, hmmm?”

A dark laugh accompanied the tease, one eyebrow winging up flirtatiously even as they continued to advance unfazed. Sighing dramatically, Ara rolled her shoulders back, stiff muscles protesting as she readied for another volley of strikes and parries.

”Hasn’t anyone taught you gentlemen the importance of good conversation when getting to know someone?”

Twin arcing blows, one towards her ankles, the other aimed at her neck, was the silent answer. Cursing, she danced back, the lower blade leaving a blacked trail against the leather of her boot, the thick fabric protecting her ankle from the plasma for the time being. A smug smile crossed her face before being replaced by feigned concern as the second blade met part of its target.

Fabric tore, shredded and burned on the edges as the second saber cut a path from collarbone to navel, slicing easily through the thin fabric that covered her torso.

[member="Walker Ducarte"]

 

[Delaney Wilder]

[member="Ara Ren"]

Walk wasn't paying attention to the fight anymore.

Too painful to watch really. It only served to remind him what was going to happen to him, if he didn't get both of them out of this crappy situation. Why did it have to be lightsabers? Dark.... Jedi? He doubted regular Jedi would be working for karking Nuna and Bantha, but maybe some kind of outcasts from the Order.

Feckers were persistent.

Then suddenly all their attention shifted completely to the duel between the out-of-nowhere girl and their leaders. Walker didn't try to look, instead he lunged, hands grabbing the two flashbangs and managing to yank out a blaster out of a holster, before kicking the theft victim into the crowd.

Before any of them could react, the pin of the flashbang was already out and dropped.

Walk didn't wait to see what happened.

Instead a blaster shot took one of the dark Jedi in the knee, the smuggler ran, while pulling Ara with him. (soft pull though, if she wanted to stay behind that was entirely her choice). Behind them the flashbang went off with a loud bang, lights burning into anyone who had been looking, which luckily wasn't Walk.

Who was still running.

 

[Ara Zambrano]

She wasn’t sure what he’d grabbed and pulled the pin on, but when fingers wrapped around her wrist and pulled, she didn’t stick around to find out.

The sound of shouts and curses filled the alley behind them as the flashbang went off, the bright light at the edges of her vision sending spots dancing across her eyes. Luckily his hand continued tugging her on, out of the fray and into the busier streets of the Outer Rim world.

Somewhere down the line, the knight managed to get her feet under her and ran with him, rather than allowing herself to continue being dragged. The myriad of cuts and bruises stung from the dirt kicked up while they navigated the twisting turns until both were out of breath.

Muscle memory only went so far when one had spent a week floating in a bacta tank and the few days after locked in a room in the medical ward eating…well, the food wasn’t anything to write home about, that was for sure. Soon her wounds burned from the salt of sweat and her legs threatened to give out beneath her.

Pulling her arm form his grip, she slowed, a sweep of both the Force and her natural eyesight insuring they were safe enough for a few deep breaths. A round of coughing hunched her over, both palms against the wall keeping her from collapsing as her lungs wheezed for air, her torn shirt falling open yet again.

”I need a drink.”

[member="Walker Ducarte"]