Into the Galaxy

[Cen Tessek]

[member="Usa'ar Obath"]

Cen approached the vertically decapitated commander's corpse, laying in a crumpled nest just short of the blast site. He reached down, snapping off his wrist-mounted comm-link and tossing it to their prisoner. "Use that, tell them you have the situation handled. If they ask why you're speaking, rather than your commander, tell them he tasked you with communications, that he's subduing us," he replied. This only earned a solid retort from the trooper, "I won't cooperate." Cen ignited his lightsabre, flaunting the blade with a wide swing overhead and halted the blade in preparation in an executing slash. "If you won't assist us I guess I won't need your help then," he calmly state, his back stiffening and his grip tightening as he prepared to behead the soldier, who only cried out. "Please!" he cried, clasping both hands in a begging gesture. "Just give me a moment, please."

Cen retracted his lightsabre to the hilt, lowering his arms and waited patiently. The transmitter activated and a static-filled voice radiated forth. "Report! What is the situation? Why haven't you responded?" There was a heavy pause, a slight hesitation that seemed to linger on for several moments before he responded, and Cen became alert, launching forward. But he was too late to stop the trooper, who called out into the comm, "We've been taken out, send rein-" There was a loud, very audible hiss as the blade quickly cut through his neck, his head loped off in a cloud of ash, smoke, and sparks. The comm-link was immediately deactivated upon the deceased fingers relieving pressure upon the button, but the command had immediately gotten the message. "Usa!" Cen called out, beginning to sprint to the ARC. "We got company in a few minutes!"

 

[StonewallJack]

Usa'ar's head perked up at Cen's shouts. "Hold on, I jus have a little bit more to go! Some of the electronics on the ship were being very stubborn to Usa'ar's tools and his determination. "Just - a - little - bit - more! Got it," he sighed triumphantly. "Ok, Cen, she's good to go."

Cen quickly filled him in with the mishap of the soldier's demise. They both took the small stockpile of weapons with them to the top of a trash heap with good solid durasteel skeletons they could utilize for cover. "Cen, do you have any idea what they'll be sending?" he asked while moving some rubble away to provide a firing perch.

 

[Cen Tessek]

[member="Usa'ar Obath"]

Sheathing his lightsabre to his belt with finality, Cen gripped a rifle tightly, clipping off the energy magazine to inspect the charges. "Well we killed an entire squad, they also know we have a lightsabre..." He inhaled strongly, gently resting the barrel of his gun atop the skeletal cover in practice for steady aim before he added, "They'll send troopers, anti-air, anti-armor if we're lucky, and undoubtedly actual Sith Knights or Assassins; they probably expect a jedi infiltration and will match that with their own." He shrugged nonchalantly in response to his own comment and leaned back into cover, hugging the rifle tightly to his chest. "Hopefully the strongest get caught in the blast, but I doubt it. We'll need a hell of a lot of luck to take down a Knight face to face, trust me on that, I was trained by one."

His mind raced back to the muun on Fondor, who repeatedly floored him in a merciless assault. He shook it off the best he could. He was trained, he knew how to take me out, he was convicted of murder, likely several counts, thought Cen. He needed to convince himself he could handle it but nervousness threatened to take over. Then his hand brushed his lightsabre; confidence flowing through him and warming his heart, regardless of how vile his intentions were. He opened his eyes and barked at Usa, "Tell me what we got, everything. We must maximize the use of all of our equipment if we're surviving this!"

 

[Usa'ar Obath]

A chill went down Usa'ar's spine as Cen mentioned actual Sith knighhts and assassins. The recent skirmish proved to be pretty tough, but that was just fodder compared to this. To get his mind off of it, Usa'ar listed what they had gathered.

"We've got 4 long rifles, 3 little stubby ones, a couple pistols and one rocket launcher. Don't know why they didn't use that. Sniper and shotgun attachments for the short rifles. I found some thermal detonators in one guy's pack. Macrobinoculars, ah, a couple of EMP grenades - didn't see those. All in all, pretty light stuff. Not much anti-vehicle." Usa'ar would have very much preferred to have 10 rocket launchers to deal with Sith knights, but they had to work with what they got.

 

[Cen Tessek]

[member="Usa'ar Obath"]

"Perfect," Cen replied, who then stood up from the scrap cover and motioned to the distant mounds of crap with the swing of a rifle. "I want you to take two long rifles, two 'stubby' rifles, a pistol, and the rocket launcher over there where you'll lay in wait. Don't make any moves until the ARC detonates." He lowered the rifle onto an outcrop of twisted steel, the coiled metal propping the weapon up so that he could free his hands to gesture. He pointed to the ARC and remarked, "That may take out the Sith, only if they're close. Due to our headless friend over there the preciously delicate timing may be off, so if you see them approach, detonate it with a well aimed sniper shot to the fuel tank, located to the rear of the navigator's cockpit."

He stepped back, as if observing some holographic rendition of his future plan. He nodded his head with satisfaction and picked up the rocket launcher. It was large and unwieldy, it swung and swayed as he desperately attempted to aim down the holographic sight positioned along the side of its bulk. "You got one shot to annihilate that ARC, otherwise the plan is a bust and we'll need to run for it. Assuming you succeed, we'll take out the majority of the troops. Take out any leaders you see that aren't actual Sith, otherwise they'll reorganize the remaining soldiers and launch a counterattack. If you kill them, they'll fall into disarray, leaving them open to snipers. Leave the lightsabre-toters to me; if they get close to you, you can't defend yourself."

 

[Usa'ar Obath]

Usa'ar felt a tinge of excitement with it all coming together. He gathered up the designated weapons in his pack and his arms and carefully trudged down the hill of rubble, taking his steps with caution to avoid a fall and an injury. Climbing up to the next trash heap, he began to sift through it, forming better cover and set down the rifles.

"Two misfits against the Sith," he said to himself with a trace of humor. "They don't stand a chance."

He waved over to Cen to signal he was ready to go. Scanning with the macrobinocs across the skyscraper-laden horizon, Usa'ar picked up 3 military vessels headed their way: 2 small interceptors and a troop transport, undoubetdly carrying at least one Sith Knight. This was it.

[member="Cen Tessek"]

 

[Cen Tessek]

[member="Usa'ar Obath"]

Cen watched the troop transport slowly grow from a small speck of shadow into the looming harbinger of death it truly was in the blink of an eye. They were moving in fast, blowing through the lanes of hovercraft desperately swerving to avoid the stampeding flight of the Sith starcraft. The two interceptors swerved out and shot ahead, flying so low over the scrapyard that it blew a hurricane of hot air over the pair lying in wait for the troop transport. The interceptors blew through the sound barrier and in mere seconds crossed over the junkyard before looping around for another burst. Scrap was uplifted and hurled after them as the air sucked back in to fill the void left in their wake, blasting the landscape with a sonic boom that drowned out the monotone beeps of traffic.

The troop transport landed just north of the ARC, armored soldiers piling out from the ship onto the ground and swarming the trash grove. The interceptors blasted overhead again, filling the air with heated dust devils of trash and dirt. "Move out," shouted a very gruff voice among the horde of troopers, who immediately dispersed among the scorched field, littered with trash, bodies, and ash. One particularly noticeable soldier supported the rear of the troop, barking orders at the rest and scattering with the chopping hand motions of a commander. At his side was very mysterious figure, tall and gaunt with a form completely concealed by flowing black robes, his dark eyes the only hint of flesh behind the shadowy cloak as they glinted in the dim pale lamplight. He stood back, watching as the soldiers converged on the ARC, two sweeping under the craft and five climbing up on top to inspect the cockpits themselves. Cen paused, leaning out from his cover with rifle ready, then a sudden realization hit him: Where the hell is the astromech droid?

 

[Usa'ar Obath]

Usa'ar lined up the sniper rifle on the ARC fuel tank, then on the commander on the rear with the hooded figure. The fuel tank first or the commander? he thought. If he went for the ARC first, the commander would find better cover, and that Sith Knight behind him would most likely knew Usa'ar's location. If he shot the commander first, close troops might get clear of the ARC to fire at him. Either way, though, he hoped Cen could take out that Sith Knight.

Usa'ar took in a breath and held it. He decided to take out the commander. He was most likely more deadly than at least three of the grunts. The crosshairs were perfectly lined up on the commander's helmet. Time seemed to slow down. He squeezed the trigger and a lethal bolt of energy sailed into the officer's face, flipping him backwards on the ground.

The hooded Sith immediately jumped back and ignited a red blade.

The troops on the ARC turned to look at the laser's origin at the same time, beginning to aim their weapons.

Usa'ar's astromech ejected out the ARC, flying about 15 feet in the air, throwing smoke and flames from its jets, distracting the troopers with the surprise.

The fuel tank was wide open. Usa'ar took the shot.

 

[Cen Tessek]

[member="Usa'ar Obath"]

As the gunfight began to ensue, Cen lazily crept behind an abandoned fridge and got to cleaning the rifle. He was patiently preparing to handle the Sith while his fingers grazed across the long black barrel of his blaster and traced along the power switch and flipped it to full lethality. The explosion than rang out, a wave of heat and light swooshing overhead and brightening up the sky briefly before being swallowed back into the darkness. Cen rose his head, peaking out from behind the decrepit freezer and watching the remnants of trash rain down from the sky, alight with flame and cinders. It's pretty, Cen thought dreamily, his head tilted like a daydreaming schoolboy during his vigorous lectures. He was snapped back to reality however, largely by the boom of the interceptors closing in once more.

The twin starfighters closed in on the scrapyard, responding to the sight of explosions with near instantaneous reaction. They opened fire among the hills of trash, detonating long dead machinery into a carpet bombing of bright, spark-ridden detonations that deafened the ear and blinded the eye. Meanwhile the troops that were relatively intact, with their brethren reduced to puddles of meat with sludge consistency, had begun to open fire upon Usa's position. Cen propped up his rifle and cocked the ionizer, aiming to assist, but it became largely apparent the Sith had vanished. Cen, squinting with suspicion, assumed he must have been caught in the blast, and opened fire upon the first of the troopers who began to assault Usa's fortress of debris. He immediately shot down two, catching the rest by surprise and sending them scattering into cover like nocturnal insects exposed to the sun's piercing light. He smiled, his confidence swelling with his prowess, but then he experienced a sharp pain along the small of his back, and drowsily he fell into darkness.

 

[Usa'ar Obath]

This was by far the most intense firefight Usa'ar had ever been in. Streaks of deadly red light filled the air, sizzling right past him. He could only afford to pop out of cover for a couple seconds, rapidly trying to locate the nearest target and take it down before he could get shot. A few more soldiers fell to his rifle before a scorching blast hit the metal in front of him, throwing hot smoke in his vision, sending him scurrying back. Usa'ar set down the sniper and picked up what he called the "stubby" rifles. Suddenly, he heard the smacking of metal on metal, and turned to see a thrown thermal detonator bounce next to him, and then sift down into the mountain of rubble.

"Mer-" he started to swear, when it exploded underneath and sent him flying off the top of the trash fortress he was on. He lay sprawled on the ground. Tried to get up, but couldn't. His heart raced. Slowly, he raised himself off the charred ground while the interceptors took another pass, hitting the spot he was at just a minute ago.

His blaster was gone, but he still had his holstered pistol, along with another one he had picked off a dead soldier. He had no idea how Cen was doing. That's when he noticed he was bleeding. A rusty metal scarp had pierced his light armor, dripping blood on the ground. He hurried to a small hole of cover and tried to pull out the makeshift dagger and apply some bacta.

It was then that he first realized his life might end shortly. There were still a couple soldiers left as well as that Sith, possibly. But he wasn't ready to die yet. He wasn't ready. With a grimace, Usa'ar pulled himself up and prepared to finish the firefight.

 

[Cen Tessek]

[member="Usa'ar Obath"]

Usually when someone uses a tranquilizer, it would be to take out a target that could not be subdued with force. This droid, however, felt it simply a pacifist and humane way to avoid invading the private space of another while stealthily incapacitating them. From then private space would become a fictional sense of security, for it, in its eyes, was only a perception. What the person did not know did not hurt them. So as Cen was passed out over the skeletal frames that served as his cover, a long, pale dart protruding from the small of his back, the droid approached and began to search him. That is when he discovered the lightsabre and lurched back from the collapsed man with vigorous intent to further prevent disturbing what he thought was a Sith.

Yet the battle raged on beyond, explosions blossoming in the distant junkyard like a young rose in the eve of spring, bursting forth from the greenery in a bright flash of red and- He paused his fictional processes of nonexistent realities for he had become sidetracked once more. He had inadvertently knocked out a Sith Lord, it seemed, and he felt an analytical parallel to shame: Emotion T840. He reacted in accordance to his coding; he bowed his head and emitted weeping noises as he went about to correct his wrongdoing. He slid the unconscious chiss safely behind cover, clasping Cen's numb hands together peacefully over his chest. Proper posture when the meatbags hibernate induces an increased metabolism, thought the droid. His name was TP-10D, an IG-86 Sentinel Droid variation programmed to search for a particular object, but now he had a mission to correct his mistake.

He picked up the long-range artillery-class sniper weaponry dropped by aforementioned Sith Lord codenamed Blue. "Filthy meatbags, giving Sith Lord codenamed Blue, title given in folder-dash-T811100001359 also codenamed... Blue Folder," commented TP-10D, pausing at the coincidence. Is this what the meatbags call fate? he wondered, his thoughts drifting to a distant future in which fate was born into the physical realm where it may be perceived by droids. Would it look like look like him? What if it looked like... "Blue," muttered the droid, a static-y gasp escaping his vocoder as he came to the conclusion that Sith Lord codenamed Blue by folder-dash-T811100001359 also known as Blue Folder was in fact the Avatar of Fate.

As the sounds of raging battle echoed across the junkyard, one soon rose far among them, followed shortly by a flurry of shoots that ravaged the remainder of the Sith squadron, leaving only those who dove to cover alive, "YOU SHALL NOT HARM SITH LORD CODENAMED BLUE BY FOLDER-DASH-T811100001359 ALSO KNOWN AS BLUE FOLDER, AVATAR OF FATE, MEATBAGS!"

 

[Usa'ar Obath]

Usa'ar wasn't feeling his best. He fought down the urge to puke, and stumbled closer to the firefight. Just as it seemed to die down, he heard a great racket as once more the junkyard was filled with smoke and fire. From his cover, he saw a body tumble down just a few feet from where he crouched. A soldier, body armor smoking from an incredible amount of hits, had collapsed, arms outstretched, body half-burnt. Cen must really be tearing it up out there, he thought.

Peeking out from cover, Usa'ar popped off a couple of shots at a nearby trooper, facing Cen's position. The trooper crumpled and fell. That's when Usa'ar noticed the odd IG droid charging up the battlefield, shooting faster and more accurately than he had ever seen. Then it turned towards him, letting loose a couple shots. If Usa'ar had ducked any slower, his head would have been torn off by the powerful sniper weapon it carried.

Usa'ar stumbled around a trash heap, desperate to get away from the maniac droid. He tripped on a body and fell facefirst into the ground. Looking up, he saw boots standing a few yards away. Boots of a Sith Knight. The menacing dark warrior was there, lightsaber ignited and hood uncovered to reveal a pale, twisted face complete with an evil smirk. He practically radiated fear, and Usa'ar suddenly felt terrified. He stayed on the ground and slowly backed away, hands in the air.

 

[Cen Tessek]

[member="Usa'ar Obath"]

TP-10D had torn through the battleground and was making his way to Usa. "Meatbag," he called out through the floating clouds of dirt and grime that coated the explosive-torn battlefield. "I promised I will only discombobulate your processes so that when you are dissected by my meat-thrashers you will be too busy fixating your brain upon the processes in which light is produced." He rose his sniper, closing in on the pilot, but is quickly launched back by some unseen force, his metal body propelled across the battleground and sent crashing into a mountain of scrap. The force of his flight caused his body to penetrate the wall of refuse, causing an avalanche of junk to wash over his body and bury him beneath.

The Sith lowered his hand with his fingers curled into a fist. His display of the Force was powerful, emanating that same malevolent presence that wafted from his black form and the crimson edge of his lightsabre. He eyed the pilot, making no particular move to go in for the kill. He simply walked towards him in a nonchalant waltz displaying an air of carefree behavior. His blade casually swung at his side, occasionally biting through a scrap of trash that crept forth from the ground, chopping through with a hot sizzle and leaving behind a wound of melted metal or flame. "You have caused a lot of trouble, little one," he said in a deep, booming voice that seemed to suck away at the air. His mouth was like a black hole in that regard in addition to appearance, his pale lips parting to a dark void that swallowed the light. It never move while he spoke, only adding to the air of horror when looked upon.

 

[Usa'ar Obath]

Usa'ar couldn't respond for a moment. He was breathing heavy in his helmet. "Look..." he managed to croak. "We might have gotten off on the wrong foot here, but it kinda escalated quickly." He hoped he could just stall until that crazy droid came over here. But he hadn't heard it yelling anymore. And where the heck was Cen?

The Sith chuckled and took a few steps closer. "It is over for you, little one," he menacingly growled. "No amount of blabbering can changed that."
He smiled and dragged his lightsaber as he walked, kicking up sparks. Suddenly he paused. He stared intently at Usa'ar. "There is a force user here, a Jedi or rogue Sith perhaps? I can feel his presence." Suddenly Usa'ar was lifted off the ground and felt a light pressure on his throat. "Now do tell me - where is he?" The invisible grip tightened slightly. Usa'ar gasped and choked, struggling for breath.

"He's twice... ack... as powerful... as you!" Usa'ar managed to defiantly croak.

"Enough of this!" the Sith shouted as he tossed Usa'ar into a ruined vehicle. Usa'ar didn't move.

"Now," the Sith muttered to himself. "Where are you hiding, you pathetic Force user?"

 

[Cen Tessek]

[member="Usa'ar Obath"]

Cen snored heavily, his body limp and peaceful as he slept, concealed behind the solid steel frame. The tranquilizer had since been removed, but the drug that coursed through him would incapacitate him for a good while longer. He was defenseless, and the Sith, recognizing his unconcealed presence, had begun to approach him. "Sith, Jedi, Witch... I don't care what you are! I'll kill you just the same," called out the Sith, hacking away at the forest of rubbish like a jungle tracker would use a machete against the greenery. His heavy boots crushed the scraps of trash beneath it, each step crunching heavily as he closed in on the metal structure which served as Cen's cover. He eyed it with a hawkish gaze and paused in his stroll; he simply waited and observed the metal mounting, prepared for an ambush.

When that ambush failed to commence, the Sith lost patience. He struck the metal with his blade, cutting through the steel frame with his lightsabre like butter with a hot knife. The metal sizzled and melted, splitting apart with a hissing crack and exposed a surprising sight. Nothing rested beyond the cover, Cen had completely vanished. Confused, the Sith stepped forward, quickly hopping about in hopes of observing the chiss making his escape. Yet, nothing was there; there were no weapons and no chiss, it was as if they had been swallowed into the darkness and had ceased to exist. Then there it was in the distance, the echoed sound of an elongated snore. The Sith spun around, lightsabre raised. He could not tell from which direction the snore had originated, but it slowly rumbled forth once more. "A trap?" inquisited the Sith, moments before the ground imploded around him in a dark cloud of gritty rubble.

From the fog of darkness a shape flew freely, like a soaring Aiwha escaping the cold depths of the Kamino sea in a valiant display of prideful flight. TP-10D hoisted Cen onto his shoulder, carrying him forth like a stork sent straight from Hell. His bulging crimson sensors glowing malevolently in the dark sky as he made his descent to the earth in effort to terrorize its denizens. He landed with a bang as his metal feet collided with packed tons of scrap metal which served as the junkyard mountains, chiss on one shoulder, sniper rifle on the other. From the collapsed hole of the ambush the Sith eventually emerged is pursuit, force jumping through the air with blade drawn, crashing down towards the IG-86 droid. He swung the blade wildly in a fervent fury of artistic, masterful displays of swordsmanship. It was Djem So evidently, the heavy arcs of his two handed swing were engulfed with the fixation of power, the wind seeming to shift with each blow.

The IG leaped away, defenseless against the Sith Knight's onslaught. It's head swivled widely and with its red eyes focused upon the meak pilot, it spoke pleadingly, "Please, help us, Meatbag."

 

[Usa'ar Obath]

Usa'ar didn't think he'd ever been in so much pain in his life. His entire body ached. His left arm was numb, and it took him a moment to realize he had landed on it. Underneath him was a corpse of a soldier. Usa'ar didn't have any of his weapons on him anymore. That's when he noticed the odd droid and a seemingly lifeless Cen on its shoulder. What in the world? But the Sith was almost on top of them. Frantically searching for a weapon, he looked down at the corpse and found its utility belt, in which there was an airstrike beacon.

Of course! The interceptors! Just as he thought about them, they came soaring overhead, red lasers flashing, kicking up debris. Usa'ar figured his only chance was to use the beacon to take out the Sith. An extremely unlikely plan, but it was all he could think of. Activating it, he waited until he saw the interceptors come around for another pass. "Hey, fartface!" he yelled at the Sith, getting his attention before throwing the beacon at his feet.

 

[Cen Tessek]

[member="Usa'ar Obath"]

Cen awoke to the sound of distant thunder and the warm smells of a campfire. His eyes slowly blinked away, the sight of only half the world slightly disorienting him, even after all these years of blindness, but he slowly came to the conclusion he must be camping in the midst of a Tattooine-level thunderstorm. He rolled over, stretching out his arms to wake blissfully to the sight of his friends and family gathered around, roasting womp rat wieners over a blazing open fire. Whatever was cooking smelled truly delicious and it quelled his drowsiness and pulled him from the deep depths of his slumber. "Hey, guys, whatcha cookin'?" he asked, oblivious to the flames that engulfed his pant thigh.

He never was truly awake as he was when TP stepped over and began to stomp the fire out, slamming his metal foot into Cen's leg to snuff out the fire with the repetitive speed of a jackhammer. Cen screamed, rolling way down the pile of trash and into the battlefield, now coated by a layer of scattered craters prior to the interceptor bombardment. The Sith was nowhere to be seen, and as far as Cen was concerned, had never existed in the first place. He was simply content dragging his lower body across he crap-ridden ground as he crawled about with his hands. "W-Where am I? I- WAIT," he had begun eying TP, who followed behind the worming chiss in an effort to cease his strange behavior. Cen immediately threw himself at the droid, fists raised in preparation for his assault. "YOU DID THIS TO ME!"

Sadly, in his weak state, the droid simply caught him, attempting to brush his hair as he squirmed and cooed, "It is okay Sith Lord codenamed Blue by Folder-Dash-T811100001359, also known as Blue Folder, which also codenames you as Avatar of Fate and now, judging by the cataclysmic level of destruction your appearance as foretold, Harbinger of..." His cone head tilted awkwardly close into Cen's personal space, his vocoder right next to his blue ear as he whispered in a raspy echo, "Death." Cen fought the droid's embrace, his arms wriggling free and stretching out for the assistance of divine intervention. Sadly, he had to settle for the next best thing, "USA, HELP ME!"

 

[Usa'ar Obath]

The initial strafe of the interceptors had thrown Usa'ar deep into the recesses of a junk pile; his body was twisted in an odd way. His helmet had cracked, nearly in two, and he could feel the background, yet ever-present thump of the bruises on his body. He felt content to just lay there, head on a rusty beam and legs held up by an old contraption of some sorts. He simply thought for awhile. He thought about his ARC, now scattered into a million pieces. He thought about his life back on Mygeeto. He thought about if he would ever settle down and find a girl to marry. He just thought.

I could lie here forever, honestly. And right now, Usa'ar thought about doing just that. He carefully removed his helmet and stayed just where he was, thinking about everything and nothing, oblivious to the world.

 

[Cen Tessek]

[member="Usa'ar Obath"]

Eventually, TP found within the deep recesses of his iron circuitry that served some semblance to a heart the compassion to release Cen, who fell straight onto the ground with a groan. "What happened? The entire junkyard is torn to shreds," he groaned slowly, rolling onto his back to make it easier on his bruised ribs to breath. He was right, the entirety of the junkyard was either scorched and craters, or aflame. Massive columns of smoke blocked out the city sights, shrouding the junkyard in smoldered darkness, with only the light of flame and falling cinders to see by. The massive bonfires of trash emblazoned the once foul air with a wave of near unbearable heat, conjuring sweat from the living, and only spreading the stink of the dead further. What the fire did not cover soon would be, judging by the spread of the flame, which ran rampart across the jungles of moldy garbage.

Cen slowly stood upright, leaning on the seemingly friend albeit terrifying droid for support, who gladly looped a lanky metal arm around him to assist. "I have come o' Harbinger," it croaked in a metallic voice, earning only a scowl from Cen who began to lurch towards Usa. "Usa," he whispered with a dry, beaten voice. "Usa, get up. We need to escape or we're going to be burned alive here and, to be quite frank, I'd rather not die like that."

 

[Usa'ar Obath]

Nothing felt real anymore. Usa'ar felt almost like he was floating. High above the noxious fumes, high above the city skyline, far above the planet itself. Yet, wherever he traveled in this dream-like state, a hazy smog filled his vision, thickening by the minute. A mysterious dream-like figure approached him. "Usa," it said to him, reaching out a hand. "Usa, get up. We need to escape or we're going to be burned alive here, and, to be quite frank, I'd rather not die like that." Burned alive. Burned alive. Something about those words triggered something strong. That, and the thickening haze filling his dream vision. Suddenly he snapped awake, coughing and sputtering.

"Cen!" he gasped, lungs filling with the smoke from the battle. "Yeah, let's get out of here." He groaned and slowly lifted himself out of his crevice, limping to join Cen and the droid. "I feel awful."