LOCATION: Rooftops by the Valley
ALLIES: [member="Hal Terrano"] [member="Darth Akron"]
ENEMIES: [member="HK-36"] [member="Kaida Taldir"]
OBJECTIVE: Survive and Save
Superheated bolts of red blaster fire blistered forth towards the droid/organic duo, an onslaught that seemed to never end. Orin felt quite good about his odds at the beginning of the one-sided firefight, up until the organic ignited a lightsaber. This was a surprise, as she didn't fit the stereotypical visage of a Jedi. Then again, this was an Omega invasion. Anything was possible. His squad redirected most of their fire to the lightsaber wielding woman without being told to, her presumed control of the force making her a priority target. Orin did the same, his finger pressed down firmly on the trigger of his repeating blaster, his face the grim embodiment of determination.
A few moments of sustained blaster fire later, with bolts being redirected all over the place by the precise defense of the woman, the guardsmen managed to land a good shot. Her arm flew back from the impact, her body rolling over and becoming a harder target to hit. At this point, the droid pulled another trick out of its metallic sleeve.
Are you fething kidding me.
Two lightsabers ignited, spinning brightly and creating a sight that would be nearly beautiful if war wasn't raging around them. A nearly impenetrable wall of searing light, causing blaster bolts to ricochet in all kinds of directions.
"Gah!"
Kloet was down, drilled in the gut by a redirected bolt. Orin sighed, never letting up his fire for one moment. You didn't worry about casualties in a firefight, that could wait until after. Then, he felt a peculiar sensation, like his armour was being pelted by hailstones. It wasn't like shards of ice could penetrate his armour plating or its armourweave underlay, making the rattle of the multiple impacts little more than a slight annoyance. That said, the crimson cloaks of Orin and his squad were added to casualty list, torn to shreds by the razor sharp ice attack.
To add to the insulting list of mounting tricks Omega had up their sleeve, a very unfriendly dropship whizzed onto the scene, absolutely laying into Orin and his squad with an automatic gun of a large caliber. Thankfully, the fallen pillar Orin and his squad had taken cover behind shielded them from everything but raining chips of stone.
Time seemed to slow as Orin, commander of the Royal Guard, the most elite division of soldiers to grace Sith space, decided enough was enough. He lay down his rifle and unholstered his sidearm, a precision weapon if there ever was such a thing. He rose from cover calm and collected, extending just one arm, pistol in hand. It took but a moment to line up the iron sights with the dropship gunner. There was no hesitation, no badass one liner uttered, as the trigger was pulled, sending forth a searing bolt of superheated metal. The gunner was hit squarely in the chest, the force of the impact sending him flying back and out of the other side of the dropship.
Unfortunately, the last thing the gunner decided to do was actually aim, and a round of impressive size tore through the edge of Orin's shoulder, ripping off his pauldron and causing him to stagger back. Fortunately, Orin was also of impressive size, and responded to the glancing blow with a grunt and a smirk, already redirecting his attention to the HK and Kaida. That said, he'd likely need medical attention soon, less he die of blood loss. His squad, no longer under suppressive fire, also rose up and out of cover, beginning their onslaught of blaster fire once more.
MEANWHILE
"I don't care what you saw or are seeing, you limp sack of sh*t," the Medic grumbled as he pulled the last of his medical supplies out of a field bag. Gazing over Hal's battle-ravaged body, he sighed. Although the damage appeared treatable, it was glaringly apparent that it had been caused by explosions. That meant possible internal bleeding. Not something easily treatable, especially in the battlefield.
The Medic slapped Hal across the face again for good measure before using a pair of pliers to remove the big bits of shrapnel from Hal's major wounds. Nothing had seemed to pierce his organs, which was good, though there was an artery that had been severed. The medic worked at an incredible pace, managing to stop most of the external bleeding with skillful use of cauterisation. He sowed the artery shut on both ends, allowing for it to be re-attached after the battle was complete.
No ordinary medic could work at this pace and with this much precision, especially under pressure. Hal should be thankful then that this Medic was a complete badass.
Bacta would not be used, as field kits didn't come with bacta treatment. Unfortunate, or possibly very fortunate, but it complicated how to deal with the internal bleeding. Sighing, the medic did the only thing he could think of. He retrieved a needle from his kit, as well as a syringe filled with a viscous blue fluid. He didn't bother to ask if Hal was ready, he just stabbed the needle directly into Hal's heart and depressed the plunger.
The fluid would effectively stop Hal's heart and brain functions, rendering him, well, dead. But it would also keep him from actually dying, allowing him to be resuscitated at a later time. This ceasation of major functions mean that Hal wound't bleed out through internal injuries and as such, saved Hal's life with his own death.
That is, of course, based on the assumption that the battle would be over soon and Hal could be transported to a medical facility within an hour.
