Saving the Devil (Bolt)

[Nyx]

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"Stupid karking swamp and it's stupid karking water."​

More mutterings filled the swamp air as a figure stomped through the swamp, fiddling with a communicator. She'd gotten water in her damn communicator, and it was malfunctioning. Now she was stuck here with a crashed shuttle, and no way to signal a ride.​

Awesome.​

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Nyx had been hired two days earlier by the Naboo government to investigate a distress signal coming from the moon, and she had figured that it would be relatively simple.​

But she hadn't accounted for her horrible piloting skills, and now she was stranded. Karking perfect. The ship was karked, but the fuel was fine, not that that helped her.​

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She continued fiddling with the communicator, hoping for something to come along and alleviate the frustration.​

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[member="Bolt Jast"]​

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[Bei Ssuan]

*CLANG CLANG CLANG*​

The machine’s static was grating, but the silence was even more frustrating. Was this machine even working right? Maybe Bolt had made a mistake while constructing it. If so what a waste of three days.​

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Not that three days was a long time or anything, but with the kind of patience Bolt possessed three days felt like a century. Three days of zero sentient interaction, three days of expired rations, and worst of all three days without any of the wild aerial maneuvers he’d frequently pull in his fighter. His poor little fighter, going without juice for three days. Just thinking about it was enough to make him mad.​

*CLANG CLANG CLANG* ​

He smashed the makeshift communication device, he’d constructed a few hours after landing his ship, out of frustration.​

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That wasn’t a smart idea considering the fact he’d need it if he wanted to get off this moon alive. He put the hydrospanner down and promised to lay off of beating the hunk of metal. As he did he started to think Lady Luck was no longer on his side.​

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But was she?​

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Bolt watched a ship shoot by in the sky. The ship was unmistakably coming in for a crash landing.​

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Talking to himself, since there was no one else to take to, Bolt planned out his plan of attack. Either he had an ally in all this or a dead body, but most importantly parts to salvage and fuel for his ship. This was his ticket off of this godforsaken rock. And the sooner he got off the better.​

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"Please make this work for me."​

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Bolt bolted south, if his calculations were right. He’d come across the crash or the person involved in about ninety, maybe a bit over a hundred meters.​

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[member="Nyx"]​