Thus did the Blue Devil scream

[Filius Stellarum]

[member="Neroba the Hutt"]
Filius was surprised. The Hutt's reaction had been swift. Surprising. However, Filius was not without defenses. The grenade detonated, but Filius did not panic. He simply let his cybernetic eye, unimpaired by flash and sound, to take over, leaping forward. Blaster bolts seared over his head as he dived, and several struck his unarmored back, grazing the skin, but his enhanced agility and years of training allowed him to dodge most of the shots. He popped out of his roll and fired several more snapshots. The shots, though they may have looked hastily aimed, were as precise as ever. Filius was trained for situations like this. He was a snapshooter as well as a marksman.

This time, Filius took no chances. Switching his weapon to stun, he fired his clip's remaining seven shots in a cross pattern, aiming simultaneously for the head, chest, both arms, and the Hutt's lower body. If the Hutt tried anything, he would be hit with a shot. Then, Filius could have his fun. Some shots would no doubt miss, but Filius was already slamming a new clip into his rifle. The shots to his back flared with pain, but they were grazing blows, and he was trained to fight pain. He was an assassin; a shot with a dinky little blaster pistol could not stop him. still crouched, he shoved himself backwards and rolled behind the door frame.

(OOC: Same here. I suggest responding to this one, then letting Thraxis have his go. This whole thing happened pretty fast, so it makes sense that he wouldn't have responded yet.)

 

[Neroba The Hutt]

"Kill them! Kill them both!" The woman shouted wildly, a smile managing to crease her brutally beaten features.

More Blaster fire came, the Assassin apparently had little care for controlled bursts and tactical precision. Neroba had already found himself half leaned behind the wall that supported the framing for the door. It was the matter of simple lurching that tucked the rest of his slug-like body behind the feeble protection. So sad, the Hutt thought to himself. The Galaxy used to be full of real men that made their living honest and hard, now everyone was a 'borg of some sort. Eating flashbangs to the face, relying on cybernetic enhancements to make up for their shortcomings. All any criminal needed was a blaster, a brain and the will to overcome the odds of any situation presented. Neroba had this. The only augmentation he used was that of his cool, level-headed and cruel nature.

Like stone, Neroba weathered the storm of this assault; the wall and doorframe beside him was rapidly finding it's old, worn texture razed out of his existence. Splinters and blaster bolts chewing through it with ease, it seemed illogical when the man began firing Stun rounds, which proved very ineffective against the substance his previous mode of fire had been erasing wholesale, had he maintained his more aggressive assault he likely could have taken the Hutt.

But he hadn't.

Neroba, his Hutt blood leaking from a hundred wounds of wooden shrapnel thorns that clung in to the back and side of his light brown head, and through his white shirt. Was ready for his action now. Since it would prove irrational that [member="Filius Stellarum"] would place himself against the doorframe opposite of Neroba, since if that were the case the Hutt could just shoot him with complete ease from his own position, it was therefore obvious that Filius had taken refuge on the opposite side of the wall.

Without a sound, or a moments worth of hesitation. Neroba unleashed a barrage of fire through the torn and tattered wall where he had heard the mans body thump. Now, unless this man had even more superhuman capabilities, it was highly unlikely he would slip away unscathed. It was worth noting again, a blaster was not a slugthrower. It was a concentrated beam of energy, just as it would pass through this wall, it would pass through Filius' body with ease.

 

[Filius Stellarum]

[member="Neroba the Hutt"]
Filius was now extremely agitated. His stun shots had hit the wall. He was not thinking clearly. He had thought the Hutt was in the open, but in truth he had been hiding behind the door frame. Now a barrage of laser bolts was passing through the wall over his head. Luckily, Filius had pressed himself to the ground, making himself as small a target as possible, so most shots of the unconcentrated barrage went over his head, and the rest just missed. He thought quickly, trying to think of some way to regain the upper hand. Then, it hit him. He could not think to attack in a conventional way. The Hutt was behind a door frame, and if he popped out or even moved he would be hit. He had to use his superior weapon to win this battle.

As bolts continued to scream over his head, missing him by mere millimeters, Filius turned the power on his rifle to maximum velocity, essentially overloading it. He only used his rifle in this fashion in the worst of situations, or when he had to make a near-impossible shot. His rifle at full power would expend the entire magazine, but it would produce a shot powerful enough to blast clean through both layers of wall and hit the Hutt. Even if the shot wasn't enough to kill, it would be plenty powerful enough to wound.

Keeping low and ignoring the shots that zoomed over and past his head, Filius lay on his stomach and activated his scope's thermals. The Hutt, a massive blob of pure heat, came up as a plain and clear signature on the scope. Taking the aim of a master, Filius fired a single, powerful shot.

 

[Neroba The Hutt]

Again, this proved to be a massive example of an individual relying too much on their tools, and not enough on their know-how, or experience. Neroba was sculpted and raised with violence. The entire beginning of his life was spent fighting for survival in a Shadowport City, a barbarous place that demanded blood and flesh of each and every resident. One could imagine being a young and small Hutt, in a Galaxy where many. . . many. . individuals have an extreme hatred for his species, it was no easy journey to where he was now, and his journey would not end here, not by [member="Filius Stellarum"] and his bag of technological trickery.

As the man himself had remarked earlier, the scope was largely ineffective with the latent heat produced in this kitchen. If anything, that was now doubly true, considering the stove had been pumping out the greedy warmth of it's interior, waiting patiently for it's feast of human child to be fed in to the tortuous swelter of it's belly. Second, there was he fever left behind from the latent ozone of each discharged blaster bolt--Filius had fired the majority of them himself--third, and most importantly, the wall he took aim on had been left ragged and smoldering from the assault both he and the Hutt had left on it.

It'd be remarkable if he could in fact even make out the shape of the Kajidii's body, let alone get an accurate, pinpoint shot off on him. But when you had firepower, you didn't always need accuracy.

Quite remarkably, the wall and the frame of the door violently met obliteration. A burst of wood and insulation fragments expanded in a wild spray of destruction. Many pieces punctured and stabbed in to the young Hutt, but given his physiology these wounds were redundant punctures that would merely provide him a more fearsome appearance while his body naturally healed away the damage and the scars over the many years his life would continue to last.

The Blaster Bolt, hot and snapping with hysterical energy screamed by to the right side of his head. The intensity of it's overcharge was so extreme that the very heat from it visibly burned Neroba's face to a grotesque crisp of fat and boiling volcanoes of pus spewing bubbles. The milky orb of his already damaged eye popped, it's circular shape sagging in on itself as the intraocular fluid was forcibly ejected by the scalding heat.

A lesser being would have been ruined. But Neroba the Hutt, this would not bring him to yield.

As the blaster bolt sailed on, pounding through ceiling, then wall, then even in to the opposite building. The Hutt took his opportunity to end this. Filius had left himself quite helpless in his hasty last ditch to gain an upper hand. One Neroba right now was pressing his advantage on.

Filius was on his stomach, his weapon was now empty. These two things made him non-threatening. Simple bio-mechanics of the range of movement the human body was capable of would prevent him from exacting a speedy maneuver, and his best defense, the X-2, was now worthless. With the wall largely gone, and the doorway even wider, Neroba gave a massive heave of his bulk, his blaster aim true as could be. Four, five, six shots all for the abdominal region of this man from very, very close proximity.

 

[Filius Stellarum]

[member="Neroba the Hutt"]
Unfortunately, Neroba had missed one key factor of Filius's weapon, and his position in firing it. The blasts from Filius's weapon were very precise, factored for accuracy and range, not power. His overload had given him the power to punch through the second wall, but the wall he had fired through in the first place was not as affected. The barrel of his carbine had been almost pressed against the wall, and the shot created only a small hole about as big as the barrel, maybe a little larger. It was enough to bring the already shredded wall down, but the rubble still had some capacity for cover.

Despite his previous failings, Filius was by no means a moron. He knew that having an empty blaster was not a good tactical choice, and being in a bad position as he was now was made it even worse. So as soon as he fired the shot, he started rolling to the side, like a child rolling down a hill. When the Hutt slugged out into the open, Filius was not where he had expected him to be. He was in fact rolling right behind an intact section of the wall. As he rolled he scrambled for another power pack and slammed it in. Using his opposite hand for power to add speed to his roll and using the bare scraps of the wall for cover, Filius fired another quick shot on the massively injured Hutt just as he rolled behind the cover.

From there, Filius sprang to his feet, hoping his shot would give him enough of a distraction. He bolted into the cantina proper, zig-zagging to throw off the Hutt's aim and firing two more shots over his shoulder, and combat slid behind a bar. He popped out again and fired two more bolts, leaving him with half a power pack still remaining.

(OOC: Just a thought, it just sounds like your lending a little too much power to a blaster pistol. You said it was a small one, and you are acting as if it practically blew out the wall on my side, when only the wall on your side was majorly affected by my shot. I would assume it would only leave small holes, like a bullet, and wouldn't be enough to bring down a supporting wall, like one in a kitchen. Just a thought. I went to the cantina to sort of reset the combat and give [member="Thraxis"] a chance to come in and Filius and Neroba to catch a breather. I suggest you react to my shots and we both take cover, a sort of stand-off until Thraxis comes. Sound good?)

 

[Neroba The Hutt]

(([member="Filius Stellarum"] OOC: No, I disagree entirely. You are adding details and retconning what you originally stated. You were on your stomach, you were gazing through the scope, it is so counter-intuitive that your character also put the muzzle of the gun right up against the wall. Then you stated plainly that he was firing a shot that essentially drains an ENTIRE gas cartridge. You also stated it would blast through the wall, and insinuated it'd happen with ease, since you also claimed it would punch through in this manner but it would produce a shot powerful enough to blast clean through both layers of wall. This would lead one to believe you are now clear in the open, on your stomach in a very exposed and vunerable position. As for the blaster pistol, I have never stated it was anything but. You keep referring to it like a slugthrower. It is not one. Now if there were steel, or similarly strong materials/armor in play, not old wood in an equally old and decrepit building, it may be a different story. But the blaster would shoot through a shoddy wooden wall with ease. I never said it had so much power that it destroyed the wall, only that it passed through the wall, just like it'd pass through you. You came in with an axe to grind, it seems. I haven't and would never ask you to change the behavior of your character. I won't change how Neroba has reacted to his aggression and disrespect. But don't try to pretend like I am playing unfair when you're coming at me with the stuff you've been using, I think I've been pretty sporting thus far lmao.))

 

[Filius Stellarum]

(I apologize. I am just trying not to die. I also understand that your blaster is not a slugthrower, I am just saying that I don't think it would have enough power to create massive gaping holes, enough to bring down a wall simply by shooting. We are both just trying to make sure our characters don't die. I also think that if the wall had exploded, there would be wood flying, lots of dust and smoke, and still scraps of wall, which I am rolling still on my stomach by the way just to be clear. I am sure it would be enough to screen me at least enough to get up and move. My character is extremely agile, cybernetically enhanced to be stronger and faster.

I am really starting to not like where this whole thing is headed. I don't want to die, and you don't want to die, so we are both doing things to keep our characters from dying. I apologize if anything I have done rubs the wrong way, I never intended to do so. I just have never dueled in RP with another person, so its hard trying to be realistic and not get myself shot in the process. I never intended to touch off combat.

I suggest we just reset the combat, me in the cantina and you in the kitchen, and let [member="Thraxis"] respond.)

 

[Neroba The Hutt]

((OOC: Lmao, again, I never said Neroba's blaster pistol brought down a wall. Your blaster brought down the wall, it unleashed a bolt that was powered by all of the blaster gas in your weapon. That's a lot of energy. I've taken damage in every post, put up with the claims that you have somehow been altered to be this superhuman speed machine, sat back while you have essentially just been adding features to your primary weapon at your leisure--or at least didn't make clear in the description on the tech page for it, which could be my mistake--plus, you are the one that picked the fight and seemed to have no issue aggressively attempting to kill Neroba while you had the advantage. I do feel it is very cheap that now, at a disadvantage, you want to pack it up and move on lol. I've just been playing defensively and attempting to work around some pretty strong attacks the whole time while staying in character [member="Filius Stellarum"]))

 

[Filius Stellarum]

([member="Neroba the Hutt"] I have taken damage, and I believe that you have managed to shrug off pretty much everything that damaged you, so I don't see the issue. As far as my speed, I am cybernetically enhanced. It is very clear in my character page; I am supposed to be faster than a regular human. As far as my rifle goes, flooding it with power would be a simple act, usable by any weapon. I hear what you are saying, and I really do not want to argue or go back and forth about this anymore. I understand that I have made mistakes, and I am willing to learn from them. I thank you for your help in improving my RP, and I appreciate that you are taking this calmly and helping me to improve rather than going nuts. Lesson learned, point taken. Like I said, I don't duel other PCs much. It has been a learning experience for me, so lets please move on. You are relatively unhurt, I am relatively unhurt. You are in the kitchen, I am in the cantina. If you want to delete the posts and start over, I am fine with that. If you want to go on from here I am fine with that as well. Your decision.

And let me make this last point very clear. I am avoiding damage and running for the cantina because I Do Not Want My Character to Die Here. It is not something I am okay with and would rather run from the cantina than have that happen. You can avoid damage to your heart's content. I leave the allowance of your character to be injured to you, because that is how I RP. However, If you are really set on filling my character with blaster bolts because I can't seem to do a thing to you and am at a disadvantage now because the wall has gone poof and vanished and you aren't even stunned by having such an apparently massive bolt fly by your head, even though Filius is a master marksman and would have been able to hit such a massive target as a Hutt without the scope, you know what, fine. I will lie there and take it and move on to the next character.

I am sorry I am ranting, and I know this sounds childish and immature, but I just really do not want to die here and waste a perfectly good character over a fight I never intended to start.)

 

[Neroba The Hutt]

((OOC: [member="Filius Stellarum"] I haven't dueled since MSN chat lol. I have no problem moving on, that's not my issue. If you want to get out easy and avoid the position you were in, this is fine, but the fight is done. Not saying the feud has to be, Neroba is a Hutt he knows how to hold a grudge. They can fight somewhere else, another time. But I'm not willing to just give up a dominate position and reset the fight for a round two lmao. It wasn't easy trying to fight you with a pistol. My suggestion would be you take off out of the bar, and hook up with Thraxis after. Don't have to leave the thread by any means, the more the merrier. If you want to keep fighting, we can keep fighting, no resets. If you want to stop, we can stop, no problem.))

 

[Filius Stellarum]

[member="Neroba the Hutt"](I am sorry if this came on the wrong way, but I didn't intend the combat to suddenly end and restart. I meant lets continue the combat with me in the cantina and you in the kitchen. Maybe reset was the wrong word, apologies for the confusion.)

 

[Thraxis]

"Huh?" his voice echoed as a bright flash incapacitated Thraxis, stumbling back as he swung around rapidly. His ears registered gunfire, a few bolts skidding across his armor, the Phirik easily deflecting them from harming his body. His hands dug deep into his pockets, pulling out one of his bottles of booze, he swung around and moved his helmet off, his head becoming vulnerable to gunfire. The swill gently made its way down his throat, a familiar sensation when compared to the blinding light.

His drink finished he put his helmet back on and went to sit in a corner his arms resting on his legs as he dropped his head back, "Arrggh. I hate Mondays." he yelled as he listened to the gunfire, his eyes recovering and observing the whole match. Though he remained silent, wanting to see the outcome of the fight.
[member="Neroba the Hutt"] [member="Filius Stellarum"]

 

[Neroba The Hutt]

Rolls that made no tactical or bio-mechanical sense, actions that disregard sound logic, an ever evolving weapon whose components managed to somehow survive a hidden surprise feature that would essentially turn it's damage yield--being a Sniper Rifle (which also transforms in to a Carbine)--in to something not far off from Starfighter-grade. [member="Filius Stellarum"] even managed to pull off evasions at a speed that even a full-fledged Droid would not be capable of managing, one could wager even the most stalwart student of the Force did not have the dancing skills this man possessed.

But no matter how abject the situation seemed for young Neroba, he would not abandon or succumb to defeat without a fight, even as every single shot he dismissed from the end of his blaster ineptly fell in to the already woefully downtrodden walls, floor and ceiling of the Blue Devil Cocktails building. This was the Criminal Underworld, these Wild West throw downs were the lifeblood of this lifestyle, the status quo.

Another Blaster Bolt greedily claimed real-estate on the Hutt's ample body, his right shoulder. Fat sizzled from the heat of the bolt, the shot cut clean through Neroba, it's journey ending in a bright explosion of sparks somewhere in the ruined cooking area of the kitchen. Injured as he was, the proud Kadijii of Ujiliic still refused to falter, even for a single second. He would not allow [member="Thraxis"] to see him weakened, or break.

Instead, as all Hutt's are so very known for, he would use his wits and his ability to network do the talking. His species, after all, were the most notorious middle men in the entire Galaxy. Making connections, and exploiting the skills of others to do their bidding, it's what Criminal Empires were forged on.

"Twenty-Five Hundred Head a week, " Neroba said, slithering with strong strides out of Filius' field of fire. "This, I can offer your Pitt as a start. Put your skills and guns with Neroba. . . and in time I will transform your Pitt in to an Abyss." He offered, and these words were true. Neroba was the future, and he would make sure the venture Thraxis seemed to so cherish would become the crater that defined the very meaning of the word Suffering.

 

[Filius Stellarum]

Filius was growing happier as the fight dragged on. He was keeping [member="Neroba the Hutt"] off-balance. His lifetime of training was paying off. Yet, as he heard Neroba yell, he knew he was probably in a spot of trouble. The only things that got you anywhere in the criminal underworld were a big blaster, or one fat pocketbook. He decided to retaliate with his own capabilities.

"Why put yourself in debt to this sack of useless Hutt [member="Thraxis"]!" Filius cried from his cover behind the bar, hoping to throw the Hutt into a rage that would be his undoing, "I can get you anything you want, and it will not cost you near as much! Political enemies? Gone! Anyone who displeases you? Gone! Someone you feel has information but just don't want to torture? I am your guy!" Filius didn't like putting himself out there like this, but if he wanted to successfully infiltrate the Cartel, he needed to play the part. Filius fired a couple more blasts to suppress the Hutt and continued his pitch.

"One hundred credits a job, and you will have the best assassin in the galaxy at your beck and call!" he cried, "Put me on your payroll, and you will have the entire criminal underworld knocking at your door, begging to support you, just to stay out of my rifle scope! There is no one in the galaxy who can hide from me!" Filius was really into it now. Neroba thought he could win with political connections? Ha! That was a laugh! Filius could reduce his connections to the magic number zero in a matter of weeks. Just in case though, Filius pulled a smoke grenade from his belt. He had to be ready to run if the need arose. He didn't like retreating, but there was one rule, the Golden Rule of assassins, that he made sure never to break. "Never get bogged down, and never fight when you don't have the upper hand."

 

[Thraxis]

"THAT IS ENOUGH!" his voice radiated into a roar, his helmet being tossed to the side as he rose completely, his comlink activating he made demands to the pilot, "Have the gun ready." He politely said to the pilot, his voice changing erratically to a calm demeanor. Slowly the ship started to descend to the ground grains of sand and dirt flicking themselves away as the ship lowered itself close to the ground, a single Machine gun Turret laying waste to whatever remained of the ceiling.

"Both of you sit down, shut up!" he yelled with bloodshot eyes, his hair facial creatures quickly crumpling as he looked to the two men, "Neroba! You are looking for someone to help you rise through the ranks. This man here has just shown his potential." he shouted as his arm rose and pointed directly towards Filius, "And you want to join the cartel?" he continued to yell as he bit his lips, a slight trail of blood rolling down his chin. "Well, Neroba here is a Hutt and probably got more consistent work then any of the Hutts in the Cartel." he said as the same arm twisted towards Neroba his eyes looking between the both of them. If anything the threat of a machine gun laying waste to them was certain to calm them down for a second or two.

His eyes directed towards the woman who egged on the fight, "And you have lost the privilege to speak now!" he said as he walked closer to the woman, his lips curling as he pressed his hand against her head, while his other arm dug into her mouth and teared out the tongue to release a spray of crimson from her mouth.
[member="Neroba the Hutt"] [member="Filius Stellarum"]

 

[Neroba The Hutt]

One eye damaged, again. Half of his face scorched black and slathered with viscous puss and thick, slimy blood. His body a proverbial pincushion of wooden shrapnel, it gave him the appearance of some great spiked beast one could only envision in their darkest slumber, or on any of the vastly polluted Hutt Worlds, ironically. He'd even felt the kiss of a blaster bolt--twice--just another day on Nar Shaddaa, just like the stories he'd heard in the Stygian Mecca.

This, however?

THIS?

This was like the drug induced delirium of some wispy dream-state he'd been in not that many nights ago when he first placed his flag in the doddering Blue Devil. Ripe with over aggressive assassins that eluded any semblance of balance, or natural law. Explosions, Shrapnel, Blasters, Babes and Torture. This had had most of those--but not all.

Granted NOW there were gunships and door gunners and a hole in the ceiling, a big one. Neroba dropped the blaster pistol, clearly it had, in fact, been so cheap and clumsy in it's design and calibration it could not even hit a man that was scuttering across the floor like some fool in a M'chel Ba'y HoloFilm, or even graze him as he ran out of the room. . . foolishly zig-zagging as if that was in some way a sound stratagem and not actually a hindrance that would only slow down his progression of forward movement and make him an easier target.

"Ha. . .haha. . " The laugh was as deep, no, more deep than his voice had proved to be thus far. Very guttural, almost jovial in some strange way.

He pointed at [member="Thraxis"], then up to the ceiling.

"Ha ha ha ha. . . . " The Hutt just couldn't process what was happening.

All he'd wanted to do was make an ally tonight, no. No that wasn't it, not fully. He wanted to create a lasting bond through the art of unhinged, imaginative, truly sick and twisted methods of torture. He wanted to know Thraxis would be in his corner for the turbulent times ahead. For a storm would rise, this had not been champagne wishes and caviar dreams, Ujiliic was going to reignite the short fuse of the Underworld and with Neroba at the helm, he would see that Criminals in his stable had work, pay, spice, booze and play.

But not like this.

"HA!" The Hutt bellowed, that tone still buoyant and bouncy.

If they run, they're RT! If they stand still. . . they're a well disciplined RT!

He could remember the scene well, some hippy One Sith Propaganda film about the war with the Republic, in regards to their Troopers. It'd gotten pretty rave reviews if he recalled correctly, Neroba thought silently while heaving his mass quite unabated by the current scenario. Full Metal Sith, the boot camp scene gave it it's cult status, sure. But the scenes on Contruum were pretty outstanding.

From the fridge, which had been rocked over on to it's side and sported some nasty dents and penetration wounds with liquid coolant leaking from it's heavy base. Neroba retrieved the paper wrapped Corellian Yellow-Fin Tuna--the one on the counter had been rendered in to mere stains of slush on the wall and still ignited stove--then made for the back exit of the building.

Now, had [member="Filius Stellarum"] came in here with his head screwed on straight and not played himself out to be some untouchable mega-god of combat and war, had he just given up his rifle. . . since. . he just randomly showed up to this place--a place that Thraxis himself only knew to enter because he had been slipped the address--fully armed with his mystical ever-changing weapon, that when forged in to one piece of mass destruction, formed the Shadowblade. Then had he not attacked the young Hutt, confusing battle prowess with drunken staggering, yes. Thraxis was right. He would have had more jobs than he'd ever possibly know how to complete.

But that had not happened.

And Neroba would not work with someone that a moment earlier had just tried to kill him, after disrespecting him no less. In fact, said Assassin should consider himself lucky that the Hutt is indeed such a sporting fellow, or the knuckle-dragging waif would have proven to be little more than a speed bump. But Neroba was positive Filius would in fact call this a victory in his favor, which was fine. As it stood now, they would simply go their separate ways.

Had he a hat for his Hutt head, Neroba would have put it on. Were there a mic, in his chubby Hutt hand he would have dropped it just so. Since he had neither;

Before vanishing out the back, Neroba bent towards [member="Thraxis"] with one arm neatly tucked over bleeding belly--fish secure between bicep and side----and the other arm stretched far aloft, a gracious bow indeed to behold. So gracious in fact, the pose should have been molded then created in to a great work of art that would sit atop a fountain, or a float in a parade.

And at that, Neroba did bid those two wonderful Gent's adieu.

 

[Filius Stellarum]

[member="Neroba the Hutt"][member="Thraxis"]
Filius watched the Hutt go, an honorable opponent. Filius had not intended combat, but combat had found him nonetheless. Filius was frusturated. He mad made so many mistakes in this battle, only luck had allowed him to survive. The Hutt had been an honorable opponent. Filius was not one who forgave easily, but he was sure neither was Neroba. With a sigh, Filius stood up from behind the bar and removed the magazine from his weapon. He walked up to Thraxis and handed him the weapon.

"Take it," he said, "Until I deserve I once more." Filius's head was screaming now, he had to do everything within his power to not cry out in pain. His human side and brainwashed side were fighting a war, and he did not know how to stop it. Finally, he made a choice. For one brief second, his brainwashing fell away and he was a normal man. A man with emotion.

"Neroba, wait!" he yelled, charging out after the retreating Hutt. When he was in view he locked the Hutt in his gaze.

"You may be a Hutt," Filius said, "And that is something that keeps us from ever being true friends, but you are not the Hutt I seek. I will not hold a grudge for this battle. It was a useless engagement, and neither of us is the winner here. I don't expect you to accept me as anything other than a nuisance, but know that it was by blind luck that I am even still standing here right now. I do not wish to part as an enemy. If you ever need someone...dealt with, you know where to find me." Filius smiled genuinely, but then doubled over as his brain once again battled itself. His brainwashed side took over again, and he was the ruthless killer once more.

"Just don't ever point a blaster at me again," he said in a voice once more void of emotion. He nodded to his enemy and returned to the cantina.