[TKO] And the Rock Cried Out, No Hiding Place

[Bryce Bantam]

He's only four and a half? So his nickname is also damn near his? These two are so confusing. Sor-Jan looks to be about eight but is a Jedi master near a ten centuries old, so BB figured three had to at least be a few centuries or so. But no used worrying about time paradoxes now because as [member="Joza Perl"] came over he was placed into a fierce and somewhat kinetic shoulder hold.

“Red’s gotta stick together.”

Right, us ginger's are a rare and wondrous breed, and safety in numbers and all... Even through her shapeless outfit, BB felt a strong sensuality coming from Joza. Now that could be the booze, or his own teenage hormones talking but sufficeth to say she was not hard on the eyes by any means.

"No, red's should stick together," Sor-Jan opined, echoing back Joza Perl's earlier statement. "You can enjoy Doctor Bantam's company and I'll venture toward the source of Sam's transmission.

What good news, this might not be a passing meeting. The two had not had much time on the ship to talk, for some reason they both seemed to keep very different hours with BB's force studies and her social activities but now might be the perfect time to break that trend and make a new friend. With a small and somewhat goofy smile on his face, BB turned to the air speeder and opened the passenger side gull wing door before motioning for her to join him.

"Yes Joza, you're right. This Red would love to explore the city with you today."

[member="Joza Perl"] | [member="3X744"]

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

This was why clones preferred the company of other clones.

Because peoples were confusing! Was the pink lady going with them or not? And what did color have to do with it? She wasn't red. Well, she was light-ish red-ish. No, seriously, that was pink! Not red. And the Doctor Bantam, Sir dude fellow guy was definitely not red. He was normal-ish skin color.

And why was the pink lady breathing into a paper bag? Was she nervous? Space sick?

Did she have a sandwich in there and she was sneaking a bite because she didn't want to share?

Hopping through the open door of the speeder, the Mandalorian youngling occupied the back seat with the teddy wookiee he'd thrown in there earlier. Shuffling around on his hands and knees, the blue-garbed boy stuck his head out between the driver and passenger seats. "Doctor Bantam, Sir," the child asked, calling the man out only because he knew his name. 'Hey Pink Lady' rarely went over well, though Three wasn't against tossing that out there either.

"What's a Red?" the boy asked, genuinely curious and obviously confused.

[member="Bryce Bantam"] | [member="Joza Perl"]​

 

[Jsc]

​

EXOCRON'S
THE OLD WORLD
UNION OF CABAL COLONISTS REPUBLIC

Beyond the gold-grass savanna and the white walls of the Republic's tall city lay the broken walls and hot sun of The Old World. Once a golden place. A golden palace on a golden world. Now she lies apart. Distant. Derelict and downtrodden. A wicked past left to falter and stumble alone. Apart to time. Apart from men. Apart from Gods and those who would have dared to guide the stars. This was a new place. An old place. A wasted place. Already broken and shattered upon time's long wheel.

No. The music here was forlorn. Forgotten. Tired strings on a sun-blasted guitar. Queer notes that hung lowly against a blazing blue sky. To hot to touch. Yet to too cold in it's long shadow to go unnoticed. The women here wore only robes. The children barely breeches. Frayed and tattered. Their edges cobbled with dirt and the dry mud of the warm savanna sun. The men wore their weariness on their faces. Canyons carved against the grain. Rebellious and frightened. Tired and shoulders bent. Black beards and blackguards all. Yet defiant and piercing against the storm. Like old sabers that had lost their glossy sheen to darker rust and even older blood. An odd place. An old place. Dedicated to even older Gods.

No. Here something was broken. Something was lost. Something that the UCCR was still trying desperately to forget. Sam walked it's broken steps with her gun held high. Her helm turned back against it's fears. Her eyes drawn out to pierce it's veil. This was the middle ground to the world. Her place between the lines and the government's iron grasp. Where the bricks were loose and the shadows drew out cold into legion. This was blue darkness. White ice melting slowly. Melting slowly. Melting slowly. Up up up and out. Out into the hot savanna sun. The Old World. To even Older Gods. Weeds. Weeds. Weeds, amongst the lost golden grass. You could even see the strain written on the walls. The posters. The red iron banners. The guard checkpoints that held no humans. Only droids with guns. Only machines to desperate to talk. With their long iron bars and long iron gazes. Fallen. Failing. Fallen. Now failing once again. Even to keep the peace.

She stopped her trek at a grand golden byway to it's wide cobblestone streets. Holstered her rifle and folded her arms. Just letting the sounds of the broken city wash over her. Everywhere desperate people. Everywhere a desperate calm. Everywhere a new world. Blooming. Dying. Renewing. Birthing itself again. Bathing in the tired embers of a world weary past. Something broken. Something lost. Something the UCCR was trying desperately, desperately to forget.

No. This is where her story would begin. This is where she would call it, start. This. ...This was The Old World.

And she was still very, very much alive.

...

 

[Joza Perl]

“Doctor?” Turning abruptly towards [member="Bryce Bantam"], Joza regarded the young man with an almost suspicious gaze, as if he were trying to trick her. “But you’re like, twelve.” Not that she actually thought that his looked twelve, but Joza sort of forgot what twelve year old’s looked like. Can you blame her? It had been at least ten years since she’d been that age. Twelve may very well just be her synonym for “looks younger than me” at this point. Who really knew, though.

“It’s settled then!” Joza declared, nodding decisively as she made herself comfortable in the passenger seat. Comfortable meaning ungracefully slumped, and it was a good thing the robe covered a lot. It was at this point that she noticed the form of [member="3X744"] in the back seat, armed with a cache of weapons and a stuffed Wookie. Despite Bryce being the one addressed, Joza answered quickly seeing as how she was the self-declared resident expert on Reds. Well, she was the oldest! Right?

“Red.” Turning in her seat, she pointed to her own hair, then to Dr.Bantam’s. “It’s in the hair, kid. All of it. Hey…” Her gaze suddenly tightened, scanning the young clone up and down. “Haven’t I seen you somewhere before? You look familiar.” Indeed, Joza had met the adult version of 3X744 wandering around in a Naboo shopping mall in full clone armor.

 

[Matthew Robinson]

There went [member="Bryce Bantam"], snagging all ladies again. Something about red hair. Matt was so ingrained, thinking about what it would take to dye his own hair, that he almost forgot to respond to [member="Sor-Jan Xantha"]. "Oy, I can tag with you. Wouldn't be wise to keep the medics together, anyway."

He had a feeling a lot of these folks were 'accident' prone.

Pack shifted on his shoulder and a Jenga piece clattered to the ground. Matt ignored it.

"Let's stop faffing about with these blinkered authorities and get onto the library. I'd like to research what the local fauna is here. Maybe make some connections with local vendors." The search and rescue team, Bryce's baby, was always looking for medical alternatives.

 

[Bryce Bantam]

BB shut the passenger side door once [member="Joza Perl"] was in and took his place at the helm of the air speeder. Checking the controls he powered up the drive engines and readied for takeoff. Making sure [member="3X744"] was all strapped in he then began a check of all the system checks were coming back green and before he shut the door he hollered down to those not coming with them.

"You all be careful and stay in touch, I have a feeling these folks aren't the warm and friendly type, [member="Sor-Jan Xantha"] we will get some food stuff to resupply for the track home, you got any requests?"

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

Welp, dodged that bullet.

With a wave of his hand, the boy bid farewell to [member="Bryce Bantam"] and turned to start the walk into town. Turning his head, the boy listened to [member="Matthew Robinson"] and beckoned for the man to join him.

Not that he begrudged Bryce and Company the use of the speeder, but after being contained within a small ship for so long, the walk would do much to exercise the body and the mind. "Planning to go hunting, Doctor Robinson?" the young Jedi inquired, a faint look of amusement on the child's face at he looked back at the mention of fauna.

In all honesty, not a bad idea. Sor-Jan couldn't recall the last time he'd done any real camping, with fresh meat roasting of an actual fire. Even here, he expected prepared foods and autochefs were probably more of the way of it. Which, wasn't necessarily a bad or a good thing. Though there was something liberating about finding and cooking one's own food. At least, in Sor-Jan's experience anyway.

As the pair made their way down the dusty road, the boy looked around at the plains and flat lands that had been re-purposed into the landing fields. Speeders and other air-borne craft darted through the air, though the rustic surrounds made it feel more like the Corellian countryside than a modern metropolitan world, such as Denon or Sullust.

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

Hair?

All this... over hair color? "Huh?" the small clone uttered, as his face scrunched into a clear look of confusion at the Pink Lady's explanation. What the whole big deal with color, anyway? Skin color. Hair color. Eye color. Everyone just seemed like a random grab-bag of colors. It was like throwing a box of crayons up in the air, grabbing three at random, and then using that to draw people.

And, to top it off, the Pink Lady said he looked familiar.

Of course he looked familiar! He looked normal. "I look like lots of people," the boy supplied. Which was a bit of an understatement. At the height of the war, Three had looked like several million people. All of whom were clones.

[member="Joza Perl"] | [member="Bryce Bantam"]​

 

[Jsc]

Sam stopped at the intersection of a small market street. Her spider sense tingling. Oh? And just what could... Oh... Oh my!?

A little scamp of a human boy vaulted right past her. Flipping, tumbling, and soaring through the air like a masterful acrobat. Even poised and inverted in his bounding, halfway between the sky and the earth. He gave a happy wink to Sam. A twinky wink, a squeaky wink. And very very incredibly cheeky little kink. Oh my indeed!

He sailed through the air and used the Force land himself. Gracefully on the bare cobblestones and losing none of his momentum. Yet before Sam could cry out, ho there! A shout assailed from the other direction. Two robots bumbling past,

~ "Stop vagrant! Cease to flee!" ~

Somebody was chasing the boy.

It was the robotic voice of the UCCR droid sentinels. Two of them, in fact. Clamoring down the busy market streets and overturning ever cart and stale they past. Smashing and bashing there way through the golden streets of the Old World Markets. Trying desperately to catch a fleeing cheeky rat. Flipping, flailing, bumbling, and bashing. No excuse me or excuse that. They bulldozed the locals right down like the hard hitting homerun of a ten-ton baseball bat. Doing everything a programmed potter-helmed pooter knew how to do. When it came time to give chase to a local? Yeah. They were mucking it up already. Smash, bash, kapow, and kersploosh.

Sam baffled and bailed. Leaning back out of the way. The boy wizard was already far ahead in his bounding-leaping cascade. The poor robot guards doomed to falter behind. Crashing, smashing, shouting, and sending fruit flying. A dazzling display of goof-hockery, to be sure. The two robots leaped past poor Rivers in a dead sprint with every mad mocking effort to catch up with the boy. But even there advanced gyro-metal legs couldn't give them edge here. The streets were just to full of hoops and the boy wizard just to quick to flee. Quick and slick, and up-an-over too. Even now, the poor kiddo was slinging through the air on the frayed edges of a flying banner above. Making flying through the sky with a pack full of loot look almost easy. Ha ha! Look at him go! ...Yahooo!

"...Wow? Ha!"

Sam's mouth was agape as the disaster just kept rolling on through. Whoa oh. This was exciting now wasn't it!

"Wait? And that boy!... Oh!"

He was using the Force!

"Wait! ...Wait! ...Hey! Wait up!"

Sam gripped her gun with the double effort of her pounding legs. Jumping after the robots with a Calvary gallop and leaping through the debris like a bat out of hell. Rolling rumbling fruit and cobblestone storms be damned! This was something she needed to see! That kiddo was a Jedi for sure.

Rivers bounded after the boy and watching him fling and flip through the air. He might lose these droids but he sure wasn't going to lose her.

"Oh no you don't! Ha! ...I've got you now."

She smiled and pressed through the crowd at a dizzying speed. A game of cat vs mouse vs robot police too! Ha. Just her way to start the day!

"Come on kid. Let's see what you got!"

And with another smash and another broken-cart bang. They were off! From the streets to the signs. To the bridge and the blinds. Up the windows and onto the roofs. The robots smashed, and crashed, and jumped, and vamoosed. Leaping the ledges with their long metal strides. Sam had to marvel at how those droid's could climb. Yet all through the fray and blue skies above. The poor little Jedi boy had the greatest aplomb. Never stopping, never ceasing. To give his oppressor's the slip of his thumb.

"Sweet mercy?"

Sam gasped as she hobbled across the rooftops for breath,

"This kid can really go! ...Hmph."

She jumped and they dashed. Leapt far craters and spilled yesterday's trash. Up and over the long streets below. Blast and smash and a tally high ho! With an orchestra of dry linens and white ribbons their terrible passing did gleefully, yet needfully, flurry to sow.

With a grand flare and a tumbling leading role, the daring boy wizard leapt from a tower and ended the chase by swinging down a brass pole. His two pursuers still remained and put up a grand flight. Leaping down, one behind, and one landing just out in the front. Their red beady eyes just itching and stewing for a grand little fight.

~ "Surrender street rat! You've no where to go!" ~

Yet the boy gave the coppers a happy little wink, and escaped down easily into an open sewer hole.

"Damn..."

Sam shouted from her lookout above. One foot on the edge and her heavy gun cradled in her gloves. Yep. He'd given all of the them slip.

"Not bad. ...Not bad at all."


_____

*ooc: I might rewrite this post when I'm not so high.

 

[Matthew Robinson]

[member="Sor-Jan Xantha"]

A hand came up to scratch at the stubble on his chin as he walked with the kid slash elder leader being. The empath felt a ripple of relief leave the kid/man as Bryce's mop of red-hair disappeared from view. Along with the girl. Dark-brows lofted but he didn't say anything.

"Sure. I prefer to hunt things that won't bite me back."

Lengthy strides easily kept pace with Sor-Jan. Hazel-eyes picked up on the outline of the city ahead. But the medic wasn't in a hurry. It was nice to stretch his legs and fill his lungs with something other than recycled-air. "How'd you end up with the Outbackers, mate? You've got quite the reputation with the crew. Saw that mumbo-jumbo mind-stuff you pulled when we landed. It was blimey brilliant."

 

[Bryce Bantam]

​

​

EXOCRON'S
EVGENIGRAD
UNION OF CABAL COLONISTS REPUBLIC

​

BB left his friends and headed for the nearest ctiy he could see with [member="3X744"] and [member="Joza Perl"] . As the bleak metropolis rose up on the horizon it soon became clear this was not paradise settlement of a utopian society. No this was the skyline of a repressed civilization. Large state-run skyscrapers towered over meek and ill maintained residential apartments. Everywhere you looked factories with massive smokestacks belched black, uncleaned air into the sky leaving the city in a state of twilight even at high noon. As with the spaceport the ever present signs of state-run propaganda were plastered on every rundown wall and building. Not the hospitable place they all had been hoping for but it would have to do.

t]

As they approached a pair of UCCR attack helicopters approached and soon took up position on their six o'clock and soon began signaling them that they were flying in restricted airspace and needed to land immediately. Not wanting to upset the locals he did as he was told and look the air speeder down to a nice quite warehouse area. Quite and karking filthy. From here on out it looked like they would be ground crawlers and free to enjoy the decrepit state of the city up close.

 

[Joza Perl]

“You mean that there’s more of you?” Joza’s brows rose and she looked as if she didn’t quite believe [member="3X744"]. Waving the notion off, she remained relatively silent as they traveled closer to the cityscape, likely distracted by observing the towering smokestacks of factories as they billowed thick smoke into the air and onto the city below. Her features scrunched in disgust, even moreso as they were corralled by a pair of native aircraft. Thankfully they didn’t seem hostile, or else they would have gotten a half-full glass bottle thrown at them.

“Beautiful place.” Joza muttered, rubbing her face as they landed near a dusty old warehouse. “Paradise City’s got nothing on this feth hole.” A thoughtful look crossed her face, and she broke into a grin. “Hey! After this, we should go to Zeltros. You can meet my friends!” Her friends being scantily clad pink skinned girls, of course. Really, she’d much rather be there than…ugh, here.

Her face fell as she looked out onto the streets though, finding everything more unpleasant now that they were up close. “We should probably stick together, and close.” Letting her eyes fall closed, the Knight drew in a slow breath as she extended her senses to the area around them. Reopening her eyes, she shifted her gaze to her two comrades. “Be wary. There’s something about this place…” Her tone was low and firm, her eyes reflecting a level of clarity that hadn’t been there before. It would be the first time that Three and [member="Bryce Bantam"] would witness actual real serious Joza.

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

"There's a bunch of me!"

Say it loud. I'm a clone and I'm proud.

The appearance of the aircraft following them brought to mind that he hadn't brought any equipment for taking out aircraft. He could have packed a DC-15a in the backseat with him, but he got the feeling that maybe, right now, shooting stuff wasn't the answer.

Which, no worries. Eventually, everything boiled down to shooting stuff. The little clone trooper just had to bide his time.

In evidence to the fact that he'd grown up in soldier's barracks, the youngling didn't even blink at the feth-bomb the Pink Lady dropped. "At least its breathable," the youngling said, as he scrambled from out of the speeder. No all inhabited planets featured for human comfort in the same way. "I'll take this over Sullust any day."

No offense, Galactic Alliance. It was a lovely world, when viewed from the inside of a breath mask or hazard suit.

The young Mandalorian clone left Rawr the Wookiee to guard the speeder. Which was a very important responsibility for a plush toy and young private in this clone's army. He stayed quiet as the Pink Lady spoke again. She seemed worried about something, but... there weren't hundreds upon hundreds of clone troopers shooting at them, and there weren't hundreds of Weequay or whatever else the Hutts had working for them shooting at them, so... this was actually an improvement over most times a Jedi had said those words to him.

[member="Joza Perl"] | [member="Bryce Bantam"]​

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

"Won't bite you back?"

Odd set of criteria for a hunt. What was he hunting? Vegetables? "Where's the fun in that?" the boy tossed back, glancing up with an enigmatic smile as the two made their way along the road. The boy idly wondered if the two might not cross paths with [member="Sam Silver"]. Though, he had every expectation that they'd hear her coming long before they saw her.

The question of what he was doing in the Outback almost elicited a laugh. Did it seem so strange for a Jedi to be wandering around in the proverbial wilderness? He supposed there was some thought that he could have been anywhere else. Battling the Sith in the Core Worlds, perhaps. Now, there was stalemate if ever there'd been one. The Sith struck, the Jedi struck back. It was all a self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts by this point. Even if one destroyed the other, the two were so intricately linked by their histories that neither existed in isolation. Thus, if the Jedi defeated the Sith - or vice versa - the other group would inevitably spring back into being.

All things in time.

"A better question might be, why wasn't I here to begin with," Sor-Jan answered cryptically. As the two reached the outskirts of the town, the boy paused at what appeared to be a public comm booth in order to look up a directory and search for a library. "I was once a Jedi Archaeologist. I studied and surveyed the Outer Rim for years. Before the dark times. Before the Clone Wars..."

Tracing through the directory, the boy's finger seemed to land upon something of interest. With a nod, he motioned for the doctor to follow. "Back then, the maps didn't come out this far," the youth stated. They still didn't, in point of fact. Their little band would be drawing the maps for others to follow out here. Though, that would take time. The boy was an anthropologist, not a cartographer. He could pull the data easily enough, but [member="Jorus Merrill"] he wasn't.

"And you, Doctor Robinson, what brings you here?"

[member="Matthew Robinson"]​

 

[Matthew Robinson]

[member="Sor-Jan Xantha"]

"Before the Clone Wars, blimey....just how old are you?"

It wasn't like he was asking a girl that, so it wasn't as rude. Dark-brows furrowed. Dutifully, he followed. Matt just hoped he wasn't barmy for it. With a final chew, he swallowed the ginger-mint leaf. Spicy-fresh.

Hazel gaze cut down to the shorter, ancient being.

"Me? I was buggered of wars. Still finishing off my residency, I was shipped off to Balmorra and Ruusan. The first Ruusan invasion. Saw enough of it."

Thoughts strayed to his recent volunteer work with the Galactic Alliance. Fighting another One Sith member. He still wasn't sure why he agreed to that...

A shrug rippled through his curved-shoulders.

"Plus I have a feth ton of school loans to pay off." His crooked teeth flashed in a grin. But maybe he had more in common with Sor-Jan than he originally thought. Being a combat medic really made peace look like a pipe dream.