We Put the Grr in Guerrilla Warfare

[Aver Brand]

Her breath was quick, timed to the pounding of her feet against the indifference of ferrocrete beneath her boots.

Wham. Wham. Wham.

The steel on her soles scraped against the rough surface as she breezed around the corner. Too fast. With a last-ditch attempt, the woman transferred her sprint from the ground to the wall, much to the protest of gravity. A few shocked and affronted screams echoed from below as the figure sped past, disturbing the precarious balance of crime and ignorance that ruled eternal on Point Nadir. Ruffled feathers and ruined hairdos were all that remained in her wake as she launched into an opposite rail, fingers latching onto the metal as if it were a lifeline to a drowning man.

Moments later, Aver pulled herself over in a single fluid motion, landing heavily on the hood of an innocent speeder before vaulting off towards the other side of the pad.

Wham. Wham.

She heard a yell of protest as she gained height over the roof of another vehicle – presumably it was the owner complaining – before jumping off into the chasm on the other side, coat billowing behind her to truly capture the feel of a second-rate action holovid.

What followed was the sound of exertion, coupled with the groaning of metal. It merged together into an awful cacophony that stood out against the background of human suffering and consumption; the theme song of the station.

It was over as soon as it had begun, with Aver pulling on top of the speeder that had served as a break for her fall. A crazy smile slowly spread across her features as she lay panting on the chipped red lacquer in the zooming traffic, seemingly unconcerned with the proximity of other vehicles.

Wham.

Her heart hammered against her ribs for a final time before settling back down into a calmer rhythm, similar to the one it took on when she was cleaving through hordes of opponents.

Good old times.

[member="Loray Tares"]​

 

[Loray Tares]

He let out a groan as he ran, obscured by the helmet and the slit vision of his cold stare. Moving quickly behind her, he was overcome with the odd sense. Confusion. Why would she be avoiding these pedestrians, why would she be moving to minimize her impact? Why? He could feel a sense of anger boil over, coupled with a despair that entropy wasn't being given it's due. Cutting hard upon near impact with a tall male, Loray pushed his fist hard into his chest. If focused, truly focused, he might have perceived that threshold between life and death. But between the steel and the feeling of separation between he and his arm, there was nothing there but the recoil. The man smacking hard against the duracrete, tumbling behind Loray and withering into a pile of meaningless flesh. As he had always been.

Point Nadir was a place of fond remembrance, a foul reminder of the past brought to his knees before them. And the exploits that followed, violence and gore and everything that was right and wholesome in the universe. The thing people should have embraced, the thing they turned away from. As he skittered past a woman and her child, granting reprieve from the reciprocity inherent in the universe, he opined on the inherent sadness of a universe that strayed away from it's natural tendencies. Civilizations were meant to turn on one another. It was the same song, played over and over, the chords all on repeat.

The rail that Aver once clung to, Loray vaulted over in a single jump. The speeder he crashed upon found dented hood were perfect frame once stood. Careening down in a dive, he moved away with a jump that further forced the offset trajectory, as it flung into the railing and bounced hopelessly against the surface. A spectacular twirl and collision. Wonderful.

Following in her wake, he continued to press towards her, enticed by the challenge of the chase. But unsure of their destination, he reveled in the lack of complacency that moved him. And as landed gently on the roof of the vehicle she was now attached, he decided with an odd surge of animosity that this wasn't over.

Black tendrils of darkness coiled from the luster of his armor, breath fogging up the helm as the red band of his vision looked down to his companion. And how she seemed spent. And how he wasn't ready for that. Letting out a deep growl, he knelt and punched hard against the surface, knocking the vehicle free from it's intended path.

[member="Aver Brand"]​

 

[Aver Brand]

She barely had time to utter a fond "Motherkarker." before [member="Loray Tares"] slammed them out of trajectory, sending their temporary – and decidedly unwilling – ride towards the other traffic lane.

Wasting no time, the woman flipped over with the borrowed momentum, arm shooting out as she went overboard to latch onto the hardened metal frame of the door. With a groan of protest, the structure bowed out and deformed under the unrelenting grip of her fingers, sending the vehicle into an unceremonious barrel roll. A resounding snap signaled the surrender of the door and sure enough, the side was flown open with Aver still attached, catapulting her back up and between the rushing speeders as she finally released the hold.

One of the passing skycars nearly took her head off, but she twisted her torso to the side at the last second, angling back to plant her feet sloppily against the bulk of the vessel. Her reinforced boots dug in hard, leaving dents in the metal as she pushed off a breath later. Up and up and up she went, sailing over the rest of the lane and towards a nearby spire that stood tall out of the gray and red smoke far below.

Softening her landing with a hard roll over her left shoulder, the woman staggered to a stop a few moments later as she drew up flush against a cooling unit installed on the roof. Only a timely interruption of her outstretched hands stopped her from meeting the side face-first, saving her from a nasty case of a broken nose.

"Come on, bastard! Don't tell me you're getting old!" she called out as she turned back around, resting her head against the unit with a blood-flavored smirk.

 

[Loray Tares]

He smiled, enjoying the more vulgar side of her.

As his punch hit the protective casing of the vehicle, armor clad fingers wrapped around metal. Enhancements, both biological and cybernetic, pushed insurmountable strength through his grip, as he held on through the twirl. A tilt of his head signaled a moment of reflection, looking at the woman as he waited with bated breath. To see what she would do next, catapulting away from the barreling vehicle. The metal of the frame, twisting beneath his grip, sheared away from the frame, sending him hurling away.

He let out a hushed grunt as he collided with the door of another speeder, caving in the frame and sending it ricocheting into another speeder before spinning down into the lower levels of traffic. Loray tasted precious moments of a spiraling free fall before hitting the roof of another vehicle with a planted knee. Instantly, he punched through the roof, gripping the head of the driver and squeezing ever so slightly. The force poured out of him, whips of tendrils lashing out at the air as he craned his neck from a skyline view, down to driver. A statue of steel, armor groaning, as he forced his presence against the man.

Up.

Without pause, the vehicle took a reckless tilt upwards, ascending through oncoming traffic and dodging with cuts to the left and rolls to the right. Until the trajectory was simply straight up, Loray laid his cold stare upon the woman and how she seemed to caress a cooling unit. Jumping away from the vehicle, he let his grip linger long enough to euthanize the driver, sending the vehicle plummeting back into the traffic below. And as he landed on the rooftop with a crunch of duracrete beneath his step, he let loose the grip he had of the sheared metal. Tinking and rattling to the ground.

Motherkarker? Not that I know of.

He began a slow, methodical walk towards her. Always closing the distance. But in truth, he was hoping she'd take off running again. If she were so intent on avoidng damage, he would cause it twofold. Just for compensation. He was nothing if not considerate.

[member="Aver Brand"]​

 

[Aver Brand]

It seemed that only moments had passed, and again he was upon her, closing the distance with the gait of a confident predator.

Playing with your food, are you?

Her gaze was challenging as she tilted her chin up a notch, ice clashing with the crimson slit bisecting the metal slate of his visor. Unfeeling, impassive, blank. They'd traded roles, in a sense. She did the staring, and the grins, and the threats, and it was his turn to stand by motionless and do his best impression of an idling god of death.

But today, you're on a rampage.

"Kark that," she chuckled, hoarse, and peeled smoothly off the metal at her back, flowing with an agility that hadn't been seen outside a traning room for several long years. There was no heavy chitin on her back, no boots weighing down her legs. In a sense, it was freeing, this silent exchange. Had they ever agreed to do it? Not that she remembered. It had simply happened, gradually, like all natural things in life do.

"The day I pop one out is the day I die," she said with some force, applying the same to the unit behind her with an unclenching of the fists at her sides. The last word stood emphasized by the ghost of her rapid movement as she pushed off and into [member="Loray Tares"], tackling him forward as they sailed over the edge.

 

[Loray Tares]

He'd return the same answer he had given, prior to that anti-climactic procedure aboard the ship. The same way he looked at her, longing and hungry, filled to the very brim with anger, he reciprocated with a tilt of the head.

Playing with my food...always.

Too distracted, too busy thinking about ripping her limb from limp limb, all waiting for it to regrow to the sound of a groan. He watched her approach, the push off the cooling unit, but it didn't seem to register. Not in time, not fast enough to keep him from staggering back and flinging backwards over the edge. But not before he planted claws at the small of her back, digging through fabric and into flesh, anchoring himself to her and wrapping around her tightly.

One vehicle whizzed by, and then another. The sound of a horn blared through the helmet as Loray made no effort to move, to re-position and avoid damage. Not until it came with a clank of armored metal against the tin scraps they called vehicle hood panels.

"Ahhhhhhh!"

Was it a sound of pain? Perhaps a metallic sound of ecstasy? Either way, he removed his fingers from flesh just in time to lift up upon impact, digging into the grill. He would have bounced otherwise but instead simply spun from the force, clawing at the undercarriage with feet and free hand, trying to find purchase. But the force of his hit was too much and the vehicle dipped forward. Red vision turned upwards upon twirling descent, looking to where she may have deflected. Down into traffic once more.

[member="Aver Brand"]​

 

[Aver Brand]

A pleased hiss clawed its way out between her sharp teeth, torn to shreds by the white points as it disappeared into the polluted air passing them by. The embrace would never qualify as loving to anyone but them, the pair – trio – of someones just a bit too broken, just a bit too crazy and cold to ever be fixed.

Not that they'd want to be, anyway. Not when being this was so much more fun than the conventional lives led by the rest of the Galaxy.

slam

Her world danced, painted red as warmth blossomed down her back, slicked with the slow ooze of her blood. It was escaping through the long claw-marks left in the wake of [member="Loray Tares"] and his gentle touch. She watched him skid down the treacherous slope of the car's hood, his fall finally stopped at the front of the speeding vehicle.

She remained on roof of the vessel, keeping watch of her struggling counterpart even as she swung inside through the passenger's window, knocking the driver out on the other side with a well-aimed kick to the jaw. His head snapped back like the one madly bobbing on his armature, and then he vanished into the greedy chasm below the traffic lanes, spared the terror of a slow fall through the wide nothing by the dubious mercy of a broken neck.

Aver was nothing if not graceful.

Sidling over to the driver's seat, the woman grasped the steering wheel and nosedove after the falling corpse, twisting left and right erratically to avoid head-on impact with the other vehicles. Not because she'd mind a collision, really, but because he was still clinging to the front of her speeder, and she'd hate to turn him into mince.

At least not like this.

Having fun out there, dear?

 

[Loray Tares]

He clawed upwards, one arm after another, before laying sights on the sliver of ice chips staring back at him through the windshield. And the words spoken through hushed thoughts. Planting one hand deep into the grill, he looked over his shoulder, towards the oncoming traffic. Well, they weren't particularly oncoming, but the duo was intent on involving everyone unfortunate enough to be in their proximity. Letting out a laugh as he felt the phantom tethers of hair flapping behind him, now stifled by the masked visage, he lifted his right hand upwards and towards the woman.

Four fingers curved towards the palm, the thumb standing erect and towards the sky above the speeder.

Proud hood ornament, far happier than he would be simply tangoing on a roof top for things to end as they always did. Though he had no doubt they would get there soon enough. Retracting his arm to his chest, he punched the hood of the vehicle with his free hand. Grunting, he yanked the metal free and flung it towards a passing speeder. Knocking the rider off with a sound of a surprised screech, Loray watched with distracted focus as the rag-doll tumbled down and more down, only to be struck by another vehicle. Painting the metal in a clumsy coat of red.

Turning his attention back to the vehicle, he leveled a hard stare towards the woman before started wailing on the engine. Each hit denting the manifold. Steam, quickly followed by fire, began their own form of applause for the man, billowing in the wind that passed them. Just then, he could feel the engine firing off and on, dying slowly beneath his grip.

[member="Aver Brand"]​

 

[Aver Brand]

Down down down through the metal thicket of fire-spewing exhausts and thin sheets of alloy they went, spiraling more and more out of control as [member="Loray Tares"] bore down on the wheezing engine of their beleaguered vehicle. It never stood a chance against the ire his direct focus brought with it, and Aver knew him well enough not to even bother trying to pry him off. When he wanted to, he could be like a grossly overgrown tick, holding on with the bottomless greed she'd given to them both.

It was an infection, really, this pursuit of destruction that burned inside them, and it was slowly spreading, all-consuming, and final. Were there a cure, twisted creatures like them would have long been eradicated from the face of the Galaxy.

Leaving the vessel to the inevitable grasp of gravity, the firrerreo vaulted over onto the backseats before punching out the rear window of the plummeting speeder. Clambering onto the trunk through the following shower of glass, Aver left a mess of bloody handprints on the white paint as she struggled for purchase.

Exit left, she notified her partner in crime with a grin, then promptly released her hold.

The landing would be very nearly bone-splintering, were it not for the rybcoarse lining her muscles. With the impact cushioned and redistributed even more efficiently, Aver was able to push off into a roll to lessen it even further. Finally, she stumbled back to her feet, coming face-to-face with a shocked group of spacers frozen with their hands halfway to their sidearms.

"Hi."

Aver ran a hand through her hair, realizing a second too late that her palm was still riddled with lacerations from the brief encounter with the window of the hovercar. She probably looked like a psychopatic murderer, which – while not exactly inaccurate – probably wasn't the best way to introduce herself to a contingent of what passed as guards here on Nadir.

"And who the kark are you?" The tallest of the group shoved himself to the front, his glassy black eyes inscrutable. Damned Rodians.

"An excellent question, which I'll answer in a moment." She flashed them a wild smile, her gaze flickering to the gray-red skies above. The skies filled with speeders, smoke, and yes, a falling suit of armor inhabited by a man ten times as crazy as her.

 

[Loray Tares]

Blood hued vision spied the woman moving through the vessel, armored hands working their magic to turn functioning thing back into carcass. The speed didn't halt, gravity was dug in deep now. All that was left was the final collapse, the soul crushing collision of metal against duracrete. Her words, taught and corded silk slithering through his mind, indicated a plan to abandon this particular ship. Head tilting back, he looked towards the ground rushing towards him. An old friend, waiting for embrace, he flexed hard as fingers clawed beneath the stomach of the speeder. With every heave, bolts flung loose, slowly releasing the manifold and attached exhaust system. Until, like a persistent dentist, the item yanked free and sent him and the metal jettisoning hard away from the vehicle.

Just as the ship landed in a blast of energy and fire, Loray came flailing violently towards the ground. With a single twirl and the power of the force pushed back towards him. With the armor, the cybernetics enhancements, and the mystical power beaten into submission, he found footing in a heroic landing that crunched duracrete before his new weight. Pain shot through his whole body and he growled in response, gaze looking towards the ground and the impact. He might have broken something if it weren't for those enhancements, all the packages installed along the skeletal frame. As if every portion of his armor was resisting his movement, he lifted his head towards the group. Metal held to the fire, began to comply and become malleable, with the hushed roar of metal forced to bend when it'd rather remain stiff.

The remnants of the speeder rested in his left hand, armored fingers crunching into it as his force poured through it. Black and red tendrils cut across the air, whipping and spiraling around the makeshift weapon, iron held to the flame, as it echoed with moans in the shift of it's physical features. It wasn't simply a change in aura, it was a change in purpose and physical nature. A side arm lifted to fire a single slug in his direction. Knocking his head back, the projectile deflected from head and sent a hole through a speeder above. Tilting back forward, he batted the end of the exhaust pipe against his free hand, threateningly.

"Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh." Another shot was flicked away with the imbued item, moving faster than it should have, as he charged on the sails of force speed, cybernetic enhancements, and a self indulgent need to cut a bloody path through anything that stood in his way.

[member="Aver Brand"]​

 

[Aver Brand]

The first blood sizzled through the air just as she threw herself sideways, and just as that plummeting suit of armor made itself known with a loud CRACK.

Plumes of smoke and dust danced around them all as Aver scrambled to her feet, knife already in hand as she went to circle around the group. Their focus had shifted to the new arrival, covered in soot and glinting metal – was that blood? – and encased in ribbons of serrated red and black, crawling along his body and towards the arm clutching what remained of their temporary transport.

Understandably, they were preoccupied with the vision from hell incarnate before them. Understandably, they made only small, insignificant noises of woe when her blade sank into their flesh, sliding between ribs through armpits and clavicles and oh, prying vertebrae apart like Rev used to do with the hardened peel of Mandalorian oranges.

Her third victim, bleeding profusely onto her shirt – through her shirt – quickly became her shield as [member="Loray Tares"] came barreling through the scattering flock of guards, knocking them back like bowling ball would to pins, were it shot from a proton cannon.

The word 'overkill' flickered at the edges of her mind as she withdrew her weapon from the dying man, shoving him onto the rest of the broken pile.

"How about some spring cleaning?"

Her voice was playful, but those cold eyes were serious as they found the crimson red slit of his visor. In a few seconds, they will have wrapped up the gasping and panting business on the floor, doing away with the few guards that were still breathing. A generous term, guards, but they were wearing the colors of the main faction on Nadir. Some minor Hutt lord who'd usurped control in the power vacuum they had created all those months ago.

His word was law, or so he liked to think.

Too bad neither of them had any respect for the law left.

 

[Loray Tares]

A bowling ball, the size of a wrecker. Main difference is that a piece of equipment had purpose and this armored figure was absent it all. He was simply an administrator now, a purveyor of a sense of dread swiftly cut down with the slash, quickly followed by silence. Or a bludgeoning. Whichever suited his purpose.

The first, whom he met with a fiery glance, tried his best to unload his ammunition, white knuckled trigger finger digging into the guard as bullets left the barrel. But Loray had empowered himself now, moving beyond the capabilities of the man to follow. To understand. Before he could reload, the muffler was dug deep into the chest. Through flesh and bone and organs and back out, Loray tilted back and pulled the man upwards and away from the ground. Spurt of red and the silent sound of gurgling escaped the mans lips as he slid down the chrome pipe. Trail of blood following behind.

The armored man let out a hushed exhalation, the ectasy of release as he tilted the pipe forward. With the man at level with the ground, Loray pressed his foot against his shoulder and kicked him, sliding him back off the pipe. Getting frustrated with the corpses resilience to be oh so clingy, he flung it and the pipe away to pursue new forms of mayhem. With a slow stalk towards the last of the figures, he just barely understood the words spoken by his companion. No, he was far too busy to respond.

Armored fingers wrapped around the mans forehead, just as he pulled a knife and stabbed at the armor. It broke into pieces, bouncing metal off the duracrete. Loray let out another hiss as he applied the cybernetics packaged, along side his prosthetic arm, as he revealed the true application of strength. A trash compactor couldn't have done better as bone and brain and blood was pancaked between two extended palms. As the body went limp with a seizure, he released it, bits of gore and flesh still stuck to his fingers.

Rolling his fingers against one another, feeling the sticky grime, he turned his vision over his shoulder to Aver. Flicking away bits of gray matter from his hand, he smeared the blood across his chest and gave a nuanced expression of entertainment. Laughter, resonating through metal.

[member="Aver Brand"]​

 

[Aver Brand]

"Well, then."

In the white noise of crime and mediocrity, another lifeless body crumpled to the ground. Aver watched with vague disinterest – just because Loray's visage was so very familiar in comparison – counting the stretched-out seconds it took for the oozing blood to reach the edge of the walkway and start dripping into the hell below.

"Come on," she spoke softly, turning away from the grisly mess without a shred of regret. Long strides carried her quickly past a dingy joint serving Huttese fast food, and the stirring hunger in her stomach almost made her stop in her tracks. The smells were enticing, and after the workout they'd just had, Aver could barely resist the temptation to scarf down a rare bantha steak or two.

Later, she reminded herself sternly and averted her gaze. The trash wasn't going to take itself out.

"The Hutt's name is Wususk Peijilic. He's buried to his eyeballs in the arms running business. Big guns, too. I hear he even sells cheap knock-offs of Houk & Herglic that misfire in your face. With those angry customers coming back for a refund, you gotta be prepared. And he is, the fat schutta. A frakking personal army, guarding his palace at all times."

Shaking her head, the woman sidestepped a caravan of muzzled and chained beasts being prodded along by a group of Gamorreans with shockspears. Further along the busy alleyway, Aver could see a conflict brewing between the owner of an overturned cart and the perpetrator of the crime, with a jeering crowd already gathering around them.

Intent on avoiding what would surely spiral into a violent incident in a matter of seconds, the woman quickly pulled them down a side street full of beggars and marauders preying on their next victim. The trouble of the common passerby was distinguishing between the two, but most thugs inhabiting these slums had retained enough of their beastly instincts to know that the pair were not to be trifled with.

Shoving past an over-zealous street vendor, the firrerreo finally emerged into the technicolor magnificence of the Souk, crouching just in time to save herself from a faceful of some exotic dish. The origin of the edible projectile yelled a string of slurs in Huttese over the sizzling pans laid out on his stall. As if she were in a shockball match, Aver craned her neck to the other side to watch with unbridled amusement as the intended victim wiped the scalding broth from his face. The Rodian returned the insults as good as he got before slinging a plate of freshly fried bugs back at the Trandoshan on the right.

Seizing the momentary ceasefire lent to them by a passing group of Peijilic guards, Aver ducked to the left and past the brewing commotion, convinced that [member="Loray Tares"] would be fast on her heels.

The rest of their journey was largely uneventful after that, partly due to the fact that the trade day was already winding down. Merchants and spacers were packing up their goods, alive or otherwise, rushing to catch their flight off the bustling station.

On a different day, Aver would be glad to get the Nether off that rock, but they still had business to conclude before they could go plague some other callous corner of the Galaxy.

"We could walk right through the front door, you know." The suggestion brought a smile on her lips as she observed the bored guards at the entrance. "We're tame. Weaponless. Hapless babes, really."

All they needed was their hands.

 

[Loray Tares]

Soft words spoken, following a massacre. By standard definitions, simply another outing for those who were accustomed to such display. This place was no different, treating the festering wound with that viscous ooze of red and black. And as Loray felt the sticky residue of slick crimson across his chest, it slowly faded to platy char, forming a fresh coating for the armor.

He followed her in stride, step by step, as they passed a little joint smelling of cooked meats and heaving seasoning. The sort of foreign delicacy that might burn the uninitiated. If he hadn't known better, he would have assumed that she was going to stop, grab a bite to eat. Maybe the sounds of vehicles and caravans drowned out the sound of her stomach growling, chorus to the aching sound of his armor as it resisted his movement. A clawed hand moved to his shoulder as he pulled the warden cloak over, concealing the smears of blood.

He got the distinct impression of stepping on egg shells as they diverted their movement through the main street, walking down a damp alley way littered with the sort of scum that gets stuck on the metal grates of a drain after a heavy rain. Dirty, scampering about with eyes darting from ground to eye level and back again. Loray slowed his step as he followed behind Aver, making his presence known as he moved closer to these beggars. Just enough pressure to feel them crumble beneath his hardened stare, waiting for one who didn't turn away. An appropriate medium for his anger. But there was nothing but cowardice and disappointment, like they were known in this place. He could almost taste the beads of sweat and stench of fear that emanated from unkempt beards and yellow teeth.

As they entered the facility, Loray was right on her heels. Enough so that if he wanted, he could have simply reached out and grabbed her. This seemed the sort of place where that sort of public display might have gone unnoticed. Fighting in the streets wasn't exactly the best way to go about turning him gentle, roused by unneeded violence and displays of strength. Blood on the streets, violence in the sheets. And just when he was fully considering that proposition, he instead found himself staring down the entrance of this new location. A couple of guards, looking overly bored, and a certain red head whispering sweet nothings in his ear. He gave his undivided attention to the guards, listening to her as if it were active guidance.

Once satisfied that these figures were nothing more than glorified statues, he turned his head towards Aver with a tilt. Through the front door. Wrapping his fingers against one another, he bent them back and cracked the knuckles before slowly stepping out and heading towards the entrance. Upon closing in, he was stopped just as he imagined he would be. An outstretched arm placed against the plate of his armor and the wrap of the cloak.

"No admittance, bounty hunter."

Must have been the armor. Reaching up with all the enhancements he had, fingers wrapped around assaulting limb and crunched down. Even from where Aver was standing, over all the hustle and bustle, she might have heard the crack. And then the unnatural twist of the arm outwards, the step in, the hard punch to the stomach. The other guard, unassaulted, equipped a stun baton and swung it towards Loray. With a simple maneuver, the crippled guard was down and the free hand caught the non striking surface of the baton.

A kick down with his right foot cracked the knee of the attacker, sending him to the ground in a yelp. Pulling the baton away, Loray wrapped each hand around a throat and gripped tight enough to lift. And with a spin, he threw both bodies through the dual set of wooden doors, breaking them from the hinges and caving them in. He knelt, clapping his hands together, as he grabbed the baton and stepped forward, placing one foot into the darkened corridor.

A whistle escaped the mouth of his helmet.

[member="Aver Brand"]​

 

[Aver Brand]

Bounty hunter. Ha!

Aver snorted, correctly predicting the fate that the guard met not a second after. She approached undeterred even as the other passersby fled in the opposite direction, turned away by the bout of intense, gory violence. Even on Point Nadir – or perhaps especially on Point Nadir – people reacted to such displays of aggression with vicious prejudice; the instincts of the creatures that inhabited these streets were far more honed than those of civilized sentients. They were closer to beast than man on their best days, and when they smelled blood, they knew to look for the one who spilled it before they came any closer.

[member="Loray Tares"]’ armored frame, full with a coat of red and a coat of leather, was enough to make even the most seasoned of predators think twice.

“Nice work,” the woman quipped as she brushed past him, prying the other baton from the guard’s lifeless grasp.

Before they’d made it twenty feet into the building, a shrill alarm cut through the din of the station, accompanied by a pulsing red light.

“I guess they know we’re here,” Aver said with a distinct lack of concern, stepping around her companion just as a group of Trandoshans burst out through the door on her right. Their first few shots would thus hit the gleaming phrik coating Loray’s body instead of her own flesh, and those precious seconds would be enough.

Drawing herself in, the woman exploded forward and past the man as the trio of guards were taking stock of the damage, shoving the first one bodily into the wall. A series of sickening cracks marked the snap of his spine, reducing him to a sack of meat that she swung around with barely any effort at all. His bulk served well to knock the second man to the ground, burying him under its dead weight as she smashed the business end of the baton through his skull and into the floor.

The last Trandoshan she would generously leave to Loray, eager to watch him work.

 

[Loray Tares]

Energy danced towards him, pretty little gleaming bolts of red in the dark. The first smacked him against the left shoulder as he staggered back, baton flung upwards with a spin to knock the others away and into the ceiling. Dust shook free from the metal beams holding whatever material it was that housed this place. And just as he let out a growl, Aver moved passed him in the heat of the moment. Cacophony of cybernetics and sinew racing with an edge, the last sounds he would hear before engaging was the smashing sound of skull beneath melee weapon. Wet and slippery, with a side of crunch, like punching a puddle of mud and rocks.

The last Trandoshan, the last stand in the hallway of black and red, and Loray could feel the shiver along the spine as he moved forward. Air thick with iron, with the salty humidity of a sweatshop, he clicked the baton on with a single stride. Force aura pouring out, the chaos and entropy of his current persona wrapped the striking surface with fatal intent. Blue electricity and madness, he spun the baton forward along its axis, smacking the next shot away. It was all he needed to clear the distance, swinging down against the Trandoshan. A block with the rifle left a gaping dent in the firing chamber, creating a joint in the metal where it wasn't needed.

With a step back, Loray kicked off the energy, leaving only his force presence to bolster the weapon. All that was needed as the Trandoshan equipped a small baton version of the weapon. More mobile and concealable, less capable in a straight fire. With a flick of the wrist, the baton was out of the guards hand. Enough to distract, enough time for Loray to move forward and jab with the baton. Hitting him directly in the teeth, the Trandoshan was dazed and driven to the ground, pinned by the weapon held against his face. And before he could come to, the ignition was hit and the electric charge blasted outwards, pulsing with blue and white lights. Body dancing on the ground, marionette with strings held by an epileptic master, Loray pressed his weight against the weapon. That salty smell, the odor of cooking soft pallet, was all that was needed to bring a smile to the mans face.

Satisfied with the level of death that far surpassed any threshold, he clicked off the energy and retracted the weapon. He pressed his foot against the corpses chest, freeing the baton from the fleshy grip of the concave face, before looking towards Aver. Perhaps a bit more effort than what was needed. But Loray prided himself in his work ethic.

[member="Aver Brand"] ​

 

[Aver Brand]

By the time her companion was finished, Aver could’ve rolled, lighted, and smoked a cigarette. Perhaps two, if she were fast. Aver, however, did not smoke, and so she instead busied herself first with perusing the holonet for blueprints of the palace, and then the darknet, when the former failed to produce any useful results.

Finally, the woman lifted her gaze from the datalogger on her wrist to carefully map their immediate surroundings. With a triumphant grin, she placed them correctly, let the device calculate their optimal route, and looked away just in time to watch [member="Loray Tares"] yank his baton from the remains of what one might hazard used to be a Trandoshan’s porcine face.

Though she couldn’t see it, the firrerreo could well feel the satisfaction radiating off of the other mercenary, and this, in turn, made her smile just as well. Not as brightly, perhaps, but then again, she’d hardly killed the other two guards in such a spectacular fashion. Loray deservedly felt proud in his work.

“Pace yourself, Rev,” she murmured more to herself than her companion as she traced the path mapped out for them. There was a slight frown to her features, and it was deepening by the second.

She closed the display with a huff, slicked back her hair, and grinned.

“The fastest way is through, right?”

Somehow, she knew he wouldn’t object. Where violence was involved, he rarely did.

With no time to lose, Aver quickly affixed some explosives to the wall directly opposite and sought out effective cover before detonating the thing with a resounding BOOM that shook the very plaster off the walls. When the smoke cleared, the pair found themselves face-to-face with a mess hall full of people in various states of shock, terror, or death.

While no longer in His Darkness’ employ, the former Appendages still knew how to make a stylish entrance. Just like riding a bike.

 

[Loray Tares]

​The explosion, the sight of all those who stood slack jawed at their tables, it brought an odd arrhythmia to his chest. The aroma, the stench, amalgamation of sweat and fear and poorly cooked food. Do it. The soul saber nestled deep within the vong tendons of his arm, it spoke to him with a muted whisper. Confounded by the disconnection of the force, it was but sweet nothings sent along the nerves, a tickling sensation at the back of his throat. The way the people didn't react to the wall caving in, to their presence, or the way the baton vibrated with electricity. There was never a fruit more ripe for the picking.

Stepping over the half assembled wall, he flicked the power off once more and moved quietly through the rows of tables. He could feel the weapons presence now, hungry for those who were capable of feeding it, and the animosity that could consume poured out of it and from his clenched black fingers. Sharpened nails hidden behind phrik armor and overlays, laced with cybernetics and combat suites, and yet he felt the urge for the mouth to open. To vomit out the weapon, to destroy those who now looked upon him and began to stand.

The first man that approached did so equipped with a stagger. The sort that drew memories of corpses brought to life beneath the whims of a spider. And before he could clear the distance, the unnamed Togorian fell over and ejected what food he had consumed moments prior. The aroma was revolting, filling the rebreather of the mask as Loray looked down towards him with a crimson gaze of loathing distaste. Disgusted, that was his current state.

Touching the baton against the ground, he flicked the power on before uppercutting the Togorian with a sideways backhand. Striking hard and with renewed power, the body left the ground and tumbled through flight before striking a table. Denting in the metal, knocking all the items over, the table flopped over and knocked other men aside. Loray could feel it now, the coil of the dragon hilt and the black and red aura pouring out from his very presence. Enveloping the armor and the baton, he felt a certain heat rise across his forehead. That loss of control, the feeling of desiring her blood on his hands among the ashes of Selvaris, he slowly craned his neck to survey the room. More.

The pawns and all their toys, they suddenly found their placing. And with the distance between him and Aver, the room of fighters suddenly converged upon him.

[member="Aver Brand"]​

 

[Aver Brand]

[member="Loray Tares"] didn’t have to be told twice.

In fact, he didn’t even have to be told once, descending upon the room of unsuspecting and largely helpless people like some space-age incarnation of Death. All metal limbs and red glow, with not a trace of humanity to be found anywhere in his remote vicinity.

The whole show would be rather interesting to watch, she presumed, but Aver had other business to attend to. She’d seen him slaughter everything from the weakest of men to the greatest of beasts, and had learned exactly how he went about it somewhere along the way. That is not to say that she’d grown bored of watching him work – she doubted that would ever happen – but they weren’t unlike those old married couples who start looking for pleasures outside of their relationship.

You know, to spice things up a bit.

Then again, they had [member="Matsu Xiangu"], and therefore all the spice any single life could take.

Smirking to herself behind a veil of messy red and black strands, Aver moved off to the side while her companion threw himself into the fray. Working with the serene expression of one who’d seen entirely too much battle to be bothered by it ever again, the woman attached a small device to a nearby terminal. It gave a soft beep and started working its magic while the firrerreo leaned over a nearby counter and poured herself a cup of steaming stimcaf.

It was only when the whole hall crowded the epicentre – Loray – that the redhead abandoned her post, her deceptive laziness morphing into blinding speed with no pause for breath.

What remained of her drink was utilized offensively to blind a fighter on the fringe of the writhing mess, sending him clawing at his face with a blood-curdling scream. It was cut off abruptly by the edge of a knife that materialized seemingly out of nowhere, dancing in her hand like a good friend.

Or an old lover.

Aver Brand broke someone’s arm, then punched out an incoming knee, following up with an elbow to an exposed back that sent its owner sprawling on the slicked floor with a resounding crack.

“Need a hand?”

 

[Loray Tares]

The convection of current, like wind being sucked out of the room, gave a subtle silence to the movement of the horde. Footsteps against metal, growling and heavy breathing, but Loray couldn't hear it. Except for the pulse of the baton in his hand as it twirled parallel to the floor. Clashing against a head first, the crunch of the jaw cut through the mute atmosphere. The first notes to a long song, the sort that began with violent death. Another mercenary, brain rattled just a bit too hard, sent flailing to the ground as Loray stepped to the left. The tribal symphony began, the sound of metal armor against floor, as he spun low and flicked the baton out. 1. 2. 3. 4. All crashing to the floor, dislocated knees and severed shins, the wails were still all too muffled to matter.

A lift of the chest as he spun high again, letting go of the baton as it launched into an oncoming foe. Somewhere between his chest and his head, something broke, leaving a dangling piece of flesh where the neck once existed. Crashing to the floor, Loray stood up and lifted his arms as another approached, shock baton in hand. The way it vibrated, the way it sung, it caught the Cyborg's eye. Just long enough for the chair to strike against his back, sending out an explosion of wood shrapnel and broken chair parts. He felt the boil rising, where fun was being had it was all too serious now.

Dropping his arms, he turned, diverting all attention from the shock baton. Laying hands on the throat of the chair wielder, he head butted the man hard. Like a shovel hitting soft clay, the man went limp beneath the hands of the master. Armored fingers crawled up the neck before finding resting position upon crown. Squeezing hard and slow, he felt the skeleton slowly give to the sound of gasps and wheezing pleas for mercy. But he couldn't hear anything now. There was only red.

The shock baton stabbed in at the back, enough to send a tickle down his spine as he ended the man within his grasp. He found it an odd revelation, hands soaking wet, just how much of the body was composed of fluid. Like flesh simply held together to contain it all, he punctured the top and pressed hard, regaled by the geyser. And with that sorted affair over, he turned on the shocker and grabbed the offending hand. The blackened arm punched inward, fast and hard, enough to dislocate the arm and cleave free the flesh that might grip on to the bone. Blood sprayed out, in volcanic spurts, as the shock baton dropped from the fingers and Loray was left with a severed limb and another dead opponent.

Looking down at the hand, he wrapped the fingers into a fist before sending his presence through it. The black and red enigma, the drenching stain of his force presence, coated the arm as he imbued it. As his gaze shifted from the limb back to Aver, he let the situation answer her question with an abundance of silence.

[member="Aver Brand"]​