Deathless
Metalorn
0133
The scene was bloody. Very. Bloody. There was a pile of bodies, slain horrifically. Some of them were low-life street thugs, but they were cleaved in half- singed at the wounds. Scorch marks all over the ground. Like an animal wielding the blade. One was specifically brutal- the Zabrak was impaled on a nearby divider, his body shoved through it with one fell swoop. Enough force to put his chest cavity through it. The detectives were horrified. This was apparently, a work of a Jedi, or a Sith. But this didn't fit any Sith MO, or any Jedi MO. Four hours earlier-
Thal rolled his hands into fists as he walked towards the group of gathered men. They met here, most nights, outside some dingy club to discuss business. They did it after they drank, then they talked about business, then they parted ways. They talked about drugs. About guns. And trading lives. Lives like Thal's. Thal sneered as he approached the first. The Zabrak. It was easy enough. The force gave him strength, flowed into him. It was easy to surprise the Zabrak, pick him up- the divider. The divider would meet a new paint color today. He impaled him on it with one movement. The unstable lightsaber crystal snapped and hissed, arcs of blue energy throwing out to the street now and again. He cut them down. Six of them. Cut them all down.
He deactivated the lightsaber. He had a lot more work to do. A lot more killing to do. He had to work ahead of the authorities- before they caught up to him. Before they stopped him, before they tried- at least.
[member="Sigrid Forsberg"]
