Chapter 90
LD1449
To the last; Kill them all
- Location
- The other side of the labyrinth.
Chapter 90:
Dennis:
"Sooooo… what's going on here?"
It was actually somewhat obvious what was going on, but he wanted specifics.
He probably should have been more clear, especially when Vicky answered with:
"Training, what's it look like?"
"For him, or you?" he asked. Gesturing towards Iskt he had to point out the obvious. "He hasn't taken a single swing at you this whole time."
Vicky had the decency to give a semi-nervous laugh. "Yeah. I know it seems weird, but kind of the point, really."
He gestured - his hand making a circular motion - urging her to go on.
"Soresu is a defensive lightsaber style," she explained. "We're using it to build up mah boy's endurance." She gave a cheeky smirk at the rather exaggerated 'mah boy' she slipped in there.
"Trandoshans," Iskt hissed. "Do not have ample reserves of energy. We tire quickly. Focusing on Soresu against Master Victoria burns my energy reserves."
"So, hold on." He shook his head. "Are you telling me, you wailing on him with lightsabers and making him block isn't so much a strength exercise as its fucking cardio?"
"It can be both," Vicky chirped.
She wasn't wrong, but the way the Trandoshan teen's muscles had been straining, pushing against Vicky's saber, looked more like a whole damn body exercise.
Then again, he was effectively pushing against 14 tons of force. Or however much Vicky was using to match his 'puny mortal teenager' strength.
Sure, as a Trandoshan he was probably as strong as a young human adult right now, but 14 tons was still something he wasn't gonna reach even when he was fully grown.
Master and student turned back to their training. "Again!" Vicky cried, and this time floated up off the ground. "I'm aiming to hit you this time, not just tire you out."
Iskt, without complaint, nodded, bracing himself, his hands tightening on the hilt of his oversized saber. He'd grow into it, Dennis knew. Right now, it was about as long as a cop's nightstick, the boy's two hands comfortably resting on the neck and near the pommel with a solid two inches of space between his hands.
When Vicky moved this time, she moved fast, a flurry of lightning strikes. The lightsaber didn't exactly need force behind each swing, but a physics-breaking Brute like Vicky, who didn't need a lick of leverage or actual force momentum to apply her strength, was no doubt delivering rock solid blows with every single swing as she flew around him like an angry, blue flashing buzzsaw.
Iskt's saber moved quickly, tight and controlled, but Dennis could see the instances where his defense buckled, when the boy stumbled and light burns appeared on his arms and legs where Vicky's blade, set to a high stun, grazed him.
Some of the Mandalorian Royal Guards paused what they were doing and turned to watch the spectacle. Rugess wandered close with a bag of snacks that he offered Dennis a bite of, which he accepted very readily as Iskt lashed out, fast as a viper, very nearly catching Vicky in the face before she pulled away at the very last second.
"Good! Very good," she complimented the boy.
All in all, it was an entertaining distraction, pulling him away from the niggling concern that was Ventress's absence at the moment.
They'd been on Nar Shaddaa for the better part of three days now and he'd mostly been sticking around the ship and the hangar bay, not wanting to risk wandering outside and being recognized. Rugess had done the same.
Ventress checked in once every six hours on the dot without fail. But that was still six hours in which something could go wrong. She had a tracker on her and Vicky said that she would 'sense it' if something went wrong and Ventress needed help, but that was cold comfort. A blaster bolt to the back of the head would kill you a lot faster than Vicky could fly her ass on down to wherever in bum-fuck nowhere Ventress was fighting.
The Mandalorian royals had also sent out their own feelers. With six on the squad, two were willing to go and search for clues on the Death Watch; they likely had a history on Nar Shaddaa or some underworld connections. Very few Mandos with combat experience didn't have some kind of history as mercs or enforcers, even the Royal Guard.
So it stood to reason they had some strings they could tug on.
The Jedi were remaining much more low key, keeping to the hangar bay just like he was.
He was pretty sure it was because Nar Shaddaa made them uncomfortable. Something about the Force being too loud here or something.
Even so, he was worried, he couldn't help it.
This was the worst fucking place in the galaxy for him and his crew, and the sooner he was off this rock the happier he'd be.
Ventress
It wasn't hard for her, slipping into the shadows of this wretched place.
In truth, it was like slipping on an old, well worn glove.
After… after Narek, after Rattatak, places like Nar Shaddaa were all she knew. All that was available to her.
Pirates, slavers, cutthroats, rapists and other monsters, they all found their way here, lured by the promise of money, violence, flesh or other vices. Nar Shaddaa and places like it had it all to one degree or another. You didn't even have to search very hard.
The Mandalorians though, Death Watch.
That was a more unique quarry.
Unique quarry, however, had unique 'wants'.
Dennis, given time, could no doubt find them. He played the fool well enough, but he was not a fool. She wouldn't be with him if he was.
The royal guards, however, were a hindrance. Too… loud. Too clumsy. Hannah would have been better off keeping her 'help'. They were dumb muscle at most. More likely than not their presence would give them away in a place like this.
Mandalorians stood out. Mandalorians with 'royal authority' even moreso.
Dallon… Dallon was another matter. The Jedi Master was powerful, of that Ventress had no doubt. She may have lacked subtlety, but she made up for it in sheer brute force. Even if Dennis hadn't regaled her with tales of what Dallon and Hebert could do back on his homeworld, the propaganda reels of her on the battlefront painted a good enough picture.
It rankled, admitting that she was outclassed by anyone, but Dallon… that was not a woman Ventress deluded herself into thinking she could defeat.
Still, Dallon's role was for later, when their enemies were finally found.
Her role came now. Finding them.
The Nikto Red sector was named such because the primary residents within this hab block were, in fact, Nikto. At least on the upper levels. A species corralled into an area, because the Hutts liked being able to find people easily if need be. If they needed a Nikto, they would send their enforcers here. And their slicers would hack into all other cameras if they tried to hide somewhere outside this sector.
A simple method for tracking people, but in a place so bloated with people like Nar Shaddaa, simple, blunt solutions were often times the most effective.
It also narrowed down her search area.
The Nikto, obviously, were not Mandalorian. That meant that the Mandalorians would stand out within this hab block to a laughable degree.
So, search around the Nikto sector. Its ancillaries, dependencies, the neighboring sub blocks and sectors.
Something had given Hannah a reason to send them here.
She continued her search, guided by her own deductions, instinct, and by the Force itself. Allowing it to guide her search.
If a handful of Nar Shaddaa's scum and imbeciles lost their teeth or use of their limbs along the way… well… that was just the cost of business, as the Hutts would say.
What Dennis and Dallon didn't know would hardly trouble them.
After almost three days, all of these things together led her inexorably towards the bowels of the hab block.
A place known simply as "The Grind".
A place where seemingly all the things even Nar Shaddaa considered 'trash' found its way towards. Falling down, down, down through the layers of grime and filth to settle amidst the rest of the detritus and filth - figuratively… and literally.
The Force shifted and shuddered in her senses. A disturbance. She didn't know if it was a warning or encouragement. It was too unclear, or Nar Shaddaa was simply far too loud to let her hear.
She held her comlink in her hand, contemplating calling Dennis and the others for the briefest of moments before pride stifled that thought.
How would it look, to call Dennis like a frightened child asking for an escort.
Her job was to find the Death Watch.
They were not found yet.
All she had was… belief…
She shook her head, scoffing at her own idiocy. The Death Watch were no threat to her, even if they somehow discovered her. She could fight them and escape a handful of up jumped mercs.
Ventress pocketed the communicator and descended down into the depths of the crime moon, the Force churning around her.
—
Komari Vosa
"What's the problem with it?"
"Power requirements." The old Mandalorian answered, cigarra between his teeth as he quietly typed away on his computer station. "For something this… small, we can't fit a reactor big enough to power it indefinitely. Even the biggest one we can safely fit onto the frame will only give us ten minutes of active use."
Ten minutes. That was an eternity in a fight, but considering Dallon could fly at nearly a hundred and fifty kilometers per hour, just reaching her might take ten minutes. And if she ever discovered the weakness, then it was as good as useless.
Yoshiro breathed out, a cloud of gray acrid smoke wafting out in front of his face. "We sent the specs to the Geonosians. The bugs have some engineering capabilities of their own. Apparently, they've found a solution from what I've heard. Not quite applicable to us, though."
"Oh? How so?"
His left hand reached out, clacking hard on a few keys before the image on the screens shifted. "Take a look." The old man grunted, not bothering to look up from his own work.
Komari leaned forward, reading over the schematics.
"Hah." She couldn't help the startled laugh. "A rather… unique solution. I can see why there aren't many of your men volunteering."
The old man huffed out a sound that might have been a laugh. "If the tech is out there, we'll find it. If it isn't, then we'll just fucking make it."
"You're planning on revolutionizing portable power technology on your own? You and your merry band of soldier rejects?"
"Too ambitious for a weekend side project?" He answered drily.
She snorted. In the few days she'd been here, she had to admit, she'd grown to enjoy the old man's dry wit. It was far more straightforward and… easy, compared to what Sidious enjoyed or found humorous.
She gave a closer eye to the schematics, reading the specifics the Geonosians had delivered in their blueprints.
"It says here they've only put one model in production."
"In all likelihood," The old man drawled, breathing out another plume of smoke. "They want to see if it even works first. No reason to dump that many resources in something untested."
True. The project was expensive. For the same amount of money the Geonosians could probably build an entire ship. Or another ten thousand battle droids.
A tingle ran down her spine…
She felt herself straighten.
The old man noticed. "Something wrong?" He asked.
She didn't answer for a moment.
Then, she stood up.
"Unlikely. We simply might have to deal with a pest problem."
He finally looked up from his work, eying her.
"Hmm. Take two of my men with you."
"That's not necessary." She shook her head, turning to leave.
She heard the charge of a blaster behind her, the high pitched whine ringing in her ears, and wondered if she could turn and slice off his head before he pulled the trigger.
"That wasn't a request."
She chuckled.
She was right in her original assessment. He would have made a fine Sith.
(X)(X)(X)
Ventress
The Grind was everything she imagined.
Filthy, run down. Forgotten.
If she were like these Mandalorians and she wanted to hide, she might have chosen this place too.
It didn't take her long to discover a trail. Whispers and rumors floated like a bad scent in the air.
One word caught her attention, however.
Jedi.
A Jedi had been here.
And that Jedi had killed quite a few people already.
Ventress tried to expand her senses, to see if she could find the culprit, but it was useless. Nar Shaddaa was too loud, too oversaturated with life and all its flows and currents. Too much to shift through. It was deafening, blinding.
But she was not quite so blind as to not notice someone following her before too long.
She pretended not to notice. She moved through the streets and the filth laden crowds. Moving through the bazaar, she bought food, a meat skewer of some kind in the stands. She could smell the alcohol, cheap and harsh, likely made with engine fuel in the bars nearby. Twi'lek slave girls shaking their asses for credit chips, hoping that a good groping was the worst of their nights.
And she kept pretending.
Walking, she chose her engagement place well. Somewhere open, somewhere she could maneuver if need be. Somewhere they thought they'd have an advantage.
When her hand snaked out, lightning quick, her prey barely had time to grab his blaster in surprise.
"Now, look what the cat dragged in." She purred, her saber lighting up with a snap-hiss. "So stupid." She laughed, a smirk crawling its way onto her lips as she slid her knee forward between his legs, like she was ready to knee him in the groin. "I should just get that bounty myself if you're going to make it this easy, you know. Before someone else cashes in instead."
Dennis smiled under his mask. "You'd miss me too much."
She brought her lit saber close to his face, leaning close to the other side to whisper in his ear. "Not at this range I won't."
He took the opportunity to fully pull the blaster out of its holster, and let a whisper caress her ear too. "You've got a tail, by the way."
She placed the tiniest kiss on his cheek, right by his ear. "I know."
Then she threw her saber.
Her blue blade spun through the air like a discus of light, sailing through the yellow lit alleyway, cleaving through durasteel walls before it impacted something, bouncing off armor as a startled cry and a chirp of a blaster rifle went off, her stalker falling down off of the high rise catwalks with a crash as his jetpack sputtered too late to stop his fall.
At the same time, Dennis drew his blaster, the barrel lining up perfectly as he took his shot and struck true, the green bolt scoring a direct hit onto a hidden attacker's helmet, blinding him.
People screamed and she heard the sounds of footsteps running quickly away. The two attackers screamed something she couldn't make out, their voices scrambled as they leaked out of their helmets, calling for backup.
One stood and as she lit her green saber, she found the iconic T-shaped visor of a Mandalorian staring back at her.
Looks like she'd found the Death Watch.
A split second, just enough to take a breath, and the alley was a storm of blasterfire.
She yanked her blade back, the blue lightsaber falling into her hand as she deflected bolt after bolt. Behind her, Dennis yanked a strip of cloth that had once been the curtain for a merchant stall, freezing it in place and exchanging fire with the Mandalorian on his side.
"What are you doing here?" She demanded.
"You missed your check in." He hissed.
Had she lost track of time that badly?
It was likely. The lower you got in Nar Shaddaa, the less and less you could tell time. Even in the upper city where perpetual night was the norm, the neon lights did a fine job of telling you when happy hour was.
Dennis fired his blaster, ducking behind the frozen cloth as a bolt nearly brained him before he pulled his slugthrower free instead, the shotgun roaring as the armor piercing rounds struck the beskar plate much harder, making the Mandalorian howl in pain as a pellet founds it way through a joint . "Got worried about you, sweetie!"
She snarled. "Call me that again and you'll live to regret it!"
He clicked his tongue. "Promises, promises, pumpkin."
She didn't know what a pumpkin was, but she was going to enjoy making him swallow the word when she was done here.
With a snarl she lunged forward, trusting that he'd check the one behind her as she advanced on the Mandalorian. She heard garbled words bark out of his helmet, his jetpack activating as he tried to flee on wings of fire.
She reached out, the Force extending from her hand to grab at his body, gripping him tight as she pulled.
He lurched in the air. More garbled speech, but she recognized the tone, a curse in Mandalorian, as he extended his wrist and spat out a glob of liquid fire in her direction.
She cursed, backpedaling quickly as the flames spread through the alley in front of her, tossing her green saber as the Mandalorian lurched and gained control of his direction again. The green blade struck his vambrace, making the flame canister explode violently, tongues of fire now snaking up and down his arm as he roared in pain, crashing once more as he lost control.
She smirked, satisfied with the damage as she moved to stalk after him.
"My my. So vicious. You're no Jedi, are you, love?"
Her senses screamed at her, danger suddenly blooming at her back. Impossibly close.
How? How could they have hidden like that!?
She whirled around, panic blinding her further. She didn't know where the attack was coming from, she only knew she needed to turn around now.
She turned, the flash of red blinding her. She heard Dennis calling out her name; the barks of the gun, the chirps of the blaster, it was all too fast and too slow. She could see her own end approaching millimeter by millimeter, even as Dennis tried to level his gun for a shot she knew would be deflected anyway.
And suddenly, like an arm coiling around her waist, she felt someone yank her. The air exploded out of her lungs as the presence coiled their Force energy around her stomach and midsection so powerfully she felt it might have broken her ribs as she was suddenly sailing back, the tip of the red saber scoring a glancing slice above her eye that had her face sing with agony as she in turn screamed in pain.
She fell against someone, her back impacting hard against softer flesh, her right eye closed tight with the pain of the saber cut throbbing at her brow.
But even so, she saw the reptilian arms of the Jedi Padawan holding her up, the Force presence uncoiling itself from around her body as the Sith Assassin tensed suddenly, a very real fear now emanating from her troubled thoughts as Dallon marched around Ventress, right out of her blindspot to place herself between Ventress and the Sith, armed and armored like a Jedi of old myths.
"Are you alright?" The Trandoshan boy asked as Ventress heard multiple blasters priming behind them.
The Mandalorian royal guards.
She straightened, trying to open her eye, the light blinding her with more pain.
Did the saber damage nerves? Had the blade been close enough to damage her eye itself?
Frak, she hoped not.
She snarled, gripping her sabers tight even as the Sith backed away, cornered and afraid as she looked at Dallon like she was the only one in that alley.
"Oh," Victoria's voice carried a malicious glee unbefitting of a Jedi. "Oh, I'm gonna enjoy this."
Dennis - idiot that he was - practically ignored the Mandalorian still alive behind him, standing straight up to make sure she was alive.
When he saw her, she felt the relief almost burn through him like a brushfire, but you'd never know it from his voice as he let out a hateful laugh, glaring at the silver haired Sith woman that had nearly killed her.
"Sorry, bad guys. My backup's just plain better than yours."
The Mandalorian she'd wounded, the one with the burned arm, staggered to his feet, groaning in pain.
His voice was still scrambled, but she was close enough that she could just make out the words warbled under his helmet's speakers.
"She's here. I say again, Dallon is here!"
(X)(X)(X)
Yes. Dennis and Ventress are totally platonic why on earth would you think otherwise?
Also, yes. Vicky the Raid Boss has arrived :3
I'm gonna have *so* much fun over the next few chapters with her!
As usual if you all like what you've seen here and you want to get the next chapters in advance three of them are available on Patreon ahead of time right now for just $1.00 along with exclusive artwork, polls and access to my own original work, link is down below.
We also have a discord LD's corner club and a TV tropes page for anyone who would be kind enough to expand its tropes pages.
Dennis:
"Sooooo… what's going on here?"
It was actually somewhat obvious what was going on, but he wanted specifics.
He probably should have been more clear, especially when Vicky answered with:
"Training, what's it look like?"
"For him, or you?" he asked. Gesturing towards Iskt he had to point out the obvious. "He hasn't taken a single swing at you this whole time."
Vicky had the decency to give a semi-nervous laugh. "Yeah. I know it seems weird, but kind of the point, really."
He gestured - his hand making a circular motion - urging her to go on.
"Soresu is a defensive lightsaber style," she explained. "We're using it to build up mah boy's endurance." She gave a cheeky smirk at the rather exaggerated 'mah boy' she slipped in there.
"Trandoshans," Iskt hissed. "Do not have ample reserves of energy. We tire quickly. Focusing on Soresu against Master Victoria burns my energy reserves."
"So, hold on." He shook his head. "Are you telling me, you wailing on him with lightsabers and making him block isn't so much a strength exercise as its fucking cardio?"
"It can be both," Vicky chirped.
She wasn't wrong, but the way the Trandoshan teen's muscles had been straining, pushing against Vicky's saber, looked more like a whole damn body exercise.
Then again, he was effectively pushing against 14 tons of force. Or however much Vicky was using to match his 'puny mortal teenager' strength.
Sure, as a Trandoshan he was probably as strong as a young human adult right now, but 14 tons was still something he wasn't gonna reach even when he was fully grown.
Master and student turned back to their training. "Again!" Vicky cried, and this time floated up off the ground. "I'm aiming to hit you this time, not just tire you out."
Iskt, without complaint, nodded, bracing himself, his hands tightening on the hilt of his oversized saber. He'd grow into it, Dennis knew. Right now, it was about as long as a cop's nightstick, the boy's two hands comfortably resting on the neck and near the pommel with a solid two inches of space between his hands.
When Vicky moved this time, she moved fast, a flurry of lightning strikes. The lightsaber didn't exactly need force behind each swing, but a physics-breaking Brute like Vicky, who didn't need a lick of leverage or actual force momentum to apply her strength, was no doubt delivering rock solid blows with every single swing as she flew around him like an angry, blue flashing buzzsaw.
Iskt's saber moved quickly, tight and controlled, but Dennis could see the instances where his defense buckled, when the boy stumbled and light burns appeared on his arms and legs where Vicky's blade, set to a high stun, grazed him.
Some of the Mandalorian Royal Guards paused what they were doing and turned to watch the spectacle. Rugess wandered close with a bag of snacks that he offered Dennis a bite of, which he accepted very readily as Iskt lashed out, fast as a viper, very nearly catching Vicky in the face before she pulled away at the very last second.
"Good! Very good," she complimented the boy.
All in all, it was an entertaining distraction, pulling him away from the niggling concern that was Ventress's absence at the moment.
They'd been on Nar Shaddaa for the better part of three days now and he'd mostly been sticking around the ship and the hangar bay, not wanting to risk wandering outside and being recognized. Rugess had done the same.
Ventress checked in once every six hours on the dot without fail. But that was still six hours in which something could go wrong. She had a tracker on her and Vicky said that she would 'sense it' if something went wrong and Ventress needed help, but that was cold comfort. A blaster bolt to the back of the head would kill you a lot faster than Vicky could fly her ass on down to wherever in bum-fuck nowhere Ventress was fighting.
The Mandalorian royals had also sent out their own feelers. With six on the squad, two were willing to go and search for clues on the Death Watch; they likely had a history on Nar Shaddaa or some underworld connections. Very few Mandos with combat experience didn't have some kind of history as mercs or enforcers, even the Royal Guard.
So it stood to reason they had some strings they could tug on.
The Jedi were remaining much more low key, keeping to the hangar bay just like he was.
He was pretty sure it was because Nar Shaddaa made them uncomfortable. Something about the Force being too loud here or something.
Even so, he was worried, he couldn't help it.
This was the worst fucking place in the galaxy for him and his crew, and the sooner he was off this rock the happier he'd be.
Ventress
It wasn't hard for her, slipping into the shadows of this wretched place.
In truth, it was like slipping on an old, well worn glove.
After… after Narek, after Rattatak, places like Nar Shaddaa were all she knew. All that was available to her.
Pirates, slavers, cutthroats, rapists and other monsters, they all found their way here, lured by the promise of money, violence, flesh or other vices. Nar Shaddaa and places like it had it all to one degree or another. You didn't even have to search very hard.
The Mandalorians though, Death Watch.
That was a more unique quarry.
Unique quarry, however, had unique 'wants'.
Dennis, given time, could no doubt find them. He played the fool well enough, but he was not a fool. She wouldn't be with him if he was.
The royal guards, however, were a hindrance. Too… loud. Too clumsy. Hannah would have been better off keeping her 'help'. They were dumb muscle at most. More likely than not their presence would give them away in a place like this.
Mandalorians stood out. Mandalorians with 'royal authority' even moreso.
Dallon… Dallon was another matter. The Jedi Master was powerful, of that Ventress had no doubt. She may have lacked subtlety, but she made up for it in sheer brute force. Even if Dennis hadn't regaled her with tales of what Dallon and Hebert could do back on his homeworld, the propaganda reels of her on the battlefront painted a good enough picture.
It rankled, admitting that she was outclassed by anyone, but Dallon… that was not a woman Ventress deluded herself into thinking she could defeat.
Still, Dallon's role was for later, when their enemies were finally found.
Her role came now. Finding them.
The Nikto Red sector was named such because the primary residents within this hab block were, in fact, Nikto. At least on the upper levels. A species corralled into an area, because the Hutts liked being able to find people easily if need be. If they needed a Nikto, they would send their enforcers here. And their slicers would hack into all other cameras if they tried to hide somewhere outside this sector.
A simple method for tracking people, but in a place so bloated with people like Nar Shaddaa, simple, blunt solutions were often times the most effective.
It also narrowed down her search area.
The Nikto, obviously, were not Mandalorian. That meant that the Mandalorians would stand out within this hab block to a laughable degree.
So, search around the Nikto sector. Its ancillaries, dependencies, the neighboring sub blocks and sectors.
Something had given Hannah a reason to send them here.
She continued her search, guided by her own deductions, instinct, and by the Force itself. Allowing it to guide her search.
If a handful of Nar Shaddaa's scum and imbeciles lost their teeth or use of their limbs along the way… well… that was just the cost of business, as the Hutts would say.
What Dennis and Dallon didn't know would hardly trouble them.
After almost three days, all of these things together led her inexorably towards the bowels of the hab block.
A place known simply as "The Grind".
A place where seemingly all the things even Nar Shaddaa considered 'trash' found its way towards. Falling down, down, down through the layers of grime and filth to settle amidst the rest of the detritus and filth - figuratively… and literally.
The Force shifted and shuddered in her senses. A disturbance. She didn't know if it was a warning or encouragement. It was too unclear, or Nar Shaddaa was simply far too loud to let her hear.
She held her comlink in her hand, contemplating calling Dennis and the others for the briefest of moments before pride stifled that thought.
How would it look, to call Dennis like a frightened child asking for an escort.
Her job was to find the Death Watch.
They were not found yet.
All she had was… belief…
She shook her head, scoffing at her own idiocy. The Death Watch were no threat to her, even if they somehow discovered her. She could fight them and escape a handful of up jumped mercs.
Ventress pocketed the communicator and descended down into the depths of the crime moon, the Force churning around her.
—
Komari Vosa
"What's the problem with it?"
"Power requirements." The old Mandalorian answered, cigarra between his teeth as he quietly typed away on his computer station. "For something this… small, we can't fit a reactor big enough to power it indefinitely. Even the biggest one we can safely fit onto the frame will only give us ten minutes of active use."
Ten minutes. That was an eternity in a fight, but considering Dallon could fly at nearly a hundred and fifty kilometers per hour, just reaching her might take ten minutes. And if she ever discovered the weakness, then it was as good as useless.
Yoshiro breathed out, a cloud of gray acrid smoke wafting out in front of his face. "We sent the specs to the Geonosians. The bugs have some engineering capabilities of their own. Apparently, they've found a solution from what I've heard. Not quite applicable to us, though."
"Oh? How so?"
His left hand reached out, clacking hard on a few keys before the image on the screens shifted. "Take a look." The old man grunted, not bothering to look up from his own work.
Komari leaned forward, reading over the schematics.
"Hah." She couldn't help the startled laugh. "A rather… unique solution. I can see why there aren't many of your men volunteering."
The old man huffed out a sound that might have been a laugh. "If the tech is out there, we'll find it. If it isn't, then we'll just fucking make it."
"You're planning on revolutionizing portable power technology on your own? You and your merry band of soldier rejects?"
"Too ambitious for a weekend side project?" He answered drily.
She snorted. In the few days she'd been here, she had to admit, she'd grown to enjoy the old man's dry wit. It was far more straightforward and… easy, compared to what Sidious enjoyed or found humorous.
She gave a closer eye to the schematics, reading the specifics the Geonosians had delivered in their blueprints.
"It says here they've only put one model in production."
"In all likelihood," The old man drawled, breathing out another plume of smoke. "They want to see if it even works first. No reason to dump that many resources in something untested."
True. The project was expensive. For the same amount of money the Geonosians could probably build an entire ship. Or another ten thousand battle droids.
A tingle ran down her spine…
She felt herself straighten.
The old man noticed. "Something wrong?" He asked.
She didn't answer for a moment.
Then, she stood up.
"Unlikely. We simply might have to deal with a pest problem."
He finally looked up from his work, eying her.
"Hmm. Take two of my men with you."
"That's not necessary." She shook her head, turning to leave.
She heard the charge of a blaster behind her, the high pitched whine ringing in her ears, and wondered if she could turn and slice off his head before he pulled the trigger.
"That wasn't a request."
She chuckled.
She was right in her original assessment. He would have made a fine Sith.
(X)(X)(X)
Ventress
The Grind was everything she imagined.
Filthy, run down. Forgotten.
If she were like these Mandalorians and she wanted to hide, she might have chosen this place too.
It didn't take her long to discover a trail. Whispers and rumors floated like a bad scent in the air.
One word caught her attention, however.
Jedi.
A Jedi had been here.
And that Jedi had killed quite a few people already.
Ventress tried to expand her senses, to see if she could find the culprit, but it was useless. Nar Shaddaa was too loud, too oversaturated with life and all its flows and currents. Too much to shift through. It was deafening, blinding.
But she was not quite so blind as to not notice someone following her before too long.
She pretended not to notice. She moved through the streets and the filth laden crowds. Moving through the bazaar, she bought food, a meat skewer of some kind in the stands. She could smell the alcohol, cheap and harsh, likely made with engine fuel in the bars nearby. Twi'lek slave girls shaking their asses for credit chips, hoping that a good groping was the worst of their nights.
And she kept pretending.
Walking, she chose her engagement place well. Somewhere open, somewhere she could maneuver if need be. Somewhere they thought they'd have an advantage.
When her hand snaked out, lightning quick, her prey barely had time to grab his blaster in surprise.
"Now, look what the cat dragged in." She purred, her saber lighting up with a snap-hiss. "So stupid." She laughed, a smirk crawling its way onto her lips as she slid her knee forward between his legs, like she was ready to knee him in the groin. "I should just get that bounty myself if you're going to make it this easy, you know. Before someone else cashes in instead."
Dennis smiled under his mask. "You'd miss me too much."
She brought her lit saber close to his face, leaning close to the other side to whisper in his ear. "Not at this range I won't."
He took the opportunity to fully pull the blaster out of its holster, and let a whisper caress her ear too. "You've got a tail, by the way."
She placed the tiniest kiss on his cheek, right by his ear. "I know."
Then she threw her saber.
Her blue blade spun through the air like a discus of light, sailing through the yellow lit alleyway, cleaving through durasteel walls before it impacted something, bouncing off armor as a startled cry and a chirp of a blaster rifle went off, her stalker falling down off of the high rise catwalks with a crash as his jetpack sputtered too late to stop his fall.
At the same time, Dennis drew his blaster, the barrel lining up perfectly as he took his shot and struck true, the green bolt scoring a direct hit onto a hidden attacker's helmet, blinding him.
People screamed and she heard the sounds of footsteps running quickly away. The two attackers screamed something she couldn't make out, their voices scrambled as they leaked out of their helmets, calling for backup.
One stood and as she lit her green saber, she found the iconic T-shaped visor of a Mandalorian staring back at her.
Looks like she'd found the Death Watch.
A split second, just enough to take a breath, and the alley was a storm of blasterfire.
She yanked her blade back, the blue lightsaber falling into her hand as she deflected bolt after bolt. Behind her, Dennis yanked a strip of cloth that had once been the curtain for a merchant stall, freezing it in place and exchanging fire with the Mandalorian on his side.
"What are you doing here?" She demanded.
"You missed your check in." He hissed.
Had she lost track of time that badly?
It was likely. The lower you got in Nar Shaddaa, the less and less you could tell time. Even in the upper city where perpetual night was the norm, the neon lights did a fine job of telling you when happy hour was.
Dennis fired his blaster, ducking behind the frozen cloth as a bolt nearly brained him before he pulled his slugthrower free instead, the shotgun roaring as the armor piercing rounds struck the beskar plate much harder, making the Mandalorian howl in pain as a pellet founds it way through a joint . "Got worried about you, sweetie!"
She snarled. "Call me that again and you'll live to regret it!"
He clicked his tongue. "Promises, promises, pumpkin."
She didn't know what a pumpkin was, but she was going to enjoy making him swallow the word when she was done here.
With a snarl she lunged forward, trusting that he'd check the one behind her as she advanced on the Mandalorian. She heard garbled words bark out of his helmet, his jetpack activating as he tried to flee on wings of fire.
She reached out, the Force extending from her hand to grab at his body, gripping him tight as she pulled.
He lurched in the air. More garbled speech, but she recognized the tone, a curse in Mandalorian, as he extended his wrist and spat out a glob of liquid fire in her direction.
She cursed, backpedaling quickly as the flames spread through the alley in front of her, tossing her green saber as the Mandalorian lurched and gained control of his direction again. The green blade struck his vambrace, making the flame canister explode violently, tongues of fire now snaking up and down his arm as he roared in pain, crashing once more as he lost control.
She smirked, satisfied with the damage as she moved to stalk after him.
"My my. So vicious. You're no Jedi, are you, love?"
Her senses screamed at her, danger suddenly blooming at her back. Impossibly close.
How? How could they have hidden like that!?
She whirled around, panic blinding her further. She didn't know where the attack was coming from, she only knew she needed to turn around now.
She turned, the flash of red blinding her. She heard Dennis calling out her name; the barks of the gun, the chirps of the blaster, it was all too fast and too slow. She could see her own end approaching millimeter by millimeter, even as Dennis tried to level his gun for a shot she knew would be deflected anyway.
And suddenly, like an arm coiling around her waist, she felt someone yank her. The air exploded out of her lungs as the presence coiled their Force energy around her stomach and midsection so powerfully she felt it might have broken her ribs as she was suddenly sailing back, the tip of the red saber scoring a glancing slice above her eye that had her face sing with agony as she in turn screamed in pain.
She fell against someone, her back impacting hard against softer flesh, her right eye closed tight with the pain of the saber cut throbbing at her brow.
But even so, she saw the reptilian arms of the Jedi Padawan holding her up, the Force presence uncoiling itself from around her body as the Sith Assassin tensed suddenly, a very real fear now emanating from her troubled thoughts as Dallon marched around Ventress, right out of her blindspot to place herself between Ventress and the Sith, armed and armored like a Jedi of old myths.
"Are you alright?" The Trandoshan boy asked as Ventress heard multiple blasters priming behind them.
The Mandalorian royal guards.
She straightened, trying to open her eye, the light blinding her with more pain.
Did the saber damage nerves? Had the blade been close enough to damage her eye itself?
Frak, she hoped not.
She snarled, gripping her sabers tight even as the Sith backed away, cornered and afraid as she looked at Dallon like she was the only one in that alley.
"Oh," Victoria's voice carried a malicious glee unbefitting of a Jedi. "Oh, I'm gonna enjoy this."
Dennis - idiot that he was - practically ignored the Mandalorian still alive behind him, standing straight up to make sure she was alive.
When he saw her, she felt the relief almost burn through him like a brushfire, but you'd never know it from his voice as he let out a hateful laugh, glaring at the silver haired Sith woman that had nearly killed her.
"Sorry, bad guys. My backup's just plain better than yours."
The Mandalorian she'd wounded, the one with the burned arm, staggered to his feet, groaning in pain.
His voice was still scrambled, but she was close enough that she could just make out the words warbled under his helmet's speakers.
"She's here. I say again, Dallon is here!"
(X)(X)(X)
Yes. Dennis and Ventress are totally platonic why on earth would you think otherwise?
Also, yes. Vicky the Raid Boss has arrived :3
I'm gonna have *so* much fun over the next few chapters with her!
As usual if you all like what you've seen here and you want to get the next chapters in advance three of them are available on Patreon ahead of time right now for just $1.00 along with exclusive artwork, polls and access to my own original work, link is down below.
We also have a discord LD's corner club and a TV tropes page for anyone who would be kind enough to expand its tropes pages.
