An awkward rescue (Sten)

[Tayeav]

"I said I wasn't interested..." The Chiss scowled behind the rim of her glass, doing her best to ignore the human panting lustfully at her side.
"Yer the prettiest twilek I've ever seen." His words a slur.
"I'm not a damn.... Oh forget it." Tay rolled her eyes and turned from the man, waving down the tender for a refill. She knew males were stupid, but to mistake anyone for a twilek (considering Tayeav most definitely lacked head-tails) just reinforced her opinion of the gender.

"Hey, I'm still talkin' to you!" A greasy hand fell on her shoulder. "I'll even let ya buy me a drink, sweetness." A cherry eye twitched as a hand slid to her blaster, the much taller female turning slowly to bring her eyes back upon the man.
“I’d take your hand off me...” Her voice a dry hiss.
“Or what?” He leaned in close, the stench of rum on his breath.

In a whir of motion, the male found his face pressed flat into the table, his right hand twisted cruelly behind his back as the Chiss dug her knee between his shoulders. He let out a yelp as the woman leant in, pushing her weight down upon the man.
“You’re gonna leave me be, hmm?” Her lips were bare inches from his ear, set in a triumphant smile as the human writhed helplessly in the pin; the cobalt-skinned femme shoving him roughly aside, allowing the surrounding laughter to cripple what was left of his ego.

“Men are so stupid.” she mumbled and took a drink...


* * *


It was deep-night when the cantina closed it’s doors; the alcohol-soaked patrons left to stumble back to their homes, Tay being no exception. With one hand on a wall for balance, the Chiss had managed to pull herself down one of the numerous alleys, groaning to herself about nonsensical things as she made her way back to her shuttle. Ebony hair, laced with the smell of smoke, bounced annoyingly across her vision until Tay had to stop and tie it back; her tall frame swaying into the closest wall, promoting a drunken snicker...

"Hey, Twilek!" A voice came from the shadows, forcing Tayeav to spin shakily on her heels and come face-to-face with what looked like several followers. "Yer the one from the bar, ain't ya?"
The speaker (the man she had roughed up at the bar) stood with both arms across his chest, a mirthless grin spread along his dirty face.
"Ya ain't so tough now, are ya?" His head inclined as two of the gang stepped forward, pipes in either hand...

Tayeav cursed under her breath and back stepped into the wall; her head foggy and senses askew as she did her best to eye off the group. Her fingers were steady as she slid out her DL-18 and aimed at the bigger of the pair; the action some what shaky as she worked through the double-vision.
"Look at her, too drunk to see straight!" It was her turn to be laughed at, the Chiss scowling as she tried to clear her head.

"Come on then..." her voice was as calm as she could manage, considering the situation. It wasn't that she was scared or incapable, but Tay knew how much she had drank, and knew that her reflexes were stunted because of it; making a seven-on-one fight more dangerous than it would otherwise be...

The braver of the pair came at her first, pipe raised above his head.
Her shot was quick.
He fell before taking his third step.

"Bitch! Get 'er!" She heard the call and turned to run; her long legs feeling weighted as she stumbled through the darkness, knocking over crates and scrap waste in attempt to slow the chase...

Shadows raced past her, the mob at her heels. All she could hear was her breath and distant shouts.

Good one, Tay. This is what you get for drinking.

She turned and fired another shot.

Damn, you missed.

[Cameo Stenislav]

The whistle of hard brush on a bare floor. Sweeping dirt away until there is no more.....

Cameo Stenislav, or Sten to those who even bothered to ask his name, almost chuckled at his stupid rhyme. He was a ghost to the patrons enjoying their drinks, an invisible entity moving about the crowd easily, sweeping up the dust even as it settled on the hard, duracrete floor. The smell of smoke and alcohol was overpowering to the senses. Not even good alcohol or smoke. Cheap cigarettes and cigars ashed themselves onto the floor, and the smell of various, cheap, alcoholic products clinged in the air, to every patron, even to the clothing of the.....Custodian, Sten thought to himself. The word "janitor" sounded too plain. And the janitor merely swept the floors and cleaned other surfaces. Sten did it all; when the bartender had imbibed too much of his own product, Sten would clean up the bar, and serve the drinks as well, sometimes even making a spectacle of himself, whenever the mood seemed to strike him. Sten always loved a crowd, especially a cheering one. A cheering crowd is a happy crowd, kid... The words of several of his former mentors echoed in his head. Mentors of a time of abuse, anger, broken bones, bruises, cuts, darkness, rage, violence....and any other words that Sten simply couldn't think of at the moment. That was a time before his unusual rescue at the hands of a legend, Mace Windu himself...And all during a sting operation of sorts to trace a smuggling ring of exotic animals. Those akk dogs.....Sten remembers staring down the monstrosities, and even beating them with his bare hands, and that was before his training as a Jedi. Now....who knows what he could accomplish, a former Jedi Knight....

And a sigh of discontent escaped his lungs, and blew past his lips, rushing away a cloud of pungent smoke. So far he had gone, so much accomplished, and for what? To sweep floors, and throw out the trash that drank in this place, when it came time to oust the rowdy ones. Fortunately, it was last call for alcohol, and he heard a human ask for "One burbon, one scotch, and one beer," in a very sing-song fashion. Sten chuckled at the drunk's musical talent...If only the guy could play guitar, Sten mused to himself as he continued his tasks.

Sten had finished the last of his duties as some of the last minute drinkers and smokers left the bar, filtering out slowly. Sten noted a younger, female Chiss, the one who had showed a human male that drunken pick-up lines were not for her, slowly and staggeringly making her way to her feet, swaying as she walked out of the door. If you could call that walking... Sten shook his head, and hung up his apron, and washed his hands at the refresher once more. He would have a nice, hot shower when this day ended. And then, the last crowd left, a determined and drunken human. The very same one who had given the Chiss woman a difficult time. And he was leaving with a crowd of seven, including himself. And their intent was easy to see, even for one not of the Force. He was angry. And drunk. And stupid. Muttering a curse underneath his breath, Sten tossed the towel behind his head, and didn't even hear it hang on the refresher's counter, as it was when he picked it up. Sten was already out of the door, a blur of movement as he slid through the doors and out into the night, his naval-blue, near black skin blending in so very well.

With a few quick glances, Sten made absolutely sure that there was no one in his sight. As his crimson red eyes narrowed, Sten called upon the Force, and went to his hands and feet, only to spring himself upward, into the air. A good thirty feet from the ground, Sten's powerful, three fingered-and-toed, hands and feet gripped at the hand- and footholds in the building, scrambling along the building's narrow ledges. From under his flowing, near-tattered clothing, a bifrocated, and prehensile tail, flicked to and fro, giving Sten incredible balance and stability as he sped his way along the building sides and rooftops, with a speed that only a master acrobat, and a Force User to boot, could achieve.

In about a minute, Sten found himself above the drunken skirmish. It consisted of the Chiss woman against seven beings: four human males, one being the leader; two Gamorrean males; a single Zabraki male. A bolt of light leapt from an object in the woman's hand, and the man she pointed at fell after three paces. She was drunk, and she had a blaster. Sten sighed nervously. Dammit, I hate blasters... He thought to himself as he exploded into motion. Leaping from the rooftop, he slid down a series of staircases meant for fire escapes, Sten leapt from the bottom of the structure, clearing twenty feet between himself and his first opponent, a swift kick to the side of the face. Like a rag-doll, one of the Gamorreans, fell to the ground. As the second blaster bolt cleared Sten's cotorted body by inches. His skin could even feel the heat from it. That was it! With a blinding flash of movement, Sten struck outward with his hands, landing a hard and powerful blow on the other Gamorrean, blood erupting from the swinish snout as it fell away. With speed only matched by years of training, Sten's hands shot backward, gripping the blaster. With virtual ease, he wrenched it free of the Chiss woman's hand, and tossed it quickly to the ground.

Sten stood, eyeing the remaining four as they drunkenly registered his presence, and that he had so easily dispatched two more of their number. The leader human male, two other human males, and a Zabraki male remained. Sten nodded his head in dissent, his glowing crimson eyes making his cranial motions very clear. And his words were just as clear, as he waved his hand into the air at them.

"You're finished here." It was a statement, augmented by the Force. And in their drunken state, they should completely agree with it. Unfortunately, if one didn't agree, all would continue their assault. And wouldn't it figure if one idiot, the leader, decided to react with a durasteel pipe. He swung it forward at Sten. Sten dodged the projectile with ease, ducking and spinning. His tail lashed around the pipe-wielder's legs, bringing him to the ground. A pounce into the air brought Sten even with the two humans split by the Zabraki. A kick with each foot brought the other two humans to the ground. The Zabraki in the center was a target of a followup attack. Without even losing his hang time from the previous attack, Sten turned himself into a sideways flip, bringing his feet down upon his opponent three times, before ending the move with a vertical, double-fisted strike. The Zabraki male, bruised and bleeding, collapsed under Sten's weight, falling to the ground in a tangled, unconscious, and wounded heap.

Sighing, Sten easily walked forward, past the pipe-wielding leader, ignoring him. Until the bastard decided to attack Sten from behind. As he went to swing, a perfectly executed backflip over the man put Sten directly behind him. And before the human could even turn around, Sten struck, two fingers lightly tapping the side of the human's neck. The man's legs went limp, and he hit the ground, as unconscious as the man Sten had Spitting Rawl-ed. Sten shook his head, his verbal statement echoing in the dark alleyway.

"Stupid damned drunks." Sten turned around, looking to the Chiss woman, who seemed in no state to take herself home. Sten knew what he should do. Walking to her, Sten knelt down beside the Chiss woman, and took her chin in his hands, tilting her head very gently upward, until her red eyes met his. With his free hand, Sten waived it over her eyes, empowering his words and motions with the Force, attempting again to ease her into a sleeping trance.

"Sleep now, darlin'...."