9.114 - Eemp Varsoos Raybol! [Open Challenge, 1 Rebel soldier]

[Zhe'chot]

Zhe'chot wasn't sure entirely what was the situation or how well his unit was doing. He wasn't even really certain that he knew where they were staging at or who, precisely, their enemies were. All he'd been told was this:

"Zhe'chot, got some Rebs out there. Go kill them."

He would've preferred to support his unit, fight in the group, but they insisted he branch out wide and scout for any other troops that might be trying to flank them. He'd found no troops, only a single sniper with the Rebellion's patch on his arm. It'd been a simple job to sneak up on the man and slit his throat, take his earpiece, and replace him. Even with the stolen comm unit jammed uncomfortably in his left ear, the Rattataki could hear the opposition clearly along with his allies. Zhe'chot sighted through the scope.

"Kirpons, we need cover-fire. They've got a guy shelling us with an RPG, can you take him out?"

Zhe'cot quickly checked the name patch on burbling sniper. Kirpons. The gray-skinned Imp quickly picked out a man in the Rebel force with an RPG and promptly shot him dead.

"Kirpons! The hell!?" Zhe'chot could see the commander screaming through the scope. Since he was already given away, Zhe'chot grinned and shot again, downing another soldier.

"Aha, your Meesta Keerpohns, he is not in good plays fora talking. He, his longs, full with own blad. Is very bad, for him. Here, I put him on for you!" Zhe'chot pulled the ear piece out and held it to Kirpons as the man spat up some blood and finally died. "Aha, you hear? Now my Basic is betta! Very good, yes? Also, I think your man calla me bad name as he die. Very rude; I do not hear." He killed another man, a beautiful shot right through the ear canal. "Aha, yes! Gooda snipah! Maybe is not so fun as rifle, or knife, but good!" He watched through the scope as a soldier was dispatched, ducked low and moving quickly, to root him out and stop him. "Your man, he coming op too late. Snipah always moving, chanja spaht. Important to ro-tate, always. Ro-tate, ro-tate, ro-tate! Mova snipah, hard find. Hard kill. Good luck, Capitan Raybol."

Quickly Zhe'chot stripped off his field jacket and put it on the corpse with his earpieces and laid him out over the rifle a few meters up the track, towards the Imperial camp. Nearby, the cover of forest gave him ample ambush opportunites. Carefully the Rattataki covered his tracks, climbed the closest tree, drew his pistol, and waited.

[Bax Starlight]

Bax kept low as he headed for the hill where the Imp slaughtered Kirpons. The private had the best PT scores for the 5k run, therefore he had been chosen to go get Zhe'chot before he could snipe down any of the other troopers.

The private kept low, weaving from place to place to throw off the sniper's aim. He started firing as soon as he saw the emplacement. Laser bolts scorched earth, but the Imp was nowhere to be found.

"Fucking Imp mind games," he spat.

Bax crouched down. Where had Zhe'chot gotten to? Bax was no idiot. People don't disappear. The woods seemed likely. "Suicide mission. Damn. Captain, the Imp looks to have fled into the trees. I'll try to find him. Force be with you."

Private Starlight edged towards the treeline.

[Zhe'chot]

Oh! Better idea! Zhe'chot put his gun away and drew his combat knife. The sound of his weapons entering and clearing their holsters was covered by the rustle of leaves and the scout's own tread.

He waited for the man to pace by, then silently swung down from a limb and landed behind. The thump of his boots hitting the leaf-covered forest floor gave him away at last. Good--he would see his enemy's face as he breathed his last. With an expression that mingled the delight of playing a game with the adrenaline-borne thrill of life-and-death combat, Zhe'chot made a quick movement to cut and disable Bax's left arm.

[Bax Starlight]

Bax whirled, coming almost nose to nose with Zhe'chot--and fired. The private didn't bother to take a proper stance. Such as it was, the shot went wild. The gun bucked against the wiry private, pushing him aside. The Rattataki's knife cut only fabric.
T
he stock of the rifle bruised his ribs. Already breathing was becoming hard. "Look at you," Bax said, trying to catch the Imp off-guard. "Do you even know who you're talking to?"

[Zhe'chot]

"No talking now, only killa Raybol!" Zhe'chot answered, arms up in combat-ready stance. "Your shoosting, not so good from hep. Put stock onna choulda, aim betta. But, too late. Cuttin oppa Raybol before he can fire maeka me good soldier." He ducked slightly as he stepped in, knife swinging to lacerate Dax's ribs.

[Bax Starlight]

Bax's jaw clenched. Fine. This guy wanted to get up close and personal? He could deal with that. Private Starlight used his rifle to stop the knife from reaching his ribs, then turned it around to offer a stock strike to Zhe'chot's head.

[Zhe'chot]

Zhe'chot took the blow fully on his forearm as he came up short and blocked it. The heavy stock knocked his arm aside and he took a glancing secondary blow to his temple. It throbbed, but he wasn't seeing stars or feeling wobbly. This human Rebel had fight and strength in him for being so scrawny. He wanted to drop the knife and just go toe-to-toe, close quarter combat no-rules dirty fighting, but it would give up an advantage that he might need. But the Rattataki bloodlust was rising and Zhe'chot wanted to feed it. He stepped in, pivoting a quarter turn and kicking low at the back of Bax's knee.

[Bax Starlight]

The kick connected squarely: Bax's knee gave out from under him. Bax found himself kneeling. Quick as a flash, he turned the barrel of his rifle back at the Rattataki and put the stock on his shoulder.

"How's this for good form?" He fired three shots.

[Zhe'chot]

Zhe'chot threw himself away from Dax, taking the first blaster bolt as a graze across his face. It burned like nothing he'd ever felt in his life. Bacta would heal it and erase the scar, but he might opt for different treatment and let it stand. A scar was a badge of honor, after all. Zhe'chot rolled to his knee behind a tree and unslung his rifle from his back, jamming the combat knife into the tree bark. "Moch betta, Scoutaraybol," Zhe'chot complimented, quickly checking left and right to see if the reckless human had maybe run up to try and finish him. "Maybe your unit, it has a hope for weeninga battol, if all your mans fight in this way." He leaned around the tree and returned his own three-bolt volley.

[Bax Starlight]

Bax took his own graze across the shoulder on his way to his own bit of cover. "I'm a force of nature!" Private Starlight retorted.

Man, blaster shots burned. He was starting to wish he had equipped heavier armor. The armor would have only slowed him down. His unit recently lost its comm specialist and all the scouting equipment. So, the unit was forced to revert to an older version of gathering field intelligence: using a person's own two eyes. Bax had jumped at the chance: He could finally move around and not stay hunkered down shooting at people who were just as hard to hit as he was.

"Fuck this!" Bax cursed to himself. He burst out from behind cover, weaving between the trees to make himself harder to hit. Left and right he strafed, varying the amount of time between his changes in direction so Zhe'chot couldn't predict his movements.

Bax made an arc around the Imp, shooting during the gaps between the trees.

[Zhe'chot]

Zhe'chot heard the man's movements and dove for new cover to see what Bax was doing. Lasers peppered the tree trunks and sheared branches to pieces as Zhe'chot returned fire. He reached his cover with neither man having landed a shot. It was to be expected, shooting accurately at a moving target while running was notoriously difficult, even more so when considering Bax could probably do a 5-kilometer run in about ten minutes. Zhe'chot wanted to close up and get back to the hand-to-hand. He didn't see this getting anywhere quickly. He poked his head around the corner and tracked the Rebel, lead him by a short distance, and opened fire.

[Bax Starlight]

Bax felt heat on his shoulder. The light armor he wore bore the brunt of Zhe'chot's attack, but only once. Alliance gear until recently didn't hold up compared to Imperial gear. Bax's unit hadn't been outfitted with the new stuff yet.

The hand-me-down chest and shoulder plates came off of some random stormy at the battle of Endor. Private Starlight heard that for being elite troops, Stormtroopers couldn't take a blasterbolt to save their lives. He was quickly finding out why. He stopped behind the next tree.

Bax grimaced, reached into his field pouch, found a bacta patch, and peeled off the packaging. His arm was already showing signs of a second degree burn. It could have been worse. Maybe stormtrooper armor was better than they let on. He slapped the patch on his shoulder and winced: the impact on his shoulder hurt like hell. It didn't last. A split second later and the bacta was already soothing Starlight's wounds. "All right," he said to himself, "I feel good."

Bax turned his face to the side to yell at his enemy. "That gun working well? Didn't even hurt!" He was posturing. What was he going to do?

He needed to get back to his unit. To tell the truth, Bax only got out of basic a month ago. He knew his actions were foolish. But he was stuck.

Bax burst out from cover, leveled his rifle, and fired.

[Zhe'chot]

Zhe'chot had spent the time creeping forward, angling towards Bax's position as the Rebel's yelling clued him into the human's position. As Bax burst from his cover firing, Zhe'chot threw his foot out in a kick aimed at the scout's ankles. "The shoutings, not so good for you, Scoutaraybol!" Zhe'chot said with mock cheer. "Quiets, they are better for the snikfightings. Is no snikattack if you yellin' it out, you see?" He turned to face Bax's position. "Now you is the dead Scoutaraybol, and I goes back to shoosting down your anee-mal friends in vall-ay. Gooda try, Scoutaraybol." He pulled the trigger and fired.

[Bax Starlight]

Bax jumped over the kick and by sheer luck pulled the trigger on his gun in time to hit Zhe'chot's laserbolt with his own. Sheer dumb luck. Or maybe there was something to the Force after all. Still, Bax believed in making his own good luck.

But first, he needed to see what was going on. When the two shots converged on one another, it created a blinding flash and a small section of superheated air. Bax felt like someone had flung hot caf in his face, and then immediately dried his face with a hairdryer. His skin was red, blistered, and raw. His eyes filled with spots.

Ultimately, Bax was a person who acted first, rather than think first. Bax backpedaled as fast as he could go, shooting all the while until he slammed into a tree.

"Damn! Damn damn damn!"

[Zhe'chot]

Zhe'chot threw up an arm too late. His eyes watered and his skin burned. Instinctively he threw himself to the ground and was rewarded as Bax's shots burned into the foliage and missed him. His hand went to the combat knife on his waist--no, it was still in the tree, a punishment for getting too confident with the upstart Rebel. He groped for his boot instead and pulled out a Rattataki knife, a blade with a keen, curving edge and a vibro function. It was entirely non-standard and entirely against orders for him to be carrying it, but Zhe'chot had been too clever in keeping it secret for them to steal it from him. He lay still, waiting for his vision to clear, and listened hard for Bax.

[Bax Starlight]

Bax couldn't help panting: the tree had knocked the wind out of him. He fumbled for the medicated ointment in the pockets of his combat fatigues so he could get a little more first aid. Hopefully he wasn't permanently blinded. How much would that suck?

Bax had to settle down. He took a knee just as he found the ointment. He squeezed some out onto his fingers, then dabbed at his face with the medication.

He set the squeeze tube on his knee, then used his non-medicated hand to shoulder his rifle. He continued to give himself first aid, then reached for the stun baton on his hip. For some reason Zhe'chot liked using knives. If the private got lucky, maybe Zhe'chot would be trying again soon.

[Zhe'chot]

Zhe'chot didn't waste time with his medkit. He steadied his breathing and focused his senses. He had no injuries that would hamper his ability to fight. He just had to wait out the eye adjustment. His eyes cleared in time to find Bax at the ready with his stun baton in one hand.

The Rattataki rose, his lip curling to a smile. "So, here we are to fight asa warrior," he announced, approaching by several paces before beginning a long, slow circle around the Rebel. "Hand to hand, is all any fight come down to. Issa close-renj battol that showa true metol."

[Bax Starlight]

Bax had no answers for the Imp. The turd caused him injury being stupid and now his face was greasy with bacta ointment. His face felt sweaty and uncomfortable.

Bax, for once, didn't feel like mouthing off. He just swung the baton at Zhe'chot's head.

[Zhe'chot]

At last, blessed silence. Zhe'chot ducked his head and sideslipped, jabbing the knife with the aim of separating Bax's ribs out a little more. How much would the Rebel say in his last words if he couldn't hold air in his lungs to speak them? He didn't consider himself sadistic, but Zhe'chot was looking forward to verbally abusing the opposing commander with his scout's final speech.

[Bax Starlight]

Bax caught Zhe'chot's wrist. Bax's face transformed into a grimace of pure determination. Imperial scumbags. Taking over the galaxy. Restricting people's freedoms. Torturing people. Installing oppression and calling it order. Damn them. Damn them.

"DAMN YOU!" Bax shouted.

He swung the baton at Zhe'chot's head with everything he had in his wiry arm.

[Zhe'chot]

Zhe'chot put his palm over Bax's closed hand and managed to put on enough pressure to keep the stun bat from contacting him, though it was close. They stood in mirror of one another, stumbling and turning on the spot as each tried to overpower the other. The Imp's patience with the deadlock wore thin in seconds and he snapped a kick at Bax's right knee.

[Bax Starlight]

Bax's knee buckled, and threatened to bend in a way that the human knee was never meant to bend. he felt his leg give out from under him. He took a knee. The private grit his teeth and fought back. He had to stand up, break the grip Zhe'chot had on his wrist. But how was it going to happen?

Bax shifted his grip on Zhe'chot's wrist to his index finger rested in the crook of the Rattataki's wrist. Bax placed his thumb on the back of Zhe'chot's hand and pushed.

[Zhe'chot]

Zhe'chot tried to ignore the pressure point and push in, but it was too much. They sprang apart briefly, then Zhe'chot stepped inside of Bax's next swing, hooked his leg behind the man's wobbly knee and pushed hard on the human's sternum. Bax hit the forest floor hard and Zhe'chot knelt to slay him.

"Private, return to camp. Battle's won. Don't know what you were doing up there on the cliff all that time." Zhe'chot sighed with aggravation, the knife blade poised on Bax's neck.

"I do a scouting, sir, like you say. I find a snipah, keel a snipah, shoost Raybol, they seend man up to stop me. We fight inna forest. I won, I am keeling him now."

"We don't have time for you to claim trophies. Get back, we're leaving in less than two minutes." Zhe'chot stood, dusting his pants.

"Verra good, sir," and he shut the radio off. "Well, Scoutaraybol, it seems you are the locky man today. Mebbe in fyucha we will fight again, and then I keel you." He retrieved his knife and gun, secreted his Rattataki blade away, and ran for the rendezvous and the shuttle that would take him to space.