Corellia: Are We Not Merciful?

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Corellia: Coronet City - Forward Operating Base Osk, on the outskirts of the 42nd Ward






The Ubrikkian ITT transport was spotted three kilometers away by the western observation post, and called in to the commander.

"OP West to Command. I have visual on the VIP."

Further within the FOB, Colonel Ersk Graylor picked up on the message. His headquarters had at one point been a school. After Warspite had scourged six entire city wards off the map, it had become a military holding point. An ad hoc staging area for nebulous peacekeeping operations, designed to keep the peace for a planet full of Corellians who didn't seem to have the stomach for laying down arms. From the former headmaster's office, Colonel Graylor watched the flickering image of the Sergeant in his Army khakis give his update.

VIP

Dispatched directly by Moff Xaanan, thought Graylor icily. The implications were rarely good. It could be a new General had arrived to tour the circuit of FOB's around Coronet. Some Coruscanti blowhard who'd kissed enough asses to be seen being seen. Or worse than that, it could be change. A specialist sent in to shake up the status quo of seek and destroy patrols. Some combat doctrine revolutionary who had convinced enough people that their way was the right way of things.

At any rate, what Colonel Graylor needed wasn't a VIP to sort out the mess. He needed more men. More guns. More close air support coverage. The Corellian resistance in The Scar, as it had been informally named by the men, was at best a rabble. People with nothing better to do than take pot shots and loot anything slow enough to not get out of the way. Of course that was met by counterattacking fire support teams, and the rebel jackals never managed a significant victory. The current system worked fine. It just took time to strangle an insurgency out.

Nevertheless, even in a forward operating base, one could not escape the politics of battle. Colonel Graylor dismissed the OP, then sent a general message to his staff.

"Assemble the battalion for inspection in the courtyard."

Stormtroopers without a mission were restless, bored things. It barely took a nudge for them to pour from the classrooms that had been repurposed as barracks. Along with the support elements from the Army, the manpower of FOB Osk arrayed in the square as the ITT slowed to a crawl, moving past the armed gate. Colonel Graylor stood alongside Captain Lansk and Lieutenant Kallen. Neither of his subordinates had any more of a clue as to the nature of this visit. That wasn't surprising. No need in useless conjecture. The Colonel squared his stance, gloved hands meeting behind his back as he waited for the repulsor transport's passenger hatch to open.

He'd expected a General. What he didn't expect were a tall Selonian and a petite, scarred human woman. No uniform. No apparent sign of hierarchy. As he searched for these things, Graylor saw the lightsaber each woman carried with her. And he knew that his situation was that much worse.

The Selonian loomed over him as she came to a stop. Graylor managed to keep his staid expression as the beast rumbled inscrutably at him.

"Colonel Graylor..."

His eyes watered at her potent breath.

"I am Matatek Sel Vissica. This is Alexia Sturkov. We are Her Majesty's Imperial Knights."

Graylor willed his boot heels to touch, standing a bit more at attention than he had before.

"Knights?" he stammered, then swallowed. "We are honored by your presence, of course."

Vissica's eyes narrowed at the human as she licked her muzzle.

"You are dishonored by your lack of results, Colonel. We are here to relieve you of your burden."

[Alexia Sturkov]

"And your head if necessary." Alexia added, slapping a datapad against the Colonel's chest as she walked past; forcing him to flinch and catch it before it dropped to the ground. On it he would find his orders concerning the arrival of the Knights, and the shift of command at Base Osk. The Knights were in command now, and Graylor would be so lucky as to assist them in their mission. Sauntering down the line she took in the sight of the Troopers; a wall of polished plastech armor and spotless blaster rifles. Strong postures, perfect lines. The high standards of the Empire's elite soldiers.

Stopping at a trooper she leaned in close and made a show of inspecting him. She could see his body tightening, trying to force more effort into his salute. If he tried any harder he would turn into a diamond. "Stormtroopers, a base to operate from, and supplies from command. We could carve a path through the Scar and root out the Resistance ourselves. Now. Right there..." She pointed in the direction of the destroyed industrial sector, hidden from sight by the structure of the school and those beyond, while turning to look at her fellow Knight, "...is our enemy."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Vissica followed her comrade's gesture with a thoughtful growl. Knight Sturkov spoke true. The Enemy was out there. However, Moff Xaanan had painted a more complicated reality for the two knights to balance their rules of engagement against.

She would be merciful.

And for that, there would be changes.

"Knight Sturkov is correct. There are rebels and traitors on Corellia, and we will root them out and punish them."

The Selonian's whiskers sprang as punctuation to the point. She paced down the line of troopers opposite Alexia, inspecting the homogeneous ranks of stormtroopers as the human knight also did.

"However, there are also Imperial citizens on Corellia. Your comrades. Remember that we fight to restore Corellia under the Empress's standard. Don't be careless in delivering your justice, or you will create the enemy you intend to destroy."

Vissica paused midway down the line, peering into the nearest stormtrooper's helmet. It was identical to the man to his left, to his right, and behind. All the same. The musteloid ran a paw over the top of the man's helmet. To the credit of his discipline, he didn't flinch or react to her violation. The Selonian then drew both paws to the helmet, and curling her digits around the piece of armor, she removed it from the man's face.

Man. Barely. Beneath was a young human with a boyish demeanor to his face. Young and wide-eyed. And despite the obvious youth on his face, he still remained dutifully eyes-foward. Vissica gave an approving growl. Impressive.

"What's your name?" she asked in a low tone, tossing aside the helmet. Promptly, the trooper delivered a response to the query.

"KTX-44..."

"I asked your name." Vissica interrupted with a pointed growl, baring the faintest array of her teeth. The trooper resisted all urges to make eye contact, redoubling on his discipline. Was this a test? Swallowing his nerves, he complied.

"Banic Jon.."

The Selonian clapped a broad webbed hand across his shoulder armor, hard enough to be clearly heard. The force of it shook the trooper somewhat.

"Louder! For everyone to hear!"

The trooper cleared his throat slightly. "My...my name is Banic Jon!"

Vissica kept her tight grip on the man's shoulder even as her own shoulders rolled to full height.

"His name...is Banic Jon! He has a face! He has a name! He has a family! And he has a home!"

Only now did Vissica release the man, pacing back to where Alexia stood. Now standing shoulder-to-shoulder with her fellow Knight, she addressed the other side of the parade formation.

"As do all of you! As do the people out there! The resistance only knows how to fight a mask. A threat with no face. Let them see your true selves, and they will see themselves in you."

The Selonian paused, licking her muzzle.

"And once they do, their resolve will wane. The lie of their cause will fall apart. And you will win."

[Alexia Sturkov]

It was a great speech, but it hardly moved her heart of stone. The soldiers ate it up. Even through their plastech helmets she could feel their minds racing, moral rising. Not all of them. Some had already lost comrades, or seen the carnage of the Scar first hand. Their hearts were heavy with loss. Their minds slowed by emotion. Still, deep in their minds, there was a spark of hope. A new tactic; a new outlook. Also a new weapon. The Imperial Knights represented the height of the Empire's power. Gods that walked among them. Super soldiers with mystical powers and ancient weapons. Maybe, just maybe, with them they had a chance.

Blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes, Alexia was neither inspired or hopeful. She was bored. She itched for a fight, to cleave bodies in half, and tear them apart with her mind. To soak in the blood. However, Vissica seemed to be taking the Moff's words to heart and she doubted such an open conflict would be plausible now. She wanted to argue that helmets would keep the troopers alive, but she did not want to chase away the magic Vissica had created. "How would you have us proceed Knight Vissica? Scouring the Scar for the rebels or helping old ladies cross the street?"

Damn. She almost managed to respond without sarcasm.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Vissica looked down at Alexia with a snort. Her comrade was cynical about their situation, and it was a sentiment the Selonian could understand. If the only stakes in play were the outcome of a battle, better that it be a direct fight. Nevertheless, the reality on Corellia was not the ideal.

"Hand pick a platoon, Comrade. We will leave to patrol for the enemy."

She arched a fleshy brow, showing teeth in an approximation to a smile.

"Perhaps we'll find some."

Vissica again turned her attention to the troopers, now without their helmets. A myriad of unique faces from a hundred worlds.

"If those we find don't fight, then perhaps they'll talk. And we'll listen. Find out who the leaders in the community are. If we develop their trust, perhaps they will consider cooperation."

[Alexia Sturkov]

Hand pick? Stormtroopers? The very idea was a laugh that she restrained this time. Stormtroopers were the faceless Elite; soldiers once upon a time bred for war as clones and now raised from the finest stock of Academy graduates. Not the best. Not the sons and daughters of Moffs or the rich elite. The best commoners, perhaps. The prestigious few would go on to cushy office positions or become inept admirals and moffs. Stormtroopers were the unlucky saps that got thrown into the fire to survive or burn. Any other situation she would have just hand waved and taken whoever, but standing here now, being able to see their faces, there was a sudden option of choice. So many faces, some fresher than others, all clean shaven and squinting against the unfiltered sunlight.

Still, faces hardly made the man. It was still hardly a choice at all. Instead she probed around, her mind slipping in and out of the surface consciences of the men. So many of them. An entire battalion. She prowled as she inspected until she suddenly went still and pointed to her side. "Bravo Company, Valkyrie Platoon. Helmets on. We are patrolling the city." The troopers responded in kind, saluting again and pulling their plastech masks back over their heads. In similar fashioned she pulled up the scarf she wore from her neck, pulling it into place to cover her lower face and her disturbing scars. It was black, of course, to match her black robes and blue armor plates.

"I know where to start looking." Alexia confided as she stepped back beside her fellow Knight. "I have a contact in the city. He may know something. Keno District isn't far from here. It's right on the edge of the Scar."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Valkyrie platoon began to muster for foot patrol, and Vissica frowned at her comrade's decision to countermand her choice of removing their helmets. Perhaps she was still unconvinced of the tactic? No matter, it could be proven at another time.

The platoon filed out of the cordon, blasters at the ready as they prepared to enter the Scar. The streets two hundred meters ahead soon snarled with piles of debris and destroyed speeders - a sign of the incomplete progress in restoring the damage dealt. A few Imperial patrols were already operating on the outskirts, mainly to keep watch over the combat engineers who were still busying with the task of clearing away the detritus.

"This contact of yours," Vissica probed as she walked with her sister at the start of their patrol "who are they?"

[Alexia Sturkov]

She did not have to look at her companion to know she was not pleased with her command to helmet up. However, Alexia had read the dossier and knew that the resistance often employed hidden snipers in the Scar to pick off repair crew and soldiers. A trooper without a helmet would die in an instant without any chance of his plastech armor taking blow. In honesty, she was a little afraid of stepping into that wasteland. She had armor, but no helmet, and even then their armor was relatively ceremonial and only capable of withstanding small arms fire at best. It was cut down like that so they would still have the mobility necessary for their lightsabre combat. In Vissica's case, she wore no armor at all. They were incredibly vulnerable.

"Some time ago, before the Empire found me and showed me the truth, I was a slave to the darkside of the force. One of my many acts of depravity was the founding of a Sith Cult here in Coronet." Alexia spoke as they walked; eyes roaming as she both looked for clear paths to step through the debris field and also to keep an eye out for snipers. Her mind wandered, searching among the ruins for signs of higher brain function that could indicate a hidden sniper. "I left an insane, yet effective, force adept in charge to run the cult. There is a chance the cult died off without me, or it could still be alive, and if so they might provide some information. They may attack us."

If they do, it'll be a slaughter...

[Alexander Bane]

It fell, like a giant slice of pie, but instead of sloshing the city with berry flavors it left a trail of carnage. Carnage pie was his favorite, but not because of the flavor. Oh god no. Carnage tastes like wet socks and meatloaf had a child right before dying in a horrible spatula factory explosion and that child was put into the Saint Horrible-Flavors orphanage and raised itself up from nothing to die gloriously overseas in a war that he never wanted's bloody tears. He ate carnage for the texture and hallucinations. It was simply divine, and he could only describe the hallucinations as orgasmic.

The Order of the Dark Ascension was a cult, and not a very good one. Not anymore. It had once been a glorious thing, back when their high priestess had first created it, inspired them to follow in her footsteps, to obey the dark sacraments and acquire more members. She had left her prophet in charge, but Alexander Bane did not have the sway over the people like she did. Members started to drift away, no longer intrigued by this new age religion they had stumbled into. The cult slowly transformed from a new embodiment of the darkside of the force into something more resembling a social club. Sacrifices to the Ancient Sith were replaced with potlucks, and the reading of the dark tomes with an actual book club.

Still, there was potential here. Alexander commanded the force, although not very well, and a few of the others showed promise in the ways of the force. Within their coven sat many influential members of the community, and the trading of information and deals had made many businessmen richer and created opportunities for others. Hardly the cloak and dagger organization they had started out as. Alexander liked to think of it as a different kind of power. They kept the trappings, the gothic decor, monolithic chairs, and the big altar.

In the wake of the tragedy recruitment was rising. Those who had lost much or everything could find solace and security with the Cult, and all they had to do was swear allegiance to the Darkside of the Force, do a few rituals, and hope they were never called on to do anything truly horrible. Oh, they would, at some point. Alexander was a cruel and disgusting man. He pushed his flock toward the shadows when he could. So long as it didn't conflict with Movie Night.

He sat atop his throne, at the head of the big black table, his followers bustling about around him. A king in his castle; the castle which was an old Sith holdings that had been required by his master. With the Sith Order burned to the ground, as he had been told, nobody had come to claimed the facility and it had simply been a matter of twisting arms to get hold of the building, and now a tithe paid for the rent.

Being a High Priest had never been so rewarding.

[Alexia Sturkov]

It did not take long to reach the cult's location. It was right on the edge of the Scar. The building was unassuming. An old factory or some such building that had become decrepit from lack of use and more so from nearby crash and civilian uprising. The front door was boarded up and sealed. It was not the main entrance. Alexia commanded the troopers to spread out, secure the street, but try not to look threatening while still being combat ready. A handful she took with herself and Vissica around the back of the building. It was large enough that circling it took more than a few minutes. The path was cleared of debris and quite serviceable despite the dereliction of the building.

At the back was a door. Electronically locked with an optical reader. This was new to her. When she left this place it was much more secret, the path kept mucked up to discourage people wandering back here, and a guard on the door to only let in cult members. There was a special membership card and a secret handshake for force sake. Now anyone with a data spike could get in. The door itself was not even that sturdy. An old rusty behemoth as old as the factory. She should have expected as much from that idiot she left in charge.

"Let's not keep them waiting." She said more for her benefit than those around her as she stepped up and reached out to the door with both hands; fingers sprayed at first and then closing into claws. Teeth clenched and her hands began to retreat as if pulling something back. The door stood stoic for many seconds before creaking loudly and then ripping free of the duracrete building and flying overhead, over the tops of those gathered with her, and further into the empty factory back lot. Satisfied, she sucked in a deep breath before proceeding through the now open portal. Inside was a mess of pipes, discarded equipment, and rusted machines. It was impossible to tell what the factory when it had been operational. This floor was irrelevant. Once again a path could be spotted easily in the debris, leading in a gentle curve into the built in offices and a staircase down into the basement. The troopers were spread through the area again and none accompanied Alexia and Vissica down into the depths.

Depth and basement were ill fitting words to describe the macabre luxury that was the rich carpets, tapestries, and other decorations that immediately transported them from a derelict factory to a penthouse for tasteless goths. There were people here, lounging about, chatting, who immediately turned from what they were doing and did one of two things; they either ran in the opposite direction, and deeper into the duracrete facility, or they tried their best to look imposing and formidable. They were wearing ceremonial black robes with hoods, the symbol of the ancient sith hung from golden chains around their necks. They nodded to one another, and as one they drew lightsabres from inside their sleeves and activated them. Red, scratchy beams flared to life. No two beams looked the same; each a different level of instability.

"No tresspassers! Let the Darkside take you!" And they charged. There was no grace in their steps, and no coordination in their movements. These were arrogant thugs armed with poorly reproduced lightsabres. Alexia smirked and drew her own hilt and activated the white blade. Beside her Vissica did the same. You could see the fear on their faces register, but the cultists couldn't stop their advance.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Lady Vissica had negotiated the increasingly squalorous confines of the upper reaches by falling to all fours, and the Selonian remained in this prone state until the Knights reached the inner sanctum. All around her, the Knight saw the trappings the Sith cult which her sister had spoken of. Tapestries and ancient symbols cast in sanguine light gave the coven's inner chambers a sepulchral appearance. It was all curious to her.

The Sith were a religion that had it's very roots within the Empire's founding. The wise and powerful Emperor Sheev Palpatine was himself the ruler of the Sith, known to their ranks as Darth Sidious. When he and his student Darth Vader were slain in the carnage of the Battle of Sanctuary Moon, it was said that their lineage, the only true heirs of the Sith religion became extinct as well.

Whatever dark teachings Emperor Palpatine followed, they were merely a tool he used to shape the Immortal Galactic Empire into a nation that would last ten thousand generations. This was the sacred lineage that mattered. Power moved from an Emperor to an Empress - not through the validation of a dark side religion - but through the mandate of the Empire itself.

If the Sith lineage died at Endor, then what of these cultists? What of them indeed. Others had occasionally risen to claim mastery of the ancient Sith ways. They shared one common feature - they were destroyed to each man and woman within their fold. Their deaths did nothing to invalidate the Sith in Lady Vissica's eyes. Their religion was an irrelevance. Only fealty to Empress Tarkin mattered. Every knee could be taught how to kneel, even those belonging to Jedi or Sith.

If these cultists did not supplicate themselves before the indomitable might and will of the Galactic Empire, then as Sith they would share the fate of those who came before them.

The sparking red blades caused the shadows ahead to dance, and Lady Vissica drew up her arched spine as she rose to her full imposing height. These cultists wore their symbols and spoke their words, but it was all irrelevant to the Knight of the Imperial Throne.

Lady Vissica heard the fear behind all of these things.

The spark of her greatsaber threw back the shadows in time with the blade of her comrade sister. It's throaty hum growled as the greedy column of white plasma chewed the air in the room. Lady Vissica held her weapon in a vertical grip that made it seem as immovable as the load-bearing columns within the basement vault. The cultist who paced to pair against her swung his raw crimson weapon at her to test the Selonian's resolve. His form was as wild and unrefined as the construction of his weapon, and the spitting red blade splashed against Vissica's greatsaber, intersecting at midlengths. He poured his concealed fear upon her, dressing it up as rage. But Matatek Sel Vissica gave him not one inch. She checked his resolve, pressing back with her strength and leverage. The Sith cultist was unseated from the stalemate with a shrug, falling ungainly on his backside with violence. The tumult knocked over an adjacent table, spilling with it a candelabra and a goblet which clattered about with tinny noise.

Were this a simple enemy the matter would be handled immediately. Vissica would destroy this man. But Alexia had considered these cultists to be of some use in winding the scent of the Resistance. It would be counterproductive to butcher these Sith, or at least to butcher all of them.

As the Sith began to rise to his feet, an unseen force whipped him to his back and he began to slide along the floor, guided by an open webbed hand until he skidded to a halt at Lady Vissica's feet. The Selonian leveraged her severe blade a scant inch from his neck, beneath his jawline. The tapering tip of her fierce weapon pierced the rug on the floor, sending popping embers left and right.

"I give you my mercy. Resist the Empire again, and I will take that and everything from you."

[Alexander Bane]

"Bravo... Bravo." A slow clap resonated through the basement. From the other side of the room walked Alexander Bane. Dressed from head to foot in a black robe that resembled more the cassock of a priest than the trappings of a sith lord. It came complete with sith symbols hanging from chains, pinned to his chest, and inscribed on the cane he pretended to use to walk. "Stand down my pretties. Yes, especially your Darrel. It would be a shame if the weasel removed your pretty face." A mad giggle escaped his mouth, something sick and filled with perversion that made you feel the need for a wash. His eyes had a way of looking at all the most inappropriate places they could find. They wandered over every square inch of your body and left you feeling violated. It was something about his eyes. His laugh. His face. Everything was slimy.

The cultists retreated, moving to the edges of the room. They did not deactivate their weapons, but kept their distance.

"Ah, Pontifex!" He exclaimed, as if he had only just noticed Alexia's presence. "You have returned to us at last. It has been such a long time. In that time you seem to have stumbled through the wardrobe belonging to those fascist dogs; the Knights. No. Perhaps not an accident. Regardless, you wear the trappings on the enemy. We have reached in impasse. One of us has to destroy the other."

The cane was snapped up in a hurry, the handle withdrawn from the base to reveal a lightsabre hilt in it's place. A red blade sprung to life; healthy and full unlike the blades of the cultists. A proper weapon. Pity he was garbage with it. Still, it impressed the ladies and most of the time his enemies had no clue his skill with the blade. Knives were more his taste, as was running away, but he was backed into a corner.

And even the worst cowards will fight to the death once.

[Alexia Sturkov]

The cultists that rushed Alexia found themselves swept off their feet with a dismissive wave of her hand. They went crashed down to the ground and when they tried to rise it felt as if a bantha was standing on their chests, keeping them rooted in place. Glancing over she noticed Vissica had dispatched her opponent in similar fashion. Those still standing stayed back, unsure of what to do with their comrades in danger. They had expected their numbers and faulty lightsabres to be more than enough to win the day, and perhaps it had in the past, but they had not faced an opponent like them before. Alexia knew that if allowed Vissica would be more than a match for an entire army of these cultists. It would only be described as a massacre. Instead they let them live. For now.

It didn't take long for the High Priest to reveal himself. Alexander had changed. He wasn't the long silver haired youth she remembered springing from prison for the sole purpose of grooming for this position. It was hard to remember why she had done things back then. The Truth the Empire taught forced her to give up the lies she once believed. Now he was clean cut and... fashionable. Even his prosthetic hand was hidden beneath a layer of synthflesh to hide it's mechanical nature. His robes were rich and elaborated decorated. It was precisely the style she had cultivated. Something sexy and shiny to attract the locals to join the cult. If she wasn't so disgusted with him she would be impressed with what he had managed to carve out here. Instead all she saw was a mirror of her failures.

She didn't know why, but she had never told the Empire about this cult. She'd always kept it to herself because, deep down, she wanted to be the one to wipe away her own hubris and filth.

"It doesn't have to be like this Bane. We aren't here to kill you. Not today. We are here for information. I know you've got your finger on the pulse of this city. Tell us where we can find the Resistance. Give us anything and we'll leave. Lie to us and we'll drag you to the Maw until you speak. Your choice."

[Alexander Bane]

Mouth slack, eyes unfocused, the cackle came out again. Ah. Ah. Ah. Slow. Deliberate. Forced. There was no true mirth in his eyes. "Well. Well. Doesn't that put me in a position of leverage. Yes. I do know things about the Resistance. Some of the sheep in my flock count themselves among the freedom fighters, and even more know of someone, or someone who knows someone. I have the connections, and do I have a juicy lead. Word in the shadows is that Black Sun is smuggling in a Jedi. No, not some gizka oil salesman pretending for admiration and wealth, but a real, honest to sith, Jedi. And I know where he's going to be."

The smile crept back on his face. He had their attention. Their proverbial lady balls in his hands. They may have the lightsabres, training, and troops to back them up, but the scales were tipping back into his favor now that he was worth a damn. He had something so tantalizing that they could not resist the line he was reeling. However, he was not about to just give up that information. Oh no. Not after they kicked their way in here and almost dismembered several of his loyal flock. They were going to pay one way or another, and the traitorous Pontifex would pay more for her heresy.

"But I'm not going to tell you were. Let's make this a game shall we? The Jedi will be delivered to one of two places. He will either arrive at the Hmong Steelyard or the Sister Heren Memorial Hospital. Oh, and he's arriving..." He paused, and looked down at the chrono on his wrist. It was shiny and expensive. "Oh dear. Within the hour, according to what I heard. You better hurry. Your troopers will never make it there fast enough, and speeders are useless in this city now. Too much gridlock and debris. You better split up. One of you should be able to find the Jedi, and I dearly hope you can handle it. Don't dawdle. Tick tock, tick tock."

He laughed. Hysterically.

[Kyle Krogen]

"We received a call for help from the Corellian Resistance..."

The explosion was massive. The Star Destroyer fell from the sky like the wrath of god. The image would be forever burned into his memories. So massive a weapon to just tumble to earth. The Empire's symbol of power turned into a sign of hope. They cut it, the Empire, and made it bleed when most thought impossible.

"It is not the place of the Jedi to become soldiers. The Resistance's methods are extreme. They are no worse than the Empire..."

Then the holos of the retaliation that followed. Of stormtroopers pushed through the burning streets, laying waste to anything that resisted them. There was no alternative for them but to stamp out anything or anyone that may hold any responsibility at all. It was the expected response, and yet still absolutely horrifying. Confusion and lack of direction resulted in casualties on all sides. Nobody won that day, despite the blows that were struck. They limped off to their respective corners to lick their wounds and plot.

"We will not get involved in the conflict on Corellia..."

That was just not good enough. Innocent people were being drawn into a crossfire between the occupying Imperial Army and the extremist rebels desperate for freedom from their oppressors. Yes, they had pushed too hard and put their own people at risk, but that was the expected result of pushing a hounded animal into a corner. They fight back through any means possible. Even if that means is knocking a Star Destroyer out of the air to crash into their own city. It sent a message. That they will not go quietly into the night.

The Jedi would not involve themselves. They would not risk sullying their brand by associating it with such extreme ideals. They needed the help. They deserved the chance to fight for their freedom and a life with tyrants of their own choosing. The Jedi Code was not compatible. And that was when he realized that the Jedi no longer functioned. They had once again fallen into self obsession and reliance on the Alliance to protect them while they rebuild their temples and mysticism.

The Jedi used to mean something, and he would see them returned to glory.

In the viewport the glittering gem of Corellia grew ever bigger. They would arrive soon. Passage had cost him what little he had, but that was fine. He was not going back. The people needed him, and like the Jedi he had been trained to be by the Gray Man, he would protect the innocent no matter the cost. Even his own soul was a cost he was willing to pay.

"We will be arriving at the Hmong Steelyard soon. Everyone strap in. Infiltrating the blockade will be a bumpy ride."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Matatek Sel Vissica did not suffer games.

The Selonian took a step towards Bane, which caused the nearest acolytes to rush to shield him. Instead of sparking her saber, the flexible Knight tucked into a shoulder roll, accelerating forward as her strong tail lashed upwards to smash one of Bane's soldiers across his face. Before the man could pinwheel to the ground, Vissica had again righted herself. Now toe-to-toe with the cult leader, she seized the right side of Bane's head with her large left hand.

"Tell me where the Jedi is headed now."

Her oily unnatural voice seemed to bleed across the contours of the stone basement in ways that sound didn't travel. The Selonian's gimlet eyes stared unblinking into the target of her interrogation.

[Alexander Bane]

The sudden movement took him by surprise. It was not the result he had desired, and the brooding disappointment was evident on his face. A look that remained in place even as the furry Knight stood before him. All around the room any lightsabres not activated sprung to life and the cultists took a synchronized step in the direction of the attacker. They would have pressed further if their leader wasn't suddenly wearing fist earmuffs. Their eyes met. She spoke words, and they fell on his ears as well as his mind. His dark, twisted mind.

His sullen face opened, like a flower spreading before the sun. Eyes opened wide, mouth going slack, his features becoming exaggerated. He laughed. Oh how he laughed. Deep and genuinely now. As if he had seen the funniest thing in his entire bleak life and could not contain himself. His waist clenched, his body wishing to double, but the Imperial Knight held him straight. "Please, oh please Knight Pickles. You'll be the death of me; if your breath doesn't kill me first. I'll let you in on a little secret; I don't have to tell you anything. For all you know there isn't a Jedi, and I just made up the story to get you out of here, but here's the kicker; you can't not listen to me. To let a Jedi come to roost on this planet would be a huge blow to your entire operation. So you better play my game or risk the consequences."

[Alexia Sturkov]

"It's no use Vissica. He's insane. I've seen inside his mind. There is no sanity remaining. It is a horrible deluge of rot and filth." And she would not try to glimpse inside again. Back when she recruited Alexander she had found his twisted mind refreshing. Something to be nurtured and allowed to grow in it's twisted ways. There was a reason she found him in prison. He had been locked up for numerous crimes; the most recent of which had been the kidnapping of a small child that only ended when a good Samaritan gave chase and subdued him. Only the dark gods know what he would have done with that child should he have escaped.

Now that mind haunted her, and she knew that she was not strong enough to look inside it again. She feared for what it would do to her. Feared that she would find a piece of her former self in there and it would awaken a dark goddess. No. She would resist. This was just another trial. She would not allow herself to slip back into that darkness. Not again. The Empire was her object of worship now. She could not give up the Truth.

"If we hurry we might make it to the LZ's. I'll take the hospital. You go to the Steelyard. The troopers will follow as quickly as they can. We have not a moment to spare. He's right. We can't afford to let this slip through our fingers. And Bane..." She turned her attention from her fellow Knight to the madman in her paws. Her hand went from limply hanging at her side to suddenly reaching for the sky; fingers sprayed and bent. Alexander was ripped from the ground and Vissica's grip and lifted into the air where he choked and sputtered, clawing at the invisible hand that held his throat, "...You better run and hide. I'll be back, and when I do I'll tear you in half." And with that she threw him down and walked for the door; shoulders hunched, hands forming fists at her sides, her face a cruel mask of rage.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

With her fruitless link to the madman's mind severed, Lady Vissica snorted a held breath through her nose, blinking away the desultory mental wanderings of the lead cultist's mind. She tried with all her power to compel him to obey, but Bane's insanity held no sacred tenants. Rather than gird himself in defense, his mind ran through her closing grasp like viscous oil passing between her fingers. It was an utterly unnerving sensation. One that the Selonian wished to cleanse from herself. She stepped back in a daze, lowering the hand that had cradled Bane's head just moments before.

Comrade Alexia's words could be heard at a distance, and Vissica weakly nodded as she slowly turned around. One of the cultists remained too close to her person as she slowly took steps to leave, and a weary hand swiped him against the wall.

"Signal the battalion. Go with haste, comrade."

Finding her wits and senses once more, the Selonian fell to four feet and took off in a lope.

[Alexia Sturkov]

"Be swift, Knight Sister." was her reply as Vissica ran off ahead of her. She cast a final look behind, at Bane standing there with his cultists. A smile still sitting on his face. A promised was made, before all the Gods of the universe, that she would put him in the ground. There as no time now, and he may still prove useful in the future. A necessary evil, perhaps. Turning she ran for the stairs. From behind echoed out Bane's gross laughter.

By the time she reached the main floor of the factory Vissica was gone. Her powerful body would push her faster than Alexia ever could. That's why she sent her to the further of the two locations Bane gave. Gathering up the Troopers she cut the battalion in half and sent half to the Steelyard and the other to the Hospital. A squad she left behind to watch the factory and keep tabs on Bane and his cultists. She didn't want him slipping away.

A moment was needed to focus herself. The events in the basement of the factory had been disruptive to her peace of mind. Centering herself in the force and focusing her mind on the task at hand, she found empty peace again. And then she set off, slowly at first. A trot that turned into a run that evolved into a sprint that increased in speed until she became a blur as she ran with the assistance of the force. Her troopers were left behind as they ran after, moving as quickly as they could through the city. It would take them some time, she told herself, to get anywhere. They had to be careful. The resistance was still out there waiting for such an opportunity to strike. She was potentially facing a Jedi alone. It would not be the first time, but it had been some time since she faced the Jedi on Naboo; and failed.

She hoped she was ready this time.

[Kyle Krogen]

"Skids down in ten minutes."

The call came out, and only then did Kyle finally unshackle himself from the crash webbing that held him to his seat. The last leg of the journey had gone without incident, but only because they had come into orbit far from Coronet and weaved through the trees and mountains of the planet surface to avoid detection. That took some time to navigate and included many sharp turns and sudden drops of altitude to stay below detection range. It also meant dodging other spacecraft, cities, and anyone who could spot them. At one point they even set down in a field while a patrol ship flew by in the distance.

Now Coronet was on the horizon. Stealth had been thrown to the wind as they blitz into the city limits. They lacked the proper codes to land anywhere and that meant only one option; jumping. Moving to the back of the starship, Kyle readied himself for what was to come. His robe was tightened around his body and his shoulder bag secured. It held what few belongings he had and risked bringing along. Clothes. Food rations. A few scraps of his prison uniform that he kept as a memento to the horrible prison sentence the Empire had visited upon him, lest he forget.

"Five minutes. Prepare for drop."

Smashing his fist into the control panel caused the hatch to open, revealing rooftops zipping by below. He kept his eyes on the ground, ignoring the concerned and bewildered looks of the crew behind him. When he first escaped the Inquisition prison he had a hard time moving after being held in tight captivity for so long. Jumping had been the hardest. His feet had felt like anchors that weighed him down. The Jedi had helped him shake the rust and overcome his damaged body. Now he was confident in himself that he could make the jump, that the force was his one true ally and it would not let him down. He was not afraid. He was more at peace now that he had been in years.

"Drop now!"

The starship decelerated sharply, throwing Kyle against the bulkhead. The blur of rooftops slowed down, but never stopped. They could not risk slowing down that much. There was no hesitation as he threw himself out the door and into the cool air. The noise of the engines was left behind as the silence of the open air engulfed his body. His robes and hair danced in the freefall. The ground came up fast, though, and he was prepared. The force slowed his fall, pulling him back, and allowing him to hit the ground and shoulder roll to safety.

Coming up to his feet he looked around. It was a steelyard. Sheets of metal and machinery littered the large yard. It was otherwise empty. Must be closed today, or closed forever perhaps. The fallen Star Destroyer had destroyed a huge chunk of the Industrial District. A lot of businesses, even those not physically destroyed, could have also suffered the economic fallout and went out of business. Regardless, this was where he was suppose to land. The Resistance was to be along shortly to pick him up. Checking his chrono, though, he noticed that he was well ahead of schedule. It would be awhile before they showed up for him. He was not afraid. There was little the Empire could do to him that it had not already, and besides, it wasn't as if they knew he was coming.

In the meantime he found a couple of crates to sit against that hid him from most angles. It would suffice for now.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Lady Vissica traveled far and fast, moving low to the ground at a full four-legged gait. The Hmong steelyard was a scant four kilometers from the cultist hideout, if one was efficient enough to take the most direct route. The Selonian abandoned the snarled city gridwork of Coronet's industrial sector. She bolted through alleyways, scrambled up storm drains, leapt across roofs. The rapid beating of heavy paws alerted tenement denizens of something big moving fast, but by then she had come and gone.

From the rooftop vantage, Vissica paused, taking stock of a view high enough off the ground to see across to the steelyard. There was no sign of activity there. The yard itself seemed closed, as there were no workers, nor the tell-tale smoke of an active blast furnace. If what the madman said was true, then she was either early, or she was to late. Vissica's eyes moved in quick tracking actions, scanning for anything that might betray a clue to the Knight. In the distance, a ship began to right it's trajectory, picking up speed and altitude. The Selonian dropped to her haunches, sitting up straight as she watched it fly overhead. Everything was vague, but her feelings told her that she was neither early nor late. That ship - it had to have delivered the Jedi.

Racing onward, Vissica leapt from a six story rooftop, letting her momentum carry her past the steelyard's fence with the aid of the force. She landed on a shoulder, tucking her head so that her inertia carried her into a roll for another thirty meters. The big Selonian uncurled, raising her head to the empty surroundings as her nose winded the air for a betraying scent.

[Kyle Krogen]

Startled by the sudden crashing noise, Kyle leaped from his hiding place and landed atop the very crates that had moments ago shielded him from sight. Finding the source of the noise was an easy task. His eyes went wide as the creature unfolded itself from the ball it landed in. Fur and muscle unwound infinite until a huge creature filled the space. This was no member of the Resistance. The lightsabre hanging from what could only be described as a harness around the mammalian creature's torso attested to something far more sinister.

The realization hit him. He knew what this was. An Imperial Knight. The strongest weapon of the Empire and the greatest enemy he could hope to confront.

Without further hesitation his lightsabre detached from it's place within his black coat and slapped into his gloved hand. The hilt was tarnished; rusted in spots and dirt trapped in the crevices. It stood in direct contrast to the brilliant violet beam that erupted at it's tip. Crouched down, blade held horizontally away from his body, he look into the face of this creature and felt nothing but uncontrollable rage at the sight of the Empire's new plaything. This is what replaced the Inquisition, and to him they were one and the same. And he would destroy it just as strongly as he promised he would rend the Inquisition.

"Hello darkness my old friend."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The madman Bane was correct.

The Jedi were here, and she had arrived in time to herald their vanguard. This man was not like the Jedi Vissica had faced before. He wasn't the reserved and hesitant creature that Kyle Rayner had been when she'd been tasked to hunt him down. Nor was he the unflappable poise manifested in Loklorien s'Ilancy. This invader was a distinctly different creature, and the passions that Jedi were said to control and conceal manifested themselves with clarity and intensity. Lady Vissica could feel this man's anger, as piqued as Comrade Alexia's, though certainly more focused.

The Selonian's dark eyes didn't waver from the Jedi's brandished blade as she stood to her full height. A slow and deliberate webbed paw reached over her shoulder to disengage her greatsaber from it's scabbard. She held the weapon in a two handed grip, cocked over her head in a classic form V pose. The white-hot purity of imperial justice sparked from the aperture, purring deeply through the air as Vissica regarded her opponent.

"I am Matatek Sel Vissica, Knight of the Imperial Throne. I am here to place you under arrest."

[Kyle Krogen]

"We have a saying on Coruscant; you and what army?" came his reply with a smirk. Breaking his stance he spun his lightsabre around in front of him in a display of his agility. The blade hummed loudly as it cut intricate circles in the air with each rotation.

A big enemy, with a big lightsabre. She was formidable, and other than Baastian Kyle had not squared off with any other Imperial Knights. If he was able to survive against the best of their unit than he should be able to perceive against the largest. Kicking off, he ran straight at the Knight. As he approached he dropped low and then unwound, feinting an overhead jump but instead dropping back low against for a low, rolling strike against the legs of his opponent. It was a gamble, but he was confident that his speed and acrobatics would keep him out of harm's way.

Attacking first was hardly the Jedi way, but in that moment as he approaching his opponent, the Jedi could be damned.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Vissica took a shuffle-step backward to gauge her enemy as he took the initiative against her, closing the distance quickly. The moment he coiled for a leap, the Selonian was already loosing her heavy blade to end him. After all, she had the high ground. She would correct any misguided notion that he could win the fight in three dimensions, and she would do so lethally.

Except that it was a feint, and she had swallowed it. The Selonian's eyes widened as she saw Kyle's shoulders dip back again. Sinewy arms strained against inertia to correct her blade's motion. The best she could manage was to stab her weapon half a meter into the earth, just in time to cut off the Jedi's sweep from literally taking the legs out from under her. The white blade sparked and scorched where it gouged the earth, but it held the line.

With her opponent in lock, Vissica knuckled over her pommel to apply a moment of safety leverage, allowing her to disengage with her off paw and deliver a back-hand to Kyle's face. Whether it landed or not was less important than giving Vissica the space she wanted to disengage and apply momentum.

[Kyle Krogen]

The dirty Imperial pig fell for the feint. Her body language changed, her stance rising to combat the vertical threat. But the real threat was from below, not above. The smirk on Kyle's face didn't last long when she still managed to maneuver her blade down and create a unmovable obstacle for him to collide into. And collide into it he did. Like crashing into a wall, his blade struck his opponents and stopped, causing his legs to slide out from under him from the sudden deceleration. However, it turned out into a godsend as a simple tuck of his head sent him rolling away and underneath the fist of his opponent.

He couldn't risk taking a blow from someone so out of his weight class. He imagined the large mammal punched like a Wookiee. Still, he tried to maintain his momentum as he came out of his roll running, the dirt of the steelyard rolling off his coat as he rose up. He jumped and ran along the side of a large container, pushing off it and spinning around to head back at his opponent. She was planted like a fortress and the feint wouldn't work twice. His only advantage was speed. He would have to draw her out of the open where she had the advantage. Sokan Ataru was about using the environment to your advantage, but sometimes that meant changing the battlefield to one that suited you better.

Passing by his opponent, out of reach, he stuck his tongue out at the large mammalian Knight and jumped on top of a large container. Turning around he faced his opponent he cast his hand at a discarded cinderblock, picking it up with the force, and sending it sailing at his opponent's head. He didn't even wait to see if it landed it's target. Instead he backflipped off the back of the container and into what could only be described as the factory scrapyard. Here, between the discarded pallets, containers, and other sharp metal garbage he might find an advantage. The Knight would chase. It had to. They couldn't afford to let a Jedi go free.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Ataru.

It was nearly as much as an antithesis to her Djem So style as Makashi, though Vissica respected the former a bit more. The ability to kinetically overwhelm with attacks and motion was everything that her style was not. She believed in the utility of movement, and decisiveness of force. Why do in twenty strikes what can be done in one?

Just before Vissica could give chase to her quarry, a sense of impending threat caused her to spin around. She'd been foolish to allow her eyes to deceive her, and Kyle's desultory cinder block struck her with only enough time for her to lower her brow into the impact. The block fragmented in a violent release of sand and shards against the Selonian's forehead plate, leaving a patina of dust over the musteloid's face. Dark eyes filled with water, then pinched shut as she sneezed, dislodging the layer of dust in a violent puff. Vissica's lips peeled back in a bare-toothed growl, staring daggers at the spot where Kyle had been only a moment before.

The white blade of Vissica's greatsaber extinguished. Clipping it to her back, she held her open hands low, closing her eyes as the massive container began to rise off the ground where it had settled. The wail of groaning durasteel and din of falling detritus sounded through the scrap yard as Lady Vissica raised her arms on high. Then as one, she slung her open paws to the ground.

The container pod obeyed her command, falling into the scrapyard like a comet.

[Kyle Krogen]

Shit. Shit. SHIT!

The last thing he had expected from his large friend was for her to toss such a large object at him. She seemed more the type to engage face to face and enjoy naps in the sun. One moment he was dodging through the piles of scrap and the next he glanced over his shoulder and saw a cargo container coming straight at him with his name on it. Dodging it would be easy, but the impact would send debris everywhere, and shrapnel was a legitimate concern.

He had to get above it.

Sliding to a stop, he looked down the barrel and took a breath. Exhaling, he took a few ginger steps toward it and then jumped, throwing himself in a high arc that put him right on top of the container. He didn't stay for long, just enough to kick off the container and let it fly by underneath while launching himself higher into the air. Looking over his shoulder he watched it collide with the scrap yard in a crash that send metal debris everywhere as predicted. Bullet dodge, or so he thought, until he looked back around and saw that he had thrown himself right back toward the waiting Imperial Knight.

Those cool points were about to cost him some health points.

Reactivating his lightsabre, he held it at the ready. He would have to parry on the fly, with nothing to rely on. She'd bat him right out of the sky, and he was already looking around for the softest landing he could find.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Kyle's expectation quickly became reality. The Selonian tracked the airborne Jedi, his fixed course allowing her enough time to wind up into a swing with force behind it. Kyle's blade met it in guard, but the impact batted the Jedi into a nearby pile of discarded hull plates with a tinny screech.

"Don't be so quick to sow your own destruction." Vissica warned, dropping a cleave down upon Kyle only to miss him by scant inches as he rolled away from her swing.

"Yield. The Empress may yet show you clemency if you renounce your support of the terrorists."

[Kyle Krogen]

As expected he was batted right out of the air. His journey came to an end as quickly as it began. The sudden impact knocked the air out of his lungs, but there was no time to recover before he was rolling away from the Imperial Knight just in the nick of time to avoid being cut in half. Whatever he landed against wasn't so lucky. On the back peddle for the first time this fight, he kept his distance from his opponent while waiting for his lungs to open back up.

"Ne-ver. The. The Empire des-erves to burn for it's sins."

A clatter at the front of the steel mill caught his attention. It sounded like the gate being blasted open, and the repetitive stomp of many boots. Stormtroopers. With narrowed eyes he looked reluctantly away from his opponent.

"This is not the end. I'll bury you yet." And with that said he turned and ran. Ran as fast as he ever had. With the force as his ally he sprung from the yard, kicking off the chain link fence that surrounded the yard, and sailed across the street and on to the top of the nearest building. Deactivating his saber he took off across the roof, heading for the edge to jump to the one after.

Let's see that big bully keep up with me...

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

A strong instinct to pursue guided her, and Vissica had no sooner extinguished and holstered her weapon than she began the chase. Broad forepaws hit the ground in the midst of a stride as she ran after the Jedi on four feet. Seeing the divide as Kyle touched down on the other side, Vissica stretched out to clear the distance. The Selonian landed awkwardly, her body hitting roughly on the ledge of the roof as her clawed forepaws raked deep furrows into the tile, struggling to find purchase. Baring her teeth with strain, Vissica made the second effort, pulling herself up to the roof just enough to give her leverage to clear it outright on the third attempt.

[Kyle Krogen]

Landing on the next rooftop in a roll, Kyle came up running again. There was no hesitation, no pause to collect himself. He had never been in this city before in his life, but it was a city. They were all the same. Closely packed buildings, never ending traffic, and crime everywhere. The only difference between this one and the one he grew up on was that he could see the sky. A sight forbidden to him for his entire childhood. He would never forget the first time he saw it. Just like he was would never forget how the Inquisition stole it from him.

Reaching the edge of the rooftop he jumped again, but this time there was not another building ahead, but rather a busy street. He dropped, through the air, turning a somersault as he fell, and landed in the backseat of a passing speeder with an open top. Slipping into the front seat he gave the driver a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Thanks for the ride mate. Keep driving, and you'll he handsomely rewarded." A wave of his hand in front of the man's face, his best effort at a mind trick, did little but turn the driver's scowl into something resembling mild annoyance. Success.

The flashing of a cred chit helped him down the rest of the road from grumpyburg into pleasantville.

"Goodman" And with that he tapped the roof control and the canvas top of the speeder pulled back shut, sealing him away from sight.

[Alexia Sturkov]

The moment the call came in Alexia spun on her heels and ran back the way she came and toward the Hmong Steelyard. Troops were redeployed and sent that way in force. Her breath was already labored and exhaustion was creeping in, but she pressed on, relying on her training, discipline, and mastery of the force to carry on. She raced through the streets. On all sides faces and buildings were a blur. Those smart enough got out of the way, but more than a few had to be gently shoved aside.

There was not a moment to waste, and subtly was the first casualty.

Vissica's contingent of Stormtroopers arrived as Alexia did, to an empty Steelyard. It took a moment of searching to find Vissica atop a nearby rooftop bordering the yard. Pausing to double over and catch her breath only delayed her a moment before she threw herself up on top of the building, stumbling a bit on landing as she came to a stop beside her larger comrade. "Where. What happened. To the. Jedi?" She asked through heavy breaths.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

"Where. What happened. To the. Jedi?"

With heavy breath still in her throat, Vissica turned to the arrival of Comrade Alexia, asking a question that boiled in her blood. The Selonian twisted on her axis, her flexible spine curved like a shepherd's crook as she bared her teeth in full array. A half second later, Alexia found herself pushed to the ground as Vissica worked her frustrations out on a rooftop climate control fan, eviscerating the giant apparatus in a frenzy of lightsaber tantrums, before slapping the ruined structure off the edge of the roof with her tail.

[Alexia Sturkov]

Looking past the Selonian into the distance, trying to find the Jedi, Alexia had no idea what was to come.

Her view suddenly capsized as the ground fell out from underneath her. The sound of the lightsabre caused her to shut her eyes and accept her fate. With every slice, with every note of agonized metal, she flinched and tightened her arms closer to her body. She knew what blasters felt like as they penetrated your body. A dry heat that filled with white hot plasma, but only a moment, leaving you cold as your body rapidly cooled. She felt nothing.

Risking opening an eye she discovered her body intact, and wasted no time rolling aside and climbing back to her feet, her hands raised defensively. She had never seen Vissica like this. She said nothing. Instead she risked a turn of her head, to see the Troopers gathered below; watching. "Put out a report for a Jedi in the city. We need everyone looking. Pull any security footage from the surrounding businesses. Circulate a headshot."

The trooper sergeant saluted and began issuing commands. Alexia dropped off the rooftop, leaving her fuming partner to her own out of control emotions.

[Alexander Bane]

"Nighty night!" The club descended on the unprotected head of the trooper, smashing his skull open and spilling his life essence all over the durocrete. The main floor of the factory was a slaughter. Corpses littered the ground like little cakes covered in blood frosting. White plastoid and black robes mingled together. The squad had not expected the reinforcements that came to the cultists aid. They struck from behind, a surprise attack that was almost immediately put down. They were barely armed, after all, but it opened the window for the cultists below to rise up, with weapons in hand, and strike down their would be pacifiers.

Dropping the club Alexander took the discarded bloody Stormtrooper helmet in both hands, turning around, looking at the thing, and then finally pulling it up and over his head. It took some poking around, playing with the HUD, before he finally located the comm system. There were several channels to choose from, and thankfully they were precisely labeled. The Platoon Comm was opened, connecting him to the entire legion of troopers at the Imperial Knights' disposal.

"Hello Furball and Scarface. It would seem your attempt to stop us had failed. You're troopers died like little piggies. Oink, oink! Oh, and don't bother coming to find us. No ho ho ha ha! We'll be long gone before you arrive. Where will we go, you ask? Underground. You see, we were perfectly content playing house and keeping to ourselves, but you had to come and stick your finger in our ass. There is no going back to what we had before. Oh no. We are now at war, and we will get even. You have sown the wind and now you will reap the whirlwind.

Try and catch me Knighty-poos!"

Pulling the helmet free he tossed it over shoulder and signaled his cultists to move. Already they had gathered up anything of value and were prepared to move. The dead were not left behind without ceremony. Each one had it's face uncovered and a bloody smile cut into it's face.

Delicious!

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

"Try and catch me Knighty-poos!"

Duly provoked by the transmitted hologram, Vissica tore the comm off her paw gauntlet, crushing it in her grasp. She watched the filaments and microcircuitry twinkle in the light as they fell from her slacking fist...


THWOMP!

The thudding feet that landed behind Alexia required no introduction as her Selonian partner took the long fall with ease.

"I should have destroyed them all when I had the chance."