Corellia: We don't look back

You had hated the flight. It was crowded and tight and far too noisy. Some annoying child had stared at you the entire time. That annoying child was still staring at you as you shuffled toward check in. Stop staring. Stop staring or I'll snatch your eyes. You glared at him from beneath your mask as you felt yourself pressed forward amongst everyone else. Obnoxious little goblin. Tiny little devil. You were still considering the various means of making him look somewhere, anywhere else when the sound rang out. Loud and blaring and far, far too close. You spun your attention ahead and found yourself staring into the wide, fearful eyes of an Imperial agent. When had you gotten to the front? When had you stepped up to the biometric scanners? You always told them you needed to step aside and they were always weak enough mentally to let you pass.

You hadn't noticed. You hadn't seen. You were on the system. Your hands immediately flew to your robes, to your pockets and linings. The agent got no opportunity to even make a demand before you shattered a pair of vials in your right palm, thick, noxious smoke pouring from your pocket as the crowd erupted in screams and cries.

"TERRORISM!" "AN ATTACK!" "RUN, OH GOD, RUN!" The sounds echoed through the station as the riot erupted around you and you sank out of view, immediately using the mass of bodies to vanish from camera and eyesight both. By the time they realized you had slipped away you'd be deep into Coronet City and out of their grasp. You made a mental note to find that tiny goblin child at some point in the future and throw it off a ledge.

Elsewhere a dormant file was suddenly updated after several years.

[Bounty Status - Active - Reward 25,000 Imperial Credits - Alive Only]
[Target: Anessa Kitan - Sex: Female - Age: 19 Standard Years - Height: 5'8" (Age 17) - Weight: 113 lbs. (Age 17)]
[Bounty Placed By: Tomas Kitan, Revea Kitan (Parents)]
[Additional Information: Target is female runaway who has been missing since age of 14. Parents want her return (alive) so they can clear misunderstanding that has flagged her as a person of interest in terrorist activity on Zeltros.]
[Last Known Location: Her Eminence of Light Hospital, Zeltros (City) Zeltros (Planet)]
[File Last Updated: 647 Days Ago]

Hunt Master. It was a title he'd turned down at first, and now that he'd accepted it, Fook wondered if it had been the right choice. Free time which had previously been spent carousing and chilling at clubs had become dedicated to sitting hunched over the table in his ship's banquette, studying open contracts and comparing them to the bounty hunters who had pledged to him. The Wah had sworn to his latest apprentice that being Hunt Master didn't mean he'd be stuck behind a desk all day, though at the moment it certainly felt like it.

Of course, Fook was not without an assistant in his new role. On the massive holoscreen which dominated the opposite wall of his ship, a friendly, broad face with long, black beard, and a green cap, hummed as it scanned through data, matching possible bounties with hunters by current location, as well as pay scale. Guan Yu, the AI of Fook's ship, the 36th Chamber, was more than just a computer program, he was Fook's business partner and best friend. And, as Fook had accepted the role of Hunt Master, Guan Yu had also been given a promotion of sorts, as Hunt Master's Assistant.

Despite being an extensive computer program, Fook worried his longtime friend might balk at being asked to effectively operate as a computer instead of a person, but to his surprise, Guan Yu had taken up the task with great relish. And, it was thanks to Guan Yu's ability to monitor all updates as they came in, that a particular file appeared upon Fook's screen.

"EXCUSE ME, SIR, BUT I DO BELIEVE I HAVE SOMETHING WHICH MAY INTEREST YOU," Guan Yu's thunderous baritone boomed from the ship's speakers. "COLD CASE YOU HAVE LOOKED INTO A FEW TIMES HAS JUST BEEN UPDATED."

Fook's beady black eyes snapped up to the screen, darting here and there to process information and imagery. Yes, he knew this bounty, and had pursued it himself in the past, but came up with no leads.

"G-dawg, course to Corellia. Coronet City," the diminutive bounty hunter called out as he swept his table clear into a file folder and made for the cockpit.

"LAYING IN NOW," Guan Yu thundered with a broad grin as he reappeared on the holovision, as well as his own viewscreen in the cockpit. "I SAY, THIS WILL BE A SMASHING ADVENTURE!"

The Wah cricked his neck after climbing into the leopard-print crushed velvet of his pilot's seat, and strapped himself in. "Dunno, G. Homegirl don't look like she's playin', from that vid, feel me?"

"I AM OBTAINING CHEMICAL ANALYSIS OF THE GAS NOW," Guan Yu beamed. "DID YOU KNOW THAT-"

"Save the quiz show for later, dawg," Fook shook his fuzzy head, then punched the throttle, kicking the 36th Chamber into high speed before engaging the hyperdrive. "This playa wants to know if any of them cats kicked it, dig? Because if homegirl gone straight killa, that 'Alive' tag gon' get ammended."

You had availed yourself of a quick change of garments before making your way back onto the street. The bite of the air against your blistered face had been miserable, but it was preferred to being readily identified by your standard apparel. The night clerk at this dingy, ran-down inn had stared, aghast, at your burnt and scarred face, peaking out from beneath a hood you had pulled down low.

They had attempted to hide their disgust and revulsion, but even without the Force it would have been plain on their face. Still it wasn't the time to seek revenge or make a spectacle of yourself. You had settled into the tiny room and stripped. At least this experience would present you an excuse to change a few wrappings. A news recording played in the background as you mixed several chemical compounds on the table before you, before slowly applying a dollop to a blistered sore on your arm. You would let that breath for a few more minutes before applying gauze and bandages. There was still substantial area to cover, as well as a generous tightening of your chest binding. It had slipped in the commotion and you'd been met in the mirror with a figure you would prefer not to see.

"In other news, Coronet City Space Port was briefly closed this afternoon while Imperial Forces performed a drill for emergency response services. A few wary travelers were caught up in the procedure, but thankfully there were no injuries or further incidents."

Interesting. The Empire was playing it close to their chest. No need to incite a riot with the populace, was that it? You were sure they had their reasons, but were also sure that even if publicly it was presented as nothing more than a drill for their inept forces, that your appearance and biometrics had gone into every database on the planet. It would be difficult to leave Coronet City until things had died down - and even then you'd need to secure less than public transport off. You hissed through your teeth as you applied another smear of medicinal cream to an especially tender sore and focused on the task at hand. You'd only stay in this hole of a hotel for a night, then find someplace much more secluded to bunker down.

By the time the 36th Chamber dropped out of hyperspace, Fook's situation had changed dramatically. Access to operate in Imperial space had been granted, chemical analysis had been completed, CCHV camera footage requests entered, and Fook's wardrobe had undergone a total transformation.

Gone were his baggy pants, low-slung belt, fly sneakers, gold chains, rings, and flashy shirt. In their place was a black, reinforced plasleather bodysuit with orange accents which matched his fur, black boots and gloves, a wrist-mounted computer and comm system, and a heavy utility belt with twin holsters. Over his eyes he pulled a single-lens pair of goggles, the lens a mirror purple, with gold trim around its edge, and he tapped at a button on its side. Projected upon the interior, a heads-up display flared to life, with Guan Yu occupying a frame in the upper right corne of his periphery.

"ALWAYS GOOD TO GET OUT AND ABOUT!" Guan Yu's voice tested the limits of the small headphone tucked into Fook's left ear.

The Wah scaled the volume back, then nodded. "Ain't out yet, G," he replied. "Homegirl ain't gonna play in the hood she just smoked, dig? Need locations of all hotels, motels, and Holiday Inns in that zip, and track any suckas from the scene to any of them usin' that security footage. Empire's whack, but they got that mad overwatch, dawg."

"A SHAME WE NEVER REACHED DIAMOND RANK. WE COULD HAVE GONE PRO IF-"

"G. Dag, yo. Eyes on the prize, dig?" Fook minded his AI.

Guan Yu's floating head nodded in understanding before a pair of sunglasses blinked into existence on his face, feeds from thousands of holovision cameras flickering over each lens. Fook simply chuckled to himself, having forgotten about that particular animation, while he pulled a compact gas mask and rebreather from his equipment, then tested its fit in conjunction with his goggles. Decent enough, he reckoned, followed by a check in the mirror.

"Dag, this ice is hella floss, but Grandmaster's goin' stealth," he said to himself, removing the large diamond stud earrings from his fuzzy ears, and replaced them with a pair of black pearl studs instead. "Aw yeah. Hittin' that shit with night mode, playa," he nodded in approval of his new look.

"I HAVE JUST RECEIVED WORD THAT WE ARE CLEARED FOR LANDING, SIR," Guan Yu announced, video images still flickering across the surface of his glassed. "I HAVE SECURED US A PRIME PARKING SPOT IN A REPUTABLE AND CONVENIENT LOT, WITH A SUBSTANTIAL DISCOUNT FROM CASHING IN SOME OF OUR NECTAR POINTS, I MIGHT ADD!"

Fook nodded, removing the gas mask for the time being, and connected it to his utility belt. "Sweet ticket, G-dawg," he nodded. "Keep that budget glossy and soon we'll stack enough paper to score you a new walkabout, dig?" The Wah traced his fuzzy fingertips over the handles of several blasters upon his weapons rack, selecting a pair of pistols to fill his holsters for this job.

"THAT WOULD BE EVER SO MUCH FUN! ROMPING AND TROMPING ABOUT WITH YOU ON A JOB, RUNNING DOWN BOUNTIES, ENGAGING IN HEROIC BLASTER FIGHTS! PEW PEW PEW PEW-"

"Chill, homie," Fook waved his paw. "I dug having you out there, but we gots to keep it professional, dig? And, dag, them sentry droid bodies are hella steep, yo. You gon' have to ghost for now, G, be here," he tapped the lens of his goggles, "before you can be out there again."

"AND HERE, OF COURSE!" Guan Yu's face appeared upon every screen inside the 36th Chamber, as the lights flickered on and off, and various electronics activated or moved.

"Hell yeah, dawg," Fook nodded. "Gotta have my best homie watchin' the crib!" He could feel the ship descending toward the city, and he glanced over his weapon rack again. A few more odds and ends were attached to his belt, mostly non-lethal, before unracking a dart rifle, as well as his net cannon. Armaments selected, he closed and secured his weapons lockers, then returned to the cockpit to buckle up for landing.

"Got leads on them feeds, G?" he called out, watching the city take shape through the front viewscreen, while his credentials flashed up verified from Empire Security.

"STILL WORKING. THE CROWD WAS SUBSTANTIAL, AND IT'S A RIGHT BUGGER OF A JOB TO TRACK THEM ALL. A PROCESSOR UPGRADE WOULD NOT GO AMISS."

"Noted," Fook replied. "Maybe that before a sentry droid. I know you want to Lu Bu that shit, but we gots a business to run."

"PAY BEFORE PLAY, I KNOW, SIR."

"And money before honeys," Fook laughed, then glanced at the bounty details again. "Though this honey's gon' make us a whole stack of money. Price-watch yourself a new processor."

"WILL DO SO AFTER CHECKING THESE FEEDS. DOWN TO TEN MEMBERS OF THE CROWD. SHOULD HAVE OUR BOUNTY TRACKED BY THE TIME YOU DISEMBARK."

"Do your thang, G. Bettin' homegirl is gonna be layin' low for a bit, waiting for this shit to blow over, so we got some time."

You bit off the end of a roll of bandage and looped it around your arm, securing it with sealant a moment later. You'd learned the hard way to go with sealant over adhesive strips when an entire arm's worth of wrappings had come undone and fallen free of your cloak while securing a location to bunk down on Zeltros. You had spent significant time there in hiding, recovering from your injuries. The pain in those early days had shaped you, focused your rage and desire for revenge into a razor sharp knife.

You lashed out in a forward strike, a practice dagger motion that would keep the blade mostly concealed near your palm to test the hold and again for good measure. No sign of looseness or slipping. Excellent. You weren't sure when you'd next be able to make use of a facility with clean and running water, and trading out your bandages properly had been a welcome relief. Standing you wandered to the sink and rinsed the medicinal ointment off your fingers, shaking them dry. How long could you do this? Run free this way, without assistance? You were fighting a war of attrition with your own body. Your wounds would eventually become too severe to manage in this way. You would either have to seek proper medical attention or burn yourself out over the next several years.

That was a worry for another day. And if you died. You died. Your time had been borrowed since the moment you awoke in that hospital bed. You had one goal, and only one goal after that. You had succeeded in it. HE lay dead and rotting someplace forgotten. It was enough for now.

"Looking for the best ride in Coronet City? Come on down to St'tack's Speeder Emporium, just off"

You turned the feed off and groused as pressed at your chest. The bandages were done. That left the wrapping. You walked back to the table and sorted through your rucksack for a clean compression roll. You would need to launder these soon, this was your last fresh wrap. Raising your arms you felt the medical grade material shift loosely against you, having come undone partially during your escape. You let it unwind slowly, dropping to the floor beside you as you kept your vision ahead, and ignored the peripheral from the mirror. You gripped the end of the clean roll in one hand, looping it around your upper torso in increasingly tight patterns, shifting and restraining as you tested each pass to ensure that it would hold properly. The clasps came last, fastening and holding the wrap in place as metal hooks dug into the end and found purchase against the previous loop. A pass of sealant over them would assure that they did not slip throughout the day.

You finally settled back into the stained love seat, tossing your bag beside it, that fashioned as the closest thing to a lounging area this dingy room afforded. You let a heavy sigh escape before reaching down to fish into the sack without moving your vision, drawing a small protein bar out from it, with a practiced motion you unwrapped it with one hand and bit into it, chewing slowly. You should get dressed soon, you could not risk being caught off guard.

It took a full thirty minutes for Fook to clear customs, and at least a dozen presentations of his guild ID card, and weapons permits. Time in which his quarry could have hopped some transport and have been hundreds of kilometers away by then. But at least they wouldn't be off-world. With discontent brewing on Corellia, all it took was one terrorist gas attack to shut down any outbound passenger flights, and Fook could only imagine how bad it would have been if someone had died from the gas. Being after the suspected terrorist was the only reason he'd even been given clearance to carry his weapons after the attack.

But there was no snark, no attitude given to the customs and security agents. They had a job to do, and it was Fook's job to comply with them, and prove he was one of the good guys. Whether security forces liked them or not, licensed bounty hunters were typically good guys, and a Hunt Master carried more legal clout than just a normal hunter. The Wah didn't even want to think about how many hours he would have lost in interviews if he'd been a rookie, instead.

What he did think about was what it would be like to be tall. At four feet, two inches in height, Fook had to muscle through crowds, and seek out whatever vantage points he could get. A heads-up display projected inside the lens of his goggles helped at least frame out streets and provide direction, but it didn't always help when you were staring square at the small of someone's back.

"Yo, G-dawg, you got this playa's crib yet?" he spoke quietly.

Guan Yu's face in the corner of his vision pursed his lips and shook his head. "I'M SORRY, SIR, BUT THIS SEARCH HAS PROVEN MOST DIFFICULT," the voice crackled as it peaked in Fook's in-ear monitors. "I'M DOWN TO THREE POSSIBILITIES, TWO IN ONE DIRECTION, ONE IN THE - NEVERMIND, THE THIRD IS NOT IT. PLOTTING A COURSE FOR THE REMAINING TWO, AND I'LL... OH DEAR, THAT'S NOT CRICKET."

Fook's fuzzy eyebrows crimped, and he snapped, "What ain't cricket, G? You didn't lose connection again, did you?"

"NO, THE LATEST TRANSMITTER UPGRADE HAS PROVEN MOST EFFECTIVE, SIR. AND EVEN IF NOT, I AM ABLE TO TAP INTO THE CORELLIAN CENTRAL NETWORK, AND -"

"Whip it to the hype shit, G," Fook warned.

"OF COURSE, SIR," Guan Yu's digital floating head nodded. "IT'S JUST THAT BEYOND A CERTAIN POINT, I CAN'T TRACK ONE OF THEM. IT SEEMS THAT SECURITY CAMERAS IN THAT AREA HAVE BEEN DAMAGED, LIKELY INTENTIONALLY. THE LAST IMAGE I GET IS ONE OF THEM HEADING INTO WHAT APPEARS TO BE SOME FORM OF LODGING ESTABLISHMENT, BUT IT'S A WIDE SHOT AT BEST."

"That's our girl, G," Fook stated. "Theater the route, and perimeter the cameras. Make sure homegirl don't bail, dig?"

"LIKE A LOTHMOLE, SIR!" Guan Yu laughed.

The bounty hunter said nothing in reply, instead watching as a direct path, including estimated time of arrival, appeared as an overlay in his vision as he broke into a run. At times like these, he wished he'd invested in a speeder bike, but at the same time he knew the headache of licensing and proving insurance on each and every planet he visited simply wasn't worth it. So he ran, ducking and weaving through the crowd, vaulting low walls, and scrambling over taller ones as he took as many shortcuts as Guan Yu could have predicted. He was close, he could feel it, and then...

...he could feel it.

His boots skidded to a stop on the duracrete sidewalk as the dingy motel from the wide-angle security cam shot came into view. Something inside him tingled, and his ears twitched and flicked as if searching for the source of some mysterious noise. "G, proof them bounty pages; any mention of homegirl being Force-adept?"

Guan Yu's animated face sported sunglasses again, masses of text washing over them, before the glasses faded and his head shook. "NOTHING WRITTEN ABOUT IT, SIR, NO. WHY, DO YOU SUSPECT JEDI INVOLVEMENT?"

"Not in this hood, G," Fook shook his head. "But somethin's up, I can feel it. Be ready on them controls, I might need backup."

"MIGHT I REMIND YOU, WE ARE NOT PERMITTED HEAVY WEAPONS FIRE IN AN URBAN AREA, SIR."

"Not what I'm asking' for, dawg," Fook replied, resuming his approach of the motel. "If I bag this shorty, gonna need that cell with the quickness, feel me?"

"I FEEL YOU, SIR."

"Tight," the bounty hunter nodded. "Page me if you see homegirl slippin' out the back. Grandmaster's goin' in."

Twenty-five thousand was a fair deal of credits to capture and return a teenage girl. But it was chump change when it came to a payout on a Force adept individual. Even less so if they'd had training. Part of Fook wanted to simply bail on the job, and had his quarry not gassed a crowd, he might have considered it. But she had, and that meant she was likely dangerous to others, so Fook couldn't simply let her go. Though while he could feel her, or someone near to her, odds were high that they might be able to feel him in return.

Pushing through the front door, Fook held up his Guild license first, slapping it against the transparisteel window to the desk agent's booth, then projected a holo-display. "Licensed bounty hunter. You seen this chick, dawg?" he stated in as deep a voice as he could muster. Stills from security cameras were displayed. "Need a room number, and for you to stay off the line with the cops, feel me?"

Your hood had just slipped over your head when you felt it. IT. Someone in passing, it had to be. Nothing more. But the more you tried to ignore it, convince yourself it was mere paranoia the stronger it got. The closer it got. What was it. Who was it. Why now? You knew why, don't play stupid. You don't smoke bomb your way out of a space port on a planet this high-strung without making someone mad. You turned and began gathering what few things had not already been put securely inside your rucksack, it was likely you'd need to leave and quickly. This was an Imperial world, and the last thing you desired was any meeting with the Knights of the Imperial Throne.

Had the units actually considered your potential, your gifts, rather than insisting it was mere coincidence or fantasy you may have ended up in their order yourself. A shuddering thought, indeed. To be trapped and bound by such rules and structure. To continue to wear the mask you had been asked, then forced, to wear by Tomas and Revea. That was not who you were. No matter how they had insisted. You shook such thoughts off, now was not the time to consider a life no longer your own. Now was not the moment to recollect on them, on the units, your parents. No. HER parents. She was not you. You were not her. She had been a construct of their minds when they couldn't accept the you that is you.

You finished packing, gathered up your tools and your knives, your vials and your salves and finally picked the mask back up, staring at it as a sigh escaped your shattered lips. The dark woman, Malleus had asked why you dressed like HIM. You hadn't intended to. The coverings, the mask, they were necessary to disguise yourself, to hide your injuries and disfigurement. You had seen him, after his death, seen what he was beneath his leather and coverings. The reflection of yourself in his limp form. What had scarred HIM so badly that he had hated all enough to send children to their deaths on his behalf? You'd never know now, you could only strive to be better than he had been. Even if you wore a face so reminiscent. You affixed it in place, securing it and tapping the side to assure the rebreather was active.

The feeling had continued to grow, continued to spread. They were downstairs. They were strong. No fight, flight. Your eyes went to the window, barred with thick metal, to the door which would surely open soon to reveal your opponent, you'd open it first. They were still down, you would go up. Out the door you went, not bothering to close it so as to not make additional noise and up the flight of stairs you continued. 3 stories, you were on second, third should have roof access. You'd leave from there. Let them wonder where you'd gone.

--

The night clerk blinked as he stared at the small bundle of fluff that had arrived then presented official documentation. The scruffy human, scratched some stray hairs from his chin and leaned in to look at the displayed stills. He did recognize the figure from the pictures, he wasn't sure he'd ever forget a face that burned. It'd haunt his nightmares. "Yeah, yeah I rented them, her? Man, couldn't tell that was a chick..." He rambled a bit, "Right, sorry. Yeah, I rented out a place up on the second floor a couple of hours ago. Uh... 223-B, I think. Just up the stairs there, man." He pointed down the hall to a spiraling staircase that disappeared into the ceiling. "Should be 6th room on the right after ya get up there." He paused, "Should... like should I lock the door down here or anything?" He asked, not wanting to do anything that'd get in the way of the hunter and potentially get the authorities brought into play. He didn't have an answer if anyone started asking about the stash of 'mood enhancers' he had in the desk.

"Yeah, hole up tight, dawg," Fook nodded. "I'm only rockin' non-lethal, but dunno what homegirl's slingin'. Shit goes flyin, hit with that duck and cover, feel me?"

Giving the night clerk no chance to respond, Fook dashed to the stairs, mounting them two at a time, despite his short legs. Tracking footprints in a common hallway was a fool's errand, so he disengaged that feature from his goggles, instead focusing on motel signage. 201-217 to the left, 218 to 230 to the right. Breaking to the right, the Wah 's boots squeaked on the ancient carpet as he dashed down the hallway, readying his stun pistols. A to the right, B to the left, he whizzed past room numbers. 221, 222, 223, he skid to a halt, then cursed as he saw the door to 223-B already ajar. With a mighty kick, he flung it open, stun blasters held out in front of him as he charged the room.

Empty.

"Dag, G! Homegirl done bounced!" he snapped. "You gots eyes?"

"I DO NOT AT THIS TIME," Guan Yu replied in his earpiece. "EXTENSIVE NUMBERS OF THE SECURITY CAMERAS IN THIS NEIGHBORHOOD ARE DAMAGED. IT'S ALMOST LIKE THIS MIGHT NOT BE A GOOD PART OF TOWN. I WONDER WHAT THE RENT IS LIKE."

"Not worth it, dawg. When all the cribs in yo hood got grills on their windows, you don't want to rent in that shit, feel me?"

Guan Yu's digital, disembodied head pondered for a moment in the upper right corner of Fook's field of vision, then nodded. "SOMETIMES A SAVINGS IS NOT WORTH THE RISK, I SEE!"

"Gots to pay if you want to play," Fook replied as he scanned the room for any sign of someone in hiding. The closet was empty, as was the bathroom, and no one was under the bed. All that was left was an old bandage, and the hunter bagged it up for later DNA testing, to confirm his target.

"MOVEMENT ON THE ROOF!" Guan Yu boomed in Fook's earpiece. The hunter needed no second urge to resume his hunt, bursting out the door and dashing back to the stairs.

"Is it her, G?" he asked. Taking three stairs at a time on the first flight, Fook simply vaulted the second set in a single leap, his boots scraping across the dust, dirt and debris upon the roof of the motel's third floor.

"I CAN'T BE CERTAIN, I ONLY SAW MOVEMENT FROM A DISTANT CAMERA. IT LOOKED LIKE AN ANT! AND YOU LOOK LIKE AN EVEN SMALLER ANT!"

"Not helping. Which way?" Fook turned, looking for the most logical path.

"EAST."

That was all Fook needed before he gave chase, his tail lashing and bobbing behind him as he sprinted, then leapt from the edge of the rooftop, clearing the gap to a balcony on the next building. Urban foot chases were always difficult, but what ate at the back of his mind was a question: How did she know he was coming?

You swore and cursed and filled your lips with all matter of profane language as you felt it, IT behind you still. You had not managed to buy as much time as you had hoped and your trail had already been picked up. The distance that should have come with the flight of freedom did not alleviate the sensation of another child of the Force. A Knight of the Imperial Throne, it must have been. Of all of the rotten luck you had gathered this would safely land in your top 5. You caught your grip on the emergency railing of one roof and dug your heel into it's cold metal as you launched yourself to the next platform. Rooftop to rooftop. Let the Force guide your path, direct it with the growing frustration at your poor luck like a rudder to direct it's current.

You would not let this planet be where your chains were forged, and certainly not because of the needling eyes of some tiny goblin child who had distracted you from your tasks. It was undignified. You could not continue to leap roof to roof forever, there were a finite number of buildings, you would have to make a stand or find a way to free yourself of your pursuer, your thoughts turned toward the path ahead of you and the looming building that now blocked your path. Even with an impressive vertical leap you were not going to be able to scale such an obstacle in a single leap, and you would lose ground if you were forced to climb. To ground level? It would only alert further authorities. Perhaps you should stand and fight? No, you did not know your enemy, and they had likely acquired data on you. It was too big a disadvantage.

You cursed again, spit a swear back at the jackal at your heels and leaped from the edge of the roof, catching the iron bars of a tightly locked window, before propelling the Force through your aching limbs to ascend, launching yourself from window to window, creaking metal echoing as you gripped each set of bars for purchase and hold. There was no chance your opponent would not catch up, you simply had to hope you could climb faster than they could, and that the Force was on your side this evening.

"DAMN AND BLAST, YOU ARE NO LONGER ON ANY CAMERA NETWORK I CAN CONNECT TO, SIR!" Guan Yu thundered in Fook's ear.

The Wah soared through the air in a fantastic leap, tail flying behind him like a banner, before landing at a full sprint on the rooftop beyond. "Chill, G," he spoke back. "I gots eyes on homegirl. Shorty is hella Force-adept, got some sick trainin' feel me? She's goin' all Scintillating Scorpion-Man up them projects."

"DO YOU REQUIRE ASSISTANCE? I COULD FEED YOUR LOCATION TAG TO LOCAL AUTHORITIES."

"Aw hell naw, dawg! No 5-0, Grandmaster's got this," Fook shook his head. He was catching up, gaining ground on his target as she attempted to flee. There was no doubt she was a Force user, and had at least some training. Those with raw power could occasionally accomplish amazing feats, but typically only once, while this woman seemed to be able to chain them with ease. Memories of his own training, leaping from tree to tree, scaling rock walls, and sprinting at inhuman speeds, flooded back to Fook, and the Wah smiled as he latched on to the first set of barred windows.

"Y'all wants to Rampage?" he chuckled. "Sucka, this game is my jam, yo!" Laughter rang out as he bounded from window to window in pursuit, half reveling in being able to exercise his powers freely, and half in relishing his race's natural climbing ability. Window by window, floor by floor, he began to close in on his quarry, and once close enough, he whipped out a stun blaster and fired off a shot. It refracted off the cladding beside her, his aim thrown off by his own swinging momentum.

"G," he then said. "Remind me to get a jetpack. Jetpacks are hella stunner!"

Mistake. You'd made a mistake, a gross tactical error. The beast at your heels seemed to excel at climbing and you were being overtaken, the stun bolt echoed sharply in your ears - amplified by the mask's audio receptors and you let out a low hiss of irritation and pain. You turned to see, clutching to the metal with one gloved hand to rotate. You blinked and felt your neck muscles crane in curiosity as you regarded the small Knight. Fuzzy, stuffed animals at the foot of a bed. You couldn't shake that thought. Like a toy in armor.

"No, no." You chimed, the voice modulation you had built into the mask after acquiring it on Jovan masking your broken vocal chords to something more immediately pleasing, though as androgynous as your robes made you. "There must be space between us, I insist." You stretched out one hand focused toward your pursuer, stretching out the Force and pressing. You waited just long enough to hear the rend of metal on the bars he himself hung from before spinning and forcing yourself past the next window to vault over the ledge. You had barely made that leap, and it was exhausting to have attempted. Still, you had no time for rest and recourse, and you immediately fell into a run.

This was not a Knight you recognized. Not the Selonian. Not the Twi'lek. None of the humans. You needed information, and you needed it immediately. You pressed the comm system at your ear and quick dialed.

--

- JOVAN STATION -

A scruffy young man sat back in the office of Black Hat Bay - Buy - Sell - Trade watching numbers flicker across a monitor. Void was watching Blob Racing from Monmoo's place the only way he actually cared to. By watching the bets come through and him skim microscopic percentages off. Rounding errors, was the easiest way to describe it. White collar crime, but it helped keep the lights on. When his comm buzzed he glanced down and nearly ignored it.

Sin.

Ever since he'd met the enigmatic Sith he always seemed to be under their thumb for one task or another. Certainly the payday was decent, but something about the hooded weirdo freaked him out. Still... credits were credits. He picked up and grumbled into the receiver.

"It's Void, what do you need?"

--

Good, good - your resources remained untapped. Sin was such a lovely little sort. A weasel who was good with numbers, and slicing and hacking and all the lovely work you needed done and didn't know how to do yourself.

"On Corellia." You said through labored breaths. "Coronet City. Which Imperial Knights are here."

--

Void blinked at the question, "I'm sorry - are... you asking me to slice into Imp files and find troop movements? Cause... that's a big request, buddy. Don't know if I can just pull that information out of thin-"

You were cut off by angry tones.

--

"NOW, BOY." You snapped sharp enough to cause feedback in the headset as you readied yourself for the next rooftop leap. "Time is key."

--

Damon considered just hanging up. Considered cutting the comm and the relationship all at the same time, let the robed freak fall to whatever was clearly chasing them and be done with it, but... this is what he lived for wasn't it? The thrill, the adrenaline, the absolute RUSH of a situation just like this? He spun his chair to an empty terminal and began to type.

"I can only get you some surface level slicing. Anything deeper is going to put too much risk on me without a better set up or time to plan. I'll try and at least get you names of any Knights stationed that way right now. Best I can do."

Fingers flew across keys and buttons as the slicer worked to find something to appease the Sith with. "Huh. Well... I got nothin'. A lot stationed back at Coruscant, one of 'em just heading toward Bespin, a few other outlying areas. But Coronet? Nothin' right now." He tapped the table and furrowed his brow, "Hold on, me check something." He moved away from troop movements and to incoming and outgoing requests to Coronet.

"Yeah, still nothing, Local garrison, travelers, one bounty hunter request for clearance. That's about it."

--

You blinked, considered, thought. No Knights? Then who was... Void's last statement rang out. Hunter. Armored, blaster-carrying, chasing, of course. Damn Kitans - this was their doing. "Appreciated, Void. Will wire credits when able." You ended the communication before another word could be uttered and thought. A force sensitive hunter was a dangerous enemy, but was it more dangerous or less dangerous than the Knights? You would have to see what limits it had, could you make the cost in attempting your capture high enough to force it to retreat? Your right hand dug into your pocket as you ran the finger along a vial. You couldn't keep outrunning it forever, and then that question would be answered.

The blast was unexpected, and worse, more accurate than his own shot. With only one paw on the window bars, the moment they bent he was at a severe disadvantage. The sort of disadvantage where you're at least seven stories up, and falling toward the ground below.

Why do they even have bars on windows seven stories up? He found himself wondering as the wind rushed past his fuzzy ears.

"SIR, YOU ARE FALLING! YOUR ACCELLEROMETER IS-"

"Can it, G!" Fook snapped. Already he had holstered his blaster, and was pulling up his net cannon. No time to aim properly, he simply fired it at the side of the building, praying it would tangle itself on more window bars. With luck, it did, and he clung fast to the cannon as the last of its cable played out, and he felt himself wrenched to a stop before swinging in to slam hard against the cladding of the building. When he bounced off, a sizable dent with numerous cracks were left upon its surface, and the Wah groaned, having only barely hardened himself prior to impact.

"Eyes?" Fook grunted.

"NOT AT THIS TIME, SIR. IT APPEARS SHE HAS GOTTEN AWAY," Guan Yu replied.

"Put a net cartridge on the order list. Keep watchin' them feeds."

"ARE YOU COMING BACK, SIR? I COULD PREPARE YOU A SNACK, IF YOU WOULD LIKE."

Fook clung on to his net cannon, attempting to catch his breath, and shook his head. "Nah, G. Homegirl's dangerous. Can't leave her on the streets. Gots to make that paper."

"MIGHT I BE SO BOLD AS TO SUGGEST TAKING THE TURBOLIFT, THIS TIME?"

"Yeah. Yeah, dawg, turbolift sounds mad floss."

A few minutes later, the bounty hunter found himself sailing upwards on a modest turbolift, to the sound of smooth jizz. The odds of his target still being on the roof were slim, at best, but at least it would be a good vantage point.

You had succeeded in buying some time, though you had not ceased your attempt at an escape, nor would you until you were off this planet, safely and distantly out of reach of the Empire, of this hunter, and of THEM. You hissed through your teeth at the memory of the pair, Tomas and Revea. The parental units, or rather the ones that claimed to be yours, no... hers. To them you did not exist, they insisted you be her, a thing that you knew was not real. They just couldn't accept who you were, what you were. So they dressed you in a costume, did your hair up pretty and paraded you about at high-society functions like a prize to be won and eventually traded off to improve their own status. They did not want a child, let alone the one they had, they wanted a doll.

You would not be dragged back to their pageantry and play acting. You risked a glance over your shoulder, the previous rooftop above you several stories as 3 buildings lay between there and here. You were, however out of rooftops to continue along. More high-rises and the ever present street was all that greeted you. Exit strategy, exit strategy... you slowed your pace as you got the edge of the roof to take stock in your options. Going to ground in the public would put you back on the grid, no odds worth taking that there weren't some shops around here with street level cameras - and you were back in the same gear you had smoked out the port in. Eyes were the last thing you wanted on you. You needed to hole up for the evening, for many evenings if possible. Win this through a war of attrition, if you must.

Zeltros.

Same strategy as Zeltros. Find a storehouse to nest in, keep yourself to the rafters, only move if absolutely necessary. Rations enough in the bag for a few days, a week if you spread them out, change of clothes to resupply once a week. One, maybe two months and you'd be forgotten about. Healing from your injuries, treating your burns with stolen supplies had taught you long-suffering. Silence for months with nothing but your hatred to keep you company, to keep you focused, had instilled patience into you. It would be boring, but that would make your inevitable return to the galaxy all the sweeter. The pain you would inflict, and have inflicted all the warmer. Yes, this was the way.

You jumped down from the roof to behind one of the high-rise buildings and began to work through the back alleys, in the shadow of these monolithic structures toward the industrial areas. You'd find your sanctuary there, certainly. For now keep off the main path and stay in shadow.

By the time Fook reached the roof, he knew his quarry was long gone. He would have expected no less, especially in someone trained in the Force - one does not target a Force blast on command, with a witty line of banter, without training, after all. So she was a Jedi. Or a Sith. One of the two, and the gas attack and terrorist label hinted at the latter.

"G, Rolodex me a Sith," he spoke out loud. "Hood, pointy mask, robes. Voice changer."

"PROCESSING NOW," Guan Yu replies. "BUT I SHOULD TELL YOU THAT WON'T BE NECESSARY."

"Why, you tight with this cat? Lay some knowledge on me, dawg."

"IT'S NOT THAT. IT'S JUST, WELL, I AM PLEASED TO TELL YOU THAT I KNOW WHERE SHE IS. CAMERA SPOTTED HER ENTERING WHAT APPEARS TO BE AN INDUSTRIAL STRUCTURE. OUT OF COMMISSION, ACCORDING TO CITY RECORDS. APPARENTLY THE OWNERS GOT INTO A FAIR SPOT OF BOTHER AFTER ONE OF THEM WAS CAUGHT SLEEPING WITH-"

"Woah, G!" Fook cut him off, even holding up a paw. "I done told you, players play, players don't explain their game, feel me?"

Guan Yu's avatar on his HUD nodded. "A MOST HEINOUS PARTY FOUL, I APOLOGIZE, SIR."

"S'all good, G," Fook replied, looking out over the city beyond as the wind ruffled the fuzz on his ears. "You gots surround on that building?"

"YES, THANKFULLY. I HAVE NOT SEEN HER MAKE EXIT. I WILL PLOT YOU A COURSE. SHALL I PURSUE THE LIBERTY OF CALLING THE LOCAL AUTHORITIES TO ARRANGE A PERIMITER?"

Overlaid onto the scenery, a red line appeared in Fook's vision, leading down the building, and around a few corners to a highlighted area. Running a paw through his headfur, he then lowered his arm to take a look at his wrist, expecting to find his chrono there, then remembered he was suited up. A simple glance at the clock in his HUD delivered a sigh. "Nah, badges would be itchin' for that retaliation, dawg. They ain't ready for no Force playa. They'd try to step, but homegirl ain't gon' recognize, feel me? Grandmaster's gotta do this old school. Solo."

"SIN."

An ear perking, Fook glanced at Guan Yu's avatar. "Play that back?"

"THE SITH YOU ASKED FOR. I USED IMAGES OF OUR QUARRY AND COMPARED THEM TO ANY DATABASES OF KNOWN SITH, AND WOULDN'T YOU KNOW IT, I GOT A MATCH! IT TURNS OUT OUR TARGET ISN'T OUR TARGET, AS SIN IS LISTED AS BEING A MAN."

"Man? Dag, yo, then how'd homegirl's genetic code turn up on them scanners?"

"QUITE THE MYSTERY! ISN'T IT EVER SO GRIPPING?"

"No, it ain't, G!" Fook snapped. "If this ain't homegirl, then is hella whack, and ain't no paper on this job, dig?!" His tail lashed behind himself as he carried on his conversation with a person no one else could see or hear. "Run that shit again! Playa, I need straight mack, is this is, or is this ain't homegirl? Gots a bandage, I'll get it scanned, but you best check before we wreck, G. Homeboy ain't chasin' no Sith cat if he ain't gettin' paid! That shit is mad whack!"

As he fired off his tirade, the Wah removed the bagged bandage, and pulled it open so that he could lay part of the bandage over the biological scanner embedded in his wrist computer.

"THIS... WILL TAKE SOME TIME, SIR," Guan Yu warned in a timid voice.

"As long as homegirl is in that building, we gots time. I'm gon' bounce down there and set up on the down-low. Split yo threads and keep peeps on them cameras, warn a playa if she makes to ghost."

"STEAKOUT AND CHILL, I UNDERSTAND," Guan Yu nodded.

Fook didn't reply, instead taking the elevator back down. He could wait for his quarry to make the wrong move. Or wait to see if this was truly Sin, and Fook was on the trail of the wrong person. In either case, he soon found himself hopping a tall fence, and slipping into a security guard gatepost, where he could watch the building Guan Yu had identified. He could wait, and parts of him wanted to wait. There was nothing quite like sneaking up on a target in their sleep.

The warehouse was a worse choice than you had anticipated. It had been left to fester and rot, the obvious signs of age and lack of care being all too made clear when you had made your way up a ladder to the second story only to have a rung snap off under your feet. A quick flick of your wrist had caught the metal bar with the Force and you'd brought it safely down to rest. No noise, no sound. This was your silent little den in which you would wait this entire infuriating ordeal out in. Away from that hunter. Away from the Empire. And away, thankfully for it, from that terrible little goblin that had started this collapsing campaign.

That child should pray and thank whatever star they had been born under that had rescued it from your grasp. Still, there was much to do before you would be comfortable enough to attempt to rest. The first was to find someplace secure enough in the rafters to ensure you would not tumble off as you got quick naps throughout the day. Short periods of rest to keep from needing long bouts of sleep had become your standard practice. Sleeping deeply, and through the night was a fool's errand - you had learned that long before you'd ever associated yourself with your former master. It had been a cruel, violent lesson that had cost you all the belongings you had managed to scramble away from the Kitan's home with. As well as left scars that were now hidden under fresher, more wicked injuries. No, you would sleep 30 minutes at most every 3rd hour - you could not afford more than that.

Your search, at least, had been successful. A place near the rear east corner of the building's upper floor with a crossing series of rafters and a palate beneath from whatever useless detritus had been stored here. If you were to lose your balance through the night the worst injury you would suffer would be a short fall to the palate bellow. A rude awakening and little more. At long last you settled down, crossing your legs and leaning your head to rest against the durasteel wall with a frustrated groan. You should at least attempt 30 minutes before beginning the long wait. It couldn't hurt anything to just close your eyes for a moment, surely.

You brought your hands up and smacked either side of your mask with a practiced precision, snapping your senses clear. No. Stick to the plan, stick to the schedule. No errors. No mistakes. You will not allow yourself another miscalculation like you had on the rooftop. This hunter was not to be underestimated. Begin your meditations, focus on your anger. You will sleep in 3 hours. You closed your eyes and let the silence of the building wrap itself around you, remembering the searing pain and burning agony that had brought you here. To this moment. Focus on the fire it had sparked inside, remember the overwhelming desire to live and seek your revenge.

Breath in, breath out. Remember the only proper training that child-killer had ever given you.

Peace is a lie. There is only Passion.
Through Passion I gain Strength.
Through Strength I gain Power.
Through Power I gain Victory.
Through Victory my chains are Broken.
The Force shall free me.

Remaining free is my Passion.

I wish I was a little bit taller.
I wish I was a baller.
I wish I had a girl who looked good,
I would call her.

The song's refrain ran through Fook's head as he sat back in the old guard chair, footpaws propped up on the desk as he watched the building ahead of him for any sign of movement. Of course there wasn't any, nor had there been for hours. The claws of his thumb and forefinger lifted a slice of bamboo shoot from its tin of spicy chili oil, and he crunched on it as he waited. And waited.

"Hittin' sleep mode, G," he said, leaning back further in the chair. "Hit me up if you scope any movement."

"NATURALLY, SIR. I SHALL BE PROUD TO TAKE THIS SECOND WATCH!"

Nothing happened for several more hours, beyond rush hour traffic, and the setting of the sun. Fook woke once or twice, getting updates from Guan Yu, then popped the top on a can of stimcaff. As midnight rolled around, he watched the doors. Some marks thought that midnight would signal a new day, and was the idea time for escape, when in reality it was the worst. The best time for escape was 2:30 AM, when everyone was tired out, and had lost focus. Another nap, then another stimcaff, and Fook finally eased out of his chair at around two fifteen.

"Okay, G, lock-in at the rec center," he muttered. Guan Yu gave no reply, save to nod from the upper right corner of his HUD, followed by a schematic of all the exterior doors on the warehouse.

With his goggles set for night vision, the Wah crept around the building, a scrap durasteel bar in one paw, and what appeared to be a blaster energy cell in the other. But just like his size, appearances could be deceiving. As he approached the main doors, Fook smiled. Durasteel doors, durasteel hinges, durasteel frame. Too easy. A dial on the side of that energy cell was turned all the way down, before he clicked a hidden button. His night vision deactivated as a yellow light flared to life in the form of a short yellow lightsaber blade, perhaps only ten inches long, emitted from that energy cell. Pressing the tip of his durasteel rod to the top hinge, Fook brought his saber close to it, just barely touching, and watched as both band hinges melted together. The act was repeated on all four hinges, then between the doors themselves, welding the doorway shut. With stealth and speed, he circumnavigated the warehouse, sealing each door in the same way, until only one single doorway remained.

"Goin' in," he whispered over his comm, shutting off his lightsaber, then spinning the dial back up. "Eyes on that roof, dawg. Might be some hatch we ain't got mapped, and there's that skylight shit."

"I WILL ALERT YOU IF I SEE ANY MOVEMENT."

"Sweet ticket. And be on me with the quickness with that cell if I page, dig?"

"I DIG."

Fook simply nodded, and Guan Yu restored his night vision. A small bottle of oil silenced the hinges of the door before him, while a Force-assisted, crush of the handle sheared the bolt which held it shut. Drawing a stun blaster, Fook pulled the door open and crept inside, then closed it after himself. The warehouse was dark, the only light within filtering down from dirty skylights overhead, and he looked around carefully. Schematics and cameras had allowed him knowledge of the exterior, but inside was a unknown territory, with a Force-adept mark who could be anywhere. "Thermal, overlay at fifteen percent, G," he whispered, and watched as the colors in his view changed slightly. But there was no figure, and so he crept deeper into the warehouse, seeking out his prey, all while hoping there was no sewer access she might have slipped down. Sewers were the worst; all wet, and smelled like ass.

The thought was a sober reminder to reach for his gas mask, clipping it into place along the underside of his goggles. If she had gassed a transit platform simply to escape detection, who knew what she would do when cornered.

You didn't dream, you hadn't dreamed in years. Your sleep schedule prevented that - but what you could have were visions, fueled by the Darkside as it worked with you, through you.

"...essa. Welcome home." A flash of the parents, of yourself, of a room in the basement of your old home - closed and locked from view. That room was important, you just didn't know why yet, or why the Force was showing you Tomas and Rivea Kitan. There was no reason you would ever return to...

A chiming in your comm brought your senses back to sharp attention, your 30 minutes were up - you would inspect the location and then. A cold wind fell on you, despite your wrappings and you felt your eyes narrow, searching, considering. Something was wrong, you closed your eyes and breathed in then out. Reaching out with the Force to find...

Your pursuer.

It was a persistent little toy, wasn't it. You should kill it, snap it's tiny, adorable neck and use it for a pillow. It's what the Darkside wanted from you, it's what you wanted for yourself, but... would it make good tactical sense? You did not know what it's armament was. You did not know what it's level of skill was. You had no information outside of the likelihood that it was a bounty hunter. Even that was merely an educated guess. No. No. Not here, not yet. Exits, survey exits. Front doors, side entrance, rear docking bay. No good windows other than the ones above you, just as likely to cut your robes and coverings to ribbons as it were to actually provide a manageable escape. No, last resort only. ONLY.

You had a higher vantage point than it likely did at least, and if it knew where you were there would have been no reason to not take you while you were resting. You should be able to simply slip past. You latched your travel bag back together, and slung it close, careful not to let it make a sound you began to skulk along the beams above, trying to find a glimpse of the hunter, if you knew where it was, you would know what exit to use.

The test Fook had run on the bandage came back positive. The robed gasser was his target, without a doubt, though it told him little else. But it was enough to gain his full attention, and map out a strategy. About five years on the run, she had surely learned how to hide from the average cop or security officer. Adding some Force training on top of that - possibly not much judging from the clumsy blast he'd been dealt - and some training on gasses and explosives, she could be a difficult mark. However, she'd run instead of facing him, and then attempted to hide, which meant that homegirl wasn't sure of herself, and was praying that he would make a mistake so she could get away.

It would have been easy to have the police surround the warehouse, but there were three downsides which prevented him from calling the authorities in.

1. Potentially lethal gas attacks. Fook's reputation as a bounty hunter, as well as his own conscience, would suffer if an officer of the law was killed due to one of his judgement calls.
2. With her gassing the station, it was likely that the cops would refuse him his bounty after capturing her, and Fook liked getting paid.
3. Force adept. There was little telling what homegirl was capable of, and if it came down to a Force vs Force battle, his own prowess was something Fook did not wish to blatantly advertise.

So he stuck to his learned tactics, remaining in the darkest of shadows as he scanned the interior of the warehouse, strafing around its outer edges until he wound up by the large back doors. No sign of life yet. Nothing. "Thermal overlay forty percent," he whispered. Shades of blue and green came to him, painting the walls, pillars, and remaining crates of goods, but there was no hint of yellows or reds to indicate a life form. Then it dawned on him: she was robed, and masked. Getting a thermal image through full clothing could be difficult. "Sixty percent."

Moving beyond forty was risky, especially in the dark, as color could overwhelm his vision, making it difficult to see things which were directly in front of him, but it was a necessary risk. A risk which paid off. There, in the rafters, a faint red glow, indicated someone had been lying against it, a hint of residual body heat remaining. Keeping his attention high, the Wah scanned beam after beam, until at last he saw it: the warm, dark orange shape of a body, and it was looking the other way. "Thirty percent," he whispered, scarcely able to maintain visual afterward. "Gotcha."

Holstering his blaster, he stood by the large back doors and unslung his dart rifle. Loaded with tranquilizer, he shouldered it and took aim, finding that familiar glow through its scope. "Sleep," he whispered through a grin behind his gas mask, and pulled the trigger.

Still no sign of the beast, nothing obvious, nothing clear. You were learning to hate the walking throw pillow, it had to be here somewhere, somewhere...

You didn't feel the sting against your skin, no it was the pressure of your robes shifting, moving, the slight puncture of your bandages. The actual strike felt like nothing, too many herbal mixes to numb what pain you did feel, and too many injuries to feel much of anything else. Your hand trailed over where it had hit, searching until the small tranquilizing dart rested in your palm allowing you to glance at it. You were discovered! Cottony fog filled your head, that same intense desire to sleep you had pushed away earlier, now induced by chemicals - a growl emitted from you, low and hateful. Had you been anyone else, anything else this would be over.

But you were a machine. Fueled by hatred. Powered by passion. He had underestimated your resolve, just how much wear and tear this pathetic body had already endured and the resistances that had developed due to it. That mistake would be his last. No more running, there was no point in it. It still had the upper hand, though. It could apparently see you, and you still could not see it.

Let's fix that. Your left hand dug into your robes, found the pockets where you stored each vial - separated, secured. Second left, three vials left. Three? You should have had 4, why was one... no time to think of that now. You palmed all three and stood from your crouched position tossing each in rapid succession to the floor below striking near the rear of the warehouse, the center and the front. Each erupted with light as the vials shattered and the previously separated mixes of nitrates and reagents came into contact with each other and the open air. You swung yourself down along the durasteel rafter and propelled your body toward the upper walkway sliding behind some storage boxes before ducking your head up to search, eyes scanning for shadows being cast from the new light sources that didn't belong. The heavy fog on your brain would keep you off your best game, but you were confident that your attacker couldn't get another shot on you without your knowing.

"LEAVE ME ALONE." You bellowed out, a slight electrical crack coming from the audio modifier. Your left hand wrapped around another vial in your pocket and waited for a response, either through movement or response. Come on little womprat, show us where you are.

Sharp bursts of colorful light flared in Fook's HUD as the chemicals in each vial flashed with heat as they reacted with the surrounding air, before dissipating, and the light from the explosions lingered as purple flares in his vision. Gas. Perhaps the same kind as the platform, perhaps something different. The bounty hunter had neither the time, nor the onboard equipment to tell, so he sucked in a deep breath and attempted to hold it as he scanned for his target's heat signature. She'd moved quickly, faster than he'd expected after a full dose of tranq. Either it meant she was hopped up on some kind of drug, providing chemical resistance, or she was using the Force to counter the sedative's effects. Either one was bad news, as he searched the rafters for her.

"You're wanted alive," he called out into the darkness as the reaction of the vials faded. Immediately Fook kicked himself for speaking, as it meant he had to draw in a breath. The filters on his gas mask helped, but immediately he could feel a tingle of numbness on his throat and lungs. Some manner of paralyant, it had to be. Already moving to keep his position a mystery, the wah took up a position behind a durasteel pillar, where he hoped he might be out of the gas's range.

"Either I take you in, or the cops take you down!" He shouted, voice echoing through the warehouse. "You gots to trust me, homegirl. I'm the only way you gettin' out of here alive." Fook continued to move, the pads on the soles of his boots soft, and making little sound as he scampered from point to point. If his target could see him, she held the advantage in the moment.

You scanned the shadows, counted, watched. Where was the talking pet? You thought you caught movement near a beam, but the foggy edges of your vision kept you from being certain. Your own movements remained low, steady, Do not linger in any spot too long, do not allow him any opportunities to discover you once more. Even as the plan formed it faltered, and a low growl rung under your mask at the use of that particular epitaph. You shook it off, you had to. No time to let yourself be distracted.

"The Authorities here are not a concern." You rumbled out, making sure to let your electronically accented voice echo against the ceilings and mask where you hid. "You, however..." You snapped low and sharp, vicious hatred coating each word. "You can either leave, scramble back and inform Tomas and Revea that this futile hunt is over, or I can skin you and wear you as a pelt."

He had been by the beam, but had moved. Their actions mirroring two pieces of a Dejarik board as they looked for the opportune moment to strike, you had always hated Dejarik. It was a slow game, a thinkers game. The kind of game he would have played, strategy and misdirection. You preferred a more direct path, and as soon as you had that path you would be on this little lint ball, and this would be over.

The vials you had thrown before were merely to help light up the area, though they did have a slight paralytic effect, it wasn't enough to take down this creature, but it should assist you in being able to make your first, and final, attack once you knew where to jump down at. The other vial you had palmed was nothing as benign as your little 'glow sticks,' and if you could merely get him within breathing range you could be rid of this little irritation.

Fook cursed the chemical glow from the three burst vials, as they radiated not only light, but heat, making his thermal imaging overlay all but useless. Worse yet, they didn't seem to be dying out as quickly as he would like, still flaring with light, compromising multiple avenues of approach. And without knowing where his target was, his tranq rifle would be useless - not to mention a second dart could possibly prove fatal, as it had been rated for her body size and weight, and too much could induce heart failure. So it was stun pistols, and possibly lightsabers if it came down to it. The bounty said alive; maimed was still technically alive. Not exactly the desired approach, but if it meant bringing her in, and getting out of this still breathing, it was an option Fook would entertain.

Entertain. The thought brought about an idea. On his belt was a small portable speaker, the kind meant for some good tunes while hanging around on stakeout, without fully blocking your ears. Not the sort of thing useful for actual bounty hunting, but it did provide him with an opportunity.

"Yo, G-Dawg, can you pipe to my jambox?" He whispered inside his mask.

"NATURALLY, SIR! IT WOULD BE SIMPLE ENOUGH TO ROUTE A SIGNAL TO-" Guan Yu's booming voice in his earpiece made his ears flick with annoyance.

"Yes or no's all I needed, G. Do it, set volume to max," Fook replied. "Pick up from my mic, got it?"

"UNDERSTOOD. NOW LINKED."

The wah said nothing in reply, even keeping his breathing quiet as he edged around to a post. There, he removed the speaker from his belt, and used its built-in magnet to attach it to the durasteel beam, before slipping away, and darting between crates and other pillars in the darkness until he was on the other side of the warehouse. Eyes trained on the rafters, he re-enabled his thermal HUD with a lower opacity on the overlay, and scouted for any signs of heat. Nothing, she must be hiding well. Okay, now to draw her out.

"Dag, yo. You humans be straight jelly 'bout fur. Always wantin' to wear a brother like that. Shit is whack, homegirl. That shit is straight whack." While spoken at normal volume in his facemask, it came much louder from the speaker attached to the pillar across the way. Raising his stun blaster pistols, Fook watched for any sign of movement. Anything to take a shot at.

You bristled against the nickname it had given you. Homegirl. You quickly moved to calm your anger, focus it for your hands around it's fuzzy little throat. Do not become distracted. It had positioned itself behind a beam, the voice strong and clear and... you tilted your head ever so slightly to listen. Too clear. The fuzzy little thing had been wearing a rebreather or mask of some sort, had it not? Your eyes narrowed in thought. Had it removed it, or were you simply misunderstanding what you were hearing. No visual, only audio clues to his position. It was a risk, but the risk was necessary. You had to end this stalemate.

You could throw the vial from your position, pop up long enough to engage and then sink back into your hiding places amongst the rafters - that was the smart play - but you wanted your hands around it's throat, you wanted the pleasure of seeing the life drain from it's eyes for forcing you into this situation. Of taking out your rage and frustration toward Tomas and Revea on their chosen avatar. Besides you needed close, direct contact to insure the full effects of the chemicals. No opportunity for it to run or stumble away enough to avoid the gas and fumes. Your own mask would filter it, it had been designed to do so - but there was no telling how much effect it would have through his. You had to get close enough to strike.

You took a deep breath in, a deep breath out and focused on your mantra.

Peace is a lie. There is only Passion.
Through Passion I gain Strength.
Through Strength I gain Power.
Through Power I gain Victory.
Through Victory my chains are Broken.
The Force shall free me.

In an instant you were up from your crouched position, hands wrapping against the metal of the beam and using it as a brace to launch yourself at the location of the sound, even as you descended your vision widened. You had expected some sign of life there, even if hidden. Instead as the corner finally came into view there was nothing but open air, metal and a small electronic box. You swore at yourself beneath your mask and immediately committed yourself to hit the ground running so as to acquire a new defensive position.

Fair move, throw rug, your point.