...Anger Leads to...

[Lamar Starworth]

Lamar walked.

Each foot infront of the day. It was like childhood. Back on Coruscant, there were millions. The Imperial Center was bustling, all the time. Everyone was in a rush. People were blasting from here to there. There were too many destinations to count. The young had to learn fast. Mind-boggling was the word. But, that speed made Lamar what he was.

Step after step, he remembered.

The crowds thinned. The darkness was growing. Alley ways were forming. Lamar was eased. His eyes closed as the pushes stopped. The predator wasn't shoving anymore.

He was fine to move. Signature move time, locked and ready. It was a yank, a sweep, and slash, and pivot step. The laser sword, or was it a lightsaber, or bright wand, sliced at the man's blaster.

WOOO-HAAAH

Lamar didn't say that. He wouldn't. But his action deserved such a caption. He was graceful, smooth, elegant and of course a Jedi. The stance had been made. Lamar had planned this. It should have been forseen, but somehow it wasn't. Maybe because the former Imperial agent was so keen, so fast.

Hard to say, really, but the battle was set. Time to fight!

WOOO-HAAAH

[Zephyr]

Zephyr didn't hear the WOOO-HAAAHs , but it sure seemed like he did. Behind that mask of his was a wide mouth, confused. However, he was quick, witty, clever. There was no faulting his stride. Even as watched the fantastical display, he was conjuring up a new move. Ever on his toes was this one, this Zephyr had the experience of swoop racing to aid him.

All that speed, it kept the mind sharp. Lamar wasn't the only one that used the culture to his advatanage.

In an elegant showcase of footwork, he danced backwards, and let gravity take him back. His body went into a bend. Hands planted firm on the floor, he began to flip. The legs were out-stretched, so it was clear what was going to happen next. But Lamar wouldn't be able to stop it, his feet were coming up way too fast.

Zephyr was just at the right distance too...

[Lamar Starworth]

Foot, jaw and bada-boom.

The chin music went Boom! He flipped. He flopped. He was a piece of slop. Lamar was coasting through the air. Eyes weren't around, but if they were, they would be wide. It was like a slow-motion death scene in a holovid. The body thwarted in the air, as spit dove out of his open mouth.

All the world went in reverse. Lamar was like a glass bottle in the air, being taken off the ground in a catapult. Zephyr was somewhere, finding his balance, while the Jedi was trying find up from down. Then, when he did, he heard something. Felt something. It went...

SPLAT!!

Then, he was there. On the ground, near senseless. It was black for a second. A concussion. Still, there was room to move. Energy bolted through him. It was called adrenaline, and Lamar had to use it. Pushing off the ground in a rush, he came to his feet in a huff. Eyes blood shot, and face scathed with dirt and probably a bruise, he stared at the man.

He was ready for more. Problem was that somewhere in that flight the lightsaber had gotten loose from his grip. The last thing he was thinking of while he went flying was his hands, and that was evident. Lamar's eyes restrained from looking around, but they did...carefully.

The Jedi couldn't trust Zephyr's honor. Taking his eyes off for even a milisecond was trouble. But the former Stormtrooper couldn't help to be in trouble. He had a bounty on his head...clearly.

"Frell."

[Zephyr]

A grimace marred under that mask of his. That mask that couldn't be seen through, just seen at. The thing, the mask, looked horrifying. Perfect, really. It was how this Zephyr saw life, so it fit. To him, to this swooper, the galaxy was a horrible excuse of his expectations. Somewhere a long the line of his rough life, around the start, he was given these wants by society. Maybe it was the Empire to blame, or was it the Galactic Republic of old, but he thought success was attainable.

Now, all he was doing was pressing buttons on his forearm and unleashing a fire from an attatched flame thrower.

Truth be told, he sort of liked that. He was familiar with killing, destroying, so it was enjoyable. Fun. Not laugh out loud funny, but thought worthy.

"Time to die, Jedi."

Coolness still was in that voice, but not the air. The air was heating up. The flame was coming out, and if the once-upon-a-time Imperial didn't move, he would be torched.

[Lamar Starworth]

The fire licked at him. Movement was still possible. Lamar had a whole alley way behind him. The earth crumpled under his feet. He moved restlessy, stepping back. His mind went adrift, rushing to possibilities. Already he was without his lightsaber, and at odds, but more could be done.

The Jedi had to think fast. And think fast, he did. In a jolt, his hand went up. Palm open, eyes stern, he sent the flames packing back at their sender. The wind went out in a gust, but the source was magical.

The Force.

[Zephyr]

He was quick.

He swooped to the side. The alley wall was far enough, he wouldn't hit it. So, he rolled. The fire was coming back at him, he had to dodge. Lifting back to a stand, back pressed to the wall, he prepared. The next move was up. He was set.

Zephyr twisted his body, and let his arms move naturally. They dangled at his side, but momentum pushed them back up. With them came a firm grip, and it held a blaster. Not a second was given to think, or halt. The Zephyr pulled, and the blast was shot.

His aim wasn't the head. And it wasn't for the body, either. No, it was for something lower.

[Lamar Starworth]

"AAAAAHHHHH!!!!"

He would have jumped. He would have dodged. He would have, if he could have. The man was regrouping himself. After a blast of fire, kick to the chin, it was hard to get that adrenaline pumping to the legs and get up. It was fast, too close, and hard to move.

Even Jedi need a small breather before attacks. Zephyr knew that. Zephyr needed one too, but the advatange he had was it wasn't all physical. Blasters even the playing field, and without a lightsaber to call on it was hard to deflect. Especially in such moments that they would be most required, such as shots to the leg.

He was hampered.

Lamar let out the yell, toppled against the wall, and held himself. He wouldn't fall. He wouldn't allow that. The Jedi wasn't going to give up that easy, his eyes were still on the lightsaber. It could be called. Despite the shot, he still had the Force on his side.

[Zai]

---Delete---

[Zephyr]

Off the wall, into a stand Zephyr went. The dark swallowed his shadow. Aside stood the tall building, hunched with a walk way. A tranquil lull was known to this planet, this area, and the wind could be heard whimpering around the man. It wheezed, breathed uneasy. Zephyr stood stout. The omnious dark of Zephyr's eyes stared through. About was a black, and it patterned well with those eyes of his. He was a predator.

A long his mouth was a vent. Air was huffed out. He had worked. Each second another heave escaped him, whisping away with the weeping breeze. The wind swept pass, twirling back into the streets, the traffic. Steps could be heard from the alley. Zephyr was boiling. Anger, frustration, it was all there. One foot after enough crumbled the earth under. Marsh soil sat there, gritting together with the bulk of pebbled paving. Normally feets would tap, not bang.

Zephyr's feet banged.

The heaviness in his legs thread together in a weighty trot. Once more the breeze swooped back in, and out. It dashing off, straying from the men, their presence, and the fear. The wind captured many. Folks walked the street, ignorant. Children played the grounds with balls, and laughter. People troubled themselves with market talk, chit-chat. A few local politicans amble together in a flaunt. Power swarmed this small town, this small spaceport. Few flights could be heard over head. Not many came to this world.

It wasn't a hot spot.

So, when the kid's balls trickled into to the street, they ran. Parents, of course, scolded. But, they only scolded, didn't fear. Speeders weren't blasting pass in a rush. Destinations were few and far between, at least in terms of eventful ones. Most the mundane matters, events, buildings, and businesses were within walking distance. The need for hovercrafts were slim. All the city's sounds were lull. Quiet.

The bounce of the kid's ball could be heard. The tap on the pebble like a playful whisper. Even the deeper tapping of the following boy was of fun. Seriousness didn't make a sound here. Not often, at least. When it did, heads went up, most the time. This time, however, only one head went up when they heard it. But maybe it was because the sound wasn't so serious as it was alarming...

BLOOF!!!!

The kid picked up the ball, only to look down the street where it came.

[Raurn Tarplas]

A sigh. That was all that was needed.

He turned. Then toppled off the rock, flipped his flaps, and slowly trotted off. No words right away. That wasn't Raurn's style. But they came eventually, after a few paces.

'We can go now..."

[Zeel Attond]

Was it moments?

Was it minutes?

It was hard to really grasp the amount of time in difference. However, it was clear there was a difference in time. Minute as it may have been, there was a difference. The visuals said so. No golden, no brown, no footsteps, no ball. A little time had change. The clock had struck a bit. The culprit was gone. It was safe.

And so, with it safe, came something unsafe. Or so it seemed so in sound. Despite how low, how weak, how hard it was to grasp, the sound was - it did come. It was creeping. The tap that pebbles should have had was more like an unk. An unk there, and an unk closer. The steps were zooming in.

On the floor was a hand. Not dismembered, or disassembled, or anything of that sort, just a hand. The hand was still attached to the body, and that body wasn't much anymore. Still, it was attached. Limped over, slunk a long the floor, the hand was reaching for something. Of course, the hand, and that body was quite useless at this point, but it was reaching for whatever it was worth.

Sad part was it wouldn't get it. Those unks, those steps, were coming closer and the aim wasn't the body. No one could help that body now. That once bright, brown skin of a body was now without anything to motivate it. No soul, no heart, or...well at least the heart wasn't pumping blood anymore. The body was lifeless. Worthless. Of no account.

The only account that matter was the one recorded. Those creeping feet had captured it all. Safely. All of it, taken down, from afar. Hunched over, knees bent, black hair trickling, green skin sparkling, tattos barley showing, the reached for item was gone. A clean sweep. The item was gone, and the character was too.

As fast as the figure crept in, it crept out. Gone with the wind.