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Chapter 92:

Yoshiro 

He could hear the alarms blaring across the facility, his eyes darting in their sockets as the cameras and security feeds they’d sliced into months ago were booted up, giving him instant and total coverage of the entire Grind. 

His men didn’t need orders; he could already hear boots pounding across the metal floors, commands being barked, roll calls being made. 

They’d be fully armed and armored within two minutes at most, armed and in position for a fight in three or four. 

His men did not concern him. They were Mandalorians.

In any other circumstance, he’d be more than ready to leave no survivors.

In any other circumstance, he was sure he’d succeed.

Forty skilled, veteran Mandalorian warriors in full wargear, against a paltry six royal guards, a handful of mediocre Jedi, and a smuggler?

It wasn’t even a contest.

But this wasn’t ‘any other circumstance’.

It wasn’t ‘any other enemy’.

“Sir, we’re retreating, enemy in pursuit!”

He answered the call, fingers gripping the handheld holo harshly. “Can you divert them!?” he asked. “We need more time!”

A crackle, the chirps of blaster fire and the howling of jetpack engines. “Already trying! She’s coming in too fast!”

He switched the camera feed to the helmet cams of the two men.

There she was. 

Flying after his men, Dallon looked like a Jedi legend ripped straight out of an old holovid. Dressed in white robes and armor that stood out all the more resplendently amidst the grime and filth of Nar Shaddaa, she flew like a gleaming lance, straight and true. 

Her saber deflected the blaster shots of his two men with contemptuous ease, when she even bothered with that. Some shots she just ignored; those fell away from her like water droplets on stone.

He ground his teeth together, fingers clutching the holo. 

What was it? What was her weakness?

But he didn’t find it there and within another second, Dallon caught up to one of his men, her armored fist tearing through his jetpack to send him careening in an out of control spin. His armor might survive, but the man inside would not.

The other man rushed her, reversing his momentum mid flight to go on the offensive, drawing a beskar knife that she avoided with the mere tilt of her head before a lazy backhand struck the Mandalorian soldier in the stomach so hard that his whole body folded like cheap tin. The inside of his helmet was suddenly covered in blood, the interior camera awash with red. 

“Open this frakking door!”

The scream did not come from his holo, but from the intercom. He recognized who it was without even needing to look.

The Sith.

Right outside his door.

He snarled. “You led them right to us!” he roared into the receiver, furious, his hand hovering over the automatic defenses. 

His men had managed to draw away Dallon. It had bought them at least a few more minutes to prepare, to purge data and do anything else that could feasibly be done.

And this dumb schutta had just thrown their sacrifice away!

“They know you're here anyway,” She  hissed, looking over her shoulder. She was fast, fast enough that she’d managed to gain some distance on her enemy, but they were closing fast. Thirty seconds, according to the cameras he still had tracking them, maybe less. 

“Open the gate!’ she demanded. “She’s going to bust in there, and neither of us has a chance alone.”

She was right.

His weapon wasn’t ready. Not yet. Even if he were to deploy the prototype, chances of success were low at best.

A Sith, even this one, might prove invaluable.

But Sith were notorious betrayers. There was a trick here, an angle being played that he didn’t have the time to suss out.

Furthermore, the question remained: how had they been found? None of his men would do it. Which left her as a suspect, along with whoever their benefactor was or was connected to. 

She hadn’t wanted to take his men with her. But, then again, she didn’t need to return either. 

“There she is!”

It was one of the Jedi that gave the call, pointing with his green saber, the bootlicking royal guards and other Jedi rushing to join him. Komari cursed as she brandished her sabers. 

Yoshiro ground his teeth, indecision racking him.

Komari:

She bared her teeth at the approaching opponents, both blades lit and held defensively in front of her.

She could feel her heart hammering in her chest, her senses spread out. Dallon was still nearby and beginning to approach. She shone like a sun in the Force, burning bright amidst the filth of Nar Shaddaa.

She’d rushed here, almost in panic. But she really had no choice, not yet. If she tried to run right now, alone, chances were she’d just be chased down by the bitch that could fly

Regardless of how fast her legs were, she wasn’t quite so fast that she could escape someone who could ignore terrestrial obstacles, bust through walls too high to go over, and potentially sense her even if she hid.

So no, she couldn’t run. Not yet. Not without a distraction.

Luckily, forty or so Mandalorians would do quite nicely.

Now… if they’d just open the frakking door!

A shot rang out, and she deflected the bolt back towards the one that fired it, only for one of the Jedi to lunge forward. His green blade saved the man, shunting the shot aside into the wall where a steam pipe burst instead of her intended target’s head. 

The group inched forward, fanning out. The soldiers had their weapons trained on her, the Jedi at the front of the formation to intercept her. Komari’s eyes darted towards the Trandoshan boy, gauging whether or not she might be able to overwhelm him more easily than the other two. He was still a Padawan, after all.

If she could take him hostage… it might be her only chance. 

Then, with a hiss, a blast of cold air washed over her from behind. The thick blast doors were inching open! 

She didn’t waste any time, lunging for the door and squeezing through to reach the relative safety of the interior. 

There were some startled shouts from her pursuers, a handful of curses, but there was no time for them to react beyond a single shot that bounced off the heavy door before she was through to the other side, and the door slammed shut behind her.

She found herself facing a wall of gun barrels staring her down.

“I don’t think you can grasp just how tempted I am to give the order right now Sith.”

Her blades were still lit, and she didn’t dare raise her hands because she could feel the truth of those words. The old man really was tempted to gun her down. 

“Why let me in then?” she ventured to ask, if for no other reason than to stall for time. 

“Can’t shoot you when you’re outside the door,” the old man drawled. 

“We should kill her,” one of the Mandalorians cut in, hands tightening over his weapon. “None of us leaked our location. She’s the only one we can’t factor out.”

“Sith don’t work with Jedi,” she hissed back, feeling cold sweat trickle down her temple 

The old man chuckled, but she couldn’t tell what it meant.

Then, the door at her back shuddered.

She could feel the Force being extended, stretching out from the Jedi beyond to pry open the heavy locks, the metal groaning and straining as physicality struggled against Force mysticism.

It was almost reflex that made her turn, her hand stretching out, the Force answering her will as she began to combat their efforts, pushing against their weaker wills. 

The guns at her back charged, danger screaming in the force.

“I’m the only thing keeping this door from snapping open right now!” she barked at them, turning to glare at the array of Mandalorians before turning her gaze towards the old bastard standing at the catwalks above. 

“That so?” Yoshiro, damn him, seemed utterly unimpressed and uncaring, staring down at her as if she were a roach he was contemplating crushing under his boot. “Seems to me like you’re just buying time.”

“Seems to me like you’re wasting all of it,” she snapped back. “If you’re going to shoot just get it the hell over with.” 

He laughed again, the smoke of his cigarra floating around his head as he kept standing there, thinking. 

The bang that suddenly rang out from the metal door deafened them, like a cannon going off in their ears. The air in her chest shuddered. The building around them trembled, and the ground quaked.

Everyone went utterly still.

A second passed. Then another bang, and the metal door groaned. Like it was in physical pain.

When the third impact came, and she heard something snap inside the door, Komari realized what was happening.

Dallon.

Dallon was punching the door down.

“There’s no damn way,” she heard someone mumble behind her. “That door could survive an orbital bombardment. No way she could knock it down.”

“Be sure to tell her that after she walks through what’s left of it,” Yoshiro snarled, biting down on the cigarra. “Alright. Ignore the Sith. Get ready to fight.” The old man turned, beginning to hobble away, his bum leg making clear and distinct noise along the catwalk. 

She doubted he was running.

Another titanic blow against the door, and, this time, she could see the metal visibly warp and move. 

She inched back, away from the barrier, closer to the Mandalorian firing line as the men moved into designated positions, getting ready for a fight that, no doubt on some level, they’d been mentally bracing themselves for- for however long they’d been stuck here.

She doubted many of them felt ready.

Another strike, and the walls began to crack. She stepped further back.

Another blow, and light snaked its way through the central slit. She was far enough away now that she could safely say she was standing amongst the Mandalorians, not in front of them.

When the final blow came, to their credit, it wasn’t the doors that shattered-

It was the walls holding them up.

The two starship grade slabs of steel crashed onto the floor, duracrete and masonry falling with them in crumbled heaps. 

The hole made by the collapse was almost half again as large as the door itself. A dust cloud billowed out as sickly yellow light spilled in from the outside world. 

And there she was.

Obscured by the dust and light, Komari could only see her silhouette, the blue of her blade shining alongside the cyan blue of her cybernetic eye.

“OPEN FIRE!” someone shouted; she wasn’t sure on which side.

Blasters lit up the space between the two groups. Red, green and blue bolts of plasma fire darted across the expanse. The thick steel blast doors lurched upwards, held aloft by the Force to serve as impenetrable shields, and Komari could no longer see the other enemies, only Dallon standing there between the two slabs.

The Mandalorians shifted their fire, focusing on the only available target before the doors were launched forward like steel battering rams. 

Men scrambled out of the way, lunging, diving, activating jetpacks. Trying to escape any way they could before the crushing weight smashed into the walls, tearing through duracrete, steel and glass like cheap paper.

The Mandalorian Royal guards charged in, energy shields that covered them from neck to knee bloomed across their arms, blasters barking. 

The Jedi fanned out, charging into the disorganized fray, even the smuggler and Rattataki woman.

Komari saw it all, a fraction of a second turning the organized Mandalorian line into pure bedlam.

But her eyes were fixed on Dallon; who’s gaze similarly had never left Komari, not even for an instant. 

The only warning she got- was the woman’s two hands taking hold of her long saber hilt. 

The Force screamed at Komari, howling a warning as the so-called ‘Perfect Jedi’ lunged forward/ The distance between them very literally vanished in less than an eyeblink. 

Suddenly, the woman was there, already mid-swing, one foot cratering the ground where she stomped, putting her full weight into the blow. The wave of air pressure was almost a physical blow, itself, as it smashed into Komari ahead of the woman’s strike

The dark apprentice knew, beyond a shadow of any doubt, she had no chance to stop that swing.

She backpedaled, nearly losing her footing entirely in the hasty, panicked movement. The blue blade swung so close to her eyes that the flare all but blinded her, and the force of that titanic swing sent another wave of air that pulped stone to scatter like dust all around them.

Reflex and years of training made her body move on its own, lunging for the presented opening only to see the backswing already coming her way, threatening to bisect her.

She crossed both blades together, not daring to risk trying to do something as stupid as block with a single blade.

The impact was bone rattling. Every muscle in her arms felt as though it would tear, despite all of the Force reinforcement she could muster bolstering them. She was quite literally knocked off her feet, launched clear across the room.

She tumbled and spun through the air, disoriented and struggling to determine which way was up and which way was down, before she righted herself barely in time to land on stumbling, unsteady feet.

And she could tell she was in danger: no time to think, no time to assess, she swung her blades almost blindly, just barely seeing Dallon, already on top of her, reverse her forward momentum with an impossible ease that made both blades miss by mere millimeters.

Blasters fired and Komari saw Dallon move again, stepping this way and that way, minimal effort given, barely even looking as she all but danced between blaster shots.

She wasn’t even bothering to use her saber. 

A metal grate was torn from the wall, smashing into one Mandalorian. A grenade on the bandolier of another burst in his chest as the pin was telekenetically pulled.

Komari struck again, trying to seize an opening, a frenzy of harried, desperate strikes that Dallon didn’t even bother blocking, a mocking, vicious smirk on her face that she made certain the Sith apprentice could see very clearly.

It burned. Her rage was like an inferno, her fear even moreso, fueling the Dark Side that coursed through her body like a living conduit of power.

And it wasn’t enough. 

Dallon suddenly sped up, her speed literally impossible to track as the next thing Komari felt was the woman’s fist grab onto her chestplate, pushing her off balance, pushing her down as Komari lost her footing entirely before she was smashed into the ground. The flooring collapsed under her back as she felt the air once more explode out of her lungs.

Her vision swam, and she didn’t even get her bearings before Dallon threw her across the room like a cheap doll, her body crashing into the far wall, steel and duracrete stopping her with the sound of crumbling rock and groaning metal. Wires burst with electric discharge, lights flickered; it was all she could do to keep hold of her weapons.

She opened her eyes in time to see the impossibly fast Jedi slam into her, her full body and shoulder crashing into Komari’s diaphragm, sending her through the remains of the wall as blood flew from her lips. Something broke inside her chest as she fell in a boneless heap on the floor.

The edges of her vision darkened. Pain pulsed with every beat of her heart.

She could barely feel her weapons in her hands.

“That,” the Jedi spat, “was for what you did to Taylor.” Her voice was distant, barely managing to break through the foggy haze in Komari’s head as Dallon stepped through the hole the apprentice’s body had made. 

“Get up,” she demanded with a sneer. “That was high-school. Now I’m going for the degree.”

If Komari had the strength to smile, she would have. 

‘Revenge isn’t like the Jedi,’ she wanted to mock. If only she could breathe.

It seemed the perfect Jedi wasn’t quite so perfect.

Even so, she felt her ire rise. 

“You think…” She wheezed, forcing her limbs to work, for her body to move again. “You want revenge.” She hissed. “You’re the cause of this. It’s all your fault!”

Dallon stepped closer, that blue blade humming, and Komari had to wonder, again, what it was. What it could possibly be. That weakness. That one thing that had given her that cybernetic eye that even now glowed faintly blue in its socket. 

Then Dallon stopped, her head snapping to the left as she held out her hand, a rocket exploding mere milimeters from her outstretched palm.

Komari rolled using what little strength she had, to try and crawl away.

“Heh.” She heard Dallon behind her. “Fucking Tinkers-”

There was a crash, the sound of machinery whirring, and Komari knew what she’d find before she even deigned to look; hearing the howling of several Mandalorian Jetpacks touch down along side Yoshiro as the old man rumbled forward clad head to toe in the prototype they’d been designing for the better part of six months.

The prototype made to kill this: the ‘Perfect Jedi.’

The Mandalorian Veteran’s weapons powered on, the high pitched whine of its systems coming online.

He’d better make it count.

He only had a few minutes before that suit became a very expensive coffin.

“Only gonna ask you Death Watch chuckle-fucks once. Surrender. And I won’t have to repeat what I did to you on Corellia.”

“Nice offer.” She heard Yoshiro’s voice boom out of the suit’s helmet speakers.  “But I’d rather find out if all this work was worth the effort and just kill you.

Dallon huffed, reaching behind her before she pulled the Jedi robe off of herself, leaving only her armor as the Mandalorians leveled their weapons, rallying around their commander.

“Guess I’ll be decking out my whole Clone Legion in Beskar by the time I’m done with all of you”

(X)(X)(X)

I'm having fun

Are you guys having fun? Cause I'm having fun :D

Little factoid for all of you; Komari is actually fairly strong for this era. I'd say she's a better Sith assassin than even Ventress was (canonically) at this juncture. But Vicky is in an entirely different league that they're not even in the same zip code.


Also; another fun fact- in about an hour or two, I'm gonna make a Poll for the $3.00 and $5.00 tier members.

They get to decide what chapter drops next,

Kashyyyk with Queen Administrator

Or Nar-Shaddaa with Dallon, the fucking raid boss. xD

(I will also be posting some bits of news regarding artwork, the near future of this story and my original work so everyone should look out for that post if interested in those subjects.)

I'll catch you all in the next one :)

Comments

Laziel

I see you. I see you Ld1449, I see what you did. Been listening to a little Insane have we? Hell approves. I think Victoria will win in the end. The big question is what it's going to cost...