Rest and Recovery... and Running

[Erik Vrell]

Erik was trying not to read the minds of his two friends but occasionally picked up feelings to distress from the two. He didn't ask them about it though, they would bring it up themselves if they wanted to. He looked towards the sky as axorn said it was getting dark. "That was fast." Erik mumbled. It felt like the sun has risen only a few hours ago, although it had been closer to ten or so hours. He wasn't keen to sleep in another abandoned warehouse but didn't have much choice. The group soon found an abandoned building that looked like it had been recently vacated. It didn't seem possible, but this place seemed worst than the last. The windows were boarded up and it smelt like death. Erik thought he heard rats scurrying around in the dark but couldn't see any. He volunteered to keep watch again, he couldn't sleep in a place like this if he tried. Despite this fact, he was incredibly drowsy as he hadn't slept since he had come to the omniverse. While he wasn't sure about their exact location, Erik could tell that they were going deeper into the city. There were no people wandering about and there was an eerie silence that made Erik's skin crawl. He spent the night with his hand on mageslayers hilt. He was relived when morning finally came and was unsure if they should continue heading the same direction but didn't voice his opinion. Surely he was just being paranoid. Right?

[Triest]

"Tortured? That's a strong word for only being here two days to observe. Every city has its slums, although these in particular among the worst I've seen. Roving caravans still had better living conditions than this."

Triest paused.

"Look, I understand that you were a king, and a benevolent king at that, and I'm not sure about Erik over here, but I'm no hero. I spent the better part of my days avoiding trouble rather than looking for it. All I see here is three conspirators with no support, and a lot of blood to be spilt if they wish to succeed. I'm sure there are others with the same ideals as you, and eventually you will find them, but this city isn't any of my business. What's a lone outsider to say about a city he doesn't know, and even caused trouble in? This all to me seems incredibly foolhardy, and a deathwish practically."

He sighs.

"I'll still help you guys out. I owe you two my life, but I'm not going to throw it away for you two either. Immortal as we may be, I don't want to be hunted for the rest of eternity or however long this government lasts because we decided to pull the trigger too early. Heck, I don't even want to pull the trigger at all."

[King Axorn]

"Alright," Axorn said. "nothing wrong with being a pacifist. Since I've failed to persuade you, I'd like to drop this conversation so that we can focus all of our energy on getting out of here."

Axorn sped up his pace and fell in line behind Erik, hoping that Triest would take his advice so that the three of them would be at their best in order to handle whatever lay ahead. I need to understand that not everyone has as strong of an alignment as I do. Axorn thought. I just need to leave it be at this point, and if the opportunity arises, I'll see if he'll be willing to join me then.

[Storyteller]

"So, let me get this straight. Three trained Prime soldiers broke into a heavily guarded museum in broad daylight, stole an artifact, and the three other Primes who tried to stop them ended up killing over a dozen of our men and succesfully escaped to a lower Tier..." the man said, looking out at the sunset vista of Coruscant from the window of his office at the Coruscant Police Department headquarters. His name was Alan Price. Captain Alan Price. One did not get to become a captain of the Empire's primary law enforcement agency without due cause. For years, very little had happened in the way of notable felonies, at least on the first Tier, where such things actually mattered. It was odd that he was being bothered with such things at all.

"Yes sir." the attending dispatch chief said, standing at attention. Alan Price grit his teeth and continued to look out the window.

"And I suppose Dredd is currently out of his office?" the Captain said, tension gradually building in his authoritative baritone.

"Yes. Judge Dredd is en route to address an situation already in progress."

Of course.

Captain Price turned around slowly and rested his hands on his wide desk, glowering at the dispatch chief.

"You said three of the Primes involved with the heist are still in Coruscant?"

"Well, they technically weren't-"

"I DON'T CARE. ARE THEY IN THE CITY?" Adam roared, slapping his desk lamp into the wall to his left. The dispatch chief glanced over at the mangled heap of glass and metal before returning his wide-eyed gaze to meet Captain Prices own burning visage.

"...yes."

"Good. Hunt them down. Kill them. No arrests, no interrogations. They killed our men, and we'll return the sentiment." Price said, gathering himself and returning to his full height. The dispatch chief relaxed in response and pulled out a Datapad, scrolling through available units.

"...I have eight available patrol teams. Would you like to look them over or-"

"No. Send Delta Squad."

The chief blinked slowly.

"...sir. Delta Squad is for covert ops and infiltration. They're commandos, not law officers. We can't simply-"

"I will handle any paperwork. Just get them mustered and out the door."

"Yes sir." the dispatch chief said, quickly exiting the Captain's office. Alan breathed a long sigh. It had been like this for a few weeks now. Palpatine was more lax about the lower Tiers, but Tier 1 was his pride and joy. It couldn't be seen being demolished at will by uppity Primes and their friends. He would have only one chance to fix this...it needed to be done right...

...

"Remind me again when we became a S.W.A.T. team?" Scorch uttered, tinkering with a few settings on his blaster rifle. Delta lead looked over at him slowly. It was impossible to know Three-Eight's expression for sure, but Scorch had been working with him long enough to it held that thin-lipped grimmace indicating he should have kept his yap shut. It never worked.

"We do what we're ordered. That should be good enough." Delta lead said, turning his attention to the rest of his squad. Seven and Six-Two were both reviewing the mission specs on their helmet's monitors; an action belied by the fact that they had their hands pressed against the side of their helmets. Blinking lights whizzed past the window slits of the LAAT the squad was riding in as it passed down through the flight corridors to Tier Seven, the targets' last known location. Three-Eight was not looking forward to engaging targets on this Tier; hardly anything was documented, and it was a practical industrial labyrinth. At least they would have the logistics advantage. Scorch, also known as Four-Zero, piped up again.

"I suppose it's just as well; Sev hasn't killed anyone all day!" the demolitions expert quipped. Seven turned his head slightly, the dried, red handprint on his helmet glinting in the low light.

"Hmph. Well. Guess that'll just make me even more eager than usual." he grunted in response.

"Not possible."

This illicited a snicker from Six-Two, but nothing else. Just then a crackle came in over their comms from the cockpit of the gunship. Twelve-Twenty chimed in with her feminine yet assertive twang. She was an Endless Dunes recruit, and had replaced Four-Two as their squad's pilot after the original one had been shot down by a goddamn magic spell. The squad had been leery about her joining, at first. Not so much because she was female, but more because Four-Two and the rest of Delta Squad had known each other since they were de-tanked. She had proven herself time and again, however, but she was still technically the new kid, so she tended to get ribbing nontheless...except during missions, when she lost any sense of humor.

"Delta Lead, approaching drop zone. Orders?"

Three-Eight examined the map of the area and hits that Coruscant security had gotten on the few cameras that were installed down here.

"Sending coordinates. Let us down and then stay on station; we may need the firepower."

"Roger that. Do you want to probe first?"

Three-Eight looked over at Fixer, who shrugged. May as well.

"Affirmative. But not for long."

"Roger that."

With this, the landing doors of the LAAT wrenched open with an immense clank, revealing the twisted metal hellscape outside. Carrion and defunct structures littered the streets, and a thick haze of industrial smog obscured any real ability to see farther than a mile. Tiny, orange pinpricks of light, either from fires or soot-crusted lamps, offered the only sullen illumination.

Six-Two wasted no time in activating the mini probe-droids which promptly buzzed away from the hovering gunship, down into the streets below. Their life detection sensors would likely be the only piece of their otherwise vast data collection arsenal that would be of use down here. All they could do now was wait.

[Erik Vrell]

Erik's paranoia hadn't abated after they left the warehouse. It was even worse now. He kept thinking he had heard footsteps behind him or felt like he was being watched. To be blunt, he was extremely on edge. He listened to the disagreement between his two companions and didn't blame Triest for not wanting to kill anymore people, although Erik didn't think that it was possible to avoid death when you had a goal like his or Axorn's.

The group was silent for a while and Eriknews paranoid beyond belief. He was listening intently to make sure they weren't being followed when he thought he heard something. He motioned for his two companions to stop and listened closely. Then the trio heard a small, whirring noise behind them. They turned to see a small drone flying aimlessly. Erik didn't know what the strange flying device was but he didn't think it was friendly. When it got close to them it froze and blared two words.

"LIFEFORMS DETECTED!"

Erik immediately realised that they were being followed and materialised a ring of violet energy. He quickly shot down the drone with his chakram. "Well, they know where we are know." Erik said. "But at least they can't track us for now."

[Triest]

Triest wasn't really aware of any probes until Erik had brought it to his attention. His focus was currently on the moral dilemma that he was faced with. The funniest part? None of it would have happened he didn't decide to be a hero, and now they were running like criminals. He'd guess those comic books were right with the whole police wanting vigilantes theme. However, he was scheming of something.

He had a feeling that Axorn might call upon him sooner or later, if nothing managed to split them up before they synced devices, but Triest still wanted to avoid as much bloodshed as possible. If a non-lethal variant of a weapon was created, then certainly the punishment for knocking someone out would be less than outright killing someone. Maybe a silent electric crossbow stunner? It'd be good for stealth, and making sure collateral damage was avoided.

Then the probe. Erik had already dispatched it, but it wasn't a really welcoming sight in any way.

"I wouldn't say they can't track us. They know we're here, and I bet you we have only a minute tops before they surround the area. Are we running or fighting?"

More bloodshed, although this fight might be unavoidable. However, killing even more soldiers might make them higher up on the list of people to kill. He also had a feeling this would not be easy. They had drones, and compared to the wreck that everything else was, the opposition was well equipped, and probably already informed of their abilities. In a situation like this, Triest would opt to hide and escape.

"I think you already know my stance."

[King Axorn]

"Triest," Axorn said. "I think you're right this time. We're outnumbered, outmatched, and out of time. I just hope we can get through this together." Axorn paused and thought for a moment. "If I remember correctly, when I got here, Omni said that death wouldn't be a problem. I just had an idea. If we're going to come back here with a rebellion. Why son't we let them kill us so that we can get these bounties off our heads. Then, when we have our rebellion they won't be on our tail the entire time. I'm willing to try it if we can't get away, what about you guys?"

[Storyteller]

The trio of Primes would not get much of a chance to consider their options before there came a distant roar. With the layout of Tier 7, it was difficult to tell just what, exactly, had caused the echoing thunder...or which direction it was coming from. All that could be discerned was that the aggressive noise was getting closer.

"Maybe we should-" Triest started, but was cut off as an immense gunship of some kind came barreling at them from out of the smog. Wisps of choking vapor twirled in its fierce wake as its repulsorlift engines churned the air. In the next instant, lances of bright green fire pounded into the ground around them. The LAAT slipped sideways in the air, keeping its nose pointed in their direction as it orbited the street they had lingered on.

By this time, the trio had wisely begun to seek cover, and dashed for the relative safety of a nearby multi-story warehouse. Though decrepit and foul, it was at least better than facing the alternative. Inside the cockpit, Twenty-Twelve's finger hovered over the arming button for the vehicle's heavier ordnance.

"Boss, we cleared for rockets?"

Three-Eight was quick to respond, as always. The Squad lead had a knack for making split second tactical decisions.

"Affirmative,but Wings, keep the building standing. We need to be able to confirm our kills."

"Aye sir." Wings said with more than a hint of glee in her voice. With the casual stroke of her thumb, Twenty-Twelve unleashed a quick volley of rockets at the structure, clouding it in a veil of fire and smoke. Inside, Axorn, Erik and Triest were thrown to the floor and scattered dolls at the force of the explosion. Axorn was quick to regain his senses, having been thrown hard against a duracrete pillar. He took in the scene of pain and debris quickly. Triest was meagerly pushing his way out from a pile of rubble, and Vrell was in the midst of doffing his beloved blue cloak, which was engulfed in flame. There was not an immediate follow-up to the attack, so the Primes had but a fleeting moment to organize a plan of action.

Meanwhile, out in the smog and ruin, the LAAT opened its doors again. Boss, Fixer and Scorch rappelled down to street level, quickly raising their blaster rifles and stalking towards the entrance of the building, which had been blasted wide open by the explosive initial assault. Their vector was covered by a haze of smoke, as well as the remains of an abandoned cargo hauler. The three commandos stacked up against the rusted, brown sheet metal of the decaying machine.

"Twenty-Twelve, I need you to drop our overwatch off. See anywhere you like, Sev?" Three-Eight asked, holding an armored hand up to his helmet's yellow ear-piece. The rough, guttural growl that was Seven's voice responded.

"Yeah Boss. There's a pumping station across the street of the north-east side. Should have solid enfilade on the second, third and fourth story main hallways, but the first and fifth stories are gonna have to be all you."

"Good to know. Wings, get Seven over there immediately and then stay on station at half a klick. Be ready to catch them if they try to leave."

"Aye sir."

With that, the LAAT tilted forwards slightly before lifting up and away to deliver the squad's sharpshooter to his desired campsite. Sev offered a distant salute as the gunship pulled away, which three-eight returned with an adroit gesture. With that taken care of, it was time to make a plan for ingress. Reports indicated that two of the Primes were packing some form of firearm, and one was a mentalist of some kind. They would have to try and ensure one-way fire scenarios...ideally by catching the Primes off guard. Three-Eight mulled over their options for but a moment.

"Alright, squad. There's a side entrance on the south wall of the building. That's our first objective. Fixer, take point."

"You got it Boss."

The team's logistics specialist quickly popped around the side of the cargo loader and peered into a window that had recently lost its transparisteel. There was some motion inside, but there was no clear line of sight if the squad moved to the right. Six-Two indicated this with a chopping gesture, which Three-Eight responded to with an elbow bump. On this cue, the ground squad shuffled out from behind their cover while crouching to keep their profiles as low as possible. Fixer kept his rifle trained on the window as Three-Eight and Four-Zero filed past before following suit himself.

Everything was going quite well, so far.

[King Axorn]

Axorn got up, coughing on the smoke and debris before ducking behind some crates in the corner of the room. I guess we're fighting after all. he mused. Axorn composed himself before peeking over the box and assessing the situation. His friends were trapped. One stuck under a pile of blown up rock, and the other trying to take off his burning cloak. Through the smoke Axorn spotted the small, precise movements of the three soldiers crawling across the ground; still a long ways off. I need to get Triest out of there quick. He's the most viable target out of the three of us right now. he thought worriedly. "Erik!" Axorn said quietly and abruptly before motioning to Triest. "Help me get him out." Erik nodded, pulled off his cloak and snuck over, his mind actively concentrating on the other minds around him, and began focusing his telekinesis, lifting a few large rocks off of Triest. Axorn slid over the boxes and raced over, picking up enough rubble so that Triest was finally able to dig himself out. "Find cover." Axorn said. Axorn turned away, dropping the stones, and dove behind the boxes just as Triest and Erik did the same in different areas of the first floor of the compound. All the while, Boss, Fixer and Scorch continued to crawl their way towards the group, and had now found cover behind some support pillars. Axorn attempted to peek over the boxes to measure their progress and was met with gunfire grazing past his head. Axorn quickly pulled his head back down. We need to seperate them somehow. Otherwise I don't think we'll be able to escape with our lives. he thought. Axorn pointed his sword behind him, towards the ceiling and fired, causing the crystal projectile to hit the roof, bounce off at an angle and land near the three soldiers with a clattering on the ground. I hope that worked. Axorn thought, risking another glance over the box. The special operations agents had been distracted for a fleeting moment allowing Axorn to get a clear picture of his environment. Triest was in a pile of crates on the right side of the room, and Erik was behind a support beam on his left. Just as the trio was turning back towards him, he pulled up his sword, aimed and fired, hoping his plan would work. The crystal gleamed as it wooshed through the air and implanted itself in the right one's shoulder armor. Perfect. he thought. This action was met by another exchange of fire from his comrades, forcing Axorn to duck back behind the crates before he was inflicted with a serious injury. Axorn leaned back against the crates, smirked knowing that he had hopefully put his plan into action and closed his eyes, concentrating on the mental image of the crystal bursting into flames.

[Triest]

Triest was about to object to the idea of essentially committing suicide by cop when lo and behold, the hammer of justice had fallen on top of their heads. Well, rocks of justice. Fortune favored Triest in that the rocks didn't peg him straight in the head, but that wasn't to say he was well-off.

After dragging himself off to cover, well concealment, boxes weren't exactly solid enough to stop a bullet, he took out his shotgun, flipped the safety off, and enabled his cloaking device. He wasn't exactly bleeding, although he was fairly certain pieces of his carapace were cracked.

Triest couldn't peg where the assailants were at. He was caught off-guard, and didn't exactly have the luxury of gawking about as the aftermath of the rubble fell around them.

Axorn was up to something, already engaging with something he couldn't quite identify, but whatever it was, it was outside the blast radius of a shotgun. With his injuries, a run-and-gun approach was a risky alternative to close the distance. Not much he could do there, but with the cloaking device, he could start paving a path on their rear flank as the other two contended with whatever was ahead.

There was a rear door, blocked off by the fallen debris predictably. Even with the cloak, he doubted that their pursuers would fail to see a bunch of materials moving on their own, and might act accordingly.

"Keep them off my back as I clear us a path!"

Triest slowly pushed himself off from the ground, wincing from the pain of the initial encounter, and shuffled his way to the doorway, whilst keeping an eye on where the incoming fire originated from.

[Erik Vrell]

Erik looked on as the crystal Axorn had fired erupts into flames. The scream of the hit soldier was agonising, as the shit hadn't killed him outright but had blown off his arm and part of his chest. He wouldn't live much longer. Triest explained his idea to his friends and engaged his cloak. "A distraction?" Erik said. "I can do that."

Purple mist flowed I front of Erik, quickly forming into a ring of energy. Erik blindly tossed the chakram into the smoke and listened. It bounced wildly around the room, flashing with violet light every time it hit a wall. It didn't do a whole lot of damage but Erik heard a couple of winces from the two standing soldiers. This gave Axorn enough time to fire off another shot. It hit one of the soldiers in the leg and ignited shortly after. This explosion wouldn't be as harmful as the other shot but still did some damaged and took the soldier off his feet.

The last soldier began to panic. He turned on his radio and began shouting rapidly. "This is bad. This is Boss, Scorch is down and Fixer is..." He was cut off by Erik using his telekinesis to hurl one of the boulders his lifted off Triest. Erik blinked away the last of the purple mist flowing from his eyes and saw that Triest had cleared away most of the rubble and the exit was almost clear. "Let's get out of hear quick." Erik said, picking up the burnt remnants of his beloved blue cloak and stashing inside his black tunic. "I don't want to test myself against another round of explosives."

As the trio made their escape into an alleyway Scorch turned on his radio. He was breathing heavily and sounded strained. "This is Scorch. There's no hope for us now. The others are dead and I'm bleeding out." He sounded faint. "Get those bastards." He said. "Get them for Boss, for Fixer. Get them for me." Then his radio cut out and unconsciousness enveloped him.

[Storyteller]

As the dust settled from the Primes' retaliatory assault and subsequent escape, Boss and Fixer both sat up and gathered themselves. Fixer's leg was badly wounded, but luckily his suit's shielding had at least kept the limb intact. As for his own health, well, it would take more than a flying rock to take Three-Eight out of fight. Reaching into his field kit, Boss jabbed a bacta hypo into his suit's medical tap line. The the blue miracle gel quickly drifted through his veins, soldering shut the fractured ribs and bruised organs that he had sustained from the heavy blow. With a short cough, he hauled himself back to his feet and rushed over to Fixer, applying a similar treatment to the logistics specialist.

"Can you move?" Boss said, his voice focused and betraying nothing of the intense emotions he was feeling right now.

"Agh...yeah, but...I don't think I can fight." Fixer responded, grabbing Boss's offered hand and staggering back onto his feet. His injured leg was in agony, but the bacta treatment was at least addressing the worst of the damage. There would be scars...well...more scars, but the limb would make it. Scorch on the other hand. As they did so, they heard Scorch's forlorn message buzzing in over the comms.

"Get it together Four-Zero, we're not dead yet." Boss said in a harsh tone. Perhaps too harsh for a dying man, but softness and sentimentality would not drag the commando back from the jaws of death. Boss handed Fixer what was left of the field dressing kit and pointed over to where Scorch lay, his arm missing and mutilated chest bleeding weakly from the few places that hadn't been cauterized.

"Get him stabilized." Boss said, picking his rifle up from the ground and checking it for damage. Fixer was slow to respond.

"Boss, I don't know-"

"Fixer. Do what you can."

"...Yes sir."

With that, the green clad commando rushed over to Scorch and pried off the demolitionist's yellow helmet, revealing the foggy eyes that laid within. Even though he shared the same face as the rest of the team (aside from Wings), the man's features were easily recognizable. Clones could tell. In the dark, dusty remains of the warehouse's front room, the only illumination came from the wan blue light cast from the visors of the two other commandos. Scorch looked so distant, so cold from inside the confines of the standard commando helmets...but now was not the time for sentimentality. There was a job to finish. Seven's growling voice booming in over the radio was enough to remind Three-Eight of this.

"Boss. Sit rep."

"Scorch is down, Fixer is hurt. Don't worry about it now. Are you in position?"

"Always."

"Good."

With that, Boss slapped a new energy pack into his assault blaster and charged after the three Primes making their way down the alley. He peeked out the door they had exited through, and scowled at their retreat. No. There would be no escape. With a voice that betrayed only a hint of the emotional torment that Three-Eight was suppressing, he called out to the three convict, while simultaneously arming one of his thermal detonators.

"Hey! Ugly!" he shouted out. All three of the Primes turned around with wide eyes, which widened even further as they saw the brightly gleaming red grenade soaring at them through the air. The alley was cast in a dull grey light from a single lamp overhead, and the primes were backlit by the clearing behind the east side of the building beyond. Boss watched as their silhouettes turned and ran from the ordnance, and a moment later, they were obscured by a plume of violent, fiery destruction.

As Erik, Axorn and Triest dashed out into the open, they barely caught a glimpse of the blue light emanating from Seven's visor on the water cistern a few hundred yards away. In the next instant, there was a hole in Erik Vrell's chest. The psionic Prime fell to the ground, one hand clutching at the through-and-through blaster wound with heavy, wet gasps. His bleary eyes looked up at Triest and Axorn in a questioning manner, searching for a solution or answer to the question which hung in the pregnant silence. Another moment passed, and a blue line of light traced a path through the injured Prime's skull, whereupon he immediately slumped over without another noise. Axorn and Triest had little time to contemplate the gravity of the situation when a relentless hail of blaster fire from Three-Eight's weapon forbade them shelter back within the narrow walls of the alleyway. They needed to move to somewhere, anywhere safe, but cover was scarce and options were limited.

From his perch upon the distant, rusting superstructure of the ancient water tower, Seven refocused the optics on his rifle and began to lead a path on his next target. Primes. They never understood. They would never comprehend. Each trooper killed, every 'toady of the Emperor' slain was a comrade. Father. Mother. Sister...Brother. Seven had just lost a brother, or would very likely soon be without Scorch. The flippant clone had always had a knack for telling pointless jokes, and Seven always had a knack for pointing out the idiocy of such pervasive levity. This was their dynamic, and they had done this exchange since they could form the words to do so. Seven was now bereft of this place in his heart, and the only thing that could rush to fill the void was hatred that he could not yet allow himself to feel to its fullest. There would be a time and a place for that, and it would be after the other two walking punchlines hit the pavement.

Erik Vrell has been killed and will reincarnate at the Fountain of Infinity in 3 OOC days

[Triest]

Shock. That was about all that was running through Triest's mind when Erik hit the pavement. It wasn't that he hadn't seen people die before, or even those he knew, but that didn't mean the feeling right after someone breathed their last was any less impactful, any less draining. He silently prayed that resurrection was in fact something that was real, and not some farce made up for reasons that Triest didn't bother try contemplating.

Triest being Triest, his immediate reaction was to sprint towards some cover, while Axorn, seemingly in a fit of rage, went after the sniper that had taken their friend. With the sniper being taken care of, and the remaining soldiers still in hot pursuit behind him, the only choice that seemed clear to him was to run. Just run. His thinking was cloudy, and all he could think to do was run as fast and as far as possible.

The aircraft went spiraling into a nearby building. Triest had doubts of whether that would distract the guards, or if Axorn survived his encounter, although he had a sinking feeling on what the outcome most likely was. Even if he did survive, Triest wasn't going back to find out. If Axorn sacrificed himself to save him, then he better use what distractions he could to get away.

On his great escape, Triest enabled his cloaking device, and kept running. He dodged his way through the alleyways, and cut his way through alleyways. He was certain that they would be waiting for him at the elevators, if not below then above, so he avoided them. Every sound, every shadow, gave illusions of pursuers, his paranoia of his coming fate playing tricks within the dark corridors of the cursed ruins. Doom was in the air, and Triest felt like he was running on an open field with a bird of prey slowly circling above, ready to make its mark. Two out of three down, what chance did the third have?

Finally his stamina gave way, and he ducked into a dark corner, trying to catch his breath. Only now would he know if he managed to gain a temporary reprieve from his pursuers, or if they tracked him all the way here.

[King Axorn]

Welp, time to fix that post.

"Erik!" Axorn yelled. His friend fell to the ground, holes in his head and chest, as a pool of blood formed beneath him. He's gone... Axorn thought, noticing the lifelessness in his friends eyes. and I couldn't do anything to save him. Axorn suddenly felt powerless, as though the world was collapsing in on him. How could this happen...? Why did I have to drag him into this? Then Axorn remembered Omni's words. I hope he's ok, I'm still not quite sure how this whole death thing works around here. A bullet whizzed by his head, snapping him nack to reality. Axorn felt a surge of power through him. I'm not going down without a fight... Axorn thought, clenching his sword tightly. I'm doing this... "FOR ERIK!" he yelled. Axorn flew up into the air, compensating for the still healing hole in his wing by leaning to one side, strafing back and forth as he headed towards the sniping soldier sitting on top of the team's transport ship. Axorn dodged as best he could, a few bullets grazing his his sides and back, causing him to grimace every time he was hit. Axorn finally landed on the ship, but had already received cuts and gashes all over his body from the enemy fire, causing him to leave a small trail of blood in his wake. Axorn folded up his wings as had dashed forward towards Seven, attempting to strafe but getting a hard hit straight to the chest. causing him to start bleeding out all over the wing of the spacecraft and caused his vision to blur. Axorn attempted to crawl forwards towards the sniper but was shot again straight in the head. I was too reckless, I'm sorry... I may have bough Triest some time... but I couldn't avenge Erik... Axorn's vision began to blur, and he succumbed to the darkness as his ichor, his green viscous lifeforce, flowed out of him....

Axorn has perished and will reincarnate at the Fountain of Infinity in three OOC days

[Storyteller]

Sev pulled up the sniping blaster as the muzzle steamed softly. There came a sharp hiss as the magazine was ejected, and a subsequent, sharp clack as a fresh one was inserted. Boss's dour voice crackled in over the comm lines.

"Good work Seven. Do you have a visual on the third one?"

The squad's sniper slapped his visor scope down and peered along the smog ridden streets. Even with the powerful floodlight from the LAAT which had serendipitously arrived was having a hard time locating the arachnoid Prime. Sev issued a low, hateful growl. He hated losing track of prey.

"Negative sir. He slipped out of sight."

"That's fine. I've just been updating Dispatch and they want us to pull out."

"But Boss-"

"It's more important that Scorch gets into a bacta tank as soon as possible than run down an injured Prime freak. We're moving out. Wings, bring the LAAT around to the front of the warehouse with Sev for an extraction.

The squad's pilot confirmed the order in a somber tone.

"Aye sir."

Three-Eight hated the idea of letting the third convict escape, but the spider-eyed freak didn't exactly blend in, and he was stranded on Tier Seven with serious wounds. If and when he turned up again, the normal troopers could deal with him. For now it was better to make sure Six-Two lived to fight another day. After all, at this point, the message was pretty clear; do NOT mess with Coruscant.

Ten minutes later the LAAT was pulling up into the sky, its repulsor engines churning the dull grey smog violently as it faded from view. Triest watched the departure from the window of a dilapidated shed he had managed to find. It was over, for now...