Alt NPC is mentioned but not present. Droids not present.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/14r2-OSbLLs7QgL0kMm9DuyR5_vVizpMc/view?usp=sharing

Disclaimer: This piece of fiction contains mild violence in both language and action and may not be suited for all readers, please keep this in mind and read it at your own risk.

High Value Targets
Lieutenant Colonel Malodin'Tater (Loyalist) / AED / House Empire's Chosen of Clan Scholae Palatinae
Pin #3160

Sitting alone in a back corner booth, with eyes constantly watching, a man sat shrouded in darkness. To most of the patrons in the bar, the man was not someone that most would notice. He had practiced for years to be invisible even in the brightness of pure daylight and now he needed this skill more than ever. After recent events, he really couldn’t go to his normal haunts and hangouts.
Ric Hunter, former Sith Battlelord and current fugitive from Imperial justice, was waiting for his contact. The woman he was meeting, a former fellow Imperial Intelligence officer, was supposed to meet him shortly with a new identification, one that he could use to disappear into the unknown regions. As he waited, his head began to throb and his concentration slipped a bit. The slip wasn’t much but it was enough for people to begin to notice him. He rose to his feet and made his way to the exit knowing that even as small of a slip that it was he had been tagged.
Ric entered the small hanger he had rented and keyed the airlock to his ship. The small unregistered shuttle had been a gift from the Supreme Director of Imperial Intelligence for his years of service as the SDIRs escort squadron commander. The best part about it was that the ship was completely untraceable and had been loaded with the best stealth equipment available. He never knew that he would need it, even for a small getaway or vacation. Now he was glad that he had kept it off the books and hidden from nearly everyone.
Ric activated the defense system to the shuttle and started his pre-flight checks. He flipped the switch to warm up the engines and felt a familiar presence in his mind. Ric hung his head and let out a sigh as the door to the cockpit slid open, and an armored figure entered with his weapon drawn.
“So what now, my friend?” Ric said with a defeated tone to his voice. They had sent the only man that they knew Ric wouldn’t automatically kill on sight. “Disintegration?”
“Not hardly,” the man replied, his voice distorted by the Armored helmet that he wore. “I have a chance for redemption for you, slim but you have beaten worse odds before.” The man reached up and activated the releases on his sealed helmet. With a slight tilt of his head, he slid it off to reveal his dark blue hair.
“The Empress sent me to find you. She knows that you were not in your right mind and has asked me to give you this,” Malodin’Tater smiled at his friend. He had known Ric for almost thirty years and had never suspected that he was a plant for the Insidious. To be brutally honest, Ric had never suspected it either.
“What do I have to do?”
“What you do best, it’s time to go to war,” Malodin’Tater smiled with a twinkle in his red eyes.

Nesolat Station -

Ric sat cross legged on the floor nearby the starboard side airlock. He had tried to meditate knowing that this battle would be very brutal. He cleared his mind and focussed on his objective, which was to push the Collective out of the station at any cost.
Malodin sat nearby, checking all of his weapons and watching Ric. Once the control chip had been found in Rics brain, they had tried to remove it but had not been able to. After some of the clones had been able to remove theirs at the end of the Clone War, the chips had been changed to be more integrated.
“Mal, do me a favor. If I fall, find my machine and see if you can stop it from implanting a control chip in my next body, provided there is a next body that is.”
“I’ll do what I can. It would be helpful if I knew where it was,” Ric had placed his cloning machine on a small ship that randomly jumped around to avoid being found. It was as secure a system to keep others from tampering with it as there could be but it did create problems of their own.
“That’s all that I ask my friend,” Ric grasped the lightsaber that Kell Dante had given him. He could feel that the enemy was fast approaching and wouldn’t be long in coming. The proximity alarms began to go off as the Collective ships began to attach themselves to the station. Ric got to his feet just as the first ship breached the airlock. With a snaphiss, he ignited his lightsaber and dropped into a fighting stance.
Ric didn’t have long to wait. Smoke filled the passageway as the nearest ship breached. Ric shifted his stance as four shapes emerged from the dense haze. He only took a quick moment to size up his opponents. Ric noticed that ech one was almost exactly the same as the others, it was like they had been made in a lab, sort of as he had technically had been
The foursome came towards him as a fast pace and began firing. Ric let himself fal into the force and directed the blaster fire away from him. Some bolts returned to the nearest enemy but if it did any damage, Ric wasn’t aware of it. The pale thing just absorbed the fire and kept coming.
Ric advanced to try and get within striking distance of the enemy. As he advanced the enemy increased their rate of fire and forced Ric to drop back. As he fell back, he used the Force to drop the blast door down to block the passage. He reached for his com to let Malodin and the rest know about these new fighters that the Collective had deployed.
Ric pushed the button on his comlink as he raised it to speak, the blast door flew upwards. Two of the enemy were lifting the great door while the other two advanced through it firing at Ric. He activated his saber and deflected the bolts that came towards him, or at least most of them. Ric twisted to his left as a bolt slammed into his chest plate. He rolled with the momentum of the impact and came back to his feet a few meters away. As he rose, he was hit twice more with one burning into his arm.
The impact tore the lightsaber from Rics hand and sent it across the compartment. He reached out for it but before he could summon it back to his hand, he was hit again and went down to his knee. He raised his eyes and watched as the four enemy soldiers once more advanced on him. With each hit, he could feel anger rising in him, an anger that fueled him. He rose to his feet and summoned a great burst of Force Lightning. Ric had very seldomly used this power as even with the years of training, he knew that he would not be able to hold the state he needed to be in. Plus he would also burn.
The lightning hit the first trooper squarely in the chest and with a shower of sparks, it dropped to the ground. As it did, the others closed around it and formed a circle. From what Ric could see, they were trying to repair their fallen comrade. Ric drew on every last bit of anger that he possessed and flung another round of lightning at the small group The electric current hit the first one and traveled along the connected wires to the rest. Ric had not realized that they had connected to the fallen one much as a droid would. With the connection, they were vulnerable. He knew that he had to get this information back to the Empress. It might be something that they could use.
As the lightning left his fingers, Ric could feel his strength beginning to fail. As the drones fell in a heap, Ric felt darkness coming for him as he fell to the ground. The very last thing that he saw before he faded into blackness was Malodin rushing into the corridor followed by a platoon of Scholae soldiers.

Word count: 1708

"Blackwind's messaged us." Leena snarled, crouching down behind her droid for a moment, fingers flying across the device in her hands. "Ciara's asking for aid."

The light spilling from his sabers was all the answer that was given.

"This is what I was born for!" Doc laughed, sliding his shoulders sideways as he retrieved his riot shield. Planting his feet, he tucked himself behind it, overlapping it some with the durable armor of Leena's Blastromech. She looked up at him, trading her datapad for a blaster.

"I'll echo that sentiment." Chromed fingers closed around a repeating blaster as Hekate stepped to Doc's side, completing a formation they had performed more times than any of them would have liked to admit. None of them had ever dreamt that they would have to use it on the Nesolat. Doc chuckled at the droid, finger caressing the trigger of his pistol as he waited for the enemy to come around the corner.

Muz stood apart from them, slightly ahead, sabers held casually in his hands. His warcoat moved unnaturally at the waistline, the snap of holsters opening almost lost in the din. The footsteps grew closer yet, Muz turning sideways and lowering his center of gravity as the gilded hilts swam out from under his coat. They drifted lazily away from him, carried on currents of thought to lay in wait at about chest level along the corridor walls ahead of them.

Their armor was black and red, the old imperial era armor seeming somehow familiar to him. He blinked, and his will was received. Amber fire ripped from the sabers, finding the soft fabric seal between helmet and gorget and drinking deep. The helm fell to the ground, the body taking another step before falling forward, the movement shuffling the soldier's head from its armored shell. He was ugly. Pale and bald, the soldier's face seemed like it was somehow artificial, but not. Muz's lip curled as he saw it, the deep lizard part of his brain screaming that something was wrong, sick.

And he was only the first. The second one dodged the blade as it tried, but from the other side, the trap having less efficiency with additional iterations. A blow glanced off, deflected obliquely off of a vambrace, leaving a line of smoky char on the otherwise glossy armor. Muz's eyes narrowed as he saw that, mind formulating the next steps. Two more turned the corner, dodging the sweeping blades as easily as children skipping rope, the dull throbs of blaster fire echoing down the hall at them.

Muz took a step forward, a blaster bolt searing past him by mere inches as he called his blades back to him, his wrists twitching fine arcs of light as if to challenge them to come closer. The three of them spread themselves backwards, filling the hallway with light that he simply batted away as if it was sport. He sent the occasional burst back at them, the impacts doing little more than charring their armor. One of them let the carbine droop, raising his other hand, the miniature missile leveled at the Keibatsu.

The Force whispered in his ear, singing stories or woe and suffering, of love and loss, and of those things which had yet to pass. Muz listened to them all, let them flow through him and fill his mind with what he knew all along.

He just loved the melody.

Muz let two fingers raise from his saber, ensnaring a blaster bolt in the grip of his mind, It crackled in the air menacingly, bits of red static reflecting off of their black helmets, twitching in abject rage at being imprisoned. The missile left the troopers wrist launcher, screaming toward the man. As soon as the ordinance passed the frozen bolt, Muz released it, turning somewhat to shield himself from what he knew was the next verse of the song.

The bolt screamed into the missile, igniting the explosive, shrapnel tearing one of the troopers helmet and cuirass apart, sending him to the ground with a dull thump. They shook off the daze, watching the Lord straighten up, releasing his saber as he stretched his fingers, the corpse pulled up to hover before him as he stepped forward, the blasts from their weapons shaking the body and armor of their fallen comrade as he grew closer. A flick of the wrist, and the corpse crashed into them, pinning one to the wall for a moment before golden light sheared into the soft undersuit at his armpit, drawing a line of ruin through his lung and heart. The helmet garbled his last words, if that was what they were.

The survivor rolled out from under the weight of the dead, quick movements bringing him to a crouch, his carbine brought to bear in mere heartbeats. He had performed the maneuver countless times over his career, the muscle memory making the movement as natural as breathing, as smooth as antique Alderaanian silks, and faster than most could even blink. His own finger caressed the trigger, bringing the soft recoil down his senses. He watched the bolt scream forward as he recognized something very important.

It was too slow.

The blade came from behind him, burrowing its way through his side, the gap between plates filled entirely by cauterizing pain, as the Lion of Tarthos cut his heart. He reached to his belt, the detonator primed for this sort of final irony. Fingers never reached their goal, the hand sent twitching to the floor by a flash of crimson, the movement smoothly arcing toward his neck as the Lord ended his suffering, then turned away from their corpses.

"Hey, what do you think, maybe leave some for the rest of us next time?" Doc chuckled as they broke their protective formation, moving up to join him. Muz kept moving, his stride unimpeded by the dead, the ruined bits of wall panels or flooring warped from the battle. Leena glared at Doc as if that would ever quiet his mouth. They moved together for a few more moments in silence, before Doc cleared his throat with a half laugh, breaking the tension. "Hey, what do you think?"

"I think..." Muz kept moving, eyes facing forward, toward the sound of more mayhem. "Lyspair at least had a spa."

Note: This continues from where my entry for In Opposition ended.

All that could be seen around him was red, the occasional white flash. All that could be heard was a blaring alarm.

With his BR-5010 raised and a knife held close to his chest, he stepped in puddles of blood created by allies and enemies. Against his better judgment, he gazed upon the corpses of his allies. The wrinkles created by his dour expression softened and his brows raised, seeing the bodies of individuals he could note was much younger than he. Though a lump developed in his throat, he trekked forward.

Suddenly, his ears perked. The sounds of his steps did not much the speed in which he walked. They seemed… Accelerated. Heavy. Just as quickly as Zodac noticed, he turned the corner and pressed his back against the wall, head just beside the corner.

The heavy steps continued. With every moment that passed, they became louder, nearly echoing the halls. The human gripped the slugthrower just a bit tighter, finger planted firmly on the trigger. When he peered around the corner, he cursed beneath his breath.

Bloody footprints turned the corner and only ended just below him.

Zodac slowly stepped back and pointed his slugthrower at the hall, ready turn whatever turned that corner into a bloody mess. The heavy steps that were tailing Zodac grew louder and he waited with his finger already beginning to squeeze the trigger. As a figure turned and looked down the barrel of the slugthrower, it was instantly met with a bullet. The shot thundered off the walls and the helmet the marine wore was shattered where the slug entered and exited. Its shoulders fell back and the rifle it was holding dropped to the ground.

It fell rather ungracefully and hit the ground with a loud thud.

Despite the now dead marine, he still heard the ominous footsteps he thought belonged to the poor soul… or whatever it was, who now lay on the ground. Zodac cursed under his breath and peeked the corner, to see three more marines walking straight at him. Before he could even blink an unholy amount of bolts were fired, and he fell back behind safety. Grabbing the riot shield off his back and holding it before him, he walked backward to find a more defendable position. A marine turned the corner and laid siege to the old man’s shield, each bolt leaving a crack. Zodac yelled and responded with a flurry of his own, all hitting center mass, the entrance of the slugs leaving holes in the armor.

With any well-placed shot, he knew the shield would shatter. He couldn’t reload, he needed his off-hand to do so. In other words, he was screwed with no way to defend himself. Zodac saw something roll just behind him- It was small and black with a blinking red light. He ended his retreat and sighed, looking back at the thermal detonator then the unrelenting marines. As the beeps quickened, he closed his eyes. Then, detonation.

To his surprise, he hadn’t been turned into a puddle of gore. Towering over him was Cato, who had picked up the grenade and returned it to the marines. It exploded mid-air, the force powerful enough to knock the foes back. The droid grabbed Zodac by his arm, nearly dragging him through a doorway and into a dark room.

“Are you hurt?” The droid asked as the door shut, leaving the two in the darkened room. All that Zodac was able to make out were the glowing eyes of his ally. His large frame bent to observe the human, and with no glaring issues, he observed his surroundings.

Unable to recognize anything around him, Zodac removed the lightsaber from his harness and activated it, raising it into the air. Endless boxes, stacked to the roof, and shelves with more supplies than one could count. He immediately knew that there was only one way in. He sighed and looked at the door, pointing at it with his thumb. “Maybe they didn’t see us come in?”

Suddenly, a murmur from outside the door. Zodac knew that hiding in this room wasn’t an option. They had the upper hand, with their cybernetics and fancy weaponry. They would either have to fight here with a chance to make it out alive or die hiding like cowards. Without so much of a second thought, Zodac stabbed through the door and pulled back. The floor before him shook just a little.

The man laughed and pressed his ear against the door, trying to hear what else was happening. The steps of retreat made him all the happier, but his face of content turned to that of shock as a familiar beep echoed. Zodac turned tail and dove over some crates at the door erupted into hot metal shards, soon followed by blaster bolts- many of which penetrated the crates and nearly struck him. The marines slowly made their way in, blaster rifles at the ready to shoot anything that dare moved. As much of a crack shot Zodac was, he knew it was a death sentence to challenge the almost perfect soldiers. He waited for his turn to strike, not with his firearms… He was going to have to get down and dirty.

As a marine checked for what he thought was a casualty, he was met by the glancing blade of a lightsaber that had suddenly ignited. The soldier dodged the first and was grazed by the second swing- but quickly took advantage of an opening. The marine hit him with a left hook, staggering Zodac. With the opportunity granted, the marine took out a vibrodagger and swiped, striking the aged man across the belly, leaving a decently sized slash and quite a bit of spilled blood.

He yelled in pain and swung his lightsaber single-handedly down at the soldier, who blocked it by pinning his forearm against the crease in the man’s elbow. Similarly, the soldier tried stab Zodac in the gut, but was narrowly stopped by a hand that leveraged itself against the marine’s bicep. Now at a standstill, it was a battle of might. The pain in Zodac’s stomach grew as more blood spilled, and he felt the vibrodagger itching closer to his abdomen to put him down for good.

Among the fighting between the two, Cato was handling the second marine. He pushed the soldier, sprinting with both hands extended outward. He shot at the droid, the bolts penetrating Cato’s plates but not stopping him. He grabbed him and lifted him far above his head, throwing the poor thing so hard at the ground there was an audible crack. Had it been any normal being, they certainly would’ve been knocked out or dead. Cato lifted his leg high into the air to stop the soldier, the marine dodged by the skin of his teeth. He rolled and unsheathed his vibrodagger, swiping at the droid’s leg.

A miss.

Cato pulled his leg back up just in the nick of time, and stopped down on the arm. This time, a much louder crack, and the knife dropped. Without time to waste, Cato picked up the marine by his neck and held him with a tight, barely breathable grip. He lifted the soldier above him and squeezed as hard as his lanky, metal fingers allowed. Apparently, it was quite hard as the struggle ended and the marine hung limply. Cato threw the body to the side and saw the struggle between his friend and the final soldier, and rushed to help.

Zodac felt the dagger slowly enter his abdomen, and he tried to yell in pain and was unable to. He wasn’t strong enough to prevent it from happening. It slowly cut deeper, and Zodac became weaker. The droid grabbed the arm that held the vibrodagger was in and pulled back, it sliding out of Zodac’s abdomen. Cato placed his hand over the marine’s hand and pulled it into the his chest slowly, as he had did to his friend. Zodac fell onto his back, weakened by the loss of blood, barely conscious. The soldier whimpered in pain and the blade stabbed deep into their chest, and they fell to their knees. They looked down at the handle and grabbed it, but suddenly stopped moving.

Cato stepped over the body and went to Zodac, picking him and the lightsaber up swiftly. “Stay with me, now. We’re gonna get you better, alright? You’re going to be okay.” Zodac felt the cold embrace of his friend and shivered. His head felt heavy and wanted to rest, the same went for his eyelids and limbs. That’s all the human wanted, just to rest for a few moments to regain his strength. The alarms that had filled the air in the corridors had seemingly silenced, replaced by a ringing in his ears. He saw Cato looked down at him more than a few times, but couldn’t hear. He fought to keep his eyes open, fought to keep his head upright. Suddenly, a final cold chill shook him.

He finally received the rest he wanted, and it all went black.