Things were rapidly spiraling out of his control; and that, Kal did not like.

He felt the old bitterness rise; the two Jedi he was with were keffing useless at the moment; even the slave was at least prepared to strike back. This is why his brothers had died? For this?

Pressure on his chest. It'd only take a twist to, literaly, remove Morad's voicebox. He glances down and then up at his captive with a blank stare, and Morad might realize that threatening the life of a clone really had no effect.

But his action has the desired effect. Kal'd never seen a saber up close, and the damned Jedi never seemed to settle on a standard appearance, but he could guess. Jedi. He drops Morad abbruptly. The man at the alleyway. Jedi. He swings his blasterrifle away from pointing at Lortan.

'Sweet Void. A whole war, we see... what? two Jedi? From a distance? We're in the middle of a purge and they come outta the woodworks! Way to go, Kal, that's three counts of threatening a superior so far.'

Which left the man holding the slave. Kal turns his side to Morad, his back to Lortan, to raise the Deece at -him-.

'Either Infantry is sloppier then we thought or these people have the prolifferation rate of scurriers.'

'Lock it up, we're in trouble, here. This is getting too noisy.'