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Selpho the Toydarian had been a rather indirect mentor of Evien's, through their dealings and conversations, Evien learned of the ins and outs of the criminal underworld. Often, Evien and Selpho found themselves in the same situation - on the same side, no less.

But this time was different... Evien supposed everything was different now.

"If what you say is true, then Thelak will be at my doorstep in a matter of hours," He said, "He will want guns and men to hold them," Selpho sighed, "This time, Evee, I cannot be your friend... the credits outweigh my heart. And you know that I have other important people to take care of..."
Evien leaned forward, thinking a moment.

"If you were a jedi with planets, armies," His eyes locked with Selpho's, "Gods hunting you... where would you go?"
Selpho smiled wolfishly, "Somewhere dangerous."
"Dangerous?"
"If the Force works as they say, I would fall into the most rampant jungles of the most rampant moon.. and conquer it."
Evien coughed a laugh, "For a criminal, you have wistful aspirations."
"Believe it or not, Evee, I was a child once."
As they laughed, Evien poured himself another drink. He would speak with Selpho at a length, ask him questions he'd held back in stressful times, tell him of jobs gone awry...

Because he didn't think he'd ever see Selpho again.

Kal's dark eyes dont leave the dealer, ready to evicerate him in the instant Morad's tricks failed.

"Bacta." He says shortly, his eyes flicking towards the distant limits of the city, "And the smuggler's route into the woods." He knew there was one; there always was. How else could this man get the supplies for his speeders?

He knew Morad was dead-set on -getting- one of these speeders, and he knew just as certainly that he had to keep the Jedi from killing himself in such a way. With the city in lockdown, with the constant patrols and scans, getting out by speeder was out of the question. They'd never make it past the first checkpoint, and there would be checkpoints.

'Feh. Generals. They never like to march on the ground in the muck with the rest of their army, do they? Ten credits says he tosses his cookies in the sewers.'

'Dont you start, Boomer. Kal is the bitter one, the last thing we need is two Kals.'

'Fierfek, the galaxy would implode...'

The clone sighs to himself.

Morad holds tight with his jedi mind trick, making certain nothing arises to dismay his efforts. So the dealer backs into the shadows, emerging with a nice tank of bacta, and a crude map. It was not holographic, mere paper and ink, but it looked to be sufficient enough to lead them the right way.

He hands the bacta to kal, and takes a look at the map with both joy, and a bit of drepession.

"Man.......this makes Kashyyk look like a vacation resort."

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You read it, you can't unread it.

Kal leans over to glance at the paper once before snorting, "Kashyyk -was- a vacation." the commando opinions.

He kept forgetting - or chose to forget - that Morad was no Commander. Kashyyk might've seemed a nightmare to an uninitiated youngster; whereas to the war-weary Talons, having a planet that was thick in cover and even had the occasional friendly locals was a blessing.

Having logged the scribbles of the map into his memory, he nods warrily to the dealer and moves into the shadows of the alley towards the steps descending into the first of many underground streets, motioning for Morad to follow him quickly before the Dealer realized he'd been duped.

When they are relatively clear, the clone grunts and motions for them to stop for a moment. He selects an abandoned crate and sits heavily on it.

"Hold this." He hands Morad a glowstick so Kal can see what he's doing.

Beneath the dim blue light, Kal's hair is soaked in sweat, the front of his dark shirt in blood. The stuff trickles in a black rivulet down his arm from his shoulder, dripping from his fingertips in a chilling rythm. Even his rifle is drenched in the stuff, soaking it up from the torn fabric at his side. Kal has, since the end of the fight, been operating with wounds that would have dropped a normal man an hour ago. Every grunt, every hiss, every curse under his breath has not been made out of anger or impatience towards Morad, but out of pain and fatigue.

Well, what did you expect? He'd been holding off a platoon of Troopers while the Jedi had been playing around with their Sith counterpart. The building collapse had hardly helped.

He sets the bacta canister on his knee and extends the injection tube, bringing it to his teeth. He rips out the filter assembly and attatches the needle directly to the line before jamming it into his vein and letting the blue wonder-drug drain. It might seem like suicide; pure, unfiltered bacta injections were poison to human lifeforms.

Morad takes the glowstick, holding it over in wonder as the commando treats himself. You would reckon he'd had much expirience, maybe even a medic, but Morad decided that it must be normal for commandos. Finally, his awe stricken look is broken when he sees Kal rip off the filter.

"Hey wait, what are you-"

But it was indeed too late. Before Morad could make any motion, Kal had injected himself with pure bacta. It was suicide, so Morad waited a bit for the commando to die, but it appeared that death was sidetracked at the moment.

"What the hell, you should be dead!"

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You read it, you can't unread it.

Cyphor moved down the street after the fleeing Twilek, head up and his step casual. Being a Bothan his more distinguishable characteristics were a lot harder to spot than humans, so he just acted like he belonged on the street and no one really noticed him. he saw the twilek turn and look at him before stopping - presumably to wait for him to catch up. A small group of troopers came around the corner ahead of him at a rapid pace and Cyphor turned into a nearby store, the regular populace might not take any notice of him but he didn't know how much the clones knew of the 'incident' they seemed to be heading towards, Cyphor didn't want to take any chances.

By the time Cyphor stepped out of the store, a small pastry in hand - which despite only having bought it to keep his cover tasted quite good - the Twilek was nowhere in sight. Cyphor thought about using the force to try and find her, it wouldn't be easy for sure and would possibly draw attention to him, maybe even from the sith that to his knowledge was still in the area, no if he was going to find the girl he would have to do so by regular means, and for the moment he didn't have the time to spare for a search of the area, he would just have to leave the Twilek to her fate.

Getting out of the city and to the refugee settlement would be tricky now that the city was in lockdown, tricky but not impossible. One of the things Cyphor had done while escaping the jedi temple had been to transfer a large supply of credits from the temple coffers to an un-named account he held, while he had been trained a jedi - he was still a bothan, intrigue was in his blood and credits always helped that along. Some bribes to the right places and a few quick stops to pick up provisions the refugees would be in need of and Cyphor found himself strolling out the last checkpoint of one of the city's lesser used exits and on his way to the refugee settlement, a small handcart in front of him loaded with food and medical supplies.

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UNsane: Its more than a condition, Its my state of being.

Cynner Striker Lacuna

Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the former. - Albert Einstein.

"What the hell, you should be dead!"

'A credit for everytime someone's told him that....'

"Oh, stuff it."

Kal blinks and shakes his head, "Not you." He adds to Morad, who may well have thought the nasty remark was directed at him. Though given there was no one else the clone should be talking to, that might not come as a comfort.

"The Kaminoans gave Commandos a way to process pure bacta. We didnt need to find human-specific strains durring combat; any form of bacta would do." He explains breifly. "It's one of the ways we're superior to Troopers." Kal cant help but sound a little smug, there. What, a man couldnt have a bit of pride in his genes?

He pulls the needle out once the bacta has drained and flexes his fist. The blood has stopped trickling from his wounds, and he seems to be breathing easier, standing straighter.

"Much better." Though he frowns down at his DC-17, now annoyed with the blood-soaked and filthy state of the weapon. But it would have to wait.

He tosses the canister asside and starts moving again, gesturing Morad foreward. This was going to be a long walk.

"This should take us into the refugee sectors, right?"

Morad stands amazed at what the kaminoins could do. Make a human's body able to digest the pure form of bacta. For a moment he thought it inconceivable, but followed Kal, looking down at the map for assurence of their coordinates. He held the light hight, as to see both the path and the map.

"Yeah, it should be in this direction. Take the next right."

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You read it, you can't unread it.

Razre sighed with relief, the smuggler missing his brief saber flash. he got up and left quickly. assuming what the Bothan had said was true, he'd need to get out of the sector he was in. Fast. he quickly ducked into an alley and bumped into a sour looking 'merchant'. he noted the tricked out speeders tucked in a corner and asked,"i see you deal in illegal vehichles, do you deal in illegal info too?" the dealer grumbled," i just got scammed by two other dives outta some bacta and a map. what do you want?" razre's sharp mind flew and he realized the only person in need of direct bacta would be a clone commando, and the only injured one he knew of was kal. the clone intrigued him, so he decided to find him. "easy friend, dont you remember me?" he said, his hand moving undetected from under his cloak. "ah yes, sorry mate, what can i do for you?" the merchant said, his mind once again experiencing the grip of a jedi mind trick." i need some info, and a safe path to the refugee camps." "alright, i got a better route for yeh then the one i gave to those other two nerf-herders. the one theyre usin' takes em past the ol' rancor in the sewers, theyll never make it! why, the only people who could beat that thing would be a well trained clone commando or..or.. a JEDI! bah!" the dealer laughed. Razre accepted the hand written map and left the oblivious merchant in the alleyway, following a trail in the force that he sensed emanated from Morad, that strange boy with the intense aura. he had great potential...

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Quote: Im a GAMER. I have a PLETHORA of lives!

WHAT DO YOU MEAN,"THERE WERENT ANY MINIGUNS IN THE DARK AGES?!"

Kal stays two paces ahead of Morad's glowstick; a tall dark shape against the shadows. With no helmet, he didnt want his night vision ruined by the glare.

He also didnt want to see any of the rough edges of the hand-carved and weather-worn tunnels. Every bootstep echoes down in front of him, every drip of water carries from the darkness. Kal could already feel his chest tightening, almost imagine the weight of his katarn armor and his pack. Unconciously, his Deece settles into his hands and he stoops slightly into the sideways movements of a commando on a mission. His mind told him this was Corellia, but every fiber of his senses told him this was Geonosis...

The shuffling of scurriers becomes the distant chittering of insectoid warriors, the traffic above becomes the sounds of a droid factory. It isnt a jedi boy shuffling behind him; it's the bootsteps of his brothers.

'Advisor, request status update of 38's team.' Twitch makes the same calls he did years ago, but it all seemed perfectly normal. 'Advisor, come in.'

"It's the rock." says the Commando to voices Morad cant hear.

'They're probably right on schedual, Delta always is, the showoffs.'

The bacta is doing its work, the commando is able to function, but the wounds are still there, and blood still soaks his shirt. That scent would surely drive any creatures mad.

Ahead, no doubt, there is some deep stiring, Kal's finger rests on his trigger. "Chief, bugs. Request weapons-free."

'Granted. Get ready, squad, this is going to get bloody.'