The blue fought not just the shadows, but the red emergency lighting. It didn't take long for those with lightsabers to ignite theirs as sources of light as well. The low hum of the weapons resonating throughout the tunnel, occasionally dust would be knocked loose as a large thud told the tale of an explosion elsewhere in the temple. He didn't let himself think about it, to do so would be to admit defeat. The Jedi were not defeated, not on this day. It was unlikely that all the Jedi in the entire Galaxy would be wiped out in one fell swoop, tough he had to admit the fact that the Clones seemed to be an integral part in the attack meant that many thousands of Jedi would have been killed. Their last moments full of the thought of betrayal, that was no way for a Jedi to go.

He turned to the Initiate, now likely deserving to be a Padawan. "Don't worry youngling, we won't remain long in the dark. We shall find a way offworld where we can be safe and decide upon our next move. For now, we aren't far from the edge of the temple."

Then he felt the mental tug, he didn't notice if anyone else had felt it. It was another Jedi, or so the feeling of the message made it seem as such. The exact message would be impossible to try and decipher, few people mastered telepathy. Though the rough outline of the message was clear. He was there, he was waiting and willing to help. He almost considered trying to send some form of message back, though to do so could prove potentially dangerous. There was no telling who could pick up on it, as there was no way the Clones mounted such an effective attack on the temple without some major insider knowledge, and that meant one of their own had turned.

He lead the group around the final corner, a large bulkhead door visible several hundred meters away. "Come now, there is no time to waste. If any of you are good with technology, now is the time. I would rather not cut another door open leaving a trail for anyone to follow.

Technology? A small voice in the back of Lyla's head scoffed. This bulkhead barely deserves the name.

It was strange how she felt now. The thumps of distant explosions resonating through the surface of the planet made her feel almost safe. After all, they were deeper down than before and it was unlikely the clones had another ambush like this prepared; even if they wanted to lay one, they were slowly but surely approaching the depth where not every level was directly above or underneath another. From a certain depth downward, there were service levels in between, with generators, condensators, energy conduits, pipes for water, gases and sewage and small access tunnels for maintenance robots. The deeper you got, the more frequent those became; more and more of them would be abandoned, then some of the levels would be found in a state of disrepair, then some of them completely collapsed and, far, far below that, almost unreachable under level upon abandoned level: The actual surface of the planet, almost forgotten here at the heart of the planetary megalopolis.

But perhaps it was the lit lightsaber in her hand that had calmed her nerves - she had almost forgotten that she had one in the chaos of the ambush. Or maybe it was Enrik's hand that she was still firmly holding in her own.
Whatever it was, the darkness and depth she had been so very scared of seemed to have less power over her. Lyla felt focused enough to not only blank out all the terrible feelings that threatened to drown her once she would face them but also strong enough to consciously let the Force touch her again and reach out in it. But what happened wasn't conscious.

As they approached the thick reinforced door, she let go of her fellow initiate's hand and felt compelled to touch bulkhead, her plasteel appendages clicking softly on the metal surface.

"There are terminals on both sides", she murmured. She wasn't wondering out loud or asking somebody to confirm it - she simply knew that it was so, like touching it had revealed something self-evident.

With the sureness of a sleepwalker, she turned her head to the right and pointed directly at a piece of wall plating that looked exactly like all the ones around it and all the others in the corridor.
"There. It's behind that plate."

Nothing, not even a scratch or dent marked it as special in any way, and yet she wasn't convinced but knew for a fact that the terminal was hidden underneath. With slow, deliberate steps, she crossed the short distance and, with a light push and click as the mechanism unlocked, swung it open to reveal the cables and primitive terminal underneath.
It was only now that her conscious mind took over again and she typed in the simple commands necessary to open the obstacle in their way, which it did, the servos hidden in the walls protesting with rusty screams.

When it was open all the way and her companions had passed through, Lyla almost lovingly let her lightsaber graze the terminal and cables, melting them all into one, before hiding it all away behind the panel.
On the other side of the gateway, she walked up to an equally inconspicuous panel with the twin of the previous terminal, and with only a few movements of her half-mechanical hand, the gate closed with thundering finality, the only way to open it hidden again.

"It would take hours to get through it with brute force." She said it with a hint of pride in her voice. Being unable to help earlier had been weighing heavy on her heart but the feeling she had at that moment, the surprise she had sensed in some of the others as she revealed the hallway's secrets, seemed to make up for some of it.

And yet... There was something odd about this. Lyla had never been in this tunnel, had never seen this gate or these panels, and yet she had instinctively known or felt where she had to look. How was that possible? The Force didn't flow through lifeless objects, she was reminded of that every time she looked at her prosthetic fingers, but it couldn't have been instinct and knowledge on machines and technology alone, could it?

He felt nothing. No ripple, no tug, no nothing to indicate a reply at all. Admittedly, the Jedi had never been a good telepathy user and couldn't send any strong messages through the use of the force; even so, he half-expected to receive something back, anything at all. He felt alone once more, laying on the rooftop on his belly and his forehead pinned against to ground while listening in on the traffic above. He didn't hear the Z-95 quad engines shriek, but he could definitely pick up low rumbles of explosions not too far from his hiding spot. He assumed that it was the temple being hammered by the clones, a thought that only seemed to push him deeper towards dangerous emotions. For that reason, Aleko found it more and more difficult to focus on the imaginary schematics of the temple's innards, looking for a possible exit the surviving group would take.

With every explosion, the Temple's architecture might change. I can't be sure the service tunnels and other secret exits weren't also be destroyed. He thought as he opened his eyes, unable to coalesce a proper map based only on his memories; not only did he found it difficult to concentrate on himself, he didn't have extensive knowledge of the layout either. He was once more at an impasse.

Aleko crawled out from his cranny, confident that the two pilots were not on his back any more; still, he felt that a far more dangerous peril would come his way, as he was sure that they had called reinforcements from the temple to scour the area where he had ejected from his Cutlass. If the traitors were invested enough in eliminating the Jedi order, most surely they had brought clone commandos.

That's one of the last things I want to confront this day. I need to get to the Undercity fast.

Once he pushed himself up on his feet, he took a quick assessment of his surroundings to make sure there weren't any eyes on him and jogged his way to the edge of the structure's rooftop and peer down; he could see the crevice between the buildings go down a long distance into a mist below, which quickly convinced him that there was no way he could survive such a fall. And if he did survive, he still had to work his legs and find a nearby portal to fall through and access the infamous Undercity. Then, he focused on the complicated vents and pipework lining the walls, but, the more he looked at the external configuration of the structure's walls, the more disheartened he felt as he just couldn't find accessible ledges to aid him in his descent. The shapes were either too steep, or there was too much of a distance between them. There was just no way for him to go down, not without the help of at least an airspeeder. Coruscant had reached a point where the "surface" level could only be accessed by vehicles, only the rabble who dwelt in the Undercity would have the possibility to walk around. Looking across, the adjacent structure's roof was way too far from him, the gap in between couldn't be cleared even with an augmented jump.

Aleko frantically turned around to dash in the completely opposite direction, the darkness falling over the planet making it more and more difficult for him to discern the shapes of the various service constructions littering every rooftop of this level. He didn't know what else to do but to run as fast and as far as he could from there, for it was only a matter of time before he would have to face capable hostiles; the Force present in his musculature helped him jump on the top of the structures, it helped him cross the entire roof at a baffling speed, but he hit against the same problem once he stopped his dash to let his boots slide to the opposite edge of the roof. He peered down shook his head, seeing that there was no way he could get down from this side either. Nightmare.

There was a distinct hum closing in on him. He turned his head first, then, his entire torso. A second hum then made itself heard, a sound that not too long ago meant safety to him. Time had run out and there were very little options left for Aleko, the most obvious solution, hiding and sneaking, would only stall the inevitable. This time, he couldn't pull himself out of the situation with the help of terrain, since the troops would be on the roof scouring every corner with guidance and support from two LAATs surveying the search. All that Aleko could do now was to reach for the hilt hanging from the belt clip on his left hip, the shape and structure of the saber offered a sense of confidence and safety as he wrapped his fingers around the hilt and gripped it against the glove and flesh of his palm. He took a deep breath and straightened his back, opening his eyes only after he calmly exhaled. He could already see searchlights falling from somewhere above. He gritted his teeth and curled his toes, his knees creaked as he lowered his stance with a few centimeters. His left hand found the base of the hilt while the other found itself closer to the emitter shroud, his torso shifted sideways to put his right shoulder forward in a parallel position with his right foot. The inatcivated saber was lowered at his hips just by relaxing his shoulders, his eyes fixing on the two approaching LAATs.

He waited. Waited for them to find him.

The door closed behind them with a re-assuring thud and then a loud clunk as it locked itself in place. He nodded his large head and scanned the area around them. There was a staleness to the air and the edge of the tunnel was easily visible as a landing platform. No doubt that would be the last obstacle for them to face before truly being in the undercity. Somewhere they could easily get lost within the rabble of Coruscant. They were already deep enough for the Republic to not really matter to many of the people down here. If they continued to go down further soon people would even fail to believe in the existence of the Jedi. Though he knew that was not the way, it wasn't so much a thought he had but more of a feeling. He was trusting himself in the Force in this trying time. Now would be a foolish time not too after all, it was one of the few things that had not been stripped from them in the attack on the Jedi Temple.

He removed one of his long fingers from the activation stud of his lightsaber allowing the blade to dissipate. While he held the hilt of the weapon at his side he didn't dare clip it back onto his belt, at least not yet. There was no telling whether or not they were truly safe yet. While they were below the initial threat that was going on above there heads there was still a threat. The Clone Army could always decide to be thorough and head to the undercity surrounding the temple to ensure that no-one had decided to burrow themselves underground. They wanted to be as far away from the temple as possible when that happened. The further away they were the lower the chances of them being found, after all the undercity had a higher, and denser, population than those who were privileged enough to live above ground. They had to work that to their advantage. They had to work everything to their advantage now.

"Follow me young-ones. We'll make our way into the city, into the population and then we will find a way to blend in. From there we will be free. Do not fear, we are almost there."

As they escaped the dark narrow confines of the war-torn tunnels, Rylos expected to be met with some much needed fresh air; his lungs after all had taken in an almost debilitating amount of smoke and dust during their escape. He imagined that the others might have hoped for the same. However this small wish was not granted, for the air of the seedy undercity was just as polluted. The rich overpowering mixture of gas, waste and organic smells was enough to make most new visitors gag. Still, it was a step-up from the unmistakable smell of death that now consumed the temple.

Taking a quick rest, Rylos leant against the side of the wall and began to focus. Even with the implants and the use of the force, it was hard for him to continue to block out the pain from his injuries. With each passing minute he felt his ability to mask the pain slip and each movement became progressively harder. “You can still move Rylos. Don’t you dare hold your brothers and sisters back.” he ordered himself silently.

"Follow me young-ones. We'll make our way into the city, into the population and then we will find a way to blend in. From there we will be free. Do not fear, we are almost there."

Rylos looked up and the source of the voice, seeing the familiar visage of Master Worror. Rylos did not like the idea of traversing the under-city but he knew that it was their only real option. It was not only a simply horrible place to be, but for him it was almost a form of torture. So many people were cramped into the wretched slums, few of which had any decent standard of life – there was so much suffering and it was hard for him to block it out. For him, he always saw the conditions on the lower levels of Coruscant to be the biggest failing of the Jedi. Their order were supposed to be bastions of kindness, fairness, justice and mercy, and yet they lived comfortable lives in a grand temple whilst people literally suffered beneath their feet. So much darkness festered beneath and it really made one question how blind the Jedi really were.

“I suggest that even once we’re blended in (if that’s even a possibility at this point), that we keep moving and put some distance between us and the Temple. We won’t be able to shuttle off planet anywhere near here without being scanned and caught.” Rylos added as he stood back up-right, doing his best to hide his injury. His eyes darted between the survivors as he spoke, taking the opportunity to scan his comrades for the first time since encountering them. Although he was familiar with Worror, the only person that Rylos really knew was T'ish.

"We shouldn't stay on the upper levels", Lyla pointed out, a little surprised by how confidently she took part in this conversation. "Blending in with the population isn't enough. There's still enough surveillance in the undercity to find us or at least trace our steps if they know where we went. But below sublevel... 2-25, I think, there's a lot less of that. People aren't friendly that far down but they'll leave you alone if you look dangerous or poor enough, or if know where to hide."

She gave the Padawan next to her a sideways glance in the blue light of her saber. He was exhausted, that much was obvious. They all were, if they were completely honest, but he seemed to be hurt as well and the person who could have really helped him, the one who had helped her...
Lyla shook off the thought. She couldn't allow herself to let her mind wander in that direction, she needed to stay focused - she feared that once they took a rest, once she let herself think about all the others who had died, she wouldn't be able to pull herself together again. But there was no denying that they would not be able to leave the planet in their current clothes or state. At the very least, they needed to go down far enough so they could properly lose their pursuers, steal or buy new outfits and tend their wounds.

They were all due for a few hours of sleep but every second counted and even a brief respite could cost them what little they had gained. And if she was completely honest, she was feeling a hint of anger at how little attention Master Worror seemed to pay to what she said. Maybe that was why she pressed on.

"I know what places we could go to, how to disappear down here, where to find what we need. I hate the undercity more than anyone but I also know it better than anyone, even you, Master. Please... Please trust me and let me guide us."

Badump

Badump

Badump

Badump

The frantic beating of Charuri’s heart continued. Adrenaline coursed through her body, eyes dilated and senses heightened every nerve ending upon edge Not for the first time did she look behind her shoulder past her companions and into the darkness stretching before her. They had no light themselves but her own lowlight vision provided enough to peer into the unsettling silence. They had been lucky so far, since their first encounter with the clone squad, they had not been spotted since. Though if they reached out into the force, they could feel more and more bodies slowly filtering into the tunnels. They were caught in the middle of a net that was slowly drawing closed around them.

If Charuri had been alone she would not of been sure of her ability to make it of the chaos, but at the current moment at least the faint breathing behind her reminded she was not alone. Sure Jenner and Naat were both only padawans like herself, but they were both highly skilled and she wouldn't of been surprised if either of them had been promoted to knighthood. But.... now as the bombs fell above them and the smell of smoke and burning flesh slowly found its way through the vents and into the tunnels it would seem that their would not be any knighting ceremonies for awhile, maybe even forever. It was funny, one of the first lessons Feemor taught Charuri once the young Cathar had come under the venerable Jedi Master’s wing was the importance of change. As a practitioner of the Living Force it only made sense. She remembered his old sayings with melancholy know as she heard his voice in her head. As the seasons change so must you my young padawan.

Though this certainly could not be the change that Feemor had told her about. He had described something powerful and galaxy altering but at the same time gentle and warm— providing a cathartic release for the living. This, this felt nothing like that. This was angry and filled with hate, it was accented by the sounds of the dying and the shaking tremors in the force as hundreds of lives were silenced all across the galaxy. It felt less like a rebirth and more like an ending, a final denouement for the Jedi before a hand wrote The End on the page and would forever end their tale in the galaxy.

Trying to release the emotions from her body, to prevent the pessimistic thoughts from getting to her head, Charuri looked around. She remembered traveling through this service tunnels in her younger years and dominating them, knowing the passageways and the shortcuts like the back of her hand. Now it was several years later and in the chaos of the moment, caught in the dark her memory was starting to fail her. The featureless walls all were starting to look the same and the longer they pushed the less they seemed to move forward in time. Her worst fears came to light as they came across a familiar intersection as five separate tunnels stretched out around her she cursed under her breath and slammed a hand into the nearby wall. The gravity of the situation and her own panicking having caused more obvious cracks in her composure.

“Chaos take me...... I just lead us in another karking circle. Nice job, Charuri present a brilliant escape plan to live another day and you can’t even make it out of the tunnels. Why do you even try sometimes? ” She voiced out loud to her companion's, voice accented with a slight tremor, her back turned to them as she hammered her fist into the wall once again, clearly frustrated and still rather frazzled by the circumstances in front of her.

As Charuri lamented over the feeling of being lost, Naat didn’t seem to share in her frustration even though she very well knew that danger could have been very well approaching them. Her first Jedi Master had taught her to think on her feet and aggressively get to the bottom of a situation, a fact that recalled as she stood there as Charuri continued with her self-depreciative complaints. A smirk rose on the blonde-haired girl’s lips as she recalled something in the back of her mind about the teachings of Master Shen-Jon. That thought took her back, albeit briefly, to a situation she had been in with her master and the words he told her: ”Waiting afraid of the wrong answer will only lead to defeat. There is a time for contemplation but this is a time of action. Let us not dwaddle as enemies are at our heels.”

“Well, I’m not going to flop on my back and let blaster fire take us. My master said something to me once: there is a time for contemplation but this is a time of action. We pick one and move before this whole place comes down upon us. I will not meet ghosts so soon.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re not the one that is going to get us killed if you pick the wrong tunnel.” Charuri responded with a soft but noticeable tone of bitterness to her voice. But what was she supposed to suspect from Naat? She spent her days more focused on swinging her lightsaber. Faced all her problems with brute force.

“We go this way.” Naat replied bluntly as she pushed past her friend and fellow Jedi, taking the decision out of her hands.

"You sure about that? We don't have time for any more wrong turns." Charuri called after Naat nervously as she lead the group onward into the darkness. Slowly though the nervousness began to subside as she began to notice things, the air gradually became cooler and beyond the rumblings of the bombardments and the blaster fire above, they could hear a different kind of roar the roar of masses of life slowly coming through the force. And final clarification came in the form of an age old sign on the tunnel wall, rusted from the constant condensation in the tunnel but still barely readable.

Exit.

“Guess we're almost out of here. Hope one of you has a plan once we get out though. The undercity isn't the nicest place in the world.” She muttered, as she looked at the sign for a moment trying her best yet obviously failing to hide her signs of relief.

Naat nodded before she called back to the Cathar, “How familiar are you with Coruscant’s undercity?”

“Enough to not get us killed. But not much beyond that.” It was true enough. Feemor and her had done a few missions in the undercity, mostly to secure some ceasefires between the gangs that had ran rampant down there for years. The Republic had enough to worry about with the war going on, they didn't need to worry about a gang war starting.

Naat nodded, “With your familiarity I suppose you should take point again, then?”

“You sure you don’t want to remain upfront Ms. Battlefield Commander? You're obviously much better suited to a leadership position than me.” Charuri responded obivously not wanting leadership thrust upon her again, she casted a look towards Jenner who only shrugged in response obviously wanting to stay out of it.

“We can share, if you’d like.” Naat shook her head, nearly chuckling at the retort.

“....That would be ideal. I’ll make sure we don’t get lost and you do your fancy stuff with your lightsaber to make sure we don't get killed. Deal?” Charuri responded with something that almost resembled a grin, as somehow even despite all the prior events the mood began to lighten.

They pushed forward until they came to another intersection. This one was simple their tunnel continued forward towards the perceived exit and a large horizontal cross path disected it. As soon as they entered the intersection, Charuri felt it. Something off and something wrong and then suddenly life burst through the force. The sounds of footsteps in the darkness, she ignited her lightsaber looking left then right frantically. Dread filled her body once more as faceless white forms filled in the three tunnels around them. Of course the clones would have plans of the temple, of course they would know of simple exits like the supply tunnels, of course they would set up traps for any survivors. They had fallen right into the center of the net. But Charuri would not go easily, not without a fight. She could not die yet. As the clones surrounded them and moved in for the kill she reacted like a spring uncoiling. Reaching her hand out in front of her at the lead trooper she reached out into the force and pushed hard with her mind. For a second nothing happened but then she felt it happen, a sudden push as the lead clone was thrown backwards off his feet as if he just got punched in the chest. He tumbled backwards into his companions with a cry. They were preoccupied for a moment. A moment was all they needed.

“RUN!!”

Naat’s brows narrowed, in a sense of fight or flight… survive or die. Had she had not to worry about Jenner or Charuri perhaps she would have acted differently. Air left her lips as Charuri’s cry to run came out like thunder and Naat frowned as the situation’s intensity seemed to increase exponentially by the second. Her lightsaber had drawn and the flash of blue hued at the intersection as the shadows of the overcity made it seem like it was as dark as the night. Her eyes looked to Jenner who had choked in the stress of the situation. She was sure Charuri saw Jenner’s fear take him and if they were jedi they would not leave a comrade behind. Naat sent out a push of force with her free hand to give additional impact on their former comrades in arms… their current enemies. Eight. That was the number of the troopers around Naat Reath. But it didn’t really seem to affect her— she had dealt with worse odds and situations during her time serving as a Jedi Commander; she would not be afraid even in the shadow of death.

The world seemed to slow down around them as instincts began to take over. Seeing Jenner freeze up, without even Charuri thought reached out and grabbed the sleeve of his brown robe dragging him forward. She slashed out widely with her other hand her movements traced by a flash of brilliant green to keep the clones away. Ploughing her shoulder into one of the troopers she knocked him to the side as she dragged herself and Jenner forward. The other padawan's feet moving listlessly behind him.

A flash and a cry. Suddenly she felt her arm connected to Jenner begin to be pulled downwards. The pair stumbled to the ground as Charuri hit the floor with a thud. Rolling over she saw that a blaster shot had torn straight through Jenner’s calf ripping and sundering through flesh and bone. Frantically Charuri moved to her feet trying to pull Jenner up but now failing as the larger and heavier boy could not help her support his weight as his leg hang limp under him. She looked back desperately at Naat who was still deep in the fray.

“Charuri this is never going to work.” Jenner spoke as Charuri continued to try every method to be able to get him to his feet. She knew that he was right but she wasn't going to stop. She refused to try and stop, they were Jedi, they saved people that was what they did. Too many had died today, too many had died and Jenner would not be added to the list. Shaking her head she continued trying to pull him up only for his body to fall down. She was too weak and he was too injured to help. She felt as his hands grasped her shoulders stopping her motions as she began to try another attempt to lift him.

“Listen Charuri. You gotta go help Naat. They are all focused on her and even as good as she is. She can’t escape from that alone. She and you still have a chance. My leg is gone, not even bacta would save it now. You have to let go.” Jenner explained meeting her eyes. It was strange what was once filled with fear moments ago was now replaced with an almost ethereal calm as if he knew what the will of force know was. As if everyone suddenly made sense with a blindy clarity that one can only have moments before the end. But he was right the clones at least for the moment had forgotten about the pair.

“Jenner... I can’t. We are Jedi, we are supposed to preserve life. I can’t leave you to be killed by them.” Charuri pleaded her voice desperate and pleading as she fought back tears as she continued to try and get him back to his feet but at this point it was pretty much a fight that had already been lost.

“But sometimes the best way to honor a life is to let it go. Or at least that’s what Master Fora always told me.... And right now the best way you can help me is by helping me let go.” He responded to her trying to keep a straight face through the pain as he dragged her hand still clutching her now unignited lightsaber to the center of his chest. “I don’t want to give them the satisfaction of killing me. I want to die with my honor and dignity in tact. I don’t want to be put down like some sort of dog.” Charuri continued to shake her head even as in the back of her head and far away she could hear Naat talking.

“Why are you doing this? This is genocide.” Naat questioned as her blue eyes looked upon the troopers before her as the hue of her lightsaber guarded her form. The jedi padawan couldn’t understand the actions that caused such a camaraderie to turn into treachery. Sure, she had read the texts and read of several Jedi who fell to the darkness of the force but this was different. She had fought with troopers on Sarapin, Tatooine, Krant, and Malastare. A rumbling of force energy left Naat as she asked her question; her longing for an answer reaching out to the minds of the clone troopers before them.

“I...I can’t. That’s against the code Jenner, that’s against everything we stood for, everything we still stand for. The force decides who lives or dies, we don’t, we are not executioners. You don’t kill unless in self defense!” She protested even as his hands found hers and lead them over to the button which would ignite the saber. She was openly crying at this point, her body shaking as she continued to shake her head.

”Charuri please...”

As Charuri and Jenner found themselves distracted, back at the intersection a response came from one of the clone trooper’s that had turned their attention on Naat Reath… and an answer that just seemed to open more questions for the padawan. “Just following orders.”

Naat felt disgust at the answer as the troopers regained most of their composure; at least the one’s who were not aiming down at Jenner and Charuri, anyway. Naat’s eyes seemed to go ‘dead’ as she took in their answer; analyzing her enemies in seconds. Five of them were aiming down at the other two jedi while three were preparing to blast her like they were so eager to comply with. Naat was angry and she would not let this be the end. The padawan's thoughts went back to Master Windu and the way she held her lightsaber’s hilt shifted to a change in form. She would have to rely on a style that was fast but more importantly… unforgiving. But it would be the first time she would use such a thing in combat.

“I’m sorry.” Naat whispered before she moved— the force pushing her body forward with vicious speed.

There is no passion, there is serenity.

There was more blaster fire and screams… but none of them were Naat’s. The sound of bodies hitting the metal floor… and then a scream of frustration, a click as two pairs of hands moved together, a snap hiss, a gasp and then nothing. Charuri looked down at her hands as she pulled the lightsaber out of Jenner’s chest. There was a smile on his face. Legs shaking... no her entire body shaking, the sensation of wanting to vomit building in her stomach. She looked back down the tunnel where Naat stood alone, a silent figure of tranquil fury. She connected eyes with her. She tried to speak, she tried to say anything but as soon as she did she buckled over and emptied the contents of her stomach.

As silence overtook the intersection, Naat frowned as the hum of her lightsaber went dead as it whisped back into the tool. She said no words as she attempted to re-center herself as she began to walk away from the bodies before her, reaching down and grabbing one of the trooper carbine weapons from the floor. Naat could feel the darkness growing… looming; she wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“May the force forgive us both.”

"I do trust you youngling, though we must be careful not to venture too deep. The deeper we go the less likely we are to find a vessel capable of taking us off-world. You forget, we may not be that far from the sunlight but it still never ventures its way down here. For the second you go below the artificial surface of Coruscant you enter the underworld. I trust you can keep us off the streets until we can find suitable garb for the roles we must play in order to get off this planet and to safety." Worror walked to the edge of the small landing platform. The platform and the Temple wall itself seemed like a giant cliff sectioning off this particular part of the undercity. The platform they stood on gave him an excellent vantage point on the city itself. Though it presented it's own challenge, that he would tackle in due time. Of that, there was no doubt.

He pointed one of his long fingers in one direction in particular, a ship could be seen rising. "Over there, there must be some form of landing platforms for ships venturing down below the surface. If you can get us there, then we can get off this planet youngling.-" He turned to face her. "-If there is one thing I do not doubt it is that you will lead us there safely. You can do this, we trust you and have faith. Now you must be sure to have faith in yourself and in the Force." It was times like this he really wished he was capable of a humanoid smile. He knew that such gestures often re-assured the younger members of many species. Sadly he doubted that she could recognize Ithorian body language so a re-assuring pat on the shoulder would have to do for now, as would the tone in his natural voice. Not the grainy robotic voice that his translator liked to use. He had always wished that he had been given the time to tweak it into something warmer and more comforting, though that was the job of his words he supposed.

He turned to T'ish. "If you are well versed in your telekinetic abilities, follow me." He turned to the two younglings and Padawan. "Once I am done look for my lightsaber. When you see it, one of you jump. The next person shall wait until the flash of my lightsaber again." With that, standing on the edge. He leaned backwards, twisting himself to face down as he did so. He didn't approve of many of the moves done by some of the flashier Jedi though he always liked this one. Feeling the air, even as damp and horrible as the air in the undercity, rush past you without a speeder or a ship was a truly mindblowing experience. Though in no-time at all the bottom was in sight, concentrating on the Force he pulled as much power as he could muster into his right hand and then...

pushed.

The push acted as a stop, slowing him down so that when he turned himself to land on his fleet instead of breaking his legs or turning into a gooey puddle he merely had to go into a roll to lose what little was left of his momentum. Looking up he prepared himself to catch whomever decided to take a leap of faith first, igniting his lightsaber and waving it for a second as a signal before clipping it back onto his belt.

Rylos listened as the youngling gave her two creds. He was surprised that someone her age was confident enough to suggest a course of action to her elders, let alone given the gravity of their situation. He was also curious as to how she seemed to have such a good understanding of the Underworld; she said that she “hated” it but he could feel within her a mixture of other emotions too, like pain, fear and even a hint of humiliation. He pondered if her partially cybernetic hand was somehow a result of whatever she had experienced in the dark bellows of Coruscant. He might have dwelled on the topic more had his attention not then been drawn back to Master Worror as he gave his directions.

"Once I am done look for my lightsaber. When you see it, one of you jump. The next person shall wait until the flash of my lightsaber again."

Gunmetal blue eyes watched cautiously as the leathery old Ithorian gracefully flopped over the edge and plummeted to the level far below. Jedi or not, it was still an odd sight to see, especially when performed by someone of such an age. Rylos even found himself almost instinctively grasping at Worror with the force as he dived, but was able to resist the urge.

“Did he make it alright?” Rylos asked, the intonation revealing a sense of worry. The question was poised at T’ish, who stood nearest to the edge and seemed ready to follow suit. Without waiting for an answer, Rylos then turned to the younglings and spoke in as reassuring a tone as he could muster “I’ll go last and make sure you both get down safely.”

"We must be careful not to venture too deep", the master had said. Lyla didn't want to interrupt or talk back to him but he wasn't right this time. Going deep was exactly what they had to do, venturing below the levels that were under surveilance, to the areas where the security forces didn't dare to go and even the clones would think twice before descending to. They had to drop off the map, dive below the surface and come up farther away where their enemies weren't looking too closely. In the bowels of the city, they would find what they needed, clothes and perhaps even a contact for their escape. She knew that he was thinking practically, that not just disappearing was important but that they reached somewhere where they could leave the planet from in the time they had before... before what? Before whoever was behind this attack made their next move? Who could have done something like this? Who had the authority to send the Army into the Temple? The Military headquarters? The Senate? ... The Chancellor?

Maybe he was right - reaching somewhere closeby might be better. The place he pointed at... Yes, Anchorpoint 3-9. The ascending ships had always caught her eye, both when she lived below them and above. Countless hours had been spent watching them rise from the depths (or from above her) through the atmosphere until they shrinked to specks of dust in the air. It was her home before she had a place to call home. How ironic that, now that the Temple was gone, she had to return there one last time.
Master Worror urged her to have faith in herself and the Force but all she could really do was nod weakly, still unable to muster a smile, and disguise her lack of faith in anything as grim determination - a disguise that was flawed, for she was fidgeting with her cybernetic prosthetics, the same she always did when she was nervous.

As he stepped off the platform, Lyla felt her heart skip a beat. Never in a thousand years would she have done the same. Where did he take this determination, this optimism from? She... didn't have anything left to hold on to. No... No, it was worse than that, far worse.

The blue she had been watching out for flared up in the near-dark of the chasm. Was it a glimmer of hope? Or had the Master's sword bounced off the ground as he smashed into it and lit up, luring whoever was foolish enough to take a leap of faith into a deadly trap? Not wanting to fall into one, she reached out into the Force, focused on the stream of life and energy around them. It had never felt this hollow before, despite the billions around her. Thousands of beacons in this eternal dark had been extinguished; and yet that made it easier for her to see the ones that were left, to make out the ever-calming presence of Master Worror below her, the Jedi around her... and more. Yes, two here, one there and... two more, different, strange, frightening, unshackled.
She opened her eyes and let her focus go, but the odd sensation in her stomach remained.

She saw the Kel'dor hesitate, still preoccupied with his thoughts, perhaps even unsure of his strength in the Force - or maybe it was just the Padawan who gave her curious glances who had his attention. All of them lingered... the few of them that remained, anyway. Lyla stepped up to Enrik and, for some reason, took his hand and pressed it. She felt compelled to say something, anything, to him, perhaps because he had been so slow to move in the tunnel.
"I'll see you at the bottom."

Her last look wasn't directed at her fellow youngling, though, but at the boy - or was he a young man? - who hadn't missed what she said. And before she could change her mind, before anything could hold her back, she ran to the edge and jumped.

Immediately, all her organs shifted upwards as gravity pulled her down with unforgiving determination. The platform disappeared from her sight and she watched as lights and metal rushed past her - no, she was the one rushing, the one falling faster and faster.
The ground was hard to make out and all she could really tell was that it was coming closer, ever closer. She could hardly breathe despite the air flowing all over her, deafening her as it blew through her robes and long, open hair, her ribbon undone at last and gone with the wind. Fear constricted her chest and tightened its grip like a vice as she fell.
And there it was, the bottom of this abyss, running up to meet her. Surely the master would slow her descent somehow, right? What did he ask about? 'Telekinetic abilities.' Lyla had always had a talent for them.

She stretched out her arms out before here, as if groping in the dark for the metaphoric resistance that might stop her from meeting the literal one. And when she found it, seeing a wall of black too close for comfort, she pushed with everything she had. She slowed... slowed... and came to a halt. For a moment, just one moment, she was amazed that it even worked. But then, the laws of physics came back into effect - despite her success, she had been too high, fifteen, twenty meters above the ground yet. She heard herself cry out in desperation and terror, screwed her eyes shut, braced herself for the blinding pain... that never came. The sensation that greeted her was more akin to landing on a cushion and as she lowered her arms and opened her eyes, she found herself standing upright on the ground, Master Worror opposite of her, his non-human mimic unreadable to her as always. An Ithorian's eyes usually said more about what he was thinking than anything else; maybe he was proud of her for almost managing to break her fall herself; maybe he was disappointed that she had thought he would fail to catch her.

But she didn't pay attention, didn't meet his look for more than a splitsecond. Lyla didn't even say 'thank you'. All she managed was giving him the faintest of nods as he turned to flash his lightsaber once more.
The girl knew that, if she had opened her mouth, she would break down and start crying. Even now, she had trouble controlling the tremor that took hold of her body once more, undone by almost falling to her death. She didn't dare to look inside, to let any of her feelings well up, to let her mind wander back the way they came because she feared what she would find, feared that all she had done and seen and felt that day would shatter her and maybe she wouldn't be strong enough to put herself back together.

So she suppressed the thoughts, the feelings, wound herself up as tightly as she could, let the pounding heartbeat in her ears drown any echo of an idea as she brushed her disheveled, windswept hair aside and looked up to the platform, deciding that she would assist the Master if she could.

Rylos stood patiently as he waited his turn to jump down. With each passing second he knew the chances of an attack grew ever larger. He watched as the young girl, Lyla, squeezed the hand of her friend and spoke her temporary farewell. Even without his empathetic abilities, he could see something was wrong though; the young boy beside her just stood cold still and seemingly did not respond to her comforting. There were no emotions radiating off him either, as if his young mind had simply grinded to a halt. He was in shock, and understandably so.

"I'll see you at the bottom." the young girls words barely sunk it before Rylos witnessed her run off the edge after their master’s beacon. Rylos waited for her to leave before addressing the issue with the boy.

“T’ish, the boy’s in shock. We’ll have to sling him to Worror or carry him down.” A pained tone carried across his words, both from the physical pain and the emotional stress of the situation. The Jedi investigator took a knee besides the young boy and took a look into his horrified unresponsive eyes. Bloodshot streaks and a ring of ebony circled the boy’s irises as they stared off into nowhere in particular. It was unsettling to see and reminded him of the eyes of the victims he had seen in the temple only a short while before. This close he could also smell the faint smell of urine and some dark stains could be seen through the child’s filthy robes. “What’s your name champ?” Rylos asked in a vain attempt to snap the boy back into reality, “Come on kid, stay with us. We need to get moving. We’re going to get you somewhere safe – I won’t let anything hurt you.”

“Go.” came the familiar synthetic voice of his Kel Dor comrade as he felt a reassuring hand place itself on his shoulder. “Worror is signalling for the next person. You go. I’ll look after the boy.”

Rylos wasn’t in a position to argue with an elder Jedi, especially one that he knew and trusted. Besides he knew T’ish could look after the boy better than he could. Standing upright, Rylos gave his friend a nod and a return pat on the shoulder before going to join Worror and Lyla below. Gaining some momentum before the edge, Rylos more hopped off the side than dived off, making a conscious effort to remain upright as he fell. Cold wind brushed violently against his body, causing his loose brown robes to flap frantically and flay upwards. He shifted his focus away from pain management and towards his balance, preparing to use the force to land safely as he had done many times before. But this was different to the previous times. His mind was clouded, his body battered, and his control of the force weakened, and it was only by the assistance of Worror that he was able to survive the harsh landing. But even so, the pain from his injuries and a not so graceful landing caused Rylos to stumble as he landed and he found himself crashing onto the floor.

---

Worror pushed his hands up to slow both the flowing Jedi when it was their times. He nodded to Lyla in a form of thanks as above the 'ran' as many of the inhabitants called it began falling from above. He let his lightsaber flash again as signal to the Jedi still remaining up on the platform. He could feel the uneasiness of the other youngling from here, no doubt T'ish was trying to re-assure him into jumping. After all Worror had not let any of them die so far, but he understood the young ones reservations. So much had happened in such a short time that even he was still processing it. For a youngling who had only ever known the walls of the temple it would be a shock to the system to say the least. He didn't want to rush things, but the longer they remained in the open in their Jedi attire the more likely they were to get noticed.

That's when a series of flashes could be seen flying overhead, and the Jedi up there were... they were just gone. A small cylinder rolled and fell over the edge. Reaching out with the Force Worror grabbed it and lowered it slowly into his hand. It was the Kel Dors Lightsaber, still cool to the touch as the Jedi didn't even have a moment to activate the blade. Pain tugged at his hear though he couldn't dwell on it, they could not stay here for much longer. They had to go. He turned to Lyla. "Find us somewhere nearby quickly where we can get a change of clothes. If anyone asks you two are brother and sister and I am your slave. From this moment on our lives are in the hands of you two, I will not speak unless spoken too."

Such tests, should not be taken under such circumstances. Such trials should not be so painful... such events should never occur. He still had no real idea on what they would do once they made it offworld, all he knew is that they must make it offworld. There was no other choice. Lyla had a point about the undercity but they would be lost, maybe not in the spatial sense but in the metaphysical sense. No, they had to find themselves again and they could not do so on a world with such a large gaping wound such as what was once home to the Jedi Order.

On the outside, Lyla was completely indifferent to the deaths above them, her eyes blinking impassively up at the platform as more Jedi she had barely known were slaughtered.
But inside her, everything was different. The moment they died, she felt a sharp tug in her chest, her usually weak Force senses hit with the strength of a fist to the stomach; her ears were filled with a strange noise, like cracking glass, and she knew that this was only for her to hear, her mind's way of telling her that it couldn't take anymore, that the pressure was too high and she needed to vent some of it right now.

But she held herself together, the strain of doing so driving her brain to a form of physical punishment: For the first time in years, she felt her missing fingers again, but instead of being joyfully reunited with her, they sent angry waves of pain through her arm and up her spine, causing Lyla to craddle her arm and biting her lower lip hard enough to draw blood to keep herself from letting any of it out. It didn't go away either - after a few seconds, the intense agony was replaced with a throbbing pain in the limbs that weren't there anymore. She tried to convince herself that it wasn't real, that what wasn't there couldn't hurt, but the girl understood why it was happening, that she needed to play her part before she broke down completely, and break down she would.

Had the Master's idea of a cover allowed it, she would have taken his hand in her need for comfort and even the faintest sense of safety. Instead, her right grasped the Padawan's left painfully tight, her plasteel prosthetics hard against his flesh. Her head was swimming with emotions she was trying hard to suppress and she didn't dare take a glance at him or speak to him; she was like a bactatank filled to the absolute maximum and even the tiniest drop would make her spill over. Her gesture conveyed everything she needed, a single thought so strong, so desperately clear in her mind that it was 'transmitted' through the Force, not only to the young man whom's hand she was holding but beyond that - Don't leave me alone. I can't do this alone.

And then, she started walking, at first pulling the Padawan along but, once he had regained his composure, overcame his hesitation or whatever it was that was holding him back, soon merely leading him and their 'slave'.

At first, her movements were erratic, her eyes looking for anything she would recognize so she could pinpoint their location, the phantom pain rising and falling in intensity and making her half-artificial hand tighten its grip accordingly, but after a few minutes, enough to make her companions have their first doubts about her leadership, she seemed to find what she was looking for and her steps henceforth had a clear direction.

Lyla led the two surviving Jedi down several elevators and a few service shafts, through maintenance tunnels and underground alleys, her feet only stopping to wait for them, her hand only leaving Rylos' when they had to climb. Surprisingly little had changed below the surface in the past decade and she recognized places, faces, even individual piles of junk. As terrifying as the notion of returning here had been, it was strangely comforting in a twisted way, like an abusive parent.

After only half an hour, they had acquired three sets of less conspicuous clothing (without the consent or knowledge of the owners), a little bit of food and water and, turning around a corner and squeezing through the minimal gap between two broken condensators, a hiding spot that was cold, dark and damp but out of the way and, by the looks of it, abandoned - the ideal place to take a short breather and change their attire.
They were only a few levels below the Anchorpoint and, on foot, perhaps another half an hour to an hour away.

Not waiting to see what her companions would do, Lyla took a few listless bites out of the dried something she had stolen for them, drank a little bit to moisten her parched throat and retreated into a corner of the confined room to change into the black, clingy outfit that had seen better days - not that it made a difference in terms of actual privacy but given the circumstances, modesty was the least of their concerns.