Making a pair of blaster pistols appear on his manipulators as if by magic, Highsinger lays down a withering barrage of bolts at the scattering group of thugs. Although fully aware that from where he was shooting, the blasters would be little more than a light show; the halfwits below however were not and still dashed towards cover, giving the assassin droid the time to get down street level by jumping off, seemingly straight to the scrapheap in Phasma's eyes, but to Aladar's heightened senses, she could take note of the droid using a liquid-cable grapnel on the ledge to slow his rapid descent. Taking a little less than 5 seconds to return to ground level, Highsinger then shows just how deadly his blasters were in optimal range, blowing the heads off of a pair of thugs who had tried to take potshots at him as he made landfall before darting right behind a parked landspeeder, fast enough to seem little more than an abrupt grayish-gold blur before the eyes of his foes as he outran the blaster bolts sent towards him, his speed putting even the likes of force-sensitives to shame.
The thugs scattered, firing blindly and desperately at the killing machine as it continued to cut them down with pitiless efficiency. Whatever attempt at rallying the rest of the scum by the one with the loudest voice and the biggest gun did little good, too many of them were dying too quickly; one man choked on the ashes that was once his windpipe after a blaster bolt glanced off his armor and straight into his neck, a Klatooinian, probably high on stimm-spice got his leg severed from the knee after foolishly trying to charge into close combat with the gunslinging droid, utterly heedless of his injury, the reptilian still attempted to fire back even as he bled out on the street, another criminal had half his face blown off, in a twist of cruel irony his helmet had "saved" him from an instantaneous death towards a slow one, his screams of agony almost drowning out the roar of his partner's heavy blaster rifle pulverizing the landspeeder the droid had been hiding behind a split-second earlier before turning the gunner into a bonfire by sending a bolt straight down his rifle's barrel, destroying the weapon in a fiery conflagration rather than a blast powerful enough to turn him into a fine mist, the mishap no doubt due to the blaster gas being fouled by impurities. The immolated thug proceeded to cause further chaos as he ran right towards his comrades, begging them to put him out; to which they mercifully answer by reducing his upper body into a cloud of ash and embers with a volley of panicked blasterfire. Soon enough their initial confidence gave way to terror and disarray as they started to fall back into an alleyway, leaving their wounded behind, including a sniveling Rodian praying fearfully to a god that would never come, so lost was he in despair that he was oblivious to the world around him. Another bellowed out a war cry, half-mad, half terrified as he dashed out of cover in an attempt to get a clear shot at Highsinger, only to be unceremoniously shot dead.
As soon as the felinoid was thrown off the rooftop, the apprentice reached out and a set hand on Phasma's shoulder slowly shaking her head. The action was going to have to be Highsinger's alone "The riot we started will spill out into this area soon enough, we'll need to hang back and run interference" Something told her, that their participation wasn't quite necessary any way. Her eyes remained narrowed, calling on the force to amplify her senses in time to feel the life of yet another thug get snuffed out, this one's entire torso simply vanished when Highsinger made use of a heavy blaster from a Thug he quite literally disarmed and then turned the weapon loose on their friends. One of her hands idly twitched at her lightsaber as her blood began to boil, which was a feeling she hadn't known in a long time.
That smell of burnt plasteel and blood, even as an inquisitor she hadn't felt the call to combat. It had only been as a Jedi, when she was convinced she was on the "right" side. "Watch him, learn" she added to Phasma "I'll wager that you have never participated in municipal combat as part of a planetary invasion. I haven't in twenty years, its good for us to see what it's like" she recalled some of it, during the outer rim sieges. Even an eleven year old apprentice was expected to participate in battle, they were exhausting. "It can be like this for sometimes a month, its not the physical exhaustion that breaks you, it's the mental fatigue. I have a feeling, we'll all fight like this soon, with our backs to each other. You and I, we're different from our patrons, they were born to lead. We were born to fight and we're blessed that they'll bleed beside us but our job is not to let them, its to do this so they can ensure its done to a hundred other planets."
Beside the terrified Rodian, a Felecatian rushed out of the rubble of a burning speeder, its fur singed, its body shifting into the immense saber form. "LAZY WHORES, KRIFFING SLUGS, YOU CASTRATED WOOKIES, STAND UP, STAND UP AND FIGHT FOR THE BOSS"
The enormous spiked tiger charged towards Highsinger as he popped out of a garbage bin he had used as cover, his completely mad dash a mix of panic-induced madness and an obstinate desire to die on his feet, managing to rally several of the Chiss' thugs into a "glorious" charge. But the ground seemingly gave way beneath one of his enormous paws, whether compelled to by the force from the Apprentice or rotten luck. The beast let out a grunt, something snapped as the bones in its paw shattered and it was "carried" forward by its own momentum, planting violently into the ground and sliding for a few feet then coming to a stop before the feet of Highsinger.
"I never liked felines."
Just as the beast was about to snap at the killer in one final show of defiance, the droid's foot comes down on its face harder and faster than a meteorite; caving it in a shower of bone, teeth, blood and brain matter.
That was enough, everyone cut and ran, dropping their weapons and tearing their armor off; it would only weigh them down.
All save the quivering Rodian who tried to make himself as small as possible hiding among the dead, as more joined them, collapsing from bolts to the back. At first, he thought himself at last safe, beneath notice. That is until...
"I can hear your heartbeat."
And then that gods-awful clanking got closer and closer...
As the massacre took place, their employer was given live coverage as he listened to the terrified and pained cries of his men through their commlinks, the moment the line went dead with static, the Chiss threw his comm across the floor of his safe room in rage before he began to relentlessly circle around, absently placing a hand on one of his blasters as he thought of how he'll get out of his predicament. The bodyguards that were with him had listened to the screams echoing from the comm with visible trepidation, with Jouren glaring daggers as one of them began to whimper.
The thugs scattered, firing blindly and desperately at the killing machine as it continued to cut them down with pitiless efficiency. Whatever attempt at rallying the rest of the scum by the one with the loudest voice and the biggest gun did little good, too many of them were dying too quickly; one man choked on the ashes that was once his windpipe after a blaster bolt glanced off his armor and straight into his neck, a Klatooinian, probably high on stimm-spice got his leg severed from the knee after foolishly trying to charge into close combat with the gunslinging droid, utterly heedless of his injury, the reptilian still attempted to fire back even as he bled out on the street, another criminal had half his face blown off, in a twist of cruel irony his helmet had "saved" him from an instantaneous death towards a slow one, his screams of agony almost drowning out the roar of his partner's heavy blaster rifle pulverizing the landspeeder the droid had been hiding behind a split-second earlier before turning the gunner into a bonfire by sending a bolt straight down his rifle's barrel, destroying the weapon in a fiery conflagration rather than a blast powerful enough to turn him into a fine mist, the mishap no doubt due to the blaster gas being fouled by impurities. The immolated thug proceeded to cause further chaos as he ran right towards his comrades, begging them to put him out; to which they mercifully answer by reducing his upper body into a cloud of ash and embers with a volley of panicked blasterfire. Soon enough their initial confidence gave way to terror and disarray as they started to fall back into an alleyway, leaving their wounded behind, including a sniveling Rodian praying fearfully to a god that would never come, so lost was he in despair that he was oblivious to the world around him. Another bellowed out a war cry, half-mad, half terrified as he dashed out of cover in an attempt to get a clear shot at Highsinger, only to be unceremoniously shot dead.
As soon as the felinoid was thrown off the rooftop, the apprentice reached out and a set hand on Phasma's shoulder slowly shaking her head. The action was going to have to be Highsinger's alone "The riot we started will spill out into this area soon enough, we'll need to hang back and run interference" Something told her, that their participation wasn't quite necessary any way. Her eyes remained narrowed, calling on the force to amplify her senses in time to feel the life of yet another thug get snuffed out, this one's entire torso simply vanished when Highsinger made use of a heavy blaster from a Thug he quite literally disarmed and then turned the weapon loose on their friends. One of her hands idly twitched at her lightsaber as her blood began to boil, which was a feeling she hadn't known in a long time.
That smell of burnt plasteel and blood, even as an inquisitor she hadn't felt the call to combat. It had only been as a Jedi, when she was convinced she was on the "right" side. "Watch him, learn" she added to Phasma "I'll wager that you have never participated in municipal combat as part of a planetary invasion. I haven't in twenty years, its good for us to see what it's like" she recalled some of it, during the outer rim sieges. Even an eleven year old apprentice was expected to participate in battle, they were exhausting. "It can be like this for sometimes a month, its not the physical exhaustion that breaks you, it's the mental fatigue. I have a feeling, we'll all fight like this soon, with our backs to each other. You and I, we're different from our patrons, they were born to lead. We were born to fight and we're blessed that they'll bleed beside us but our job is not to let them, its to do this so they can ensure its done to a hundred other planets."
Beside the terrified Rodian, a Felecatian rushed out of the rubble of a burning speeder, its fur singed, its body shifting into the immense saber form. "LAZY WHORES, KRIFFING SLUGS, YOU CASTRATED WOOKIES, STAND UP, STAND UP AND FIGHT FOR THE BOSS"
The enormous spiked tiger charged towards Highsinger as he popped out of a garbage bin he had used as cover, his completely mad dash a mix of panic-induced madness and an obstinate desire to die on his feet, managing to rally several of the Chiss' thugs into a "glorious" charge. But the ground seemingly gave way beneath one of his enormous paws, whether compelled to by the force from the Apprentice or rotten luck. The beast let out a grunt, something snapped as the bones in its paw shattered and it was "carried" forward by its own momentum, planting violently into the ground and sliding for a few feet then coming to a stop before the feet of Highsinger.
"I never liked felines."
Just as the beast was about to snap at the killer in one final show of defiance, the droid's foot comes down on its face harder and faster than a meteorite; caving it in a shower of bone, teeth, blood and brain matter.
That was enough, everyone cut and ran, dropping their weapons and tearing their armor off; it would only weigh them down.
All save the quivering Rodian who tried to make himself as small as possible hiding among the dead, as more joined them, collapsing from bolts to the back. At first, he thought himself at last safe, beneath notice. That is until...
"I can hear your heartbeat."
And then that gods-awful clanking got closer and closer...
As the massacre took place, their employer was given live coverage as he listened to the terrified and pained cries of his men through their commlinks, the moment the line went dead with static, the Chiss threw his comm across the floor of his safe room in rage before he began to relentlessly circle around, absently placing a hand on one of his blasters as he thought of how he'll get out of his predicament. The bodyguards that were with him had listened to the screams echoing from the comm with visible trepidation, with Jouren glaring daggers as one of them began to whimper.
/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_asset/file/16011420/kotor_concept_art_1_700.jpg)
