Objective: Naboo RPG (Page 4 of 7)

"COME ON!!!!"  MYERS was shouting as he sput a few more bolts on target when to his suprise a MANDO was making a sprint for a speeder, his speeder, the one rigged to blow.  When the unlucky MANDO was close enough to get in he thumbed the switch.

BOOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The explosion lit up the night sky and temporarily quited teh kill zone as all turned to admire the explosion.  MYERS took the opportunity to press his temporary advantage and was on his feet moving slowly and shooting at any targets available.  The MANDO was out and MYERS wasn't sure if he was dead or not, either way a few more bolts in him wouldn't hurt.

As he drew near some wreckage he stopped to change a spent energy cell and thumb the safety off the last charge. 

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Someone, RD or whoever finish me off, but give me a good send off.

I'll be out of town for the weekend so good luck and I'll pick up as a member of TRU reinforcing the palace and have some characters ready for you guys to kill.

'oya'

Joslyn saw that Dachande had taken out the Naboo soldier that had been close to killing Jag. She could see Jag’s bios in her HUD and knew he wasn’t dead. She ran over to his unconscious form and grabbed him by the collar of his flight suit and attempted to drag him back towards the relative safety of the group. “You need to go on a diet,” she cursed as she tried to pull him along.

Dachande grabbed Jag by the head and tossed him towards the others. Joslyn hadn’t expected it and lost her balance as she let go of Jag. “Some warning would have been nice,” Joslyn said to Dachande, but the alien already has his back to her, on the prowl.

Joslyn decided to use what she called a spikey. They were small bombs that had vicious prongs that stuck into anything. Joslyn activated the thing to explode 5 seconds after impact. Then threw the first and watched as it embedded into a Naboo soldier. “Prepare for mess!”

The soldier blew apart and splattered the pristine marble. “Ew,” Joslyn commented, “I’d hate to be the janitor.”

((No problem dude, Dachande can deal with it))

Dachande had just thrown the mandalorian, Jag he believed he was called, when he heard a metallic 'tink' He looked around and saw a small tube roll from the soldiers hand, right down to him. Dachande began to run, shoving the female away from the grenade and leaping into the air.

The grenade went off, the explosive force launching him a few extra feet. He felt something punch through his legs and lower back. He heard pings as shrapnel bounced off his gauntlets. He managed to catch hold of a ledge, hanging there, his shiftsuit engaged as he tried to clear his head, there was an awful ringing underlying everything, and he was dizzy. It passed quickly, and he hauled himself up onto the ledge, lying on the rooftop. He then pulled his medicomp from his belt, he needed to extract the shrapnel, stop the bleeding. He needed to do it quickly. There was a battle to be fought.

"Ah, fierfek..." Tracyn grumbled. A speeder had blown up, sending flames and jagged sheets of metal flying. He felt the shrapnel ping on his armor, but none of it pierced his bodysuit. Dachande was picking shrapnel out of his legs, and Solus was no where to be seen. Tracyn fired his powerful blaster at a group of guards, but he had to take cover as a hail of blaster bolts sped back in retaliation.

The guard's fire blasted the head off the ornate marble statue that he was hiding behind of. Tracyn quickly ducked into a building to his right. He saw Solus getting off a crushed table. Suddenly, Solus clutched his shoulder.

"What happened, Solus?" Tracyn asked.

"I fell through the kriffing roof and dislocated my shoulder." Solus replied.

"Well, pop it back in, and lets rejoin the fight." Solus popped it back in, and flinched VERY slightly at the pain.

"Lets go kick some Naboo shebs." Solus said, drawing his weapon.

Venla had been left in one of the security rooms within the palace. The sound of fighting was fairly close and she was getting jumpy sitting alone in the room. She could sit no longer she got up and opened the door to peer outside.

She picked up a small blade as she made her way outside with shaking hands. She wished she was wearing more than her ankle length pink satin nightdress but under the circumstances there was little she could do about it. With wide eyes she moved away from the security room and hoped she was going in the right direction.

Solus jerked the grapple cable loose from the roof brace and retracted it back into his gauntlet. He clenched his shoulder; the pain was dull, but constant. He looked up to find another Mandalorian standing against the doorway, Traycn was what everyone called him.

"What happened, Solus?"

"I fell through the kriffing roof; dislocated my shoulder."

"Well pop it back in, we need to get back out there and rejoin the fight."

Solus cocked his head to the side as if he was slightly irritated at the statement, then slammed his shoulder up against the marble tiled wall. With a satisfying pop, it was back in the joint.

He unholstered his pistol and spun it a few times; forwards and backwards, then threw it over his shoulder catching it with his other hand, spinning forwards again, then stopping it by cocking the hammer.

"Let's go kick some Naboo shebs."

"Let's." Traycn agreed, then began to charge out the door.

"Wait." Solus reached into one of his belt pouches, pulling out a DetPack. He placed it on the wall about 3 meters to the right of the blown open door, then backed away. "Three...Two...One..."

The courtyard was sprayed with sharp marble fragments and duracrete from the explosion.
Solus gave a noticeable satisfactory nod as he was sprayed with dust and debris.

"WHAT WAS THAT?!" Tracyn shouted at Solus, genuinly confused.

"I didn't feel like walking out the door."

Jag was dreaming of Mandalore.  Of his daughter.  Of his wife.  He stared into her eyes and all was bliss.  It was glorious.  If he was dead maybe Jag could get used to this.  But something felt wrong.  Suddenly it was all going away.

"On your feet soldier, on your feet!"  He blinked and saw Joslyn's T-visor looming over his face.

"And to think.  I give up dreaming of beautiful women for you."

Solus sprinted after the team, still being shot at by the sniper that shot Traycn. He jumped and tried dodging every which way, but he was a persistent little chackaar. Solus ducked into the next street and dropped to the ground. A green beam of energy streaked by where he was just standing. He very slowly crawled to the corner of the building, and lined up a shot on the Naboo sniper. He pulled the firing stud; the vapor trail of the bullet was faintly visible as it cut through the faint smoke.

It found it's mark.

The poor man's head exploded, showering bone fragments and brain matter in all directions from the 13mm projectile boring through his skull.

"Ke nu jurkad sha Mando'ade."

Solus' HUD scanned the area, it was clear. He stood back up and chased down his squad.

**Decided to remove the humorous post as it didn't fit with the mood of the story, also deleted subsequent posts. Ralin had a plan afterall... **

"And to think.  I give up dreaming of beautiful women for you." Had been Jag’s ungrateful response to Joslyn waking him up.

“Fine then I’ll leave you to die in you stupid comatose state next time,” Joslyn growled.

“I wasn’t comatose, just remembering what I’m fighting for,” Jag spat back.

“Really? You fighting, looked like you were just getting thrown around like a child’s rag doll.” Joslyn said taking a step towards him.

Jag stepped forward also, “I was going to improvise but some people just can’t hack that sort of thing.”

“You nearly got yourself and the rest of us killed with your improvising,” Joslyn said as she shoved him.

“You don’t want to start a fight with me, little girl.” Jag said as moved slowly back towards Joslyn.

“Well this little girl would kick your useless behind if you tried it on,” Joslyn said as she holstered her blasters and got ready to brawl, ignoring the chaos around them.

"Hey! You two! Cut the osik!" Tracyn shouted when he saw Joslyn and Jag fighting. When there was no answer, Tracyn fired a shot right between them, but it still didn't stop them.

"Ahh, fierfek...." Tracyn grumbled. "Commander, can you do something about this?"

Fenn was too immersed in the battle, that he didn't answer.

"Why won't anyone answer me?!?" Tracyn growled. He would have to take things into his own hands. Tracyn went over to Joslyn and Jag, who were still fighting. Joslyn had him in a hammerlock. Tracyn tried to break up the fight, but his attempts were futile.

"Ouch!" Tracyn shouted. One of Jag's mad punches had hit him square in the jaw, and he tumbled into the line of fire, nearly getting blasted. He got back behind cover and shouted at them some more.

"What is your problem! You di'kuts almost got me killed!" Tracyn yelled furiously. Jag kicked Joslyn away, and smashed Tracyn so hard, he blacked out.

"This is between me and her." he said with rage in his voice. They continued to fight.

Ricky was a young boy. He was sitting in that severe room with his dad, on a wooden and uncomfortable chair. A lot of adults in this room. All turned towards a big fat grey-haired man holding weird objects and yelling things at the front. That big fat man had a huge mouth and his big cheeks and triple chin would shake as he'd keep yelling "Going... going... GONE!" Ricky didn't know exactly why, but it always seemed to make one of these strange people happy, while some seemed unhappy. Maybe because they didn't win?

They all looked the same to Ricky. All dressed in dark clothes, with dull colors. Uncomfortable things probably too. Big shiny shoes. Everyone was very busy. All just staring at that big fat man and his stuff. No one was paying attention to Ricky or talking to him. Not even his dad. When was his dad talking to him anyway? He was always either here, or hanging out at "The Club", gambling and drinking with the other people like him. Dad seemed to win often when he played. Ricky didnt know if he was cheating and the thought had come to him, but it wasn't wise to ask, and Ricky never did.

"When are we going back home, Daddy?" His dad turned to him with an annoyed look on his face, his eyebrows frowned. All he said was "Shhh!", but it was very clear. Ricky was better to be silent.

Ricky took a look at his dad. Grey hair, like most of the people here. A thin face, shaved in the morning but rough at this hour of day. Grey there too. His eyes had big pockets under them, and big shadows too. And on his forehead, strange things. It looked like little mushrooms, but it was on his dad's forehead. Ricky didn't know why. He didn't want to get old and get them on his forehead, because it was ugly. Dad never went to see a doctor about them, because he didn't trust doctors. Dad didn't trust anyone, not even his friends he was seeing at "The Club", and not even Ricky. Whenever something happened, Ricky was sure to be blamed. He was used to it now, that was how things were.

It was so long, so boring. That big fat man at the front, will he ever stop yelling? Ricky got here with his dad when the sun was still high in the sky, and now it was long gone and it was very dark outside. Way past bedtime for Ricky, and we're still here. It was always like that when Dad brought him here. Nanny didn't come to pick him up after school, and Dad seemed so annoyed to have to bring him along. And Ricky didn't want to go.

He never knew why his dad always wanted to be here. There was nothing here, just those people sitting at the edge of their seats, all tensed and busy and silent, and that big fat man that kept just yelling all the time. Rarely would his dad really win any of the weird objects. Sometimes maybe, a painting or two, but most of the time they would get back home with nothing, just a lost day.

"Dad, can we go home now? I need to go to freshers", Ricky said. He didn't really have to go this second, but he felt something coming. And he didn't want to be here for much longer. His dad turned to him and looked him in the eyes with a very angry look. Then silently hissed "Will you PLEASE shut up?" to Ricky. Ricky came close to tears, but he knew it would just make things worse. Ricky's dad could see that, and his face was taking some colors. "SHHHHH!", he said to Ricky, frowning even more, with hatred-filled eyes, mean eyes. Ricky had to retain his tears with all his little strenght. This was getting bad. He didn't want to get his arm broken again. Things like that happen, and they are accidents, his dad said. But Ricky knew it hadn't been an accident. He remembered it well.

"Going... going... GONE!", the big man said. The auction was going on. Ricky tried to calm down, he must not cry. He has to calm down, and not get his dad's attention. Else it will be bad. So Ricky tries to think of other things. He looks around, then looks by the windows. It had been so nice and sunny outside today. He was regretting he didn't go play.

At some point Ricky noticed some movement outside one of the windows. He wanted to get up and go see, but then dad noticed what he was trying to do. He grabbed him by an arm, and violently forced him to sit down again. "Are you going to make me miss my sale again? Are you?" Dad's voice was little more than a murmur. That's always dangerous. Ricky remembered that accident the other day and swallowed his saliva with difficulty, then said a very unloud and unclear "No, Dad, I won't."

No one was noticing what was happening, his dad was good at keeping these things silent and anyway they were all busy with their auction. At some point though, the sale stopped. Dad looked at Ricky because he was sure it was his fault again, but for once it wasn't. Something was happening outside, and the big fat man at the front was starting to look worried.

*** The little mushrooms on the dad's forehead are typical of very bad alcoholics. They are a sign that there is more alcohol than food in your system and your liver is going BAD.