Log:Wanted Alive: Lord Malik Ren

Malik squares off against many

OOC Date: August 25, 2020
Location: Nar Shaddaa
Participants: Malik Ren, Evie Leven, Hadrix Kora, Karys, Rathe Versiano, Avery Ihala Kora, Aja, Sajin, IG-84, Grom, Kirioth Kora, Sumi Kora, Clan Kora

Nar Shaddaa is full of informants and spies, a dangerous place for anyone with a galaxy full of enemies. Sources say that Malik Ren is alone in Ko Hentota's Undercity, without allies or backup -- the man's worth a million credits for anyone to take, and all the galaxy knows it. The problem, of course, is taking it, and no single man or woman or gentle being has yet managed that, if they tried.

/Safety/ in numbers might not be the best term, but the odds definitely seem better if one doesn't try this alone.

The information as to this target's present whereabouts have been sold to Clan Kora of the Mandalorians, but they were not the only recipients able to come across such an interesting little nugget of intel. It's good information, too - traversing the Undercity is notoriously difficult, but the hunters have been led to the right place.

There's a dark clad man with a red saber just -there- on what used to be a rooftop, now more like a crumbling promontory with so many other levels of decaying infrastructure above and below it. The levels are endless here, remains of what used to be the brightest and best of this moon, a hundred or a thousand years ago.

Some unlucky figure has been chopped right in half by the saber at work, and the victim wilhelm-screams down to depths unknown. Malik Ren pockets something -- whatever he came here for. But perhaps he's about to find out his business is far from finished here.

Subtlety wasn't ever a strong suit unless it was a matter of that small moment before the ambush or guerilla assault - but this was also a special circumstance for the Massive Mandalorian. Dropping down on twin pillars of argent flame from the shadows above in gold trimmed black, carbine sized terror weapon clenched in a pistol grip in one hand comes Hadrix, the other arm about the waist of, and supporting transport for, Karys whom is set down once they're on secure footing.

He's not firing. He's not charging Shouting, screaming or bellowing at the man in black with crimson blade. Of all the lessons given to him, the hardest to realize and most often held to of late is being observed; There is power in restraint, Hadrix.

He doesn't speak, though he wants to. It's not his place. He doesn't attempt reason, that is not his decision. He, as he has always done, is the Tip of The Spear. The Herald of those who come in his wake, bannerman and beast alike - the straining at his chain visible in physical twitches and even a small lurch in his posture that he quickly arrests, chokes out even with the contradiction of a long breath that sets his external vocoders to rumbling with static of its passing.

He waits for Sumi. That is his place.

The sound of a jetpack heralds the arrival of Kora's Clan Chieftain. Malik knew well the armor she wore, and its pellucid T-visor transitioned to the silver reflective exterior he had come to love (because it provided him with a glimpse of his own specious reflection and (Ugh his hair)). He may not be able to see the smaller (HA!) details from the rooftop where Sumi lands, but her T-visor has his shape within its gaze again.

Holding a Gungan boomer in hand, Sumi cautiously kneels down for a moment. <<"Everyone in position?">>

<"Lord Malik!"> Calls the hearty warrior, Sumi Kora. <"You know why I am here. Let us treat peacefully and avoid unneeded bloodshed. I understand violence to be your favorite dance, but I'd have you vituperate with the Republic with your health intact. It makes the jokes more enjoyable. What say you?">

Grom carries an impressive array of large weapons as the VERY VOCAL alien warrior blunders along through the undercity, occasionally bumping into low handing pipes, dangling light fixtures, and in one case literally bumping his head on the level above them where a passage had half collapsed. All along, the Houk appears to be explaining to his weapons (?) that, "No, you may NOT. Grom has fought with Wizards before, and duels must follow TRADITIONAL HOUK RULES- though wizards are not Houk, Grom must consider this a powerful coincidence. What was Grom saying? AH YES. Traditional Houk rules of combat: using only WITS and bare hands. It is the MOST NOBLE form of combat-" he is interrupted by the scream of some sentient who falls into the void below by a red laser sword. "Awww," Grom grumbles, disappointed. "Fine. Only SECOND most noble form of combat." A battered old vibroaxe is drawn out of his belt, where it has been tucked like a smaller being might carry a hatchet. In case any were wondering, "All other forms of combat are tied for second." Tromping forward openly like the blunt object he is, the Houk pauses as he gets near enough to recognize, "TINY WIZARD KING OF CORELLIA." He points, happily. "Your realm has expanded? Good! YOU ARE CONGRATULATED, Tiny Wizard King of Corellia and also Nar Shaddaa. Alas, Grom is the Champion of this Moon, and we must now fight. Traditional Houk rules, once again?" he offers, a blithely cheerful smile audible in the idiot's voice, as he rambles merrily on, while Sumi says the actually important things.

Arm looped around Hadrix, Karys steps down away from him, taking a few strafing steps to the side. She holds the S-F down at her side as she looks to the other two Kora as they take their places. The tension springs through her form as she calmly takes deep breaths in and out. The helmet shows nothing of emotions as the woman comes around to stand beside Hadrix other side, flanking him as the red glow of thes aber reflects off the visor of her scratched and dented helmet. A few scorch marks pattern her armor but the woman is standing despite such obvious marks won in battle. The soft whir of the power cell is lost amidst the words that are offered to the man they all face down. She is not one of those to speak, her attention on the all too familiar face with a down tick of her chin so that she can note his weapon.

Her fingers flex finally upon her weapon, trying to keep the digist limber.

Without a jetpack (a good thing, she's terrible at rocketeering), Aja instead flexes claws and uses the built-in gear to scale up the wall of the building Malik stands on. There's not really a quiet way to go about it either, but she scrambles her way up to reach what's left of the rooftop. THat T-visor hides the face, but there's no hiding the tall, pointed ears of the Farghul as she pops up over the edge and finds her footing. The vibrosword is drawn and th edge sparks as she glances towards Sumi, then Hadrix. Is she suicidal? Probably. Ballsy af? Absolutely. Offering a bit of a nod towards Malik, one can presume there's a cheeky grin behind it.

Sajin was Dumb. He was so dumb that just yesterday he got stuck behind a bar with an abvious exit. However, being an experianced mercenary meant he had his moments now and again. He could have brought the flame thrower, he could have moved into close range and used his advanced training in Melee. But, the undercity was dark. "You think the Darkness is your allie..." He says to himself, the vocorder of his helmet off for the time being . "You merely adopted the darkness. I was born in it, molded by it... and I have shadow plates..." That he did. He had found himself a nice little perch about 250 meters away overlook the roof top Malik 'Orange Archteal' Ren found himself murering Bounty Hunters on. Slowly he brought his bowcaster up and charged the cord, being very careful not to disrupt the field.

He had asked Kasia after he run in with the dark master if he wanted him to go kill Malik... she didn't give a clear answer but here he was, the King of Drik. "I am vengence... or something like that..." though he'd dsettle for mostly dead and a cut of a lot of creds....

Roth's armor is still splattered in blood from their other mission. The Alabaster Mandalorian has stuck to her quietness, the vibroblade out and ready as she gives a look around to the rest of her clanmates. Everyone decided to turn out today! This was going to be a hard mission, but, she wasn't afraid to wade into a fray or to get hurt. Bacta was a resource that she was overly familiar with. She waits for an answer...or shooting to start on the other end. She didn't have any words as she hadn't met Malik Ren. Just saw the picture and heard the stories that went with it.

Little Miss Sunshine herself has been out of the field for a while; working on other ventures. Trying to further cement her ventures. Leaning the ways of her clan. Reacclimating to life on the outside. Getting used to fighting on the ground more often, instead of just sticking to her empire; for she is the Empress of the Void, with no equal above ground (in her mind).

However, despite her normally sunny personality, Evie's much more somber today; she knows why they're here. She almost didn't come. But this wasn't her old friend Oran; this was Malik. Another Ren. Like the one who walked out on her what feels like an eternity ago. If there was any chance of getting her friend back, this? This had to be brought down.

It was also her best shot at defending her family. So she strides with an easy grace, but wordlessly. Hoping in the back of her mind that the man would take Sumi's offer; though Grom's appearance suggests that this will not be the case. The mighty Houk loved a fight like few others; the odds of no fight dropped significantly with his presence. So she was ready; her rifle held at the ready; preparing her aim rather than actually taking the shot just yet. Her blue armor was clean and polished, but unlikely to remain that way... she was just happy the helmet would hide the emotions likely to be worn all over her face, even if the rest of her body language might betray her turmoil.

After all this time there he stands, the man that Avery used to look up to, someone he would have called a friend. During the entire ride across the Galaxy, the walk across the city proper, and the whole traversal of the Undercity tunnels and turns, Avery tried to prepare himself for this... the confrontation of one of his former leaders, now completely twisted by the dark side of the force. The ex-trooper had followed the dark side as well, however in his case it had been unknowing, he'd been raised and trained to do the dirty work of a few individuals' whims.

A lot has changed since then. For example, Avery no longer follows along blindly, his eyes having been opened to the atrocities the First Order and the Sith committed. He still wears a full suit of armor, peering at the world through a 'T' slit instead of two bubbles, the color of his armor different too, but his path is for the first time his own.

How interesting then that this path would lead many of his former Vanguard squadmates and him here to confront the man he previously fought and bled for... or at least, what's left of his former friend. By all accounts his mind is twisted with the power he sought, the power given up by Kylo Ren, their former Supreme Leader. Still, while his emotions run wild, he finds himself gripping the carbine with both hands, jaw set with clenched teeth, and darkened emerald eyes narrowing to set on his target. All the things he thought, the words he prepared for this situation, everything he wanted to let Oran, rather Malik, know boiled down to this one moment, this possibly final meeting of former allies... Avery's helmet speaker comes alive with, <"You jerk!">

The collective Bounty Hunters of the Nar Shaddaa guild had plenty of contacts in the region, and there was plenty of lucrative benefits to being a rat. IG-84 wasn't exactly a suicidal droid, but rather, he wasn't so nuanced in his selection of targets. He had very limited data on Jedi beyond myths. The speeder of the Droid's had been landed nearby on a rooftop, and he had begun the slow trek towards the informant's 'hot tip' location, an overwatch just within solid range of his trusty D.D.C.'s stun bolts.

What he hadn't expected, as he walked, was a young twi'lek girl that seemed to attach herself to his hip, staring up at him with wide, yellowed eyes. She was young, and easily dwarfed by IG-84's tall frame. "Are you a protocol droid?" She asks, in her lilting Ryloth accent--Clearly she was a recent transplant. "Why did you come here? Do you know my parents?" The girl continued to ask, clinging to 84's side as he tramped forward with heavy, metallic footfalls. "They're not here--Maman says they needed to go work. She left me with Junta," the little girl says, before hoisting forward a homemade, stuffed bantha with an embroidered collar that read 'Junta'. "Junta says I'm not allowed to eat anything until dinner, but Junta only ever eats straw so I don't see how he should be the boss of me," she argues, before she resume staring up at the IG droid's metallic face. "Junta says Undercity isn't safe--You should stay close to us so you're safe," she adds, before she drops into a low stealth-walking, dramatically showing the droid how to be careful. Her voice drops, as well, as she tries to quiet. "Junt--"

The girl is cut off suddenly by IG-84's vocoded voice, drone-like and without any personality. "Warning: Unidentified Female Twi'lek Seven-Seven-Four-One, you are in an unsafe location and should seek appropriate shelter immediately. Bounty Hunter's Guild Designate IG-84 will be unable to guarantee your safety if you continue to obstruct guild endeavors in this area. Assertion: probability is high that a top level threat is in the immediate area. Organics are at great risk."

The Droid continued to clank forward, before coming to an opening that overlooked the assumed area. Visual sensors picked up a number of oreganic lifesigns, but the red-bladed lightsaber was easy to spot, even for a droid. The D.D.C. is pulled from his back with a smooth, mechanical motion of his arm, while his cyllindrical head spun to address the girl again. "Warning: high threat target confirmed. Please recall to a safer location as Bounty Hunter Guild Designate IG-84 attempts acquisition of known criminal Malik Ren."

Malik Ren is, all of a sudden, very much Not Alone.

Unmasked, his features are visible to all who know them, or remember them. Sharp, aristocratic features, brown skin, brown eyes. A tidy goatee, and his hair is longer than it was when he wore a different name. "The only surprise is that it took this long, Sumi Kora," he greets, shaking out the saber with a vwom-vwom! humming sound as though to loosen his wrist. "You know I'm obliged to decline your offer though, of course? Everyone worth knowing on Chandrila remembers what I did on Rori, and I've no intention of returning to their custody."

Someone calls him a JERK and Malik can't recognize the figure behind the mask, but he does shrug, lackadaisically. "You're the ones accosting /me/ as I mind my own business, but certainly, as you like it." He sounds exactly like Oran did, that Coruscanti accent...

GROM is shouting at him with full GROMLY CONGRATULATIONS, and although it's relatively difficult to catch Malik off guard, the Houk has certainly managed it. Both brows knit together in an expression that reads loud and clear, WHAT IN THE SEVEN HELLS, and then both brows immediately lift again as he remembers once upon a time on Corellia. "Ah. Just so," Malik dryly greets. "Small galaxy, isn't it?" The best thing to do with a Houk is definitely not kriff around and find out, though, so he steps in with a deadly swing of the blade, once and again!

"What have you brought me? Nine against one?" Malik asks Sumi, conversationally. "I like those odds."

And lo a King is struck, grievously even, but the hammer has fallen and Hadrix begins striding for the edge of the building, to get better sight of the smaller man. Because he's SO SMOL compared to The Mortal Monolith. The Terrifyingly Titanic.

Just. It's Hadrix. He's very large. He is a very big man and despite his generally, gruffly, polite demeanor he is often a source of unintended (and very often very intended) physical intimidation.

Probably not to Malik.

But you can't take the Flame Trooper out of the man, even if you take the man out of the Trooper Corps. <"Oran... I'm sorry."> the firing stud on the plasma caster is squeezed and an arch of star flare material spirals out at the Master of The Knights. Despite his best efforts the conflagration hurled forth can't help but delight him, and within the helmet, framed into the blaring contrast of his T-Visor there is a mad grin creasing his features. Manic even.

<"I was hoping for sport! HA!"> Sumi laughs, stepping back and making a gesture to attack. <"YOU HEARD HIM. LIGHT HIM THE REKK UP!">

Joining in on the sudden warzone, Sumi rears back preparing to throw her Boomer. Watching the Knight move, she's suddenly aware his skill is no spurious tale; the apotheosis of this fight had not been reached yet.

Sumi releases a throw but is off kilter and stumbles to one side, giggling. She observes her boomer splash over the rooftop. Rising back up, it's time for something different. Sumi casts her cape back and makes her way to join the melee. She'd be damned if her Mandos were going into the heat alone.

As Grom is set to first, her eyes widen beneath the reflective covering of her helmet and Karys is moving to get a clear shot. The offer was turned down and thus it means gun hot, blades out and whatever else one has. As she targets across the distance the S-5 is lifted and as flames lick down at the poor man without reprieve she follows the flow of the large boomer ball. It misses but she aims. Three shots in quick succession are shot off at him with the high whir of the power cell kicking into gear. Green bolts sear through the dark from her point of origin an dalready she is lowering and looking like she might be tending towards a different tactic when none of those lances of light make their target.

Irritation flows but as Roth engages ther eis a moments pause as she seems to letting the gliders free of her armor. <"Kora, going to be addressing wounds I believe ...in short order.">

Grom can be deceptively nimble for such a colossal creature. The Houk ducks back from the first swing of Malik's deadly lightsaber, rearing back for a moon-shattering blow of his mighty axe, only to take a gruesome blow across the thick body. A burbled grunt follows the wound, as Grom peers down at his belly, confused. Malik's dramatic flourish and turn toward the others might be only slightly diminished when the Houk- perhaps too stupid to suffer a normal death like a sensible sentient- bellows, "TEN TO ONE, STILL," dropping the axe is a violent, but erratic blow that bited deep into the ground, raising sparks from the underfoot Undergound when Malik leaps aside. "Or- *grunt* ELEVEN to one, if you *croak* if you count GROM twice." Tugging the axe loose of the ground with a screech of rending durasteel, and the ozone of scorched rust, the Houk advises Malik 'helpfully', "Your first mistake was- hurk!- was striking for the GROM GUT. Which is the -urg!- The STRONGEST PART of all Groms!"

Aja watches the first attacks, watching the Sith, his movements, following the track of his lightsaber, trying to get a measure of the man. There. The opening. Darting in after the massive swing from Grom, she tries to keep it light and fast. Enough small strikes will add up, after all. But she's misjudged. Her sword catches nothing but air and she's left in close quarters with him and Grom. Between a GROM and a Hard Case. Always a great place to be. Her tail lashes in irritation as she prepares to try and avoid that swinging beam of deadly crimson.

"This is for Kasia..."

ZIIIP!

That was the sound of the super charged bowcaster rounds zipping over head. Firing such a powerful weapon from 250 meters away could have its disadvantages.

The Crack followed about three miliseconds later, echoing through the entire undercity. It had been meant for Malik but ended up slamming into the next building over violently. "Okay... next one is for Kasia..."

He watches the others attack and Malik counter... That red saber was why he was where he was... for now. Hadrix had him on fire. "You know what... I'm not even upset, I'm impressed..." Sajin says, just as Grom gets slashed. He's watching this all through his advanced scope. "Oh hell... Oh wait... ahahaha." He's laughing, laughing that Malik turned his back to Grom thinking his Lightsaber had done the job entirely.

He adjusts his sight, perhaps his next shot would make it.

Roth's statue like in her stance as the situation turns to them going from pleasantries to confirmed bloodshed. But when Sumi says to attack, that is what she does. The alabaster banshee lets out a war cry as she goes after Malik. This wasn't personal. It was a just a thing she was assisting the clan with. Her first swing goes wide, missing, her vision a bit tunneled as the objective is closer now. She rounds though, vibroblade crackling as she manages to wing the Master of the Knights of Ren. There's no celebration at landing a hit though, she's just trying to stay focused.

Well, he heard him at least... no matter what else happens his message was received. No sooner does Malik speak his peace, and cut into the largest among them, does the world come alive. Blaster bolts, grenades, flamethrowers, and the like go hurling at Malik, a few striking him but none seeming to do much good. Avery frowns, lifts the carbine to his shoulder, and adds his blasts to the mix. Just like many of the others, and something that Malik as Oran would have been familiar with, the slicer's shots go wide, chipping away at the already destroyed roof in which his target stands. "Kriff!" Comes the curse as he hunkers down behind a bit of broken wall, steadying the blaster against the rubble for the next round of shots.

Avery remembers the ferocity and anger of Kylo and Malik seems to have none of the rage. If he does he's hiding it well. Random thoughts slip through the ex-trooper's mind.... 'Maybe Oran can be saved, maybe when we take him down he can be reasoned with and the man they knew will be returned to them.' 'And maybe nerfs will fly.' comes the near immediate counter while their adversary waves around that blood red blade of his.

The Droid offers a warning before firing, because, well. That was just the sporting thing to do when you were claiming a bounty. The cold drone-like voice of the IG unit rises considerably, belting out an alarming warning to anyone nearby. "Warning: Known fugitive Malik Ren. Surrendor yourself to Bounty Hunter's Guild designate IG-84 immediately, or lethal acquisition technique will be employed to subdue. You are not slated for elimination."

Of course, there were others in the mix now, and it was becoming dangerous to attempt an attack from his vantage point. Unknown dossiers fly through his memory before a sudden klaxon alarms in his head, as Sumi is identified as a fellow Guild-mate. Internally, as seconds tick by, the individuals are partitioned into Allies, Unknowns, Threats and Acquisitions. Malik was an Acquisition--Sumi was an Ally. The rest? Thus-far flagged as Unknowns.

The young Twi'lek slinks forward to the wall, peeking over at the battle as IG-84 centers himself and pulls the trigger on the D.D.C. rifle, sending forward a hazy blue wave of energy from the weapon, set to stun. It was a miss. He was not authorized to fire on Unknowns without first warning them--His programming didn't allow such casual violence. His voice boomed again, like a loud-speaker. "Warning: Under the mandates put forward by the intergalactic guild standard of Bounty Hunters, aiding a declared target or preventing a Bounty Hunter from acquiring a target is itself an act of aggression against the Bounty Hunter's Guild. You have been warned," the IG droid declares. It didn't seem as though they were actively seeking to help Malik, but, it was a bounty all-the-same. It belonged in their hands.

Shuttles run late, messages get missed, Rathe has escaped the medical academy. This is the way. The Kora war medic just advanced from the darkness of the undercity. Hefting the lit Flamer Rathe advances from cover, he walks with a purpose. A cadence to his stride like he's got an axe to grind. This seem to be doing the usual for the Kora... and guests. His helmet vox crackles to life <"Stow it, we're here for Sumi Kora, tin can."> Rathe advises the IG unit at its warning to them all. The visor rapidly seeks Hadrix first and then Kora, Karys, and then back to Malik as the rest of the clan start popping up on his HUD. The flamer volleys out fresh fire for Malik with no effect to which Rathe can only counter with <"Surprise!">. He'll deal with the lectures later.

Serves her right for trying to add extra directions with a low-ground attack. Evie's carefully aimed slug goes high, no where near her target. She's trying, though. She's just... an air specialist in a ground world, and fighting her emotions at that! "Oran... you should've just surrendered!" she yells out, the helmet muffling some, but not all of the emotion out of her voice.

It's on, and it starts with fire, lighting up the target with flames that leap up Malik's body, courtesy of Hadrix's flame thrower! 'You are not slated for elimination,' some droidly voice is stating. "Seems to be some rather compelling evidence to the contrary," Malik remarks, ducking and dodging blades and slugs and plasma and all manner of inconvenient weaponry coming his way!

The fire is the worst of it. The flames lick up his cloak, burning and burning! Oran would have taken the time to shed it - any sane man would take the time to get rid of that fiery cloak. But Malik Ren is perhaps not Oran, and perhaps he's not sane, either. He just smiles, one hand reaching out toward a pipe on the ground. It launches up into his grasp, and then is thrown with telekinetic force like a javelin toward Hadrix!

"Does it make it easier for all of you to imagine that Oran's name is a pejorative to me?" Malik wonders, conversationally. "Or do you hope something remains of him, even as you try to destroy it? Do you imagine it's warranted, what you do now, because you've painted him both as a lost martyr I ruined, and as someone who did you wrong? Or do you just want the money?"

He lifts the saber in preparation for a new onslaught, wincing as he controls the pain of the flames. He does pause to eye Grom. "Knowing you is certainly an exercise in wondering why you're not dead yet, isn't it?"

He remembers a turn to leap clear when the pipe lifted. Arm out to spray liquified immolation at Malik. The crunch of his pelvis cracking distracts momentarily from the thunderclap running up Hadrix's spine as he spins, creates a pinwheel of multi-hued fire that lashes out all around him, limning him in a stingwing's luminescent glow as he spirals into the rooftop and skids, twisting and coming to a halt with one leg twisted outward at the hip in a clear dislocation to compliment his rather graphic injury.

He doesn't make a sound. Shed of many things. Of an operator number. Of a name that wasn't his. Now too of granting the satisfaction of vocalizing the agony while one gauntleted hand digs fingers into the battered roof material, digging into rotten 'crete and rusted rebar.

<<"Medic.">> rasped over comms while his entire body shakes under adrenaline and all of the other chemicals the body dumps into the bloodstream when under extreme trauma. Head lowering next, brow to the ground beneath him. <"I love you, brother.">

But can he be heard? Or does his betrayal drown out the words?

Karys is already moving, watching that heavy hit taken by Grom she digs in her heels and with a crunch crunch crunch she leaps, throwing herself out over the expanse between the two buildings. She hangs in the air like that a moment knowing the risk that it involves before the gliders catch her and pull her up to glide towards the lower roof where Malik stands with those who are engaging him face to face. Its eerily beautiful and yet the tension is climbing up her back and the tension does not make for the smoothest of landings.

She touches down on the lower rooftop with their target and turns, knowing that those within reach of him are presented with the greatest danger and she keeps her gun in hand as her left lowers down to begin pulling items free of her medkit.

She can hear Hadrix call for a medic a little too late but Rathe remains thus bringing the gunslinger into the moment where she needs to address the rather large Houk.

"Stand down...I need to heal you." she offers him, but she's waiting for the moment Malik is not likely to eviscerate her during her attempt.

The Sonn-Blas Z6 Riot control baton ignites with a furious roar of angry electricity. Twisting the weapon into an extended attack position, the baton resembles a police baton/mace with serrated edges and sparking electricity. The caped warrior makes her way down the stairs of the building she was on the rooftop of, temperarily out of view to make her way to the level the others are. This was VERY Sumi, because she did not trust her jetpack to do as it was supposed to. Learning has occurred!

"Grom has heard as much," the Houk agrees with Malik, nodding in sympathy. He has the manner of one who doesn't quite know what the words mean, but he has heard them often enough, anyway. Shrug. "THE MIGHTY GROM IS- erk! ahem- IS UPON YOU, TINY WIZARD KING." The second blow misses badly. Perhaps announcing his attack in advance was counterproductive. The Houk staggers about with the momentum of his missed swing, like a drunken wampa. Regaining his balance only to find himself facing the wrong way and peering around. "Where is Tiny Wizard of the Large Words?" Instead he finds a Mandalorian medic. "Grom cannot stand down, Grom's stature is TOO MIGHTY. Grom can- erg- only SIT down. EXPLAIN YOUR REQUEST."

Never one to balk at a challenge, Aja darts in again, slashing at Malik. Or rather, the air around Malik. He always manages to be not where her blade is! Shifting her weight and sidestepping she tries again only to be predicted once more in her movements. Letting out a frustrated grumble under her helm that crackels through as a brief burst of static, she falls back to take up the defensive stance for his counter attack... if it comes her way. Grom has her attention for a moment, then Hadrix as a pipe spears towards, and into, him. Attention back to Malik as she's moving even more warily.

There was no grandstanding from Sajin, he was far too far away to be heard anyways. He conducted himself quietly even when he fought closely. The battle had picked up and he was concentrating a lot more. Hadrix got the toss. He needed to get this right. The adjustments on his sight were now complete.

"This one is for Kasia..." Sajin takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He focuses on his heart beat. That milisecond point between the double beats. Time stops, sounds stops... and the dumb hapan squeezes the trigger.

ZPPPPPPT!

That time the bolt hit, and it hit hard even for a Dark Lord like Malik Ren. It might have smolder, flashed, and added to the fire from the flame thrower. It might have gone through and through. It was hard to tell in the dark.

He WAS the Darkness.

Did Malik even know it was him, where that round had come from? Sajin hadn't made his presence known. Perhaps cowerdly to some, tactical to others. The team knew where he was and what he was doing.

Malik's mortal enemy was aparently 'just a janitor' after all.

"Droid please!" Roth sighs out about the IG unit as she's trying to figure out where hits are going and trying not to get hit by flames and other things. Like a lightsaber. She wasn't a bounty hunter, so, she didn't really know the guilds rules. She is mid swing when Malik goes down and there's a look around, a wary crease of her brows behind the helm. Were they about to be riddled with stormtroopers, other force users or something like that? She takes a defensive stance now, waiting to see if they are suddenly swarmed by something else.

<"You betrayed us! You used us and cast us away!"> Avery calls through his headset as he lifts his weapon to take aim at Malik once again. His anger threatens to overwhelm him as his finger closes on the trigger, his hands shaking from the barely contained rage that bubbles at the surface. Fortunately, at least in this case, he doesn't have to fire, a blinding red bolt from Sajin struck Malik hard to send the Sith down. Instead, Avery stands, glancing over at the result of the action and the wounds his team have taken. <<"We... we got him....">> he states, relief and regret mixed in the voice that comes over the comms.

Rathe's comments do not go unnoticed, but, Trained Killer droids were slightly more interested in objectives than Pride. All the same, a big fat 'Threat' was assigned to him.

The combined forces are able to overcome the criminal quickly, and Malik falls amidst an onslaught of fire and melee attacks. Internally, the Speeder is summoned by IG-84 as he steps forward to the edge of the ledge. "Return to your domicile, Unidentified Twi'lek Female Seven-Seven-Four-One. Trust Junta and await your dinner," IG-84 declares. The cherry-red open-seat speeder rises and slips forward, allowing IG-84 to step into it. The cherry-red speeder pulls forward as IG-84 settles into it, as it rushes forward towards the body of Malik Ren and, presumably, where Sumi would emerge. Meanwhile, messages were already being prepared and filed. In case anyone decided to interfere with the Guild.

<"Always did love the sound of your own voice.>" Rathe grumbles as Malik pontificates. He's preparing for another advance, sometimes not the brightest cookie in the drawer. Priorities suddenly shift, the pipe rises. Before Rathe could even shift his visors focus or blink, Hadrix is slammed into. The First Order made him a damn good War Medic, immediate mental assessment. 'That looks bad' with an underline under the last word. <"HADRIX!"> He will not recall crying that name out later, and will never admit to it. The Flamer is slung as he switches priorties to run for Hadrix. No snark, no usual smartassery, he just moves fast.

As he slides to one armored knee to slow to a halt by Hadrix. Karys leaps for the other roof, and that memory too will be crystalized in slow motion of memory. Sumi's riot baton coming to life as she dissapears down stairs is the next screenshot of his mind. Aja trying to strike a never-there foe. He never sees who fires the bowcaster bolt. But his mental screenshot will be where Malik's saber nearly caressed it away, and it starts to penetrate his body. Hadrix fills his visor.

<"I got you brother!">, a grudge forgotten in a frozen moment of time. Rathe turns the man, blindly working with his right hand by sheer instinct and training, his left is dealing with peeling the armor back enough to stabalize that pipe firmly in place. <"Be pissed later."> Rathe gives Hadrix his only warning, as he administers what he's jokingly called The Hadrix mis with his hupo-spray. It is dropped and his auto-injector comes up next. Stabilizers, antibiotics, and a narcotic blend ensures Hadrix will see firm darkness and have no dreams for a while. He needs an immobile patient. <<"Did he put his damn grav belt on this new armor yet? Anyone?">> He's already moving to strip his own away... for Hadrix is a large armored mammal.

The door containing Sumi within the adjacent building opens and out steps Sumi. She'd missed the final action, but just the same, the mission was complete. She stows her baton mid-walk, and gestures. <"Get our wounded taken care of, and set up a perimeter!">

When Sumi reaches Malik, she restrains him using cuffs, not concerned with his wounds because he likes pain. (We know it to be true.)

<<"Lady Fae, bring the Kyber Heart around.. and get on the horn with the Jedi or the New Republic..">>

Hoisting up the small Master of the Knights of Ren, Sumi carried him onto a YT-2550 ship that lowers into view. Up the ramp! And gone!

NO TIME TO WASTE!