No One Liners
Join Date: Dec 2005
Location: Scotland, UK
Current Game: SWOTR
((OOC: That's ok, Rob. We've all sort of let this one stagnate much too long. :s Having said that... let's see if we can at least finish it between the rest of us.))
The ruckus that Brax was making about Jasra being ill finally paid off. Although, still covered completely in black, two of Vros’ Revan-cloned guards approached Jasra’s cell.
Jasra was really trying hard to convince them she was indeed ill. She choked and gasped, her hands up near her neck as she writhed on the floor of the small cage surrounded by its force field.
There seemed to be some sort of silent ‘discussion’ between the two clones, although they uttered not a single word, merely looked at each other pointedly. Then, in silent agreement with one another, they deactivated the force field from the nearby control panel.
The force field was hardly down before Jasra made her move. Force assisted or not, she was still physically fit and quick from her Jedi training in this timeline--and ruthless from her time spent in the previous one. In an instant, she had grabbed hold of one of the stun batons on the first guard’s belt, and used it against his companion standing next to him.
The guard spasmed and collaspsed, but the other guard was making for the control panel on the side of the wall—probably intent on activating Brax’s torture field or setting off an alarm.
“Oh, no you don’t!” Jasra twisted the switch for the stun baton on high, and then threw it at the control panel. Her aim was dead on. The panel shorted out, sparks showering out from it in all directions. Now she stood to confront the lone guard.
It had been a while since she had to fight someone hand to hand in a real match, not a sparring match. She struck out first, with a single jab to the guard’s throat. But the fight wasn’t over yet. He stumbled, but quickly recovered, retaliating with a sweeping kick that Jasra wasn’t expecting.
Her legs knocked from under her, she fell to the floor in a heap, scrambling quickly backwards to avoid the clone’s next attack. Jasra was actually rather shocked at how much she actually relied on using the Force without knowing it. Anticipating moves, reaction times, the strength of her punches—for most of these skills she relied on the Force. Now that it was gone….
She didn’t avoid the clone’s next attack as his heavy boot connected with her chin. She rolled away with the force of the impact, and tried to scramble to her feet, only to have them kicked from underneath her once again. Dazed, she felt the clone’s hand grab the back of her neck and pull her to her knees, facing away from him.
Knowing that she was outmatched in strength, she did the only other advantage she had. With as much strength as she could muster, she elbowed him sharply in the groin.
There was a slight, muffled gasp, and then the grip around her neck loosened.
Jasra grinned. “Good for me that Vros made you an anatomically correct clone,” she gloated. She extricated herself from his grip, standing and then delivering a roundhouse kick to the side of the clone’s head and neck. The clone went down, unconscious.
Jasra dusted off her hands, then looked at Brax.
“Well done,” he said to her, grinning. “Now get me out of here.”
Jasra smiled back at him. “With pleasure.” She went over to the control panel, then paused. “Erm….” The panel was still smoking from its encounter with the overcharged stun baton. She cringed. “I think I broke it.”
She looked up at the Ysalamiri that were suspended directly above the cages. She went over to the first guard she had stunned, and took his stun baton. “But I think you might be able to get out yourself, love, if I take care of one…small… furry… problem.” She switched on the baton.
Veni, Vidi, Velcro. (I came, I saw, I stuck around)