2012.11.24 "That was strangely satisfying."

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"That was strangely satisfying."

I survey the carnage and nod in agreement. A tightbeam ping to the bartender alerts her that I know where she's hiding, and that I'm thirsty. I copy the Orbodun on my message vector, so that he doesn't assassinate the bartender when she emerges with beverages. Because the big fella has a bit of a hair trigger at the moment.

The orbodun stalks back from the corner where he chased the last combatant down. "Are you sure we should hang out for drinks? This went a little over-the-top; maybe we should make ourselves scarce." I find myself more impressed with his predatory demeanour than his discerning rationale.

"I'm thirsty." A shrug and a toothy apologetic smile complete my excuse.

He wrinkles his nose. "I'm in no shape to confront any more exciting individuals who might be drawn by the ruckus. And we can get drinks anywhere."

"I don't know... there's something ineffable about savouring a drink in the favourite bar of and enemy that deserved to die."

For a brief satisfying moment, the Orbodun is speachless. Possibly reveling in the glory of it. Though, considering his horrified expression, perhaps not. "That Crocaloid had a lot of backup pouring in, and there might be more still coming."

"No, probably not." I twitch an ear in the direction of the bartender. The Orbodun and I exchange looks and turn our beady eyes to look at the Zygroten. "Every significant goon that Chrack had on payroll, plus every local freelancer that didn't hate his guts already came through that door. There's literally nobody left. Except maybe for those that might buy you drinks for ending him."

My Orbodun companion lets his robotic harness gather up his scary rifle into a less-threatening attitude, possibly responding to the visual cues that she's pretty frightened. Wide eyes, flared nostrils, rippling tremors, and poofy fur all tell us how frightened she is. But something is not right. I continue to watch her carefully as she brings over two beers, but the Orbodun bows his head in thanks. "All right then, I guess a drink to savour the moment makes sense. He must have really been an asshole."

"He really was." She doesn't back away like I'd expect, either.

WHA?! Before I can tightbeam the Orbodun I find myself springing backwards all-defensive out of pure reflex. Memory neurons flash a sight of the Zygroten's supple arms moving impossibly fast, turning into nightmare blades that almost took out my throat. The Orbodun expression if fixed into one of dumb surprise at the sudden breach of his skull.

ZARK! A blink later and I'm twisting-diving again all-defensive. The Orbodun hasn't even started to fall over yet and somehow the ex-Zygroten thing is on the other side of me trying to lop off my head. And it titters.

My old blaster and force blade make their appearance in my clutched talons; I swing the weightless blade in a lethal arc but it meets only the air where it used to be.

WOW. So freakishly powerful. I manage to all-defensive parry the edge of the blades but the force of the strike sends me tumbling through the air. I twist and cling to the wall where I hit with the grip pads on my feet, and snap a scorching blast at it. Again, scoring nothing. This really isn't working. More robotic patches auto-deploy on the Orbodun, but I think he's going to stay down for a while. Shit.

Can't hit it if I go all-defensive. So when it rushes over to me and tries to stab me, I only go partially-defensive. Ouch. It feels like a mistake, when the the blades flash past my parry and stab me in the ribs. With my remaining modicum of focus, I take my swing. And miss. But it's closer. It feels like a possible thing...

OUCH. Another 3-die parry fails me, and more blades find my abdomen. And bounce me off the ceiling. I'm getting used up awfully fast, here. Out of reach of my sword, I use the 1-die attack with my blaster. And miss. At least my robotic patches are deploying to help out.

I resist the urge to go all-four-defensive, because to do so is to just take the maximum amount of time to die. I want to at least leave a mark before I'm done.

Again it rushes close, but this time my partially-defensive parry is enough avoid harm. It too-easily parries my usually-deadly thrust, and titters. And I can see the mockery etched in its not-Zygroten eyes.

It goes all-aggressive. This is going to hurt: I go partially-defensive. Its blade slices me from hip to shoulder, but I'm not down. I reply with a savage swing of my force blade.

And hit it in the shin.

WHAT? Somehow I managed to achieve severance, and cleaved off its foot and ankle. And then the foot sprang away with hypernormal speed.

An instant after the severed foot caromed out the door, the rest of the not-Zygroten flashed after it. Leaving us alone among the corpses.

I slink over to the Orbodun, ordering extra patches to deploy on myself. He flashes awake a couple turn later thanks to his own last wave of patches. "WHAT?"

"We should leave."

He jumps up, and has his rifle gripped purposefully. Protectively. "The bartender was an assassin?!"

"Something. I'm not sure. Let's get away from here before it comes back and we find out for sure."

A nod, and reassuringly-rapid progress towards the exit. "Do you think that was...?"

"A Missionary? Maybe."

"Well, fuck."

"Yeah."