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| - The Sandbar: Caspar A large, comfortable room creates the main part of Plaxton City's infamous Sandbar, survivor of no less than three rounds of destruction, once more back on its feet. Refurbished to much the same state it had enjoyed prior to the invasion of Caspar at Imperial hands, the place boasts dark wood panelling on its walls, and myriad booths and tables of occasionally battered but sturdy lighter wood, and a number of both old and brand new holoposters hung here and there on the walls. Several deep blue glass windows allow light in from outside, while keeping the ambient light level fairly low. The marble bar that survived the recent war still remains, more battered than before, but once again serving as the domain of Ariani; the loft, too, has been restored, providing yet more seating and an excellent view of the low stage towards the back of the room, where the local band called the Womprats play each night. It is late afternoon in Plaxton City, thick gray clouds obscure the sun over head and a cool breeze casts drying leaves along the walkways and into the nooks and crannies of the doorways along south Mergansar avenue. With her hands tucked into the sleeves of her uniform jacket, and seriously contemplating breaking down and buying some sort of winter gear for the upcoming and impending seasonal insanities, Lynae spots the entrance to the Sandbar and decides that the lights look warm and beckoning in lieu of the storm approaching and heads inside. (speaking in Basic) Having reduced his visit to a mere pleasantry, the former Grand Moff decides to drop in on the famous Sandbar where he once started his career as a lowly agent. In many aspects, he considers this city to be his home, for he spent many years here developing his contacts. It's a good thing that the management of the establishment had changed hands, for he's had many a firefight within the sandbar, some of which were a notorious note. The doors swiftly open as the hooded figure enters just like any other patron. He finds his way over to a nearby booth, removing his hood in defiance of where he was, and orders a corellian ale from the passing waitress. Surely, he wouldn't run into trouble in the sandbar, if anyone recognized him there. Pressing one hand against the door, Lynae pushes it open and steps into the bar itself, the cool wind swirling into the room along with her, an errant leaf tucked up in the breeze and skittering across the floor before the door closes behind her. With a shiver she rub her hands along her arms to try to chase away the chill then nods towards the barkeep in greeting before sending a quick glance around the room. The Sandbar, as one of the most popular establishments in the city, is by no means an empty cavernous hall. Often crowded and usually full of regular customers and of the general 'hail fellow - well met!' attitude Lynae usually finds this place to be a great deal more .. boisterous than she's comfortable with. But her people indicated that Scaven was seen in this area, though they couldn't pinpoint him precisely (for what ever reason) Lynae reasoned she'd start here, while warming up. (speaking in Basic) Typical for the Duros, Ruen is still dressed in her CDU flightsuit, despite her off-duty status. Apparently, she's either too lazy to change or she simply prefers the warmth her suit provides on such a breezy day. Her frame is parked loosely on a bar stool, a half-full cup of some sort lying semi-neglected on the marble surface in front of her as she watches the various people come and ago. Although it's often too crowded in the Sandbar to discern friendly faces, Ruen's red eyes immediately pick out Lynae - officers do tend to stick out in a place that's largely full of non-descript people. Letting her thin lips relapse into a polite smile, Ruen raises a hand to wave at the woman. The Sandbar is somewhere Kyrin has been recently introduced to. The winged woman finds herself brought back by Caspar's favorable winds, and when she finds the urge to feed and water herself, she alights on the pavement in front and walks inside like the humans. The civilian robes she's wearing might indicate she's off-duty, or she simply might be trying to be a bit less obvious as to her affiliation as she passes within the establishment's doors and begins hunting for a place to sit and something to drink to start the evening. The blue Chyleni furls her wings as she pads toward a small empty table, casually looking around. Scaven enjoyed the weather of Caspar this time of year. After his time spent ressurecting the desolate Selene in chilling temperatures, this was favorable conditions. The waitress brings his usual ale as he sits quietly to himself, forgetting for the first time who he was and how he fit into the galaxy. He was now in enemy territory. Of course, pretty much anywhere he went was enemy territory these days. It was the only regret he had from being Grand Moff and the infamy of Mutanda genocide. He didn't like being noticed, and here he figured he wouldn't be amongst the alien cabaret of patrons there to wet their gully. While Scaven might not easily be noticed in all or many circles here on Caspar, Lynae has a bit of an edge on this. She knows him, first by reputation and security dossier, but also from having met and conversed with the man just a few days prior. She spots him in the room and starts for his location at a slow pace, making certain to keep her hands open and at her sides, doing that deliberately to ensure that the potential for misunderstanding is radically reduced each step of the way. "May I buy you a drink?" she asks quietly upon arrival, standing to the side slightly so as to not block his view of the room. (speaking in Basic) Ruen's thin shoulderblades slump into a nonchalant shrug - expecting someone to notice you in such a crowd is unrealistic, afterall - although she occasionally returns her gaze back in the direction of the officer and Scaven, if only to sate her curiosity and boredom. Concentrated mostly upon her drink, Ruen does catch wind of Kyrin in between idle sips. Kyrin's wings, in particular, seem to draw the Duros' interest. Kyrin seems to get that a lot, people looking at her wings, so the Chyleni makes no official notice that anything about her attracted any unusual notice. However, as she's about to seat herself, she spies a rather familiar face amongst the crowd, and one wing fans itself slightly in time with a half-nod in Lynae's direction. Then, Kyrin orders herself a human favorite fizzy drink, sadly non-alcoholic, and something from the menu that won't harden her arteries. Much. Her gaze falls on Scaven briefly and also on Ruen, but the latter is more curiously viewed than the former. A uniform is a uniform is a... ooh, pilot? As Lynae approaches, she doesn't go unnoticed. Scaven keeps an eye out, his field of view darting across the room to try and pick up on any kind of ambush that may be awaiting. Afterall, their last conversation yeilded somewhat of a edgy feel to his presence here on Caspar. He still knows how bloodthirsty Kizuka is over him, which made this planet unwelcoming. At least he could take comfort in knowing that the NR wasn't about. Many enemies... "Certainly, Doctor" he replies as his gaze finds it's way back to the young woman. "From the way you approached, am I to assume you're not here to.....arrest me?" he questions, a slight cynical grin crossing his lips ever-so-lightly. The cynical smile on Scaven's face is slowly matched by the gleam in Lynae's eyes and the faint trace of a smile that curves her lips ever so slightly upwards. She remains standing for a moment though she signals for the barkeep to send over another round, holding up a credit chit to indicate that she'll be paying for the drinks. Seating herself with another sweeping glance around the room, the glance enough to note where people are, where the exits are, and the presence of Kyrin and Ruen. Both are carefully noted in her mind, just in case, of course. "On the contrary," she says, resting her hands on the table - again, empty hands, making a point of that repeatedly - "my orders were to follow you, apprehend you, and arrest you if possible. The admirals express desire, can best be described in his own words," she pauses, changes her tone and inflection and quotes, "If he IS still on planet, he is to be picked up immediately. Arrested if possible, but I'll shed no tears if he gets killed apart from not being the killer myself." " (speaking in Basic) By the way Ruen's drink fizzles and froths, there's no way she's drinking a non-alcholic beverage. It's a wonder the scrawny alien hasn't passed out yet, and she's apparently still sober enough to realize that staring is not polite, after quickly removing her eyes from the Chyleni's wings. When Kyrin approaches the bar to order, Ruen gently inclines her head at the newcomer, one hand raising to offer her a nearby seat should she want company. "Hello, ma'am," She murmurs in Kyrin's direction. Of course, it's too loud in here for Ruen to discern what Scaven and Lynae are speaking about, although it's very likely the Sandbar is about to find out quite soon. Kyrin offers up a smile as she perches on the seat near Ruen. "Greetings," she replies cordially as she samples the drink she's been given, tilting her head in a slight nod of approval as she waits patiently for her chosen meal to arrive, the tip of her tail flicking back and forth idly, much like a metronome. Her gaze keeps perhaps an eye and a half on the Scaven/Lynae sector of space, but she's not about to pass up company, since talking to the locals is what Leia said to do. "I am Kyrin Sh'vani," she introduces. "It is a pleasure to meet you." "It would appear that Camerath just can't let some things go... I mean, that business with his wife.." he chuckles slightly, "...that was so long ago" He takes a drink from the clear thick liquid wreaking of alcohol before glancing down at the seat across from him in the booth. "So... You're here to arrest me huh? Interesting concept.. I'll have to give it to ya though, it's a bold move to say the least." He keeps his hands loosely wrapped around the glass, twirling the liquid within slightly. His eyes were of a favorable color, a very light gray.... for the moment. "Bold is one of my best traits, I suppose," Lynae replies, inclining her head slightly towards Scaven in a nod, accepting the compliment even if it wasn't entirely intended to be one. "The Admiral's chief desire also seems to be that you die in some messy way, if not by his hands than by someone's. You see, there's a bit of a conundrum with this situation," she says in a quiet and conversational tone of voice. "The Admiral gave me an order. As a Caspian Naval officer I am bound to obey the orders given by a ranking officer, and he clearly outranks me. Now," she glances up as her drink arrives, nods to the waiter then turns her attention back to Scaven, "the question is whether or not the order of a Naval officer, of any rank, can be carried out in a non-military situation. You are not, to my knowledge, standing on the bridge of a ship of any sort assaulting the property of the Caspian navy or any asset, property or person in Caspian territory. So, you see the problem, yes?" she asks before curling one hand around the glass she received and taking a small sip from it's contents. "Is it an illegal order or no? You and I both know that, from our collective training, we don't usually question orders given, now do we? Oh you've been on your own a lot longer than I have. But there's the instinct, yes? Live but to serve, to hear is to obey, some things are still... instinct." She smiles briefly, the brief curve of her lips not quite matching the look in her eyes, "You, however, are quite willing - nay, eager almost? - to say what you've done. You see no reason to hide the truth. I admire that sort of thing, as I have a measure of myself. I know you, Scaven Marx, and my best guess would be that you wouldn't go willingly or in any guise of docility." (speaking in Basic) "A pleasure to meet you, Kyrin," The Duros bows deeply, "My name's Ruen. I, uh, apoligize for staring at you before. Your wings are quite attention-grabbing." Ruen speaks as delicately as she can muster, all the while allowing her lips to drift into an apologetic smile. Like the Chyleni, however, Ruen also has at least half of her attention diverted towards Lynae and Scaven. Although nothing seems out of the ordinary - yet - a subconscious impulse sends one of Ruen's hands drifting towards the end of the rifle clipped at her waist. "I am used to the attention," Kyrin replies kindly, a subtle gesture with one three-fingered hand to the bartender indicating the next round for the Duros is on the Chyleni, no declining permitted. "If they start shooting," she adds in a slightly lower tone, "we can leap over the bar together. One must ensure the alcohol is suitably protected." With that mild comment tendered, she resumes the previous course of conversation. "I am from Chylene. We are all like this there. You are... from Duros, if I am not mistaken?" Her formally-phrased Basic seems gently accented, clearly not her first language. "You know, I never figured you for the....police type, doctor.. It almost seems beneath a woman of your caliber. Then again, so is the likes of Camerath." He takes another drink from his glass, his eyes fixed on her every movement. He has yet to ever successfully be arrested, and this wasn't the time to change things. "But you are right in that aspect. The personal agression of Kizuka is nothing to match the legal laws of your CDU. But then, you already know that don't you?" he questions off-handidly. Of course, the CDU had many reasons to arrest Scaven for past atrocities within it's own borders, but he was certain that Kizuka probably failed to mention any of those in light of his own vengance. "So what now, Doctor. Are we to cordially drink our drinks in peace, and you decide to return with no word of my whereabouts? Or are we to dance?" he questions, his eyes darkening slightly. Attention, what's that? Oh, right, it's that thing he's been told to stay far away from for...well, let's just say for a long time. And even though he wears an uniform, the trenchcoat he has on is more than enough to make up for it with the end result being that he is quite able to blend into the crowds outside. Inside the Sandbar, it is another matter, the confined space making it particularly likely that at least one person will notice him, but that's no longer much of a problem. A look around, and he heads towards the group that he recognizes first. Lynae takes another measured sip from her drink while studying Scaven across the table, offering a slowly measured nod in reply to his remarks. "Though, to note, the preference of the Admiral goes hand in hand with some other data I've managed to scrounge up in regards to your activities in the area over the past few years." She exhales softly then, leaning back a bit in her seat, "Do we dance," she repeats, "or do I let you walk? Do I enjoy the drink in hand and the company of one of the few individuals alive in this universe with whom I have an understanding - of sorts?" she asks, both are rhetorical questions in their own ways. "Let me ask you a question first, if you don't mind? On Mutanda, what sparked your decision to start exterminating the local populace?" (speaking in Basic) It's a good thing Kyrin does it swiftly, too, or else Ruen would been forced to assert her own credit chip. "Thank you, ma'am," The Duros smiles faintly, in a slightly resigned manner, although she abruptly switches to seriousness the moment potential conflict is mentioned. "Of course. I'm ready to go, should anything out of the ordinary occur," Ruen murmurs back, gesturing a lone finger towards Lynae and Scaven, "I have never heard of Chylene before, although you are partially righ-" Fueled by surprise, Ruen's sentence drops off midway when Shael abruptly enters the picture. "Ah, hello again, Shael. I had a feeling we would run into each other again. We still need to make room for our rematch." "Not many have heard of it, much less visited," Kyrin affirms as Shael comes bounding up to them. "Hello, Shael. Have you met Ruen yet?" she queries, gesturing to the Duros with her. A brief flick of her left wing, the Chyleni equivalent of a shoulder-touch amongst humans, is given to Ms. Winters. "We are discussing jumping behind the bar if Doctor Cassius is involved in a fight and how remote my home planet is. Please join us in protecting the booze. An honorable profession, I am told." The mere mention of Mutanda brings fond memories back. Scaven still carries that same sword he used to personally rid the galaxy of more then a hundred of the foul beasts. "Horansi are uncivilized creatures. They abandoned progress for their petty quarrels and fighting amongst themselves. It was my job to restore order to Mutanda, and to simply put it, only one small faction offered to allie with the CSA for their help in getting rid of the rest." He did what he thought was necissary, that and he just didn't like Horansi. His Horansi leather overcoat spoke to that very point. He smiles slightly, "Of course, I could tell you that by exterminating a few hundred thousand horansi in the end saved millions. But who will ever know." Lynae and Scaven briefly. She makes no comment on the subject of protecting booze. Given her choice, she'd pour it out herself. Instead, she turns her attention towards Kyrin's introduction of Ruen. "Ruen here? She whipped me soundly in a swoop race. She's an incredible pilot, you should see her fly." Looking towards Ruen again she gives the Duros woman a broad smile. "If you care to meet me on the track here, I'd be happy to go up against you. I even have the Outlaw with me, my G1 swoop." "Fizzyglug.", he requests once the barkeep comes near, ignoring the look he is given by the man, Rasi moves over to the side of the bar that holds at least two familiar persons. "Miss, Colonel.", Rasi says when he nears the trio, greeting them first with a quick nod to the three. And he looks back at the barkeep, wondering how that order is coming while the trio answer. Lynae reads Scaven's smile for what it is, a gesture that doesn't match the words, but something that goes with the words since - and she's guessing of course - that he's had to defend or discuss this many times before to people who just don't quite get it. "Of course. After all, the only good enemy is a dead one," she agrees with a slight nod of her head. "I once said that the only way to win the war was to kill every single one of the enemy combatants," she replies, "if there's no one to fight with then there's no reason to fight at all, yes?" She drinks again from her glass before continuing, "Now, mind you, when it comes to planets I've always had a preference. First," and she enumerates each step with an uplifted fingertip, "launch a tailored pathogen that takes out all large game animals and land based life forms over a certain target weight. Second," again the brief movement of her hands, "round up all the deceased and dispose of the bodies in the most efficient manner possible - I suggest stacking them in a large freighter convoy and sending them all to burn in the nearest solar body. Third, round up all the remaining population - children at this point - and send them to formal re-education then have them adopted by loyal families and those that aren't adopted can go straight into military academy - guaranteeing one entire generation of loyal subjects. Fourth, well you've got a planet now don't you? Strip mine it for it's natural resources then turn the planet into rubble and create your very own asteroid belt." With that so nicely enumerated, and logically set forth to Lynae's way of thinking, Lynae glances down briefly at the chrono on her wrist, "And it doesn't take all that terribly long either." (speaking in Basic) "Hmm. It must be awfully strange for a Duros to not be a walking encyclopedia on planets and systems," ponders Ruen, in a nod to her species' reputation. She continues to smile politely at the two other women, although the mention of the swoop race causes the Duros to dip her head down out of humility, "Thank you, although it was a very close match. Your skill are not to be belittled, Miss Shael. With any luck, we'll be able to head out to the track after this rather large and unwieldy mess is sorted out." Of course, she refers to the escalating conflict between Lynae and Scaven. When Rasi appears near the three, Ruen shoots him a polite smile and a murmured 'Hello', allowing herself to switch into passive spectator mode for now. See, HM743's own take on how to properly handle a planet is vastly different than that of Lynae. Different in almost every detail, really. But it is seldom asked its opinion about suc things, and has been asked nicely by a friendly security officer if he'd please come in to a place called The Sandbar, and lend a hand or four. Always of a helpful and friendly nature, the droid of course complied, and is stepping in just now, with a pair of security officers behind it. Scaven was finding this female more and more attractive on her professional political views alone. "No." he retorts, "Most of what you said is cost inefficient. Against a rebellious primative race such as the Horansi, exterminating them with planetary bombardments is most efficient, cleaning up all ages with face to face blasterfire works.. But, simply pile the bodies and burn them will save you a load of money and time." he finishes his ale, motioning to the waitress to bring another. "Now, if you wish to subdue a more civilized and capable population, a pathogen would be most useful. Not only could you take care of your enemy, but you could make use of the panic it creates." Kyrin smiles at the mention of swoop racing yet again. "I was not aware that you were acquainted," she remarks to Shael with a self-deprecating shrug of the shoulders that carries up to her wings. "Commander," she greets Rasi when he joins their little girls' club, since he chose to use her rank in public. "Do join us, for you are paying for the next round of drinks." Lovely thing she can be. And she's still subtly monitoring the Scaven/Lynae conversation, just in case. "I do believe we may have to consider opening a book as to whether they start shooting or get on the table and go at it like I have heard Marines prefer." She is apparently not above making jokes about deadly people in the corner, since she's surrounded by friends or non-enemies at the bar. "Did you get an earful too?" Shael asks Rasi brightly, refering to the conversation she had had with Leia after returning to the Embassy that morning. It had actually not been as bad as she had expected... But then she didn't consider herself quite as culpable as Rasi had been. Shael continues to lean up against the bar, not ordering anything for herself, and letting her gaze wander towards Lynae and her companion from time to time. She eyes Scaven's coat with a frown creasing the corner of her lips, though she refrains from commenting. Largely through sheer effort of self-control. "They start shooting, I may just help," Shael mutters quietly, a shiver running down her spine as she finally pulls her eyes away from the man's coat. Lynae's attention moves towards the door briefly, the bit of cool air that swept through the room as the door opened again does catch her attention along with the arrivals that come through the door. "Well now, it all depends," she says as she turns back towards Scaven, "on what you would consider cost inefficient. In the long run my method ensures an entire generation of loyalist and soldiers, who then - if properly paired - breed another generation that does the same. So the long term benefits are actually quite efficient and effective. Plus, while your method does have an impact on the social psyche, my method does not require big pyres of burning bodies to muck up the atmosphere. I do hate the smell of burning hair, don't you?" she ask, her nose wrinkling briefly at the notion, "It's just not tidy enough for my tastes. And.. you have to decide on a hard number when it comes to population size. What's a manageable size?" she asks, shaking her head slightly, "So many questions. We're relics, Scaven Marx, we fight war in a way that's just not 'allowed' anymore. And please do keep your hands where I can see them," she asks in a tone of conveyed regret, "I really do hate to do this. But, on the up side, we'll be able to continue this conversation," and she lifts her left hand to signal HM743, the accompany security officers and - through them - the rest of the team waiting for this cue. (speaking in Basic) "No.", he replies to Shael with a slight frown, "We do not 'get' earfuls. Only warnings or official reprimands." Civilians, pfft, don't they have any concept of how a proper chewing out should be conducted. The uniformed man turns to Kyrin, a brow raised as his money is so liberally thrown around like that, but one supposes superiors have that privilege. "Of course, M'am. Whatever the ladies desire, it is on me.", he'll just end up writing it off as a business expense and end up making twice what he spent. Ah the pleasures of bureaucracy. When the two at the booth are mentionned, Rasi turns in their direction the length of time it takes to get a good appraisal of the situation. "The Doctor is notoriously...well, let's just say I find that unlikely." The droid steps up to Lynae's side, four legs striding up neatly, almost marching, if such an arrangement of limbs can really be used in that way. The officers move up to either side of it, awaiting the doctor's word. The droid as well remains fairly quiet, displays of eloquence lead to people thinkign of droids as people, and as such, thinking they will behave as people do. A more stoid, less personaly display, now, that places the droid in the realm of the unknown factor, and carries more weight in the reasoning processes of the organic mind. Scaven's eyes narrow quickly. He knew this was coming, sooner or later, ever since she entered the Sandbar. Perhaps he should have scooted offworld as soon as he left Ruathen's. But then again, that wasn't in his nature to run, and that will get him killed someday. For now, his eyes glance across the room quickly when she cue's her posse, taking a brief assessment of the situation and calculating the possible outcomes from every angle and every move he might take. He's not only studied the art of battle, or only sat quietly and safely upon a throne while he commanded others into battle. He's seen it, and been quit successful at it. "So be it" he simply states as his hand disappears into his overcoat. Scaven wields his Kylan-3 Heavy Blaster Pistol. "Or we get court martialed," Kyrin observes placidly to Rasi as he makes his comment regarding Lynae. "Twice, if one is lucky enough to waltz off with an Imperial Star Destroyer and manage to have it blown up under you." And then, because she was watching the tension-filled corner of doom, she sees the movement toward the overcoat, even if she didn't hear the words. Then her training kicks in as the droid and the security comes on in. "Heads up," she murmurs, her wings unfurling as a hand drifts toward her holster nice and easy. At the subtle narrowing of Scaven's eyes, Lynae's gaze shifts from his face to his body instead, reading his intentions in the way his body moves as he reaches inside his overcoat to where she's certain a multitude of weapons are waiting. Her hands remain in place, one resting on the table while the other is curled around the glass of rum she's been sipping from. With HM743's approach to the the table accompanied by the navy security officers who, as Scaven reaches into his jacket reach for the weapons they're carrying while four more security officers filter into the bar. "There really wasn't much of a choice, on my part," Lynae replies in that same conversational tone of voice. "Whether the order is lawful or not will have to be decided by someone with significantly higher rank than mine," which is also said with a faint tone of regret. Her gaze has remained on the part of his arm that she can see, trying to discern through the material of his coat what sort of weapon he'll be pulling out. However, everything is a weapon and this is a reminder she bears in mind when she lifts her glass, tilts it slightly, then without warning dashes the contents towards Scaven's face in a bid to temporarily distract if not blind him for the moment as she throws herself abruptly to the side to get out of the immediate line of fire. (speaking in Basic) "Shael and I don't go very far back, admittedly," Ruen murmurs to Kyrin, a subtle grin playing on the Duros' thin-lipped face, but she quickly retreats back into spectator mode in a few short moments. While the Republic-folk talk amongst themselves, Ruen focuses her attention on Lynae, Scaven, and the little welcoming committee that has apparently arrived for purposes of arrest. One thing leads to another, and the Duros can't help but feel a little bit confused and just a tad surprised, although there will certainly be time for bewilderment later on - Ruen's rifle and a bevy of other assorted weapons will make sure of it. Whipping her carbine into a ready position, Ruen wastes no time in jumping behind the booze-ridden counter and setting herself up for a shot. What was going on in the room was as difficult to miss as a flatulant hutt, and Shael has any number of signs to choose from. Like Ruen, she is quick to jump over to the otherside of the bar, her right hand going for her IR-5 and bring it to bear on the distasteful man and his disgusting coat. It does briefly occur to her that she's looking at getting herself in another fight, so soon on the heels of the last one. But hey, at least this time she's assisting Caspar authorities. ...right? The droid distinctly recalls Lynae mentioning something about keeping hands where they're visible, and, upon seeing the individual to be arrested whip out a weapon, concludes that the chances of someone being seriously hurt in this encounter have just gone way the hell up. The best course of action, then, is likely to get the weapon off him, so he doesn't get shot up, and so other people don't either. 743 is concerned to a degree for its own safty, but a lack of pain receptors and a knowledge of just how many spare parts it can get at, the machine chooses the path that might get it hurt, but will, it hopes, keep anyone else from getting killed. And thus, HM743 lunges for the man with the heavy blaster, seeking to knock him to the ground. "Yes, well we do not much like talking about that.", Rasi replies as he looks away, a dark look coming over him for that brief moment. Every culture, every society and every group has its taboos, and the military is no different with the C M words being subjects that aren't to be mentionned lightly. "Head...", he begins to ask when the Chyleni speaks, and the scene is quickly processed, making any spoken explanations superfluous at best. Gulping down much of his fizzyglug, the glass having just arrived then, the glass is placed on the ground and he reaches into his coat for his blaster, and soon after he is ducking behind a table he dropped on its side, using it as a cover. Before he dares fire a shot, the man tries to get a quick reading of the situation. It was clearly obvious by now what was going down as the multitude of security officers entered behind the droid, a droid which Scaven recognized from Ruathen's... As many times before in battle, the General's senses narrow and clarify into that which years of training provided him. As he pulls out his Kylan-3, the same blaster that took down Detjin in this very bar, he notices alcohol flying toward his face. Moving to the side, it misses him by a hair over his shoulder. At the same time, 743 and it's massive clumsy weight comes flying at him and all it's limbs. With his free hand clasped to the edge of the table, he uses it to maneuver out of the way and at the same time flipping the table in the direction of the approaching security forces. The Droid misses by a mile, but to no surprise as it weighs a lot and has no way to correct itself in flight (I assume). With his blaster ready, he lauches a couple of bolts towards one of the security forces while at the same time moving closer to who set him up. And then it's down to fighting. Kyrin's not about to stay in /front/ of the bar and be shot at with droids flying like discuses... discii? around the place. With a light hop and a single sweep of her wings, she leaps up and over the bar, the muzzle of two properly-permitted civilian blasters peeking up over the bar, and she does her best to keep the bartender out of harm's way with the curt order to, "Keep your head down." Her two weapons are aimed toward the table that goes flying, but as it's still too much of a mess to start indiscriminately firing at things and accidentally get Lynae (as much as it will cause a cheer from the ghosts of those lost on Cochran). "Wait for a clear shot," she curtly instructs those with her. The thrown drink didn't exactly do as she'd hoped, and Lynae reminds herself mentally that this is why she does not engage nor indulge in hand to hand combat, she's just not designed for this stuff. So while she'd started to scoot to the edge of the booth she looks up as HM743 launches himself at Scaven and the 'pause' is really what traps her in the end. The edge of the table is lifted and table dropped into a position that provides a somewhat effective shield and further.. well.. now she's on the wrong side of the shield. Which is to say face to face with Scaven Marx, "That certainly didn't go as planned," she says in a voice that's remarkably calm as she edges back away from the upturned table and the man with all the weaponry. (speaking in Basic) Something within the Duros causes her to lower the nozzle of her carbine, many moments before the Chyleni instructs their companions behind the bar to hold their fire. With her gun now lowered to her hip, Ruen pops her head up from the counter to passively watch the droid and Scaven - of course, it's rather hard to see them through the wall of screaming, fleeing patrons, even with the table flinging added to the mix. Shael mumbles a few impolite words under her breath as she watches chaos errupt in the room, and she keeps her blaster trained in the general direction of 'the enemy.' She doesn't dare fire for a few moments longer, until all the fleeing civilians have had time to escape... but if Lynae gets killed while she stands here doing nothing, she's gonna have to explain that to Enb'Zik. Seeing as how he is just as likely to hit friend, relatively friendly anyway, as he is foe at this point in the fight, Rasi simply begins to relax feeling quite safe behind cover. He crawls out all of two or three metres to retrieve the glass he abandonned before heading behind the table once more. Taking a glance around and at the table to see if the situation has changed, he takes a quick sip of his fizzyglug, the glass held in his left hand while the right wields his blaster. The droid discovers in short order that, firstly, it has been called in to provide muscle in bring ing in someone who possesses considerable experience in combat. This was not in the memo. Second, it discovers that the target is fast. Very fast. The droid's maneuvering thrusters, typically employed for microgravity operations, flare and reorient its considerable bulk in midtair, allowing it to spring off the wall behind the bar(breaking several bottles in the process, it assumes these will be on the tab of whoever sent Lynae for this), and springing back over top of the target. The machine lands heavily, as it is heavy, and flips up a table in front of the one group of bar patrons that has not already taken cover. See? This is what happens when you let tourists in. They just don't know how a place *works*. The machine's next impulse is to radio for backup. And when you're Navy property, that's, well, the Navy. It wasn't long before the throtting of feet and screams could be heard as patrons begin to frantically scurry about in lou of blasterfire and several security officers going down. Although they didn't seem to be fatal shots, and their armor absorbed a lot of the blow, they surely won't be a part of the arrest from this point on. Scaven reaches out to the trapt Lynae, trying to grab her from fleeing so he could pull her back and place his blaster against the side of her head. So amusing these free cultures where a human shield becomes the most effective defense. Kyrin and her blasters peek over the bar once more. "HOLD YOUR FIRE!" she bellows out in a parade-ground roar that would do Vengan proud, alas that he's not here to hear it. And when Scaven tries to take Lynae as a hostage, she's up and over the bar again, her wings flaring out, boots pushing off of the poor abused bar, and she's inbound on a vector, both blaster muzzles pointed forward, aimed at the corner where the two are scuffling. Ever see an X-Wing boring down on a hapless TIE fighter? Even if she holds her fire for fear of hitting Lynae, the two civilian-grade blasters would make most excellent blunt objects. Lynae sees the decision in Scaven's eyes a bare moment before he makes a move to grab her and that glimpse is enough to make her scramble backwards in response. She's not a complete idiot when it comes to hand to hand fighting, or she'd have to apologize profusely to Aranzael for having wasted so much of his time. With precious little room to maneuver in she has two things on her mind. Keep him from shooting her and get rid of that table-shield if possible. The first isn't any easier than the second, granted, but it's important to always have goals when fighting. She jams an elbow towards his side while twisting around and avoiding the blaster that was meant to be pressed to the side of her head. Empty handed, still, she grabs for his arm with both hands and kicks at one of the legs of the table with every ounce of strength she has to spare. (speaking in Basic) Free society this might be, but this is a very BAD place to be doing this. For one, it's right in the heart of the capital, in a well-travelled route, with a lot of police presence. For another, the barkeep would've hit her silent alarm the instant this all started. The good people who run the Sandbar aren't exactly keen on having their establishment be the venue for gunplay, after all. It makes it rather tricky for them to run a business. And those fleeing patrons have made their share of emergency calls by now. The Constabulary will KNOW that there have been shots fired. And though the Constabulary tends to tread lightly, once riled, they don't dick around. They come in force. They deal with gunplay situations in the most spectacularly unfair but utterly professional manner. Outside, there are the sounds of speeders grounding, and the flashing of emergency lights can be seen through the open doorway. Now that the 'hero' quota has been reached via Kyrin's brash beeline, Ruen can't help but smile out of keen satisfaction, even as the ominous sounds of a certain exasperated police force ring in from the outside. She keeps her rifle angeled sharply towards the ground in a non-attack position, her eyes focused on the eminent brawl ahead. Shael's breath hisses tensely between her teeth as she watches Scaven and Lynae tussle together, and keeps her blaster aimed in tightly at Scaven. She doesn't have the skill to fire at him and miss Lynae. She knows that, and it drives her a little crazy. She's been neglectful of her blaster skills of late. Maybe she ought to work on them again? A rapid assessment of its own relevant skills(measured, unfortunately, in body mass), the number of weapons involved(about to roughly triple), and the desire(perhaps cowardly) to not mmediately be seen as a darthstigator by the arriving police combine in HM743, along with an over-regulation limit number of parentheses, and result in the droid pulling up a table behind which to be ducked. For a moment, he considers doing something stupid like actually getting up and trying to do all the heroic darting from cover to cover and attempting to get as close to the ensuing brawl as possible before shooting anyone. But then, apparently he's not supposed to to do something heroic like that and otherwise get in trouble. So, instead, Rasi does the sensible thing and stays put behind his table, sipping his glug and waiting for all of this to cool down. For precautions' sake, his weapon is set on stun and he lets it down on the ground, instead reaching in his coat for that cigarra case. As they say, if there's someone who's willing to get shot at, let them and be in the holonews long enough to get the praise for all the heroics afterwards. Taking an elbow to the side, it was obvious that taking Lynae hostage might prove to be a little more difficult then he originally intended. But the sounds of sirens approaching wasn't a good sign for escape. Just then, the enveloping canapy of wings are easily seen above the heads of fleeing patrons as Kyin's flight path brings her on a direct approach. Still holding Lynae's arm with one hand, he brings his blaster to level on the winged demon, firing off one shot, if not to kill then to incapacitate. Time was growing short, and this was beginning to get out of control.. All because Scaven wanted a bottle of Corellian Ale. See, the thing about shooting incoming objects is that unless said object is vaporized, it's still moving on its original vector. Just not as fast, and arcing down toward the floor. Kyrin is said incoming object, and his outbound shot gets her right in the left heart. Good thing she's also got a right heart to keep her alive until the good doctor can save her. Maybe. And given her people fight mid-air, a silly little thing like getting shot isn't going to stop one from trying to complete the job. And Kyrin is a New Republic military officer. All of these combine to allow her to squeeze the trigger on the blaster in her right hand, even as she's about to plow into both Lynae and Scaven like a bowling ball into the pins at the end of the alleyway. For Lynae each step of this is a series of holoimage freeze frames. Keeping the blaster from being pressed against her head - click. Kicking at the table - click. The sound of approaching officials - click. The sound of wings in the air and her head tilts back to spot Kyrin suddenly there above the booth - click. Scaven altering the position of the blaster to fire on Kyrin - click. Not one to be stunned into inactivity, and with adrenaline racing through her veins, Lynae tries to grab for Scaven's arm again, leaning across his body in the attempt which has the indirect result of providing a rather impromptu shield for Scaven as Kyrin returns fire. By the time Kyrin 'lands' Lynae is slumped across Scaven, hands still curled on the sleeve of his shirt but only out of reflex. (speaking in Basic) The Constabulary is out there, but they don't just come rushing straight into the chaotic firefight. Once upon a time, they probably would've. Though that was another age, before the Constabulary became a federal institution... the disjointed, chaotic, cowboy nature of the old 'Civil Defense Corps' of Elana Tracer's day. When Tom Mahon took power, this was one of those areas that he figured needed a lot of work. Outside, the scene is getting downright lousy with Constables in their blue body armor. They're bringing a bit of an abundance of long-guns too. They've downloaded the building's floorplans and matter-of factly move to cover the exits. They patch into the bar's security cameras (a simple expedience, given that they're the ones who called for help). And then there's the matter of that metal sphere that just bounced in through the front door while everyone was preoccupied with shooting one another. Under different circumstances, one might potentially find it cute the way that it unfolds itself into a scuttling, spiderlike little droid that appears to be mostly eyes. HM743 thinks it's absoloutely adorable. It would give it a hug, but firstly, droids don't have that instinct, and secondly, it's rude to interrupt people while they're working. 743 makes a number of tactical projections based upon the nature of the cute little thing, and all of the most probable suggest that cover is about to become a seriously moot point. "Kyrin!" Shael calls out in alarm, bouncing back over the bar again without really thinking about it. Kyrin put her life on the line, once, for Shael and ended up captured by Imperials. Shael hasn't forgotten it, and she's not about to leave her friend out there on her own. On the other hand, she also isn't about to do anything /intentionally/ suicidal. Keeping her blaster out at her side, the weapon set to stun as she always keeps it, she darts for the cover of a table while she struggles to get close enough to Kyrin to pull her to safety and help her. Scaven's eyes widen as Lynae struggles her way into a bolt. For a moment, he looks into her eyes and thinks she might have done that on purpose, but he couldn't be sure with how quickly it happened. But, that moment was short lived as Kyrin comes crashing into the two, knocking Scaven off his feet and landing flat on the floor, his blaster several feet away. Quickly, he unsheathes his sword, the familiar ring of hardened metal rings up the blade with an erie tone, light flashing down the mirrored flat edge across the room. Lowering it toward Kyrin, who seems to have upset the situation slightly, with brutal intentions.. (just starting toward her, not making a +check or anything) Kyrin looks up, her eyes struggling for focus, her wings askew, bleeding profusely from the hole in her chest. But she's not out yet. And she has two blasters, neither of which were knocked out of her hands by her graceless crash into the booth. With the last of her strength, she raises both her blasters and pulls the triggers. And then she passes out. If she lives, she'll face the guilt of having accidentally shot Lynae when she wakes up. And what she'll say to Leia to explain what happened. Well, woe of woes, it all comes down to the only sane person left in the joint, which should tell everyone involved how truly and terrifyingly messed up the situation is. Thankfully, if he is to be shot, Rasi will do so in style with his trenchcoat's tail flying behind him as he leaves his table and begins to run stealthily towards the scene of the fight. And to compliment that, he even has a lit cigarra between his lips. Crapcrapcrapcrap, the thought quite literally flashing inside his head, he trains his weapon as closely as possible on the belligerent man in this situation, hoping to take advantage of the nice distrac...er, opening created for him by the Colonel's mad das...flight. His shot is delayed as long as possible, might as well not waste it, but finally when Rasi deems that it is good as it is going to get, he squeezes the trigger on his DY and releases the blue-ish bolt associated with a stun-grade shot. Hopefully, now that the man's occupied by his sword he won't be as prone at using his ungodly reflexes on Rasi who's kept his approach as hidden as possible. With the fight dragging on, and obvious wounded sprawling here and there, one might wonder just how long the Union's (proper) authorities are going to wait to put an end to this mess. Well, to be fair to them, it IS better to go into such a situation prepared, and with an actual plan, rather than simply winging it and hoping it doesn't turn into a complete SNAFU. This just might be it. That little spider-like droid crackles for a moment, as if patching through a signal. It squeals noisily from a bit of feedback, and then starts to broadcast a voice. It's not the nicest of voices, though it's entirely devoid of anger. It just has some 'wouldn't want to meet him in a dark alley' qualities to it. "This is Captain Cunha, Union Constabulary," intones the voice, evenly, with just a hint of weariness, "To all combattants presently engaged in the Sandbar, this is your ONLY opportunity to surrender. If you have a weapon in hand, I would advise dropping it immediately. If you do not comply, all necessary force will be used to neutralise you. This is your only warning." It probably won't be long now. Kyrin's shot catches Lynae in the back, the blaster bolt more or less bouncing off of Lynae's shoulder blade and spreading the damage up and around. The force of it isn't so much that she's knocked out, but enough to knock the wind out of her, send her sprawling to the side with the aid of a good push from Scaven and she ends up on her side facing Kyrin. The pain is really quite something, which her analytical mind is, oddly enough, taking very good record of. The numbness is notably slow to set it, and this clears out another cliche about how the wounds that hurt the most are the ones that you really need to worry about. She's staring right into Kyrin's face at this point before her gaze is tugged to the seepage of dark blood on the front of Kyrin's tunic. Dark blood, that's not good, it's -never- good in fact. Her left hands fumbles at her side, reaching for the medpac that's hung there for so long, and finds it's hook empty. The booming voice makes her jump visibly and she starts to twist slightly, getting her knees beneath her and starting to crawl to Kyrin's side, which relatively speaking isn't that far away but seems to be. "Kyrin," she says, coughs then presses one hand against the side of the Chyleni's neck and starts a pulse count, her eyes closing to help her focus while she does this. (speaking in Basic) At this point, 743 feels noticibly safer. Not only have the local constabulary apparently got a nice, effective soloution here, but 743 himself is in no way a suitable hostage in any case. The machine looks to Lynae, and to Kyrin and considers the wisdom of running to them, to stop the bleeding. Given that this would almost certainly startle the man with the sword who has quite frankly been demolishing everyone actively opposing him, and that they seem likely to last long enoguh for a sniper or twelve to pop a hatrack worth of caps into anyone swinging a weapon around, the droid elects to wait a few seconds. "No!" Shael practically shrieks out when she sees him pulling the sword on Kyrin, and she pops up from behind one of the tables, only a few feet shy of the main altercation, aiming her blaster in on the man. "Back away from my friends!" she orders him viciously, opening fire even before she's finished voicing her warning. Friends plural, huh? Maybe Lynae qualifies after all. As for warnings: Shael is not going to stand by and let a man murder her friend simply because a disemboded voice in a little droid ordered her to. As Kyrin's blasters come up to level on Scaven, he quickly spins, throwing up his leather overcoat into the air around him. Her two shots hit only shadow and air as they peirce through the leather and across the room. Not even a half second later, shots fly past Scaven. It was enough to get his attention. As he turns, he hears another female yelling something inaudible as she fires almost randomly at him while running in his direction. Swiftly, he ducts to the side, and rolls toward Shael, bringing his sword around at it's maximum length in order to gash the female open at some part of her body. All in the backdrop of impending doom outside as the Captain Cunha belches his voice into the establishment. See, Rasi's a great shot, the best freaking shot in this world, maybe not that, but he is still a great nonetheless. But see, what had happened was that he was distracted and that made it so that he missed. What is it that distracts such a finely-tuned and trained combat machine as he? Well, getting shot in the leg does tend to perform that task rather admirably. The colonel's stray double shots, or one of them to be more precise, straying far too close to him, his upper thigh to be more precise. The end result of that being that he now finds himself with a rather ruined upper left leg, though fortunately the shot doesn't take the entire leg, just enough of it that he is taken down immediately. And thus, a perfect shot ruined, foolish pilots always ruining things, someone should do something about that. It is purely a coincidence that he drops to the ground just when the cops outside issue their commands. Just before he hits the ground, painfully that a loud curse is issued, he squeezes off another shot, this time depending on pure luck rather than anything else. Barely a second passes before the shot is fired that he drops the gun, instead clutching at his wound. Lynae's query of her name gets no response from Kyrin. Her questing doctor's fingers find one and a half pulses - normally there are two - and it's obvious that the Chyleni needs a proper medical facility... stat. Her wings are limp, her civilian attire bloodspattered, and the two blasters still have to be pried from her fingers. Hopefully the CDU person in charge doesn't 'neutralize' her for still technically violating their order to put all their weapons down. She's not exactly in a position to comply at the moment. And if Scaven hasn't killed her, Leia probably will. So we've been a little light on takers for Cunha's generous offer, eh? Well. Duly noted. He gives folks until the count of one, because that's all that's really needed to assess just who is complying, and who isn't, particularly with the situation inside being streamed live to the Constabulary. Cunha matter-of-factly gives the green-light. The thump of grenade launchers is effectively simultaneous with great gaping holes opening in that blue glass. Two launchers, rapid-firing... Whump, whump, whump. The first three are stun grenades, detonating in mid-air after clearing the window-frame. To say that they're bright is an understatement. Hold your hand up in the face of it, and you'll be able to see the bones in your hands. And the sonic end of it is like a swift kick in the stomach from a tauntaun. Loud enough to temporarily deafen, and tuned to a frequency range that'll induce dizziness in most humanoids, that noise just claws straight into one's belly and urges the contents within to make the quickest possible exit from the closest available orifice. The next three are gas, good for a burning sensation on exposed skin (particularly the eyes, nasal membranes, mouth, and respiratory tracts). It's perhaps redundant, since the stun grenades are still screaming. One of the latter grenades seems to have been aimed squarely for Scaven's mid-section. And this is all BEFORE the constables outside open fire on anyone with a weapon who crosses their line of fire (stunners, luckily, though not gentle, pleasant ones by any means), and breaching teams start storming in through the front and rear doors. Funny, but they seem unaffected by the effects of their own grenades on account of their sealed helmets. 743 takes notes on the approach used, and flops a little to the ground, the machine's 'hips clunking against the floor as its legs relax, in hopes of looking less threatening. While not being caused pain by the stun grenades, nor the barrage of stunner fire that floods parts of the room, the droid's senses are more or less in overload now, and as it is blind, deaf, and the ion splash from all the blaster fire is throwing its tactile senses way out of whack, it decides to stay very still until all hell finishes beaking loose, and the opto-receptive planels in its 'eyes' get some time to reset themselves. With her eyes already closed to count, Lynae isn't exactly blinded this time, though mere eyelids are not enough to save her from being dazzled by the blinding light and to see nothing but floating blobs of spots in her vision when she cracks her eyes open. Which, once everything else starts to land and tally up, proves to be one of the sorts of mistakes that one wishes to not make. Now, it's terribly rude to throw up on one's patient. It just is. It's the sort of thing that a physician doesn't tend to live down. Hey doc - throw up on anyone lately? That sort of remarks. So, she makes a point to not throw up on Kyrin, it's really really bad to do that! and manages to twist a bit to the side and be profoundly thankful that a few sips of rum really don't amount to much, and skipping the last meal.. well anyway. She coughs and croaks out the words, "We need a medic in here - lots of them " in as loud a voice as she can manage. (speaking in Basic) So it came to this. Scaven thought as much. He knew it wouldn't take long for the brass to show up in numbers, and there's no way out for him now. But, his point was to resist arrest. There really wasn't sufficient evidence to arrest Scaven in the first place, not for any CDU crimes. Just a personal vendetta that Kiz held against him. Of course, he was wanted by the NR, that was no secret, and for good reason. The familiar boom of grenade launchers outside brought back memories. Scaven quickly drops his sword and covers his eyes and ears as he turns, but to no avail as a grenade crashes through the window and hits him in the chest. He's thrown several yards before hitting the far wall and knocked unconcious instantly. All in all, this has just become a highly unpleasant experience for Shael. She lets out a pained cry as she sword bites deeply into her left shoulder. Her blaster falls from her right hand as she reaches across to clasp at the wound, and starts desperately back-peddling away from Scaven as all chaos breaks out around her. And by all chaos, of course, I mean further chaos. Her eyes squeeze closed in a response to the bright flashes, as she struggles to control the sudden nausea. She likely would have succeeded too, if not for the coughing induced by the gas. She would really, really like some medical attention now. This is miserable! At least the glug he had, the only thing so far thanks to the quality or lack of of Caspian slammer food, doesn't amount to more than a puddle of liquid forming on the ground around as he regurgitates that drink, thankfully, through the same way out as it went in. When he can breathe calmly and is relatively certain that nothing more will happen, Rasi shouts at the enterring cops. "Stop firing and call in the medics, the situation is frakking neutralized you overeager little...", the rest of his words get lost as he nearly screams in pain as another jolt of pain goes through his well-exposed wound. The only thing that spares him from that indignity being the fact that he clamps his mouth shut. Before this whole mess happened, there probably wasn't sufficient evidence to arrest Scaven. Now? Well, that's a little iffy, since the good folks at the Union Constabulary don't take their marching orders from Kizuka, and simply cleaned up a mess that had been handed to them by the reckless acts of others. If he HADN'T been shooting people up and cutting folks up in a manner that looked rather more like excessive force than self-defense, yeah, he'd probably walk from this (after a little medical attention and a change of skivvies). But he won't be without company on that front, as the constables seem to be arresting everyone else who fits that definition, including any of the people from their own Navy who took part in this little fiasco. Included among the arrested would be a good many of the wounded, though obviously some are too seriously wounded to merit putting on the cuffs, and will instead be born out on stretchers.. Ariani and the staff of the Sandbar are going to have a wonderful time cleaning up from this mess. The Sandbar will be closed for the next day for repairs and sanitizing. But in the grand scheme of things, any complaints they have won't be directed at the Constabulary.
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