Outside the facility, Grot peered carefully at the utterly wrecked entrance, advancing out from cover just enough to sweep the area. Rain poured in heavy sheets around him, and lightning thundered overhead in broad, sweeping arcs. The harsh weather made it harder to see and threw off his aim, but it was a truly ill wind that blew nobody good. This wind, in particular, appeared to have hastily carried away the smoke from the initial explosion, and whatever magic the Sith had summoned had long since dispersed. He had a clear and open view of the entranceway.
The whelp had ended his assault for now, which was both welcome and worrying. Grot was, at any rate, thankful for the chance to reload and take stock of the situation. The lull in combat also meant his last barrage of gunfire must have had some effect, or else they were merely plotting some new angle of attack. It was the last possibility that had worried. Blinking away the rain, the Trandoshan spotted a dark shape moving up through the doorway. He raised his revolvers, preparing to fire, but then noticed that it was alone, unarmed except for a sword. The Sith had decided to leave his droid behind. How odd…
“That is close enough, sorcerer!” Grot shouted, bearing rows of sharpened teeth at his assailant. Areticus stopped, a cocksure grin on his face as the rain began to soak him to the bone
“Sorcerer? Is that what you think I am?” he mocked, faintly bemused.
“A child is what I think you are! A hatchling! Your immature fit will see you dead, either by my hand or the Kaminoans,” Grot shouted, feeling his anger rising,“I advise you to run, if only so I can feel the thrill of the chase!”
“Oh no, I can’t leave quite yet my Trandoshan friend. You and I have a score to settle.”
“Your pride is so fragile that you would kill over an insult?”
“Please, I was content with merely maiming you before. Now, though, you’ve damaged my droid, and you’re going to pay for that in full.” Areticus smirked as he leaned down and prepared to charge, drawing his blade up in front of him protectively. He concentrated and gathered his energy, focusing his will into a single, sharpened burst of energy.
“Then you will pay for your arrogance in blood, hatchling!” The Human burst like a sprinter off the block towards Grot, moving with supernatural speed across the rain-slicked platform. Simultaneously, the mercenary’s pistols erupted into a hail of slugs, tracking him the entire way. The Sith’s blade flashed and caught some of the slugs on the flat of the weapon, shattering them against the hardened metal. The supernatural reflexes of a force-user are not infallible, however, and even a split-second error might mean the difference between life and death. Areticus hissed in pain as one of the deadly slugs grazed his right thigh, his side-step short by only a few hairs.
Grot’s jetpack roared to life as the Sith began to close into range with his sword, carrying the mercenary up and away from the sharpened steel. Areticus slowed to a stop and smiled, supremely confident in himsel. Just as I planned, you primitive meathead. The Human smirked and outstretched a hand towards the fleeing Trandoshan, only for his eyes to spark with surprise at what he saw.
A grenade.
The black, oblong shape sailed down towards him, unlatched from the mercenary's belt and thrown in one swift motion. He turned on his heel to dodge away, but his movements were clumsy on the wet metal, and he could tell right away he would never get out of the blast radius. In the last few seconds before the grenade struck the ground, he could only wonder why he hadn’t sensed it coming.
The world erupted into catastrophic noise; Areticus could feel his eardrums nearly bursting under the sudden pressure. His vision swam and blurred in pain, and he tumbled to the ground as his knees buckled. Grot smiled savagely as he hovered above, holstering his pistols and unslinging his rifle for the final blow. He cycled the bolt, loading the armor piercing shell that would end the Human’s life. He carefully looked down the scope, saying a moments prayer as he depressed the trigger—
A sudden storm of blaster bolts erupted from the facilities entrance, bracketing Grot and landing a solid hit on his jetpack. His flight stuttered for a moment before he regained control and swung his rifle around to face the facility. There, despite his damage done to its leg, was the HK droid leaning against the wall, firing its blaster rifle on full auto.
Grot roared in frustration, altering his flight-path to dodge the shots and waiting for his moment to strike. The barrel of the HK’s rifle began to glow white with heat as he fired, desperately trying to shoot down the flying Trandoshan. Eventually, the weapons safety functions kicked in to prevent a catastrophic overheat of the blaster, stopping the Droids assault with a loud hiss. Grot smiled, grasping his chance, and sighted in his rifle to put the droid down for good.
Below him, Areticus began to stumble his way back to his feet, the disorientation wearing off slowly as he regained his bearing. He willed the pain to leave his senses, using the Force to block out the unpleasant sensation. He looked up back towards the facility and saw his loyal butler firing his blaster like a mad-man, the bolts leaving white streaks across his blurry vision. The firing suddenly stopped as the rifle's barrel began to glow white-hot, and the droid tried to duck for cover as best he could on his damaged leg. Too slow.
A sudden, piercing crack, like the ever-present thunder, filled the air. The droid’s torso exploded into a sudden shower of broken metal as the armor piercing slug tore through its interior workings, wrecking the electronics entirely. The droid fell to the ground, utterly still and motionless.
Rage filled the Sith’s entire being, overwhelming the grogginess and granting him the energy to stand on his feet. He reached out towards the mercenary, wishing more than anything for him to simply stop moving. In the air, Grot felt a sudden icy chill occupy his body. His movements became difficult, slow, and hard to manage. The fine motor skills required to maintain the jetpacks flight became nearly impossible as his body simply stopped responding properly to his commands.
The Trandoshan slowly began to sway, teetering from side to side as the stormy winds buffeted him. Suddenly he began to spiral out of control, and dived down towards the far end of the platform as a sudden gust of wind propelled him into a flat spin. His jetpack sputtered and died as he crashed with a loud thud, bouncing off the ground and on to his back.
Areticus released his hold over Grot with a heavy, shaking sigh. Collecting his sword from the ground, he began to approach the prone Trandoshan, his face twisted into rage.
