Chapter 9: Finding Clues
Natasha's style was fluid and acrobatic. Like a dancer, but lethal as she moved from one man to the next in turns, jumps, twists, or splits. Not dramatic, but smooth and efficient, as both years of muscle memory and the Force guided her movements around the floor. Three more came at her and she turned in a circle, taking all three down before settling back into a defensive position. A fourth man hesitated, but he lunged at her full force and met his end at the tip of her plasma blade.
It occurred to her then that they needed to keep one alive, if only to question him about what he knew. Could be nothing, but it could be something, so she darted towards the man whose arms she'd taken first to make sure he was still alive.
Sherlock flipped over his second victim, and jumped at the next two, who's blasters were firing at a near constant rate. A swift swipe with blue light, and they both fell as well. Natasha had two blades, he had one. But that didn't make him any less effective at it. He preferred one, it suited him. Letting Natasha fall back, he pushed forward, confidently attacking the remaining few.
Having moved the now armless man out of the way, Natasha smiled faintly when she caught sight of the dark blue lightsaber moving in the darkness. She and Sherlock really were a well-oiled machine, moving around each other with perfect timing without having to exchange a single word. Yet one more thing she'd missed.
Turning her attention back to the armless man, Natasha caught his face in her hand. "Stay alive," she ordered, rising from her crouch and seamlessly joining Sherlock in battle to take care of the rest of them.
Working together, the remaining few didn't take long to neutralize. He should regret taking life, even if it was necessary, but Sherlock really had never cared as much as he should about that. Especially when Molly's wellbeing was hanging in the balance. Like the team they were, they finished the last of the armed men. He pulled his lightsaber out of the last one's abdomen, and stood up to straighten his robes. "Nice work, Princess. Missed that." He kept his lightsaber on for light, and nodded his head towards the armless one. "Decided to keep a pet?"
"You know me, Charming. I'm all about keeping pets," Natasha replied, keeping only one side of her double-bladed lightsaber activated as she moved to crouch in front of the armless man. "Especially if I can get them to do a trick or two. Like talking."
The man tried scrambling away from her, but the wall behind his back kept him from going any further. "Please!" The man pleaded. "They never said you'd be Jedi! I didn't-"
"Let's cut to the chase," Natasha interrupted impassively. "How about you tell us what you know about the man who hired you? Where he's staying, who he's got with him. You know how this goes."
"Mercenary. No family. Little to no schooling." Sherlock deduced in the blue and purple light. "Ate too much on the stake out. Idiot. But is playing dumb about the whole thing." He pointed the end of the blue light at the man's nose. "Now, you will tell us what you know, and maybe we won't kill you very slowly."
"I don't know. We…we just were hired to protect the house. No names, just a credit transfer and the letter 'M'" The man winced as the humming lightsaber inched closer to him.
"It's in the details." Sherlock said, waving the blade around. "Ways of contact, comm link messaging system?" Upon getting a nod, he smirked slightly. "Where is it?"
"Gludar had it….he's the one with the…braid." The man said with a frown.
"Got it, Princess, he's all yours." Sherlock moved away to find the comm link.
Natasha rose from the ground, purple-glowing plasma making a familiar sound in the darkness as she twirled the lightsaber in her hand and sliced the man's head clean off. Perhaps she should've felt something right then, at the very least a small amount of regret for having to killed so many... but she felt absolutely nothing. Not when they would've gladly killed her and Sherlock for credits, and not while her padawan was still missing. Deactivating her lightsaber completely, she walked over bodies to get to Sherlock. "Found it yet?" She asked as she neared him. "We should call ahead before we go back, see if Naomi needs anything from the city."
"Got it." Sherlock said, pulling the small device out of the side pocket of the man with the double braids. His head was across the room, but Sherlock had deduced who it was. "You can track the last signal?" He tossed it up in the air and caught it again in his hand. "You want to do the honors of contacting my brother, or is that my privilege?"
"You can have the honors," Natasha replied, plucking the comm link out of his hands to look at the model. "Tracking the last signal shouldn't be a problem, I just need my tools," she confirmed, handing it back over while clipping her saber back to her belt. Her eyes scanned the barely visible bodies littering the room. "We can try to find a live one in this mess if we need to, though. I think I stabbed one somewhere non-lethal. He might still be breathing."
"Help yourself to him, I'll contact Mycroft." Sherlock said to Natasha, pocketing the stolen communicator before pulling out his. It activated before he had the chance to start his own communication. He made a humming noise and then answered. "Brother dear. How are things?"
"Blown to bits," Mycroft replied immediately. "A small army of Cybermen attacked the cruiser and we had to fight our way out. We're hiding in the city. A lodging house towards the edge, or perhaps hostel is the proper word. Sidi Driss, is the name."
"Oh, that sounds nice." Sherlock said, making a bit of a face at that news. Deductions had that their transport was also 'blow to bits'. "We'll be there shortly. Need anything? How's John? Naomi?"
"Naomi's unconscious, she used up a great deal of energy on our way out. John's checking on her now, he's fine," Mycroft answered diligently.
Natasha rose from the floor where she'd been questioning the half-alive man she'd mentioned earlier and moved to stand in front of Sherlock. Quietly she listened to the conversation, brows furrowed at the turn of events.
"Alright, we'll be there soon. Contact us if you need anything." Sherlock said quickly and turned the link. "Trouble seems to run in the family. Change of plans. Your tools are gone, we'll have to pick up more on our way. What do you need?"
Mycroft stowed away the comm link and fixed his eyes on Sherlock's young padawan. "Anything we need to do for Naomi?"
"I don't know." John said, taking his two fingers off of her carotid and leaning on the bed "I think she's just overexerted herself, which takes away power from her healing, right? I might try the Force healing again, just in case."
"Yes, it does," Mycroft said thoughtfully, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Force healing, then. If you feel like you can. Otherwise, we'll wait until you're rested."
"I'll do it." John said with a nod and stood up to position himself as before, hands over her. "She needs it more than I do. And I think we need all the help we can get." He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and summoned the Force as before. It came easier that time, which surprised him, and he'd hold the moment as long as he could.
"That she does." Mycroft had to admire John's dedication, and he made note of it to tell his brother in the future. If they survived, and if his brother would hear him. He rarely did. Dismissing that thought, he fixed his eyes on Naomi's face but held back from touching her. It wouldn't be appropriate, and he'd have plenty of time eventually. So he settled for simply remaining quiet while John did his work.
John felt the Force flowing through him, and he had to note how cool it was. This was something that required a lot of practice, especially for padawans, and many couldn't even do it. He dismissed the emotion of pride, and just worked on Naomi. He'd been right, she'd just overexerted herself. John was near certain that anyone else would have died with those injuries, and whatever she'd done with the Cybermen. He held the healing Force light longer than he had the first time, but eventually he couldn't anymore and stepped away with a short gasp. "I think…I'm going to go take a nap. Can you make sure Sherlock wakes me up when he gets back?"
"Yes, of course," Mycroft answered quickly, pulling out of his head to take a look at him. He nodded once and rose to his feet, retrieving a key to one of the rooms and passing it over. "Get some rest, John," he said quietly. "You've done extremely well today, it's... quite admirable." He fixed blue eyes on him. "You'll make a great Jedi one day."
"Thank you, Master." John said with a bow of his head, fairly surprised at the compliment. He took the key to the room next door, too tired to really fully process everything, and slipped out of the room. A quick swipe of the key and seconds later he was flopping onto the bed, fast asleep.
Mycroft waited until John had left the room altogether before sitting back down on the bed and reaching out to take Naomi's hand. He sighed heavily and closed his eyes, clearing his head to think about the latest in a long line of frustrating events. The Cybermen attack, and the two men controlling them from the shadows.
