He sat down on a table to the right of the entrance, pulled out of his jacket his comm and a screwdriver and started repairing the device. When the waitress came, he only asked for some water and kept working.

A couple of minutes later, some thugs came to him. Their leader was from some species he had never seen before. He kept watching this alien for a moment, taking mental note of it's features, and continued trying to repair the gadget between his hands.

"Hey guys! I think this one's not from here: he has just sat down on our table."

"Excuse me?"

"This is a Black Vulkar table, our table, you have sat down on it."

Blaze, who hadn't stopped working on his communicator, seemed unaffected by the Vulkar's commentary. His nice manners were vanishing as quickly as he was growing tired of those thugs. "So?"

"So? So! You have a death wish or something?"

The alien to the left of the leader interfered on the conversation: "Hey, Brulk, I think this human deserves a lesson."

Hearing his partner the third thug examined the man in front of him. "Yeah, he thinks being hurt and all means we are going to hold back."

The mercenary now wanted both to laugh and kill: those guys were really close to earn a good bone breaking. "I don't expect you to do so. Do a favor to yourselves and let me be."

The strange one took Blaze's comm from his hands to catch his attention. "I'm Brulk, from the Black Vulkars. You are going to show me respect."

The alien had accomplished his wishes of being the center of the man's attention… In the wrong way: The injured merc rose from his chair, he was tall enough to surpass the alien's height; and his glare was convinced, intimidating… And deathly. "I'm Blaze and I show respect to no one; except if I wish to. You'll bring my communicator back to me. Alive… Or dead."

Apparently, the Vulkar leader had been too slow to return to Blaze his property, because the mercenary settled that the decision had been taken: he would retrieve it from the thug's corpse. He thrust the screwdriver into his target's head and took both the improvised weapon and the wrist comm from the death Vulkar before he fell to the ground. Then, he sat down again, returning to his work. "Run." The other two Vulkars didn't hesitate like their ex-leader: they followed Blaze's instruction at light speed and fled from the cantina.

He hadn't even been able to find out what was the problem with his dysfunctional gadget when he felt someone tapping his left shoulder slightly. Pain crossed his brain like a shock wave due to his injuries. He though twice before killing the cause of his pain and decided to be nice again: he could still use some help. "How can I help you…" He turned around to see a blue teenager female Twi'lek. She seemed like what they called themselves 'street smarts', just the type of person to ask for what he needed. Be nice: not 'bitch',"Miss?"

"Hey, I saw you taking care of those Vulkars, how did you do that?"

Be cool: answer questions with questions, make her be interested. If she wants something, she'll have to give info."How did I do what?"

"Move so fast."

"I don't know, I suppose I'm fast."Oh, oh, this can end the conversation, stupid! Say something… Presentations, of course. Presentations are made to initiate a conversation, not to finish it."The name's Blaze,"he said, extending a hand for her to shake."What about you?"

With a smile on her face, the young blue Twi'lek shook his hand while she was sitting down on a chair opposite from his own, so they could talk face to face."Mission, Mission Vao. Nice to meet you."Bingo! I love you, 'How to be nice'."Say, I don't recognize you, and I know everyone in the Lower city. Are you from the Upper One?"

Lower City and Upper City, I suppose the lower you go, the worse the situation is. She seems nice, doesn't feel like the Vulkars… Maybe she's opposite to them, like Bastila is to the Dark Jedis. I think I can trust her enough… It's not like I'll be able to continue without some help, anyway. Ok, time to show the first card of the hand…"I was on the Endar Spire. My escape pod crashed nearby."

"The Endar Spire… You mean, the Republic ship that exploded yesterday?"

Wow! A whole day? Well, she's already started to give information. Now, the comm."Yeah, that one." He showed her his broken communicator."I was trying to repair this so I could find out if there are more survivors, but I'm not good enough. Guess I'll have to find a mechanic to do it for me." He searched in the corpse's pockets and found some credits. "You know anyone who would repair it for 100 credits?"

Mission didn't hesitate to respond. "Me."

At first, Blaze thought that the girl in front of him was joking."You?" He instantly regretted his words: the teenager could take this the wrong way and think that he underestimated her by her age or species.

She had: her face turned to a scold."Yeah, me. What's wrong?" He needed to correct himself. How about daring her to do it? She seems the never-lose-a-dare type. This could work to my advantage.

"Well… Nothing, really. I just think that this is a nearly irreparable case. Only a pro could do it." He looked her straight to the eyes."Do you thing you can do this?"

As expected, her humor changed again, she was more interested on the gadget in his hands. She took it and, carefully, studied it. When she finished, she returned it to him."Is it a dare?"

"You can call it that way, if you want."

"What's on stake?"

"It depends on what do you want."

"Mmmm… How about your screwdriver versus some computer spikes?"

"My screwdriver and the 100 credits, or screwdriver alone?"

Mission seemed to think about the chances of having both credits and tool; but, to Blaze's contentment, she wasn't greedy. "Only the screwdriver. Deal?"

"Deal." The man handed her his communicator and the tool he had been using and the Twi'lek started to work almost instantly; but a big, furry, growling alien stopped her. A Wookiee… I saw one once, but it was a long time ago. Hope he'll be a friend of hers.

The Wookiee started to talk in his mother language to Mission. He seemed worried for her."Mission! What are you doing? He's human…" The furry alien took a look on Blaze's clothes and seemed more anxious, even a bit angry. "And he's definitely no Beck."

"Oh, come on, Big Z. He's a good guy. We've made a stake and I'm going to win." This didn't seem to calm down Mission's friend.

"You know what are the humans like, Mission. He'll enslave you if you give him the chance." In Blaze's mind, this was his cue to be nice to the Wookiee. Fortunately, he had known one of this species before and knew what was their weak point; or, at least, he thought.

"My name's Blaze, nice to meet you, Big Z. Your friend Mission has kindly offered herself to help me repairing my communicator." Big Z didn't say a thing. Instead, he just stared at the filthy human who was sitting down at the table, near a Vulkar's corpse. The human was surely an adult, but he didn't recognize well human ages. He was very injured: part of his torso and back was covered with many painful scratches and his left leg was resting on an odd angle (surely broken); his left arm had the most injuries, tough, it seemed nearly impossible to him that the human could actually be able to move it faster than a tortoise.

Blaze noticed that the Wook was measuring him and decided to make his next move. "For both of us, it's a win-win situation: if she succeeds, she'll have my screwdriver and I'll have what I need: my comm repaired. If she fails, she'll lose only the quantity of computer spikes she chooses and I suppose she'll be so kind of telling me about someone who can do it. Of course, there'll be some credits for the information."Meanwhile he was talking, he waved his right hand in front of the Wookiee, as he had seen Bastila, Jedi and Dark Jedi do."Both of us win, no one loses." His words seemed to, somehow calm the alien down more than usual. But the furry one was too stubborn to let it be: he didn't like humans in general and, though this one didn't seem a threat, he didn't need to like him.

"Mission, let's go: I'm hungry."

"Oooh no! Big Z, I'm not going anywhere. Can't you think about something besides your stomach for more than five minutes? You've just eaten!" Blaze took mental note of that: that Wookiee loved eating! That was great. He now knew how to finish this useless arguing.

"What are you fancy eating?" Mission was now alert: surely, no one had ever treated them to eat.

"What did you say?"

"I've got these 100 credits from this guy." Blaze pointed with his head to the dead Vulkar that was now being carried away by a cleansing droid."He doesn't need them anymore and I need you to repair my communicator, if you can. If Big Z wants to eat, then he'll eat: it's my treat." Both Mission and Z exchanged stunned faces. Is it so rare on this planet to see someone being nice?

"I don't buy it, what's on your head?"Ok, Blaze, this girl is one heck of a pain in the ass. But it means she's smart enough to be a good ally. Show another card.

He now talked a bit lower as not to be heard by others and leaned forward to them. Both friends did the same: they wanted to know what was happening."Listen: as I said before, I'm from the Republic ship that exploded yesterday while it was being attacked on Taris' orbit. This communicator is the only thing that can help me to contact with other survivors and it's most imperative for me to do so. Don't ask me to tell the name: it's been forbidden to me by now, but I have sworn to protect someone's life and I don't even know if she's still alive."

Now was the Wookiee who was being the most interested in the stranger. "Why did you swear that?"

"She saved me. I've been a war prisoner for nearly my entire life and she is the one who freed me. I suppose you can understand that not being able to return that kind of favor is very frustrating." That revelation made them both fall in silence; thinking.

"Mission, I'm not hungry anymore; please, continue what you were doing. I don't know why, but this human seems honest."

…….

Two hours later, Mission had finally opened the comm and had made some improvements on it's repairing, but she had still some work to do. She seemed to, somehow, enjoy the challenge before her, though.

Zaalbar, which was Big Z's actual name, had already eaten three bowls of salad (he hadn't been able to contain himself anymore and had eventually asked Blaze to buy him some food) and was now friendlier than before, filling up the man with some general information about Taris, including all about the Lower City gangs and where he could find free medical assistance. He had also told the merc how to access the Upper levels by the front door in his current state. "I'm impressed: nearly no one bothers to learn Shirywook. Where did you learn it?"

"Well, one of the Sith slaves had a cell next to mine. He was an old Wook. At first, it seemed difficult to me, but I was more than happy to have someone to talk between torture and torture, and he also seemed to enjoy hearing his mother language again." This words took aback Zaalbar.

You can SPEAK Shirywook? No kidding! Only a Wookiee can speak it. Your throat's too tiny, human.

Some blood escaped Blaze's lips and he cleaned it with his right forearm. "Well, I can, but not in this state: Shirywook isn't easy and both my throat and my lungs are too weak for now. If you don't mind, I'll speak it later, someday, when I feel better."

"Yes, as you say, even too enfeebled Wooks can't speak it well: they mix words and it takes a lot of attention to know what they are saying." Sigh. "But, as the elder you talked about, I'd like to hear it again… Even from an outsider's mouth."

"You'll do, someday."

At that moment, Mission rose up from her chair and, with triumphal air, she handed Blaze his comm. "Done. It doesn't have battery, though, so you'll have to recharge it again."

"Where…" The girl cut him down.

"At Janice Nall's Droids and Parts Shop, of course. You simply tell her Mission sent you, and she'll let you recharge it nearly for free: of one credit per communicator." Blaze looked at his pocket: six credits left. He had enough. "Guess it's now mine." Mission waved the screwdriver in front of Blaze and made gesture of putting it in her pocket, but she stopped and looked back to Blaze when he spoke.

"Will it work?"

"Yes, for sure. Who do you think I am?" The Twi'lek expected this to be a real arguing: she had showed no proofs of the functionality of the communicator and it's external appearance didn't encourage to bet about it working; but the man simply smiled, put it in his pocket and got up.

"Well, then, thank you very much. Keep it: you've earned it. Goodbye, both of you." Before exiting the cantina, The mercenary bought a beer can (five credits spent) and put it in his pocket.

Carth must have read the datapad he found in her jacket a few hundred times already:

Name: Wine Vin-Kari. Homeworld: Deralia. Current age: 22. Blood type: A+. Clearance level: Ensign. Combat skills: elite sword-master, basic blaster and rifle training. Tactical training: advanced tactical training successfully passed. Alien languages understood: multiple (current number: unavailable). Number of missions failed: 0. Number of missions successfully done: 0. Number of missions initiated: 1. Current Mission: T.S.

Standard Republic file - dry reading. It didn't have much else to say about the tall and beautiful woman who had spent the last two days drifting from unconsciousness to delirium, and back to unconsciousness. Carth left her datapad on the table and returned to attend her injuries.

She was now laying in one of the two beds of the apartment he had hired out by a ridiculous amount of credits. He was sitting at her side, wetting a handkerchief in cool water and washing her face. Now that the layer of blood was cleaned, he could see that she actually hadn't any scratch or bruise on her face. Her shoulder-length black hair contrasted slightly with her slightly tanned beautiful face, but Carth didn't waste much time admiring her beauty: there were, at least, three big bumps on her head. She surely had been hit there hard three times -one near her forehead and two on the back of her head;- the most recent of them, provably from the crash, had been bleeding until he applied a med pack on it. She surely had multiple cranial traumas, but Carth didn't know where to begin with, so he was now trying to wake her up with the handkerchief.

Whatever she was seeing behind her eyes, it must have been one hell of a nightmare: she wouldn't stop twitching and moving from side to side for more than five minutes running. Tired, he got up to re-read her datafile for umpteenth time when he heard the Ensign gasp and sit up all of a sudden. He turned to see panic in her still semi-awakened face. "He's Coming!" The Dark Jedi that had chased her through half of the ship, I suppose. He decided to remain still and quiet, so she could wake herself up of her nightmare.

She stared around bewildered. When she saw him, she looked like she didn't recognize the person in front of her. "Where… where am I? Who are you?"

"Easy, there," he said. "We're okay for the moment. "I'm Carth Onasi, ex-commander of the Endar Spire. I was with you in the escape pod. Do you remember?"

Her gaze went inward, probably trying to make sense of what happened. "Carth, the one on the communicator. Yes, I remember. You helped me when that Dark Jedi had killed Trask." She put her head in her hands. "But my head hurts when I try to remember before the battle, and everything I can recall seems foggy."

"Well, you've been slipping in and out of consciousness for a couple of days now, so I imagine you're pretty confused about things. We're safe, at least for the moment. We're in an abandoned apartment on Taris. You were banged up pretty bad when our escape pod crashed, but luckily I wasn't seriously hurt.” She couldn't help but wonder herself how that had happened. She experimentally passed a hand over her head and found out she had, at least, three bumps. The one on the forehead must be from that damned alarm shift… “I was able to drag you away from our crash site in all the confusion, and I stumbled onto this abandoned apartment. By the time the Sith arrived on the scene we were long gone."

"I guess I owe you my life, sir. Thank you."

He seemed to get a bit angry. "Hey, I've never left anyone behind on a mission, and I'm not about to start." Carth silenced himself for a second so she could sink his words in her mind. He calmed down. "And… Call me Carth: no 'sir', no 'commander', ok? We need all but to let the Sith know that we are from the Republic."

"Ok, si… I mean, Carth." She saw her datapad on the table near Carth. She pointed it. "Did you read it?"

"Yes, I did: Wine Vin-Kari, expertise in sword fighting, advanced tactical training received and good linguist, also. That's pretty rare in a raw recruit, but it should come in handy while we're stranded here." He handed it to her and she put it in her pocket again.

"Well, Carth, I'll help as much as I can; what's the situation?"

"Taris is under Sith control. Their fleet is orbiting the planet, they've declared martial law and they've imposed a planet-wide quarantine. But I've been in worse spots." He's trying to convince himself: if he's been in worse spots and has survived, he can also survive this one. Predicting her next question, he kept talking. "The planet's one big city, and the deeper you go, the worse it gets. There've been reports of crashed escape pods in the Lower and Under City. One of them might be Bastila's; that's where I'll need the help. Going in there unprepared is suicide, and we're no good to her dead."

Wine rose and picked up the vibroblade. Taking it to the workbench, she pried open the vibration cell and started to make modifications to it. Carth watched her as she worked. She seemed to carry the sword like she was born with one in her hand. Surely, that was how she survived the Spire.

He must have been silent too long, because she turned to look at him. "I'm sorry. Continue, please."

"The Republic's not going to be able to help us - not with the Sith blockade. We're on our own there. Half the Sith fleet's probably looking for her. The good news is that it means a couple common soldiers like us might be able to move about undetected. The second bit of good news is that many of the citizens are armed normally. Apparently, Tarisian nobles still get into duels over petty insults, and we're still talking about the Outer Rim."

"Well, the sooner we start looking, the better. Let's go?" She finished her adjustments, standing up to give the blade an experimental swing. Satisfied, she put it back in it's sheath.

"Good idea. I just hope we do find her." He stared out the grimy window as if he hoped to see Bastila out on the streets below. "I've heard some grim things about Dark Jedi interrogation techniques. They say the Force can do terrible things to a mind. It can wipe away your memories and destroy your very identity."

"I'd sooner not find out if those rumors are true."

"I don't either," Carth admitted. "Alright, soldier, let's move out. We could start from the cantinas, but we should return here before one o'clock."

"Why's that"

"I've received a DCSM signal, there's another survivor who crashed in the Lower City. He said he'd come here and he estimated it would take him three hours to arrive."

"Three hours… One o'clock… That would be half an hour ago!"

"Yes, you missed the transmission by only twenty minutes."They both headed to the door and Carth was about to open it, but he heard her talking and decided to wait until she had finished.

"Carth…"

"Yeah?"

"What's DCSM?

"Oh, it means 'Dialing in Controlled Security Mode'. It uses a normal radio-frequency, but the speakers talk about random things and mix with their words some key ones that mean what they really want to communicate. Only officers or level-two clearance civilians above know how to decipher it and it's cod changes of every mission."

"So, it means he's either an officer or one of the Jedi, doesn't it?"

"For sure."

Blaze had finally arrived to and old apartment complex in a small street of the Upper City and was now limping through it's main corridor, using a durasteel pipe he had found before as a crutch, searching for the right door. I should've gone to see doctor Zelka as Zaalbar had advised me, but this is more important. My wounds have already started to heal, I can feel it: the worst scratches in my thorax have closed and some of the burns don't hurt anymore. Now, gathering allies to search Bastila is the most important thing to do. That officer must be my only hope.

As he was limping and thinking, he stepped onto some damp floor and an elder voice called him from backwards. "Hey, you! Wa, wa, watch where you are stepping on! I, I, I've just cleaned that floor!"Perfect! Now, the the cleanser's lecture! I'm tired of this. Maybe should I kick this asshole's ass?

Blaze turned to see an old man dressed with poor, old robes. His hair was snow white and his face showed that the years of hardworking hadn't treated him well. He had a damp handkerchief in his right hand and a bucket full of water next to him. Blaze didn't know why but he remembered Bastila lecturing him about having to be nice, especially to elders. Well, I suppose this old asshole's also an elder… Calm down and be nice, Blaze. He could still be of help. He sighted and tried to take a deep breath, but he couldn't: all he could breathe was a quarter of the normal for him. Darn! Must have something more serious than I thought in my lungs… Maybe internal hemorrhage? Must find that officer quickly; better ask the old man. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't see it."Blaze stepped, as he could, out of the wet floor.

The old man seemed to be in good mood: he didn't complain anymore about the young one."Ooh, I suppose it's nothing to worry about: I'm used to it, and you seem friendlier than most people around here. My name's Kadir, I'm the janitor here." Just then, the silver haired human realized about the many scars and how much blood was covering the other one. He could tell as well that the left leg had to be broken. And, by how the younger was moving, it seemed that the arm wasn't too well, either."Uh… Are you hurt? You should really go to see Doctor Zelka: he's a good man and he'll provably heal you for a very low prize."

"No, thanks. I'm here searching for someone. Do you know by chance where does the new human stay on this building?"

"The new human, you say? Oh, yes, you must be talking about the new couple. Yes, yes, they arrived a couple of days ago. They seem to be here stuck by the quarantine, as some other people. The woman is very nice and sympathetic; though she's been unconscious until a few hours ago, she's been very friendly to everyone since then."

A couple of days? That's when the Spire was attacked! Must be the officer. "Yep, they are my friends. Could you tell me where do they stay? I've got to meet them at one o'clock."

"At one o'clock, you say?" The janitor took a look on his watch. "But it's a quarter to one yet, you arrive early."

A quarter to one? Good, the officer said he would be there before one o'clock: he'll be there."Yes, I know, but I'm a bit in a hurry."

"Well, then, If you're looking for their apartment, just go to the second floor and head to the north. The third door on the right is theirs."

"You have my thanks."

…….

By when Blaze had reached the door, his state was even worse: his leg hurt like a hell, he had to take quick, short breaths and his vision was now a blur, he couldn't see well: shades, shapes, colors, but no more. He heard some noise inside the apartment and realized that someone was inside. For what I hear, two sentients: a male and a female. Probably humans. They must have just eaten: I can still smell it. I only hope they are not Sith…

Carth and Wine had returned early: they had only gone to the cantina, where Wine bought a Pazaak deck and some food, and to the Equipment Emporium, where Carth had bought medpacks and grenades. They were already finishing eating and were now chatting a bit.

Suddenly, Wine stopped talking and turned her head to the left, towards the door. She unsheathed her vibroblade."Have you heard that?"

"Nope. What did you hear?"

"I don't know exactly who, but there's someone behind our door." The door beeped to point that it was going to open and Carth also reached for his blasters while Wine mentally cursed herself.Damn! We didn't lock it! She swung her vibrosword with her right hand, placed it above her head pointing to the door, the left hand extended. She balanced her weight on her right foot and put her left one forward as she had done in each battle before. It was her favorite stance: The blade was in good position both for attack and defend, and her feet were in the perfect place to give her both a solid balance and a good position to kick and evade the blows; Also, her left hand was in a dominative stance, which usually served to intimidate the enemy and use it to fight. From the corner of her eye, she saw that Carth had taken cover the way Trask had done when they had constructed the barricade before the bridge, both weapons at the ready.

The door opened and they both were prepared for a Sith ambush, Carth behind the table for cover, Wine next to the door, where her sword skills would serve better (still, she wouldn't attack first: the 'wait for the first blow' technique had served her well). In front of them appeared the last vision they were waiting for: a man on his early twenties, brown haired and with the most quantity of scratches and stains of blood Wine had ever seen. It reminded Carth of how was Wine when he carried her out of the escape pod; with some exceptions: he was conscious, some blood was on his eyes (he surely didn't see well by now), his left arm was falling limp, with little movement, and his left leg was resting on an odd angle. Carth noticed, too, that the man was carrying a large metal pipe, probably as a crutch.

By the expression of his face, Wine could tell he was bewildered, surely because he didn't expect them both at the ready for the battle. That expression though, changed sudden and immediately to full fury. A strange medallion that was strapped on his chest started to shine in full red as he did so: a full bright, shiny red.

With the pipe in his right hand, he moved his left leg very quickly backwards so it was both covered from their fire and out of his way. He, then, swung the pipe very fast and, while doing so, he changed his grip on it so the larger part of the pipe was pointing back. His right leg semi-crouched in a defensive, lateral stance that also served to cover his left arm and put the right one more at the ready to battle, which was now in an horizontal position, just above his waist. The pipe that had served him of crutch was now being used both as a shield and a weapon, in a stance that Wine could see was the best one for his condition. All that had happened in less than a second.

His voice, though she could see he wasn't breathing well, was a loud, inhuman, guttural growl. "I'm not going down without a fight, you Sith!" Sith? Us? What's he talking about? She could see Carth had been also taken aback by that.

The unknown man remained in his position waiting for them to attack first, but Carth couldn't believe his ears. "Wait, what did you call us?" The intruder continued quiet, awaiting for the first blow. It was evident that he had decided they were his enemies and that the only thing that mattered was the battle.

Wine decided to interfere: if the Sith were his enemies, then he could surely be their ally. "We're no Sith. Are you a Republic sympathizer?"

When he heard that, he spat blood to her feet."You'll gain nothing with lies, Sith scum!" It was evident that just words wouldn't change his mind. The woman decided to try and disarm him: perhaps being unarmed would open his mind to conversation… She waved her left hand to Carth telling him to not fire, the response was an affirmative nod of understanding.

She led the offensive, seeing all Carth's moves in slow motion, as she had in her every combat. The other one, though, didn't move until she was doing a vertical swing with her vibroblade: he moved as fast as she and blocked the attack just above of his head, his body very close to hers, her vibroblade having been barely three inches away of his right shoulder and both of them started to push against the other's block. This position would be great for him if his left arm or leg were healthy, but I should be able to win in his current state. She didn't see it coming: he butt her nose strong and, while she was backing due to the pain, he stabbed her abdomen with the point of his pipe. It didn't cut, but it hurt. As the pain made her crouch, she saw his opponent had changed again the grip on his pipe and was now using the same swing of the change to do a downward attack, directly to her head… She blocked it just in time.

Carth was admiring the ferocity and agility of the battle: now, Wine had tried to kick her opponent off-balance of his healthy foot, but he had just jumped backwards. A wave of intense pain had crossed his face when he had leaned his weight on his broken leg for support, but the battle didn't cease. Both fighters exchanged blows and blocked every attack of the other. This was nearly a never ending battle. Battle? Nooo, it doesn't seem like a battle: I'd say it's more like a dance: a very synchronized dance. Impressive. They don't do any redundant movement: every swing, every step, every slash, it all contributes to the next blow or block. But, I think I know who has the upper hand: neither of them shows signs of fatigue, but this guy can't even breathe properly: the single fact of fighting so hard will end quickly his stamina, no matter how much he has.

Thought and done, the male duelist didn't resist more, and he knew it: before passing out, he did a desperate move and charged with complete ferocity, a swing directed in diagonal that was supposed to break Wine's collar bone, or anything sent to shield it.

Wine had already predicted this movement: she stepped to the side on the last moment and tripped him up with her foot. The injured body did a complete somersault and he landed with his back to the floor, unconscious. Wine took the metal pipe and examined it. "This pipe's meant to simply conduct water! It's very heavy and unbalanced, how could he fight so well in his current state with that? His state… We should heal him, or he won't see another sunrise."