Chapter 10
Point Nadir turned out to be even more massive and varied than Foyi had initially expected of the unassuming comet. Rayf led her through the winding tunnels opening into enormous and heavily-occupied caverns as they followed the trail their unwilling "informant" had prescribed for them, leading to a tavern named "The Cruelest Cut". Foyi definitely did not like the sound of any place with such a name, but she was not surprised scum like Ak-vir Vri would spend time in such a disreputable place, judging by what little Rayf had told her regarding the cantina.
They were passing through a section of the spaceport locally known as the Trade District, which geographically was not far from the Slips, where the hangars were located. Thus, the majority of edifices that called this district home were warehouses and storage sites for cargo pulled from incoming starships, or waiting for their own voyages across the stars. The warehouses varied in size and complexity depending on who owned them, with those run by the Anjiliac Clan obvious in their heavy, durasteel structures and large blast doors, guarded by several heavily-armed guards, most of whom were Houks. There was not an extensive amount of pedestrian traffic, as was prevalent in more densely populated sections of the port, though the streets were wide and kept relatively clean of debris, offal, and waste. Occasional landspeeders and cargo transports driven by humanoids or droids trundled through the streets, laden with cargo to be stored or offloaded through the winding tunnels that led back to the Slips. The guards stationed at each warehouse and storage container eyed the pair suspiciously as they passed within view of the streetlamps, though neither the Twi'lek or human dared stride close enough to initiate a conversation. No doubt some of their activities since arriving in Point Nadir were already gaining them attention they could do without, as they had had to rough up more than a few thugs in order to track down the habitual recreational places of Captain Vri and his crew. And though no one had stopped them or otherwise accosted them, neither Foyi nor Rayf wished to create any altercations that would further slow their advance upon their target.
They crossed the Trade District, the only difficulty in their trek being nearly run over by an airspeeder driven by a Rodian who appeared less than sober. The Rodian chattered some angry curses at them in Huttese, and continued across the street, slowing the vehicle too late and sliding into the door of a warehouse hard enough to crumple one of its repulsor pads. The guards standing watch at that warehouse dived out of the way, then picked themselves up and began a shouting match with the Rodian. As Rayf hurried past without even noting the altercation, Foyi looked back over her shoulder long enough to see the Rodian shout something the guards found most disagreeable, judging by the fact that an immensely muscular Nautolan hauled him bodily from the speeder's seat and threw him on the ground, where the other guards proceeded in clubbing him with the stocks of their blaster rifles. She felt the briefest inclination, born of her Zeison Sha training, to intervene and help the outnumbered Rodian. But her fear for her sister overrode her momentary concern for the Rodian. Besides, came the miniscule voice of darkness in the recesses of her mind. The murglak nearly ran you over and was vapebrained enough to run into a building instead of stopping. He deserves it.
The warehouses and storage containers of the Trade District gave way to an expansive, roughly-hewn wall of stone, honeycombed with openings and passageways, rising above and to either side of them in rough tiers, denoting a set of interior levels. There was more pedestrian traffic on this end of the district, humanoids and sentient beings walking in and out of the infrequent openings, like Killiks entering and exiting their hive. The beings here were a whole menagerie of species, though there were marked similarities between all of them Foyi noted immediately. Most of them wore armor that was as encompassing as possible without fully sacrificing range of motion; the most impressive of these were the pair of Mandalorians that walked through the opening before her and Rayf, not even bothering to turn their heads to regard the human and Twi'lek. Everyone around this area was armed with entire arrays of weaponry, usually sporting multiple blaster pistols, carbines, and rifles, as well as a menagerie of melee weapons, from ryyk blades to vibroswords to force pikes. And no one was traveling alone; they were in small groups ranging from a pair to a dozen or more, as if the region ahead was constantly being claimed and counterclaimed by every smalltime gang that existed on the comet.
Rayf paused outside one of the openings, his head on a swivel as he reestablished his bearings. Foyi eased up beside him, her hand unconsciously reaching for the weapons strapped across her back. She could feel the tension in this place, the echoes of dark deeds and violent deaths so palpable, she swore she tasted blood on the back of her tongue. Rayf looked down at her with a grim but determined expression on his face. "Well...this is where The Cruelest Cut is. In The Nest."
"What's 'The Nest'?"
"It's where all the mercenaries, pirates, slavers, assassins, war criminals, and other people you don't want to meet on a street in broad daylight go, looking for work and recreation. It's probably the single most dangerous place in all Point Nadir."
As if to accentuate his assertion, they heard blasterfire from the tunnel opening ahead of them, echoing as if from a great distance. The blasterfire came in a roar of short, staccato bursts that abruptly ended. There was a scream of someone in pain, yelling incoherently from the agony of a mortal wound, which was silenced by a single, final blaster shot. Foyi listened for a few moments more, and looked back up at Rayf. "Then we'll just be extra careful."
Rayf scoffed. "Force preserve us..." he muttered in response. Foyi cast him a wry grin and walked past her human companion, bravely being the first to step through the threshold of that yawning, dark opening. Rayf followed shortly behind, maneuvering beside her that he might better direct their passage through the dark, claustrophobic tunnels beyond. Foyi had the impression that she had entered the burrow or underground colony of large, digging creatures, the tunnels having no intelligent structure or organization readily apparent. They twisted back in on themselves, opening into intersections with dozens of different routes to take, or meandering on winding paths, only to lead back to where the tunnel originally diverged. Once again, Foyi found herself at a loss concerning navigation, but Rayf seemed to inherently know where they were going, as if he had been born here, and lived here all his life. They passed a pair of bodies lying in one tunnel, an Anzati and an Aqualish prostrate in pools of their own coagulating blood, their bodies nearly unrecognizable due to the prevalence of blaster burns. As with the others who roamed the tunnels on matters of their own, the pair ignored the corpses, though Foyi would be dishonest with herself if she pretended that the carnage did not unsettle her.
They passed dozens of doors, some opening into other tunnels, some into small alcoves and warrens with jagged walls, others being the portals into large chambers holding businesses and establishments. Most of these businesses belonged to the shady side of moneymaking; Foyi saw advertising for arms dealers, spice peddlers, bounty offices, and private army contractors. She was careful not to linger or stare too long at any of the businesses they passed, as well as the armed travelers in the dim confines. The air was charged with tension, as if the very walls had violent tendencies they barely kept in check.
Suddenly, Rayf halted in front of one of the doorways, the opening containing no door of any kind. A flickering holo sign above the door spelled out the establishment's name in Aurebesh and Huttese characters, but Foyi did not need to read the sign to know they had arrived at their destination. Without further ado, the two of them stepped into the cantina's dark confines, and Foyi could not suppress a gasp as she stepped through the door, as The Cruelest Cut was the largest and most overwhelming tavern she had ever set foot into. Before them, the floor sloped down in a short set of stairs cut roughly into the stone at their feet, leading down into the main area of the cantina, which held dozens of tables, some of which were specially designed for dejarik, sabacc, and other games of skill and chance. In the center of it all stood a bar with a dizzying array of alcoholic beverages from all corners of the galaxy, staffed by a trio of Twi'lek women garbed in sleek, shimmersilk dresses that exposed large amounts of cleavage and thighs. They smiled, giggled, and chattered endlessly with customers as they manipulated a gleaming automixer. Along the back wall, screens and holograms displayed live broadcasts of the Circus Horrificus, bloody gladiatorial duels in the Cauldron on Rattatak, and elaborate arena executions on Geonosis. There were stairs along the outer walls, leading up to a second story which was little more than a balcony ringing the perimeter of the main room, and several tunnels in the back led off into other rooms that were part of the cantina complex. Up near the towering ceiling, she also glimpsed several booths with one-way glass windows, allowing the unseen occupants to view the entire cantina floor from their lofty positions. The ululations of drunken shouts and off-tune shanties blended with the sound of fist striking flesh and bone, as well as the hyperactive commentary coming from the livefeeds at the back of the room. The smell of burning spice, spilled alcohol, alien sweat, urine, and ozone mixed with the wafting trails of smoke and odors that drifted through the room. The sights, sounds, and smells were nearly overwhelming, and she found herself standing still for a moment as she tried to process The Cruelest Cut.
A Wookiee with two bowcasters slung across his back and a ryyk blade at his belt shoved past Rayf and Foyi, growling a vicious insult in Shyriiwook that Foyi did not understand the exact meaning of but got the general idea. She hurried down the stone steps after the Wookiee, Rayf beside her, and the pair slid into an unoccupied booth that still had a small assortment of used wrappers and empty glasses across its surface. In such a place as this, their continued anonymity and physical health would not benefit from standing in the way and being jostled by irritable and trigger-happy mercenaries just itching for a fight.
Rayf pulled out his personal comlink and holoprojector, and a tap of a few keys brought the hologram of the Weequay they were looking for, courtesy of a Snivvian they had left with a broken nose. The holo showed a man who was fit and tall, with a dangerous tilt to his stance that was apparent even when he was represented by a hologram a decimeter in height. He had a striped bandana across his forehead, scars on his nose, and a wampa pelt forming a sort of cape over his long jacket and tight pants. He was grinning in the holo, though the expression was predatory in nature, devoid of friendliness or mirth. Foyi could not help but feel revulsion, anger, and a niggling shred of hatred whenever she viewed the hologram. Rayf switched the holo off, as he had merely pulled it out to remind himself of the physical appearance of the being they were hunting. He looked surreptitiously over his shoulder at the shifting crowd of local toughs and interstellar ruffians, while Foyi was actively searching the crowd with her eyes, attempting to spot a single Weequay amongst dozens of specimens of that species and others. Foyi gave an impatient growl and rubbed her eyes, temporarily reminded that she had hardly slept at all in nearly a week. "There's so many...this is gonna take awhile to find him. Let's go 'ask' someone where Vri is."
Rayf motioned for the perturbed Twi'lek to sit back down. He dropped his voice low enough that only she could hear. "This isn't the place to be knocking heads, as we're much more likely to to get our teeth bashed in. Or miss a few limbs or vital organs. Everyone in here is looking for a fight, and while some are content to watch, a lot more are perfectly happy to get involved in one personally." He looked back over his shoulder again, toward the back of the room, where the faint noises of cheers, shouts, and whoops could be heard. "I suggest checking out the fight pits. He's probably watching one of the gladiator death duels in the other rooms."
Foyi craned her neck to get a better view of the circular openings along the furthest wall, though she could see nothing through their passageways in the dim light and distance. She reached out with her feelings, her senses, attempting to connect to Tama, fearful that it was for the gladiatorial arenas and the bloodthirsty crowds that her sister had been drug from her home on Yanibar. But she did not feel a hint of Tama's presence, though the confusing morass of Force signatures seeped in rage, deadly intent, and desperation could definitely be considered heady and disorienting. Not wishing to wait around any longer than necessary, Foyi pushed herself away from the booth, standing and winding her way through the crowd shifting about the floor, her purposeful stride carrying her to the farthest wall. Rayf hurried to catch up, but Foyi needed no direction to find the gladiatorial pits; she could practically taste the blood being spilled from the tunnel the farthest to the left. The tunnel wound back and forth for ten meters or so, tiny glowstrips in the ceiling providing an eerie illumination. The tunnel opened into another large room, constructed similarly to the main room of the cantina, with a second-floor balcony ringing the amorphous cavern, looking down upon the central area. In the center of the floor was a sizable pit, about ten to fifteen meters in diameter and five meters deep, its depth and the crowd arrayed around it preventing her from seeing inside. There was a dense, clamoring crowd standing and shoving about the pit's observation railing, screaming alternating words of encouragement or hatred. The room was cramped and cluttered, nearly jam-packed with beings all attempting to get close enough to view the fight below, which Foyi could only perceive as a series of pained growls and the thunderous emanations of heavy limbs or weapons striking unyielding flesh or armor.
Foyi let a pair of Sullustans eagerly shove past her, her gaze taking in all the sights and sentients present in a blur of faces and bodies. She looked up to the second-story balcony, which was similarly crowded but not as hectic, as those who were stationed above had a much more advantageous view of the fight occurring in the pit. Her eyes were inexorably drawn to the single largest occupant of that balcony, a being with a preferential seat on a protruding portion of the second-floor, which allowed him to be directly above the action below. Foyi had never actually seen a Hutt before, but the species was unmistakable, with the large, mollusk body and the grotesque, slouching face containing heavy-lidded, reptilian eyes and a massive slit for a mouth, as if someone had taken a jagged vibroblade to the creature's face. The Hutt sitting above, and presumably presiding over, the fight was a greenish-ochre in coloration, and his large, cruel eyes were so orange in hue, they were nearly scarlet. He lounged upon a dais that disappeared beneath his prodigious bulk, a bored expression on his face, as if the duel to the death occurring below him were just another tedious affair in his daily routine. Arrayed around him, some seated, some standing, were an assortment of hardened guards with cold, attentive expressions on their faces. They consisted of Houks and Nikto, accompanied by a snarling Barabel and a fearsome Wookie with black and gray fur. But even as Foyi's gaze searched their faces and reluctantly drug itself away from the spectacle of the Hutt, she saw a Weequay sitting with the rest of the Hutt's entourage, a Weequay whose appearance she already knew well, thanks to the holo supplied them.
Rayf came to her side and followed her gaze, which had gone dark with inner considerations of violence. He also stared at the Hutt for a moment, though his expression showed recognition rather than awe, but he soon sighted Ak-vir Vri sitting beside the giant mollusk and let a smile curve his lips. "There's our Weequay. Looks like someone's in good with Yuelo..."
Foyi began to stride for the stairs that would lead up to the second level, barely restraining herself from running to her destination, shoving sentients out of her way with rough hands or minor mental suggestions. But Rayf hurried to follow, and wrenched her to a stop with a firm grip on her upper arm, which caused her to whirl on him, her free hand closed in a fist. "Woah, slow down there, Foyi. I get it that you're new to the place and all, but you can't just walk up to a Hutt's private booth without an invite...or a blaster wound. Especially not during one of Yuelo's organized fights...he will skin us alive if we interrupt this."
Foyi gave him a perturbed look. "What happened to doing some good in the galaxy? To not letting the thugs and gangsters ruin life for people?"
Rayf threw up his hands in a defensive gesture. "Hey, nothing's changed, alright? But we can't help your sister if we're both dead."
Foyi looked off to the side, biting her lip, the roar of the crowd mixing with a shrill scream of pain from the pit below. Her angry, frustrated gaze was drawn upward, focusing on the hateful face of Ak-vir Vri. Weequay were difficult to read, but it did not take someone more familiar with the species of the galaxy to see the glee on his face as he alternated between shouts and jeers, his dark eyes fixated upon the blood match below. Unconsciously, she found herself sinking beneath the waves of the Force, not heeding the initial thoughts of hesitation when she found those waves both dark and insidious. She did not feel fear at the prospect of the Dark Side, so often lately lapping at the very perimeters of her consciousness. It was a simple thing to touch upon the revolting, simplistic mind of Ak-vir Vri, to feel his excitement at the brutality encouraged in the "sport" below him, his subconscious discomfort with being in such close proximity to the Hutt beside him, his errant fantasies regarding all the expensive, illicit, and lewd things he might spend his recently earned credits on. Foyi concentrated, but could find no stray thoughts, impressions, or images regarding Tama. He placed so little value on life that the faces of the slaves he had delivered and brokered only hours before had smeared themselves into vaguely humanoid blurs of half-remembered images. This blurry canvas of thought was intrinsically tied to the stacks of credits he visualized in much greater detail and importance; to him, the beings he had kidnapped and ruined the lives of merely translated into pure profit for himself. He was not even remotely concerned for the material wealth or wellbeing of his crew, which spoke to the kind of captain he was.
She had heard legends of Force powers employed by all forms of Force-users throughout the eons, powers that let them reach into the minds of foes to extract the darkest of sins, to fill their thoughts with horrendous visions of fear and insanity, to have them scream in imagined pain or practically beg to reveal confidential information. And while, as a Zeison Sha Warrior, her telepathic abilities were considerable, she had little practical usage in this aspect of the Force beyond mind tricks or communication. But there was always more to learn.
Foyi let go of her conscious self, sinking deep into the Force, concentrating her searching, heady waves upon Ak-Vir Vri. Instead of trying to force her consciousness upon him, to crack his brain open like a beelpop melon and spill its contents, Foyi slowly wormed her way into his thoughts, nestling in the area of little attention he paid to his own bodily functions. She placed a sensation of pressure in his groin, one that grew in accordance with her urging. Initially, Ak-vir's determination to focus on the gladiatorial duel below overrode the miniscule measure of attention he paid to the call of nature, but Foyi was insistent, sinking more deeply into the Force, penetrating Ak-vir's mind on a primal, base level and increasing the imaginary pressure to unbearable levels. Ak-vir's mind finally shifted its focus and darkened with anger, annoyance, and discomfort. The Twi'lek opened her eyes and stared up at the balcony, allowing herself a sadistic smile as Ak-vir levered himself out of the seat beside the Hutt, his mouth moving in unheard curses as he began to shove through the chairs and crowds toward the stairs that would lead back to the ground floor. Rayf gave her an impressed glance as the Weequay inevitably made his way within striking distance of the two Force-wielders. "I felt you using the Force on Vri...what'd you do to him?"
"He thinks that he really needs to pee," Foyi replied. She began to wend through the shifting, contorting masses, choosing a path that would bisect Ak-vir's own. The Weequay pounded down the stairs and past the pair of Houks who minded them, not even acknowledging the guards as he hurried for a tunnel in the back with a glowing sign marking it as the refresher. He growled as he shoved against the flow of the crowd, using one hand to clear the way, the other clutching his groin, certain that if he did not make it to the refreshers within the next few minutes, he would lose the contents of his bladder upon the floor. The Weequay stumbled into the refresher, which was currently unoccupied, and hobbled over to one of the stained urinals lining the rough-hewn stone wall. He paused there, opening his fly and sighing heavily as both Foyi and Rayf shoved through the door into the same room. Ak-vir did not even acknowledge their presences as he finished relieving himself, while Foyi waited patiently by the sink and sanitizer, and Rayf positioned himself beside the door. Ak-vir made a thick, phlegmy sound in the back of his throat and spat a wad of mucus into the urinal, then stepped away from it, readjusting his belt and striding straight toward the door. But he halted in the middle of the room as he saw the human standing in his way, and his dark gaze slid to regard Foyi's presence with surprise. His stare flicked back and forth between the two of them, suspicion growing in that regard. "What're you two doin' here? Wha', can't a man piss in peace in this galaxy anymore?"
"Ak-vir Vri?" Rayf asked, refusing to remove himself from in front of the door.
"That's being me, mate. You seem ta know me well, so if that's being the case, ya oughta know that I'm not a man ya wanna stand in between meself an' a good fight. Tha's what yer doin' right now, an' I'm having none o' it."
Foyi stepped closer to the Weequay, the fury in her eyes so fierce that Ak-vir took an inadvertent step back. "I don't care how big and scary you think you are, sleemo. You took my sister from me. You will give her back, or you will not leave this 'fresher alive."
Ak-vir's brow furrowed in murderous intent. "Look, schutta, I don' have the slightest clue wha' yer gibberin' about. You wanna keep that pretty tongue where it belongs, I suggest ya stop waggin' it about an' making up all kinda lies."
Foyi's hand came up, the air itself seeming to twist as something unseen wrung it like a wet rag. Ak-vir suddenly gasped, his hands coming up to his throat, clawing at his collar as if it were strangling him. Foyi took another step forward, her gaze no longer brimming with anger; it had dropped into a cold, almost emotionless stare. Rayf bit his lower lip, unsure of how to react, but he forced himself to remain standing in front of the door, letting this play out, though he could feel the cold taint of the Dark Side beginning to waft off of Foyi's deceptively small frame. Ak-vir collapsed to his knees as the Force Choke restricted his oxygen, deep, wracking coughs erupting from his constricted trachea. Foyi finally drew within a meter of the slaver and dropped to a squat, her hand making a tighter pinching motion as her voice dropped to a cold, calm tone. "Ak-vir...it doesn't have to be this way, no matter how much I would prefer it. This can stop...right here. Right now. All you have to do is tell me what you did with my sister. Her name is Tama; you took her from her home on Yanibar. I'm certain you remember; it wasn't that long ago."
Ak-vir made a squeaking, wheezing sound as he attempted to say something. There was a slight popping noise in the base of his throat. Foyi craned her neck, moving her head closer to Ak-vir's flapping lips. "Oh? You have something worth saying now?" Her hand opened wider, and the pressure on Ak-vir's throat lessened enough for him to speak in a raspy, ragged voice.
"I know...nothin' what you speak of, brain-tails..."
Her fingers closed again, and Ak-vir gave a cry as the telekinetic fist on his throat clamped down with a sudden violence. His hands clawed at his throat and his chest as well, and he fell to the floor, convulsing, arcing his back in anguish. Foyi remained in her squatting position, the expression on her face no longer cold, but fierce, even elated. "You feel that pressure in your chest now? The pain? I can crush your heart with my mind, Ak-vir. I can cause spasms in your lungs, create hemorrhaging in all your internal organs, your body cavity filling with blood as you slowly bloat and die. I can find so many creative ways for you to die, Ak-vir Vri, more than enough of them I'm sure you deserve." She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a frigid whisper. "You understand what I'm capable of? What I am?"
Ak-vir struggled through the lessened pressure on his throat, grunting over the pain of the Force knifing through his chest. "You're...you're a Jeedai..."
Foyi's expression twisted into a snarl as she lashed out at him through the Force, increasing the pressure on his throat, on his lungs. "I am not a Jedi! You only wish I was a Jedi...'cause a Jedi is too weak to kill you right here, right now!"
"Foyi!," Rayf shouted, coming forward. He had had enough, and he would not let his newfound compatriot fall into the darkness. Her head whipped around so fast her lekku spun about her shoulders like wings, her gaze so fierce and dark he worried for a moment that he would have to defend himself. He kept his voice calm, only marginally aware that his hand had subconsciously reached for the dagger-like tip of his wan-shen. "He can't tell us anything if he's dead. Or when he's choking. Please, Foyi, think of Tama; think of your sister. Don't cross that line."
Rayf could see the conflict on her features. Part of her wanted to utterly destroy Ak-vir right now, to sup on the vengeance she believed was owed her. But the other part realized the Weequay's importance to her sister's whereabouts and continued survival. And as Rayf watched, Ak-vir began to breathe somewhat easier, and the anger etching her features softened and faded. Ak-vir dropped to her knees and elbows, hacking and heaving as he gulped in large swallows of air. Foyi kept her voice hard and brittle, however, and her expression unyielding. "Are you ready to talk, scum?"
Ak-vir nodded slightly. "I...she's not worth alla this. I—I'll tell ya wha' ya wanna know..."
But before he could continue, the door at Rayf's back suddenly swung open, admitting a pair of Houks, the same two who had been guarding the staircase leading up to the Hutt's viewing platform. One of the Houks was already speaking halfway through the door, addressing the Weequay they had come to find. "Hey, Captain, Yuelo wants to know if your done kriffing around in here. You're missing the fi-" His sentence trailed off when his small eyes took in the sight of Ak-vir lying on the floor, the Twi'lek girl squatting beside him, and the human standing, overseeing it all. There was a moment of tense, anticipatory silence between those gathered as each group evaluated the other.
Rayf was the first to spring into action, the dagger blade seemingly materializing in his hand, while his other hand reached behind him, and in a blur of motion, began reattaching the shaft parts to the blade, forming his wan-shen. Despite his unnatural speed, one of the Houks had already raised his blaster and fired, though with little actual aim, and the bolt went wide, burrowing into the stone on the far wall. Foyi was also springing into action, her discblade leaping from its sheathe and slapping into her palm as her hand came forward, hurling the weapon across the intervening space. The discblade embedded itself in the chest armor of the Houk who had been speaking, the force of the telekinetic throw blowing him back out of the door, though the thickness of the Houk's armor made it doubtful the discblade had penetrated far enough to score a fatal blow. Meanwhile, Rayf's weapon had already whirled about the Houk who had fired first in a multitude of slashes and stabs, some of which cut into the bindings and fasteners of his armor, exposing vulnerabilities for quick, precise, and devastating stabs. The Houk gave a bellow as blood spurted from the half-dozen wounds he had already suffered, but he remained standing, as if frozen stiff by his pain, before Rayf finished him off with a ferocious stab to the sternum.
But he had no time to rest, for the other Houk came barreling through the door, having pulled the discblade from his armor and chucking it awkwardly at Rayf. His wan-shen came up to intercept the wobbling missile, deflecting it behind him to the waiting hands of Foyi, but that was all he had time to accomplish before the Houk's full weight slammed into him. Rayf went flying against the edge of the sink, which dug into his spine painfully as the Houk fell upon him. His weapon, being a polearm, was too lengthy to be useful at such a close proximity, and his momentary surprise and the lack of oxygen in his lungs rendered him momentarily defenseless to the Houk's solid strike to Rayf's jaw with the stock of his blaster. Rayf blocked another punch, wheezing, and attempted to push the Houk off of him, but the alien's bulk was far too heavy and massive.
There was a sudden rippling of air, like a focused, gale-force wind. It struck the Houk in the side and lifted him bodily from his feet, where he was slammed into the wall beside the doorway. The Houk growled in shock as he attempted to regain his balance, but Foyi sped across the room faster than naturally powerful, her discblade clutched in hand. With a snarl of rage, the Force surging through her motions, Foyi leapt upon the Houk's sizable chest, clinging to him like an energy spider straddling a web of glitterstim. Her fist came down and slammed the discblade through the fleshy part between the Houk's throat and sternum, then ripped the blade away, opening an enormous wound in the humanoid's chest. She leapt back and to the floor, letting the Houk slide down the wall, plunging into the void of death.
Foyi turned back to the refresher's interior just in time to be bowled over by Ak-vir Vri, shoving her aside as he sprinted for the door. Foyi cried out as she hit the unyielding stone floor, though her cry was more in anger and denial as the Weequay fled the room. Rayf, still gasping, attempted to lunge forward and stop him in his tracks, but he was still disoriented and in pain from the heavy punches and strikes that he had received, and he inadvertently tripped over the Twi'lek. They tumbled together in a heap, but quickly extricated themselves, both springing to their feet, falling into the Force to regain their equilibrium. "He's...getting away!" Foyi gasped.
"I know!" Rayf yelled back.
Foyi rushed through the door and into the crowd beyond, into the thunderous din and shifting bodies. Ak-vir Vri was easy to identify, as he was not trying to be stealthy or blend in, having no compunctions about knocking beings over who were in his way, and generally causing a ruckus as he shoved, punched, and kicked his way through the crowd. There were already guards from the level above running down the stairs, looking about to see what the commotion was. A few of those guards saw the two of them emerging from the refresher, and fingers and blasters were leveled their way.
"Duck!" Rayf shouted a moment before the air filled with laserfire. Both he and Foyi dropped to the floor as screams erupted in the crowd, and bodies began to fall, either from beings similarly dodging for cover or receiving grievous wounds from stray blaster bolts. The cacophonous atmosphere took on another tone entirely, from exuberance to abject fear. Foyi and Rayf pressed themselves off the ground and scurried forward, keeping low as blaster bolts flew all about them, leaping or tripping over sprawled forms as they attempted to follow the path taken by the fleeing Weequay, which led them toward the door out of that section of the cantina. Foyi dived over a cowering Mon Calamari, her eyes never leaving Vri's retreating back. But her inattention to her immediate surroundings and details proved to be her downfall, for a female Devaronian suddenly rose in her path in an attempt to flee from the firezone. The Devaronian's slim form came into contact with Foyi's shins, and her momentum carried her up and over the woman, throwing Foyi into an uncontrollable somersault. She lost her grip on her discblade, felt her blasters spin off her back, and she was suddenly in open air, falling through space. She had no time to even consider how far her fall might be, or when she would hit the bottom of the drop from whence she had tumbled, before she fell hard on her side, blasting the wind from her lungs and shooting glistening lights and darkness through her vision.
Foyi came to awareness violently, as her body was slung across a smooth, wet floor to slam against a cool, metal wall. The impact of the fall had knocked her unconscious for only a moment, but something had woken her again by throwing her against another unyielding surface. She let out a gasp of pain, and instinctively dived into the Force, letting it take over her actions, reviving and rejuvenating her, giving her the strength needed to spring back to her feet. Her vision cleared enough to see a humanoid shape charging her, and only a stumbling sidestep saved her from being mashed against the wall behind her. She stumbled backward, more to gain space and an appraisal of her attacker than to regain her balance. The humanoid ran bodily into the wall hard enough to make the metal squeal, which would have severely injured any other average humanoid, but a quick visual assessment revealed this creature to be a Barabel. Foyi knew them by reputation alone, one which was no doubt earned, considering how truly formidable the being before her appeared. The Barabel was a hulking sentient with scaly musculature both slim and graceful in the way it rippled over his flesh, over two meters in length if he were to stand up straight. His large, bald, ridged head contained a protruding brow, casting shadows over his bloodshot, yellow eyes. His maw opened and closed as if chewing on something, his five centimeter fangs flecked with fresh blood, his thick tongue lolling. His powerful arms ended in club-like hands, the thick digits tipped with claws that slid in and out of the flesh. A heavy, segmented tail whipped back and forth behind him, and his clawed toes scratched grooves into the smooth tiles of the floor. His gray scales were mottle with crimson inflammation around his mouth and throat, and the sharp, jerky movements he made as he incessantly shifted his weight from one foot to the other reminded Foyi of someone high on spice.
Foyi's gaze took in her immediate surroundings, and she found herself enclosed by high walls of sheer metal, devoid of all handholds. There were four blast doors situated at equal intervals around the pit, and off to the side was the disemboweled remains of a Yinchorri. The sound of the screaming crowd still baffled her ears, but it was no longer coming from around her, but above her head.
Then it all clicked into place. She had fallen into the gladiator pit. And now she was trapped with a psychotic, drug-addled Barabel, completely unarmed.
It took her only a second or so to come to this realization, and that was the only respite she received as the Barabel let out a growling ululation and sprinted across the blood-slicked floor with murder gleaming in his eyes. Foyi whirled away again, using her trained agility and lighter step to avoid the charge. But she was used to fighting opponents without tails, and thus disregarded the Barabel's fifth appendage until it was too late. The heavy tail slammed against the back of Foyi's knees mid-twirl, and she went sprawling, but used the fall to tuck herself into a roll, gaining more distance from her attacker. She came up to one knee, but the Barabel was even faster than she had assumed, appearing before her and slashing down with his right hand. His claws caught Foyi in the chest, shredding her robe to ribbons but skidding off the Force-imbued armor of the Zeison Sha. Foyi let the Force guide her into a solid right hook, connecting with the Barabel's small nose, mashing it into a pulp with a squirt of blood.
If the Barabel felt any pain from his fractured facial feature, he did not show it, instead bringing his heavy head back and whipping it forward into Foyi's forehead. The Twi'lek felt as if she had been run over by a speeder, falling flat on her back and struggling to remain conscious. She felt meaty hands seize her ankles, and she was thrown bodily into another wall. Her armor cushioned most of the impact, but the breath she had not yet fully regained fled her again, while pain shot through every centimeter of her body. She attempted to get to her feet again, but another handful of claws caught her side and spun her around, throwing her to the floor. Foyi crumpled and curled in on herself as heavy slashes and blows were rained down upon her body, the wild, unpredictable strikes of a raging animal. She felt blow after blow sending shockwaves through her body, despite her armor, and they came too quickly and asymmetrically for her to predict or counter. Panic and pain raced through her mind as she realized she had no time to form a strategy, the realization that she could not take this beating, that she would die within moments.
It was that realization, that expectation, of her impending death, that gave her the insight to rally. For she instinctively fell within the limitless depths of the Force, and found herself reaching out into the rest of the universe, feeling her place within it. Everything around her seemed to slow to a crawl, and the pain of the Barabel's punches and slashes became a distant, barely-perceptible annoyance, one she detached herself completely from. There was no further urgency in her actions, no confusing emotions. She merely acted promptly and rightly, never expending more energy or effort than she needed. Her hands came away from their protective position about her face, her palms splayed underneath the Barabel's chest. She willed the Barabel to get off of her, and the creature did so, flying backward almost a meter from the blast of Force energy that spiraled out of her fingertips. The Force flowing through her like bright, clear waters, Foyi leapt to her feet, completely detached from the pain of her battered and bruised body, facing the Barabel with a serene expression and a fire in her eyes. The Barabel was not adversely affected by the Force push, though it did seem momentarily confused that she was able to stand, much less maintain a ready, aggressive stance. Foyi stretched out with her right hand, and beckoned the Barabel forward, inviting another devastating attack.
The Barabel obliged, leaping forward into a predictable charge. But it did not seem such an insurmountable opponent now, but rather a clumsy, lumbering one, not even in full control of its own faculties, with an offense born of insane, homicidal, primal rage. It was a simple thing to sidestep the charge. Immediately, the Barabel whirled on her, attempting to knock her over with its flailing tail, but Foyi had seen the attack long before it ever occurred, and she jumped straight up, tucking her feet into her body. While midair, the tail slowly whipping beneath her, her right foot lashed out, catching the Barabel in a devastating flying kick to the chin that staggered him backward and elicited a howl of pain. He was still stumbling, his neck craned upward, when Foyi landed, and her left hand lashed out, her fingers held together like a blade that slammed into the soft portion of the Barabel's throat. The Barabel made a gagging sound as he clutched at his throat, leaving him defenseless to Foyi's follow-up attack, a Force-imbued righthand punch that descended on the top of his brow, smashing the Barabel to the ground. Foyi hopped backward, expecting another attack, but her connection to the Force revealed the slow, labored breathing of the Barabel: she had knocked him unconscious.
Foyi could feel the pain from her injuries beginning to become prominent in her attention again, but she stayed beneath the calming waves of the Force as she looked upward. The sounds of blasterfire had died down, but she could still hear hurried footsteps, screams, and shouted orders. Rayf's head appeared over the lip of the gladiator pit, smears of blood on his face that did not belong to him, his expression showing concern, then relief at seeing her still alive. "Foyi! I took care of the first few guards, but there're more coming! We gotta get out of here!"
Foyi took a running leap, pushing off the smooth tiles with the Force and jumping high enough to reach the lip of the pit. A quick scramble and Rayf's strong hands helped her out of the pit, into a scene of abject chaos, as patrons and spectators all crowded toward the exit while tripping over the wounded and the dying. The Hutt on the dais above was bellowing something in thunderous Huttese, and she could already see more armed thugs appearing on the platform above, presumably from some door or opening up there out of her sight. "Where's Ak-vir?!" she shouted above the cacophony.
"He escaped! Something we should do too before we have nowhere left to go!"
Foyi nodded, shoving aside her anger, her fear, and her pain as she concentrated on running alongside Rayf, heading for the nearest exit and escaping the confines of The Cruelest Cut.