She's a Riot

[Drace Solus]

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Prison, Nar Shaddaa
2143 Local Time​

"Over here! To the prison!"

The riot had been going for a few hours now, mostly incited by Drace and Leandros, though he'd heard of similar, copycat efforts on other sides of the planet. Thus, Nar Shaddaa succumbed to chaos, countryman turning on countryman, not that there was anything surprising about it. The moon had always been a dog-eat-dog world—now, that had just been brought to the surface.

Ducking under the vibrosword of a Twi'lek junkie, Drace sliced through the man's torso with his beskad, then raised it up and pointed at the prison. He shouted those iconic lines again, and this time the mass of rioters listened.

"To the prison!"

Crime lords, sitting in their penthouses or bunkers, were likely rejoicing. Here were the citizens of Nar Shadaa, liberating their thugs. It was a good time to be a criminal. It was an even better time to be a Hutt.

The first rows of the crowd reached the entrance to the prison, a high-rise building that stretched for what looked like thousands of stories up. They crashed into the gate, literally trampling the guards under their feet, then got to work breaking down the massive durasteel door that had been locked to prevent them from getting in. Grenades and thermal detonators exploded every few seconds, sending the bodies of anyone near it into the crowd behind them.

The mass slowly began thinning at the front, and that's how Drace—who was slowly navigating toward the front, the tips of knives and barrels of blasters scraping against his armor—knew that they had breached the wall.

It was time to make a slug somewhere very happy.

@Deviant

 

[Percy Solus]

Persephone was still drunk as hell. Only hours ago, she was getting it on with the wife of an Imperial officer, hands in places her husband had never touched. Why? Because Percy knew exactly how to handle a woman. Unfortunately, handling that particular woman landed her a position in the local prison, locked behind bars she couldn’t bend or break no matter how many times she pulled or bit at the metal. Several times she tried to persuade the guards to let her free but to no avail. Even when she pretended to vomit all across the cell floor, which didn’t involve much pretending, nobody decided to leap to her aid. All she was left with was a dry throat and a wicked smell.

The other jail mates stuck with her were not so happy with the mess and resolved to beat her to a pulp. Needless to say, she mopped the floor with each man who decided to step up to the plate. Literally. The details of that was better left unsaid, however. All that mattered was that Percy was now the chief of the cell. She wondered what it would be like in prison. Except, that thought vanished the second she recognized the sweet symphony of a riot outside. Lights flickered. Guards barked orders. Without a doubt, Percy knew this might be her ticket out of there.

“Step aside, plebs.” She said to the other prisoners, who groveled out of her way, leaving her an opening to the metal bars of the small cell. As one guard marched past, she made every effort to press her chest through the bars and whine to attract their attention. The guard stopped, eyed her angrily, and smacked his baton into one of the poles. Percy didn’t flinch. “What’s the problem, scum?” They spat, but the young woman only leaned forward, as if luring the man ever closer. “Your mom.” She shot back, a terrible insult, but enough to elicit another outburst.

“The hell you say to me?” The officer said with a slummer’s drawl. He raised his baton high and aimed to smash her teeth in. Except, rather than meet her face, it found her iron grip. Percy grinned. It was time to get the hell out of there.

@vamp

 

[Drace Solus]

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The prison was slowly liberated, floor by floor. By the time Drace had entered, inmates were already beating and killing guards with whatever they could find, the rioters assisting. Despite his beskar'gam being in full view, he had no problem, until a hand came out of nowhere and shoved him in the chest.

"Hey, Mandalorian!" The voice was gruff, as if its owner had smoked cigarras his entire life. A barrel chested human inmate with a poorly-shaven beard looked at him. His uniform indicated he was part of the general population, only thing distinguishing his grey jumpsuit from others being the unique number on it. The man was tall and burly, resembling a Gamorrean, though he was at least near-Human.

Drace was holding his beskad, so shoving him had been a terrible idea. Wondering what the hell the inmate had to say, the Mandalorian looked at him expectantly, though his helmet hid his face.

"Your kind killed my mom." A moment of emotional weakness amid the chaos. The inmate was the most sensitive-seeming person Drace had encountered all week. He hated it.

"So?" he asked, moving to walk past, only for the man to block the path. "I'm sure she was a wonderful lady." He was yelling over the chaos.

"The fekk did you just say about my mom?!" The inmate threw a punch, and surprisingly, didn't immediately break his fist. Drace's helmet was knocked to the side a bit, covering his left eye. This guy drank his milk.

The Mandalorian, already pissed off but made angrier by the punch, stabbed his beskad into the man's side, through what used to be his kidney. Still, the inmate didn't seem to go down. Another punch later, Drace stabbed him again, then again. He had to jab his entire blade into the guy's heart for him to finally collapse, falling on some poor bastard and probably breaking every bone in his body.

Drace stepped over him and kept walking. "The idiots seem to be crawling out of the woodwork today."

@Deviant

 

[Percy Solus]

The guard had not expected such speed and ferocity out of the young woman. Neither did he expect the savage punch that followed once she seized his baton. Fingers curled into a fist, she felt his nose shatter beneath the hit. With her other hand tight around his collar, she pulled him into the metal bars. A loud thud resounded after, his skull rattled against the steel. The guard collapsed to the floor a split second later. Hand still hooked on the man, she kept him close and started to search his uniform for anything of value. Some lint. Chewed gum, which she quickly popped into her mouth. A blaster pistol, perfect for use. And last but not least, a keycard, perfect for an escape.

Her cellmates lit up, shocked but intrigued to see their newfound master carving up an opening. Percy ignored them. Struggling for a few seconds, trying to swipe the card the wrong way, she eventually heard an approving click and watched the cell slide open. Twirling her hair over her shoulders, the young woman paraded out. She stretched to get a feel of free air despite having barely moved a foot out of the chamber. “Finaaaaally.” She moaned and stuffed her blaster down her pants. That way, she wouldn’t lose it. “Time to ditch this popsicle stand.”

Waltzing away and toward the source of the commotion, she spotted several guards hidden behind cover. At the end of the corridor, rioters charged but found themselves at a standstill with the constant deluge of blaster fire. “Now, now, we can’t have that.” She scoffed and pulled the handgun back out of her undergarments. Three shots followed. Three bodies hit the floor. Another successful breakout. Already, the mix of rioters and liberated inmates rushed from one floor to the next. An exciting display, one she was tempted to join. Percy paused.

“Oh, why not?” Spinning on her heels, she was whisked away along with the others, aiming to free the rest of the prison before spilling out into the streets. After all, the more, the merrier.

@vamp

 

[Drace Solus]

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Drace was slowly but surely working his way up the prison, quite literally. Beskad in hand, pointy end toward the crowd, he jabbed anyone that blocked his path, resulting in a relatively safe path. The crowd in front of him kept parting and then uniting once more when he passed by, his armor standing out as well, which only helped his case.

Sure, he could hear people whisper "Mandalorian" or feel the odd pebble thrown at his beskar'gam, but those were merely guppies poking at a shark—he had no reason to concern himself with every knucklehead that disrespected him. At least, not now. They would feel the harsh sting of consequence when Nar Shaddaa lifted the flag of Mandalore, and dar'manda were exterminated or exiled in hordes. It was a nice thought to keep him from thinking about the constant feeling that his ears would explode from all the chaos.

He bumped his beskad into a woman's (@Deviant) back, but she didn't budge. Had she not felt it? The tip of the blade had jabbed, lightly, into bare skin, enough to sting but not enough to leave a mark, and yet she just kept blocking the path. He poked again, more insistently this time. "Excuse me," he said, with far more respect and patience than he should have been exhibiting. Drace had to yell for her to hear him over the war cries and screams of pain, and hoped to Kad Ha'rangir she would actually hear.

@Deviant

 

[Percy Solus]

As Percy advanced, the crowd got choked up in a narrow corridor ahead. Prisoners continued to flood out, either joining the fray or looking to breath some free air for the first time in months or years. She relished in the sight. As she stood waiting, she overhead several hushed whispers behind her. Nothing serious, only gibberish, especially among the endless battle cries. Blah this, blah that. She crossed her arms. Slowly, Percy grew impatient, wanting to knock some teeth in already. Her feet tapped against the floor. Her mind wandered. That was, until she felt something tickle her back.

She chuckled but ignored the strange feeling. It persisted, eliciting another funny feeling. However, a voice followed and Persephone realized someone was actually touching her. Brow raised, she spun back around to see a man with the edge of his blade pressed toward her abdomen. Hardly alarmed, she glanced from the cute little sword toward the man holding it. With one hand pressed against the metal face, she pushed it aside. “You got a problem, princess?”

She pursed her lips but as her eyes examined another promising face to punch, she recognized the armor plating of a Mandalorian. In the flesh and blood. Men and women who she had essentially worshipped for much of her childhood was now standing right in front of her, helping lead the charge into the prison. Percy tensed. ”Holyshitbiscuits.” Whether or not the man understood her, she quickly adjusted herself.

She spat out her gum and pressed the palm of her hand to her mouth, checking her breath. With her fingers, she combed through her messy hair and tried to scrub bloodstains from her outfit, but to no avail. She checked her boobs like fluffing a pillow before finally turning back to the Mandalorian, hand on her hip, pretending to be as nonchalant as possible despite whatever the man just saw.

“Oh, whoops. Sorry, didn’t you see there.” She looked him up and down and pretended she just saw the Mandalorian markings strewn across his armor. “You’re a Mandalorian too, huh? Very cool. So cool.” She slapped a playful fist on his shoulder. Percy took a long, awkward pause. “…same here! I'm a little worn for wear but man, it's so good to see you!” She had no idea what she was doing.

@vamp

 

[Drace Solus]

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"Our people don't have princesses," he said, his voice deadpan. Drace knew she was being sarcastic, but he had spent the past 2 days doing nothing but massacring police officers and civilians—his psychological state was not very whole right now. Kriff, there was so much blood on his white armor that someone who didn't know better would think it was painted red.

Then, the woman turned and got an eyeful of beskar'gam, and suddenly became ten times more docile. Drace had heard that women loved a man in armor, but he really had not expected that statement to be so accurate. She was a Mandalorian too, apparently, though she did not strike him as one. "Nice to meet you," he said, switching to Mando'a. "What clan do you belong to, sister?"

That would likely be the ultimate test for her—if she actually spoke Mando'a, Drace had no reason not to believe her. If she didn't, she would probably have to give him a damn good reason not to cut her to pieces for disrespecting Mandalorian culture.

@Deviant

 

[Percy Solus]

Persephone had been forced to scrap a living on her own. As a bounty hunter, or spice dealing, or out of the closest garbage chute. The slums of Nar Shaddaa wasn’t exactly what one could call home, and there wasn’t a day that passed by where she didn’t wish she could leave it all behind to join the biggest merry band of assholes in the galaxy— Mandalorians. And not only for the fun they might bring, but to find her father, the man who abandoned her to that fate, and show him a little fun too. In the stab-kill-murder kind of way.

But she knew the Mandalorians never usually welcomed just any outsider. They only picked the finest of the bunch, and while Percy thought she was fine af, that alone wouldn’t be enough. So, she learned. Not just how to kill, and doing in the most creative ways possible, but to be as much a part of Mandalore as anyone else. The culture was easy, but picking up the language? Another case. Nothing that a few courses on the HoloNet could mend!

Processing what the man said, she grinned and replied in broken Mando’a. “It is a horny to meet you.” She tilted her head to mimic a very weak bow. One fist pressed to her chest like a true warrior to answer but paused to consider her options. There were many clans. Kryze, Viszla, Wren. Of course, Percy knew she couldn’t pick the most well-known of the batch. Not a House. To better hide the truth, she needed to stick with a shitty, small, unknowing clan. A thought passed her mind.

“I am Persephone, of Clan Solus.” She continued, tone stronger and more confident. Little did she know the full extent of Solus’ influence and power. That it was not a Clan any longer, but a House. Needless to say, her lack of knowledge would do little to prove her deceit. Especially as she pieced together an excuse for her horrendous Mando’a skills.

“Forgive me for my Mando'a, brother.” She pushed on through the language despite the fact the other man could still speak basic. “I have been captive here for many lifetimes.” It was true. She may have only been stuck in the prison for the night but many lives had passed since then. Technically. Totally. Maybe not, but nothing the Mandalorian couldn’t realize. Yet.

@vamp

 

[Drace Solus]

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The first sentence caused Drace to raise his eyebrows underneath his helmet. Was she trying to...hook up with him or something? Without even seeing what he looked like? This chick really was desperate.

"Solus? Me too! I am Drace, of House Solus," he replied. "I hope you don't mind, but we'll have to keep talking as we move." They'd been clogging up the hallway, and those passing by were beginning to grow increasingly violent. As if on cue, a vibrosword poked at Drace from behind. He whirled around, slashing his beskad directly into the culprit's upper torso. The man was surprised, so he didn't even move to block, then crumpled to the floor, fresh blood on Drace's blade.

He turned and began moving toward the exit. "How long has it been since you were last in the motherland?" he asked. She still didn't strike him as a Mandalorian, but she seemed to speak the tongue. At least she had that going for her.

@Deviant

 

[Percy Solus]

Blood splattered and spilled across the floor. Persephone watched as Drace spun back around, his beskad dripping with blood and face devoid of remorse. She wasn’t sure whether to be frightened or aroused but she was leaning on the latter. Mandalorians never failed to get her worked up, so it was no wonder she wanted to join their ranks. Even if she was bullshitting her way in, it didn’t matter. If Solus, or the general Mandalorian people, welcomed outsiders, then why should Percy be any different? Well, even if she was lying, claiming to be a direct descendent. Then again, little did she know that was the truth.

“Not a problem.” She answered and walked alongside the man, Drace, toward the exit. She hid her surprise at finding out he was with Solus, which was now a House? Lots of strange twists. Not that it mattered either. He didn’t seem to question her heritage further, and Percy was content. For the moment. There would probably come some more prying later, which she could just as easily slither her way out of. Especially if it meant fulfilling her childhood dream of becoming a back-stabbing, throat-slitting, head-butting scumbag among the best goddamn warriors in the galaxy.

“Many lifetimes.” She continued in Manda’o, repeating what was said before. It took her a moment to realize that wouldn’t be enough to satisfy the bloodied stud so she pieced together a more elaborate response. “Many, many lifetimes.” Alright, maybe not. With the flash of a smile, she trailed beside him outside the city, where the riot intensified, clashing with the Imperials. She breathed in the fresh air. “I was trapped in captivity for as long as I can remember. It is good to be naked.” Another pause as she tried to remember the right word. Finger raised, she corrected, “Free, I mean.”

She chuckled. The ongoing uprising was like music to her ears. “This world has made me weak. Can you take me home, brother?” Persephone glanced over to Drace. A hundred thoughts whirred in her mind, and a one hundred percent of them was just her praying he would say yes.

@vamp

 

[Drace Solus]

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Percy's Mandalorian was dubious, to say the least. Nevertheless, Drace was beginning to like the woman, so he nodded. "Of course," he replied, his beskad making contact with an escaped prisoner that had reached out to grab Percy. The man's head left his shoulders and flew somewhere into the crowd.

They turned a corner into a relatively empty alley. "'My' ship is right here," he said, with air quotes around "my." A beat-up freighter came into view, blood splattered on its door. Drace entered first, sitting down at the controls and motioning for Percy to sit where the copilot normally would. He got to flipping switches and pressing buttons, but the Mandalorian wanted the discussion to keep going, so that he may at least start to know who he was flying with.

"So, how long ago did you decide you wanted to be a Mandalorian?"

FIN​