Bar Fight

From TFC Galactopedia

For the moment the cantina was quiet with only the soft clink of glasses and murmur of conversation disturbed the relative stillness. I sat at the bar nursing a watered down glass of Corellian Brandy, boredly trailing a claw through a puddle of spilled alcohol. It was too hot in here; the fitful breeze blowing in the door never seemed to reach his far. I loosened the collar of my black shipsuit and readjusted the utility belt that hung low around my hips, making sure the blaster stayed in plain sight. Always let them think what they see is all you have.

Outside in the dusty street, engine sounds I had previously registered as distant hums roared up to the cantina. I winced. It sounded like an entire swoop gang was about to invade the bar. Without turning around I tentatively reached out a tendril of thought, brushing against the minds of those outside. I scowled, my mood turning decidedly darker. If what I found there wasn’t enough, the five tattooed, smelly, hulking swoopies who burst in through the open door, laughing raucously and trading obscenities more than convinced me my day had taken a turn for the worse.

I stayed where I was, careful to note the way they ranged themselves behind me. Their intent was clear through the Force and their actions. I yawned, feigning indifference, and slid the creds for my drink to the bartender. “Nice place, I’ll have to come back here again sometime.” I turned smoothly, started to leave, and drew back in faked surprise, seeing the swoopies had arranged themselves in a half-circle around me. I suppressed my anger, seeing their winks and leers, and steeled myself for the fight to come.

I stepped forward, and, as I expected, one of them reached out to catch my arm. “Where ya going so fast? Why don’tcha stay awhile?”

“Thank you, no.” I dropped my free hand to my belt and what would appear to them to be a large hydrospanner. “I have my own plans.” I pushed forward and was roughly showed back into the swiftly closing circle.

“Change ‘em, then.”

I sighed, “You really don’t want to hassle me…” I pulled my saber from my belt, the quick release snapping easily open.

A particularly smelly thug guffawed, “What’cha gonna do? Beat us to death with you spanner, little girl?”

“No.” I replied softly, “Just this.” Before he could react, I twisted out of the swoop rider’s grip, leaving a bloody score of claw marks on his bare, muscled arm, and set my stance in the midst of them as I snapped my saber on. Expressions of disbelief as the coruscating rainbow blade hummed to life turned into angry snarls of realization and I felt their wrath swirl around me. I opened my perceptions fully to the Force and dropped into my calm center, a quiet spot in the middle of a raging storm. Roaring, two of them charged me, wickedly curved vibroblades ready to gut my carcass… IF they could catch me.

I dropped low, spinning beneath the plane of attack, my saber scything through the legs of one thug at the ankles. Dimly I sensed the bars’ other patrons scrambling for cover between screams and shouts of encouragement. One down, four to go. I caught the second thug on my upswing, saber bisecting him from left hip to right collarbone as I finished the spin to face the others. That’s two. Three more left. These three weren’t going to make it easy on me either. They’d seen how easily I dispatched their companions, one of whom was still moaning beneath a table, and were more than ready to turn deadly force in my direction.

I swore mentally as a hailstorm of blaster bolts was unleashed at me. I could deflect them without too much trouble, but the risk of civilian casualties was greater now. I leapt up on the bar, pirouetting gracefully to send the deadly rain blazing in all directions. Biting back a hiss of pain as one bolt grazed my thigh, I launched myself over their heads, whirling to take out two more with a single swipe before they could swing their blasters to bear on me. The third managed to get off a shot before I took the barrel off his weapon, leaving it fused and useless. Unintimidated, he roared, tossed it away and threw himself bodily at me. Neatly I sidestepped the attack, my saber shearing through his neck and letting the body fall headless to the stained permacrete floor.

Taking a deep breath, I snapped off my saber, reclipped it to my belt, shook myself and surveyed the damage. “I wish you hadn’t made me do that…” Several tables had been upset, severed bodies lay strewn over the floor and everything seemed to have a liberal spattering of gore on it. Submerging myself in calm detachment, I pulled the pouch from my belt and tossed it to the bartender who was staring at me with a mix of awe and bemusement. “Sorry about the mess; this ought to cover it.” I picked my way over to the door and turned back one last time, a wry, humorless smile on my face, “Maybe I won’t come back so soon after all. I seem to be bad for business.”