NationStates Jolt Archive

CW and Godular, I'm sure you're both interested in RPing teh Somalians. While you could both pick a faction to RP, the RP might go faster if the two of you can agree to RP the fun as a whole, so if one of you goes inactive, the other can post...

Concerning the Masakis' involvement, CoreWorlds, if you wish to RP the Masakis making the initial journey, best to do so reasonably quickly when you get online. I'll probably wait ten RL days or so, before RPing the journey as if master and apprentice went alone.

To others: If you wish to RP here (espeically Somalis or adjacent African nations), please telegram me.

As New Dornalia has informed me that Somalia is part of Earth SSR, I recognize that claim and give ND the right to RP the Somalis.

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Ten days.

Ten days to prepare for hell, or something close to it.

Colonel Keith Allaire wasn't one to back down from challenges. Even those that seemed batshit insane (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=12551842&postcount=57). And ten days was the length of time he had bid himself to prepare to survive in Somalia for a completely undetermined length of time, without the aid of any and all technology postdating the Christofascist Wars (OOC: event in EWT history roughly corresponding to MT/PMT divide). Excepting, of course, his lightsaber, but that was simply a formality, the Jedi Order allowing for contingencies involving Sith and whatnot. Not to be used in an ordinary street battle.

Ten days to learn passable Arabic. Those learn-a-language media recordings suddenly became a godsend as Keith didn't just watch and listen to them, he called upon the Force to flash-memorize them. Training under a master politician, though Keith generally hated politicians, did have its advantages, like learning how to develop photographic memory.

Ten days to read up on Somali history, factionalization, ethnic strife, and clan politics at the barrel of a gun.

Which meant, of course, that he had better bring a gun. Finding projectile firearms in a nation accustomed to energy blasters was not always an easy task, but after a few hours of rummaging through old equipment on a military base, the Colonel requisitioned for himself the best sniper rifle he could find that met the technology restrictions, and a few hundred rounds of ammunition to go with. A small submachine gun and service pistol rounded out those armaments he could actually expect to use. Fortunately, unlike those who had challenged him, he actually knew how to *use* them, with accuracy.

Ten days to cram as many MRE's as possible into the free baggage allowance on Evil Woody Airlines...

Airlines. Not Space Lines.

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14 November
6 in the morning
Eheayana International Airport, Old Terra (EHY)

"Yes, that's right, I'm declaring FIREARMS in my checked baggage. Packed in accordance with security regs: disassembled, ammunition in seperate checked bag." As if wearing full battle dress uniform isn't enough to tell the customer service agent that I'm military. Colonel Allaire flashed his military ID *again* to the customer service agent, giving him a glare that indicated that he wasn't in the mood to suffer airline bureaucracy.

The agent rolled his eyes.

"CFR 804-14(b). LOOK. IT. UP. NOW." After noting a headshake from his master, he added in a somewhat calmer tone of voice, "Or would you rather have the manager do it for you?"

The customer service rep (obviously new) sighed, looked up the rep, and found that the passenger was right. Keith watched him slap bag tags bearing his name and "NBO" in large letters.

NBO: Nairobi, Kenya. The stopover point. About 4500 miles from here, translating into a nine-hour flight. While flying a small spacecraft directly into some Somali desert would've been more direct, it also would've been in violation of the technology restriction on Keith Allaire's Jedi trials.

He tried not to think of what Daniel Masaki, the one who had challenged him, would do given his current position. In Keith's estimation, the spoiled royal brat probably wouldn't be able to meet his own challenge; Daniel would go Sith to survive.

The old Chinese curse was certainly relevant. Colonel Keith Allaire, meet interesting times.

Due to CW's absence, Godular is gonna RP teh Somalis and whatnot.

Keith looked almost longlingly at the mountains behind the tarmac, as if he wanted to go hiking. The best he would manage would be to fly over them. He vaguely heard something about Boarding Group 4 being called, before realizing that such applied to him. He sighed as he joined the zoo of people crowded around the boarding area. Several minutes later, he took his seat...one that was too damn narrow and felt like it had all of two inches of legroom. In other words, standard coach seating. He asked for no favors.

The saving grace: his window seat might prove interesting. If only the scheduled arrival time wasn't something like one in the morning local. A shame, too, because he knew he would fly right over the Great Rift Valley, but there would be no light with which to observe it. So much for sightseeing...

Then something else caught some vague semblance of his attention. The safety briefing, one of the most mundane events in the life of a flight attendant, or someone who flew turbofan aircraft regularly... "Please pay attention as we go over the safety features of this Boeing 787..."

A generation ago, Master Whitfield, convienently sitting three seats over, had been on such aircraft no less than once a week. Keith, however, had to admit he had never been on one...there were some technical things that even he remained ignorant of. Therefore, unlike the majority of people on the aircraft, he actually paid attention, absorbing the briefing while at the same time noticing the aircraft pushing back, and listening to the engines start, one after the other.

But he had a dark feeling. Not about Africa...about here. Then the aircraft taxied across a taxiway surrounded by charred land, complete with skid marks.

Oh shit. Don't tell me I'm going to have to relive the massacre that took place a year ago here. He had been fighting elsewhere during Evil Woody Thoughts civil war, but he had heard horrible things about the sacrifices made to wrest control of Eheayana from the Dark Lord. Very horrible things.

An uneasy feeling took root as the aircraft's engines whined, then roared, to life in a deep, steady hum. Keith slid back in his seat as the aircraft barrelled down the runway (like the Masakis, he admitted, he was used to VTOL), the wings gradually flexing up at their tips by about seven feet, before the aircraft finally lifted off the ground at a fifteen degree angle.

Keith looked down at the threshhold of the runway. Pure black...right up to a thoroughfare running perpendicular to the runway about five hundred feet beyond its threshhold. On the other side of the thoroughfare, the damage had been cleaned up...somewhat. But he still saw burned-out buildings below him, occasionally, entire abandoned black blocks amidst the otherwise white buildings of Eheayana.

At four thousand feet altitude, the buildings, both new and burned-out, gave way to the steppe. The vegetation in the area where Sith-controlled kamikaze forces had succeeded in their ignition of kerosene ten months ago was noticeably...shorter.

As the aircraft banked to the south, Keith wondered if it was a premonition. He hoped not. His mentor remained suspiciously quiet.

OOC 2: Rest of post coming when it's not five in the morning.

Godulan bump for great justice cuz I don't subscribe to threads much.

OOC: Gravedig, yada yada yada. I took an extended leave from NS, and flirted with the idea of retconning my entire national history to start anew. I have decided against this.

----------

A noticeable drop in the engine noise woke Keith up. Initial descent, probably. As he stole a glance at his watch (which he had already set for Somali time before he fell asleep), his brain involuntarily added, Dammit...three in the morning...I won't get to see the Great Rift Valley. He looked to his mentor, who was still asleep. I'll let the landing give him a little wake-up jolt.

He regretted arriving when the terrain below him was obscured by darkness. After this little "trial," he planned to pursue a postgraduate degree in geology at White Diamond University, even if going outside of the Academy ruffled a few Jedi feathers. The fact of the matter remained...the Academy simply did not provide any geology-related opportunities, a slight problem for one who Force-glazed his supply of kunai from stones.

Then a thought crossed his mind, one that it might be a good idea to find himself a compass. Better yet, I'll just make one that Customs can't seize. He reached out with the Force (which managed to wake up Master Whitfield), attuning his mind with Earth's magnetic field, until magnetic north burned in his head. This, at least, Keith didn't have to be on the ground for. Now aware of what direction the aircraft was going despite the complete lack of visual references, he paid keen attention to its occasional turns and steadier descent, interested in a longass landing process that he had never seen before.

Upon the aircraft touching down on the Nairobi runway, he decided that a DropShip landing was a bit more exciting. "Let's get out of here. I'm sure you're eager to get rid of me," Colonel Allaire needled his master.

"Always getting yourself into trouble. I don't know who is crazier...Daniel for challenging you to this, or you for taking it."

"I'm crazier. Daniel isn't crazy enough to actually COME here," Keith replied with a wry grin.

"True."

By now, the aircraft had pulled up to the gate, and the flight attendant was lecturing about gathering all personal belongings. As soon as the two deplaned, they went to customs, whereupon the Kenyan agents promptly demanded bribes to let Keith bring in his checked weaponry, much less export it to Somalia.

"You don't need a bribe," Keith said, waving his hand. "You are already well-paid. Corruption will get you a nice, long jail sentence."

"I don't need a bribe, the customs agent replied. Corruption will give me a nice, long jail sentence." He slid Keith the paperwork required to clear his items.

Not everyone is that weak-minded Whitfield warned his apprentice warily.

I am quite aware of that. Now, let us go shopping for munitions before catching our ride to Puntland this afternoon.

OOC: I REALLY need to finish this thread. New Dornalia has informed me that Somalia has been integrated as an SSR. Therefore, rights and responsibilities for RPing Somalis become those of New Dornalia.

This thread is old. Real old, and I need to hurry up and finish it to free up this character. Other RPs have occurred, and are in progress, since then. This is, IC, about eleven months before the Bailey Kipper Controversy (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=542295) and the Black Crusade. However, to avoid issues of Time-Wank, I am refraining from using Keith Allaire in those RPs until this RP is concluded.

-----------------------

A couple of hours later, Keith Allaire boarded the bus to go to some unpronounceable town in the region of Puntland, basically, Northern Somalia, the region that actually forms the "Horn of Africa." His pockets were a bit lighter, but he came away from his shopping with a Russian-made Dragunov Sniper Rifle (http://world.guns.ru/sniper/sn18-e.htm), an AK-47, and Makarov pistol (http://world.guns.ru/handguns/hg21-e.htm) for short range work, no less than twenty clips of ammo for each. It was a good thing that he had brought along a Woodian military-issue backpack; previously partially stuffed with rations, it now was filled to the gills with the many clips of ammo that did not fit on his utility belt. He anticipated trouble, and he expected to at least be able to strip ammo off of AK-47s easily should he get into trouble. The two other guns probably had enough ammo to last for a darned long while.

As one Colonel Keith Allaire boarded the bus (by necessity, wearing full Woodian battle dress, desert camo), Master Whitfield left him. He must face his Trial...alone...and he knew it.

Or did he? Keith remained quite alert on the bus as it kicked up dust driving through the crappy, pothole-ridden, dust-ridden roads of southern Somalia. It would be a shame if somebody wanted to kill him...and get a nasty surprise. And, in Somalia, there was no rest stop...

...Keith waited. He paid no attention to the time. He drank only from the water in his canteen, saving his food for when he truly needed to. He could condense drinking water for himself during the night; he had trained under the tutelage of Master Whitfield, after all. When the bus stopped somewhere in northern Somalia, he disembarked, and found a coffee shop, much to his surprise...

Inside the Coffee Shop, Allaire probably wouldn't notice it right away, but among the Somali patrons at the bar eager to get some strong coffee to satisfy their hunger for conversation and something strong to drink--lots of Muslims around here didn't take too kindly to alcohol--there was somebody different. A tall Chinese man, in a simple t-shirt reading "AC/DC" and jeans, held up with suspenders, was at a table, with a mug of coffee and a local pastry. Smoking a cigarette, he placed it into the well-worn ashtray, and then leaned back. He felt around his pants--he smiled, his trusty slugthrower, a Colt Government model--two to be exact. He could feel the Presence of the Force entering the room all of a sudden. He then turned, and saw Keith. Something told him he was here for a reason....

He then snapped to attention, as two Somali men with some large parcel approached him. They plopped it down in front of him. The Chinese fellow smiled, and then opened the parcel's brown paper wrapping ever so slightly. It revealed an ornately bound, jeweled Ethiopian Orthodox Bible. He held it, feeling it with the hands of an expert. He thumbed through it, revealing the ornate inlays and the elaborate script inside.

"This is nice," he said with a smile. "Exactly what my buyer was looking for."

The more arrogant of the two Somali men then said, "Heh. I knew your man was a fellow of good taste."

The Chinese man then said, matter-of-factly: "Well, religious artifacts happen to be his speciality."

The other man then replied in a proud, but somewhat more dimwitted tone, "Good thing we delivered it to you then. Those damn government men in Ethiopia are looking for this thing, and we beat them. Didn't we, bro?"

The other one said, "Fuck yeah. We showed those miserable shits what for!"

The Chinese fellow smiled. These fellows were big talkers; that was going to be their doom in the next few minutes. He then replied, "Right you are gentlemen."

He then felt the book, and said, "Hmm....shame. Should be in a museum."

One of the Somalis then replied, "Nah. Besides, the damn Ethiopians don't have the cash to keep it safe in that shithole of a museum in Addis Ababa anyway! You ask me, we should get medals!"

The Chinese man then said, "Oh you'll get medals alright...."

He then looked at them evilly, and said, "....Maxamed Abdi Abdikamar and Dalmar Abdi Abdikamar."

Maxamed and Dalmar looked at one another, and then Maxamed, the arrogant one, said, "What's the meaning of this?"

The Chinese man then replied, "I know who you two are. Didn't take much. A switch-up with a Triad envoy in Hong Kong. Good memory of your faces. And some detective work. You really thought you could get away with it, didn't you?"

The two brothers then looked at one another, and without a word, Dalmar pulled out a Tokarev pistol and began firing. The Chinese man then kicked the table forward, and then threw up a Force wall to block Dalmar's shots, leaping backwards and quickly drawing his two Colt Government pistols, just as the Force Wall then disintegrated....

What is this? One thing that Colonel Allaire had fully expected here in Somalia: Disputes with guns involved. Therefore, he pretended to walk up to the barista to order something, even though he listened quite intently to the argument.

It did not take him all that long to figure out who the criminals were. Ironically, the best part was, the criminals were dependent upon guns, while what passed for law enforcement seemed Force-sensitive. Keith wouldn't even have to kick their asses. He could be subtle about this.

Keith nonchalantly used the Force to find the firing pins on Maxamed and Dalmar's Tokarevs. Even as he ordered his coffee, said firing pins glowed red-hot, thanks to the thermokinetic skills that Master Whitfield had taught him in the last year. Colonel Allaire then used the Force to bend those softened firing pins ever so slightly--and flash-freeze them to the rest of the gun, rendering them incapable of moving...

"Now I know the Force is strong with someone here!" the Chinese fellow thought, as he landed on the floor with a thud. He then quickly lept forward with a Force Jump, tackling Dalmar as he fumbled with his now non-functional firearm and then sweepkicking Maxamed to the floor, tripping him up and sending him to the floor with a thud. By now, the place was empty, the patrons fleeing for their lives.

He then took a roll of duct tape from his back pocket, and then used it to bind the would be antiquities smugglers back-to-back. He then held his gun up to the two, and said, "No sudden moves. Or else you won't live to see a fair trial."

The two then nodded fearfully, not willing to risk further humiliation and possible death at the hands of this guy.

The Chinese man then picked up one of the busted Tokarevs. He looked it over, and noticed the heat and cold damage. He then smiled; it had to be the other Force sensitive he had felt before. He then turned and spotted that man he had a feeling about from before. A tall fellow, dressed in military desert camo, with a pack and hair that looked dark, but made dark by a dye job. A guy that would stand out anywhere.

The Chinese fellow then approached him and showed him the rear of the Tokarev. With a smile, he then said, "Love your handiwork. Pyro and cryokenesis, yes?"

He then pulled out a little badge, and flashed it, displaying a symbol that looked like the Jedi Order symbol, but surrounded with interlocking sheaves of wheat and what looked like a crossed hammer and sickle, with a lightsaber in the middle and Red Star in the background.

"Chin Tai-Wong. People's Acolytes, Comrade 3rd Class."

OOC:Can i join this thread

People's Acolytes? What the hell? Colonel Allaire thought to himself. He would have to have a little chit-chat with the librarian he consulted with back in Evil Woody Thoughts, who had not informed him that yes, Somalia was part of the Los Angeles Treaty. Knowing that could have spared him at least some of the more tedious parts of preparing for this Trial of Position (or so he called it, even if the Jedi called it something else), though procurement of the firearms was still probably a good idea.

Colonel Allaire gave a wan smile at the Acolyte's comment about his "handiwork." Had he actually known this random person, Keith would have flashed a full grin, but he remained a bit on the cautious side. "It is as you say. Colonel Keith Allaire of Evil Woody Thoughts." Of course, the only information that he gave in introducing himself that wasn't displayed on his uniform already was his first name. Then again, a People's Acolyte might not be that familiar with the Woodian military...

He reached down and picked up the antique Ethiopian Orthodox Bible that the criminals had been conducting illicit transactions over. "Who the hell is going to return this to Addis Ababa anyway?"

OOC to Havangas: This thread is closed.

He reached down and picked up the antique Ethiopian Orthodox Bible that the criminals had been conducting illicit transactions over. "Who the hell is going to return this to Addis Ababa anyway?"

OOC to Havangas: This thread is closed.

Chin then put the now useless gun on the counter, and then looked at the now-cowering barista, whom he then asked for a small coffee. The man then nodded in a somewhat frightened fashion, and then ran to retrieve it.

Chin then smiled, and turned to the good Colonel. He then holstered his Colt Government pistols in his pants holster. With that, he then replied matter of factly: "I'll deliver the Bible to a waiting Internal Security Bureau man from the Antiquities and Cultural Preservation Division. He'll ensure it will get back to Addis Ababa and stay there."

He then quipped, "I would like to ask a question of you now. Borrowed from an old movie quote, but modified for local conditions. "Of all the coffee huts and java joints in the world, why here?""

Colonel Allaire really didn't want to reveal why he came to Somalia. He still didn't know exactly whom to trust, and the scope of his mission technically was surviving until such time as the Jedi Council felt like extracting him. So he decided to play tourist, without making it look like he was completely foreign to these parts. "I happen to like desert coastlines," he replied. "It just so happens there to be one such coastline to the east."

Colonel Allaire really didn't want to reveal why he came to Somalia. He still didn't know exactly whom to trust, and the scope of his mission technically was surviving until such time as the Jedi Council felt like extracting him. So he decided to play tourist, without making it look like he was completely foreign to these parts. "I happen to like desert coastlines," he replied. "It just so happens there to be one such coastline to the east."

Chin sensed Allaire's mistrust. Colonel Allaire may have seemed calm on the surface, but Chin's Force-sensitivity gave him a rather different picture--one of a man who had some sort of secret to guard. Given that he was also dressed in full Woodian desert camo, it seemed he wasn't here for a mere beachcombing trip.

He decided to press a little further. He then folded his arms, keeping his smile as he continued: "You like desert coasts, eh Colonel? Then why not dress somewhat more appropriately for a beachcombing trip? I'm sure you don't need desert camo BDUs to relax on a beach."

"It is a long-term excursion," the Colonel replied. "And I came prepared for shit like what happened a few minutes ago." He then proceeded to give the shell-shocked barista payment for his coffee. "Sorry about the wait..."

"It is a long-term excursion," the Colonel replied. "And I came prepared for shit like what happened a few minutes ago." He then proceeded to give the shell-shocked barista payment for his coffee. "Sorry about the wait..."

Chin then chuckled a little, simply quipping, "Well, I guess that explains the backpack. Must be full of ammunition no doubt, to deal with fellows like these two." pointing to the bound thugs. He then joked, "Or, even me."

The barista then nodded when he recieved the payment, scurrying away to pick up a broom and start sweeping up the place. As he did so, Chin then pulled out a gold sovereign, and flipped it to the man using the Force. He then said, "For the damages."

The barista then took the coin and went back to work. Chin then replied, with a smile, understanding that the Colonel wanted to be left alone to his job: "Anywho. I guess I'll be taking back possession of the Bible, then, so you can go on your beach trip."

"Good." Realizing that he still had the Bible, Colonel Allaire gave it to Chin for the journey back to Ethiopia. He then took his coffee and sat down as Chin left him to mind his own business...thankfully.

He sipped his coffee, returned the mug to its proper receptacle, and walked out of the coffee shop, somewhat curious, yet wary, as to what else was in town...

"Good." Realizing that he still had the Bible, Colonel Allaire gave it to Chin for the journey back to Ethiopia. He then took his coffee and sat down as Chin left him to mind his own business...thankfully.

He sipped his coffee, returned the mug to its proper receptacle, and walked out of the coffee shop, somewhat curious, yet wary, as to what else was in town...

Chin then walked out of the bar, grabbing the two men by the scruffs of their necks and then saying, "Let's go, scumbags." They then crabwalked out of the bar somewhat awkwardly with Chin, before he threw them awkwardly into the back of an old pickup. He then got in the front seat, and then started the auto, driving to a small building in the middle of nowhere, with a couple of pillboxes around it. He then lept out, and knocked on the door.

The door opened, and a man came out, another Somali. The man said, "Yes?"

Chin flashed his Acolyte badge.

The man grew more responsive, saying, "Ah yes, Comrade Chin. Please, do come in."

Chin then put his hand up and said, "One moment." He then walked back to the pickup, and then cradled the two baddies in his arms as he wandered to the station. He then unceremoniously dropped them onto the floor, their bodies hitting with a thud. Then, he went back out, and got the Bible, sauntering back to the Somali and handing it to him. He then said, "You are the Internal Security Bureau Section Chief for this area?"

He nodded.

"Here is something your men have been looking for for a while."

The man's eyes grew as he examined the Bible. He then said, "Ah yes. Let me see the Antiquities man inside. Please wait here."

Five minutes later, the man returned, saying, "We thank you for your assistance in this endeavor. The artifact will be returned to Addis Ababa posthaste."

He then looked at the two men dumped onto the floor, and then said, turning to Chin, "I suppose these are the men who did this, yes?"

Chin nodded, and said, "That's them. I did my own detective work."

The section chief then smiled, and said, "Interesting. I will require you to stay though. We need to ask you a few questions...."

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The town square was pretty sparse, besides the coffee shop. A local bazaar selling fruits and vegetables, as well as khat, the locally chewed stimulant existed, as did a few houses, a dusty old building advertising "Autos Repaired Here" and another advertising itself as an "HoloNet Cafe (sic). Fast Connections here."

Besides that, the road stretched forth into the distance, with a few more houses fenced off, some more businesses, and the occasional auto moving about. A truck was moving in though, painted with the symbol of Internal Security Bureau Civil Patrol policemen. They had heard about the altercation, and were moving in to investigate....

The town square was pretty sparse, besides the coffee shop. A local bazaar selling fruits and vegetables, as well as khat, the locally chewed stimulant existed, as did a few houses, a dusty old building advertising "Autos Repaired Here" and another advertising itself as an "HoloNet Cafe (sic). Fast Connections here."

Besides that, the road stretched forth into the distance, with a few more houses fenced off, some more businesses, and the occasional auto moving about. A truck was moving in though, painted with the symbol of Internal Security Bureau Civil Patrol policemen. They had heard about the altercation, and were moving in to investigate....

Well, at least they DO have law enforcement here! While Keith did not particularly want to testify, he figured his military uniform pretty much screwed him over. At least he wasn't the perpetrator, but still he figured on being held as a material witness. Though the police might object to the massive quantities of munitions he carried, the police might think him an arms smuggler. His military ID should get him out of that one, but he could not be sure. (He had not yet figured out the extent of Dornalian gun fetish).

He walked out of town, towards the east, towards the beach. He might come back for fruit and veggies from the market later, but he couldn't spend his credits *too* freely as he did not know how long he would have to be here. (Had the place had a used speeder dealership, which apparently it did not, he might have considered investing in one of those.) Whistling would have been too obvious; still, he had a nagging feeling that he was about to get hassled...

He had gone no more than a thousand feet before he arrived at the beach. Judging the place to be too damn close to the legal hotspot, he started to walk south along the coastline, hoping the town's legal troubles would not reach to him. It wasn't like he had done anything wrong. He just didn't want to be bothered explaining right now.

Bargal, Somalia, Earth SSR

The altercation in the Coffee Shop had gotten the word of a local warlord, Abdi Abdul Abdikamar. How, you may ask?

One of the ISB-CP agents that entered the shop was a secret informer for Abdi, and after the Civil Patrol stopped at the shop, they fanned out, the man in charge of the Civil squad screaming out in Somali, "Fan out! Fan out!"

The barista, to make a long story short, was detained, especially as the turncoat noticed he had a glinting gold sovereign in his pocket. The shop was sealed off, and a team from HQ was brought in.....

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Civil Patrol Base 245

In the meantime, at the Civil Patrol headquarters, the turncoat went in with one of the other agents to handle questioning. It was a comparatively gentle procedure.

"Ahmed Maxamed Abdi. What occurred at the coffee shop?" Questions like that got asked, and the man answered to the best of his ability.

Along the way, the man's replies were recorded onto a tape, which the turncoat quietly copied.....

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"WHAT!?"

The flunky then bowed, not eager to experience the wrath of his boss.

"Sir! It is as I have said! Dalmar and Maxamed were arrested by the authorities! They were lured into a sting!"

Abdi stood up and then grabbed the flunky by the scruff of the collar of his cheap shirt. Abdi was a particularly large fellow, well-fed, with a large cigar jutting out of one end of his mouth and a toothpick out of the other. He glared at the flunky and yelled angrily at him, replying, "Who did it?!"

"Some Chinese guy! And, not only that, there was some white guy at the bar who helped him out or something like that! They used the Force!"

"The Force!?"

He threw the flunky to the floor, and then kicked him for good measure.

He grew furious, pulling out a gilded .357 Magnum revolver, and said skeptically and angrily: "In all my years of operating the Blue Flag Trading Group, I have never heard such a ludicrous tale as that! You are saying that some white guy, and some c--nk used magic to foil our deal?"

He leaned into the flunky and said to him, hissing and spitting as he talked, "Do you take me for a fool!? Magic doesn't exist. It's a trick the fucking Yankees introduced with their trashy rock music and their MacIntyreism! Magic is for fools.

Now Allah, maybe he exists. He might not be paying attention. The only things that you can count on are guns, and your own two hands! So don't you dare tell me that my men can be foiled by some tricksters with parlor tricks! No one unmakes me! Not when I've got the guns and the best smugglers in the Horn of Africa! You hear me!? Speak the truth!"

He then pointed the gun at the flunky who then said, "It is as it as I have said!"

A shot was fired, the flunky's life spared only by virtue of Abdi's anger causing him to miss. The flunky then said, "I can give you their names."

Abdi then said, intrigued, "Now this I can handle. Tell me...."

"Their names were...Shin....and something French, the barista said. He couldn't remember! But he did recount what they looked like! He said the white guy was tall, with a backpack and military clothing! The Chinese man was with a rock shirt and jeans!"

Abdi then said, "Is the law after them?"

The flunky then nervously replied, "No, no! Civil Patrol decided drop charges on the two men. The Chinese man was aiding them in the investigation. The white fellow helped end the incident. They figured, he prevented further bloodshed, he should be spared!"

Abdi then smiled, saying, "I will review the tape. In the meantime, spread the word, send agents out, tell them to be on the watch for those men. Because the Blue Flag will hunt them like the dogs they are...."

---------------------------

Chin, meanwhile, had explained himself to the Internal Security Bureau's man, and by now was free to go. He was wandering the streets of Bargal himself, trying to keep cool. He stopped into the "HoloNet Cafe" and decided to e-mail his buddies back in Hong Kong, as well as check his NS-Nationstates RPs. Playing a virtual leader was hard work....

He sauntered in, and dropped a wad of cash on the counter. The man knew him, and then let him in, allowing him to use one of the dusty, well-used machines. After taking care of his business, he then walked back, and dialed his Master back in Hong Kong, pulling out a small communicator and ducking into a secluded alleyway.

"Master Pang. This is Comrade Chin."

A grizzled old voice appeared on the other end.

"Ah, Comrade Chin! How did the job go?"

"Well. I was able to get our two friends into the proper custody. The package is back in Addis where it belongs. However, there was some unexpected intervention."

A pause.

"Please don't tell me you had to shoot up the place? This better not be like the Noodle Incident...." the old voice replied.

Chin turned, looking about, and then said, surprised, "No, Master. A man came in. A Colonel Keith Allaire of the Woodian military. Wouldn't tell me much besides the fact he was here to enjoy the local beaches. I say he's here for something deeper than that."

Master Pang perked up. "Oh? Is he a spy?"

"Maybe. But spies wouldn't dress up in full Desert BDUs and openly carry a pack full of ammo. Whatever it is, he doesn't seem hostile, but doesn't seem like a guy to mess with. He's got the Force in him."

Interested, the old Master then said, "Hmm....a Force user? Might he be a Jedi?"

"In Somalia? Dunno why he would go here, unless it was for some kind of test, or perhaps some kind of spiritual pilgrimage."

"Spiritual pilgrimages do not require excess ammunition, my son. Only tests do. I believe he may be there as some kind of test."

"What should I do then?"

"Observe him. Let him do his test his way, if he is being tested. I don't want him to be considered a cheater, now, do I? Only when necessary, do you intervene. And I know how you like to get yourself stuck in."

"Yes, Master. I will keep my distance."

"Good. Anything else?"

"No."

"Then Carry On, My Son."

Chin then hung up, and proceeded to walk to his old pickup. He decided to go for a little trip to the beach....

------------------------------

Meanwhile, a couple of men on old, dusty Triumph motorcycles were driving by the beach. Kalashnikovs, both classic and Kroot modified, slung on their shoulders, they drove by, on orders from their boss to look for either the "Chinese guy" or "the white guy with the military stuff." "Extra money and women for the men who gets them dead or alive!" was the promise. And these men were eager enough to accept.

As they drove about, one of the men turned and asked the other, "Do you see anything?"

The other, eagerly scanning the horizon, said, "Nope. I don--Wait."

He squinted his eyes, and looked into the distance. There he was, the man they were looking for. Or at least one of them. The Army Man. The spotter then tapped the other guy on the shoulder, and then said to him, "Get your gun out. We're getting this guy."

"You sure it's him?"

"Well, why the fuck not? It's gotta be him. If it's not him, then well, we can pretend it was him and get the rewards!"

The other one then nodded, and made his Kalashnikov cocked and locked, ready to do the job. They then drove towards the army man, at high speed. One of them bailed from his cycle, rolling on the sands and then getting up, opening fire on Allaire.....the other tried to flank him, to prevent an escape....

Bargal, Somalia, Earth SSR

------------------------------

Meanwhile, a couple of men on old, dusty Triumph motorcycles were driving by the beach. Kalashnikovs, both classic and Kroot modified, slung on their shoulders, they drove by, on orders from their boss to look for either the "Chinese guy" or "the white guy with the military stuff." "Extra money and women for the men who gets them dead or alive!" was the promise. And these men were eager enough to accept.

As they drove about, one of the men turned and asked the other, "Do you see anything?"

The other, eagerly scanning the horizon, said, "Nope. I don--Wait."

He squinted his eyes, and looked into the distance. There he was, the man they were looking for. Or at least one of them. The Army Man. The spotter then tapped the other guy on the shoulder, and then said to him, "Get your gun out. We're getting this guy."

"You sure it's him?"

"Well, why the fuck not? It's gotta be him. If it's not him, then well, we can pretend it was him and get the rewards!"

The other one then nodded, and made his Kalashnikov cocked and locked, ready to do the job. They then drove towards the army man, at high speed. One of them bailed from his cycle, rolling on the sands and then getting up, opening fire on Allaire.....the other tried to flank him, to prevent an escape....

Colonel Keith Allaire heard motorcycles approaching rapidly from the north. It did not take him long to figure out that those on the motorcycles were after him, partly because of his Force senses, and partly because he was the only target in the area.

The Colonel dove behind a rock, extracting his Soviet-make sniper rifle from his back. Bullets from the one who had dismounted whizzed over where he had just been about a second before; blocking them was not necessary. However, Keith threw up a Force Wall around him just in case, with a small hole in it for him to fire through.

It took less than a second for Keith to line up his shot against the guy on foot. He aimed straight between the eyes, doubting the Force would be necessary to correct his aim but tracking the spin of the sniper bullet just in case, while at the same time using his thermokinetic abilities to heat the tire on the motorcycle whizzing around to flank him to a temperature hot enough for tire blowout...

Colonel Keith Allaire heard motorcycles approaching rapidly from the north. It did not take him long to figure out that those on the motorcycles were after him, partly because of his Force senses, and partly because he was the only target in the area.

The Colonel dove behind a rock, extracting his Soviet-make sniper rifle from his back. Bullets from the one who had dismounted whizzed over where he had just been about a second before; blocking them was not necessary. However, Keith threw up a Force Wall around him just in case, with a small hole in it for him to fire through.

It took less than a second for Keith to line up his shot against the guy on foot. He aimed straight between the eyes, doubting the Force would be necessary to correct his aim but tracking the spin of the sniper bullet just in case, while at the same time using his thermokinetic abilities to heat the tire on the motorcycle whizzing around to flank him to a temperature hot enough for tire blowout...

The flanker soon had reason to regret his bravado. He felt the tire explode with a resounding "BOOM!" With that, his expression turned to one of alarm, as he tried to keep the wayward motorbike under control. However, before it could do anything, he cried out, "Shit shit shit!" as he was forced to end his flanking manuever early, bringing the bike to a sudden stop with his brakes, nearly falling over. It would be still functional, though the front tire would not be. This was unlike his comrade's bike, which was going to need some repairs thanks to the bailout--though the tires still worked.

He deployed the kickstand, and then loaded a magazine into his Kroot Kalashnikov. The magazine clicked in with a satisfying click, and then he felt the weapon powering up, its alien mixture of Soviet engineering and Kroot pulse technology and warrior spirit going to work.

As he did so, he witnessed his buddy being taken down as he was charging towards the white guy, struck down with a bullet between the eyes with a Dragunov.....at near-point blank. Who was this guy!?

He decided to end this. Now. He charged in, spraying the area with pulse fire, sending highly energized railgun fire flying through the air with a onoerous zing and and a crackling of the air towards the target, crying, "I KILL YOU!"

------------------

Meanwhile, Chin drove towards the beach, casually watching out for his new acquiantance while Dornalian Free Radio played the Top 40 hits on the reciever. He didn't know it, but he'd drive into something heavy soon...

Several bullets pinged off Keith's Force Wall as the imbecile charged, bullets raining down about a foot in front of his face. That is, before the barrel of the bandit's gun started glowing red hot. Colonel Allaire couldn't be bothered with the subtlety of finding the firing pin this time. He decided to warp and mangle the modified Kalashnikov's barrel a little bit before flash-freezing it again to a surprisingly brittle solid metal.

His quarry disarmed, Keith stood up to his full height, quickly switching out his Dragunov for his Makarov pistol. "You have two choices," his blunt voice demanded. "Live or die. So, which will it be?"

Several bullets pinged off Keith's Force Wall as the imbecile charged, bullets raining down about a foot in front of his face. That is, before the barrel of the bandit's gun started glowing red hot. Colonel Allaire couldn't be bothered with the subtlety of finding the firing pin this time. He decided to warp and mangle the modified Kalashnikov's barrel a little bit before flash-freezing it again to a surprisingly brittle solid metal.

His quarry disarmed, Keith stood up to his full height, quickly switching out his Dragunov for his Makarov pistol. "You have two choices," his blunt voice demanded. "Live or die. So, which will it be?"

The thug was stunned at the sudden reversal, as in the midst of the barrage, the barrel disintegrated. He was assured by the seller of the gun that Kalashnikovs were some of the best guns on the market. And now, this happened. How the hell did one of his best guns break? Fucking shiesters......he would gut that salesman like a goat when he found him. Oh yes.

But that was the least of his problems at that point. He then realized suddenly that this white guy was giving him an ultimatum. Surrender, or face death. And, judging by the pistol in his hand, he was eager to back his threat up. And the thug had no other gun.

With that, he had no choice. He put down his ruined rifle, and then said simply with a glare: "Fuck you, Yankee. You lucky I have no other weapon besides my fist. And I not dumb enough to try charging you with it."

-------------------

Chin then spotted Allaire, noticing him brandishing a pistol at a man who evidently tried to put the hurt on him rather unsuccessfully. Dismounted bikes and a dead guy gave only further evidence to the fight.

"Looks like the good Colonel decided to make a mess...." he thought. He then smiled to himself. This guy was a badass. Not as badass as he could be, of course.

Chin decided to park close to the action, parking a short hop away and then leaping out of the truck. He then smiled, walking towards the action and then stopping to watch the action.

"Who the fuck are you? And who sent you?" the Colonel demanded angrily, keeping his pistol pointed straight between the attacker's eyes. He should have just tackled the idiot right there and beat him for his attitude, but he sensed a familiar presence now observing the...dispute, and decided to be merciful. Keith stood at his current position, moving his gun as the attacker's movement necessitated it. His blue eyes burned straight into the attacker's face, making it quite obvious that he had absolutely no intentions of putting up with further shit today...

"Oh, yeah, and don't pull shit on me, either. Even if you had more guns, I would destroy them just as easily," he added tersely. That the Colonel had slipped into the use of contractions, normally taboo in the Woodian military, indicated just how thin the ice upon which his attacker was skating really was...

"Who the fuck are you? And who sent you?" the Colonel demanded angrily, keeping his pistol pointed straight between the attacker's eyes. He should have just tackled the idiot right there and beat him for his attitude, but he sensed a familiar presence now observing the...dispute, and decided to be merciful. Keith stood at his current position, moving his gun as the attacker's movement necessitated it. His blue eyes burned straight into the attacker's face, making it quite obvious that he had absolutely no intentions of putting up with further shit today...

"Oh, yeah, and don't pull shit on me, either. Even if you had more guns, I would destroy them just as easily," he added tersely. That the Colonel had slipped into the use of contractions, normally taboo in the Woodian military, indicated just how thin the ice upon which his attacker was skating really was...

Allaire would be greeted with an insulting giggle. The thug whose intransigence made him use contradictions then said with a proud tone, "The father of those two you help to arrest. He is not in any mood to tolerate bullshit. He has men looking for you. All over the area, Yankee."

He then glanced over, and saw Chin in the distance. He then said, "You and your Chinese friend too. You get me, Chinaman!?"

Chin simply saluted, and nodded in reply. He then unholstered his pistol and then aimed down the barrel, using the Force to zero in on his brain and, if this guy proved really intransigent, make a key blow....

The man grew somewhat more serious, and dropped some of the bravado. He then finished with: "You are marked men, both you two. Father A made sure of it."

It was only that Chin, too, now aimed weapons at the thug's head that stayed Keith's hand from tackling the bastard right then and there for that insulting giggle. Keith was in no mood to have Chin fire at the idiot's brain, only to hit him instead. Nevertheless, he kept his own pistol pointed between the thug's eyes, to ensure that he stayed at least marginally cooperative.

He sent a mental note to Chin while keeping a wary eye on the thug that he had, so far, graciously allowed to live. Your presence is not really needed here. Though your pickup truck may yet prove useful. I am seizing this thug's motorcycle for my own use. I care not how legal it is, far as I am concerned, this genius just lost a Trial of Possession for it.

"And just who is this Father A? Where the hell is he?" Keith demanded of the bandit. He was quite intent at turning this into a full-blown interrogation at gunpoint and extracting as much information as possible. He had a handkerchief, and the ocean was only a few meters away should waterboarding the bandit become necessary, though Keith would rather not resort to such measures.

Chin glared at the arrogant Somali, keeping his gun trained on his head and quietly Force-messaging him in a one-way manner, "Please answer the question. Or we'll start getting mean."

The man then stepped back. Did he just hear voices in his head? It wasn't the Yankee, for it didn't sound like the Yankee. He then looked around, confused, wondering what was going on. And, for that matter, more than a little scared.

Chin then Force-messaged him again, for kicks. "You're not crazy. You're not listening to the Yankee, either. This is the Chinaman talking, and you will cooperate. Oh, and here's something for your use of that....term."

Chin then took his other hand, and made the motion of a squeeze, holding it for a couple of seconds and then releasing. Directing it at the Somali, he proceeded to enact a version of Force Choke, mild in nature, but aimed at the unfortunate's....manly bits. The man yelped in pain, and fell to the ground, whimpering. He then said, "Okay, okay! I'll talk! The man's name is Father Abdi! He runs the Blue Flag Trading Group! That's all I can tell you. He doesn't give out his father's name or his grandfather's name, just his own! And, he doesn't get out much!"

His eyes then widened in terror, as he said, "Just don't fucking crush my balls again!"

A grin crossed Colonel Allaire's face as the recalcitrant Somali doubled over in pain in front of him. He could tell through the Force exactly what was happening, and found it mildly amusing enough to even let out a laugh. He began to holster his pistol, then suddenly decided to keep it out.

But even though Chin's amusing involvement irked Keith somewhat on the theory that this was his responsibility, and not Chin's, the Acolyte's tactics gave him an...idea. The subject of interrogation now cowered in fear of Chin, and Keith did not have to wonder why. As the man had not gotten up, the Colonel kicked the criminal quite hard with his boot while he was still down, in the same spot where Chin had irritated. He was not done, either. He leveled his pistol straight at the Somali's nuts.

"You will tell me more. Or be castrated. Your choice," Keith demanded tersely. He also shot a telepathic scolding to Chin. Mind your own damn business next time.

A grin crossed Colonel Allaire's face as the recalcitrant Somali doubled over in pain in front of him. He could tell through the Force exactly what was happening, and found it mildly amusing enough to even let out a laugh. He began to holster his pistol, then suddenly decided to keep it out.

But even though Chin's amusing involvement irked Keith somewhat on the theory that this was his responsibility, and not Chin's, the Acolyte's tactics gave him an...idea. The subject of interrogation now cowered in fear of Chin, and Keith did not have to wonder why. As the man had not gotten up, the Colonel kicked the criminal quite hard with his boot while he was still down, in the same spot where Chin had irritated. He was not done, either. He leveled his pistol straight at the Somali's nuts.

"You will tell me more. Or be castrated. Your choice," Keith demanded tersely. He also shot a telepathic scolding to Chin. Mind your own damn business next time.

Chin could only smile and shrug. He simply repilied through the Force, "As you wish. You might be a little grateful for the fact though, that I did expedite the process for you." He then Forcemessaged the Somali, saying, "Watch your ass."

He then leaned back against the pickup, and just continued to watch.

--------------------------------

The Somali, meanwhile, then looked about, and then frantically searched for something to tell this crazy Yankee. He was looking to finish the job the Chinese started, and he was not eager to see that through. He then gulped, and replied simply, "I tell you the truth, I do not know much! But what I do know is widely known amongst the people of Bargal."

He then stood back up and said, calming down and staggering a bit, "I hear from the imam, my brother, and my sister he lives in a...what is the word....penthouse? Yes, he lives in a penthouse inside of Bargal and he also maintains a house on the coast, which has a small boat dock."

He then elaborated on the dock, saying, "They say he uses the dock to smuggle goods. Things like guns, drugs, whatever can be smuggled under the noses of the Yankees tax-free and without obeying the law, either to the people of Bargal or to other places, like London, or Cairo, for foreigners. They say he also uses the dock and hidden operations along the coast to raid Yankee, English, and Japanese on the sea, to fill his coffers."

To cap it all off, the Somali decided to up the seriousness of his speech, noting: "Yankee, if you're thinking about going after him, I must warn you. Maybe you didn't hear me, but you and the Chinese are marked. He has enough money, guns, and khat to keep after you two, and he is not known for mercy against those whom he targets. I can also say he keeps a bodyguard unit which follows him about; everybody in Bargal sees their Land Rovers. They are some of the best fighters out there, both veterans of the Clan Wars and some soldiers of fortune, English, Italian, Belgian, and Yankees like you, including they say, some women that are like animals. If you attack him, they will surely fight back."

He then smiled, saying, "I pray you have enough bullets, and that Allah bestows his compassion upon you and the Chinese. Father Abdi will not."

Pfft. I could have just waterboarded him. And my knee would have been right there to hold him down, Keith shot back at Chin via Force telepathy.

Meanwhile, he sensed through the Force that the Somali really did not know much more; he was too scared by now to try to use deception in pleading ignorance. Must be a cell-based syndicate where one hand does not know what the other is doing, Keith thought to himself. However, he could not just leave the Somali here as he left. He did not trust the Somali enough to turn his back to him.

He did, however, holster his pistol. But, before the Somali could so much as breathe a sigh of relief, Keith took a step forward and put that forward motion into a closed right fist. Said right fist wasted no time rushing up towards the side of the Somali's head in a surprisingly quick, savage uppercut that was sure to not only knock him out, but leave him with a concussion that would be there for a very long time...

He did, however, holster his pistol. But, before the Somali could so much as breathe a sigh of relief, Keith took a step forward and put that forward motion into a closed right fist. Said right fist wasted no time rushing up towards the side of the Somali's head in a surprisingly quick, savage uppercut that was sure to not only knock him out, but leave him with a concussion that would be there for a very long time...

The Somali fell to the ground with a thump, knocked out cold by the punch.....he wasn't going to get up for a while.

Chin then simply Force-replied Keith, looking at the scene, "You need some help with that trash?"

Keith did not move his body for about a full second; he only moved his head enough to watch the Somali crumple to the ground like Christmas wrapping paper thrown about by angry kids. It left an eerie silhouette in the late afternoon sky of Keith, his right arm frozen in the air as if it were being held back by the fury of the gods, who decided to cry out, "Enough!" As if a sculptor had frozen him to make some temple statute of a mythological hero (though Keith himself did not harbor such delusions of grandeur, his mind focused more on the practical matter of survival).

"Make that pickup truck of yours useful," Keith replied out loud to Chin's mental query. Before Chin could drag the deadweight over, however, Keith kicked the Somali in the groin again to make sure he was completely knocked cold, and finding his body limp, bent down and frisked him for the keys to the motorcycle he had parked after the blown tire. "Oh, yeah, and it would be wise to avoid being in a boxing ring with me," he added with a slight grin on his face.

However, the Colonel was in no mood for wastage. Though he did not lighten the live Somali's pockets further, he decided that the decapacitated Somali could perhaps reimburse him for the expense of the bullet shot through his head. Therefore, the Colonel made sure to lighten his pockets as well, extracting a couple of clips of ammo for his AK-47, a couple of doses of khat that he would have to try later, and a small quantity of New Dornalian cash, enough for two or three meals from the market at most.

Finally, it was time for the Colonel to get out of here. He did not wish to flee, however. Keith wondered about the efficacy of directly interfering with this smuggling operation. Perhaps by burning the docks? Oh, yes, he knew he would need his ammo, but he also knew that he would probably need it anyway. Preparing first for the attack, however, would definitely be a good idea.

He walked over to the wrecked motorcycle, that, ironically had two functional tires. It did not take him long to extract one of those tires and change it over to the motorcycle that had been the victim of his front-tire-blowing...

Chen then drove his old pickup towards the scene of the fight, and then parked it close to the suspect to be picked up. He then quipped, joking around in reply to Allaire's comment about boxing, "Duly noted."

He then continued, as he dragged the body onto the truck's bed and flopped it in there, with a laugh that suggested a light tone: "Though I would have to say that as a People's Acolytes, as part of my training, I have knowledge of Hung Gar Kung Fu. I could take you in a fistfight." He did look with some disdain upon Allaire's graverobbing, shaking his head and going, "Are you that short on cash?"

The Colonel shrugged at Chin's suggestion that he was that short on cash. "Meh. This is Africa. Get used to it," he retorted, as if he had been here for years. "He owes me for the bullet I spent on him. Oh, and you would not by any chance like to back up your claim about that fistfight, would you?" Keith glared at Chin, viewing the Chinese man's statement about the kung fu skills as a threat.

The Colonel shrugged at Chin's suggestion that he was that short on cash. "Meh. This is Africa. Get used to it," he retorted, as if he had been here for years. "He owes me for the bullet I spent on him. Oh, and you would not by any chance like to back up your claim about that fistfight, would you?" Keith glared at Chin, viewing the Chinese man's statement about the kung fu skills as a threat.

Chin then returned the glare with a smile. He sensed Allaire took his boast about his Hung Gar knowledge as a serious threat, and he intended to make sure the threat was taken down. He figured getting angry wasn't the best way to reply to the Colonel; after all, Master Pang had taught him moderation, both in class and after many an impulsive gunfight as a Novitiate.

He then replied to Allaire, "You are not my enemy at this moment, Colonel. Bear in mind, we have bigger enemies to worry about. Perhaps you would remember, that a certain local pirate king has put generous bounties on our heads, and intends to collects them?"

"Aff, but do not boast of something you do not intend to do," the Colonel acknowledged and reprimanded Chin at the same time. Inwardly, he thought Chin to be something of a coward, though he did have a point about those pirates.

Unfortunately, Keith needed to return to town to gas up his new motorcycle and, it seemed, procure more weapons. He already had firearms, but he realized that he might end up facing several opponents at once in melee combat...a situation for which his extensive training in Naginatajutsu (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Naginatajutsu)--The Way of Polearm Weaponry, more or less, said training having taken place during his tenure in the Woodian Military, before he joined the Jedi Order. An axle from one of those auto repair shops in town could easily be reforged as a glaive. Oh yes. He would break the legs of five oncoming smuggler militants at once with the darn thing if he had to.

Keith mounted his new motorcycle and sped off, into the west, intending to take a circuitous route into town. He did not want others to anticipate him returning from the south, and he sure as hell kept a watch on his Force senses for threats. When he got into town, he essentially planned on performing mass mind tricks on everyone, the fewer people would realize it was actually him. And he sure as hell didn't plan on spending much time in town, either...

"Aff, but do not boast of something you do not intend to do," the Colonel acknowledged and reprimanded Chin at the same time. Inwardly, he thought Chin to be something of a coward, though he did have a point about those pirates.

Chin could get from his tone that his attempt at moderation wasn't welcome, and simply shrugged. Before he could reply, however, the Colonel drove off, leaving Chin to sigh and drive off into the distance in his pickup. Looked like his new friend was A) Some kind of tough guy and B) Probably going to go back into town. He was going to follow the path his motorcycle took, keeping to Master Pang's order to shadow this guy--though not follow too closely, to avoid arousing suspicion and to follow that other part of Pang's order to let the good Colonel do things his way. This was his test after all, and things in Africa played by a slightly different rulesset than in the slums of Quarry Bay. However, the presence of the fellow in the flatbed in the back persuaded him it was time to pay a visit to the local ISB-CP station, and dump him off.

As he was driving into town, however, he discovered he was running low on fuel. He stopped at a small fuel station, where he got out and began bargaining with the manager, eventually using the legendary Jedi Mind Trick to get a better rate on some fuel cells he needed for his Toyota. He then left the man some money, and walked off, leaving the remainder of the full amount as a tip.

As he walked out to install the new cell, his Force sense perked up. He then dropped his batteries and pulled out his Colt Government pistols. He then used one of his arms as a rest for the gun, aiming down the slide and turning around to face the driver of an incoming sedan. The men inside were armed, and eager for blood.

He didn't hesitate for a moment. His opponents would soon feel time slow to molasses, as Chin led the driver of the intransigent men eager to interrupt his pit stop. He then got a bead on the man's head, and fired, sending the shot, with assistance from the Force, screaming through the windshield and into the man's head, causing the vehicle to swerve wildly, as it skid into a fruit stand, of which its proprietor eagerly lept away from to avoid certain death. The men inside the sedan then lept out of their auto, and AKs blazing, charged Chin's position. Chin then lept on top of the flatbed and then lept forward, sighting down the barrels as he executed a Force Jump and opened fire upon the incoming bogeys. Taking two down, he landed on the ground and then lept up in the air with a spin, using a sweep kick to take down one and finish him with a shot, and taking out the other with an elbow to the nose that ended the fight rather dramatically.

He then quickly changed the battery. He then proceeded to bow, and throw the man who's stand was damaged a few gold sovereigns for his trouble, and apologized to him in Somali, saying, "Forgive me. Here is compensation for your trouble." Before he could say anything, Chin drove off, eager to deliver the man to the Police Station.....

----------------------------

Distracted by the sounds of gunfire on the outskirts, the people would be easily susceptible to the effects of the Jedi Mind Trick. Keith would find it relatively easy to get through town, and avoid the now ubiquitous autos with armed thugs in them, eager to find the White Guy and the Chinese Guy.

When he made it into town, a gas station would appear in front of him, fortunately, one that still had petroleum based gasoline in it. Though most Dornalian autos and bikes now operated from fuel cells or microfusion engines for classier models, some older models still used petrol. Besides, it was needed for plastics anywho.

Distracted by the sounds of gunfire on the outskirts, the people would be easily susceptible to the effects of the Jedi Mind Trick. Keith would find it relatively easy to get through town, and avoid the now ubiquitous autos with armed thugs in them, eager to find the White Guy and the Chinese Guy.

When he made it into town, a gas station would appear in front of him, fortunately, one that still had petroleum based gasoline in it. Though most Dornalian autos and bikes now operated from fuel cells or microfusion engines for classier models, some older models still used petrol. Besides, it was needed for plastics anywho.

Colonel Allaire wasted no time in procuring the required supplies, sensing a mass distraction in the Force. Dammit, this Chinese guy is interfering again, he thought to himself, mindful of shielding his own thoughts from Chin. Using Jedi Mind Tricks to keep the gas station attendant from asking too many questions, he quickly filled "his" motorcycle's tank and paid the attendant. Then it was on his way to one of the auto repair shops to purchase, of all things, an axle, as well as a pail and a short metal pipe, using another Mind Trick to prevent the shopkeeper from completely ripping him off just because he was a Yankee. It seemed quite useless, but as he was thermokinetic and had some knowledge of metallurgy, he could remake it into a polearm weapon. He had yet to decide which kind of polearm to make, but that decision was not yet quite upon him. The metal pail and pipe would be used to condense water from out of the air.

His gas tank full and his supplies procured, he sped out of town again, well to the west. He needed a quiet place away from those who wanted his head, for the spear he was about to make for the battle he knew awaited him when he returned. Hopefully he would be able to lose that pesky, interfering Chin in the process...

Colonel Allaire wasted no time in procuring the required supplies, sensing a mass distraction in the Force. Dammit, this Chinese guy is interfering again, he thought to himself, mindful of shielding his own thoughts from Chin. Using Jedi Mind Tricks to keep the gas station attendant from asking too many questions, he quickly filled "his" motorcycle's tank and paid the attendant. Then it was on his way to one of the auto repair shops to purchase, of all things, an axle, as well as a pail and a short metal pipe, using another Mind Trick to prevent the shopkeeper from completely ripping him off just because he was a Yankee. It seemed quite useless, but as he was thermokinetic and had some knowledge of metallurgy, he could remake it into a polearm weapon. He had yet to decide which kind of polearm to make, but that decision was not yet quite upon him. The metal pail and pipe would be used to condense water from out of the air.

His gas tank full and his supplies procured, he sped out of town again, well to the west. He needed a quiet place away from those who wanted his head, for the spear he was about to make for the battle he knew awaited him when he returned. Hopefully he would be able to lose that pesky, interfering Chin in the process...

He'd lose Chin alright. Not because of any laziness on Chin's part though, but mostly because Chin was on business.

He drove up to the police station, and entered, carrying the knocked out man. He then threw him onto the floor, stating simply and with the help of his trusty Acolytes badge, "This man attacked one of my friends. He will try to tell you we attacked him....it is a lie." The man at the desk accepted the story, mostly due to the conviction in Chin's voice and because of the authority the badge carried. And, a little nudging with the Force probably helped.

He then left the station and drove around, eager to get back to the flophouse he was using as a hostel to stay in for his journey. However, he wouldn't exactly make it there. As he drove, taking side roads to evade the thugs and using the Force to keep his presence a lower profile than usual, he eventually parked in the alley next to the hostel and walked up to the third floor room that served as his room for his stay in the city. He then used the Force to sense for bugs, and then put his stuff back onto the empty mattress before wandering out to the rickety balcony and calling Master Pang again.

"Master Pang, it's me."

The voice replied, "My Son, what is it now?"

Chin then spoke matter of frankly, almost leaning on the railing but then getting back up when it squeaked too much for his liking. "It seems my act in apprehending those smugglers has angered their master. I have been made a marked man, along with the Colonel."

The voice swore, cursing the turn of events.

"Damn.....do you need help? Can I send men from the Temple to help you evacuate?"

Chin then replied with assurance. "No, Master. This is a matter I need to settle with the warlord. A Father Abdi, to be precise. I am alright."

The voice on the other end groaned. It replied, "My son, you're going to get killed.....you almost did back in Quarry Bay! Remember?! And now you're going to make the same damn mistake. Just have Comrade Tsu or Comrade Miyamoto get you out. They can---"

"I can't. This Father Abdi is a pirate, and he preys upon innocent vessels whose only crime was to raid the coast. This Father Abdi defies the law. And, he's dared to try and kill me and another human being. He has brought in Foriegners to oppress the people. He has used his ill-gotten wealth to enslave an army of innocents and turn them into drug-crazed killing machines! I cannot let this stand--why do you let him continue his reign of Crime?" Chin said this with conviction, his innate sense of justice, honed by years of fighting Triad bosses and two-bit thugs, coming to the surface.

Insistently, Pang replied, "Because I am concerned for you. Somalia is not your playground, the local authorities will not tolerate a foreigner coming in and turning the place upside down. That Colonel does not need your help. I said this was his test. Not yours."

Pang finished with, "Come. Home."

Chin then replied, shaking his head. "I am sorry, master. But I must stay true to the Code that was taught to me. Good bye."

He then hung up, and stared out into the distance......

Seventy Kilometers West
Sundown

The Colonel finally decided to stop, here. Far away from much of anything. Including any towns, and the hills and cliffs minimized visibility of glowing stuff...like say, hot metals.

Colonel Allaire took the secondary metal rod and welded it, standing upright, to the center of his metal pail. As the temperature fell overnight (Keith would make it fall below dew point overnight), dew would condense on the rod and accumulate in his bucket, where he could add it to his canteen. It was a neat little way for him to use his cryokinetic abilities as a survival skill.

However, that was not why Keith was here. He had picked this secluded area to forge for himself a naginata (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Naginata), the shaft of which he decided to make 75 inches, an inch longer than his own height, and the blade of which he decided to make another three feet. The axle he had bought from the auto repair shop glowed red hot as Keith heated the metal, stretched and elongated it to the shape that he wanted the thing to take; he gave the shaft a slight curve. The shaft itself was thin and oval, somewhat like a katana, but not quite, as he had to be able to hold the thing without cutting himself. However, his opponents would feel concentrated, rather than blunt, force, even if he did not cut their legs clear off as easily as a katana would. He wished to be able to wield it from either a center hold or from either of the ends, so he also forged a sharp counterweight on the end opposite the actual blade, making it an effective weapon no matter which end he used in the heat of battle. As night set in, he let it cool, helping it along a bit, enough to make the thing usable within a few hours, but not quickly enough to make the weapon brittle.

A few hours later, the temperature was below freezing, Keith was keeping warm using the Force, the naginata was ready for combat, and frost had formed aplenty on the pole and on the pail. Keith melted the frost to let it drip into the pail, then poured the contents into his canteen. There was enough water that he had squeezed out of the air to yield a canteen three-quarters full. Not great, but enough to survive on. He took a quick, Force-assisted, sleep-trance nap, while still keeping the Force's "cat's radar," as he liked to call it, on, to detect any intruders. There were none this far out, and after fifteen minutes of flash-sleep, he got back up to leave. It would be a shame if he fought tired.

He arrived back in town, his new toy with him, around four in the morning, using the Force to suppress the locals from taking too much notice until the time was right, with mass Mind Tricks on those who dared to be awake...

The town itself would be rather empty at night. Aside from a few parties to celebrate weddings or blow off some steam, not many people noticed the Colonel reentering Bargal in the wee hours of the morn.

Chin himself had gone to sleep whilst Allaire had been forging his new tool of death. However, he stirred now, to begin his morning exercises. He got up from the simple wire bed in the flophouse, and then began meditating, sitting cross legged on the floor, performing the strict regimen mandated by the Code and by Master Pang to keep his mind centered and free of overly violent or destructive thoughts. After about an hour, he got up and began performing Pang's Exercises, the esoteric mixture of tai chi, qigong, and breathing control meant to further help to focus his command of the Force.

However, should anybody decide to interrupt, he had his Force powers, and his guns nearby....

Chin then detected a Presence in the Force, causing him to pause for a moment in his meditations. Didn't know what it wanted, for it was guarded and actively seeking not to be known. But it had to be somebody familiar....

------------------------

At the docks, meanwhile, a new shipment was coming in. Two of Abdi's pirate skiffs, filled with men armed with Kalashnikovs, military surplus rockets and cojones to crush small deer pulled into port. One was full of scotch, linens, and khat, smuggled in to avoid suspicion from the authorities--and the inevitable taxes and fines on illegal drugs the MacIntyre regime imposed on the Dornalians, which could be quite high at times. The other was filled with bounty from a recent raid--laptop computers, PDAs, Chinese vases, artwork, a fridge full of frozen turkeys, and what seemed to be six complete sets of cookware, along with an indeterminate amount of jewelry, fine watches and necklaces of gold and pearls known only to Allah.

The stevedores on port quickly rushed to offload the ships, whilst men stood guard in the night, making patrols. Massive searchlights stood ready to turn on at a moment's notice, to smoke out any interlopers who dared interfere with Father Abdi's business. The dock soon became full of handbags, crates, duffels and other containers, which were spirited into the basement of the house, one of Abdi's residences. The basement was enlarged, serving as an elaborate underground warren full of smuggled and stolen goods, ripe for resale to unscrupulous buyers in Europe or further up the Red Sea, or unsuspecting but needy ones locally.

They didn't know it, but it would be time for a battle.....

Keith parked his motorcycle well to the north of the docks, bringing along his guns, his pack with all the munitions on it, and his newly made device of doom. Still keeping a very low profile, he walked south for a bit, not all the way to the docks. Just close enough to observe them without attracting too much attention to himself.

He lay on his stomach behind a rock, peering around it to watch the offloading from hundreds of feet away, using the Force to enhance his vision. Oh, yes, a smuggling op in progress. It would be a shame if it was interrupted. He attuned his senses through a brief few seconds of meditation.

Then he focused his attentions on the dock below one of the dockworkers. He had picked a dockworker carrying the least expensive, least flammable goods he could find. Then, reaching out with the Force, he started the wooden planks underneath his feet on fire.

Colonel Keith Allaire would not escape notice for long. Even he knew that...

Keith parked his motorcycle well to the north of the docks, bringing along his guns, his pack with all the munitions on it, and his newly made device of doom. Still keeping a very low profile, he walked south for a bit, not all the way to the docks. Just close enough to observe them without attracting too much attention to himself.

He lay on his stomach behind a rock, peering around it to watch the offloading from hundreds of feet away, using the Force to enhance his vision. Oh, yes, a smuggling op in progress. It would be a shame if it was interrupted. He attuned his senses through a brief few seconds of meditation.

Then he focused his attentions on the dock below one of the dockworkers. He had picked a dockworker carrying the least expensive, least flammable goods he could find. Then, reaching out with the Force, he started the wooden planks underneath his feet on fire.

Colonel Keith Allaire would not escape notice for long. Even he knew that...

The dockworker then felt his feet afire. Then, he noticed the dock was on fire. His expression, if Keith could see it, was one of abject horror and terror, as he ran onto the loading area, knocking down one of the stevedores and sending him into the water below.

One of the managers walked up to him and asked, "What is going on!?"

The man pointed to the dock, and the fire that was now getting a little hotter than it should be. The man then yelled out, "FIRE! Get the buckets!"

At that point, men rushed about, trying to pick up buckets of water and form bucket brigades, running to the spot to douse the flames, which were spreading and about to cause some threat to the integrity of the dock. They frantically threw the water on.....

After most of the fire was put out, the manager then began calling out, "Who did this?! Who set the dock on fire!?" No one would come forward, mainly because no one else had the stupidity or the bravery to set it on fire in the first place.

He then cried out, "Fuck! I need to know what happened!" Clearly, he was frustrated, especially since he knew that if Adbi heard about this....he would be in a lot of trouble. He then said, "Get the tools, and get this dock fixed! I want it to be functioning before the Father's agents arrive!"

The men then complied, and the stevedores working on that dock rushed to pick up some old hammers, drills, nails, duct tape and 2x4s to begin the task of getting the dock back in working shape again. Or something resembling it. This task would leave plenty of people busy, and it also forced one of the searchlights to be moved to the dock, where it was turned on and used to get some light going. In the meantime, the manager said to the head of the patrols, "Ahmed! Increase the patrols around the dock! We can ill-afford interlopers during this critical time!"

The head of security nodded, and then ran off to rouse some more men from their sleep, give them guns and khat and send them on their merry way.

It was one of the men on these emergency patrols that tripped on something behind a rock in the desert. A thing that felt like....a man!?

Colonel Allaire watched, amused, as the dockworkers scrambled about to repair the docks post haste. He also sensed the increased state of alert amongst the workers, and watched the patrols. Now was not the time to give away his location...yet.

Keith watched, via his Force senses, a man approaching him. He had not been seen...yet, but he was about to. He waited as the security guard stepped ever closer. When the time was right, Keith personally and nonchalantly tripped the poor guard.

The Colonel knew he needed to shut the guard up quickly. Before the guard realized that he had been *intentionally* tripped, Keith had already used Force Speed to roll over and grab the guard by his scalp. The guard scarcely had the chance to realize he had tripped before Keith snapped his head back as hard as he could.

His position was still unknown, but if anyone had heard the guard's neck crack, he was compromised. Therefore, he waited a second for the searchlights to move away from him, the search patterns looking elsewhere, before guards could ask, "What was that?" and train their lights on the origin of the sound. He quickly, naginata at his side, dove behind another large rock under the cover of darkness about thirty meters away, following the Rule of the Sniper: Never stay in the same spot, especially once you make a sound.

Next, Keith had to...reignite the docks. He concentrated on some other wooden planks, and igniting them, the fire burning much hotter this time. Within seconds, it sent burning cinders into the air, hot enough to start *more* dock fires that Keith was more than happy to help along...

Colonel Allaire watched, amused, as the dockworkers scrambled about to repair the docks post haste. He also sensed the increased state of alert amongst the workers, and watched the patrols. Now was not the time to give away his location...yet.

Keith watched, via his Force senses, a man approaching him. He had not been seen...yet, but he was about to. He waited as the security guard stepped ever closer. When the time was right, Keith personally and nonchalantly tripped the poor guard.

The Colonel knew he needed to shut the guard up quickly. Before the guard realized that he had been *intentionally* tripped, Keith had already used Force Speed to roll over and grab the guard by his scalp. The guard scarcely had the chance to realize he had tripped before Keith snapped his head back as hard as he could.

His position was still unknown, but if anyone had heard the guard's neck crack, he was compromised. Therefore, he waited a second for the searchlights to move away from him, the search patterns looking elsewhere, before guards could ask, "What was that?" and train their lights on the origin of the sound. He quickly, naginata at his side, dove behind another large rock under the cover of darkness about thirty meters away, following the Rule of the Sniper: Never stay in the same spot, especially once you make a sound.

Next, Keith had to...reignite the docks. He concentrated on some other wooden planks, and igniting them, the fire burning much hotter this time. Within seconds, it sent burning cinders into the air, hot enough to start *more* dock fires that Keith was more than happy to help along...

The man went down quickly, and let out only a tiny death rattle to mark his demise.

In the meantime, the patrol the man was a part of suddenly stopped, and turned about, hearing the rattle. The squad leader whispered, "What was that?!" The men looked amongst themselves, and the squad leader simply replied, "Find the source of that sound!"

The men found it alright. They found a now deceased man lying on the ground behind a rock. In the faint light of the complex, they could tell it was one of their men. With that, the Squad Leader grew anxious, going, "Damn. There's a rat afoot."

His worst suspicions were confirmed when the "rat" who had taken down the fellow caused the dock to go up again. The workers who were busy fixing the dock scattered, some forced to jump into the water and swim to shore as they were working on the sides of the dock. But as the bucket brigades found their handiwork less than effective this time, however. And, indeed, the resulting steam from the attempts to calm the fire seemed to only make things worse. And, not only that, the cinders from the fire caused other parts of the dock to catch fire as well, diverting the bucket brigade's resources and making life a hassle for them. Nevermind the face the manager saw some of the flames creeping onto crates filled with ammunition and alcohol ready to be taken in, which promptly exploded, sending bullets everywhere and helping to collapse parts of the dock and spread the fire.....

The Squad Leader then said, "Inform the Manager that somebody's out here, and that we have an emergency."

The designated runner nodded, and then quickly ran back to the base, yelling "Intruders, intruders!"

Now, the shit would really hit the fan.....

Keith watched, a grin crossing his face, as the docks more or less blew up. Technically speaking, mission objective was accomplished. Though he would probably have to kill or disable everyone in the smuggling ring to have any chance of getting out of here.

Anticipating a heavy gun battle, he threw up a Force Wall (more like a Force Dome, actually, as he sprawled out on the ground to make sight of him more difficult) to block any incoming bullets. Of course, he left a tiny hole for him to be able to fire outgoing bullets through, as he quickly and speedily extracted his AK-47, already pre-loaded.

The six men in the patrol made for quick targets. The Colonel was properly trained to take down enemies in three shots from a rapid-firing assault rifle. Keith, of course, needed far fewer shots than three per enemy to accomplish his immediate objectives. He used the Force--rather than his eyes--to 'see' the members of the patrol, to sense where their heads were. Aiming came to him nearly instantly. He shot each of them with brutal precision.

Of course, now he needed to move again, for he wished to keep the smugglers confused for as long as possible. He quickly put away his assault rifle and extracted the Dragunov sniper rifle, which he had also taken the time to stuff full of ammunition beforehand. As he ran to his next hiding spot, he took shots of targets of opportunity along the way...he remained a well-practiced marksman even at a full run, and the Force never hurt him either. He dove as necessary to avoid the glare of lights trained on the sound of assault-rifle fire, using his Jedi precognition to the full extent of its ability in that endeavor, and Force Speed to help him get to a new hiding spot much faster than he would have otherwise, and also using the Force to carry the naginata with him. He would need it eventually.

However, Colonel Allaire had to make sure that the Force DID hurt those who wanted him dead. To that end, and also to add to the mass confusion amongst the smugglers, he decided that a few of them should self-immolate. Using the Force from his new location, nearly eighty meters away from where he had fired the AK-47 shots, he selected a few of those frantically screaming for underlings to find the intruder...and ignited the sugars within their bodies.

Before the man could fully deliver his message to the Manager, he was downed by Allaire's shot. All hell had broken loose now, and as the Manager and the Head of Security were frantically trying to rustle up men, they heard more shots, and more men fall down from the sniper fire. The patrols, aided by the fast-moving searchlights, frantically tried to shoot out into the distance with AKs, RPKs, and all the Soviet weaponry they had. However, despite their best efforts, they couldn't kill this elusive sniper, and he was pinning a number of patrols down with his fire, despite the wall of lead and rockets they were throwing up. And that was making everybody quite nervous.

The fire spread across the docks, as they were abandoned to be eaten by fire by the men who couldn't get to it for fear of being shot. The light of the flames turned the early morning into day, and the smoke wafting out of the scene made it difficult to do anything back there. The flames were creeping up the docks now, and the explosions and flames could be seen from Bargal proper. In fact, even Chin noticed it, looking out from his window. He could only smile and say, "The colonel will pass his test...."

The manager, however was about to recieve a bigger shock. As he saw one of his men crouch low and make a break to the basement to pick up some more ammo, he saw the man spontaneously combust. He wiped his eyes for a moment, convinced he was only dreaming. But, when he tried to run into the house and call for reinforcements, he saw another man spontaneously combust. And another.....

Slightly creeped out by this, he then ran to the basement and quietly picked up a Squad Support Gun normally used by Dornalian Red Army, and then after rummaging around the cache for some spare magazines and yelling at the stevedores who had survived to pick up RPGs with thermobaric rounds, he and his assembled party walked out front. Loading its magazine, he then heard it click and felt the replicator mechanism power up. He then ducked behind a rock, and cried out to the surviving lieutenants, "Have the men recover as much of the items as you can. I will rally some men around me to defend you while you make the transfer."

The lieutenant then said, "We cannot get to our trucks. We are pinned down. Besides, the convoy set to pick up the shipment was not due for another half an hour! We have only a couple of Land Rovers an an old Army Truck."

The Manager then said, "Curses......" He then gave the signal, and his men let loose a torrent of rockets, he himself joining them with LMG fire.

Unfortunately, in all of the confusion and panic on the part of the smugglers, apparently the thought that using thermobaric weapons against an unknown adversary who seemed able to spontaneously combust the foot soldiers of the operation just might be a mistake...

A couple of random bullets whizzed over the Colonel's head, but he was low enough to the ground. And he was able to sense the rocket-propelled grenades by the ignition of their propellant. Those who fired them, or perhaps those who were between the grenade wielders and their target (and off to the side a little) would regret it. All Keith had to do was prematurely ignite the propellant, and the entire RPG blew apart, conveniently dispersing the ignition fuel and igniting it in atmosphere well before any of the random RPGs reached him. That thermobaric weapons also generated a nice little pressure wave was merely added bonus, and one that Keith aimed to keep as close to the enemy as possible.

The air filled with lead, moving position was now a fairly dangerous endeavor. Therefore, Colonel Allaire knew he had to be quiet, which precluded him from firing his own weapons. However, the Force operated nice and silent, quiet-like. The Colonel reached out with the Force to pinpoint some of the heavier guns that were pumping lead randomly into the air in a vain, confused effort to find him. The wielders of such guns would be most surprised to find the barrels of the guns Keith had selected for elimination glow red-hot, bend, and suddenly flash-freeze. Once again, Keith could not be bothered with the subtlety of disabling guns by firing pin--there were simply too many guns to be disabled.

The sound of gunfire already permeating the air, Keith did not need to return the lead to perpetuate the enemy's panic. In addition to his defensive use of the Force to pare the enemy firepower, he also immolated another of the smugglers here and there. Keith sensed the smuggling ring's panic through the Force...and he also sensed another Force user that was not Chin...

The RPGs exploded one after the other, their operators going up with them. In addition to that, the gunfire started to slacken somewhat, as some of the PK and RPK users, as well as the Manager's LMG suddenly experience serious malfunctions in their weapons--mainly because their barrels became useless, disintegrating due to Keith's shenanigans. It was as if Allah himself had decided to punish these men for their smuggling and theft, and many were really freaking out now. Especially since more of their buddies decided to spontaneously combust.

The Manager then picked up a handkerchief and waved it about. He decided he had had enough, and just wanted to stop the shooting. Fuck Father Abdi; all those fancy dancy things didn't matter if you weren't going to be there to use them.

-------------------------

The convoy that was supposed to be picking up the goods that arrived at the scene arrived early to the scene of carnage. It seemed the driver, having mistakenly noted the time an hour earlier than planned and hopped up on khat, had driven the three Deuce and a Halves to the area, only to be greeted by carnage. The men onboard the deuces, meanwhile took no chances. They loaded their guns, and got ready for the worst.

One man, however, didn't do anything. One who, on the surface, one wouldn't normally fear. A white man who was somewhat short, had hornrimmed glasses, rail-thin, with graying, frazzled hair. He sat there, reading a well worn copy of Shakespeare's MacBeth.

He then noticed the Manager trying to surrender. He turned to the purchasing agent in charge of the convoy, and spoke in a short, clipped Russian accent: "I would like to come out and observe the battle for myself, please."

The purchasing agent then said, shaking his head and paying more attention to the violence going on, "No. I won't risk any more men."

The Russian replied, eerily calm, "Why would I be a risk? I can handle myself perfectly...."

The purchasing agent then felt his ears being twisted, and his body being dragged towards the man. The man then grabbed the purchasing agent's ears, and bent him close, applying enough pressure and tension so the agent could nearly feel his ear being ripped off of his head as the Russian then said, "I don't believe you heard me. I would like to observe the battle for myself. And leave the stifiling confines of this auto. May I do so?"

The purchasing agent then cried out, "Alright! Just let me go!"

The Russian then said shaking his head, "I do not think that is possible. Not with that tone."

He then took his other hand, and held it up, about to execute a Force choke, or worse, when one of the men said to the Agent, "Sir? One of our men is trying to organize a surrender."

The Russian then looked at the Somali, and said simply but sharply, "We cannot let that happen, can we? After all, Father Abdi needs his gains, does he not?"

With that, the look in his eyes changed from somewhat malicious and cultured to downright evil, with a sadistic glee that could make even the strongest vomit. The others nodded, afraid to say otherwise, mostly because as Abdi's followers it was obvious but also because of the weight of this man's presence. Even being at an increased distance from him, you could feel a certain malice come from the man. An aura of evil. Like being in the same room with him would cause you great unease. And, should you anger him, your unease would prove correct.

The Russian then, still holding the Agent down, turned to face the man who was trying to surrender. He held his hand out, and then proceeded to grip on an invisible object. All of a sudden, to the horror of the men in the cabin, the Manager would convulse, then with the resounding snap of bones and the splatter of blood, the man was Force Crushed into nothingness. The handkerchief fell to the ground, and the man's bloody remnants fell as well. With that, the Russian concluded with glee and speaking in cryptically, "When shall we three meet again/In thunder, lightning, or in rain? When the hurlyburly's done/When the battle's lost and won."

The Russian then sniffed the air for a moment. He then said, "No, too far away." The Manager's soul was not within adequate harvesting range...but he was so desperately hungry.....

Keith sensed mass confusion and panic turn to despair from his little hidey hole. He accepted surrenders not based on the white handkerchiefs, which were too far away for him to notice, but in the state of mind of the combatants, which he was able to sense through the Force. Those who withdrew from combat, he left alone. Those who continued to fire their weapons ran the risk of spontaneous combustion. Indeed, Colonel Allaire made sure to incinerate the sugars stored in the bodies of a few more combatant holdouts. Within a couple of moments, the gunfire died down to a mere trickle, and the enemy still was not sure where he was. But this eerie presence in the Force drew nearer...

As the evil Russian disembarked from the convoy, Keith used the Force to amplify his hearing, that he may hear the conversation from two hundred fifty meters away. Meanwhile, the "fresh fighters" off of the convoy, or at least the non-Force-sensitive ones, found that they were not immune from what had befallen the dockworkers; their guns, too, were susceptible to heat warping. But then the Russian Force User did something that Keith most decidedly did not like...

He heard, more than saw, the bones of the Manager, whom he knew only as the first one to surrender to him, crunch a thousand times over. A great evil emanated from this man, nearly as much evil as the Darth Ebolus who, for a time, had enslaved the Colonel, until Master Whitfield had freed him. Furthermore, Colonel Allaire was honor-bound to protect, to the best of his abilities, those who surrendered to him from such horrific deaths from the Dark Side, even if Dornalian Justice might eventually kill them anyway. At least a state execution by firing squad had more dignity about it than getting Force Crushed. Keith suppressed the urge to hurl at such revolting conduct, swallowing his vomit back into his stomach to prevent such vomiting from being heard by the enemy, which would have given away his location.

However, the Colonel also had to balance this obligation against the very real possibility that the Dark Jedi would scare those who surrendered into opening fire on him again with such Dark Tactics. He had to think fast, very fast, and decided that the best course of action was to neutralize all ranged weapons in the area, except his own, that he may not be cut down by crossfire when he rose to challenge the Dark One.

With terrifying efficiency, Colonel Allaire's mind scanned all of the smugglers' minds, with the sole exception of the Dark One, looking for those who still wielded weapons. As he came upon weapons he had previously overlooked, he made sure to flash-melt the barrels, as quickly as could be done. He had not much time before the Dark One killed more of his own men, or found him, a future certainty that he could only stave off for so long, given that he was using the Force to disable so many weapons at once. Though he most certainly did try to muddle his own Force signature long enough to buy a precious minute or so to flash-melt as many remaining weapons as he could. It mattered not whether a smuggler had surrendered--if he held a weapon in his hands, Keith flash-incinerated it. That he was two hundred fifty meters away from the Dark One also helped buy him time, as such distances were not covered instantly if the Dark One did not know teleportation. If the Dark One *did* know how to teleport, so did the Colonel, and the Colonel would simply proceed to teleport elsewhere, and perform his mass-disarmament operation from elsewhere, until such time as he was ready.

When at last Colonel Allaire judged it safe to stand, he did so, taking his nine-foot, three-inch (blade included) naginata up with him. The fires that still raged on the dock cast an eerie glow over his desert camouflage, as those who had so feared the mysterious fires saw their perpetrator for the first time. The White Guy. And those who had feared getting involuntarily self-immolated at Colonel Allaire's hands suddenly knew that they were caught between his hands and those of the Russian. However, one critical difference remained: the White Guy was not looking for gratuitous killing, nor to feast on souls; the Russian wanted to kill the terrified underlings whilst the White Guy would at least make an effort not to, especially given their surrender.

Thus, Colonel Keith Allaire lowered his naginata into the position of a challenge. The Colonel's voice, heard by the smugglers for the first time since the two brothers had been arrested over that Ethiopian Bible, cracked the predawn sky every bit as much as a bullet fired from a high-powered gun. He projected it quite well, that not only the Dark One, but everyone present, be able to hear him.

"May the Dark One come forth! And may justice be done upon him!"

The Russian walked up to what used to be the Manager, and looked at the remains. He sniffed them, disgusted that the soul essence by now had disappeared into the ether. No matter. He would collect more. He had detected another presence, one that seemed to have a crusader's mindset. Like those detectives in Kazan, like the Mothers who wanted him killed, like Father Mikhail in Kazan, who having sheltered him for years as a child from abuse, turned on the Russian when he learned of his ghastly fall to the Dark.

He didn't feel much emotion about the man's death. He simply said, ignoring Keith's challenge initially, "Who would have thought the old man to have so much blood in him?"

He then turned to the Crusader. A man who seemed to have Powers, like he did. A soul on the opposite end of the spectrum, a yin to his yang. He smiled at the Crusader's challenge, which seemed to him to resound with the echo of the heroes of old, challenging the monsters and dragons of the Dark. The Russian simply stood there, and spoke in a gentle, almost eerily soft tone, pointing his finger at Keith, the now disarmed and terrified militiamen holding fast and doing nothing as they witnessed the spectacle playing out in front of them.

"You. I like you! You have a particularly strong power in you.....I could sense something special about you.

You remind me of a man I used to know. A priest who used to shelter me from the abusive people who hated me for my powers, my command of the Force as they call it now. Because I was special. Like you. He had your crusader's instinct. A shame he had to die, because he turned out to be just as naive and barbarous as the abusers he protected me from, when the only thing I did was dare to defend myself using the only way I knew how. He said I had fallen to evil, to Satan! Well, he was the Satanic one."

He then adjusted his glasses, and then said again to Keith, "Tell me something. You are not from around here, are you? Are you an Acolyte? Are you from Kazan? Or are you an adventurer? I am from Russia, and I would like to introduce myself to you. I am Boris Tereshkov, Ph.D. in Literature."

OOC: Don't kill him just yet.

The Colonel did not utter a response to the Russian's questioning, not even disclosing his name to the Dark One. Were it not for the man's utter evil, Keith might have actually bothered answering them. But he had enough difficulties trusting Chin with anything, much less this Dark One who had just Force Crushed one of his own men. Indeed the Orthodox priest of whom Boris spoke had been correct in realizing his former charge was Satanic.

He walked the two hundred fifty meters between himself and Dark One, at normal pace, his naginata in position to smack anyone who interfered. Colonel Allaire was in no mood to suffer literary lectures. His mind focused more upon taking this murderer, this murderer who had so slaughtered one who wished to surrender, off the streets. He cared not that Boris "liked" him; indeed he felt a twinge of dishonor at the comment.

When at last the Colonel was close enough to speak to the Dark One without using the Force to project his voice, he uttered, emotionless, "I did not come here to treat with Dark Persons."

An eerie silence then filled the air. Still failing to actually introduce himself, Colonel Allaire glared into the Russian's eyes, and he was very much in the mood to take a serial killer off the streets...

Boris could feel the Crusader's emotions running high. He couldn't sense exactly what he thought. But he could tell he was indeed like all the other cops, gumshoes, vigilantes, and do-gooders who had opposed him before--just with superpowers. Nothing more.

He held his hands up, and kept his eerie smile up. He then said, shaking his head, "I believe it was Alexander Solzhenitsyn who once said, 'Talent is always conscious of its own abundance, and does not object to sharing.' If you intend to share your knowledge of how to kill a man with a Japanese spear with me, be my guest."

The madman then held his hand up, and gripped it again, saying, "For I will show you one of mine."

He walked over to the lead truck's driver. He then stood next to him, and with a grip of his hand, Force Choked the life out of him as he made a sickening breathing noise, as if he were sucking his last breath away....then, he let the man's body fall, opening the door of the Deuce and a Half. Boris licked his lips, and his eyes turned a deep, unholy shade of black.

The next scene sent the Militiamen running for their lives, piling onto the Land Rovers and trucks in an attempt to get away from this crazy asshole. For then the Manager's bones, the body of the Driver, and some of the more complete remains of the recently immolated then convulsed with a blackened energy. For the bones and bodies then got up, cracked their neck in an imitation of a tough guy getting ready for battle, and howled with the parody of life. With a screech they charged at Keith like howling banshees, as Boris moved to bend the Crusader's spear with his powers, leaping to the side.....

----------------------

Chin saw the flames in the distance. He smiled and said simply, "Good old Colonel...."

He then walked downstairs, making sure to recover his dual pistols first before hand. He had some people to ask, and the market was opening....

Great. Undead Hordes. Keith sighed as apparently this guy was a Necromancer. One of the Darkest uses of the Force around, it meant that as long as there were bodies around, Boris would keep them charging Keith. Unfortunately, Boris had a whole town worth of bodies to go through.

Therefore, it made more sense to deal with Boris first, then the Force Zombies. At least as much as was possible.

A wide sweep of Keith's naginata caught a couple such Zombies in the head, as Keith lighted them on fire. Oh yes, the bodies of the Zombies still contained organic matter to burn. As Boris raised Force Zombies, Keith immolated them, knowing full well that Necromancy was generally weak to Fire. As running flames charged him, Keith burned them hotter, such that they were ash by the time they got to him.

The whole time, the Colonel followed Boris where ever he moved, swiping him, or trying to stab or impale him, with the naginata whenever he had the chance. Of course, the Dark One kept trying to bend the darn thing. Keith could feel torsion in the spear, as he fought to countervail Boris' Force-bending, to keep it straight. It couldn't be good for the metal, and in any case, the Colonel would have to find Jacob Masaki, the Jedi Alchemist, to repair said metal once this little excursion ended...

Boris admired the tenacity of this man. He was truly a challenge. Not like the other would be Crusaders who tried to take him down before. He didn't mind that the zombies fell; there were plenty of dead from the Crusader's own hand that could be turned on him. There was however, the matter of the Yaponski Spear that was being thrust upon him. That would have to be dealt with soon.

Boris felt around, and pulled out a weapon, acquired through his many battles with the law.

--------------------------------

One dreary night in Volgograd, a People's Acolyte had once dared to challenge him, to do the same thing as this Crusader had done. He flashbacked for a moment, recalling how the Acolyte boasted he would bring the Monster to justice.

And he had paid with his life, and his soul--he remembered the Acolyte's Force essence as particularly empowering. Boris found the dead man's lightsaber, and taught himself how to use it by doing the one thing he was good at besides wanton murder--reading and intellectualism.

He studied Miyamoto Musashi's Book of Five Rings, and also read from some Florentine fencing manuals translated into Russian with the help of a TA who graciously knew Italian. Book learning was different from actual combat though, and he was admittedly somewhat clumsy when using the device still.

------------------

But it would have to do to counteract the Crusader. He ducked under one of Keith's strikes, and rolled on the ground, igniting the lightsaber and leaping back up, swiping with an upwards stroke at the Spear whilst summoning another squad of Zombies to flank Keith.

The adrenaline was rushing......

Keith dodged the Dark One's lightsaber, and knew that the time for using his naginata was come to an end. He shoved it through one of the Force Zombie's necks, decapacitating it, but of course the damn thing had to be incinerated as well.

As soon as the spear left the Colonel's hand, a red lightsaber blade flashed from it as the Colonel summoned the lightsaber that he had captured from a Force-sensitive, somewhat-Necromatic creation during the Woodian Civil War. Of course, he had also been required to manufacture one at the Jedi Academy; therefore he could call upon a second as needed. But it was not needed yet. He was supposed to avoid using lightsabers if at all possible, but after all, facing an opponent armed with one was probably sufficient cause to use one himself.

Keith surrounded both himself and Boris in a Ring of Fire, the very air burning, almost as if to create a Circle of Equals, a boundary to define the lightsaber duel. In reality, though, it was more to keep the Force Zombies away than anything else. The Colonel then attacked Boris with his own lightsaber, making a series of hard, quick strikes in the form of Djem So (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lightsaber_combat#Form_V:_Shien_.2F_Djem_So), hoping to strike hard enough to knock Boris' lightsaber straight out of his hands...

Keith surrounded both himself and Boris in a Ring of Fire, the very air burning, almost as if to create a Circle of Equals, a boundary to define the lightsaber duel. In reality, though, it was more to keep the Force Zombies away than anything else. The Colonel then attacked Boris with his own lightsaber, making a series of hard, quick strikes in the form of Djem So (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lightsaber_combat#Form_V:_Shien_.2F_Djem_So), hoping to strike hard enough to knock Boris' lightsaber straight out of his hands...

Boris felt the saber fall from his grip, as the barrage of strikes caused him to drop the saber. Movement limited by the Ring of Fire, he used the Force to pull the blade to him, and then lept up. He decided to use his Force skills to give him an edge here, and he aimed for the Crusader's ankles with the use of Force Choke, aiming to render the anklebones into dust using his powers.

As he did this, he thrust out his saber in a series of jabs, mimicking the Florentine fencing that he had studied before, aiming for the head, chest, and groin. He moved these jabs and himself quickly, to prevent the Crusader from getting an edge on him again.

-----------------------

Chin, meanwhile, visited the market just as it was opening up. His detective's instinct didn't have to tell him that by now, supplies from Father Abdi's caches of fine goods would be approaching their distributors. He used the Force to conceal his presence, as he walked through town, watching the hatchbacks and trucks deliver supplies of guns, khat, and other fineries to the market. He followed one particularly interesting truck in particular, which held enough AK-47s to fight a war in North Korea.

He decided to tail it. He sneaked around street corners, not wanting to make more of a ruckus. He couldn't afford another shootout, not when he had to find out where to hit Father Abdi. This was strictly recon.

Eventually, the truck stopped at a gun dealer. He watched as the man haggled over the price of the load, before eventually settling on several unrefined gold bars and a couple of large bags of khat. Chin then watched the truck drive away, leaving the man to call some of his staff to begin stocking the shelves.

He decided to follow the truck. He wandered around town for about five minutes, following its movements as it went down shortcuts that posed a hazard to life and limb and he waded through some sewers that, were it not for Force Heal and Force Wall, would probably give him tetanus. Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, he spotted its final destination. An innocous building that seemed to have been a hospital in its former life. Now, it served as one of the distribution centers for Abdi's goods. And by the looks of things, it was a busy one.

He smiled, and imprinted the image onto his memory, and the camera function on his communicator. Then, he quickly left, seeking another mode of transport, and maybe some heavier dakka. He wanted to raid this place in style.....

Boris felt the saber fall from his grip, as the barrage of strikes caused him to drop the saber. Movement limited by the Ring of Fire, he used the Force to pull the blade to him, and then lept up. He decided to use his Force skills to give him an edge here, and he aimed for the Crusader's ankles with the use of Force Choke, aiming to render the anklebones into dust using his powers.

As he did this, he thrust out his saber in a series of jabs, mimicking the Florentine fencing that he had studied before, aiming for the head, chest, and groin. He moved these jabs and himself quickly, to prevent the Crusader from getting an edge on him again.

The Colonel felt his military boots tighten as Boris attempted to choke off his ankles, even as Boris recovered from his strikes and thrust at him. Keith parried a couple of Boris' jabs with well practiced ease before seemingly popping into the air. Boris ended up "choking" the pebbles and grains of sand upon which Keith had stood a thousandth of a second before.

He teleported just inside of his own Ring of Fire, the flames warping around him, not burning his skin at all. It was obvious that the White Guy was, unlike Boris, no stranger to up-close-and-personal fights. The Colonel teleported back behind Boris, his lightsaber now turned off. It looked like Boris could now turn around and stab him at will...

But alas! The red blade of light flickered back on in an instant. Keith thought he might try impaling the Dark One's head from its backside this morning...

But alas! The red blade of light flickered back on in an instant. Keith thought he might try impaling the Dark One's head from its backside this morning...

Boris heard he reactivation sound of the lightsaber, and decided to break off combat. This Crusader was proving more than a match for him. Maybe even too much of a match for him. No, he couldn't lose that easily. No!

He used a Force Jump to leap out of the Circle, and land on the ground outside. Boris simply looked at the Crusader, and waved his finger, going "Tsk, tsk, tsk.....Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow! It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, SIGNIFYING NOTHING!"

He then walked up to several of the remaining men who weren't able to escape, and one by one began Force Crushing their throats, sucking their souls up as he walked past their corpses and reanimating them into Zombies. He had a feeling this would not only give him the soul essence he needed to keep fighting, but also it would draw the Crusader to him. After all, the Crusader didn't seem fond of the attack. Too bad for him, by that time he'd have the strength he needed to really use his skills....

He then spotted one of the trucks, the one which had the dead driver in it. He then used his newly reenergized Force Pull to pull the truck towards him, and then he lept inside. He kicked the motor into gear, driving at high speed.....he would take the fight to town.

The coward withdraws from combat. A shame. Keith watched him jump out of his little ring of fire, and get into the vehicle. As Boris Force-crushed observers and sucked their souls dry in greedy, Sithlike lust for power, the Colonel knew that he must kill Boris, and quickly. He quickly used the Force to scan for combustible material inside said vehicle.

Oh yes. A hydrogen fuel cell. All it needed was access to oxygen and a little spark, and the hydrogen and oxygen could be brought to a rather violent reaction.

Keith did not attempt physical pursuit. But before Boris had sped off more than a block, the truck's hood flew up, the fuel cell lid popped open, as if to refill its supply of hydrogen...and then a spark. Boris' mode of transportation made a very pretty explosion.

It was then that the Colonel pursued, immolating Force Zombies as necessary.

The coward withdraws from combat. A shame. Keith watched him jump out of his little ring of fire, and get into the vehicle. As Boris Force-crushed observers and sucked their souls dry in greedy, Sithlike lust for power, the Colonel knew that he must kill Boris, and quickly. He quickly used the Force to scan for combustible material inside said vehicle.

Oh yes. A hydrogen fuel cell. All it needed was access to oxygen and a little spark, and the hydrogen and oxygen could be brought to a rather violent reaction.

Keith did not attempt physical pursuit. But before Boris had sped off more than a block, the truck's hood flew up, the fuel cell lid popped open, as if to refill its supply of hydrogen...and then a spark. Boris' mode of transportation made a very pretty explosion.

It was then that the Colonel pursued, immolating Force Zombies as necessary.

The truck exploded, immolating Boris in a cloud of fire and shards of metal. The only thing that kept him barely alive was the massive soulgorging that he had indulged in before, and he ended up stumbling out of the wreck, barely recognizable to Allaire.

Boris smiled grimly, and then simply replied, "Heh......heh......"

He then stood up, advancing towards the Circle, and thrusting his hand out for one last gasp.....he then cried out, "A little something, Crusader. Some Dickens! 'Dead, men and women, born with heavenly compassion in your hearts. And dying thus around us every day.'"

He then was about to unleash one last attack....

"Was that a threat?" Colonel Allaire asked coolly, as he walked up to Boris, who looked more like a walking corpse, burned to a crisp, than an actual person. Before Boris replied, however, a flash of red swung quick and hard for his neck...

"Was that a threat?" Colonel Allaire asked coolly, as he walked up to Boris, who looked more like a walking corpse, burned to a crisp, than an actual person. Before Boris replied, however, a flash of red swung quick and hard for his neck...

And with that, the deed was done. Allaire could feel a rush of cold air, and a sound which resembled the yell of tortured souls as Boris' body fell to the ground, his head rolling into the Red Sea. No blood came out, only a feeling of relief, now that the evil was gone.

Boris Tereshkov, the Monster of Kazan who had caused so much pain, had finally met his match on a desolate highway, next to a smuggler's den, in Somalia. Far from home, he would not be missed.

One lone survivor peeked over his rock, and witnessed the madman go down like a ton of bricks. He then walked out, crying, "I surrender!"

And so it was, Colonel Keith Allaire watching Boris Tereshkov's body going down with a thud, his severed head rolling down the beach until an ocean wave took it, never to be seen again. He felt a sudden chill in the air, then it vanished. He certainly felt no sadness for the madman. Only for those tormented souls whom Keith had just liberated from Tereshkov's demented mind. He, too, sensed the souls that Tereshkov had so wantonly slurped.

"Go now, and rest in peace," the Colonel said, surprisingly quietly and serenely to the departed souls liberated from their enslavement. Almost as if he did not believe Boris was dead, he went and kicked his corpse in the nuts, just to make sure. No response.

At this, he summoned his naginata, cast aside earlier, and frowned as he inspected it. It was still usable, still straight even, but there were visible twists in the shaft, almost like a wrought-iron fence, though not as obvious, from the tug-of-war that he had fought with Tereshkov over his attempts to bend it into uselessness. He could either melt it down and reforge it again, or let a Jedi Alchemist deal with it should the opportunity arise. Right now, he had no time for the former.

Colonel Allaire's eyes then gazed coldly at the person surrendering to him, the sun rising almost directly behind him. "You will take me," he demanded, "to this Father Abdi."

The surrendering prisoner looked about. Most of the fleeing men had taken the usable Land Rovers and Deuces....and the stupid Russkie had let one get blown up. So, there was only one car left. A really tiny, rusty nasty Trabant. Once could almost smell the macrame holding the engine together and the paper shell that was a sad excuse for the body.

He then looked about, and said, shrugging, "Okay....but I only have this little auto to take you in. It won't be comfortable, and it won't be sure to work all that well."

He then got inside the auto, and after a while, managed to hotwire it into action. This being his first time doing so, he kept yelping as the hot contacts and the sparks from the shoddy East German construction, cursing "FUCK!" as one large shower sprayed him in the face, barely missing his eyes. Eventually, the machine sputtered to life, the ancient engine puttering, albeit unhealthily.

He then sat down in the driver's seat, and drove it up to Allaire, motioning for him to get in.

"Yeah, and I captured a motorcycle from these freaks, but it is a couple miles north, and it is not a two-seater, either." Keith sighed as he got in. At least he is not trying to kill me, though the asbestos in the seat might, he thought to himself.

He got in the back seat, just in case he tried to pull anything. Of course, his POW was probably too scared to try it.

"Yeah, and I captured a motorcycle from these freaks, but it is a couple miles north, and it is not a two-seater, either." Keith sighed as he got in. At least he is not trying to kill me, though the asbestos in the seat might, he thought to himself.

He got in the back seat, just in case he tried to pull anything. Of course, his POW was probably too scared to try it.

The driver then steered the unreliable little vehicle towards town. He continually prayed to Allah that the machine would not break down; that he would not be seen ferrying the White Guy by his fellow fighters and be forced to suffer for it. Several times, plumes of black smoke--and by plumes, we mean miniature cumulonimbus clouds--erupted from the rear and front as he drove into town.

The man drove into a particularly rough looking neighboorhood, telling Allaire, "This is where Father Abdi lives. As you can see, he values his security."

Most of Bargal had obviously seen better days, but this neighboorhood looked like it could give a man tetanus just by looking at it the wrong way. Men with guns wandered around, chewing khat and patrolling in old pickups and on foot. Some of these men, however looked different than your usual Somali fighter. Some of them had desert camo, like Allaire's, and wore body armor and somewhat more sophisticated equipment and guns, including what looked like Gauss Rifles from the Red Army and shotguns, as well as what looked to be defensive positions. Some of the women even had pronounced cat ears and prehensile tails, and could be seen shouting at the others to do this, do that. And, a few would look strangely deformed, yet would give off faint psychic readings.....

The fighter then stopped in an alley, the engine finally dying out. He then quietly said, "Shit." He then turned to Allaire, and then said, "The engine's dead."

As Allaire was stuck in the alley, Chin was about to make some noise. Some loud noise...

After haggling with the gun shop owner he had met before for a KS-23 shotgun, some phosphorous shells, and some more appropriate shells, as well as a Lee Enfield rifle--he regretfully had to use the Jedi Mind Trick in order to speed things along and prevent himself from being saddled with six bags of khat--he decided to arrive in style. Or something totally ironic.

He walked into a bicycle shop, or something that passed for one, plopped a wad of New Dornalian Dollar bills on the table--he was running low on gold sovereigns by now--and then asked for, "The best bicycle you have, and fill the tires please."

The clerk nodded, and came back after several minutes with what looked like a secondhand girls' bike. Chin looked at him with a frown. He then looked about for any spotters, and then asked, "Do you have anything else?"

The clerk then sighed and looked around the back. He found something more masculine, an old mountain bike that had obviously seen better days. Chen then pulled out a small ruler, did the tread test, and then squeezed the tires. Satisfied, he walked out with the bike, leaving the clerk to collect the money.

Riding on his new bike, he used Force Speed to get him gracefully to the warehouse. Then, timing his entrance to match that of then the loading dock of the old hospital opened, he pedaled at high speed, executing Force Speed and aiming for a rise.

The result was a "sweet jump." As he flew through the air, he aimed for the door, which was now closing. The guards noticed him, and moved to get it shut faster, before this crazy could get in.

But, Chin did. With a power slide, he slammed into two guards, and then whipped out his dual pistols, emptying them into two more that dared to respond. He then walked up to one of the crates, and kicked it open, revealing what looked like a New Dornalian Red Army Gauss Rifle with an underslung grenade launcher. He ditched the Lee-Enfield, and then picked it up, along with several magazines and lots of 40mm grenades. He then entered the complex in earnest....

The driver then steered the unreliable little vehicle towards town. He continually prayed to Allah that the machine would not break down; that he would not be seen ferrying the White Guy by his fellow fighters and be forced to suffer for it. Several times, plumes of black smoke--and by plumes, we mean miniature cumulonimbus clouds--erupted from the rear and front as he drove into town.

The man drove into a particularly rough looking neighboorhood, telling Allaire, "This is where Father Abdi lives. As you can see, he values his security."

Most of Bargal had obviously seen better days, but this neighboorhood looked like it could give a man tetanus just by looking at it the wrong way. Men with guns wandered around, chewing khat and patrolling in old pickups and on foot. Some of these men, however looked different than your usual Somali fighter. Some of them had desert camo, like Allaire's, and wore body armor and somewhat more sophisticated equipment and guns, including what looked like Gauss Rifles from the Red Army and shotguns, as well as what looked to be defensive positions. Some of the women even had pronounced cat ears and prehensile tails, and could be seen shouting at the others to do this, do that. And, a few would look strangely deformed, yet would give off faint psychic readings.....

The fighter then stopped in an alley, the engine finally dying out. He then quietly said, "Shit." He then turned to Allaire, and then said, "The engine's dead."

"What, you forgot how to change the oil on this thing?" Keith quipped, in a somewhat (but not uncontrollably) irate tone of voice. "I suppose we have to finish the journey on foot. How far away are we?"

He did not relish the thought of getting out, especially given the apparent psykers in the area. At least they were not as powerful as Boris, or at least they did not seem to be. Still, he held his naginata as he reluctantly opened the door, well prepared for an ambush.

The streets also apparently lacked for sanitation. He considered literally burning the trash to flash-sanitize the ground upon which he would end up walking, but then again his military-issue boots were thick enough for anything save needles sticking straight up, and burning the ground in front of him would make him too obvious. Instead, syringes and other nasties seemed to roll away from where he stepped; Keith kept it subtle. Still, he would have to clean sludge from his boots later.

"What, you forgot how to change the oil on this thing?" Keith quipped, in a somewhat (but not uncontrollably) irate tone of voice. "I suppose we have to finish the journey on foot. How far away are we?"

He did not relish the thought of getting out, especially given the apparent psykers in the area. At least they were not as powerful as Boris, or at least they did not seem to be. Still, he held his naginata as he reluctantly opened the door, well prepared for an ambush.

The streets also apparently lacked for sanitation. He considered literally burning the trash to flash-sanitize the ground upon which he would end up walking, but then again his military-issue boots were thick enough for anything save needles sticking straight up, and burning the ground in front of him would make him too obvious. Instead, syringes and other nasties seemed to roll away from where he stepped; Keith kept it subtle. Still, he would have to clean sludge from his boots later.

The fighter pulled out his rifle, looking about. He then replied to Keith, just as irate as he was about the Trabant's failure to cooperate, "Very funny, Yankee. Father Abdi's penthouse is about a block down. Follow me."

Peering out of the alleyway, the fighter knew the situation was too much. The moment he was seen with the Yankee, he knew the guards would gun him down. Posthaste. He then walked back into the alley, past the wreck, and spotted a small, desolate path through the rear of some of the buildings here. He looked through the windows. A sniper was waiting, smoking a cigarette and cradling a Dragunov.

Damn. It was either take the obvious road, and get shot, or take the stealthy way, and risk getting spotted by the snipers.

The driver then said, pointing to the path: "Yankee, I have spotted another road for us to take. One that may get us there without notice. However, it requires you kill a sniper. Can you do that?"

...not before of course, firing some grenades into the arms cache, setting it ablaze. He figured it wouldn't be healthy to let Father Abdi have any more guns for his goons.....

Of course, Chin ducked behind the cover of Force Wall to protect himself from the shrapnel, jumping out of the room.

-----------------------------

The explosions got the attention of everybody in the complex, and the guards immediately set about on a quest to find what happened to the cache, who caused the explosion, and make said person pay. Not that it would be easy of course. Though they did have people Chin didn't count on. Like those whom Allaire would face, some of the Squad leaders who were foreign mercenaries from Abdi's guard unit were distinctly mutated, having injected themselves with the illegal, and decidedly deadly black market combat enhancements known as Plasmids. Derived from a private venture, they had been stolen and leaked onto the black market, providing those criminals who could afford them powers to be reckoned with.

One of those that could afford the power of Plasmids was the woman overseeing security for the facility. Not as crazed as Boris, she was a violent character nonetheless, who preferred a less esoteric but bloody approach to solving problems....and when she heard about the break in, she slammed her fists down, grabbed a heavy machine gun, and then ran out, going "STOP HIM!"

--------------------------

Chin ducked into a corner as a patrol passed by. Fortunately, the Force kept him hidden, as he left the corner and quickly skittered to a room full of khat. He then kicked the doors opened, and surprised the guards inside, who raised their rifles to shoot back. Chin pulled the guns out of their hands using the Force, and then aimed his rifle at them. He then said, "Out. NOW!"

One of the men tried to take his gun back, and his hand was nearly blown off. In response, the others stepped back, and Chin then motioned with his gun to the door, glaring. The guards did as told, running as Chin then launched a grenade into the khat stash, setting it on fire.

As he walked out though, he sensed....psychic energy....and then quickly ducked and used the Force to shove away a sudden and nasty swarm of bees that appeared in his face into the room he was just in, shutting the doors quickly. A couple stung him, and it hurt.

He then turned to see a man with his sleeve unrolled and his arm closing up in a most grotesque manner, backed by a squad of guards. Chin looked at the man and shook his head, saying, "Now that's just gross."

Chin then ducked into the next hall over, and fired a grenade into the pack, as it moved to charge him. He then used the Force to sweep them from their feet, in case of survivors.

He then called the Internal Security Bureau Civil Patrol office, and then said, "CP? Send some men here to these coordinates. There's been some explosions." He then quickly sent them the coordinates, and pulled out his KS-23 shotgun. Loading it, he plowed through another cache before he moved to clear the next room, and the next.......before long, the sound of trucks could be heard, as the men tried to get their supplies out....

The prisoner might be surprised to hear Keith's reply as a voice in his head, via one-way Force telepathy. Aff. I could do that, but would disabling his gun suffice? Apparently you forgot about all of the guns that slagged themselves on the beach. That was me. And no you are not crazy, as I can communicate via telepathy if I must.

Keith quickly located the sniper on the roof, and waited for the prisoner's response...

The prisoner might be surprised to hear Keith's reply as a voice in his head, via one-way Force telepathy. Aff. I could do that, but would disabling his gun suffice? Apparently you forgot about all of the guns that slagged themselves on the beach. That was me. And no you are not crazy, as I can communicate via telepathy if I must.

Keith quickly located the sniper on the roof, and waited for the prisoner's response...

The prisoner replied, shaking his head, "Yes. That. Do what you must."

The prisoner could only watch with interest as the barrel of the Dragunov that scared him glowed bright red. Keith had a look of concentration on his face, but little more. The barrel bent slightly, the rifling on the inside of the barrel melted away, and Keith flash-froze the barrel, bent upwards, a few seconds later, using a Jedi Mind Trick to keep the sniper too narrowly focused on what had happened to his rifle to pay any attention to him.

Quickly. He is preoccupied at the moment. The Colonel gave his POW a quick shove to reinforce the message that he needed to hurry up.

The driver nodded, and quickly led the Colonel through the alley. He stepped around the muck as best as possible. The prisoner's own shoes, a worn pair of tennis shoes, were a bit inadequate to the task at hand, and this showed as the man got slightly nervous.

As the man fiddled with his gun, the driver eventually led Allaire to a street, where a four story building lay. Snipers were all over its perches, and more of the mercenaries patrolled the outside.

The driver then said, "Here it is."

Colonel Allaire nodded, naginata still in hand. Snipers were easily dealt with. Keith simply slagged their sniper rifle barrels as he had the earlier sniper's gun, and used Mind Tricks to keep their attention focused solely on their destroyed weapons.

He then, surprisingly politely, knocked on the door, using the Force to hide his own identity. Anyone looking at him who was not Force-sensitive would think he was darker-skinned than he really was, thus obscuring his identity as "The White Guy," at least partially. "I have some news for Father Abdi," he spoke into an intercom next to the door.

He then, surprisingly politely, knocked on the door, using the Force to hide his own identity. Anyone looking at him who was not Force-sensitive would think he was darker-skinned than he really was, thus obscuring his identity as "The White Guy," at least partially. "I have some news for Father Abdi," he spoke into an intercom next to the door.

A Mexican accented voice then angrily replied, "Hold on!"

Five minutes later, the door opened. A short, petite woman, with cat ears, a prehensile tail, large sunglasses, and a cigar that looked oversized even for her sticking out of her mouth greeted the Colonel with a nod. She swung a large, menacing looking shotgun onto her shoulder, and spat the cigar onto the ground. The woman then stepped on it, muttering some curses in Spanish. The two guards who obviously were equipped with Plasmids, judging by their slight deformities, said nothing, holding onto Tartakovsky lasguns.

The woman then walked up to the Colonel, and shadowed him for several minutes. Looking him over, the Colonel's Force powers would ensure he passed muster. She then said, curtly "Father Abdi wants to know what you want."

Keith assented, somewhat grudgingly, to the catlady's search, knowing full well the necessity of it. Of course, he was well armed. As was any good Somali, much less one worthy of speaking to the Father Abdi. He had a bad feeling about two of the guards, however.

"I bring news that will interest Father Abdi," he replied. To sweeten the deal, he added, "and a business proposal."

Keith assented, somewhat grudgingly, to the catlady's search, knowing full well the necessity of it. Of course, he was well armed. As was any good Somali, much less one worthy of speaking to the Father Abdi. He had a bad feeling about two of the guards, however.

"I bring news that will interest Father Abdi," he replied. To sweeten the deal, he added, "and a business proposal."

Trained to be suspicious of strangers offering "business proposals," the catlady fixed a strong glare at the Colonel. Something about this man seemed a little off. Then again, strangers always seemed a bit off. She sniffed the air, and gave him a couple of pokes with the butt of her shotgun. Not strong enough to do anything, but hard enough to for him to feel it. She then pat him down; he was armed alright.

After pacing around him some more for several minutes, she got frustrated. This guy didn't seem to have anything wrong with him. Indeed, for all she knew, his story checked out. But, there was something up....the Force obscured it, but her sixth sense was acting up today, and she didn't like it.

She then said, "Alright. You may go." Then, she walked behind him and cocked her shotgun, aiming it at the small of his back. The catlady then insisted, "No funny shit. Or I will reduce you to a smear. Now, let's go."

She then led the Colonel into an elevator, which went to the penthouse....

Colonel Allaire nodded that he would not try any "funny shit." Of course, it was probably a good thing that the lady had not seen how he dealt with guns. He accepted the shotgun prodded into his back, but kept a wary Force-eye on the thing's trigger, just in case he needed to stop a shotgun slug in the middle of its barrel.

After seeing the elevator, Keith wondered if the stairs might be safer, but decided that objecting was probably riskier than getting stuck in the elevator. He let the lady lead him to Father Abdi...

Colonel Allaire nodded that he would not try any "funny shit." Of course, it was probably a good thing that the lady had not seen how he dealt with guns. He accepted the shotgun prodded into his back, but kept a wary Force-eye on the thing's trigger, just in case he needed to stop a shotgun slug in the middle of its barrel.

After seeing the elevator, Keith wondered if the stairs might be safer, but decided that objecting was probably riskier than getting stuck in the elevator. He let the lady lead him to Father Abdi...

The elevator opened when it hit the first level of the penthouse, a well-decorated, multitiered structure befitting a man of Abdi's status. Art both kitschy and tasteful hung from the walls, and numerous Persian rugs were in copious supply.

The catlady shoved the shotgun into the Colonel's back, and said, "MOVE!" as the group entered the room. Father Abdi then showed up on the second level, his .357 Magnum in hand and flanked by several bodyguards.

He then held his hands up and said, "So, you see me at last! Forgive me for not coming down, I was slightly distracted. Tell me, who are you?"

Upon getting prodded with the shotgun to the back, Keith moved, alright. He entered the penthouse, seemingly not all that impressed. Perhaps that had something to do with his idea of where all this wealth had come from, i.e. Illicit Activities. Of course, his face did not betray such thoughts, that he thought all of this $hite illegal. On the surface, he merely looked...unimpressed.

His Force-senses were on full alert for any stunts to be pulled by anyone other than himself; he still clutched his naginata, prepared to use it on zero notice to deflect bullets as a lightsaber deflects blasters. However, he deliberately made sure to prevent his voice from revealing his hair-trigger readiness, and indeed, he actually gave a polite bow to Father Abdi. "I stated to your security that I come bearing news, and indeed I do," he said politely. "I am Colonel Keith Allaire, and I regret to bring you news that your associate, Boris Tereshkov, is deceased."

Upon getting prodded with the shotgun to the back, Keith moved, alright. He entered the penthouse, seemingly not all that impressed. Perhaps that had something to do with his idea of where all this wealth had come from, i.e. Illicit Activities. Of course, his face did not betray such thoughts, that he thought all of this $hite illegal. On the surface, he merely looked...unimpressed.

His Force-senses were on full alert for any stunts to be pulled by anyone other than himself; he still clutched his naginata, prepared to use it on zero notice to deflect bullets as a lightsaber deflects blasters. However, he deliberately made sure to prevent his voice from revealing his hair-trigger readiness, and indeed, he actually gave a polite bow to Father Abdi. "I stated to your security that I come bearing news, and indeed I do," he said politely. "I am Colonel Keith Allaire, and I regret to bring you news that your associate, Boris Tereshkov, is deceased."

Abdi then glared at the Colonel. He then gripped the banister of the ledge he was standing on as he said, "So, you killed the Russian. You must also have destroyed the docks I use to deliver goods to these people. Word comes to me swiftly, especially when my clients complain to me."

His next words were terse, and certainly full of rising anger.

"The Russian I am thankful you killed. He was beginning to get on my nerves, with his parlor tricks. The docks, however, I am not happy about."

He then said, "I have no further business with you."

Father Abdi then walked out, but not before motioning to his men. He also pulled what looked like a fire alarm, resulting in a loud klaxon blaring in the complex. And with that, the bodyguards opened fire.....and more would surely be coming.

The Colonel's naginata suddenly became nothing more than a black blur, as Keith wielded it much like a lightsaber. Bullets pinged harmlessly off of the thing, riddling it with tiny dents, and the shells fell to the floor in front of Keith. It was most unfortunate that the impact against the spear absorbed enough energy to keep the bullets from ricocheting back to the firer, but alas, these were not blaster bolts. Meanwhile, he also threw up a Force Wall around himself, just in case some of the bullets got through, but that was quite rare indeed.

As he deflected the bullets and expertly used the naginata to clear more than four hundred square feet of space around him from any would-be melee attackers, he also tracked Father Abdi through the Force. Father Abdi would be even more upset to see hallway doors slam shut and lock themselves straight in his face, as the Colonel used the Force for his own "parlor tricks." Were Abdi to turn around, the doors slammed shut in the opposite direction as well, hopefully trapping Father Abdi near the site of the battle and delaying reinforcements simultaneously.

After the doors were done, Keith turned his attention to melting enemy gun barrels, even as he used his naginata to deflect unwanted enemy attention from himself, along with the occasional Force Pull straight into its sharp end...

After the doors were done, Keith turned his attention to melting enemy gun barrels, even as he used his naginata to deflect unwanted enemy attention from himself, along with the occasional Force Pull straight into its sharp end...

Shock registered on Father Abdi's face as he saw the doors shut in front of him. Was it the wind? No. The Force didn't exist, did it? He turned around, and saw his gun barrel melting. He dropped it, and for a moment, became convinced that maybe, just maybe, this was no parlor trick after all. He then turned and witnessed a scene out of hell.

His elite bodyguards were in a hell of a fight. One guy got run through with the spear, his kevlar and Shield Steel PCV not quite holding up to the stresses of the Pull and sharp point combined. The others, having lost control of their guns, began either using knives, more guns they pulled out of ankle holsters or shoulder holsters.

--------------

The catgirl with the gun pointed to Keith's back found her KS-23 useless. She threw it down, and then pulled a large knife out of her holster. Crying out "LEY JACINTA!" with a furious chant, she raised her hand, a gout of lightning shooting out towards Keith.

The two guards with the Catgirl, meanwhile, held out their hands. Their wrists then began bubbling, and before long, a swarm of bees would fly out of them, aimed straight for Keith's head as well. Before long, the guards with Plasmid powers began using them on this guy, ducking behind sculptures and furniture to try and get this guy with more insect swarms, electricity, and what appeared to be a whole range of esoteric abilities, ranging from Ice, to small tornadoes.

--------------------------

More bodyguards replied to the klaxon and tried taking the elevator up. However, upon entry, they would find the doors suddenly hard to open. Thus, some of the guards began going back down, and bringing up chainsaws to try and cut through.....

Everyone in the same room as Keith suddenly found themselves slammed into the wall, courtesy of a nearly reflexive Force telekinesis. Keith hoped that such would stun a few of the lesser bodyguards for a couple of moments. He needed to deal with the real threats: 1) these people who were able to call upon mystical powers similar to his, and 2) reinforcements.

Of course, turning the enemy's attacks against the enemy usually made a good tactic.

Bees crashed into Keith's Force Wall, stopped at some random point in the air and unable to proceed. Though meant for the bullets, it also kept all physical objects out. Including Keith's naginata, as it now floated in the air, in front of Keith and away from his hands, to absorb the electrical attack. Oh, yes, that spear built up a hell of a lot of static electricity, especially as the Colonel made sure that it was not grounded. It then proceeded to smack one of the bee wielders in the head, still absorbing electrical shock.

Colonel Allaire used the Force to keep himself warm even in the face of the Ice Attacks, and hell, he figured out the best way to neutralize Ice was to show his attackers that Ice was perfectly useless in the face of a thermokinetic. Seeking to turn their own enhancements against him, Keith chilled the entire room to a subzero temperature, and frost flash-formed on the walls right up to the doors that had locked Father Abdi in. The tornadoes were somewhat problematic, but Keith reformed his Force Wall into more of a cylinder, so that excess air would be diverted around it. It wasn't perfect, moderate winds could still get through, as the Force Wall was semi-permeable (else its user would suffocate), but at least it kept the full-blown tornadoes out. Hopefully the extreme cold would kill the bees as well, or at least freeze their wings so they couldn't try stinging him. Yes, if air blew with the force of a projectile, the Force Wall would keep it out, same as a bullet...

His naginata now turned to building up static from the electrical attacks directed at Keith, and shocking Keith's enemies, he pulled out his Makarov pistol, and used telekinesis attacks to keep would-be melee attackers away from him as required. He started shooting at people's heads, knowing his Force Wall would not last forever. And he knew that reinforcements would mean more trouble. But he had an idea.

Reaching out with the Force, he checked his senses for vertical movement of guards, and found it. An elevator fire should delay reinforcements for a while. Oh yes. Keith reached out for one of the guards on the elevator and made him spontaneously combust, burning so hot that it started to melt the elevator controls...

A thrown knife stopped three inches short of Keith's face while he set the elevator on fire. That was close, too close. He decided he had better immolate the electricity user, so he could reclaim his naginata and wield it on the rest of these bastards...

Of course, turning the enemy's attacks against the enemy usually made a good tactic.

Bees crashed into Keith's Force Wall, stopped at some random point in the air and unable to proceed. Though meant for the bullets, it also kept all physical objects out. Including Keith's naginata, as it now floated in the air, in front of Keith and away from his hands, to absorb the electrical attack. Oh, yes, that spear built up a hell of a lot of static electricity, especially as the Colonel made sure that it was not grounded. It then proceeded to smack one of the bee wielders in the head, still absorbing electrical shock.

Colonel Allaire used the Force to keep himself warm even in the face of the Ice Attacks, and hell, he figured out the best way to neutralize Ice was to show his attackers that Ice was perfectly useless in the face of a thermokinetic. Seeking to turn their own enhancements against him, Keith chilled the entire room to a subzero temperature, and frost flash-formed on the walls right up to the doors that had locked Father Abdi in. The tornadoes were somewhat problematic, but Keith reformed his Force Wall into more of a cylinder, so that excess air would be diverted around it. It wasn't perfect, moderate winds could still get through, as the Force Wall was semi-permeable (else its user would suffocate), but at least it kept the full-blown tornadoes out. Hopefully the extreme cold would kill the bees as well, or at least freeze their wings so they couldn't try stinging him. Yes, if air blew with the force of a projectile, the Force Wall would keep it out, same as a bullet...

The guards flew against the wall, getting up and barely recovering when one of their own was knocked down again by the nasty static shock from the naginata. They were then subjected to freezing temperatures, the room chilling to frigid levels in what seemed to be a mockery of their Ice Plasmids writ large and making the users of the Insect Swarm Plasmids suddenly feel like they should have invested in something else. Well, at least the Ice Plasmid users didn't feel that bad.

Abdi got very, very angry. Teeth chattering, he cried out, "Y-you bas-bastards! Go to the gun locker! IT'S WHY I INSTALLED IT!"

The mercenaries then showed why they were actually hired by Abdi. The tornado Plasmid users used their winds to pin Keith down, or at least try to. They couldn't use the wind itself to do so, but they could force him to remain in place. Meanwhile, some of the mercs began running to other parts of the apartment to find that locker....


His naginata now turned to building up static from the electrical attacks directed at Keith, and shocking Keith's enemies, he pulled out his Makarov pistol, and used telekinesis attacks to keep would-be melee attackers away from him as required. He started shooting at people's heads, knowing his Force Wall would not last forever. And he knew that reinforcements would mean more trouble. But he had an idea.

Reaching out with the Force, he checked his senses for vertical movement of guards, and found it. An elevator fire should delay reinforcements for a while. Oh yes. Keith reached out for one of the guards on the elevator and made him spontaneously combust, burning so hot that it started to melt the elevator controls...

Which is of course, why after one guy was taken down by Keith, everybody decided to keep their distance from this asshole. Still, the gunshots and the longdistance assaults kept the mercs on their toes, as they responded with their own Ice Plasmids to try and freeze Keith in place--or at least trap him in his bubble. Three were taken down, and the tornado men struggled to keep up.

The mercenaries were a bit busy trying to cut the door open with their large industrial chainsaw, when they heard a woosh sound. Then, they felt heat. Then, they saw the walls and controls catch fire.....

At that point, two of the mercenaries moved to try and put the fire out. One of them was an Ice Plasmid user, and tried to use his ice to freeze the fires and put them out. The other simply stomped on them.

The rest of the mercenaries frantically tried to work more quickly, increasing the speed on the chainsaw and pushing it harder against the door. Some damage began occurring, though not enough for their satisfaction.

A thrown knife stopped three inches short of Keith's face while he set the elevator on fire. That was close, too close. He decided he had better immolate the electricity user, so he could reclaim his naginata and wield it on the rest of these bastards...

The catgirl then felt her body getting very warm. Then, she wouldn't feel much of anything at all, except lots of pain; her body caught fire and she howled in pain, screaming "FUCK!" as she dove into another corner of the room. She tried to stop, drop and roll, to put out the fire now decidedly posing a risk to her life. For now, she was out of commission, throwing at best weak static bolts.....

Colonel Allaire made sure to complete his immolation of the electricity user, speeding up the burning of the starches in her body until it burned a bright blue straight to her bone. With Electricity Girl out of the way, the Colonel reclaimed his naginata, making sure to discharge its static on some poor sod first, and started deflecting bullets and spearing people with it, assisted, of course, by Force Pull. Now those Wind Element users had better watch out!

Of course, Colonel Allaire also heard Abdi's comments about the gun locker, and decided that it probably should be welded shut. Judging by the mad dash to said locker on the part of the mercenaries, finding it would not be terribly difficult either. Of course, considering that the parties were all locked in, getting to the locker might be difficult. But the more weak-minded of them betrayed its location anyway.

Everyone within a few meters heard a *pop* as the Colonel seemed to vanish into thin air, reappearing in the hallway a second later, probably to escape those who were trying to pin him down with wind. The Colonel smirked as he used the Force to weld the gun locker shut. If anyone got too close to it, he would blow it as well.

Now, back to the elevator. He sensed it getting cold in there, in an apparent attempt to douse his elevator fire. No matter. Teleporting back to the penthouse stateroom, and using the naginata to clear a large space around him, he focused his Force abilities on the pulley that hauled the elevator up and down for a couple of seconds. He made sure to heat it enough so that it would break from weakness in the metal. That would render the elevator inoperable!

Now, back to the Wind Plasmid wielders...

Colonel Allaire made sure to complete his immolation of the electricity user, speeding up the burning of the starches in her body until it burned a bright blue straight to her bone. With Electricity Girl out of the way, the Colonel reclaimed his naginata, making sure to discharge its static on some poor sod first, and started deflecting bullets and spearing people with it, assisted, of course, by Force Pull. Now those Wind Element users had better watch out!

Of course, Colonel Allaire also heard Abdi's comments about the gun locker, and decided that it probably should be welded shut. Judging by the mad dash to said locker on the part of the mercenaries, finding it would not be terribly difficult either. Of course, considering that the parties were all locked in, getting to the locker might be difficult. But the more weak-minded of them betrayed its location anyway.

Everyone within a few meters heard a *pop* as the Colonel seemed to vanish into thin air, reappearing in the hallway a second later, probably to escape those who were trying to pin him down with wind. The Colonel smirked as he used the Force to weld the gun locker shut. If anyone got too close to it, he would blow it as well.

Now, back to the elevator. He sensed it getting cold in there, in an apparent attempt to douse his elevator fire. No matter. Teleporting back to the penthouse stateroom, and using the naginata to clear a large space around him, he focused his Force abilities on the pulley that hauled the elevator up and down for a couple of seconds. He made sure to heat it enough so that it would break from weakness in the metal. That would render the elevator inoperable!

Now, back to the Wind Plasmid wielders...

The catgirl finally evaporated into nothingness, flaring up and turning into ashes thanks to Keith's final act of thermal assault.

Undeterred by this, the guards kept up the attack. However, they had reason for pause, as the Colonel got his naginata back and began going to work on the mercs in the room. One guy was incapacitated by the static blast, and before long, several others became grisly shish-kabobs.

The mercs decided to break combat. They had to retreat to the gun locker. Leaving a couple of brave souls to guard the Wind Plasmid users, they ran to the locker, only to find Keith welding it shut. He then disappeared before they could attack, and then heard a rumbling sound and screams. The elevator meant to deliver reinforcements had given way, and was about to take its passengers for a nasty fall. Only the fact Samuel Otis invented practical safety mechanisms saved the men onboard, who were forced to break open the ceiling hatch of the elevator, now stuck in mid shaft, and begin climbing the rickety emergency ladder to the top of the shaft.

The reinforcements at the bottom of the shaft heard the sounds of the elevator malfunctioning, and then immediately took the long way around. There were stairs leading to Father Abdi's penthouse and a service elevator....but it would take some time to reach them.

With the Wind Plasmid users now mostly isolated from their comrades, they withdrew, running low on vital Eve energy. Ducking behind the cover of a garish reproduction of Rodin's The Thinker, they took turns covering for one another and injecting themselves with blue electrolyte solution containing the energy needed for the Plasmid attacks....

Oh, there would be more screams. Colonel Allaire made sure of that.

Administering blunt blows to the head with the naginata's shaft, or outright impaling them, Colonel Allaire made sure that any flunkies that went after him while he pursued the Wind Plasmid users met a very painful outcome. The list of enemies was starting to thin noticeably, at least the list of enemies that could actually reach him, whereupon the Colonel could deal with the rest of the flunkies trying to get in at his leisure. Oh, yes. He knew how to bottleneck a building quite well.

The Plasmid Users' cover might save them from the path of a bullet, or a spear, but alas, it did not block the use of the Force. Keith focused his attention on immolating the Wind Plasmid mercenaries as they reloaded, taking full advantage of their vulnerability, keeping his naginata in hand to deal with any interlopers, and mounting another Force Wall to deflect any bullets that might come from newly found functional guns...

After the Wind Element users were properly taken care of, the true fun could begin.

Oh, there would be more screams. Colonel Allaire made sure of that.

Administering blunt blows to the head with the naginata's shaft, or outright impaling them, Colonel Allaire made sure that any flunkies that went after him while he pursued the Wind Plasmid users met a very painful outcome. The list of enemies was starting to thin noticeably, at least the list of enemies that could actually reach him, whereupon the Colonel could deal with the rest of the flunkies trying to get in at his leisure. Oh, yes. He knew how to bottleneck a building quite well.

The Plasmid Users' cover might save them from the path of a bullet, or a spear, but alas, it did not block the use of the Force. Keith focused his attention on immolating the Wind Plasmid mercenaries as they reloaded, taking full advantage of their vulnerability, keeping his naginata in hand to deal with any interlopers, and mounting another Force Wall to deflect any bullets that might come from newly found functional guns...

After the Wind Element users were properly taken care of, the true fun could begin.

With most of the bodyguards in the room wiped out, Abdi had nowhere to run, and certainly nowhere to hide. And no gun either--his prized gilded .357 Magnum was now a useless pile of slag.

Abdi was now beginning to get somewhat scared. Inwardly, he had come to the reluctant conclusion that Boris had not drilled into him. The Force did exist. And, it was going to kill him someday. Of course, that someday happened to be now.

Outwardly, however, he continued to be defiant. Searching his person for something to fight with, he pulled out a bowie knife--a particularly large one, suitable for carving all manner of things up. He then cried out, "So you killed my guards! You know more will come, yes? I've got an entire army to use on you."

A phone on his hip then went off.

"Yes?"

It was the head of security from the Warehouse Chin was raiding. She was crying out, "Boss! The warehouse....everything....it is ruined! Some crazy Chinese sauntered in here and began destroying everything! We keep funneling in men, but he keeps coming! The cops are involved! We're finis--"

The phone cut out.

Abdi then got up and put the phone away. Damn. There was nothing to go back to--even if he made it out of here alive, there would be ISB-CP waiting for him, along with the Chinese who was presumably colluding with this guy. He then walked to the banister and said, "So, you've taken out my guards and my main distribution center. What else do you want?"

-----------

The mercenaries running up the stairs and in the service elevator made it to their destinations; however they arrived to find the entrances iced over. In response, those who had Fire and Electricity Plasmids respectively opened up on the stuck door, lightning bolts coursing through the door and fire working to melt the ice.

Colonel Allaire ignored Father Abdi for a moment, merely keeping a wary eye on his combat knife. He did, however, have threats to deal with outside, knocking on the door...

The Fire and Electricity Plasmid users would find the door melting, all right. Keith used telekinesis to stack loads of ruined guns plucked off the carcasses, via the Force, of those whom he had killed or otherwise disarmed. And as the doors consisted of wood, they could use a little reinforcement.

Abdi could only watch as Keith slagged all the guns, knives too, into one goop of molten metal that he raised off the floor, again using telekinesis. The blob of molten metal then proceeded to shape itself into a backing screen layer, reinforcing the wooden door against the guards' attempt to breach it on the other side. Colonel Allaire then easily flash-cooled the metal, rendering it perhaps a bit brittle, but it could reinforce the door for at least a few seconds.

Now, Colonel Allaire weighed dual priorities simultaneously: The guards just outside of his little blockade, and sensing vertical movement with the Force. Fire was easier for him to deal with than electricity. Therefore, he selected the electricity-wielding guard on the other side of the door for spontaneous immolation. He accelerated the motion of molecules, especially the combustible ones like sugars and starches, within the poor guard's body quite rapidly...

He then made a point of choking off every point at which his senses detected any kind of vertical motion. The pulley on the service elevator melted, and the emergency ladders on both the service elevator and the disabled normal-use elevator became too hot to touch. Fire suddenly consumed the stairs. It was looking like guards wishing to get in would have to scale the outside of the building...

While he dealt with the outside threats, Colonel Allaire gave Father Abdi a hard glare, the bodies of at least ten guards sprawled out on the floor between them. His desert camo uniform was by now intermittently splattered with dried or drying blood, mostly on his sleeves but a little on his chest and legs as well, from whacking guards so hard with his naginata, or stabbing them in blood vessels susceptible to spurting out blood when breached. His eyes burned a bright blue, straight into Abdi's face, as if they were twin particle projectile cannon, accumulating charge in the instant before firing...

Colonel Allaire ignored Father Abdi for a moment, merely keeping a wary eye on his combat knife. He did, however, have threats to deal with outside, knocking on the door...

The Fire and Electricity Plasmid users would find the door melting, all right. Keith used telekinesis to stack loads of ruined guns plucked off the carcasses, via the Force, of those whom he had killed or otherwise disarmed. And as the doors consisted of wood, they could use a little reinforcement.

Abdi could only watch as Keith slagged all the guns, knives too, into one goop of molten metal that he raised off the floor, again using telekinesis. The blob of molten metal then proceeded to shape itself into a backing screen layer, reinforcing the wooden door against the guards' attempt to breach it on the other side. Colonel Allaire then easily flash-cooled the metal, rendering it perhaps a bit brittle, but it could reinforce the door for at least a few seconds.

Now, Colonel Allaire weighed dual priorities simultaneously: The guards just outside of his little blockade, and sensing vertical movement with the Force. Fire was easier for him to deal with than electricity. Therefore, he selected the electricity-wielding guard on the other side of the door for spontaneous immolation. He accelerated the motion of molecules, especially the combustible ones like sugars and starches, within the poor guard's body quite rapidly...

He then made a point of choking off every point at which his senses detected any kind of vertical motion. The pulley on the service elevator melted, and the emergency ladders on both the service elevator and the disabled normal-use elevator became too hot to touch. Fire suddenly consumed the stairs. It was looking like guards wishing to get in would have to scale the outside of the building...

While he dealt with the outside threats, Colonel Allaire gave Father Abdi a hard glare, the bodies of at least ten guards sprawled out on the floor between them. His desert camo uniform was by now intermittently splattered with dried or drying blood, mostly on his sleeves but a little on his chest and legs as well, from whacking guards so hard with his naginata, or stabbing them in blood vessels susceptible to spurting out blood when breached. His eyes burned a bright blue, straight into Abdi's face, as if they were twin particle projectile cannon, accumulating charge in the instant before firing...

The guards attempting to approach the penthouse from all of the aforementioned internal entrances were now sufficiently denied access. The men climbing the emergency ladder in the main shaft had one of two options. Jump or try to quickly scale down. Some chose to jump, landing on top of the now disabled elevator and breaking a bone or two. The Ice Plasmid users attempted to cool down the ladder and allow the others to get down safely, which still hurt.

The service elevator's safety mechanisms kicked in, and before long, they were pinned. The Emergency Ladders were red hot, and nobody wanted to mess with that.

As if one of their buddies combusting wasn't bad enough, the men on the stairs now contended with a raging inferno. The ice Plasmid user attempted to use his powers to keep the fire back, and find a safe way out--especially as the entrance had somehow been reinforced.

Father Abdi, meanwhile, glared back--it was all he could do. Abdi then declared, "Well, you haven't answered my question? What do you want now? Money? Control of the clan? A job? Whatever it is, you sure as hell made your point, Colonel. And I'm getting rather tired of your insistence."

Colonel Allaire, mostly satisfied that he had forced Abdi's Army to retreat, immolated a couple more flunkies with his Force abilities, just to keep the cowards running in fear. He did not want...complications. And now, this "Father Abdi" had the gall to actually demand a response from someone who had just slaughtered at least twenty or so of his guards, his best guards, right in front of his face.

Keith held the naginata, which definitely showed the signs of this battle, with both of his hands as he stared down Abdi. Without warning, he Force-Pulled Abdi straight to him, but over his head, taking a quick, hard, well-timed swing at Abdi's legs with the shaft of the thing as he flew overhead. The Colonel turned around to face Abdi as the latter crashed into the wall behind the former.

The hard glare continued, and as Keith spoke for the first time since Abdi had ordered the start of the battle, his voice dripped with contempt for the vermin. "I was going to offer you my services," he sneered. "However, that offer is officially off the table."

The hard glare continued, and as Keith spoke for the first time since Abdi had ordered the start of the battle, his voice dripped with contempt for the vermin. "I was going to offer you my services," he sneered. "However, that offer is officially off the table."

Abdi's own voice was filled with bile. He felt two things right now. Pain in his legs--a rather nasty pain, suggesting something got broken--and disgust at this Yankee's audacity. He replied in a curt tone, "I don't know how they run things in California, Yankee, but in my country we do not ask for favors after ruining personal property!" He then spat at Allaire, showing contempt in a way that crossed borders.

"I am not from California, and you will shut up now," Colonel Allaire replied, his tone of voice getting even colder. He set his spear up against the wall, unholstered his Makarov pistol, and shoved another clip of ammo from his backpack into it before holstering it again.

For spitting in the Colonel's face, the insolent swine received a hard kick in the nuts, followed by the Colonel's knee getting plunged straight into them, all 110 kilos of Allaire's bodyweight on the point Abdi probably least wanted it to be on, all in the blink of an eye. Colonel Keith Allaire then grabbed Abdi's right wrist, and snapped it backwards quite painfully and with practiced ease, the affected bones making a satisfying cracking sound.

"As I said, you will shut up. Especially if you value the use of your remaining limb."

Meanwhile, Keith found Chin's presence, through the Force, assaulting the warehouse. Oh Chin...I have Father Abdi.

"I am not from California, and you will shut up now," Colonel Allaire replied, his tone of voice getting even colder. He set his spear up against the wall, unholstered his Makarov pistol, and shoved another clip of ammo from his backpack into it before holstering it again.

For spitting in the Colonel's face, the insolent swine received a hard kick in the nuts, followed by the Colonel's knee getting plunged straight into them, all 110 kilos of Allaire's bodyweight on the point Abdi probably least wanted it to be on, all in the blink of an eye. Colonel Keith Allaire then grabbed Abdi's right wrist, and snapped it backwards quite painfully and with practiced ease, the affected bones making a satisfying cracking sound.

"As I said, you will shut up. Especially if you value the use of your remaining limb."

Meanwhile, Keith found Chin's presence, through the Force, assaulting the warehouse. Oh Chin...I have Father Abdi.

Chin, meanwhile, was lodged behind a stack of ammo crates. However, his opponent, the Head of Security for the complex, had the unfortunate circumstance of a misfire and her heavy machine gun jammed, despite lording over him on a railing. Like Keith, he had piled the bodies high, using gun ballet skills and the Force to make short work of the amateurs who thought a pricey genetic modification could let them compete with the best and their precious cache of arms and drugs too. There was one difference. His opponent still fought on.

As such, Chin decided to teach the recalcitrant smuggler a lesson. Sighting down the rail of his Colt Government pistol, he used the Force to get a bead on her head. Time seemed to slow around him, but in reality it wasn't any Force trick of speed--it was the rush of sheer adrenaline and the eternity of seconds playing out. Leading just a bit, he felt confident about the shot. Chin then pulled the trigger, and the Force carried it home.

He then got Keith's Force message, and smiled. He then promptly Force-messaged him back, saying, "And I've ensured his organization's going to have to start from zero hour; he's got nothing left to offer in this warehouse of his."

He then detected Abdi's presence, and mustered a message to him.

"You hear me? You have nothing, Abdi! Your castle made of sand has collapsed. Give up, and maybe we'll stop humiliating you."

He then reloaded his Colt Government pistol, as a squad of Civil Patrol ran in to sweep the room. He flashed his badge, and dropped his gun, saying, "It's alright. The room's clear."

--------------------------

Abdi felt the pain. But he also felt the humiliation. How the hell did this happen?

His expression then changed; Chin's admonition suddenly made sense at this hour, especially with the news that he was previously given. He then held his one good arm up, and weakly said, "I surrender!"

Colonel Keith Allaire, without saying a word, got up, relieving the intense pressure of about 240 pounds of bodyweight on Abdi's nuts...or whatever was left of them after getting so crushed, anyway. That was the only indication that Abdi had that the Colonel had accepted his surrender.

As the naginata whack had broken Abdi's legs, and as he had also been disarmed, the Colonel was free to pick over the corpses of his dead bodyguards for something with which to bind Abdi. A minor oversight in packing, which should not have occurred, but that could be taken care of soon enough. After finding a roll of duct tape, the Colonel returned, brusquely kicking Abdi's near-inert body over, and wrapping his arms behind his back. The duct tape effectively served as a handcuff-in-a-pinch, and just to be safe, Keith bound Abdi's legs as well.

Now, of course, the Colonel had another question for Chin. Where may I deposit him?, he inquired via telepathy.

Now, of course, the Colonel had another question for Chin. Where may I deposit him?, he inquired via telepathy.

As Chin was leading the Civil Patrol men around and taking down the occasional thug who still tried to run off with something, Chin heard the question. He then stroked his chin, and turned to the Squad Leader of the Civil Patrol unit he was working with.

"Can you tell me where I can deposit a prisoner?"

The Squad Leader replied, "Well, there is the holding cell over at Headquarters. We can hold him there until later transfer to a more permanent facility in Mogadishu for detention and trial."

He then shook his head, examining the guns and khat Chin hadn't blown up. "It looks like Abdi will go away for a long time....."

Chin then Forcemessaged Allaire back.

"They say you can take him back to Civil Patrol headquarters downtown; there, they will hold him until transfer to Mogadishu to stand trial. I can pick him up."

-----------

Abdi, meanwhile, was glad to have this crazy Yankee off of him.....he still hurt all over though, and he had a good feeling that he was going to need some surgery. Lots of it.

All he could let out though was a moan of pain....

Colonel Allaire then scooped Abdi up and draped him over his right shoulder, like a firefighter moving a limp body out of a burning building. Keith then used his lightsaber to cut one of the doors open, so that he could get out of the penthouse, and extinguished the fires on the stairs with his cryokinesis. The whole time, he said not a word, seemingly content to listen to Abdi's groans of pain.

He kept a wary Force-eye out for Abdi's flunkies, as a great number of them had run in cowardice and now presumably roamed the streets. Small flames fanned out in front of him, to flash-sanitize the mounds of spent needles and sludge, and suddenly cooled right before he took the steps ahead, to get to the cleaner town center, where the police HQ lie. All the while, he had to suffer Abdi's groans.

Upon arriving at the police HQ, he merely said two words to the desk sergeant: "Father Abdi." He then piledrived his prisoner into the floor before said desk, just to get rid of him in a way that guaranteed cooperation.

The sergeant at the desk sighed; Chen had done the same thing when he dropped off his prisoner. He then got up, and mumbled, "You guys can't keep doing this.....I'm gonna get sued....."

He then put on a couple of thick gloves and picked up Abdi, who winced a little. The sergeant then handed Allaire a clipboard and a pen with some forms and said, "Fill this out please." He then took Abdi to the medical wing, and said to the Doctor, "We got a live one here.....looks badly injured."

The Doctor on staff took one look at Father Abdi, and shook his head. "That's like saying Michelangelo can paint ceilings. This guy is in serious condition." He then laid him in one of the beds, and had medical attention immediately administered, as he then turned to the sergeant and finished with, "Well, I will say this. Tell whoever brought this man in that he has great martial arts skills, but poor humanitarian skills."

The sergeant then walked back out to the main waiting area, just as Chin stepped into the room from another entrance. He had some papers he was filling out in his hand, which he then handed to another officer. He smiled, toothpick in his mouth, and said to Allaire with a serene smile, "So, I understand you took down a major crime lord. Or do you like to fill out forms?"

"You think I have poor humanitarian skills?" Colonel Allaire growled. "Tell that to the person who signed a death warrant on me. I will give you a hint. You are coddling him right now. He is fortunate that I do not have Medic training." The Colonel flashed a grin at the last comment.

"Anyway, forms that you shove in my face have a nasty habit of starting fires. So I will be blunt. Yesterday I find two jokers and a Chinese guy arguing in the cafe over there." He pointed across the street. "I disable the firearms of the jokers, who turned out to be smugglers. Chinese guy turns out to be one of these 'Peoples' Acolytes.' I leave, let the Chinese guy deal with it, and head south, not wanting to be hassled over the thing. Two armed thugs on motorcycles show up and start shooting at me, I kill one and interrogate the other. Interrogation leads me to Abdi's little operation. The result is groaning to your doctors right now."

The Colonel then shut his mouth, casting a hardened glare at the desk sergeant. Do not dare dump those forms on me...

"You think I have poor humanitarian skills?" Colonel Allaire growled. "Tell that to the person who signed a death warrant on me. I will give you a hint. You are coddling him right now. He is fortunate that I do not have Medic training." The Colonel flashed a grin at the last comment.

"Anyway, forms that you shove in my face have a nasty habit of starting fires. So I will be blunt. Yesterday I find two jokers and a Chinese guy arguing in the cafe over there." He pointed across the street. "I disable the firearms of the jokers, who turned out to be smugglers. Chinese guy turns out to be one of these 'Peoples' Acolytes.' I leave, let the Chinese guy deal with it, and head south, not wanting to be hassled over the thing. Two armed thugs on motorcycles show up and start shooting at me, I kill one and interrogate the other. Interrogation leads me to Abdi's little operation. The result is groaning to your doctors right now."

The Colonel then shut his mouth, casting a hardened glare at the desk sergeant. Do not dare dump those forms on me...

The desk sergeant just sighed. Great. A self-righteous white guy, like the British and the Italians that messed up Somalia in the first placed. He just shrugged and walked out, taking the forms with him, barely containing his disgust at the man's pigheadedness, beginning to fill in the incident forms for him, since he wouldn't do it himself.

Chin then shook his head and snickered just a little, so Keith couldn't hear it. He could only say, "You can't blame CP. They like procedure; you should have seen the process they called 'debriefing' for me. A rather sloppy mess that was....." Chin emphasized the sarcastic nature of the line with finger quotes--sometimes, he wished the law would be a little faster.

Colonel Allaire just nodded silently to Chin, agreeing with the Acolyte's general sentiment on Bureaucratic Idiocy. However, he also sensed the disgust emanating from the desk sergeant regarding his refusal to fill out the forms, and decided to rectify it. Nevermind that the Woodian military somehow managed to function properly without these said forms.

The desk sergeant's clipboard flew straight out of his hands, his pen as well. Colonel Allaire scanned over the form, only to find that it was ten pages, legal size, long, double-sided to boot, with disclaimers and legal garbage printed on the back, just so the form could be triplicate carbon copy. Oh great. Not like I have anything better to do at the moment. To make it even worse, tiny little checkboxes dotted the Form from Hell; they seemed to be so tiny that merely tapping the ball point on the checkboxes would be sufficient to fully bubble them in...and the font size matched.

The Colonel used Force Speed and photographic memory to read the legal $hite, wondering how in the hell an area like this could have so much useless bureaucracy. Oh well, the desk sergeant had to make his livelihood somehow. He used Force Speed to help him finish the cursed thing in record time, and in such a manner as to get him 'Just Legally Off The Hook,' and surprisingly calmly slid the thing back over to the desk sergeant across his desk.

"Why does a damned Incident Report have to be more complicated than Weight and Balance Calculations for DropShips?" the Colonel asked, some irritation in his voice, but milder than the desk sergeant would expect. "Apparently your little Revolution has yet to spread to paperwork."

"Why does a damned Incident Report have to be more complicated than Weight and Balance Calculations for DropShips?" the Colonel asked, some irritation in his voice, but milder than the desk sergeant would expect. "Apparently your little Revolution has yet to spread to paperwork."

The Sergeant sighed and simply took the papers from him when he was finished. He then, upon hearing Keith's comment, snapped. "Damn....does every white guy that comes here have to tell us what to do?" the Sergeant thought. This was ridiculous.

Leaping up, he slammed his hands on the desk and declared in a very, very angry voice, "If the computer we normally would have directed you to wasn't broken, I wouldn't have had to do this! But, as it is, I have to do everything manually, with stupid forms, stupid pens, and fucking paper because GODDAMN MOGADISHU DECIDED TO DICK AROUND! SO SIT DOWN, AND MIND YOUR OWN DAMN BUSINESS! THIS ISN'T FUCKING MAGNATRON BURGER!"

He then turned, and stamped them with an ugly red Stamp, then placed them in the appropriate pile to be filed when he wasn't dealing with this crap.

Keith sighed, figuring the damned bureaucrat should go down to Mogadishu and lead the damned Revolution Against Paperwork himself. He had better things to do. Like rock climbing and stuff.

However, the Colonel realized he had left his spear at the busted-up penthouse. Diverting his thoughts from such touristy activities as aforementioned rock climbing, he backtracked through the dirty part of town, using his pyrokinesis to flash-sanitize his path, and reloading his Dragunov from its activities early in the morning as casually as he would clean his fingernails. But the penthouse was no doubt swarming with police by now...

And it was.

CP's Crime Scene unit was investigating the area. They had the penthouse marked off with yellow tape and forcefields, using equipment to get samples, check evidence, and do what scientists do.

Outside, police were everywhere, eager to keep rubberneckers and journalists out. To Keith, it was no exception, and one of the Policemen said, "This is a closed crime scene. Please leave."

"Oh, really?" Colonel Allaire's eyebrows raised at the police officer's request. "I was the one who defeated Father Abdi here. Have you found his private armory yet?"

"Oh, really?" Colonel Allaire's eyebrows raised at the police officer's request. "I was the one who defeated Father Abdi here. Have you found his private armory yet?"

The policeman then said, "Hold on." Picking up a radio, he contacted the head of the investigation upstairs.

"Yes. This is Sgt. Kamar. I have here a man who claims to have brought Abdi to the station. He also asks about a private armory?"

The reply came forth, and it was clear the head of investigations knew about Allaire, his presence noted in the station when he first entered. They had also found the private armory, welded shut.

The head ordered him to be let through. With that, the cop then waved him by and said, "You may go. But do not interfere."

"Aff." The Colonel nodded as he went inside to 'assist' the investigation. Namely by giving the police access to more evidence. For a slight trade, of course. Not that they even had to know about said trade. Oh, yes.

As Colonel Allaire came to the armory that he had welded shut to deprive Abdi's Army of more weapons with which to attack him and otherwise randomly kill, he asked the nearest officer, "You would very much like to seize the evidence on the other side, quiaff?"

The CSI men trying to open the door dropped what they were doing, and looked at each other. This guy seemed alright, he didn't want to interfere too much. But his mannerisms were odd. The hell did Quiaff mean?

One of them stood up and said, "Yes, we are. We used scans and revealed a large cache of guns here. All big ticket items. However, our attempts to open the door short of using explosives have proved problematic."

Colonel Allaire grinned as he ignited his red lightsaber and stuck it into the sealed, half-melted-and-reformed vault. "I figure I may as well cut it open for you. Surprised you did not just drag an Acolyte down here to do it, to be honest." Slowly, the lightsaber chewed a hole in the vault big enough for a man to walk through, permitting police officers to walk into the vault.

Now, there was the matter of reclaiming his spear. He reached out with the Force to find out whether the police had moved it, which should not be too difficult because it was still stained with the blood of those it had impaled...

Colonel Allaire grinned as he ignited his red lightsaber and stuck it into the sealed, half-melted-and-reformed vault. "I figure I may as well cut it open for you. Surprised you did not just drag an Acolyte down here to do it, to be honest." Slowly, the lightsaber chewed a hole in the vault big enough for a man to walk through, permitting police officers to walk into the vault.

Now, there was the matter of reclaiming his spear. He reached out with the Force to find out whether the police had moved it, which should not be too difficult because it was still stained with the blood of those it had impaled...

The Force search would turn up a few CSI men eagerly combing it over like they did with the dead bodies lying around the room. If Keith had the sensitivity, he would no doubt notice that they were also applying everything from bioscans to old-fashioned luminol and UV-light tests on it, to get what they wanted out of their newly-gained evidence.

One of them looked at it and said, shaking his head, "Damn....you think this was the murder weapon?"

One of the other experts said, "Well, it would be consistent with the perforation damage on some of the corpses. This looks like the only thing here that would cause the kind of damage it did, though the guy that used it had to be a psyker. Otherwise, the punctures would be much less serious."

The man put on a couple of spectacles, zooming in and immediately scanning the metal. "Hmm....relatively well-made, for such secondhand materials. Can't call it crude, since whoever made it knew what they were doing."

A few officers then entered the newly opened vault. It seemed their guest had used a lightsaber to open it for them.

"I'd have him cited for tampering, but he did help us."

"Yeah. Duly noted. Can't deny he helped us out, that door was a son of a bitch.....besides, he's a Jedi. One of the good guys."

The CSI then went back to work.

After opening the vault for the investigators, Colonel Allaire 'wandered' over to where detectives were looking over his spear. "That thing has my fingerprints all over it," he admitted. "Abdi sent his little mercenary army after me, ordered my termination, and whatnot. There is a nice little police report at Headquarters about it. Anyway, it is mine. You plan on returning it, or must I procure ANOTHER used car axle to make another one? He still has thugs out there that want me dead."

Hopefully, a nice, subtle Jedi Mind Trick would help the police along in releasing the thing back to him...

After opening the vault for the investigators, Colonel Allaire 'wandered' over to where detectives were looking over his spear. "That thing has my fingerprints all over it," he admitted. "Abdi sent his little mercenary army after me, ordered my termination, and whatnot. There is a nice little police report at Headquarters about it. Anyway, it is mine. You plan on returning it, or must I procure ANOTHER used car axle to make another one? He still has thugs out there that want me dead."

Hopefully, a nice, subtle Jedi Mind Trick would help the police along in releasing the thing back to him...

The mind trick worked; the head of the CSI squad then turned to the other members of the team and nodded to them, asking them, "Think we can let this guy have his blade back? He did take out the bad guys..."

They nodded back, only going, "Yeah, sure."

The head of the squad replied, "I'm sure we'll let you have it back....."

Then, the Head of Investigations noticed the scene, making his rounds around the room. His face darkened; he immediately sauntered up to Colonel Allaire with an arrogant swagger and then said, "I don't know who you think you are, Colonel. You are the Colonel, yes!? Well, you may have beaten the bad guys, and we commend you for that, but that spear still needs to be taken as evidence!"

"And I need it to defend myself against those in Abdi's Army who are out looking for revenge upon my head," the Colonel replied calmly, waving his hand. Apparently this one was too far out of range for his earlier Mind Trickery to work. "It would be a shame if I turned up dead somewhere at the hands of one of the thugs who got away." The Head Investigator should have considered himself lucky that Colonel Allaire did not quite feel like wiping that arrogant smirk off his face.

"And I need it to defend myself against those in Abdi's Army who are out looking for revenge upon my head," the Colonel replied calmly, waving his hand. Apparently this one was too far out of range for his earlier Mind Trickery to work. "It would be a shame if I turned up dead somewhere at the hands of one of the thugs who got away." The Head Investigator should have considered himself lucky that Colonel Allaire did not quite feel like wiping that arrogant smirk off his face.

"And I need it to defend myself against those in Abdi's Army who are out looking for revenge upon my head," the Colonel replied calmly, waving his hand. Apparently this one was too far out of range for his earlier Mind Trickery to work. "It would be a shame if I turned up dead somewhere at the hands of one of the thugs who got away." The Head Investigator should have considered himself lucky that Colonel Allaire did not quite feel like wiping that arrogant smirk off his face.

The Head Investigator nodded, saying, "All well and good, but the fact is it is a weapon used in a fight...." He then suddenly felt a lot more charitable than usual, and looked around. He then said, "On the other hand, since you did solve the problem for us....we may let you keep the weapon. But first, let us finish our analyses."

"Aff. I shall stay here for the time being to remind you of that, then." The Colonel grinned.

"Aff. I shall stay here for the time being to remind you of that, then." The Colonel grinned.

The Head of Investigations turned to the CSI men working on the naginata, and then told them, "Make it quick. The man wants his weapon back." He did so with a tone that suggested charity, but also some irritation at the investigation being interrupted.

The men turned to one another and nodded. They had been persuaded by Keith's mind trick, and thus went to work to finish their analysis of the weapons. The last scans were performed, the photos were taken and run through the ISB Weapons Database, fingerprints were lifted using both powder and a scanner, statistical and physics data taken, and so on.

Eventually, some ten minutes later, one of the men then pulled out what looked like a giant wetnap. He then ran it over the blade and the body of the weapon, removing the gunk and restoring to a somewhat good sheen. He then handed the weapon to the Colonel, saying, "Here you go."

"Ah, thank you." The Colonel bowed, having pretty much left the investigators alone to do their work. While he waited, he certainly did not expect the investigators present to actually clean his weapon.

As he took the naginata he twirled it leisurely in the open air as he left, not in a manner that threatened anyone, of course, but he seemed to handle something that still retained the mass of the car axle from whence it came as if it was nothing more than an aluminum baton. He walked out, almost too casually, to the north, to reclaim his motorcycle. From there, he intended to go rock climbing. However, he knew not what Abdi's scattered thugs would do...

"Ah, thank you." The Colonel bowed, having pretty much left the investigators alone to do their work. While he waited, he certainly did not expect the investigators present to actually clean his weapon.

As he took the naginata he twirled it leisurely in the open air as he left, not in a manner that threatened anyone, of course, but he seemed to handle something that still retained the mass of the car axle from whence it came as if it was nothing more than an aluminum baton. He walked out, almost too casually, to the north, to reclaim his motorcycle. From there, he intended to go rock climbing. However, he knew not what Abdi's scattered thugs would do...


The officers on the street looked at Keith with some astonishment as he twirled the weapon like it was a stick. One of the CSI men looking out of the window swore, "Son, when I handled that thing, I could barely balance it with one hand....the hell is this guy?"

Sure enough, word spread to the thugs that their boss was now a captive of the state, thanks to the White Guy. At this point, the clan could either break up, or become united by vengance. With those options, some of the mercenaries decided to fly home, and some of the gang members decided to cease fighting, the future cloudy with doubt. Other gang members and mercenaries, rendered loyal due to Abdi's clientelism, decided to remain loyal to their boss. And yet still more decided to break into their own gangs, eager to set up shop for themselves, ambition too much to stay with this bunch.

With that, the Abdi Loyalists began planning an attack on the ISB-CP Headquarters, to try and break their boss out. The Unorganized Mobs, meanwhile, prepared to make their own turf. And, admist this crazed cocktail of doom, nobody ever bothered to rescind the bounty on either Keith or Chin, and with multiple factions now offering the money, the situation would get interesting. Thus, the two would still be targets for both factions.

Though for now, Keith was safe--the scattered remnants were busy reorganizing themselves. He would find his bike relatively untouched, even.

Sure enough, Colonel Allaire found his motorcycle, even though he had to laugh at some of the comments from the police swarming Abdi's mansion. He wasted no time inspecting it for sabotage, before he sped off along the northern beaches, looking for a good cliff to scale.

He found one, a couple miles north of the town, about a hundred meters tall. A shame this area was not more mountainous. Nevertheless, he parked his motorcycle and started climbing, quite rapidly in fact, in spite of the heavy pack of ammunition and whatnot on his back. While he could have cheated and used the Force as on-off glue, he decided not to, as he actually wanted exercise out of this.

Damn, I really need to find some better mountains...

Sure enough, Colonel Allaire found his motorcycle, even though he had to laugh at some of the comments from the police swarming Abdi's mansion. He wasted no time inspecting it for sabotage, before he sped off along the northern beaches, looking for a good cliff to scale.

He found one, a couple miles north of the town, about a hundred meters tall. A shame this area was not more mountainous. Nevertheless, he parked his motorcycle and started climbing, quite rapidly in fact, in spite of the heavy pack of ammunition and whatnot on his back. While he could have cheated and used the Force as on-off glue, he decided not to, as he actually wanted exercise out of this.

Damn, I really need to find some better mountains...

The mountain itself wouldn't be too challenging. It was relatively bush league as rock climbing challenges went, and considering Colonel Allaire was a trained military man, he would find it an exercise but somewhat "blah" when it came to a challenge.

The real challenge came from the gangsters on both the Loyalist and Splinter camps. Still reorganizing, they began asking around where the White Guy went, eager to collect Keith's head for themselves. For now though, Keith would be safe.

Chin, however, would not be. Though still in the police station handling his side of things, he sensed more people coming....

"Fuck. Out of cliff." Keith sighed as he climbed over the top of the cliff and turned around for a view of the coastline from a hundred meters up. Surely Somalia had more challenging cliffs than this. Indeed, despite carrying armaments and ammunition (including his spear) weighing at least two-thirds of his own bodyweight on his back, his breathing was just barely heavier than normal, and it took only a mere second for it to return to perfectly normal upon ascending the thing. Worthwhile exercise for my body, perhaps, but definitely not worth the designation of "tourist attraction", the Colonel thought to himself. Were it not for my pack, I would have gotten about the same amount of exercise as walking. One of the downsides to physical training as intense as he subjected himself to in the Woodian military: Eventually it resulted in everything becoming too easy.

He felt an ever-so-slight tingle in the Force, and realized that he had overlooked the minor chore of "persuading" Abdi to rescind the bounty on his head, and Chin's head too, for that matter. Oh well, a minor oversight to be corrected. Colonel Allaire sighed as he climbed back down, nearly at walking speed, mounted his motorcycle, and sped back south...

"Fuck. Out of cliff." Keith sighed as he climbed over the top of the cliff and turned around for a view of the coastline from a hundred meters up. Surely Somalia had more challenging cliffs than this. Indeed, despite carrying armaments and ammunition (including his spear) weighing at least two-thirds of his own bodyweight on his back, his breathing was just barely heavier than normal, and it took only a mere second for it to return to perfectly normal upon ascending the thing. Worthwhile exercise for my body, perhaps, but definitely not worth the designation of "tourist attraction", the Colonel thought to himself. Were it not for my pack, I would have gotten about the same amount of exercise as walking. One of the downsides to physical training as intense as he subjected himself to in the Woodian military: Eventually it resulted in everything becoming too easy.

He felt an ever-so-slight tingle in the Force, and realized that he had overlooked the minor chore of "persuading" Abdi to rescind the bounty on his head, and Chin's head too, for that matter. Oh well, a minor oversight to be corrected. Colonel Allaire sighed as he climbed back down, nearly at walking speed, mounted his motorcycle, and sped back south...

As he did so, he would find still no resistance as of yet along the roads, though he was met with a slight bit of road traffic, comprised of Deuce and a Halves, Triumph Bonnevilles, bicyclists and even the odd Ford as he traveled back to town.

Chin, however, would not be so lucky to be unmolested. The two men, it seemed, had not yet discovered the mole in the Civil Patrol unit. As he was a scoundrel by nature--why else would a guy become a mole?--he decided to use Chin's presence admist the local CP to take a shot at the bounty.

Going into the armory, he quietly requisitioned himself a Tartakovsky Lasgun, loading it with a fresh clip and then shouldering it to make it look like he was going for his daily practice--something ISB-CP was good at, if not paperwork. He then walked about, looking for Chin....

---------------

At this moment, Chin was in the station working on helping some people lift the boxes of Kalashnikovs and Gauss Rifles into Storage Area C, now Provisional Evidence Storage Area C. It was backbreaking work, but the locals appreciated the help of a guy like Chin, especially with his use of Force Lift.

Then, Chin felt a presence. Somebody unfamiliar. He turned and saw the CP Mole looking at him. Chin didn't like the look of that rifle, and for that matter, he sensed that man was here for only one purpose, something that involved a gun. Excusing himself, he then walked up to the Mole, and then gave the Jedi Mind Trick to the Mole, saying, "Whatever you do, you will not do it in here. You will leave this room. It is too dangerous here, and you will leave."

The man then nodded, and left the room, Chin following him to observe this guy. He then witnessed the man turn, and pause, and attempt to figure out what was going on. Chin sensed confusion from the man, and realized he was here to collect the bounty on his head. Heh. He was going to make it harder than the man thought.

So this is what rush hour in Somalia is like, the Colonel thought to himself as he pulled up to the police station where he had earlier piledrived Abdi. No doubt the resident bureaucrats would be more than happy to see him again. Colonel Allaire made sure to wipe the smirk off his face before entering the building, as no doubt Father Abdi would be more than happy to see him again as well...not.

"Hello," he greeted the receptionist politely. "Is it possible for me to visit Father Abdi?"

So this is what rush hour in Somalia is like, the Colonel thought to himself as he pulled up to the police station where he had earlier piledrived Abdi. No doubt the resident bureaucrats would be more than happy to see him again. Colonel Allaire made sure to wipe the smirk off his face before entering the building, as no doubt Father Abdi would be more than happy to see him again as well...not.

"Hello," he greeted the receptionist politely. "Is it possible for me to visit Father Abdi?"

The desk sergeant from before was fortunately not there to glare at Allaire again. In his place was a more agreeable person, who said, "Hmm.....you mean Abdi Abdikamar Maxamed? Hold on, let me see."

The man then picked up his desk phone, and called the Chief of the Precinct. He then nodded, and said, "Yes, I understand." Hanging up, Keith was greeted with, "You may go in and see him. But the Chief says you only get five minutes. Then, you have to go."

"Aff." The Colonel nodded politely to the receptionist as he went in to see Father Abdi. This would be fun, but he made sure to keep a completely neutral look on his face as he entered the room. Unfortunately, the Colonel still wore his uniform, the blood of Abdi's minions still splattered all over it, which would no doubt make things a bit more interesting.

"Greetings, Father Abdi Abdikamar Maxamed. It is an honor to see you again." Of course, the Colonel did not really mean that last part, but his tone of voice was not exactly indicative of his thoughts. "Unfortunately, it appears that a minor oversight has occurred...

"Aff." The Colonel nodded politely to the receptionist as he went in to see Father Abdi. This would be fun, but he made sure to keep a completely neutral look on his face as he entered the room. Unfortunately, the Colonel still wore his uniform, the blood of Abdi's minions still splattered all over it, which would no doubt make things a bit more interesting.

"Greetings, Father Abdi Abdikamar Maxamed. It is an honor to see you again." Of course, the Colonel did not really mean that last part, but his tone of voice was not exactly indicative of his thoughts. "Unfortunately, it appears that a minor oversight has occurred...

Abdi simply let out a harumph, turning away from Allaire using his head; he wanted to fold his arms in disgust, but the full body cast and nanoinjections he was now in prevented him from doing that. He then bitterly stated, "You've broken my body. You've destroyed my facilities. Well, you win, Colonel Allaire."

He then turned to Keith and said, angrily, "And now you've come here to gloat. Well do so! As far as I am concerned, you've pretty much done it all already!"

------------------------------

Somewhere else in Bargal--

The time was ready, and the two factions now had enough men and money for their goals. In two different sides of the city, men were cocking guns, fueling trucks, chewing khat for that extra battle helper, and even loading RPGs for the journey ahead. No thermobarics this time. Their prey was smarter than that. Mercenaries could be seen injecting themselves with blue syringes, restoring vital Eve for the battle ahead to fuel their Plasmids, checking their vests, and ensuring their gear was ready.

It was time to head out. The Abdi Loyalists, headed by one of the surviving lieutenants, cried out, "Alright, brothers! Today, we collect the bounty on the heads of the men who placed our Father in jail! We save Father Abdi from his torment! GO!"

The Splinters, however, were less inspired. Led by a South African man with stubble, and a large cigar sticking out of his mouth, he simply said, "Here's our chance, boys! Let's get the cash!"

With that, two rival columns of trucks drove quickly to the station....

The Colonel quickly got down to business. "The oversight is this: You forgot to rescind the bounty on my head, and the bounty on Chin's." As he sensed through the Force a large number of Abdi loyalists advancing on the police station, he added coldly, "Do it now. Unless you want to watch more bloodshed, as I sense it is imminent."

The Colonel quickly got down to business. "The oversight is this: You forgot to rescind the bounty on my head, and the bounty on Chin's." As he sensed through the Force a large number of Abdi loyalists advancing on the police station, he added coldly, "Do it now. Unless you want to watch more bloodshed, as I sense it is imminent."

Abdi would normally murmur about "Parlor Tricks," but this man's abilities began to make him a slight believer. He could only laugh bitterly, and reply, "Lemme guess. Your Force powers tell you that?"

-------------------------

The trucks pulled up to the station, and began unloading their men, the Abdi Loyalists going from the front and the Splinters going from the back loading gate. Looking outside the window, the receptionist ducked under the desk, calling on his communicator, "This is Sgt.--"

A blast interrupted the call, as the front doors became dented from an explosion. Designed to resist insurrections, Civil Patrol buildings were generally built with security measures such as reinforced doors and walls. The receptionist looked up, and quickly ducked back down again. Continuing the call, he said, "Sgt. Jamal. We are under attack!"

That immediately raised the alarms; before long, all of the CP agents in the city and the building were soon called to arms, guns ready to challenge the assholes who would try and raid a government installation. Before long, one of the CP men ran into the room Keith was at and said, "Sir, it is not safe. We are under attack."

---------------------------

As Chin was going back to work, he heard explosions coming in from the back and the sounds of gunfire. Unholstering his dual Colt Government pistols, he sidled along a wall and peered out for a better look into the hall.

He could see ISB-CP men throwing down tables and opening fire on an incoming enemy. He could also sense that whoever was doing this attack was eager to get at either Father Abdi, or worse--Keith and himself. Not cool. He sidled along another wall, eventually meeting up with the guards at the barricade.

The guards then looked at Chin, saying, "We're under attack. It'-"

"I know," Chin replied, edging out to view what was in front. He saw two wounded militia, and more coming on the way...ducking back in, he loaded fresh clips, and decided to teach these guys a lesson.

"Shut up. Had you gotten to business, it would not now be too late." Colonel Keith Allaire unsheathed his naginata from its backpack mount, even before the CP bureaucrat barged in. "Congratulations, your insolence will end up costing the lives of more of your cronies." Keith abruptly turned around and left the room, to face the threat and assist in repelling the attack.

Unfortunately for the Plasmid users, the Colonel recognized by his earlier experience that they represented the greatest threat to the facility. Moreover, they were readily identifiable by Force senses, due to their faint psyker-like signature. As Colonel Allaire quicklymade his way to the emerging battlefield, he wasted no time in selecting a couple such Plasmid users and speeding up their molecules, his spear in hand to deflect bullets as necessary...

Unfortunately for the Plasmid users, the Colonel recognized by his earlier experience that they represented the greatest threat to the facility. Moreover, they were readily identifiable by Force senses, due to their faint psyker-like signature. As Colonel Allaire quicklymade his way to the emerging battlefield, he wasted no time in selecting a couple such Plasmid users and speeding up their molecules, his spear in hand to deflect bullets as necessary...

The Plasmid users lit up on fire, and the CP agents wasted no time in taking to the roof and sniping back at the incoming militias, taking down a few of them and attempting to disorient them with tear gas. However, the more determined of the mob simply continued opening fire on the reinforced door with the rockets, blowing chunks out of the door and the sides surrounding said door. One of the rockets missed and hit one of the windows, sending the bars and window around it flying. The CP agents inside were hit but not too seriously, as they used the new firing port to shoot back at the mob.

---------------

Chin, meanwhile, ducked out into the hallway, and began opening fire upon the incoming militia, throwing up a Force Wall every so often to block the shots from the charging infantry. He then sensed more coming from the opposite direction, and then ran into the other hallway he came from. Greeted with a spray of fire, he ducked, rolled, and lept into a storage closet. Chin wasted no time in then using his control of time to slow things down to a more manageable pace, before dashing out into the hallway and making short work of the goons. He then returned time to normal again, letting the agents drop dead. He then picked up a Kalashnikov, loaded a fresh magazine, and then moved to try and prevent the enemy from keeping their foothold in the loading dock.

Though the RPGs were not thermobaric, their propulsion systems were still vulnerable to freezing...at least when there was a thermokinetic Jedi in the area. Though the first few RPGs hit the building, the Colonel decided to put an end to that as he took up a sniping position at one of the blown-out windows. Subsequent RPGs mysteriously had ice form on their nozzles...then the propulsion went out shortly after firing, certainly before they reached their targets.

However, Keith also prepped a Force Wall with a firing hole in it, and reached for his Dragunov. Figuring it might be a good idea to use the fleeting seconds with no active RPGs to worry about to snipe the heads off the greatest threats, he fired, almost too quickly for a sniper, at the heads of those who either possessed Plasmids or the biggest, deadliest weapons. Moreover, Force Immolation was still on the table whenever there was a full second to concentrate; the Colonel selected more Plasmid-wielders for spontaneous combustion as he wished to keep the enemy panicked as much as possible.

Though the RPGs were not thermobaric, their propulsion systems were still vulnerable to freezing...at least when there was a thermokinetic Jedi in the area. Though the first few RPGs hit the building, the Colonel decided to put an end to that as he took up a sniping position at one of the blown-out windows. Subsequent RPGs mysteriously had ice form on their nozzles...then the propulsion went out shortly after firing, certainly before they reached their targets.

However, Keith also prepped a Force Wall with a firing hole in it, and reached for his Dragunov. Figuring it might be a good idea to use the fleeting seconds with no active RPGs to worry about to snipe the heads off the greatest threats, he fired, almost too quickly for a sniper, at the heads of those who either possessed Plasmids or the biggest, deadliest weapons. Moreover, Force Immolation was still on the table whenever there was a full second to concentrate; the Colonel selected more Plasmid-wielders for spontaneous combustion as he wished to keep the enemy panicked as much as possible.

The RPGs rendered useless, the CP agents took the chance to rain further fire upon the enemy, sniping out the RPG men and taking advantage of their plight. They then proceeded to snipe out more higher level infantrymen, aiming for mercenaries or the biggest of the pack--if Keith didn't get them first. The toll of the attacks was noticeable, as the door had not yet been breached and the bandit numbers were thinning out.

Indeed, the CPs had a few seconds to kill the rebels without having to worry about Colonel Allaire stealing their kills, as the latter needed to reload his sniper rifle. Ten rounds, ten kills. The Colonel retreated slightly to grab another ten rounds from his backpack.

However, he wasted no time in the reloading, either. Returning to his window, he took aim at more of the mercenaries, prioritizing whatever Plasmid wielders were left, and fired at their heads. Of course, to keep the enemy panic going, he kept the semi-random Immolations going as well...

How long until the cowards break?

Indeed, the CPs had a few seconds to kill the rebels without having to worry about Colonel Allaire stealing their kills, as the latter needed to reload his sniper rifle. Ten rounds, ten kills. The Colonel retreated slightly to grab another ten rounds from his backpack.

However, he wasted no time in the reloading, either. Returning to his window, he took aim at more of the mercenaries, prioritizing whatever Plasmid wielders were left, and fired at their heads. Of course, to keep the enemy panic going, he kept the semi-random Immolations going as well...

How long until the cowards break?

The bandits eventually decided to retreat and regroup inside nearby buildings. Running into local storefronts, they immediately kicked down tables, chairs, desks, stalls, and other implements to make into crude barricades, before reloading their weapons and awaiting the inevitable CP reply.

Which before long came in the form of several trucks....

--------------

Whilst Allaire was playing sniper, Chin was playing Hard Boiled Cop. Wasting no time in helping to secure the docks, he had so far eliminated several men and ralled a small force of CP around himself, having them guard strategic positions made by throwing up tables and chairs whilst Chin moved on ahead.

Then, Chin noticed a pack of mercs moving into the complex, leading a squad of mercenaries. One of them was a Plasmid user, and Chin decided to take these guys out. Using Force Jump, he lept into the middle of the pack, shooting the Plasmid user and then delivering strikes to the face and neck using his hands and the butt of his gun once he landed in the middle of the pack along with a kick to the groin for the last militiaman, taking out the squad in an instant.

Then, more men came from both directions. Having spent so much time taking out the thugs with his bare hands, he was now considerably very vulnerable to the enemy. Chin wasted no time in pulling back to the corridor where he was, and waited for the enemy to come. And come they did, flooding the hallway with men eager to collect the bounty.

Chin steadied himself. Aiming the Kalashnikov, he then charged forward, throwing up Force Wall with one hand to block the incoming shots and firing the gun with the other, spraying the enemy with gunshots and feral rage. They were forced to backpedal some to avoid being slammed into one another, but by then their ranks had been hurt by this crazed man with powers....when he ran out of AK ammo, he simply flung it at high speed using the Force, aiming at a mercenary's head.

When he got close to the enemy, he lept into the air, quickly drawing his dual Colt Government pistols and opening fire below on the foe, taking out several men before slamming into a mercenary to break his fall. Chin then got up, ducked into a corner, reloaded his pistols, and said, "I suggest you surrender!"

The militia in the room promptly did so.

They break. To come back again. I cannot let that happen, can I?

Colonel Allaire considered his options, even whilst continuing to snipe at those fleeing. Soon the bastards would be out of his field of fire. He could cut their retreat off with mass pyrokinesis, but he was loathe to do so in a populated area such as this. The chance of massive collateral damage was too high.

A smile crossed his face, however, as he tracked the retreating bandits through the Force. He had another idea, one that would test the outer limits of his abilities, but an idea that would trap them long enough for him to deal with the bastards nonetheless. Solidifying atmospheric gases into a wall to hem the enemy in...this was straight up Master Whitfield's line of tricks, as it required some extreme cryokinesis ability.

Nevertheless, with the enemy gone, the Colonel could concentrate. Hard. The entire town of Bergal frosted over as Keith solidified nitrogen aplenty, as well as some oxygen, right in front of the bandits' eyes, attempting to create a wall in front of them...

They break. To come back again. I cannot let that happen, can I?

Colonel Allaire considered his options, even whilst continuing to snipe at those fleeing. Soon the bastards would be out of his field of fire. He could cut their retreat off with mass pyrokinesis, but he was loathe to do so in a populated area such as this. The chance of massive collateral damage was too high.

A smile crossed his face, however, as he tracked the retreating bandits through the Force. He had another idea, one that would test the outer limits of his abilities, but an idea that would trap them long enough for him to deal with the bastards nonetheless. Solidifying atmospheric gases into a wall to hem the enemy in...this was straight up Master Whitfield's line of tricks, as it required some extreme cryokinesis ability.

Nevertheless, with the enemy gone, the Colonel could concentrate. Hard. The entire town of Bergal frosted over as Keith solidified nitrogen aplenty, as well as some oxygen, right in front of the bandits' eyes, attempting to create a wall in front of them...

The bandits frantically tried to escape, as they were trapped by a very thick and swiftly moving wall of ice. Trapped in their respective hovels and shops, they proceeded to try and break their way out of the ice prison Keith now caught them in. They shot the ice, tried to find alternate exits from buildings, whatever.

In the meantime though, Civil Patrol arrived to find a new glacier had sprung up in Bargal. Dumbfounded, they only split into two groups, one to flank the station and reinforce the Loading Dock and the other to go and secure the station from the inside.

The head of the Column that rushed into the station arrived with fully armed CP agents, fanning out to secure the area. The head then asked, "Civil Patrol! Is everyone alright!?"
-----------------

Chin, meanwhile, left the Splinters to be rounded up by an incoming CP squad, who informed them that the Splinters were being beaten back by the more well organized Civil Patrol units that held their ground and decided not to take bullshit, inspired by the man who reportedly took on three squads with only dual pistols and an AK. Radio reports indicated a column was heading to trap the Splinters at the loading dock. Chin siezed this opportunity to begin clearing out more soldiers.

About the only way the criminal scum could break the ice was to shoot it, as Colonel Allaire had made the ice walls too thick for other methods to be very effective. Unfortunately for the attackers, it only happened once before Colonel Allaire caught on to it and started slagging the criminal elements' gun barrels. Keith *popped* out of the building, teleporting outside, and those who had shattered one of his ice walls met a deadly combination of Force Pull and the sharp end of Keith's naginata.

The ten thousand shards of the ice wall then picked themselves up, and reassembled themselves, before more could escape from it. Those who were scared shitless of Colonel Allaire, and trying, and failing, to get away from him, heard a rather blunt voice in their heads: Surrender. Now. Ah, yes, Colonel Allaire was just as blunt in mass Force telepathy as he was in person...unfortunately.

About the only way the criminal scum could break the ice was to shoot it, as Colonel Allaire had made the ice walls too thick for other methods to be very effective. Unfortunately for the attackers, it only happened once before Colonel Allaire caught on to it and started slagging the criminal elements' gun barrels. Keith *popped* out of the building, teleporting outside, and those who had shattered one of his ice walls met a deadly combination of Force Pull and the sharp end of Keith's naginata.

The ten thousand shards of the ice wall then picked themselves up, and reassembled themselves, before more could escape from it. Those who were scared shitless of Colonel Allaire, and trying, and failing, to get away from him, heard a rather blunt voice in their heads: Surrender. Now. Ah, yes, Colonel Allaire was just as blunt in mass Force telepathy as he was in person...unfortunately.

And with that, the Loyalists decided that probably, it was best to listen to this guy. Especially as CP had surrounded them, leveling rifles at head level and basically demanding the same. So, they dropped what was left of their rifles, and decided to surrender.

With that, the Loyalists were stopped, and the Farce ended.

At least for Allaire....

Colonel Allaire, having previously observed CP's obsession with Standard Operating Procedure, left the CP officers to actually apprehend the Abdi Loyalists, providing intimidation value when needed. However, the Loyalists had quite rudely interrupted his..."friendly chat" with Father Abdi. Moreover, Colonel Allaire still had some outstanding business with him, namely the matter of getting that bounty on his head rescinded. Besides, a little interrogation of Abdi concerning the activities of his underlings might prove useful, for both him and CP. Not too aggressive of an interrogation, of course...it would be a shame if the doctors did not approve.

Colonel Allaire sauntered back over to the main desk of the police station, where a shell-shocked desk sergeant hid. "How rude it was of them to interrupt my friendly little visit with Abdi Abdikamar Maxamed. Is it possible for me to resume my little chat with him?"

Colonel Allaire, having previously observed CP's obsession with Standard Operating Procedure, left the CP officers to actually apprehend the Abdi Loyalists, providing intimidation value when needed. However, the Loyalists had quite rudely interrupted his..."friendly chat" with Father Abdi. Moreover, Colonel Allaire still had some outstanding business with him, namely the matter of getting that bounty on his head rescinded. Besides, a little interrogation of Abdi concerning the activities of his underlings might prove useful, for both him and CP. Not too aggressive of an interrogation, of course...it would be a shame if the doctors did not approve.

Colonel Allaire sauntered back over to the main desk of the police station, where a shell-shocked desk sergeant hid. "How rude it was of them to interrupt my friendly little visit with Abdi Abdikamar Maxamed. Is it possible for me to resume my little chat with him?"

The Desk Sergeant got up, holding a railpistol in his hand. Darting about nervously, he picked up the phone and then dialed for a situation update.

The reply came swiftly, and the Sergeant hung up the phone. He then replied, "The Loyalists may have surrendered, but out back, the CP units there are still facing resistance. Not that it would matter, since some guy, presumably the other Force user, is doing a lot of work out back. Anywho, I think it is safe to go back; just stay in this quarter of the station!"

He then sighed, and flopped down into his chair.

-------------------

Chin's task was near an end. The Splinter faction, he sensed, was on its last legs. The Civil Patrol units that had arrived were whittling the enemy down, and it showed in the suddenly thinning resistance. It was almost....anticlimactic in a way. But, he breathed in, and repeated his exercises. Didn't want to let his bloodlust overtake him.

As he walked through the complex, keeping eyes and senses out for the foe, a gun--no, a series of guns--cocked near his head as he entered a large room. He spun around and used the Force to knock the gun out of the way as a series of shots hit the wall next to him. Recovering from the turn, he saw his attackers, two Somalis and a white man. The white man was a tall white man, in paramilitary gear. Chin sensed an air of menace and arrogance about him, and as he aimed his dual pistols up, the man aimed his rifle square at his head.

"I've been waiting to collect the bounty on your head for a while, boyo!" the man said, with sadistic relish.

Chin smiled, and smugly replied, cocking his guns, "Your's first."

A silence.

A pause.

It seemed as if the staring match would last forever. The two began walking around each other, sizing one another up as the mercenary ordered his guards to stand by. Chin figured by the poise this guy struck and his bodyguard compliment that he was the head of this op. The mercenary, meanwhile, sized up his opponent. He thought the Chinese foolish for bringing only dual pistols to a gunfight where he had superior arms. But then again, his radio had been crackling with reports of a madman with dual pistols tearing up their ranks. This was him, perhaps? In that case, better to stay sharp.

After several minutes, Chin felt somewhat drowsy...and needed to yawn....and it provided him with the perfect opportunity.

He raised his arms, as to stretch them out. Yawning, he quickly brought down one of his hands and slowed time around the mercenary, tracking him as the mercenary moved, and tried to react to events. Moving to intercept, he surprised the mercenary by then leaping into the air, and jumpkicking him in the face, aiming the pistols at the guards, who were too dumbstruck to fire back. The mercenary collapsed, as Chin turned off the slowing field and time sped back to normal.

Landing on top of him, Chin then aimed his guns at the man's head. He then said, with a tone that brooked no bullshit, "Call them off."

The mercenary then said, "You mean the bodyguards?"

Chin snapped back, "No, the fucking soldiers. Call them off." To ram the point home, he pulled the hammers back on the pistols.

The mercenary then reached for his walkie-talkie, and spoke into it, saying, "End operation.....now......we are defeated."

He then threw the walkie down, and then sighed.....

Before entering Abdi's room, Colonel Allaire utilized the Force to detect any further fighting, that he may know if his services were needed elsewhere. He sensed little more than resignation and surrender, the Loyalist commander having given the order to cease fire. Therefore, he entered Abdi's room, and the look on his face was somewhat less than present.

"How rude to have your goons interrupt our conversation," Colonel Allaire growled. "Anyway, to the unfinished business...the unfinished business of the bounty on my head and that of 'the Chinese guy.' "

Before entering Abdi's room, Colonel Allaire utilized the Force to detect any further fighting, that he may know if his services were needed elsewhere. He sensed little more than resignation and surrender, the Loyalist commander having given the order to cease fire. Therefore, he entered Abdi's room, and the look on his face was somewhat less than present.

"How rude to have your goons interrupt our conversation," Colonel Allaire growled. "Anyway, to the unfinished business...the unfinished business of the bounty on my head and that of 'the Chinese guy.' "

Abdi had heard the gunfire from inside and all around; he knew something happened outside involving his forces and the Civil Patrol. He simply readjusted himself, sitting up as best as a man in a full body cast could and declaring, "Well, what can I say? My boys care about their father very much."

He then looked out the window, and said, "Tell me. I suppose that the fact the shooting stopped means that they've either all died, or surrendered. Is that correct?"

"You are correct." Colonel Allaire glared at Abdi, his voice about as friendly as Darth Vader's. "I would suggest rescinding the bounty before it encourages more such stupidity."

"You are correct." Colonel Allaire glared at Abdi, his voice about as friendly as Darth Vader's. "I would suggest rescinding the bounty before it encourages more such stupidity."

Abdi sighed. Stroking his chin with his good hand, he realized that his supply of men had dwindled overnight, along with his business. Even if he survived this, he was officially finished in this town. May as well surrender now, and live on.

Abdi smiled bitterly, declaring, "You win. I will rescind the bounty. Let me get the word out, and I can promise you that this will be so."

"Indeed. Allow me to get one of those radios that we seized from your mercenaries. I will be back momentarily."

CP apparently had had their hands full with the surrender, as Colonel Allaire still found his headless sniper victims. Perhaps it was unbecoming, but it was quick and efficient, just the way any good Woodian military officer liked it. He swiped one of the walkie talkie radios off the merc's corpse and re-entered the CP headquarters. "I need to speak to Abdi AGAIN," he explained to the wearied desk sergeant with a wan grin.

"Indeed. Allow me to get one of those radios that we seized from your mercenaries. I will be back momentarily."

CP apparently had had their hands full with the surrender, as Colonel Allaire still found his headless sniper victims. Perhaps it was unbecoming, but it was quick and efficient, just the way any good Woodian military officer liked it. He swiped one of the walkie talkie radios off the merc's corpse and re-entered the CP headquarters. "I need to speak to Abdi AGAIN," he explained to the wearied desk sergeant with a wan grin.

The sergeant just waved him by, he knew that Allaire wasn't going to try to break out the paitent so he figured it wasn't all that bad to not get permission from above.

The Colonel thanked the desk sergeant before proceeding with his semi-contraband radio. Whereupon he proceeded directly into Abdi's hospital ward cell. "I have your communication device," he said, somewhat gruffly, as he shoved the thing in Abdi's face. "You can get word out of the bounty cancellation now."

The Colonel thanked the desk sergeant before proceeding with his semi-contraband radio. Whereupon he proceeded directly into Abdi's hospital ward cell. "I have your communication device," he said, somewhat gruffly, as he shoved the thing in Abdi's face. "You can get word out of the bounty cancellation now."

Abdi grimly took the radio with his good hand, and held it to his face, as he said with disappointment, "This is Father Abdi. The bounty on the head of the white man and the Chinese is now suspended. I cannot say why, only that it is suspended and that all units are to regroup elsewhere."

Colonel Allaire walked over to Abdi's bed, giving him a stern stare of doom. It was clear that the Colonel considered his response, or part of it, insufficient.

"What is this about 'regroup elsewhere?' " the Colonel demanded, his tone of voice growing even icier than it had been before. "You planning on another jailbreak attempt when I am not looking?"

Colonel Allaire walked over to Abdi's bed, giving him a stern stare of doom. It was clear that the Colonel considered his response, or part of it, insufficient.

"What is this about 'regroup elsewhere?' " the Colonel demanded, his tone of voice growing even icier than it had been before. "You planning on another jailbreak attempt when I am not looking?"

Abdi stared the Colonel in the eyes. He was in no mood for assholitude, especially now. Returning the tone with his own glare, Abdi simply replied, "I have surrendered to you already, Colonel. My men are pulling back, they will lick their wounds for now and await further orders from me. If I were you, I wouldn't make any more moves. I could easily use what influence I have left to bring you to court. Do you even have jurisdiction here, for that matter? Even if you're not from California, the godforsaken hellhole you came from must have a low tolerance for vigilantes."

Colonel Allaire was not in the mood to suffer assholitude either, and Abdi was one to talk. "I am sure the government authorities appreciate seizing your assets in payment for all those taxes your little smuggling operation evaded," he retorted, in a cruel voice. "And your men will not await further orders from you, as I did not break up your little racket only to see it reconstituted before I leave." The Colonel's left hand reached for Abdi's nuts, already no doubt injured by his knee earlier, and squeezed them, hard. "You will order your operation to disband and cease all illegal activities. You are to have no contact with them again. Unless, of course, you wish to be castrated here and now."

Colonel Allaire was not in the mood to suffer assholitude either, and Abdi was one to talk. "I am sure the government authorities appreciate seizing your assets in payment for all those taxes your little smuggling operation evaded," he retorted, in a cruel voice. "And your men will not await further orders from you, as I did not break up your little racket only to see it reconstituted before I leave." The Colonel's left hand reached for Abdi's nuts, already no doubt injured by his knee earlier, and squeezed them, hard. "You will order your operation to disband and cease all illegal activities. You are to have no contact with them again. Unless, of course, you wish to be castrated here and now."

Not wanting to lose the ability to have anymore kids, he decided to assent to the request. Sighing then wincing from the pain, Abdi simply replied, "Fine! It's not like Civil Patrol's going to let me have contact with my boys anyway."

The CP guard in the room nodded, seconding the truth of Abdi's statement. He then added jocularly, "Mhm. Where he's going.....he'll be far from his boys anyway. Nobody from his clan's there, as far as we know."

To drive home the point, the CP man cocked his lasgun. Abdi then spoke into the walkie talkie and then said, "All units. Surrender to Civil Patrol; no more bloodshed is desired or wanted at this time."

Colonel Allaire, finally satisfied with Abdi's surrender, released his rather painful grip on his nuts, much to Abdi's relief. However, breaking up the threat posed by his little organization left him with little to do, at least in the immediate area, until some random Jedi felt like coming here to claim him. Turning to the various CP officers, he asked, "Any good rock climbing around here?"

Colonel Allaire, finally satisfied with Abdi's surrender, released his rather painful grip on his nuts, much to Abdi's relief. However, breaking up the threat posed by his little organization left him with little to do, at least in the immediate area, until some random Jedi felt like coming here to claim him. Turning to the various CP officers, he asked, "Any good rock climbing around here?"

"There's a series of crags to the North of here. That may offer a challenge for you," said the CP man who had just spoken before.

"Would be nice to know how far north. Meh. Thanks anyway." The Colonel nodded before turning to leave.

He sped north on the motorcycle he had captured earlier, looking for large crags. Initially, he was disappointed, but after a couple of hours of searching, he found something that might be interesting a couple hundred kilometers to the north. Some of these crags looked to be nearly five hundred meters...they might actually take more than an hour to climb.

Maybe.

With the sun casting a long shadow over him as it set (keeping the glare out of his eyes, thankfully), Colonel Allaire set about quickly and efficiently scaling the crags that the law enforcement guy had told him about. Halfway up, he sensed something...

I watched the Colonel approach up the crag, standing on a thin rock stalgamite with nothing more than my feet maintaining balance. The sun was setting, so it was going to be chilly, but I didn't worry, for the battle to come would keep my body warm. For this little scrap, I wore my regular battle outfit sans cloak, rather than the dragonhide cloak and Jedi BDU that would be necessary against a Sith Lord or Remiel. Actually, it's a Jounin outfit, only mine doesn't have the red swirl, but the family seal.

And now, he has sensed my presence. Soon, the apprentice will be tested. Soon, it will be decided if he has the skill and cunning to be granted the rank of Jedi Knight.

Either way, I hope he'll give me a good workout. Unlike his duels with Taylor, he is sure to find me a decidedly difficult opponent...

He has higher ground than do I. Not good. Colonel Allaire "climbed" laterally, such that he could go around this interloper. He had not yet been challenged, or fired upon, and he wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible, so he could get into a better position. While he could just teleport to the top of the crag, that was too quick and easy, and would do little more than simply give away his abilities.

When he was satisfied that he could resume his climb straight up, he did so as quickly as possible without making it too obvious. While he sensed he was in for a fight, he was not going to let the other simply jump on him from above if he could help it. Colonel Allaire rocketed up towards the top while waiting for the other to challenge him...

I smiled. So he'll go for the top. Then that will be our arena.

Without even so much of a warning, I sprang for another crevice, landing on it as a cat would land on a narrow windowsill, and bounced upwards towards the top of the rock outcropping in that manner. It was a flat plateau, conveniently wide enough for our duel and as I hopped onto the flattop, I waited for Colonel Allaire.

Keith stopped climbing about three meters short. He wished to make a better entrance than that, as he sensed his would-be-challenger had already moved to the top and the last thing he wanted was to be kicked down while climbing up.

So he used the Force to sense where his would-be adversary was, and Force-vaulted himself into the middle of the mini-plateau, far enough away from one...

Daniel Masaki...

so that such unfortunate events would not occur. Of course, Daniel had not been wearing a pack with more than fifty kilos of supplies (including ammo), much less another thirty-kilo naginata attached to that, either. Yet the Colonel breathed normally, seemingly not tired at all.

"I thought you would leave me here for years, to get rid of me," Keith quipped. "Looks like you came early?"

"Pah. I'd be an old man before I hear from you again." I replied amusedly. I glanced at the huge backpack. It looked like it weighed about as much as I did. "Seems you're carrying everything but the kitchen sink."

"Mostly munitions." Keith let it slide off of his back, now that he was at the summit. "Third World munitions are much heavier...but at least they make good 'ballast' for rock climbing. Anyway, you did not come here to chat, and to be honest, I did not think the Royal Family had the fortitude to come to a place like Somalia..."

"The Royal Family likes to get their hands dirty at times, financial status notwithstanding." I smiled. "We aren't like the Hyuuga, who send their servants to do everything for them. But, I disgress..."

"You have five minutes to knock me off this rock." I said. "You may only use melee weapons or your powers. No teleportation, and that includes me."

A cool breeze passed between us as I eyed him. 3...2...1...

"Begin." It was almost a whisper, yet as much a command as a drill sergeant's.

"Aff," the Colonel acknowledged gruffly, quickly considering Daniel's (known) powers. Electrical, mostly, which meant that metals were out. Keith threw his naginata off the side of the crag; he would claim it later. Ditto his entire backpack, for that matter, he just removed what was not metal from it before ditching it over the side of the crag. Only the guns themselves were perhaps too fragile for that; they stayed, though they would not be doing much, either.

Of course, there was a damn good reason why thunder and lightning got pretty rare when it was cold outside. Keith decided to use that which Master Whitfield had taught him, cooling the air as quickly as he could to reduce the efficiency of Daniel's specialty, even as he walked over to the center. He replaced the naginata he had just cast aside with a crude stone one in short order; the Colonel lifted up an eight-foot boulder, sheared it into several pieces, including a crude eight-foot shaft, and sanded it into a crude polearm within about fifteen seconds, in a sort of forecast of where he intended to take further training from here. Doubtless he would need to soon use his lightsabers instead (he had two, one he had made, one he had captured), but he would leave it up to Daniel to escalate that far.

Wielding his stone spear just as fluently as he had his iron spear earlier, he struck, fast and hard, yet having no delusions of grandeur about it, and continuing to chill the air such that frost formed on the ground, impressive given the dew point was, at the moment, about fifteen degrees Fahrenheit, even as he struck...

I took stock of what Colonel Allaire has learned since I last saw him. He learned Master Whitfield's thermokinetic powers and he's developed the rare polearm skill. This ought to be interesting.

The cold will reduce my electrical efficiency a good deal, meaning that I would have to get close in order to affect him, and his polearm is party in seeking to keep me away. Then I made my decision with cold steel.

Kunai, knives that normally wouldn't do much, make handy defense weapons in the hands of a shinobi or even a Jedi. As the polearm flew towards me, I stepped aside deftly, one kunai sparking on the stone and shoving it aside and the other shooting for the Colonel's vitals...

Even if Keith didn't maintain an iron grip on his spear of stone, the incoming kunai wouldn't have enough kinetic energy to simply knock it aside. Two objects pinged harmlessly off of it, as Keith used the thing to deflect the kunai like a lightsaber deflects blaster bolts. Both kunai bounced off the thing, high into the air, and back over the edge of the cliff, almost like Colonel Allaire was hitting them like baseballs.

Keith sensed that his use of polearms had surprised Daniel quite a bit. Probably because he had learned this form of fighting before the Jedi Order ever knew of him, and thus Jedi had never seen him use it. Which worked to his advantage.

The Colonel took a step forward, wielding his own heavy weapon with his own Force-enhanced strength, nearly the speed of a lightsaber, to clear the space in front of him. Just because he had not previously revealed this experience to the Masakis did not mean that he would not use it now. As Daniel had ruled out teleportation, Keith hoped to drive him to the edge of the cliff...

It was the classic case of using a light weapon to fight a heavy weapon and if it weren't for long years of training the wrists to take boneshattering blows like Darth Vader would use, my wrists would have been torn away by the force of the blow. They still hurt.

So, without a weapon, I was forced to maneuver and dodge the blows, using my considerable ability to Not Be There with my natural agility. I wanted to save my lightsaber until a minute had passed, but it appears that unless I wished to be the Emperor with the record of the World's Fastest Loss, I would need to pull it out and see how he fights with his own.

As I moved closer to the edge, a little more than a foot from doom, Keith moved for a swing, clearing a path in front of him that forced me to hop back a little more. On the end of that swing, my blue blade sprang to life and chopped at it, then stabbed towards Keith...

The stone shaft flung itself away before Daniel could even hit it as its master sensed the change. Keith's own red lightsaber sprang to life to deflect Daniel's stab at him, and shove him back, when...

Keith realized just how close Daniel Masaki was to the boundary. His second lightsaber, the one he had built on his own, flashed green as it also hit Daniel's blue blade, hard. Simultaneously, Colonel Allaire concentrated his attention on the ground beneath Daniel's feet, shearing the ground just underneath him so that it would give way and send Daniel over the edge. Largely the same treatment he had given the boulder from whence his earlier polearm had come...

A Force Push against Daniel to send him over the edge wouldn't hurt things, either...

I felt the ground shift under me and at the same time, Allaire's Force Push rushed at me. Quite a predicament, one would say. Perhaps even a loss, one would say. That would be true for a Knight, especially an orthodox one.

Unfortunately, I wasn't an orthodox Knight. I was a Masaki, and this predicament was...mildly troublesome at best. All it took was to absorb the energy of the Force Push, direct that energy into holding the broken ground for the microsecond I needed to jump up and over Allaire's head, and then slash at the would-be Knight.

No way would I lose *that* easily!

Damn. Time for Plan B, Keith thought to himself as he dodged Daniel's blow. Now as both of them were in the middle, he would have to find a way to bring heavy weapons back into this thing. He had an idea...

For a few seconds while Daniel attacked him, he used Soresu to parry Daniel's blows, mostly because Soresu freed his mind to concentrate on other things. Namely, the hilt of Daniel's lightsaber--if he could decommission it, or otherwise render it inoperable, it would make his life much easier. Training under Master Whitfield certainly had had its advantages, and while using Soresu with two lightsabers might have looked a bit odd, but such did not matter. He also kept careful track of his location, so he did not make the same mistake Daniel had just made, the mistake that had sent him so tantalizingly close to going over the top.

Daniel would notice that his lightsaber hilt suddenly felt warm to the touch as Keith concentrated on superheating it with the attention leftover from making sure Daniel didn't get a hit in. Within a few seconds, it would be too hot for most people to touch, but even Jedi had limits on heat tolerance, and if Daniel didn't, well then...a few seconds later the hilt would start to deform as it started to melt anyway. While Colonel Allaire normally did not use Soresu, thinking it too passive, it did occasionally come in handy where concentration was needed for something else...

Getting warm, eh? I thought as I felt the lightsaber warm up under my gloves. At this rate, I had only a few seconds before my lightsaber became too hot to handle, so I figured I had no choice but to return the favor, my style.

From the tips of my fingers, a powerful current charged up and lept from the nails to Colonel Allaire, current powerful enough to overcome the cold air and impact with enough energy to light up several houses.

Colonel Allaire knew Daniel was up to something when he felt his hair stick up. His stone spear came flying back to him, for nothing more than to discharge the static that warned him what was coming.

Daniel's electricity came a fraction of a second too late. Rather than coursing throughout Keith's body, it had to ground itself into several rocks that exploded from the ground, only to fall back down again.

As for Keith, he had jumped over Daniel and was now behind him. Realizing that the ambient temperature had been allowed to climb about five degrees, he figured he would have to do something about it...as soon as Daniel's weapon was disabled, anyway.

Ironically, the biggest test of his skills so far was whether he could heat a small object and cool everything else concurrently. For a small second, he could concentrate on doing both, and Daniel's lightsaber continued to grow hotter, as a newly frigid breeze blasted Daniel himself...

Whilst combat was occurring between Daniel Masaki and Colonel Keith Allaire, Chin Tai-Wong, Acolyte, had just left the office of the Civil Patrol. ISB-CP had him filling out forms and assisting with Graves detail--or rather what passed for it around here. It was nasty work. For serious.

As he walked outside, muttering Cantonese curses, he saw people muttering. Not about the scene, but about something occuring in the hills. Chin walked up to one of them, and used that old Acolyte art, Interpretation, to figure out what they were saying.

"Excuse me, ma'am. What's the fuss?"

"Oh man! You missed a lot! First there was a big shootout! Now, word is out in the mountains, there's a duel going on! Like in an American Western!" the man frantically said.

"No, like a samurai film!" another said. Yet another said, "The fuck is a samurai?"

Chin then mused, "I think I know those guys. Or at least one of them." He then located a motorbike, and drove off, eager to figure out what was going on.

Heat and cold at the same time? I don't think Taylor ever did that... I thought with surprise. With that level of control over his powers, he'd definitely make a good Knight. He didn't know it yet, but he just passed the final exam. All that's needed now is to knock me off my pedestal, so to speak.

My lightsaber became dangerously hot and I was forced to release it. No matter, for I still had the Force as my ally. I moved into a kung-fu stance, one arm high and one arm low, my forefingers pressed together and pointed towards Allaire and then released a barrage of lightning upon him from the tips, each one a debilitating blow if connected...

It did not connect. Keith used Force Speed to get the hell out of the way, as Daniel fried more rocks. And the temperature kept dropping, even as Keith gave Daniel's dropped lightsaber a hard Force throw, as hard as he could, or off the plateau unless Daniel decided to intervene. Too bad he was blasting lightning instead. Daniel didn't know it yet, but Keith would keep the temperature falling until either atmospheric gases such as oxygen and nitrogen started condensing in the air, or the duel ended, whichever came first. Given the time limit, it would probably be the latter.

Keith turned off his lightsabers, and threw one off the plateau, and clenching the other between his teeth in case he would need it. He took up his stone spear again, and became little more than a blur as he attacked Daniel, using the length of the spear to break any extraneous limbs before they could have any hope of reaching his own body. Keith hoped to drive him off the edge again...

I moved and dodged against the spear, using what space I could manage to keep from getting hit. This time around, I kept an eye on my location as I strove to keep away from the ledge and then came an opening whereby I ducked aside and grabbed the spear, holding it in place long enough to kick at Allaire...

Daniel was in for a ride.

The Colonel had no intention of giving up the spear, and he knew that the fact that Daniel had grabbed it meant he was too slow. However, that did not spell his doom, either, for Allaire's response was quick, harsh, and systematically brutal. First jerking the spear back, so hard that a normal person would probably get a shoulder dislocation or worse from trying to hold on to it, then jamming it back into Daniel's body as quickly as he could get away with it. If there was a silver lining, it lay in the crudeness of the spear; fifteen seconds was not enough time to sharpen it, and Keith knew where to thrust it so the resulting injury would not be life-threatening. But if Daniel Masaki wanted a fight, a fight he would have. And the clock was ticking.

Meanwhile, the temperature continued to drop. By now, it felt quite a bit more like Hoth than Somalia, the temperature close to thirty below and dropping. Tiny ice granules blew with the wind as the temperature fell too rapidly for further frost to form on the ground, as Keith forced the air temperature well below dew point. Not enough moisture in the air to conduct electricity, as air that cold can barely hold moisture at all! Colonel Allaire had no problem using the Force to keep warm...poor Daniel might want to take lessons from his younger brother on rudimentary heat generation after this...

And Keith was getting faster in his movements. He had to, if he was going to force the evasive bugger out of the Circle of Equals within the specified time limit.

It was brutal. My chest was hammered by the stone spear and my shoulder hurt from trying to hold on to it, but I persisted...and focused. Through the Force, I could feel the fracture lines in the stone spear, the miniscule cracks that just needed...to...be...widened. And did so.

Using Force Speed and by gunning the throttle on his Triumph, Chin sped as quickly as possible to the mountains outside of town...

He knew something was up. Those Somalis wouldn't be talking unless something was going on. Was Keith getting himself into trouble, again?

Keith, too, sensed the cracks starting to appear in his stone spear. It was no matter, for it was...expendable. He could make a new one just as easily as he had this one. After all, there was no shortage of rocks around. Big rocks, even.

As Keith pressed his attacks against Daniel, another boulder, this one nine feet across raised itself. The rock seemed to shatter, but a nine-foot shaft emerged from the rock's cleaving, whereupon one of its ends sharpened itself a bit. Keith called the replacement to him with the Force, at this point shattering the old one into a thousand shards in a shrapnel attack against Daniel, so the Lightning Master would not be able to use his own craft against him.

Meanwhile, as it was getting colder, almost cold enough to make things really interesting, the military commander in Colonel Allaire came out, as he considered a way to keep Daniel going in one direction, that he may reach the edge, instead of dodging too far to the left or right and allowing the combat to drift into a circle. Rocks from both Daniel's left and right flew straight at him as Keith continued hammering against him with his fresh spear, and Keith also made sure that more rocks flew straight over his head to intercept any attempt at a Force Jump over him.

The duel site now was, literally, colder than Hoth at night, as Keith maintained a certain degree of concentration on making the temperature drop. Just a little more, and Keith would have some...surprises for poor Daniel.

OOC: New Dornalia, please wait.

As Keith used his powers to produce a new spear, I let go and not a moment too soon as I put up my arms and shut my eyes to protect my face from Keith's exploding spear.

"Ugh!" A thousand shards lashed out at me, cutting my skin and bleeding me like hell. The cold only made it hurt more.

Ah, speaking of the cold, it was definitely getting colder than I was comfortable with, thanks to Keith driving down the temperature. It was already cold enough to freeze a normal's lungs out and soon it would be cold enough to condense oxygen. I'd have to take him out before it gets any colder...as soon as I could get away from that sharper spear!

Yep, once again I was forced to dodge or slap away the spear but this time, it was driving me towards the edge, with random flying rocks keeping me in said position. I could feel that soon I would have to make a last-ditch effort to stay or fall off. So, I focused on the air around me, stripping electrons from atoms to build up a charge, although it's taking longer than usual due to lack of moisture...

Keith sensed various molecules around him losing their electrons, and he knew what that meant. That the atmospheric conditions he had created were quite hostile to Daniel's task only bought him time. He had to act quicker.

Continuing to use his new spear to drive Daniel Masaki back, and whilst causing rocks to whiz through the air to keep Daniel Masaki retreating in said direction, one Keith Allaire decided that he needed to concentrate his own efforts to suck the heat straight out of the air on the atmosphere directly in front of him, between himself and Daniel. As he now only focused on cooling a few cubic meters of air, rather than all the air immediately surrounding the Circle of Equals, it cooled significantly faster.

Daniel could only watch (and not even that, he was too busy trying to dodge!) as the air in front of him condensed. First the oxygen, then even the nitrogen condensed, as Keith chilled it to a mere seventy degrees Kelvin. By now, carbon dioxide had long frozen into dry ice...

However, this was not some pretty, dazzling display of condensation. At least, Keith Allaire did not intend it that way. To that end, when he had Daniel nearly as close to the edge as he did last time...

A joint-freezing blast of wind gusted as Keith sucked every bit of atmosphere he could find and grab with the Force into his little flash-freezer air pocket. It was a good thing that he, at least, was also able to use the Force for some degree of personal warmth, or he would have frozen himself to death by now. As it was, after forcing a good bit of air through that little air pocket, he blasted the whole glop of liquified air, assorted shards of solidified gases such as dry ice included, straight at Daniel, as fast as he could, as hard as he could, continuing to use some pretty big rocks as bullets to ensure Daniel stayed there.

By now, the entire atmosphere was cold enough for Keith to do it over and over again, as required. Now Daniel had far more to worry about than stripping electrons.

Just for good measure, Keith kept up his attacks with his spear even as liquefied air blasted itself at him...

At the same time Keith charged up his huge iceball, I charged up as well, performing my patented Thunderbolt technique, but Keith got the drop on me, and his iceball smacked into my chest just as I was ready to fire. I gasped in shock at the pain of liquid nitrogen and oxygen hitting open wounds and bare skin. It was as if Keith stuck me with a thousand blades, but an order of magnitude worse and it paralyzed me as well. The sudden assault of supercold material made my charged up attack misfire and detonate, knocking me off the cliff. Victory goes to Keith!

Now if only I could recover from being frozen and jettsoned off the cliff long enough to avoid crashing onto the rocks below!

Had Keith Allaire been a Dark Jedi, or worse yet, a Sith Lord, he would have been perfectly content to simply let Daniel Masaki fall to his death. But no, Keith wasn't like that; even though he did not particularly like Daniel, he did not wish to kill him, either.

Colonel Allaire reached over the ledge with both his hand and the Force, and broke Daniel's fall about twenty meters from what would have been the latter's rocky doom. He shuddered at the mere thought of having Daniel Masaki's life in his Force grip, quite literally. It was one thing for Daniel to challenge him, writing him off as a doormat Padawan learner, but though Daniel had told Keith to knock him off the plateau, Keith had not quite expected this.

Keith most assuredly did not enjoy the situation. As he held Daniel above the ground, he commented wryly, "Now might be a good time to teleport." Then, as he fully realized what getting doused with liquid nitrogen would do to a person, he lowered Daniel gently to the ground, relieved at releasing his Force grip on him, and teleported down there himself to see about warming the "Lightning Master" up.

I barely felt Keith slow my fall, as I was frozen solid. I set about warming myself up, but my concentration was wavering. The last thing I thought before I passed out was that Keith has exceeded expectations and that he passed with flying colors. Also, hypothermia feels like it's going to set in. I focused my last energies on entering a healing trance...and passed out.

Fuck. He is practically in cryo, and there is not a hospital within three thousand kilometers of here capable of safely bringing him out. Handling cryonic patients, such as was now the case with Daniel, required some pretty specialized medical equipment normally found in elite research universities, or flagship military hospitals. Neither one of which, Keith was sure, existed anywhere near Somalia. Eheayana had a facility capable of handling this, and Coredia probably did two, but both were a suborbital flight away.

But he had an idea as Daniel passed out in front of him. Though he hated to do this, he looked for Chin's presence in the Force. Unfortunately, it was still more than a hundred kilometers due south; the entire duel had taken only a few minutes. He was not particularly looking forward to the inevitable questions.

Colonel Allaire projected all his concentrations on Force telepathy.

Chin, get a medical shuttle capable of suborbital flight, now. Someone decided that he wanted to test me, and now he has shrapnel wounds, severe hypothermia, and liquid nitrogen burns all over his body. Almost like he went in cryo. I am a little more than a hundred kilometers north of you, and I will use flares to signal the medical ship.

Oh, and get going, because that someone is Daniel Masaki...

Fuck. He is practically in cryo, and there is not a hospital within three thousand kilometers of here capable of safely bringing him out. Handling cryonic patients, such as was now the case with Daniel, required some pretty specialized medical equipment normally found in elite research universities, or flagship military hospitals. Neither one of which, Keith was sure, existed anywhere near Somalia. Eheayana had a facility capable of handling this, and Coredia probably did two, but both were a suborbital flight away.

But he had an idea as Daniel passed out in front of him. Though he hated to do this, he looked for Chin's presence in the Force. Unfortunately, it was still more than a hundred kilometers due south; the entire duel had taken only a few minutes. He was not particularly looking forward to the inevitable questions.

Colonel Allaire projected all his concentrations on Force telepathy.

Chin, get a medical shuttle capable of suborbital flight, now. Someone decided that he wanted to test me, and now he has shrapnel wounds, severe hypothermia, and liquid nitrogen burns all over his body. Almost like he went in cryo. I am a little more than a hundred kilometers north of you, and I will use flares to signal the medical ship.

Oh, and get going, because that someone is Daniel Masaki...

Chin felt the presence, it was none other than Colonel Allaire. He smiled, but then realized the gravity of the situation. Daniel Fucking Masaki?! Jesus. He'd have to hurry. Picking up his PDA, he looked about for a medical shuttle. Any medical shuttle that could get to the waiting vessel. Well, that was almost all of them--generally, most hospitals used the Gagarin, which was atmosphere and space capable. The nearest one, it turned out, was in Mogadishu. Good thing. Problem was there was only one. So, he made a call.

"Hello? Yes, this is Chin Tai Wong. Acolyte 3rd Class. I need your Gagarin Medical Transport immediately. Someone has been hurt."

Yelling about who is it, and why led Chin to say, "It's Daniel Masaki. Yes, the Hero of the Revolution! That guy. Look, I can't keep talking, can you airlift him out? He's a hundred miles north of my coordinates. You will see flares. Where am I? Friggin' Bargal, or outside--just go!"

He hung up, and gunned the engine as fast as possible. What the fuck did Allaire do to him? If it was a duel, it was a painful one...

Colonel Allaire decided to make the wait for the shuttle a productive one, considering he could now do little other than waiting, and gathering both his stuff and Daniel's. After he had made himself a "flare" with the Force (that shot up about ten thousand feet, no pilot could hope to miss it). Then his naginata, ditched from the top of the plateau, came skittering across the ground to him, as did the lightsaber he had thrown off, as did Daniel's lightsaber, which was still hot to the touch.

He realized that his pack was only about ten meters away from him, so even though it did not contain anything that he would particularly need anymore (who needed ammo now?), he figured he may as well grab that as well...

Colonel Allaire decided to make the wait for the shuttle a productive one, considering he could now do little other than waiting, and gathering both his stuff and Daniel's. After he had made himself a "flare" with the Force (that shot up about ten thousand feet, no pilot could hope to miss it). Then his naginata, ditched from the top of the plateau, came skittering across the ground to him, as did the lightsaber he had thrown off, as did Daniel's lightsaber, which was still hot to the touch.

He realized that his pack was only about ten meters away from him, so even though it did not contain anything that he would particularly need anymore (who needed ammo now?), he figured he may as well grab that as well...

The lone Gagarin shuttle flew into the distance, lifting off from the helipad of the General Hospital in Mogadishu and rocketing at high speed across the skies. It wasn't often the Gagarin was called in, but whenever there were emergencies that called for paitents to be delivered quickly--or to other facilities--the Gagarin was called in.

Considering that this paitent was important--hell, he was a foreign leader-- the pilot decided to do something stupid, yet if done right, fast. He flew high into the atmosphere into low orbit, flew quickly to Chin's position, and then plummeted itself back down to Earth, screaming like a bat out of hell. Its heat shields holding on for dear life, the Gagarin reappaeared below in the mountains outside of Bargal, where they spotted the massive flare. Flying to its position, Keith would feel a sudden gush of wind and a loud roar as the shuttle hovered above his position, and then landed. Men got out with stretchers and medical kit, as the pilot stuck his head out and went, "You're lucky we got here, son! In about...five point two minutes! That's we call fast."

"He's right there." Colonel Allaire pointed to one very frozen Daniel Masaki. "Dunno if this can be treated locally, however...."

"He's right there." Colonel Allaire pointed to one very frozen Daniel Masaki. "Dunno if this can be treated locally, however...."

The pilot took one look at Daniel, and said, shaking his head, "Nah. We gotta take him to someplace good. Mogadishu General can't do shit about cryo injuries like that. We're in the fucking desert!"

The pilot then said, thinking for a moment and looking on his onboard computer, "Well, let's see. Nearest one's in Rammstein Armed Forces Base, Germany, Tel Aviv, Israel, and Johannesburg, South Africa. But those fucking places might not be good enough for the Hero there." Pushing a few more, buttons, he then said, "I know. We'll go to UCLA Medical Center, Los Angeles, California! Besides, I've always wanted to see America!"

The men picked up Daniel, and stabilized him as best as possible, placing him on the stretcher and hooking up medical equipment to him, such as temperature stabilizers, nanotech healing drip and other such FT healing goodies. Then, after getting him into the shuttle, they got Allaire onboard and shut the pressurized door. Strapping Daniel down and getting him into safety restraints and intertial dampeners (which would protect Daniel in the crazy journey to come), the pilot then said, smiling and holding his thumb up, "HOLD ON TIGHT!" He then jerked the stick back, as the Gagarin lifted off, and then flew forward at high speeds.

Pulling out a disk from his pocket and sticking it into a music player hooked up to some jerryrigged speakers, the pilot said, "I like to fly with some music! I hope you don't mind too much, if you do, I apologize!" Out of the speakers blared loud electric guitar, and the sounds of:

I like to dream yes
yes right between my sound machine
On a cloud of sound I drift in the night
Any place it goes is right
Goes far, flies near, to the stars away from here

Well, you don't know what we can find
Why don't you come with me little girl
On a magic carpet ride
You don't know what we can see
Why don't you tell your dreams to me
Fantasy will set you free


The pilot then said, as he banked upwards and began his trademark insertion manuever, "HERE'S MY FAVORITE PART!"

Close your eyes girl....

...Look inside girl....

...LET THE SOUND TAKE YOU AWAY!!!!!!

He sang along with that last bit, as he climbed into low orbit. Gunning the engine, he then moved forward, the Earth would change from a map of Africa to a map of North America within seconds, and then he said, "Ain't she a beaut." He then located Los Angeles, and radioed UCLA Medical about the situation. Acknowledging them, the Medical center let them into one of the waiting helipads. Then, the pilot then gunned the engine again, saying, "Hold on tight, me boys!"

The inertial dampeners and the safeties onboard were the only thing keeping the passengers from being squished or smeared, as they plunged into the atmosphere and above the skies of Los Angeles. Eventually, the shuttle slowed gently, and made its way to a waiting helipad.

Landing, the doors opened, as waiting medical personnel took the gurney off. The pilot, meanwhile, said quietly, "Four minutes. A new cross continental record."

Colonel Allaire made no comment about the music, either good or bad, and as he was a Jedi, he was able to keep his body language from revealing his thoughts, as well. His expression was almost painfully neutral, but if there was one thing that normals could coax out of the way he looked, it did not look like he wished to be incredibly sociable at the moment.

However, upon re-entry to Earth's atmosphere, the heat shield encountered significantly less stress than it should have for such an engine burn and trajectory, as Keith absorbed the heat of entry with his cryogenic Force powers almost like he was playing with it. How fitting...not that he enjoyed the situation of course.

He knew it was probably only a matter of time before Chin came looking to find out what the hell he had done. That, he probably was not looking forward to. However, the Colonel did regret the mess he had made, and therefore kept track of Daniel's condition about as closely as the medical staff would allow him.

Colonel Allaire made no comment about the music, either good or bad, and as he was a Jedi, he was able to keep his body language from revealing his thoughts, as well. His expression was almost painfully neutral, but if there was one thing that normals could coax out of the way he looked, it did not look like he wished to be incredibly sociable at the moment.

However, upon re-entry to Earth's atmosphere, the heat shield encountered significantly less stress than it should have for such an engine burn and trajectory, as Keith absorbed the heat of entry with his cryogenic Force powers almost like he was playing with it. How fitting...not that he enjoyed the situation of course.

He knew it was probably only a matter of time before Chin came looking to find out what the hell he had done. That, he probably was not looking forward to. However, the Colonel did regret the mess he had made, and therefore kept track of Daniel's condition about as closely as the medical staff would allow him.

As Colonel Allaire was let into the waiting room of the Burn and Cold Injury Ward, Daniel was immediately rushed into a waiting cryochamber. Doctor Patel, who happened to be not too busy and on lunch, was called in to examine the case. He immediately took one look and said, "Sweet jesus."

Putting his glasses on, he began issuing his judgment.

"Gentlemen, ladies, this is a textbook example of a severe cryonic injury. Treating this is a difficult process, normally done by specialized doctors and facilities like this one or in Tokyo General Hospital. He's lucky to have found us."

Walking to the cryochamber, he then said, "Gentlemen, what do you suggest be done?" to the staff. A variety of opinions came out, and then he said, "Good, but all wrong. This is a delicate state. However, there is a precedent for a successful process. Another Jedi master, Master Jacob Whitfield, was saved with the aid of a special substance developed by Doctor Deimos of White Diamond University Medical Center. It is a variant of standard bacta using a combination of healing nanites and bacteria that can resist low temperatures of 120 K. Known as Cryobacta, it may be the key to saving the life of the Hero of the Revolution."

One objected.

"Sir, we don't have that. We have bacta culture, we have fluid, we have nanites....but no cryobacta! Hell, Rammstein AFB has a supply, but they've only got a little. This doesn't happen everyday."

Patel then turned and nodded, saying, "Then we prepare for the worse. Orderly, I want you to begin looking into the reports from the Whitfield Case for the cryobacta recipe and begin gathering the materials. I'm going to make a call."

Patel then left, and then called White Diamond University Medical with a request. He needed cryobacta, or at least a sample of it, to clone and reproduce for use in a procedure to save Daniel Masaki's life, and a person to assist in the procedure. Meanwhile, the recipe was discovered quickly, and then materials were gathered.....

Colonel Allaire waited nervously, well aware he had not yet had a chance to change out of his desert camo military uniform yet, and well aware that some of it was splattered with dried blood. A small fraction of which was Daniel Masaki's dried blood, thanks to the shrapnel wounds from that exploding stone spear.

He felt judged. For what law enforcement called "excessive force," like a police officer pulling out a gun and shooting an unarmed twelve-year-old kid because the kid was busted for shoplifting.

Then again, he was defending himself against a Masaki, against which the notion of excessive force seemed on its face an oxymoron. Then again, Daniel had barely fought at all; when Keith had scored several chest hits with his stone spear, Daniel had not even given him so much as a Force shove to buy some more distance between himself and Keith's melee weapon. Very odd, and very disconcerting.

He was not looking forward to questions, especially as Dornalians, unlike Woodians, idolized Daniel Masaki...

--------------------------

Dr. Patel's call was answered by some poor, overworked medical receptionist. Overworked even beyond the triage nurse. "Cryobacta?" A frazzled female voice replied. "Closest inventory to UCLA would be that of the University of Eheayana Medical Research Institute. Seventy-eight liters. As for available doctors, let me look for a moment..."

Dr. Patel could faintly hear some more keyboard typing over the Holophone.

"Dr. Deimos himself is vacationing in Eheayana, though he is on call. I can page him if you wish."

Oh, yes, sometimes there were some happy coincidences, weren't there? Especially given that the distance between UCLA and Eheayana was shorter than that between UCLA and Somalia...

"Dr. Deimos himself is vacationing in Eheayana, though he is on call. I can page him if you wish."

Oh, yes, sometimes there were some happy coincidences, weren't there? Especially given that the distance between UCLA and Eheayana was shorter than that between UCLA and Somalia...

Patel nodded and replied, "Well, if you could, please page him and get him to come over to UCLA Medical Center as fast as possible. Thank you." Hanging up, Patel then called the University of Eheayana, and asked them, "Hello, this is Dr. Rajiv Patel at the University of California Los Angeles Medical Center. We require some cryobacta supply for analysis and cloning, as we have to perform an emergency procedure as quickly as possible. The procedure involves severe cryo injuries. The man is Daniel Masaki."

------------------------------------------------

Allaire wouldn't have to feel the sting of Dornalian justice just yet. After all, it was still possible to save Masaki's life, thanks to a procedure invented to save his own mentor. However, odd looks started coming towards the Colonel, as the bloody BDUs immediately gave away that there was some sort of fight. What excatly happened to cause this? People were beginning to ask, and they didn't like the conclusions they were drawing, even if Allaire was helping to fix the mess he made.

One receptionist wanted to call the LAPD, but was told to wait.....

"I will arrange for seventy liters of cryobacta to be transfered to UCLA," came the voice on the other end. She waited for a response...but damn they were in a hurry, because the phone went dead.

---------

Meanwhile, Dr. Deimos got the message, fortunately right before he was going to ski on the slopes outside Eheayana. Well, he would not have to worry about falling down the mountain any time soon. Within ten minutes, he was at the University of Eheayana, overseeing the transfer of seventy liters of cryobacta into an orbital medical shuttle, seven ten-liter tanks of it. May as well give UCLA's cloning a head start, because seventy liters wasn't enough to fill a cryochamber.

He climbed in the shuttle for the quick suborbital hop to LA, grabbing another specialist, Dr. Kavanowskii, to join him. While neither yet knew of the involvement of Colonel Keith Allaire, Dr. Deimos would want to speak to him about the incident as soon as he learned more of it.

Nor did Colonel Allaire know Dr. Deimos was coming until the cryobacta arrived...

Meanwhile, Dr. Deimos got the message, fortunately right before he was going to ski on the slopes outside Eheayana. Well, he would not have to worry about falling down the mountain any time soon. Within ten minutes, he was at the University of Eheayana, overseeing the transfer of seventy liters of cryobacta into an orbital medical shuttle, seven ten-liter tanks of it. May as well give UCLA's cloning a head start, because seventy liters wasn't enough to fill a cryochamber.

He climbed in the shuttle for the quick suborbital hop to LA, grabbing another specialist, Dr. Kavanowskii, to join him. While neither yet knew of the involvement of Colonel Keith Allaire, Dr. Deimos would want to speak to him about the incident as soon as he learned more of it.

Nor did Colonel Allaire know Dr. Deimos was coming until the cryobacta arrived...

The cryobacta's arrival was welcome, as the Woodian shuttle landed at the loading dock. Once the materials and the Woodian doctors arrived, they would be quickly greeted by Dr. Patel and a staff of orderlies, who would rush the cryobacta samples to the lab where the other orderlies had gathered the materials for the reproduction process.

As they rushed to the reproduction laboratory, Dr. Patel then said, "I'm Dr. Rajiv Patel, Burn and Cold Injury Specialist. I suppose you two are the Woodians we sent for? Dr. Demios and....." Squinting, he recognized Dr. Kavanowskii from the reports, "Kavanowskii. Good. Lemme bring you up to speed.....Mr. Masaki has extensive cryonic injuries, and more conventional wounds. However, the cryonic injuries obviously prevent us from using regular methods to nurse him to health. This is where you two come in. Come."

Leading him to the room where the cryobacta was being placed, Dr. Patel then said, "Gentlemen, here's where we will begin replicating the Cryobacta. I have to watch over the paitent. Dr. Stevenson will be on staff, she will need assistance with the procedure, as she gathered most of the materials from our stocks and from LA County Hospital. If one of you wishes, you may come to examine Mr. Masaki as well." Dr. Patel then moved to left, motioning for one to follow....

Stevenson, a tallish woman, nodded and said, "Right. Doctors. Let's save a life. I gathered the proper bacteria--those that can survive 120 K--as well as the other materials mentioned in the report. I have the incubators and cloning chambers and other equipment ready."

"Excellent. Is your cryochamber capable of running medical scans?" Dr. Deimos asked as he prepared to assist in replicating the cryobacta samples. "I need to evaluate ischemic damage and vitrification on a cellular level."

"Excellent. Is your cryochamber capable of running medical scans?" Dr. Deimos asked as he prepared to assist in replicating the cryobacta samples. "I need to evaluate ischemic damage and vitrification on a cellular level."

Dr. Patel turned and said, "Yes. Most types of cryochambers used in Dornalian hospitals are calibrated to perform real-time scans and analysis of their charges. They can also perform manual bioscans as well of their charges to very exacting levels, including cellular."

"Good. I would like to evaluate his condition as soon as we immerse him in the cryobacta. Also, I am told that this happened in the duel with one Keith Allaire, yes? I would also like to speak with him before examining Daniel Masaki."

---------------------

Colonel Allaire waited in the waiting room, wondering if the hospital staff had bothered to notify Daniel's next of kin yet. However, he doubted it. He could sense the hero worship through the Force, the resulting suspicion directed at him, and had a vague feeling that Dornalian doctors were so preoccupied with their thoughts and emotions that the little courtesy of notifying Daniel's relatives that he was hospitalized might have completely slipped his mind...

He decided to stop a nurse walking through the room and ask her about it.

OOC: ND, if you could please RP the cloning, and also, CW wants Keith to do the notification of next of kin himself.

"Good. I would like to evaluate his condition as soon as we immerse him in the cryobacta. Also, I am told that this happened in the duel with one Keith Allaire, yes? I would also like to speak with him before examining Daniel Masaki."

---------------------

Colonel Allaire waited in the waiting room, wondering if the hospital staff had bothered to notify Daniel's next of kin yet. However, he doubted it. He could sense the hero worship through the Force, the resulting suspicion directed at him, and had a vague feeling that Dornalian doctors were so preoccupied with their thoughts and emotions that the little courtesy of notifying Daniel's relatives that he was hospitalized might have completely slipped his mind...

He decided to stop a nurse walking through the room and ask her about it.

OOC: ND, if you could please RP the cloning, and also, CW wants Keith to do the notification of next of kin himself.

OOC: Gotcha.

IC:

Dr. Patel nodded, and said, "Keith Allaire? Ah, you must mean the man in the fatigues out in the Waiting Room. You can go talk to him. In the meantime, I must get going, I'll do that scan for you and send you a copy when you're done."

Patel then left the room to check back on Masaki, as Stevenson assisted the Doctors in beginning the cloning process. The cryobacta cultures were copied, the materials used to sustain further samples, and the cloning equipment used to manufacture more out of the materials Stevenson had acquired for the process. Sophisticated Dornalian equipment and impaitence aside, it would take at least a few hours to fully synthesize the needed Cryobacta.

Meanwhile, the nurse, who happened to be a catgirl, looked at Allaire and sniffed him out. Her sixth sense was tingling, and it said that Allaire was beginning to get impaitent about the fact nobody seemed to be doing anything about telling the next of kin. Of course, nobody bothered to tell Allaire that they were busy trying to save Mr. Masaki's life and couldn't easily call out, but the catgirl shrugged. Then again, it didn't take a sixth sense to tell that.

She simply said, "Sir, normally, hospital personnel are supposed to do that. In fact, we were going to inform the family as soon as we could. However, if you wish, you may choose to do so. Hold on." After running to the desk, she came back several minutes later, saying, "You may make the appropriate phone calls."

Just as the nurse told Keith that he could contact the Masaki clan, Dr. Deimos walked into the room on his way to Daniel's cryochamber. The two recognized each other, for Keith had been present for Master Whitfield's treatment...

"Umm. Hello," Keith greeted the doctor, somewhat embarrassed about the situation.

"Hello, Colonel Allaire. Is it possible to speak to you for a moment about what happened?"

"Sure."

"What happened during the duel you had with Daniel Masaki?" the good Doctor asked, in a neutral, non-condemning tone of voice.

"For most of the duel, I was smacking Daniel around with a stone spear; he barely attempted to defend himself. He had instructed me to knock him off a cliff to prevail in my Jedi Trials, so that is what I was trying to do. Most of the time, he dodged. He got the idea to try to break the spear, but I blew it up in front of him and gave him some shrapnel wounds. Then he tried to charge up some lightning, but I hit him with liquefied atmosphere first," Keith admitted. And the Dornalians around made Keith nervous...

"I see. How cold was this 'liquefied atmosphere'?"

"Seventy Kelvin."

Dr. Deimos shuddered a bit; he hated to think of being smacked around by liquefied nitrogen that cold. "Was he conscious after he was hit?"

"For about ten or fifteen seconds. Then he passed out," Keith replied.

Dr. Deimos nodded. "Thank you. I must now go to examine his condition."

-------------------------

It could have been worse. Dr. Deimos could tell that Daniel had been clobbered with the shaft of a spear more than once; he had precisely two broken arms, both of them broken in multiple places. Lots of cracked or otherwise broken ribs. About three hundred pieces of tiny shrapnel were embedded in various parts of his body. Apparently, his Jedi healing trance had kept ischemic damage, basically signs of oxygen deprivation to a minimum. However, vitrification was practically absent, which meant that there was ice within Daniel's body. Especially the chest...and lungs. That little part was not very good; ice did a number on cell membranes.

A week in cryobacta, at least, more likely eight or nine days. Unfortunately, cryobacta was much slower to work than standard bacta, due to the much colder temperatures...but it worked, given enough time. Master Whitfield had spent far less time in cryobacta than Daniel would need, but that was because he was put in standard-temperature bacta solution immediately afterwards, whereas Daniel would need to survive not only the process of reanimation, but also be stable enough to survive a multi-hour operation to remove shrapnel outside of bacta. Not to mention setting his many broken bones. He went off to deliver his assessment to the Dornalian doctors...

---------------------

Meanwhile, Colonel Allaire went off to contact Katrina Masaki, spouse of Daniel Masaki. He felt a sense of dread at the thought of telling her he had just made his husband into a Jedi-sicle...

It could have been worse. Dr. Deimos could tell that Daniel had been clobbered with the shaft of a spear more than once; he had precisely two broken arms, both of them broken in multiple places. Lots of cracked or otherwise broken ribs. About three hundred pieces of tiny shrapnel were embedded in various parts of his body. Apparently, his Jedi healing trance had kept ischemic damage, basically signs of oxygen deprivation to a minimum. However, vitrification was practically absent, which meant that there was ice within Daniel's body. Especially the chest...and lungs. That little part was not very good; ice did a number on cell membranes.

A week in cryobacta, at least, more likely eight or nine days. Unfortunately, cryobacta was much slower to work than standard bacta, due to the much colder temperatures...but it worked, given enough time. Master Whitfield had spent far less time in cryobacta than Daniel would need, but that was because he was put in standard-temperature bacta solution immediately afterwards, whereas Daniel would need to survive not only the process of reanimation, but also be stable enough to survive a multi-hour operation to remove shrapnel outside of bacta. Not to mention setting his many broken bones. He went off to deliver his assessment to the Dornalian doctors...

Dr. Stevenson then shook her head, looking at the batch of cryobacta being cloned for the treatment. Her look belied one of pessimism, noting the grim and dark nature of the news delivered. This was going to be more difficult than usual for the doctors of UCLA Medical's Burn and Cold Injury Ward. Adding to that, there was shrapnel too. Stevenson called Patel, over, and then, once all were assembled, Patel spoke, having also been previously informed by Deimos.

"So it is worse than I thought. He was definetly lucky to come here. Rammstein AFB would've barely been able to do anything for him at this rate. He was indeed lucky to have come here." He then turned to Deimos and said, "Self-promotion aside, we need to get to business. I'm going to bring in a general surgeon to help remove the shrapnel once we get him stabilized. In the meantime, Dr. Stevenson can brief you guys on the cryobacta progress."

As Patel went to a phone and begin making calls, Stevenson said, "We've got more prepared, Doctor Deimos, in addition to the original seventy you brought. Our cloning equipment is working overtime. We should be able to achieve a fast rate, if we work hard enough. Problem is, its gonna take at least six hours to produce enough to fill the fucking tank."

Stevenson then said, raising his hand up: "I know. Doctor Deimos. With your permission, I'd like to get some Cryobacta starter culture to an outside medical center to aid in production."

One of the orderlies said, "Ma'am, which one?" Stevenson then said, "I'll make some phone calls. All I know is that USC, Cedars-Sinai, and Good Samaritan plus LA County General have bacta production facilities. All within easy reach of shuttle. Not sure about highway. 405 can be quite blocked."

After tapping her head for a moment, she then said, no, barked to a nearby medical student, "Orderly, I'm not going to use USC. Not after last time. Good Samaritan's pretty good. And County General's busy too. Cedars-Sinai, however....I can trust them. Call Cedars-Sinai! NOW!"

The orderly ran out, and then Stevenson said to Deimos, "Well? What is your assessment of the idea?"

Meanwhile, Patel finished, and before long, a man with a suspicious resemblance to Mike Farrell from M.A.S.H., with pink shirt, long white coat and clipboard, began sauntering towards the Burn and Cold Injury Ward. Politely greeting some of his coworkers, he then entered the elevator and moved to the Ward....

From the first minute of Katrina Masaki recieving the call and hearing of Daniel's fate, Keith Allaire's ear recieved a steady stream of colorful vocabulary from Mrs. Masaki, vocabulary enough to make a troopship full of Marines cringe in horror. "And you damned well better make sure he's alive at the end of this, or else I'm going to come down there myself and rip your balls out myself!"

"You might want to rip out his balls," Keith replied with a wry sense of humor in his voice. "During all the time I was attacking him with a spear, never once did he even try to Force-shove me away to get some distance away from it. It was almost like he was letting me kick his ass, at least until he was right on the edge and started charging up lightning. Surreal, really. But because I had made it so cold, I froze him faster than he could fry me."

Dr. Stevenson then shook her head, looking at the batch of cryobacta being cloned for the treatment. Her look belied one of pessimism, noting the grim and dark nature of the news delivered. This was going to be more difficult than usual for the doctors of UCLA Medical's Burn and Cold Injury Ward. Adding to that, there was shrapnel too. Stevenson called Patel, over, and then, once all were assembled, Patel spoke, having also been previously informed by Deimos.

"So it is worse than I thought. He was definetly lucky to come here. Rammstein AFB would've barely been able to do anything for him at this rate. He was indeed lucky to have come here." He then turned to Deimos and said, "Self-promotion aside, we need to get to business. I'm going to bring in a general surgeon to help remove the shrapnel once we get him stabilized. In the meantime, Dr. Stevenson can brief you guys on the cryobacta progress."

As Patel went to a phone and begin making calls, Stevenson said, "We've got more prepared, Doctor Deimos, in addition to the original seventy you brought. Our cloning equipment is working overtime. We should be able to achieve a fast rate, if we work hard enough. Problem is, its gonna take at least six hours to produce enough to fill the fucking tank."

Stevenson then said, raising his hand up: "I know. Doctor Deimos. With your permission, I'd like to get some Cryobacta starter culture to an outside medical center to aid in production."

One of the orderlies said, "Ma'am, which one?" Stevenson then said, "I'll make some phone calls. All I know is that USC, Cedars-Sinai, and Good Samaritan plus LA County General have bacta production facilities. All within easy reach of shuttle. Not sure about highway. 405 can be quite blocked."

After tapping her head for a moment, she then said, no, barked to a nearby medical student, "Orderly, I'm not going to use USC. Not after last time. Good Samaritan's pretty good. And County General's busy too. Cedars-Sinai, however....I can trust them. Call Cedars-Sinai! NOW!"

The orderly ran out, and then Stevenson said to Deimos, "Well? What is your assessment of the idea?"

Meanwhile, Patel finished, and before long, a man with a suspicious resemblance to Mike Farrell from M.A.S.H., with pink shirt, long white coat and clipboard, began sauntering towards the Burn and Cold Injury Ward. Politely greeting some of his coworkers, he then entered the elevator and moved to the Ward....

"By all means, distribute the sample to Cedars-Sinai to speed up the process," Dr. Deimos replied with a disturbingly calm voice. "I really should throw Keith in a cryochamber for interrupting my vacation..."

More obscenities streamed from Katrina's foul mouth. Then an eerie calm descended upon her. "I see. Have the Dornalians prepare for my arrival."

"By all means, distribute the sample to Cedars-Sinai to speed up the process," Dr. Deimos replied with a disturbingly calm voice. "I really should throw Keith in a cryochamber for interrupting my vacation..."

Stevenson had a sample gathered, and before long, a team of orderlies and her assistant were off to Cedars-Sinai's Bacta Replication Facility, which would help make more of the needed materials.

Cedars-Sinai Hospital, Los Angeles, Earth SSR

When it arrived, Dr. Goldstein, the head of the Bacta Replication Facility, was quickly briefed on the matter at hand and the cryobacta's specialized nature. He then said, stroking his goatee, "Not a problem. We've got some of the best Bacta plants in the city besides USC and UCLA Medical. Leave it to the Chosen People, eh?" he joked, as he then had the sample rushed to the lab....

More obscenities streamed from Katrina's foul mouth. Then an eerie calm descended upon her. "I see. Have the Dornalians prepare for my arrival."

"Aff," Colonel Allaire acknowledged. "I will let them know." He ended the transmission, not really wishing to incur her wrath. But Daniel had gone easy on him. He hoped Daniel was in more trouble than he was.

After informing the Dornalian medical staff that Katrina Masaki, was coming, he decided to inform Taylor Masaki, the Fire Knight, as well. Oh, yes, this would be fun. Taylor would probably think it funny.

Fortunately, this could be done with Force telepathy, as Keith already knew Taylor quite well. Keith reached out in the Force to find him...

Taylor Masaki! I have a slight problem. Daniel challenged me to a duel. I froze him with liquid nitrogen. And now Katrina Masaki is coming to pwn me...

OOC: ND, if you could please RP the cryobacta cloning up to where there is sufficient quantity...

OOC: ND, if you could please RP the cryobacta cloning up to where there is sufficient quantity...

IC:

It was about three hours later; and Stevenson's plan was coming to fruition. Goldstein's facility had produced just enough to put them over the top, and UCLA Medical had done its share of work as well. Before long, the combined pool of cryobacta was assembled, and Dr. Stevenson reported the success to the Woodians.

Meanwhile, the staff was rushing about, preparing for Katrina Masaki's arrival. As she was a person of some status, it would be necessary to clean the place up, get the staff to smile, shave, and apply deodorant to themselves, and move the more messy cases out of sight to places where work could continue unabated by angry stares. All the while, welcome signs were put up, and the president of the Hospital insisted on showing up with the Board of Directors to greet the eminent royal as she landed in Los Angeles, despite insistence by Dr. Patel that it wasn't necessary....

While the hospital prepared for Katrina Masaki's arrival, Colonel Allaire had other things to worry about.

Like preparing for Katrina Masaki's arrival.

First order of business: Clean clothing. For now, he would have to make do with civilian clothes, which meant paying high Dornalian sales taxes, to a government that, for all he knew, was about to charge him with attempted murder. Speaking of which, he needed to find an attorney as well...

He swiped a map of LA from somewhere in the hospital, then set about making his preparations. Colonel Allaire cared not that he had no vehicular transportation, for he had the Force. Oh, yes. Quite a bit of jogging, and teleporting across intersections displaying those inconvenient red lights, later, he found himself at the Beverly Center, where he plunked down some credits for jeans and an LA Kings jersey (like any good Woodian, he loved hockey), with Gretzky's fabled name and #99 emblazoned on it. Oh, yes, all these years Colonel Allaire had been looking for memorabilia of hockey's Great One...he quietly found a restroom to change and stuffed his old, bloodied military uniform in the shopping bag. His pack had been spared from most of the blood, fortunately.

The Colonel also noticed the Elan Hotel just one block across the street, which was nice and convienent, for it was pretty clear he would be here a while. It wasn't like he couldn't afford it on a colonel's pay; after years of living on military bases and MREs, not to mention assorted compensation for various activities within the Jedi Order, he had substantial savings. The lawyer, on the other hand, might be a different story...

He was in his room not more than ten minutes before he was cruising the Holonet, researching the best Los Angeles-area criminal defense lawyers money could hire. He had heard rumors that the injury of Daniel Masaki could not go unpunished, and as Daniel would want to let it slide in terms of legal consequences, that left criminal charges as the leftover option for the Dornalian Government.

But Katrina was coming soon...too soon...

But Katrina was coming soon...too soon...

One lawyer popped up that was within his budget and his need for BigMcLargeHuge Legal Expertise. One HoloNet website simply said, accompanying a picture of a bespectacled, respectable Korean-American man with a toothy grin and a sharp suit, "In Trouble? No one to turn to? Looking for someone to fight for your rights!? Call Tommy Park. He will fight--and he will win!"

Flashy adverts and fine print aside, the good Colonel would find Mr. Park, esq. to be an expert defense attorney. His long legal record, which he posted on the HoloNet site he--or some lowrent college kid--maintained, gave testament to that. Allaire would notice a sympathy towards minorities, and an emphasis on criminal defense cases. Just the sort of guy he needed to help protect himand his rights against the powers that be that were the Dornalian Internal Security Bureau Civil Patrol Forces and their soon-to-be allies, the Los Angeles Police Department--after all, ISB-CP only had power over unincorporated areas and parts of New Dornalia that had no formal police force or government. Phone number convieniently placed, along with IM handle and e-mail "Contact me!" links, it was clear that this was the guy to go with.

His Kings jersey was good, though this being LA, a home for gangstas par excellence, it inevitably attracted some attention. Though none of the local thugs wanted to mess with this guy. The fact Allaire had turned Daniel Masaki into a Jedisicle hadn't quite made it to the news yet, so he had some breathing room before the shitstorm really occurred--if one did.

Oh, yes. This Tommy Park should do quite well for Colonel Allaire's needs. For only $3840 per hour. Well, Colonel Allaire could afford his services for at least a couple of weeks; his previously miserly life paid off here.

He picked up the phone and dialed the number. "Umm, hello. I do believe I will be on the evening news tonight, and I have a nagging feeling that I will need legal representation, soon. Is it possible to meet for a consultation with one Tommy Park, Esquire?"

Oh, yes. This Tommy Park should do quite well for Colonel Allaire's needs. For only $3840 per hour. Well, Colonel Allaire could afford his services for at least a couple of weeks; his previously miserly life paid off here.

He picked up the phone and dialed the number. "Umm, hello. I do believe I will be on the evening news tonight, and I have a nagging feeling that I will need legal representation, soon. Is it possible to meet for a consultation with one Tommy Park, Esquire?"

The nasally pitched receptionist replied to the Colonel, "Sure. Mr. Park's schedule is free this afternoon, one of his clients had to cancel. Something about a sudden illness. Come right by, I'll hold a spot for you." She then hung up, leaving Allaire to do the rest. Tommy, meanwhile, was informed of Allaire's incoming visit, with the words, "Sir, you've got someone who wants a consultation with you."

To that, Tommy replied, "Did you tell them I'm open?" The receptionist nodded, and to that, Tommy then said, "Good. I'll warm up some coffee for him."

About twenty minutes of combination jogging/teleporting later, Keith found himself at Tommy Park's downtown LA office. And he noticed he was the only person wearing a hockey jersey around within about a mile. No matter.

He walked inside, sensing through the Force that here, his choice of clothing meant more than just hockey. No matter, he could go back to the mall to get some more...neutral...clothing. Why did Dornalians hate hockey?

He walked over to the receptionist's desk, both his EWT military ID and his Jedi ID in hand. "Hello, I am Colonel Keith Allaire, and I have a consultation with one Tommy Park..."

About twenty minutes of combination jogging/teleporting later, Keith found himself at Tommy Park's downtown LA office. And he noticed he was the only person wearing a hockey jersey around within about a mile. No matter.

He walked inside, sensing through the Force that here, his choice of clothing meant more than just hockey. No matter, he could go back to the mall to get some more...neutral...clothing. Why did Dornalians hate hockey?

He walked over to the receptionist's desk, both his EWT military ID and his Jedi ID in hand. "Hello, I am Colonel Keith Allaire, and I have a consultation with one Tommy Park..."

Tommy walked out into the lobby, his appearance in real life just as cheery as his website promised. As Tommy greeted him with a big, "Hello, Colonel Allaire! I'm Tommy Park, defense attorney. Please, come into my office," Tommy sized him up. This Colonel seemed to be the kind of fellow to, if not start a fight, then end it with extreme predjudice. And, his choice of a LA Kings jersey was somewhat unusual. It was warm this time of year, and hockey was not that popular in New Dornalia--it had a following, but nothing to compare, obviously, with the Colonel's hometown.

As they went into the office, Tommy sat down and motioned for the Colonel to sit too. He then pointed to the coffee machine and said, "Would you like some coffee, Colonel? I use only the best."

"Sure. But let us get down to business." Colonel Allaire handed his Jedi ID to the defense attorney as he sat. "I seem to have a small problem. Not long ago, one Emperor Daniel Masaki of CoreWorlds decided that I should go to Somalia as a test to become a Jedi. Not long after I go to Somalia, that same Daniel Masaki proceeds to show up and challenge me to a duel." At this point, a sheepish, "who, me?" look spread across the Colonel's face.

"The problem that I have is, said duel ended with said Daniel Masaki at UCLA Medical Center, with, er, shall we say, liquid nitrogen burns all over his body."

"Sure. But let us get down to business." Colonel Allaire handed his Jedi ID to the defense attorney as he sat. "I seem to have a small problem. Not long ago, one Emperor Daniel Masaki of CoreWorlds decided that I should go to Somalia as a test to become a Jedi. Not long after I go to Somalia, that same Daniel Masaki proceeds to show up and challenge me to a duel." At this point, a sheepish, "who, me?" look spread across the Colonel's face.

"The problem that I have is, said duel ended with said Daniel Masaki at UCLA Medical Center, with, er, shall we say, liquid nitrogen burns all over his body."

Tommy nodded, hearing the story of Colonel Allaire's duel. Letting a soft, "Hmmm" emerge from his mouth, he got up and took out a few books from his legal shelf. "I like to feel the books, I know they're available on digital copy, but still..." he said, as if to justify himself. Flipping through them, he then put a finger up and said, "Ah-ha!" Taking the book to Colonel Allaire, Tommy then said, "Well, I was going over in my mind what laws would apply to your case. And the two I thought of were the National Law Concerning the Conduct of Psykers and Forceusers, and the Criminal Code."

Pointing to the former, Tommy said, "Now here's the rub. Under the former law, the National Law, there is a section where one cannot be held responsible for dueling under Jedi codes, as it is a custom protected by Article 1 of the Worker's Bill of Rights--freedom of religion, so forth. However, there is the rule of 'excessive force in the use of Force powers/psykery may not be used in the course of the duel.' This could be a problem, especially as here in California, dueling is usually seen as something for samurai flicks or old men in white powdered wigs. You may get a judge that decides to interpret 'excessive force' rather strictly.

Also, should that judge decide to interpret the law strictly, you get the Criminal Code's punishment of assault and battery charges, which the law will snag you on. I'd even go as far as to say there's potential for aggravated assault, but the circumstances don't seem to merit that. This will mean a fine not exceeding USD$100,000 and 4 years in jail."

Tommy then shook his head and said, "The situation gets worse if Daniel dies. Then, the judge can get you for murder under a corollary of that part of the National Law. And for murder, we Dornalians can get nasty. We use the death penalty, you know. And not one of the pleasant deaths either; one of the nastier ones, like firing squad or electric chair. Barring that, he may use a life sentence, or deport you with a massive fine and a shoot on sight warning if you choose to come back. Not to mention in both cases, you're open to a civil trial where you can expect all sorts of shit. I imagine the Masakis command considerable financial resources, so a civil trial is not something we want."

Tommy then poured himself some coffee, and drank, saying, "Of course, with me by your side, I can ensure none of that happens--cleanly, of course. To begin, can you describe what exactly occurred during the event? Besides a change of wardrobe--judges don't like people in sports jerseys, so dress formal--this will help me formulate a good case for us if you mentioned what happened, especially to get us within the National Law's provisions. We can also invoke Sharia and other local Somali laws if needed."

"The Masakis are probably more interested in a civil trial against Daniel than against me, once Daniel recovers to tell his story. Unfortunately, the doctors are expecting him to remain in cryostasis for a week..." Keith's voice trailed off.

"And I did not know such a thing as 'excessive force' existed in dealing with the Masakis. I was faster than Daniel by about a second, or I would have been completely fried. Somehow, I doubt that were Daniel the victor and I in UCLA, that the Dornalian legal system would deign to bring the kinds of charges that you describe."

"Now. On to the circumstances of the duel. I was rock-climbing, by myself. Daniel shows up. I go around him, and we both end up on top of a mesa. He tells me that I have five minutes to knock him off, and orders me to begin."

"Now at this point, you must understand that most of my Force-combat specialties lie in thermokinesis--manipulation of heat and cold. Daniel, being the Lightning Master, relies on electricity, which does not conduct well in cold atmosphere. So I chill things as quickly as I can to reduce the efficiency of his abilities. Meanwhile, I flash-carved a spear out of rock to keep him away from me, to prevent him from zapping me with static. Daniel attacked with kunai, but I deflected those attacks and started driving him back with my stone spear."

"Daniel got out his lightsaber when he was close to the edge, and I had to respond by using mine. I nearly knocked him off the cliff in the first minute, but he Force-jumped over me. You have to bear in mind that the whole time, I am trying to keep him from using electricity, because I had a very real sense I could get fried at any moment if I let my guard down. After he jumped over me, I started heating his lightsaber to force him to drop it, and he started zapping electrical attacks, but I evaded them as it was cold enough to make him inefficient enough for me to anticipate them and get out of the way."

"I succeed in disabling his lightsaber, and turn my lightsabers off, going back to my spear to drive him off the mesa once again. He starts charging up a big electrical attack, and I have to react quickly. As I have had the temperature dropping the entire duel, I figured that the quickest counter was a blast of liquefied atmosphere. It hits him just as his lightning attack is ready, his lightning misfires, he goes over the cliff and to UCLA..."

"The Masakis are probably more interested in a civil trial against Daniel than against me, once Daniel recovers to tell his story. Unfortunately, the doctors are expecting him to remain in cryostasis for a week..." Keith's voice trailed off.

"And I did not know such a thing as 'excessive force' existed in dealing with the Masakis. I was faster than Daniel by about a second, or I would have been completely fried. Somehow, I doubt that were Daniel the victor and I in UCLA, that the Dornalian legal system would deign to bring the kinds of charges that you describe."

"Now. On to the circumstances of the duel. I was rock-climbing, by myself. Daniel shows up. I go around him, and we both end up on top of a mesa. He tells me that I have five minutes to knock him off, and orders me to begin."

"Now at this point, you must understand that most of my Force-combat specialties lie in thermokinesis--manipulation of heat and cold. Daniel, being the Lightning Master, relies on electricity, which does not conduct well in cold atmosphere. So I chill things as quickly as I can to reduce the efficiency of his abilities. Meanwhile, I flash-carved a spear out of rock to keep him away from me, to prevent him from zapping me with static. Daniel attacked with kunai, but I deflected those attacks and started driving him back with my stone spear."

"Daniel got out his lightsaber when he was close to the edge, and I had to respond by using mine. I nearly knocked him off the cliff in the first minute, but he Force-jumped over me. You have to bear in mind that the whole time, I am trying to keep him from using electricity, because I had a very real sense I could get fried at any moment if I let my guard down. After he jumped over me, I started heating his lightsaber to force him to drop it, and he started zapping electrical attacks, but I evaded them as it was cold enough to make him inefficient enough for me to anticipate them and get out of the way."

"I succeed in disabling his lightsaber, and turn my lightsabers off, going back to my spear to drive him off the mesa once again. He starts charging up a big electrical attack, and I have to react quickly. As I have had the temperature dropping the entire duel, I figured that the quickest counter was a blast of liquefied atmosphere. It hits him just as his lightning attack is ready, his lightning misfires, he goes over the cliff and to UCLA..."

Tommy nodded, and then replied to the first part, "Right. Well, to be honest, the celebrity nature of this case will make it difficult. After all, you are dealing with the Hero of the Revolution here. Danny's got rock star status, and as much as that makes me wince, a judge would be pressured to interpret the excessive force clause leiniently should the circumstances be reversed. You're lucky we teach justice, not celeb-chasing, as the cornerstone of our system, and deal in strict punishments for bribing judges.....though I wouldn't be surprised if the punishments a judge handed out were on the lower end of the scale."

More optimistically, Tommy continued, saying "Of course, this brings up an interesting idea, Colonel. Your description of events certainly helps me build a good case.

Perhaps we can build your case around the fact that when it comes to the Masakis, there can be some leeway with the definition of 'excessive force.' After all, as you pointed out, Daniel is the Lightning Master, and your tale certainly shows his combat expertise. It is also well known he is a veteran of a longstanding guerilla war with the Galactic Empire. Therefore, we could present the case as one that emphasized his tactical and military skill, and therefore one in which he presented such a challenge to you in this duel that you had to use the methods you described for the sake of an adequate reply. The fact that Mr. Masaki had been injured is regrettable, but worse may have happened if you had not fought back with full force."

"Indeed, I know whom I was fighting, and my military expertise informed me to do everything possible to disarm him--including increasing atmospheric resistance to electrical current. However, after he lost the use of his lightsaber, he spent most of his time physically dodging my spear; not ONCE did he attempt to Force-shove me away instead, which would have bought some distance between himself and I and perhaps bought him some time to prepare lightning attacks. I find that odd, and will have to ask him about that when he recovers..."

"Speaking of which, I have an alternate strategy. UCLA called in Dr. Deimos, the same doctor who treated Master Whitfield after he completely cryofroze himself in an act of self-preservation against mortal wounds. I suggest we attempt to delay the trial until he can testify--it will probably be about two weeks from the good Doctor's prognosis--because he will almost certainly want the charges dropped. He would probably rather have me promoted to Jedi Knight than have me sitting in a jail cell for the results of my Jedi Trials."

Taylor Masaki! I have a slight problem. Daniel challenged me to a duel. I froze him with liquid nitrogen. And now Katrina Masaki is coming to pwn me...

Taylor Masaki replied with a sympathetic voice. I'm sorry, Keith. I'm afraid that I cannot help much. I'll make sure to water the flowers on your grave.

=====

As the Coloniel consulted with his lawyer on the possible nature of the charges, Katrina Masaki and her entourage (who happened to include her brothers-in-law, her daughter, Riley Masaki, and her adopted nephew. Unfortunately, her son is in the tender care of her sister-in-law so he's unavailable for the moment.) arrived on their personal shuttle to the honor guard of the New Dornalians. The Masaki Clan were bemused at all the attention the Dornalians gave them, but motioned for getting to the hospital ASAP...

Taylor Masaki replied with a sympathetic voice. I'm sorry, Keith. I'm afraid that I cannot help much. I'll make sure to water the flowers on your grave.

=====

As the Coloniel consulted with his lawyer on the possible nature of the charges, Katrina Masaki and her entourage (who happened to include her brothers-in-law, her daughter, Riley Masaki, and her adopted nephew. Unfortunately, her son is in the tender care of her sister-in-law so he's unavailable for the moment.) arrived on their personal shuttle to the honor guard of the New Dornalians. The Masaki Clan were bemused at all the attention the Dornalians gave them, but motioned for getting to the hospital ASAP...

OOC: Technically, there wasn't that much of an honor guard waiting, just a limo probably. ;) I decided to scale the personality cult back a bit.

Nodding, the Dornalians rushed the Masakis to UCLA Medical as quickly as possible, not eager to hold up what was a very needed consultation/visit/legal matter. Driving in the midst of LA's notorious traffic, the limo and the LAPD police escorts used their full powers to get everybody to the side, pulling into UCLA Medical's parking lot and getting the family into the hospital.

Of course, LAPD may have kept it simple and businesslike. And so was Patel, with a simple 45 degree bow and a, "Your Highness, I am Dr. Sanjay Patel, specialist here at the Burn and Cold Injury Ward. I am overseeing your husband's treatment. Please, follow me" to Katrina and company, before leading her into the Burn and Cold Injury Ward to meet with the Woodian doctors, brushing off the Board of Directors and their fruit baskets. Patel glared at the suits saying simply, "Excuse me gentlemen, we have business to attend to."

But, as it turned out, the media got wind of this, and a cloud of reporters soon began to descend upon UCLA Medical Center. And as this occurred, the "Masaki Ōendan," the portmanteau of the Coredian leader's last name and the Japanese word for "Cheering section" used to derisively refer to the odd fanbase surrounding the family, began to turn out in force. After all, it wasn't hard to spot a Masaki. And as it was, a squad of screaming fangirls belonging to the Oendan began to follow the motorcade, and the media, to UCLA Medical as well. With that, hospital security and UCLA Campus Police had a lot of work to do.....

Taylor Masaki replied with a sympathetic voice. I'm sorry, Keith. I'm afraid that I cannot help much. I'll make sure to water the flowers on your grave.

Pah. I will make sure the flowers die of frost. Now, get over here, because I am sure you want to see your brother as a Jedi-sicle.

Oh, yes. Keith was sure that Taylor, at least would find it amusing.

OOC: ND, this post should've occurred before Keith even left the hospital, but CW wasn't on at the time and I wanted to git moving...

"Oh, shit. They are here." Keith sensed the arrival of the Masakis in the Force, and knew he needed to get to the hospital, now, with lawyer in tow. "Fortunately, screw LA traffic. I can teleport to the hospital, for I know its exact location. And you..." Keith extended his hand for a handshake... "just need to shake my hand."

"Oh, shit. They are here." Keith sensed the arrival of the Masakis in the Force, and knew he needed to get to the hospital, now, with lawyer in tow. "Fortunately, screw LA traffic. I can teleport to the hospital, for I know its exact location. And you..." Keith extended his hand for a handshake... "just need to shake my hand."

Tommy shrugged, and shook Keith's hand. He was about to tell Keith that he could delay the trial, but something told him he would be in for a world of difference.....

Oh, yes, Keith could sense Tommy's nervousness. As he shook Tommy's hand, he concentrated on finding the UCLA Medical Center lobby through the Force, possible with that much precision really only because he had walked through said lobby on the way out of the hospital in the first place. Unfortunately for Tommy, Keith's concentration meant that his hand squeezed just a bit tighter, but that was somewhat involuntary. If it *was* voluntary, Tommy's hand would have known it.

*pop!* The two of them vanished in a puff of smoke. Colonel Allaire instantly recognized the UCLA Medical Center lobby, and saw the Masakis entering the building, but Tommy might be a little disoriented at first. And, yes, he now realized that the Wayne Gretzsky jersey might have been a mistake. Leave it up to the Dornalians to corrupt the meaning of hockey...

Meanwhile, young John Masaki was ever-curious about what happened to Daniel, but he didn't really like all the attention the Masakis were getting. Why couldn't they be treated like a normal, working-class family? Sometimes he hated being adopted royalty. Outwardly, the kid acted nice enough, though very shy.

Oh, yes, Keith could sense Tommy's nervousness. As he shook Tommy's hand, he concentrated on finding the UCLA Medical Center lobby through the Force, possible with that much precision really only because he had walked through said lobby on the way out of the hospital in the first place. Unfortunately for Tommy, Keith's concentration meant that his hand squeezed just a bit tighter, but that was somewhat involuntary. If it *was* voluntary, Tommy's hand would have known it.

*pop!* The two of them vanished in a puff of smoke. Colonel Allaire instantly recognized the UCLA Medical Center lobby, and saw the Masakis entering the building, but Tommy might be a little disoriented at first. And, yes, he now realized that the Wayne Gretzsky jersey might have been a mistake. Leave it up to the Dornalians to corrupt the meaning of hockey...

Meanwhile, young John Masaki was ever-curious about what happened to Daniel, but he didn't really like all the attention the Masakis were getting. Why couldn't they be treated like a normal, working-class family? Sometimes he hated being adopted royalty. Outwardly, the kid acted nice enough, though very shy.

Tommy couldn't help but notice the line of Campus Police and LAPD keeping back the crush of reporters. Men in riot gear barking, "GET THE FUCK BACK!" and "You'll go in when we say you can!" held nightsticks and riot shields and the odd shotgun, as the reporters, the crush of curious onlookers just eager to figure out what the fuss was about and the fanatical fangirls of the Oendan stepped back somewhat. Newsvans were parked out front. Tommy could only count them, saying as he shook his head and felt for his .357 Magnum revolver, "Shit....KTLA 5, Channel 7, NDBC News....a buncha weeaboos from the Onedan....Oh shit. Chess Headman's here."

Turning to Keith as he led him away from the windows, he could only say, "Something tells me you angered a whole lotta people. I'm gonna have a helluva case on my hands...."

Oh, yes. Keith sensed the uproar was over the fact that he had put Daniel Masaki in the hospital. "Good Grief! If Daniel was actually here, they would trample him to death while trying to kill me with torches and pitchforks!"

Oh, yes. Keith sensed the uproar was over the fact that he had put Daniel Masaki in the hospital. "Good Grief! If Daniel was actually here, they would trample him to death while trying to kill me with torches and pitchforks!"

He then said, shaking his head in dismay, "Yup. This is about the Masaki Family, which probably just came to town, and their famous relative, which is currently in this facility now. Told you this wasn't going to be easy." Pointing to the squad of whiteshirted fangirls with stylized depictions of the Masakis on their shirts, Tommy let out a sigh and said, "Those damn weeaboos are proof of that. I never got the Onedan. They're his 'cheering section,' for some reason. Buncha lonely fangirls fluttering from one object of teenage affection to the next, I say. Guess they have a thing for slim, handsome Japanese men with powers. Of course, I'm Korean, we don't need to pretty up our men to be successful....."

Nodding, the Dornalians rushed the Masakis to UCLA Medical as quickly as possible, not eager to hold up what was a very needed consultation/visit/legal matter. Driving in the midst of LA's notorious traffic, the limo and the LAPD police escorts used their full powers to get everybody to the side, pulling into UCLA Medical's parking lot and getting the family into the hospital.

Of course, LAPD may have kept it simple and businesslike. And so was Patel, with a simple 45 degree bow and a, "Your Highness, I am Dr. Sanjay Patel, specialist here at the Burn and Cold Injury Ward. I am overseeing your husband's treatment. Please, follow me" to Katrina and company, before leading her into the Burn and Cold Injury Ward to meet with the Woodian doctors, brushing off the Board of Directors and their fruit baskets. Patel glared at the suits saying simply, "Excuse me gentlemen, we have business to attend to."

But, as it turned out, the media got wind of this, and a cloud of reporters soon began to descend upon UCLA Medical Center. And as this occurred, the "Masaki Ōendan," the portmanteau of the Coredian leader's last name and the Japanese word for "Cheering section" used to derisively refer to the odd fanbase surrounding the family, began to turn out in force. After all, it wasn't hard to spot a Masaki. And as it was, a squad of screaming fangirls belonging to the Oendan began to follow the motorcade, and the media, to UCLA Medical as well. With that, hospital security and UCLA Campus Police had a lot of work to do.....
"Great. The fans are out in force." Taylor groused.

"Almost as bad as the ones back home." Jacob agreed.

Katrina chose not to listen to the brothers and headed straight for Dr. Patel. "How bad is he?"

As for Riley Masaki, well, here's a little bit of information about her. She's the younger daughter of Daniel and Katrina Masaki, about five years younger than her brother. So far, she hasn't any skills other than what the standard Academy students have, but her family hopes she'll discover her power soon. She has her mom's hair and her dad's eyes. A firey personality like her mom, but tempered by moments that echo her father's calming moods. A quality combination of Daniel and Katrina, that's for sure!

"Great. The fans are out in force." Taylor groused.

"Almost as bad as the ones back home." Jacob agreed.

Katrina chose not to listen to the brothers and headed straight for Dr. Patel. "How bad is he?"

As for Riley Masaki, well, here's a little bit of information about her. She's the younger daughter of Daniel and Katrina Masaki, about five years younger than her brother. So far, she hasn't any skills other than what the standard Academy students have, but her family hopes she'll discover her power soon. She has her mom's hair and her dad's eyes. A firey personality like her mom, but tempered by moments that echo her father's calming moods.

Patel then explained simply, ignoring the grumblings of the others, "Your Highness, your husband is in very critical condition. We have him stabilized in a cryochamber, it is fortunate he came here. He has extensive cold injuries internally and externally. He has numerous broken bones, especially around the ribs, his arms--that's a compound fracture--and extensive shrapnel damage, possibly involving rocks. Scans indicate he is in a trancelike state--perhaps something he did before losing conciousness, a Jedi healing trance, to limit the potential damages. We're working with Dr. Deimos and Dr. Kavanowskii to create cryobacta to facilitate healing; once he's healed up, we can safely perform surgery; I've a man on call for that, Dr. O'Connell. Best surgeon I know. But until he spends at least a week in there....he's spending a week in there."

"I see." Katrina nodded. "So where's the one who did this to him?"

"I see." Katrina nodded. "So where's the one who did this to him?"

Patel then looked about and said, "Excuse me. I have a hunch, but I might know a potential suspect." Walking out, he looked around the waiting room. Spotting a nurse, he then said, "Excuse me! Nurse!" With that, the Nurse came closer, and asked, "Yes, Doctor Patel?"

Doctor Patel asked frantically, "Did you by any chance see a fellow with military dress on? Desert camouflage? Slightly stained? Largish fellow, like in those Ultimate Fights on TV?" The nurse nodded no, and no to the first bits, but upon hearing the last one, she perked up. The nurse then said, "I did see a big guy, though not in bloody BDUs, out in the hallway next to the Waiting Room. He was in a LA Kings jersey. And he had some Chinese guy with him or something. They were nervous about the crowds outside."

Doctor Patel then said, "Thank you," and then peered out into the hallway she specified. Sure enough, the "big guy" was there, and Patel recognized him as the one who came on the Medevac shuttle. He then walked to Katriina and said, "The one you're looking for is outside the Waiting Room, in a little hallway nearby with some windows facing the parking lot. Looks like he brought a suit with him."

"I see. Excuse me." Katrina said, fuming. She headed for the waiting room and before Taylor or anyone else could stop her, she focused... "Kuchiyose!"

A dangerous flytrap, jaws agape, rushed out of a poof of smoke at Keith, intending on giving him a nasty bite on the nose...

Keith rolled his eyes. Poor flytrap.

Everyone in the room noticed the temperature drop very sharply as the Colonel dodged its bite, intent on neutralizing the threat that Katrina had spawned, not to mention sending the Masaki-witch a message. Oh, yes. Keith concentrated on forming ice (may include dry ice as well) crystals to shove between the flytrap's cell walls, preferably to use as little molecular knives to cut them straight open. Visibly, Keith's defense would look like the plant frosting over, and quickly.

Not to mention that the Colonel's own breath made an excellent source of dry ice...and even allowed him to concentrate on only a small portion of the area, leaving actual patients with an atmospheric temperature that was still at least a little above freezing.

"Someone needs to cool down. And it is not me." Keith rolled his eyes at Katrina, projecting a surprising degree of calm.

Katrina watched as the plant failed to hurt Keith and was cut into pieces. She sighed heavily and retracted her claws, so to speak. She needed to spare her other plants, after all. "Tell me what happened."

"I was minding my own business, rock-climbing a couple hundred kilometers north of Bergal, Somalia, when your husband decided to show up for no apparent reason. I go around his position to scale the cliff, and he, too, goes to the top. Then he tells me I have five minutes to shove him off the cliff, and orders me to begin. He probably meant for it to be a Jedi Trial."

Keith then began the spiel over how Daniel got his injuries, recited nearly verbatim from what he had told his lawyer earlier. "So I chill things as quickly as I can to reduce the efficiency of his abilities. Meanwhile, I flash-carved a spear out of rock to keep him away from me, to prevent him from zapping me with static. Daniel attacked with kunai, but I deflected those attacks and started driving him back with my stone spear."

"Daniel got out his lightsaber when he was close to the edge, and I had to respond by using mine. I nearly knocked him off the cliff in the first minute, but he Force-jumped over me. You have to bear in mind that the whole time, I am trying to keep him from using electricity, because I had a very real sense I could get fried at any moment if I let my guard down. After he jumped over me, I started heating his lightsaber to force him to drop it, and he started zapping electrical attacks, but I evaded them as it was cold enough to make him inefficient enough for me to anticipate them and get out of the way."

"I succeed in disabling his lightsaber, and turn my lightsabers off, going back to my spear to drive him off the mesa once again. He starts charging up a big electrical attack, and I have to react quickly. As I have had the temperature dropping the entire duel, I figured that the quickest counter was a blast of liquefied atmosphere. It hits him just as his lightning attack is ready, his lightning misfires, he goes over the cliff and to UCLA...""

Tommy's eyes widened at the display of Force powers in the room. Jaw dropping first at the near-magical summoning of a diabolical Venus Flytrap, then watching as Keith froze it like it was nothing, Tommy knew he was dealing with some unique people.

"Well....I thought dealing with the Noodle Case was bad," he could only mumble to himself. All of his sum legal knowledge was about to be put to use dealing with people who commanded powers beyond his ken. He had heard the reports, read the books, seen the documentaries...but he'd be damned. This was some big shit.

Stepping forward with some trepidation after Keith finished his story, he then said, "And that's all she wrote, folks. Sorry if I'm interrupting."

Turning to Katrina Masaki and bowing, he then extended his hand, saying, "The name's Thomas Park, esquire, of Park, DiSorinno, Alvarez and Associates. I'm representing Colonel Allaire against any potential criminal charges that might be filed in this affair." As he did with Keith, he sized Katrina up. A strong willed woman, a crusader, someone who wasn't going to take much shit. And Japanese. He had faced her type before, but with the Force...this was going to be different.

"I was minding my own business, rock-climbing a couple hundred kilometers north of Bergal, Somalia, when your husband decided to show up for no apparent reason. I go around his position to scale the cliff, and he, too, goes to the top. Then he tells me I have five minutes to shove him off the cliff, and orders me to begin. He probably meant for it to be a Jedi Trial."

Keith then began the spiel over how Daniel got his injuries, recited nearly verbatim from what he had told his lawyer earlier. "So I chill things as quickly as I can to reduce the efficiency of his abilities. Meanwhile, I flash-carved a spear out of rock to keep him away from me, to prevent him from zapping me with static. Daniel attacked with kunai, but I deflected those attacks and started driving him back with my stone spear."

"Daniel got out his lightsaber when he was close to the edge, and I had to respond by using mine. I nearly knocked him off the cliff in the first minute, but he Force-jumped over me. You have to bear in mind that the whole time, I am trying to keep him from using electricity, because I had a very real sense I could get fried at any moment if I let my guard down. After he jumped over me, I started heating his lightsaber to force him to drop it, and he started zapping electrical attacks, but I evaded them as it was cold enough to make him inefficient enough for me to anticipate them and get out of the way."

"I succeed in disabling his lightsaber, and turn my lightsabers off, going back to my spear to drive him off the mesa once again. He starts charging up a big electrical attack, and I have to react quickly. As I have had the temperature dropping the entire duel, I figured that the quickest counter was a blast of liquefied atmosphere. It hits him just as his lightning attack is ready, his lightning misfires, he goes over the cliff and to UCLA...""
Katrina sighed. "Sounds like Daniel all right. He has a tendency to duel those he thinks is worthy of being shocked. Guess he underestimated you."

"As I did. Poor Venus!"

Katrina then took Tommy's hand. "Thanks for coming. I'm not sure I would press charges at this time. There's little precedent for the aftermath of a duel to be litigated, as it's generally the Council or other high-ranking Jedi officials who would resolve any dispute stemming from said duel. Still, I'm going to wait til Daniel defrosts and corroborates the story."

Another fact about Katrina: besides her being a former Dragonrider, a deadly gardener, and the Empress Consort, she's also a well-known lawyer herself and occasionally practices when a client needs it. Though she specializes in supernatural law, she dabbles in civil and criminal cases at times.

"Mom, is that the guy who got Daddy all frozen up?" Little Riley asked, pointing accusingly at Keith.

"They were just dueling. You know how men are."

"Oh. Ok..." Riley took the answer in stride.

Taylor sauntered over to Keith. "I saw your handiwork. Using liquid nitrogen like that...I hadn't thought of that. How'd you do it?"

Keith nodded. "I heard that," he said in response to Katrina's muffled musing about the fate of the flytrap. He figured it was best to shut up and let Teh Lawyers talk now. At least Katrina had calmed down a bit.

But it figured, Taylor Masaki had gotten curious. Oh yes, leave curiosity about new Shiny Force Techniques to a Masaki, and see how long it is before they try to pry it out of you. "I am not so sure that teaching a Masaki new tricks is the best of ideas," Keith replied with a faint smile. Short stuff.

Katrina then took Tommy's hand. "Thanks for coming. I'm not sure I would press charges at this time. There's little precedent for the aftermath of a duel to be litigated, as it's generally the Council or other high-ranking Jedi officials who would resolve any dispute stemming from said duel. Still, I'm going to wait til Daniel defrosts and corroborates the story."

Another fact about Katrina: besides her being a former Dragonrider, a deadly gardener, and the Empress Consort, she's also a well-known lawyer herself and occasionally practices when a client needs it. Though she specializes in supernatural law, she dabbles in civil and criminal cases at times.


Tommy nodded, acknowledging the Jedi tradition. With a grin, he simply replied, "But of course, Your Highness. That's perfectly acceptable for me. Besides, the Colonel spoke with me earlier, and asked that any sort of conflict resolution involving legal authorities should wait until the paitent in question awakes from his unfortunate slumber." Tommy was fully aware of Katrina's legal record; having read a few court dockets of her's during a class on Legal Systems of Force Using Societies at UC-Berkeley. Of course, that's also where he learned about that little piece of law known as the National Law....

...which he mentioned to Katrina. "Of course, the problem is that some person ignorant of that tradition--which is fully protected by Article 1 of the Workers Bill of Rights Religious Freedom Clause--may choose to stick their nose in the situation and initiate charges of assault against the Colonel. See, unlike in Coredia, some Congressman in the People's Congress promulgated the National Law Concerning the Conduct of Psykers and Forceusers, and got it passed. Basically, it lets Jedi and others of the like practice their traditions in the Workers State, but with some stipulations. The most relevant one is the Excessive Force Clause, which permits Jedi duels but punishes 'excessive force' with the penalties for assault and battery."

Turning to the window and pointing to the squad of psycho fangirls now waving shojo-style icons of their favorite leader, he sighed and said, "So in other words, I'm not worried about you pressing charges, your highness. I'm worried about what they'll do. Not to mention what the lawmen of the Los Angeles Police Department--who thankfully and unfortunately for us are more rational--might do when they hear about a potential Excessive Force case; they might dismiss it, they might not. All in all, this is New Dornalian soil."

"I read about that clause. Still, trying to prove a case of excessive force against one of the most powerful and experienced Jedi in the galaxy..." Katrina shook her head. "I don't think you'll be having a hard time for the defense."

"Part of me hopes New Dornalia does not do jury trials," Keith replied. He pointed out a window to the angry mobs protesting outside. "THEY would make up the jury pool."

"Part of me hopes New Dornalia does not do jury trials," Keith replied. He pointed out a window to the angry mobs protesting outside. "THEY would make up the jury pool."

Tommy shook his head, saying, "Sadly, MacIntyre brought back jury trials. Apparently, part of forming the True Dictatorship of the Proletariat involves giving the people the right to speedy, fair, and untainted trials. Works fine for most circumstances." Looking outside, he sighed as he said, "But for this....voir dire is going to be hell. Serious hell. Good thing jurors have to be impartial, eh? Don't worry, I'll get on the judge's case if any of those fucks get in."

Tommy then turned to Katrina and replied, "Those madmen aside, I can definetly make a good argument that this doesn't constitute excessive force. I mean jeez. Everybody knows Daniel Masaki isn't just some kid; it's fairly obivious."

As they talked, a Chinese fellow, in jeans, a t-shirt, gray jacket and dusty shoes drove his Triumph Motorcycle into the parking lot of UCLA Medical. He witnessed the crowds outside, and then shuddered. This would not be easy to get through, the man back in Mogadishu General and the TV pics were right....

He parked the Motorcycle, and then wandered into the crowd. Approaching the Oendan, he confronted a girl with a shojo-style picture of Daniel on her tshirt, poorly silkscreened on, and then the Chinese man said, "Excuse me. Can you tell me what is going on?" The girl went, in a Valley Girl accent to stick like glue: "Like, oh my God. The Masakis just went in there, and its like, somebody's in the hospital! The hospital authorities are so not telling us what's going on. And that makes me angry! What if Daniel-sama's in there?! Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod!!!!!" She then swooned, muttering, "Kawaii desu!!!!!"

The Chinese man giggled, thanking God he was a sensible fellow who was devoted to more stable pleasures. Like fighting for justice, and drinking tequila with soda water. Which tasted pretty good. He then waved his hand in front of the girl, and said, "Can you let me through?" The girl then stared at him blankly, and said, "Sure, I can let you through." The Chinese man smiled, and then walked through the crowd. He loved the Jedi Mind Trick, and it showed, as he used it to get through the crowd and the police barricade, and the receptionist.

After all that, the Chinese fellow went to the Burn and Cold Injury Ward, and then spotted Keith. He then walked up to Keith from behind, and tapped him on the shoulder with a simple, "Hello, Colonel."

Keith would probably recognize it as none other than Chin.....

"Umm. Hello, Chin. I would very much like to introduce you to Katrina Masaki, Taylor Masaki, Jacob Masaki..." he was not sure what Katrina's daughter's name was, but plucked it from somewhere in the Force... "Riley Masaki, and..."

Watsen or Masaki? he asked seven-year-old John, adopted son of Taylor, telepathically. Keith knew that John could be incredibly temperamental about which last name to use, given that he came from a culture that had had large numbers of orphans before, and thus had adopted a certain flexibility for such orphans between using patronymic and adopted last names.

Masaki. His adopted family had not shamed or embarrassed him too much recently.

"...and John Masaki. Oh, yes. In addition, it might be helpful to know my lawyer, Tommy Park." Colonel Allaire gestured towards his attorney, suppressing a shudder. He had not told Tommy about events in Somalia preceding Daniel's arrival, having thought that CP down there had taken care of that...

"...and John Masaki. Oh, yes. In addition, it might be helpful to know my lawyer, Tommy Park." Colonel Allaire gestured towards his attorney, suppressing a shudder. He had not told Tommy about events in Somalia preceding Daniel's arrival, having thought that CP down there had taken care of that...

Chin smiled and said, "Colonel, you seem to have a knack for trouble....why the lawyer?" At that, Park walked up and said to Chin, "Mr. Chin, I am Thomas Park, esquire. I represent the Colonel in the eventuality charges are filed against him by the State."

At that, Chin frowned. "I don't see why a Jedi duel would need the intervention of the State." At that, Tommy said, "Well, son, Masaki-dono and the Colonel certainly think there are no grounds for the excessive force clause of the National Law. Madame has even chosen to drop charges. But, there might be some out there who feel it is needed, and as always, LAPD would like to know how a fellow got into the hospital."

Chin sighed. The National Law was regarded by Acolytes as a bother; something the politicos dreamed up to ease the public's fear of "Force users run amok." He then said, "I see. So even though the Colonel is not in danger from the family, the State will endanger him anyway?" To that, Tommy said, "It's a bitch, but it's okay. I've got a plan; I'm gonna make a motion to delay proceedings until our paitent is fully healed and able to self-advocate."

To that, Chin then said, "I guess that works. But that crowd is nasty....they will not like this." Turning to the Colonel, he then said, with his head shaking, "And those fangirls will want blood." Tommy merely stated, "You think? That's very obvious...."

Chin then returned to a somewhat cheery self. Extending his hand out, he calmly shook the hands of the Masakis, going, "Pleased to meet you all, I am Chin Tai-Wong, Comrade 3rd Class People's Acolytes." He then removed his lightsaber and showed the logo of the Acolytes on the bottom, as proof that he wasn't just some asshole who wandered in, before holstering it. "I prefer dual Colt Government pistols myself."

As this occurred, the cryobacta was ready, and Patel then informed the Woodian doctors they were ready.