#doc jarf

Months had passed since he’d been swiped away while on yet another suicide mission. Of course things couldn’t have gone according to plan. Instead of being dead, he was simply horridly inconvenienced. Hopefully, Hanrael was daft enough to assume he’d just finally croaked, and wasn’t in the middle of ten to twenty search parties spread out through the galaxy. She would. She’d do it for any person in the Coalition. But most especially for him. Well. He didn’t want them to find him. He wanted to get the fuck back home.

The alarms had started to go off last night. Now, it was reaching nearly the fourteenth hour since Jarf had broken loose of his electric shackles, and was on the loose amok the Vengeance. Lucky for him, and miserably pitiful for the Vengeance, there were no other chuas left on the ship. Here, they were considered fodder, and had been disposed of as such. So that left Jarf with prime opportunity to fit in spaces that practically the rest of this moons-forsaken crew couldn’t dream of squeezing into. It was back to air vents for him, just like old times back on Bezgelor.

Armed with a pistol he’d grabbed off a rather stupid guard, Jarf kept low as he scuttled through the vents that made their paths through the corridor ceiling. So far there were six dead, thirteen unconscious, and about four different settings in the control room all but decimated. There was no possible way that the ship or any of its escape pods could detect their own cloaking systems, or even one another at all. But that would only last for a few more hours while the technicians struggled to repair the trashed control panels.

It took him another hour and a half to find the escape pods. He had to be quick about this.

The entrance to the pod chamber was guarded by a Cassian and a Draken, both of whom were less than pleased to have a vent gate dropped on their heads, followed by an entire and very miffed chua. Snarling low, he scrabbled and clung to the Draken’s shoulders, grabbing her by the horns and yanking then around hard enough that an ill series of cracks broke out of her neck.

As the Draken collapsed, a ringing screech pelted the air and Jarf hissed against the sudden burning pain in his back. But he turned and lunged for the Cassian man’s middle, clawing through his coat and tearing his teeth into his stomach.

With a breaking cry the man stumbled back against the wall, his shoulder hitting the lever to open the chamber’s doorway. Jarf shoved his pistol into the cavity he’d torn into the man’s gut, and pulled the trigger. He didn’t stay to watch the gore and glory that ensued.

Instead he pushed himself up and stormed into the room, tugging on the lever to close the door and slamming his fist on the Lock button.

There were enough pods to accommodate the entire crew, four seats per pod, and there were at least twenty pods. He went down the line, punching the buttons outside each one-- save for one in the middle of the row-- to release them into the vast abyss. Who decided to have eject buttons on the outside of them? An idiot, probably.

The door behind Jarf hissed.

Before he could turn around to shoot whoever the fuck was rude enough to interrupt his escape, he was sent covulsing to his hands and knees, the collar around his throat lighting up with a violent buzz.

“I was hoping I would be able to find you,” Grevarion purred from where he stood in the doorway, remote control in one hand and a magi-powered harpoon in the other. “I wanted to watch you squirm on the floor one last time before I killed you for good.” He strode over to Jarf, his steps agile and carefully chosen. His upper lip curled away from his teeth as he spat out, “Rin.”

Jarf had heard quite enough of Grevarion’s spiel. And he had had quite enough of being electrocuted. Straining against the spasms, he raised his pistol up and fired at the captain. But his hand, shaky as it was, shot the blast eskew, and it struck the wall far to Grevarion’s left.

The Cassian snorted. “Oh that’s just heartbreaking. And here I thought you were determined to kill me!” His amused grin faded. “My turn.”

The harpoon was pointed at Jarf, and with a growl, Grevarion pulled its trigger. A blinding blue light emanated from the blade, and a spearhead of magic shot out of it. The blade of magic tore through Jarf’s right leg before he could leap out of the way, shattering the limb to pieces. He was, as usual, grateful that he hadn’t implemented more complex tactile feeling into the damn things.

He kept his balance on his remaining leg, his tail poised to take up the now empty space where his right leg had been. Placing both hands on the pistol grip, he fired a shot of bright yellow energy at Grevarion.

The shot pierced into his shoulder and he growled aloud. “Wretched vermin!” he spat, aiming a shot with his harpoon once more.

Jarf barely managed to duck out of the way this time, but lost his balance in doing so and collided with the hard metal floor with a loud grunt. Grevarion watched him with a blank stare. “This is just sad, Rin. You used to be so vicious. Remember how you took out my brother’s eyes? Your fire’s burning out, you poor thing.”

Normally, Jarf would have torn the bastard’s ribcage out through his nose for such a statement. But the accuracy in those words hit him harder than he’d ever admit: he was tired, he was broken, and moons, he was burnt out. His eyes dragged across the floor, brow knit low over them as he tried to rekindle that fire.

But it was on its last embers.

Grevarion stormed up to Jarf, throwing aside his harpoon, and hefted him up by the jawline. “I was hoping that I’d be satisfied with having you as a prisoner,” he hissed. “Perhaps having you as a corpse will be more gratifying.”

Gagging, Jarf struggled against the other’s strangling hand as he was shoved up against the wall. But there was only so much that one, de-clawed foot could do, and he was finding it exceptionally hard to claw through Grevarion’s armoured coat.

“I wonder,” Grevarion breathed, “if your life even made a difference out in the universe.”

Oh.

That was the line.

With a flare of hatred in his eyes and a tremendous roar, Jarf shoved his shock collar up close against Grevarion’s hand, and kicked at the remote control in his free hand.

Click. Bzzzzzz.

The both of them crumpled to the floor in a mess of spasms. Jarf fought against the muscle convulsions and pain to wriggle his way away from his captor. By the time he was able to push himself up to his foot and tail, Grevarion was still stuck on the floor shuddering.

“I’ve made a better d-difference than you ‘ave, bitch,” Jarf retorted as he opened the remaining escape pod’s door and let himself drop right on inside. The door shut behind him with a hiss, followed by a click.

Minutes later, when Grevarion was finally managing to rise to a sitting position, the last escape pod was zipping away with its invisibility barrier quickly rising up.