Star Wars: Eyes of God Chapter 9 - On the Run

Kyle sat at a dented durasteel counter two levels under Za Za Ka. The stool wobbled under him every time he shifted his weight. The whole place smelled like grease and cheap stim-coffee. He waved at the waitress who was wiping a glass with a rag that had probably been used too many times already. She walked over slow, hips moving like she carried a damn star cruiser behind her, her black top stretched tight across tits so big they looked like they would rip them open. Kyle very much hoped that would happen.

"Two nerf Burgers. Two Stim-drinks. Extra ice," Kyle said, while shamelessly leering st her.

She leaned on the counter so her cleavage fell out in front of him. Her hair slipped over her shoulder. "You want it fast, or you want it done right?"

"Both. If it's you serving," Kyle replied.

She laughed like she'd heard it before. Her hand brushed his when she wrote the order down. "Name's Lira. I give my best work to the ones who tip well. That gonna be you?" She walked off toward the kitchen, throwing him a look over her shoulder that made him adjust himself under the counter.

"Damn right I'm going to tip you, though it may not be the tip you're used to getting," Kyle said loud enough that she could hear him. He could hear her chuckle from the next room over. He knew right there and then that he was getting some; a pretty nice reward for all the shit he's dealt with as of late.

A couple ninutes later she came back with the stim-drink and leaned in so far her tits mashed against the metal. "Stick around after my shift. We can go in the back and you can give me that tip you were talking about."

Kyle smirked. "You're making it hard to wait."

"Bathroom's free right now." She bit her lip and tilted her head toward the back. "Though my boss won't be too happy."

"I'm sure he'd understand," Kyle said with a lazy smile. He started to follow her, hand sliding over her ass as she opened the door, but the Force slammed into his gut with a warning that made his stomach churn. He swore under his breath, pulled back, and forced a grin. "Mind if we take a rain check, I've got to eat and run I'm afraid."

She folded her arms under her chest so her tits pushed up higher, looking almost offended that he didn't want to bang her. "What's the rush? You don't want some of this?"

"You're killing me," he muttered, trying to look away, but the door chimed and four men walked in. They wore mismatched armor patched together with whatever they could scavenge. Blasters hung on their hips. Could he bang her before these guys inevitably started attacking? Or would he have to fight with his dick out. 'Shit... god damn it...' Kyle slid back onto his stool and kept his eyes on the counter, but their stares burned into his back. One of them, a man with his head shaved, leaned forward. "Hey, kid. You look familiar. You from around here?"

"Wrong guy. Just passing through, I heard this place has the best food on Coruscant." Kyle tried to sound casual but knew he wasn't pulling it off.

"They definitely don't," one of the other patrons commented before going back to their meal.

The shaved-head smirked, pulled a holopuck from his pocket, and lit it up. Kyle's face flickered above it with a bounty notice. Fifty thousand credits, dead or alive. "Oh, we don't think so, Marek," the man said. "You're worth money." His three buddies stood up and drew their blasters.

Kyle raised his hands. "Alright, but at least don't trash the place. Lira's got enough to clean already without you adding to it."

The bolt came with no warning. Kyle dropped, but not fast enough to avoid the spray of molten durasteel that tore off the edge of the counter. A piece of it punched into his left forearm, melted part of his jacket, and cooked a line of skin underneath. His teeth clenched around the pain, breath caught short, but he didn't stop. He hit the ground, rolled hard under the counter, and came up already forming a chakra rod in his hand. The blasterman who fired was lining up another shot when the rod flew across the room and nailed him just under the chin. It didn't bounce. It pierced through soft tissue, hit the roof of the mouth, drove up through nasal bone, and stuck out the top of his skull by the time he collapsed backward into a booth, twitching violently.

"Bullseye!" Kyle shouted, though he quickly realise, two more were on him before the guys body even finished falling.

One got a fistful of Kyle's jacket while the other swung a shock baton at his ribs. Kyle pivoted into the grabber, slammed his knee up into the man's groin—felt the soft resistance of testicles rupturing inside their sack—and shoved him backward into the baton's arc. The baton struck the testicleless merc square in the shoulder, the jolt locking up his spine, and Kyle capitalized with an open-palm heel strike to the side of his head. The man's temple caved in slightly, his eyes rolled back, and he dropped like meat. The baton-wielder didn't even flinch. He barked something unintelligible and cracked Kyle across the hip with the weapon and managed to brush him just barely. The current surged through muscle and nerve endings, making his leg go numb for a moment as he stumbled sideways.

The merc advanced. Kyle backstepped, summoned another chakra rod and feinted high with it, baiting the swing. When it came, he ducked under it, stepped in close, and jammed the chakra rod into the man's armpit—right where the brachial plexus was. The rod punched into the socket, tore out under the arm, and ripped nerves on its way through. The man dropped the baton and immediately began screaming, clutching the wound like a toddler trying to hold in his own intestines.

Kyle didn't bother watching him bleed. He turned, just in time to duck under a blaster bolt that scorched past his ear and blew apart the wall beside him. "Shit that was loud," he said rubbing his ear.

The shooter advanced, not slowing down, firing again and again, bolts smashing into the walls, the floor, a crate behind Kyle. Kyle rolled forward, closed the distance, grabbed the wrist mid-shot, and twisted. He didn't just disarm he used a small application of almighty push to snap his wrist like a twig. The merc dropped the weapon and screamed, but Kyle didn't let go. He used the broken arm as leverage to spin the man face-first into the nearest booth corner, cracking the bridge of his nose and splitting the top row of teeth open on the table edge. Blood and shattered enamel sprayed across the vinyl, and Kyle finished it by shooting two chakra rods into his spine.

Another grabbed Kyle from behind, his arms around his ribs, trying to drag him off balance. He then drew a knife and lifted it up, intent on stabbing Kyle through the throat.

"Almighty push!" Kyle shouted and the man was thrown from his body, he crashed out the window and hit the floor, groaning in pain as he did.

Kyle tried to relax for a moment but then came the blade.

A vibroknife slashed across Kyle's ribs from behind, cutting clean through cloth and skin, opening a six-inch groove in his side. Blood immediately spilled over his pants. Kyle gasped, bit down on it, turned fast, and caught the blade-hand by the wrist. The merc yanked back, but Kyle held firm, twisted, pulled the man in, and drove a rod straight into the inside of the elbow—through muscle, tendon, vein. The blade dropped from numb fingers. Kyle slammed his forehead into the merc's face. The cartilage cracked. Blood burst from both nostrils.

Someone fired a blaster. Kyle threw up his hand. "Almighty Push." The shockwave crushed tables and flung the shooter across the room. He hit the far wall with a solid, meaty thud and dropped into a pile of broken glass from a shattered display case, coughing blood.

He then turned back to the merc in front of him and then used to force to lift him up before slamming him down on his neck. Kyle was breathing heavily now, he still didn't have a huge chakra reserve, and using so many Rinnegan abilities in quick succession was difficult.

"ILL KILL YOU!!!" The last one came running.

Kyle looked at him with a black expression, the moment he came close enough Kyle kicked up one of the vibroblades that had fallen to the ground and kicked it straight at the man, while using a bit of force to amplify its speed. He was impaled and thrown back several feet before he even got the chance to swing at him. Kyle sighed as he brushed his hair back with his hands looking at the carnage that had befallen the place. The diner looked like it had been bombed. Tables in pieces. Windows gone. Blood everywhere. A man near the kitchen was still twitching. Someone else had vomited. Another had pissed himself.

Lira poked her head out from under the counter, she looked like she was just about to throw up, both from nausea and fear. "You're—you're paying for this, you psycho."

Someone hiding under a booth whispered, "What the fuck is he?" and no one answered.

Kyle grabbed his stim-drink off the bar. His hand was shaking. He drank it in one go, blood smearing the rim, then dropped a stack of credits beside the cup.

"Keep the change."

And he walked out the back, dragging his bleeding arm behind him, all he'd wanted to do was get something to eat. "Man Zarni was going to be pissed..." he said with a sigh. At least he grabbed her some food too though it was covered in blood. He paused at the threshold, took one long breath of that oily, sour, pre-industrial stink, and let it settle in his chest before exhaling slowly through his nose. His fingers were still twitching and his side was still bleeding, and somewhere out there, even more mercs were probably already being handed his photo and told to shoot on sight.

So he did the only reasonable thing he could think of. He made himself scarce.

The stairwell at the end of the alley was unlit and reeked of piss and spilled coolant, and as he descended each step, he could feel the city thinning around him, the noise above falling away while the air got heavier and the floor beneath his boots began to feel sticky in a way that made him not want to think too hard about what it was sticking to. This wasn't the kind of place you went to lie low. This was the kind of place you went when you were already halfway dead and figured you might as well sleep somewhere they didn't have to dispose of the body.

By the time he reached Level 1698, the overhead glowstrips had stopped working completely. One flickered behind a rusted fan grate, pulsing like it was trying to blink out Morse code. The hallway smelled like mildew, rot, and a whole lot of people pretending they weren't dying. The hotel sign was a plastic sheet nailed to the wall, spray-painted with the word "ROOMS" in fading blue letters, and next to it sat a man behind a desk who had either passed out or died from the needle still sticking out of his arm. Kyle gave him a polite nod anyway, then pushed down the hallway, passing a cracked food synthesiser that looked like it had been robbed and pissed in, possibly in that order.

Room 38 was missing its handle, the door itself hanging loose off one hinge like it had been kicked in. Kyle gave it a push with his boot and stepped inside, expecting a bombed-out mess, and was not disappointed. The wallpaper was peeling in wet strips that looked like infected skin. The carpet was stained in ways that suggested both murder and childbirth had taken place here within a twenty-four hour window. A single couch sat in the middle of the room like it had been lifted from a landfill and trained to absorb fluids instead of comfort.

Zarni was sitting on it, legs crossed, elbows on her knees, eyes following him without moving anything else. She didn't say a word. Didn't even blink. Kyle gave her his best attempt at a friendly smile, though it probably looked more like a bleeding grimace. "Hey. Don't give me that look."

She said nothing. Tilted her head the other way.

"I come bearing gifts," he added, lifting a grease-stained burger bag that had a smear of someone's blood on the bottom. "One nerf burger. Still warm. Probably."

Her stare did not change.

He lowered the bag with a sigh and collapsed into the nearest chair, which groaned under his weight like it resented being used. "Okay, look. I know things are a little tense right now, but good news. I have a plan."

That got her to blink and look at him, but not in the hopeful way. More in the "what bullshit are you about to say" way.

She finally spoke. "What's the plan?"

Kyle scratched the back of his head, trying to hide how quickly his confidence was unraveling. "It's a work in progress," he admitted, eyes darting to the floor, "but once I finish it, it's gonna be amazing. Trust me. It's just, you know... it's gonna be great."

Zarni stood up without a word, walked across the room, and slapped him. Not hard enough to knock him over, but hard enough to snap his head sideways and make his mouth sting.

"Okay," Kyle said, raising a hand. "Fair."

She slapped him again.

"That one felt a little personal."

And again.

"Seriously, we're past three, there's gotta be a legal limit."

"You ruined my apartment!" she snapped, finally speaking with actual emotion, which in Zarni's case meant mild homicide.

"Technically that was the explosion," Kyle said, ducking another slap.

"You got me fired!"

"From a place where you got paid in tips and the occasional sexual harassment."

"You dragged me into a conspiracy with a stupid gang!"

"I mean, that isn't entirely my fault."

She slapped him again, and he shoved her hand away, standing up so they were nose to nose, both of them flailing for a second as they devolved into what could only be described as a slap-fight between two, emotionally damaged adults who had absolutely no idea how to process their feelings in a healthy way.

Kyle finally threw his arms up in surrender and stumbled back toward the couch. "Okay, truce. We're even. Call it."

Zarni glared but relented, arms crossing as she backed off.

Kyle sat down, rubbed his face, and exhaled slowly. "Look. I get it. You're pissed. The Blood Oracle burned me. You got caught in the crossfire. But let's be real, they would've betrayed you eventually even if I hadn't shown up."

"I know," she muttered, staring at the floor.

Kyle paused. "Wait. What?"

"I said I know," she repeated. "It wasn't your fault. But you're the closest object I can physically take out my frustrations on."

Kyle nodded slowly. "I respect that."

She sat again, crossed her legs which gave Kyle a slight peak of the inside of her squirt. Though she quickly crossed them before he saw anything good.

He leaned forward, grin creeping back. "You know, there are... other ways to get that frustration out."

He put his arms on each side of the bed, and moved it closer to her face. His intentions clear as he puckered his lips. She pressed her palm flat against his forehead and shoved. "Nice try, slick. Maybe when I'm not still pissed at you."

Kyle flopped back against the couch and stared at the ceiling getting blue balled for the second time that day.

Zarni turned to face him fully. "Alright. What's the plan. And if it involves anything exploding, we're done."

Kyle stood like he was about to unveil a masterstroke of military strategy. "Step one," he said, pointing dramatically. "We find out where the boss is hiding."

She stared.

"Then we go in."

She blinked.

"And we kill him."

Zarni stared at him, completely deadpan. "I'm going to bed."

Kyle looked around. "Come on. It'll work. Trust me. I'm a Jedi. None of these idiots can beat me."

"Oh yeah? Mr Jedi?" she said, already pulling off her boots. "Where's your lightsaber?"

Kyle winced and put a hand over his chest like he'd just been shot. "That's... too soon, Zarni."

She rolled her eyes and turned away, climbing onto the sagging bed, only to pause mid-motion when the pillow shifted.

She froze.

A rat the size of a forearm slithered out from beneath the fabric like it had just finished a nap and wanted to see who was intruding. Zarni screamed, sprang out of bed like it was on fire, and pointed furiously.

"Kyle! Kill it! Kill it now!"

"Relax," Kyle said, stepping forward and lifting one hand. He closed his fingers, and with a tug of the Force, the rat was pulled into the air, its legs flailing as it floated over to him.

He caught it gently and looked at it, its little nose twitching, beady eyes unblinking.

Then his expression shifted.

Eyes narrowed. Brows raised. Mouth slowly curling into a grin that looked way too excited for someone holding a sewer rat.

"Oh," he said, barely above a whisper. "That's a good plan."

(AN: So what does Kyle have up his sleeve and will he be able to handle the various mercs and people all coming to kill him. Without his lightsaber? Probably I mean the Rinnegan is pretty OP and he is only getting stronger with it. Anyway hope you enjoyed.)