Youngling clinging to her for dear life, Panya darted down the dark corridor back to the speeder. She turned a corner and stopped dead in her tracks.
An all too familiar figure stood before her, silhouetted by the hellish conflagration marking the path to escape, his pale armor contrasting starkly against the dark stone of the desecrated temple pillars.
Two gleaming lightsabers were now clipped to his belt - the remnants of one, or worse, two fallen Jedi, reduced to idle trophies. A temple guardian, likely their previous owner, lay slain at his feet.
Still partially cloaked by shadows, she slowly retreated back into the corridor, fear gripping mercilessly at her insides. There had to be another way out. Perhaps he hadn’t seen…
“Not so fast!”
The sound of the ill-gotten trophies clacking against armor grew almost deafening before being replaced by the –JOOM- -JOOM- of the sabers activating.
“Run!” she barked, drawing her blaster and turning to face their pursuer while the youngling ducked behind her.
The footsteps stopped abruptly - Overkill stood not three feet from the tip of her blaster, lightsabers posed to strike her down but paused in mid-swing, emitting enough golden light to illuminate their faces. Upon recognizing her features he quickly deactivated them, though Panya kept the blaster trained squarely at his face. The contingency order had corrupted even the most amicable of her clone comrades and Overkill's warped mind was no exception. She knew how easily he could have disarmed her, but to her surprise he made no indication that he intended to do so.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he hissed urgently.
“Neither should you! This isn’t just a coup d'état, it’s genocide!”
Overkill glanced at the youngling, then back at Panya.
“You’d off me just like that, huh? Ouch.”
A resigned crease formed on her brow.
“If it stems the flow of innocent blood in this massacre, I’ll do what I must. Don’t force me. Please.”
Panya’s voice wavered slightly on the final word - out of anger, despair, the sheer injustice of it all and the realization that the clone before her – despite their recent understanding – was still known and feared for delighting in thoughtless carnage and was at that moment probably deliberating whether or not she was prey like an indifferent carnivore.
Undaunted by the blaster aimed at his skull, Overkill’s face was hard to read in the dim light. Footsteps echoed through the corridor once more. A moment more and it wouldn’t matter if he aided them or not. She started to squeeze the trigger.
Cliff hanger, lolz... *is shot*
Another pic and excerpt, folks. Had this scene playing in my head all day, too much work to do so I needed to get it out. These guys need more character development for me to know exactly how I'm going to tackle this whole Order 66 thing, so think of this as a "what if" piece until I make the panels.
Inspirational songs for this pic:
"Black Blade" - Two Steps from Hell
"Run like Hell" - Two Steps from Hell
"To Victory" - Tyler Bates
Lauren Aquilina - King, Edwin McCain - "I Could Not Ask For More"
"Whole" - The Dreaming
OCs Overkill and Panya created by ZetsubouZed. Please do not use without permission, giving credit, and linking back, thanks!
Star Wars (c) George Lucas, Disney, etc., not me.