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The verdant blade swung in wide slashes, nicking one assailant, then parting another, cleaving him at the knees so he toppled and fell forward in the middle of his attack.
Master Tajin didn't let the stench of blood or the pained screams stop him, methodically, purposefully, pushing the mob of them back with his blade, steering them all for the inner chamber of the facility, the heart of the complex.
Outwardly, to an untrained eye, he seemed fully in control, saber moving swift and true, elegant in its deadly precision.
If those who knew him could see him... if Dan could see him...
The boy would assuredly pick up on the severe pinch in Tajin's mouth, the anxious way his eyes worried, wrinkling with distress. The static pulse of his fear reverberating through the Force, managed, but turbulent under the surface.
But the last he'd had contact with his padawan, Dan was facing a situation very similar to this one.
-SWV-
"Master!" the boy called through the comlink, distressed and panicked. "I've been ambushed!"
Tajin halted his steps, stiffening, a spike of worry piercing through him. "Where are you?" he asked urgently, feeling along the line of their training bond and sensing danger danger DANGER all around his padawan.
"I checked out the bar, as you instructed," the boy told him, and Tajin could hear his lightsaber flaring, blocking the pew! of blaster shots. "But when I went through the back alley to look through the wastebins I was jumped! There's so many of them!" he cried, and Tajin's heart almost stopped at the fear in his mentee's voice. "I can't hold out!"
"I'm coming, Dan," he promised, stowing his comlink and hastening to hail down a public speeder and clamber in, directing the driver to the underground levels with all haste.
-SWV-
Hours of frantic searching and questioning had led him here, to the den of a cruel Coruscanti Underworld spice boss. Tajin hadn't bothered with pleasantries at the door, sensing his padawan inside and unleashing controlled hell on the thugs and jackboots blocking his way in.
But, alas, it seemed he faced the same situation as his missing apprentice.
Surrounded on all sides, too many opponents, simply not able to endure.
Tajin let loose a Force Push to buy himself some breathing space and panted hard from the exertion, chest and shoulders shuddering, trembles moving through his frame from his outstretched palm.
Belatedly, he raised his blade against a vibro pike, feeling the electric jolts tingling on his blade, vaguely pressuring on his hands.
He shoved the hefty Chagrian aside, but couldn't prevent the quick jab of the staff to his ribs.
"Hgnnh!" he grunted, feeling the pike's sharp tip digging into his side, the sharp electric buzz seizing his nerves.
As if sensing his weakness like firaxan sharks to a fresh kill, the gangmembers closed in, leveling blow after blow now, relentless and overwhelming.
Tajin felt his connection to the Force withering as he was overcome by his increasing exhaustion.
A punch cracked hard against the side of his head and the fight was over. Dazed, Tajin felt hands grasping his arms, hauling him forward. His lightsaber still hung in his right hand but no one tried to take it from him, not until they'd pulled him through a set of wide double doors after a long hallway on the other side of the room.
Then he was flung down on his knees in front of an imposing wooden desk, lightsaber tossed haphazardly down on top of it.
The Houk sitting behind the desk sneered down with beady amber eyes, almost dwarfed in the folds of his massive face.
"Well, this must be the Master." His large shoulders rolled a little forward as he leaned timbered arms across his desk, folding ring-crusted hands. "Come for your little apprentice, I imagine? Hmm?" His Basic was heavily accented, and even across the distance Tajin could smell the stench of raw sewage on his breath.
Fighting just to regain his own, Tajin didn't let himself be riled by the remark. "You're playing a dangerous game," he just warned, voice calm despite his panting.
"Am I?" challenged the Houk, eyes flashing. The chair beneath him creaked as he rose to his full, impressive height. Tajin felt the floor shake under him as the man stalked around his desk, displaying his fine custom-tailored silk suit—the criminal boss had done very well for himself, apparently. "Seems like you two are the ones playing with the Rhydonium nitrate here," he countered, "sneaking around my back alleys. Poking your Jedi noses into things that aren't your business."
Tajin bit back a comment about how the disappearance of a little Twi'lek girl—one of the children on the List, a Force Sensitive—and her mother's frantic pleas to the Jedi Council on the secure line were definitely their business. He focused on keeping calm, even as the Houk's shadow blocked the overhead light, the man towering over him.
"You wanna see what we do to your kind around these parts?" the crime boss asked, contempt and loathing dripping from every syllable.
He barked something in his own language, making a sharp gesture.
A holoscreen behind the desk flickered to life, showing the feed from a camera elsewhere inside the compound. Tajin's blood chilled at the sight of his padawan, sitting surrounded by thugs in a chair in the center of a stark room. Harsh light spotlighted him; cables wrapped around his wrists and ankles, pinning them to the arms and legs of the chair. He was already bleeding from the forehead, and as Tajin watched the recording one of the thugs slammed a thick fist into his padawan's temple, snapping aside the boy's head.
Dan grunted and flinched up in the chair, but no accompanying flare of pain in the Force followed along their bond. This must have happened before he'd gotten there.
Tajin squeezed his eyes closed and bowed his head, sending out a silent apology.
Abruptly, his head was seized, meaty fingers pinching around his neck, in his hair. A short cry left him as he was forced to look back up.
"Ohhh no," the Houk sneered. "You're gonna watch every... last... second of this. Teach you lot a lesson about messing with the Underworld."
He angled Tajin's head back, pulling at his scalp, his painful steel grip threatening to crush the human's skull. Tajin grimaced but made himself look straight ahead at the screen, only letting the edge of his vision pass over his lightsaber on the Houk's desk, making note of where it lay.
He watched the recording with sick unease and grief.
Dan was pummeled, over and over, not a single being in the room pulling their punches, each blow cracking with horrible thunder. The boy held his tongue bravely as he was punched, slapped, kicked, spat on at a couple points, only letting out small yelps at particularly brutal hits. His too-thin, too-small body jerked about in the chair as the beatdown dragged on and on.
His face was a bruised, bloody mess when it was over.
Whispers of anger curled around Tajin's ears, but he breathed in carefully, repeating to himself over and over There is no passion, there is serenity to keep himself calm. Still, his heart rent with every terrible blow that landed on his young padawan.
He was almost numb when the recording finished and blipped off.
Seemingly disappointed by Tajin's lack of reaction, the Houk dropped him, leaning back and kicking him square in the back.
Tajin caught himself on his palms but his face still knocked against the floor harshly, bouncing, sending pain shooting through his skull.
"Force freaks," the Houk muttered. "Can't even break properly. Worse than droids."
Inhaling slowly, Tajin lifted his head and checked the chrono on the wall and his periphery senses with the Force.
"You should take cover," he commented dryly.
"What?" The Houk turned towards him, perplexed.
From the front of the compound there came a sudden thunderous CRASH! As the Houk and his henchmen jerked eyes about in bewilderment, Tajin staggered up and called the lightsaber to his hand, already moving to push past the mooks to the door.
Ten minutes. That was what the local Underworld Police precinct captain had promised him, in exchange for Tajin's very helpful information about this particular gang's base of operations. Ten minutes to fight his way through, find his padawan, and get out, before the heavy armor team breached the door and started shooting everything inside.
The sound of blasterfire was already loud down the hallway and Tajin took advantage of the confusion to find the side door out of the office. He heard the Houk roar in outrage behind him as he realized what was happening, and the next moment huge chunks of wood splinters flew past him, the crime boss having picked up his own desk and hurled it full force after the Jedi.
Tajin felt pieces shred through his robe, scrape his side, but he didn't stop running further into the compound, looking with his senses for the familiar life pulse of his padawan.
-SWV-
Dan had been floating somewhere between awareness and unconsciousness for some time now, his head still ringing from the—likely—concussion he'd sustained after multiple deliberate blows to his face, but the faint sound of blasterfire in the distance stirred him.
Blinking in confusion, it took a while for him to parse his situation. He'd been stuck in a cell, it looked like, laid out on his side on the floor, hands and ankles in binders. He could feel the dried, crusted blood caking his forehead and mouth and his body ached in multiple places, face swelling, limbs bruised, sharp pains in his chest.
He slowly started clearing the fog out of his mind. Blasterfire inside the compound could mean either rescue or danger. In either case, he couldn't stay put. The missing little girl was there; he'd seen her as he was being dragged in, huddled in the corner of another cell, quivering and frightened. He had to try to get her out.
Dan took careful stock of his injuries. Fractures to his ribs and clavicle, possibly to his cheekbone. But his arms and legs weren't broken. So he was at least ambulatory, if he could get out of the binders.
Deciding upon that as his course of action, Dan braced himself and then began curling his legs tighter, scraping them along the ground as he tried to angle his ankles within reach.
Pain rang out through every limb, his body protesting shrilly, as soon as he moved.
Dan clenched his eyes, willing himself courage through the pain. He shifted position, arching his back, stretching with his hands. His fingers fumbled as they touched his heels and the metal loops of the binders, his shoulders strained. There was a particular trick to releasing these. If he could just get his feet in the right...
His fingers pinched the center release mechanism and with a bit of Force-assisted prodding, the latch snapped free with a click!
Dan exhaled in relief as the binders popped off his ankles and he could stop arching his back, relaxing, releasing the tension. He rested for a moment or two, screwing his face at the reverberations of pain moving through him. He leaned into the Force, opening his mind, letting its warm presence settle over him like a supernatural anesthetic, cooling the alarms of pain inside him.
Carefully, he rolled and pushed himself into an upright seated position, his body moving awkwardly, stiff and uncomfortable. He curled his legs again, the other way this time, bending them towards his chest. His fractured ribs knifed at the motion and Dan held in a pained gasp, pressing his teeth and lips together, lifting his bottom just enough to pass his hands underneath.
He squashed himself even smaller, whimpering a little at the jagged pain in his side. Ankles, then toes, and this time he did gasp as he managed to wrestle his bound hands past his feet, so they were now in front of him.
Tingling with the small victory—and the not-so-small shrieking pain burning through him—Dan brought the binders up to his face and used his teeth to bite down on the joint.
His jaw clenched tighter until he was rewarded with another click!, the binders dropping loosely into his lap.
He needed another minute before he moved again, bent over, breathing hard, letting the sharp vibrations in his body fade into a blunt ache.
One hand touched his ribs, the other braced against the floor, he held his side as he staggered shakily upright, gaining his feet. He blinked away the sudden dizziness furiously—he couldn't afford to pass out again—and straightened, examining the door and the room beyond. There was a single remaining guard, a Besalisk, staring anxiously down the other hall towards the sound of blasterfire and combat.
Dan spied his lightsaber on the far side of the room, tossed in with a pile of credits and chips—the gang members had been betting for possession of it. Steeling himself, he stepped up to the bars and reached through, stretching out a hand towards it.
The Force is my ally, he recited inside his head. I am one with the Force.
Warmth filled him, and his saber clattered only a moment before flying to his hand.
The blue blade sprung to life, slicing cleanly through the bars and then one of the Besalisk's hands as the guard whirled around and lunged at him; Dan dodged to the side in an adrenaline-and-Force-fueled burst, splaying one hand to push back his opponent.
The Besalisk crashed into the table and Dan didn't stay to see if he would stay down. His teeth rattled and he panted hard through the sharp discomfort, clutching his side as he ran.
-SWV-
It was easy enough to retrieve the girl, a gentle smile and a reassuring mind touch through the Force were all she needed to cling tightly to Dan's middle. With his injuries, he couldn't pick her up, but he held on tightly to her hand as he led her towards the outside.
There was a familiar presence tugging at him. Relieved and exhilarated, Dan followed the feeling, letting the Force guide him until he rounded a corner and spotted Tajin leaning wearily on the wall.
"Master!" he called. Grinning, he closed the distance. "I thought I felt your presence!" he quipped.
Tajin's expression was strained as he pushed off the wall, his gait unsteady, and Dan noticed his master's side was soaked with blood through his robes before the older man unexpectedly swept him up in a hug.
Ashwood and teak filtered in through his nose, the soft warmth of the man's Jedi robes all around him. The little girl squeaked a bit as she was squished between them. Dan's eyes widened, innocently bewildered, until he read the worry and relief and guilt in his master through their bond, and realized how much distress the man was in.
"It should have been me," Tajin was whispering, the words soft in Dan's dark hair. "I should have sent you to the apartment and investigated the bar myself. You shouldn't have had to..."
He trailed off, his voice clogging.
Softening with concern, Dan pried his arm from his side and tried to return the embrace, flinching when his hand brushed his master's bloodied clothes.
"You're injured," he said, an edge of alarm in his voice. "We need to get out of here quickly, before the guards return," he urged, nonetheless wrapping his arm around Tajin's left shoulder to reassure him.
"I'm sorry," Tajin said, voice trembling.
Dan was touched, but also chagrined, as his master's embrace was tightening more than was comfortable with his injuries. "Master," he called, forcefully pushing back, breaking the hug. "It's all right. You could not have known what would happen." He projected reassurance through their bond. I'm all right, I will heal, this is not your fault, this is not your fault.
Tajin took a shuddered breath and, after a long moment, composed himself.
"You're right," he acknowledged. "We need to finish the mission."
Dan smiled and held up the little girl's hand in his, as she shied into his side. "Luckily I just did that."
Tajin double-took and then let out a short laugh. "So you did," he chuckled, leaning down to the little Twi'lek's level. "It's all right now, little one. We're going to get you out of here."
She frowned skeptically, and Dan couldn't blame her, the both of them must have looked a mess, battered, bruised and bloodied. Dan's adrenaline burst was starting to wear thin, and Tajin heaved as he straightened.
Without needing to speak, both Jedi wrapped arms around each other's shoulders, supporting each other. Tajin was trying not to put too much weight on him, Dan noticed, but his master was still heavy as he leaned on him, his exhaustion showing.
"There's a medical clinic about one block up," Tajin told him, as they shuffled quickly on stumbling feet for the nearest door. "Can you make it there?"
Dan felt like he wanted to collapse on the steps as they pushed through the thick metal service door, almost startling an Underworld cop before he recognized their Jedi robes and relaxed. But he delved deeper into the Force for strength.
"I can if you can," he told Tajin.
The three of them—the injured master and padawan, reunited from their ordeal, and the youngling they had come to save, clinging to them like a lifeline—haltingly made it past the perimeter as the compound was swept and cleared behind them.