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The Roof of the MCA, Friday Morning

He needed to leave.

That was the compulsion that had been thrumming through him ever since he answered to a name, back when words like 'Kanan' and 'Caleb' had still meant something to him. And that compulsion had remained, even while all of his other memories had faded. He had fought it. He'd fought it hard, let himself be guided by the Force and it had helped him to hold on to who he was for as long as he could.

But not even Kanan's connection with the Force had been able to save him, and as Kanan slipped away, something else formed in his stead. Blind, though he could see. Quiet, though he was desperate. Peace, yet...

He walked in almost drifting, wraith-like movements around the place where his ship stood, the Expedient having been replaced with the Escape long ago, and the Escape having seen better days. A once black lustre had been beaten away to the silver-grey that lurked under the paint, and one wing had been removed entirely, lightsaber scars still visible where it sat severed, on the apartment roof.

He had to get away, but no ship could take him from this place.

[OOC: ... Had to get this guy out. Was procrastinating because icons. SCREW IT. Open for SP during my work day (I miss being able to say that).]

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It wasn't that Kanan was actually trying to leave the island.

Don't look at him that way. It wasn't. He was just making his way up to the roof in the hopes that the Expedient was still there, because he knew there was no way in hell he'd be able to take it far, but at the very least he'd be able to use it to get other people safely across town to the one place that did seem to be void of that feeling that had the Force and him in very real agreement, something bad was happening here.

And if the park wasn't going to work out, hell, maybe he could give 'up and over' whatever had them stranded here a try? It was a long shot. If he could get out by going up, somebody would likely have tried it by now. But hey, nobody could blame him for thinking it.

Never let it be said that the creature on the roof didn't come by that compulsion to leave honestly.

The snap, hiss of an igniting lightsaber was immediate as Kanan stepped onto the roof. The creature knew that he wasn't alone, and while he wouldn't attack outright unless he was approached more overtly, there was always that need to announce his presence, to make his intentions known. It didn't matter who was there, didn't matter if they had interest in him at all.

He was there, Kanan. And he saw you.

Don't you dare touch his ship.

Kanan froze dead in his tracks at that sound. It was a sound he hadn't heard in entirely too long, since the last time he'd ignited his own saber, but it screamed at him, screamed of familiarity and a life that he hadn't entirely decided to embrace again for himself.

He looked at the figure through the fog, at the blue glow of the lightsaber in the... the thing's hand. At the mask on its face. At the ship that sat just beyond it, not the one he'd been expecting, but one that was more his than anything except his own lightsaber had ever been. The Escape, the first ship he'd flown as Kanan Jarrus, was sitting in ruin just out of his reach. And the creature that was guarding it...

He stepped out of the stairwell into the roof, and stared up at the phantom Jedi that had gone shock still, looking at him intently from the other side of the face that was that much more a mask. He looked down from there, took in the design of the saber hilt being clutched in the creature's hand. And he swallowed.

"So, that's yours, huh?"

The creature stiffened as Kanan's feet touched the roof, his head tilted as he took in the way the tiny thing's attention was on his ship His Ship His Ship and the saber lifted, to point directly at him.

A warning.

All the warning that he'd get.

The Escape was his.

Nobody touched his ship.

Nobody got to leave if he didn't.

"Right," Kanan breathed, holding his ground more out of stubbornness than out of any pressing need to actually get to a ship that couldn't possibly fly. "Your lightsaber. Your ship. I'll just-- I'll take the long way around. There are other ships. You just stay right there, and I'll--"

He took a slow, careful step sideways.

The reaction was immediate, and violent, and there was no way Kanan could have seen it coming. Not when it was coming from himself, not when the attack that came his way wasn't anything that he could dodge or deflect. A wave of nothing at all swept toward him from a hand that lifted into the air, sending Kanan flying off the roof's edge and careening toward the ground.

Shouldn't have looked at his ship, small thing.

Kanan fell. He fell a bit like a cat, granted, attempting to twist himself around in midair so that at the very least he wouldn't land on his karking head at the bottom, but he still fell. His hands reached out desperately along the way, fingers trying to grab at the ruined brick siding, at the windowsills, at anything, and mostly what he accomplished in the process was a very thorough skinning of several fingertips and the palm of his left hand.

And then he landed on the cobblestones below, the attack and the fall and an unceremonious landing on his tailbone that would have made any better-trained Jedi just shake his head at him all leaving him a bit out of sorts, and just sort of... stayed there for a bit.

Okay. So.

That was a thing, then.

Give him a few minutes, and he'd make his way up to his apartment to collect his dog, his lightsaber, and his holocron, and then he'd walk to the park. He wasn't staying in this building a moment longer than he needed to.

"Kanan!" Peter was just making his way out of the apartment when he saw him crash down.

He'd been inside the previous day - first working on his magic, then trying to figure out what it was telling him about what was going on. Now he had a sword on his back and was venturing out.

He offered Kanan a hand up, looking him over. "You okay?"

"Been better," Kanan muttered, teaching for the offered hand with the one that wasn't currently bloodied up and stinging. And here he was without his emergency bacta patches. Which, you know. Were in his ship. "Word of advice? Don't get thrown off rooftops. Doesn't feel great."

He'd be doing much worse if he wasn't a Jedi, so, there was that.

"I'll keep it in mind." He helped Kanan up. "Though it's not so bad when you can fly. Who threw you off?" He looked up, fully prepared to go fight...whoever or whatever it was.

"Didn't see his face," Kanan replied tersely. And that was... true. From a certain point of view. "But he's not following now."

He pulled in a deep breath, wobbling a little where he stood, and then glanced back at the building.

"I need to get my dog," and a few other things, "and get away from this place."

Peter frowned, but nodded. "I'll help. Then I can scout ahead. There's bad magic all around, but there's a place out that way," he waved toward the park, "that's got some heavy wards on it. Might be safe."

Kanan was silent for a moment it two before nodding his agreement.

"It's safe," he confirmed. "Safest place on the island. That's the way we want to head."

Just take his word for that one, Peter.

Edited 2016-12-09 16:17 (UTC)

"Good." If both their senses were telling them that, it might even be true. "Should we go get your dog, then? And probably anything else you want."

"Just the dog and a few trinkets," Kanan replied, giving a terse smile. "There's nothing edible in that apartment, though I might be able to scavenge some clothing, but I don't want to spend more time in there than absolutely necessary."

He looked down at his bloodied hand and grimaced.

"Maybe I left some bacta in there."

Probably not.

"Sorry," Peter said. "I haven't figured out healing yet. I can do a decent field dressing if there's extra cloth, though." He ducked back into the entryway of the building, looking around for danger.

Kanan gave his shoulders a shrug as he made his way inside. Wasn't the first time he'd been injured. Wasn't exactly likely to be the last. And it could have been far, far worse.

"I'll take the field dressing," he replied. "Hell, I'd settle for getting some of the gravel out of there."

It had been a fun trip down.

"Anything you need while we're in here?"

Peter shook his head. "Found my old sword on the wall; not even sure how it got there." He'd given it to Kuromaku over a millennium ago. "It's not like I need food or anything."

"And I can live on whatever I scrounge up. The dog is more picky than I am."

Because Stance was a Lisa Frank drug trip and he had standards. It was bad enough dog kibble didn't have 'rainbow ice cream' as an ingredient, here.

"I feel like I should be beating down doors, seeing if there's anyone else in here who needs an escort, but..." He shuddered. "I can't be here. Not any longer than I have to be."

Selfish, maybe. Cowardly, definitely. But there was a monster on the roof who was basically him, minus everything that made him who he was. And he wasn't ready to face whoever that person had become again.

"I checked the basements and first floor already," Peter said. "I can check the others while you get what you need. Don't worry; I won't be long."

He shifted into mist and poured himself up the stairwell, drifting as fast as he could.

"Don't see that every day," Kanan muttered, staring after the mist, then shaking his head in bemusement. There was a whining sound coming from upstairs. Stance could hear him, knew something was the matter.

So Kanan wasn't about to waste any more time standing around and feeling uncomfortable.

He had a dog to get. And a lightsaber. And a holocron. He broke into a run for the stairs.

Peter started at the top floor, staying mist to keep out of sight of whatever it was that had spooked Kanan so badly. As he worked his way down, a noise behind a broken door caught his attention. He shifted back to himself and approached warily. "Hello? Anybody there?"

You know, there actually was? Though whatever the noise behind the door was, it had gone eerily silent a moment later, with the exception of the high static buzz of electricity running through wire.

Peter winced, the buzz going through his head. "Hello?" He pulled his sword out and inched closer, shoving the door open carefully on its one hinge.

The thing on the other side of the door was waiting for him, lean and flickering all over with the electricity that was the source of that noise. He smiled, his mouth parting, tongue lolling out, and even that was crackling with power all over.

He made a sound that was a laugh, a buzz of energy, something high and lunatic.

And then Reno lunged forward toward Peter, with... well. Lightning speed.

Funny, that.

Shit! Peter dove to one side, wincing as the lightning singed his side. He whipped his sword around, slicing at the thing.

A sword! Reno was familiar with swords. He couldn't tell you how, but he had plenty of experience with being on this end of them, and his reflexes were inhuman to match his speed. He veered to the side, clearing the room in what wasn't even a blink and avoiding the blade entirely.

Then he lunged again.

Peter blinked into mist, letting the strike pass through him, then reforming on the other side, sword already in motion for a stab through the creature's back.

Oh. Well. That wasn't what was supposed to happen at all. The thing that Reno was chasing was supposed to stay put, so that he could cook them inside and out and call it a day. But this thing was there and then not there, and while he continued forward without so much as slowing down, now there was pain.

Reno didn't care for pain. But if there was a sword through him...

Well, swords conducted electricity, Peter. Very well, in fact.

They did. Fortunately, wooden handles didn't. Which didn't mean some of it didn't jump to him, but he was spared the majority of it, just getting a bad jolt.

He hissed, winced, and darted for the nearest door, buying himself a few seconds, then reached deep and shifted again, his entire body becoming lead.

Huh. Shiny. Were you sure becoming metal was going to help you with the whole electrocution thing, there, Peteyboy? Because Reno didn't generally care about shiny things, but hey, his reflection in that lead meant he had an excellent view of some of his favorite subject matter.

So, here he came again. You know. For a better look.

Some people needed to pay attention in chemistry class. But if this...thing...didn't know that lead was a really poor conductor, Peter wasn't going to enlighten it.

Instead, he lengthened his fingers to spikes and lunged again, aiming for its chest.

Hm... shiny metal or not, the prey-creature was doing that 'being pointy' thing again. Reno didn't much care for that, so he sidestepped again, standing at Peter's side in all of an instant.

He tilted his head at the shiny thing, a gesture that was almost feline in its simplicity.

Really now, some people just shouldn't be allowed to play with sharp toys, zzzzzoto.

Peter snapped his elbow back, sharpening it to ram through the thing's side and bringing his other arm around for a swing at its head.

Nope, sorry. Reno's reflexes before he'd gone hollow would have made him difficult to hit. He'd been the fastest of the Turks, and on top of that, Ghanima had taught him a trick or two about speed.

You'd caught him from behind once, Peter, but that wasn't likely to happen a second time, and now you were practically moving in slow motion.

Reno looked at him coolly from across the room, directly in front of him. And then he lunged at him from behind, with electric currents running through him, sure, but also with all the force that a man going his speed had going for him.

Peter blinked away into mist again; he was fast, but if he couldn't get any hits in, fast wouldn't help. He billowed down the hall, thinking. If he could maybe trick the thing into a fall...

He flowed up between the elevator doors and shifted back, shoving them open, then shifted his density but not appearance, stepping back onto nothing and waiting.

And Reno followed.

To a point.

When the prey-thing re-formed, became solid again, he was so, so close to being able to reach out and grab at him. But there was something about where he'd re-formed that didn't sit well with Reno. He was there in an instant, standing on one side of the open door, with the prey thing on the other.

But he simply stood there.

There was no way in hell he was crossing that threshold. He wasn't even attempting to reach his way inside.

Well, that was interesting. "Scared?" Peter taunted. He readied a bit of magic and lashed out with a blast.

Reno let loose a crackling hiss and sidestepped that, too. That part was easy. Even if the wall behind him was done in by the blast, he avoided it easily.

But that elevator? Nope. Not having any of it.

Well, that was interesting. Peter reached out with his magic, grabbed the wall behind the thing, and pulled. Chunks came out, plaster and a door, and rushed toward him as he did his best to knock the thing into the shaft with him.

Did you really want Reno to be in the shaft with you, Peter? Really?

Reno really didn't want to be in the shaft with you, at least, and once the wall came careening into him, dragging him in as well, he went wild. The entire corridor filled with sparks and howling, buzzing fury, the whole thing alight with electricity as he ran straight up the walls and back down again, trying to find a way out, filling the shaft with a furious inferno of power.

It wasn't really a weakness so much as an aversion that had stuck with him since life, but apparently it was one hell of an aversion.

Well, Peter could think of more pleasant things, but if it helped get rid of this thing...

He pulled one last time with his magic and let go, sending the plaster and wood crashing into the shaft as he changed once more to mist. He was out of the shaft in a split second, throwing up a barrier to keep the thing in as he worked the doors closed.

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The Roof of the MCA, Friday Morning

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