[center] [b] [color=000000] [h1] Jezariyah Khez [/h1] [/color] 
[/b] [/center]

The grime splattered streets of level 3030 whizzed past as Jezariyah Khez sprinted with all the speed she could muster, her muscular legs beating firmly beneath her. In ordinary circumstances, Bounty Hunting was less disintegrating and more waiting behind dumpsters,  for those who weren't gunslinging Mandalorians, but today was the farthest thing from ordinary. 

Jezy checked the flickering blue digits on her holobraclet. 

[b] 12 minutes [/b]

[i] Shit. [/i] 

Already out of breath, Jezariyah conjured up what little energy she had left, bolting through narrow alleyways, and vaulting over garbage and debris, as the thunderous thumping in her ears beat in time with her heart. 

[i] Don’t we know better than to get involved in gang business? [/i] She scolded herself inwardly [i] You mean like when we knew better than to eat three Bantha burgers in one sitting? [/i] 

She could see the warehouse, sprouting out of the ground like some grubby brick wound as she rushed towards it. Broken windows, rusted supports, roof practically caved in on itself. This was the place. 

And the woman called Eurissa was inside. 

The gears inside Jezariyah’s head began to whirr as she planned her next move. Did she charge in like a Jedi on spice and risk getting cut-up and blown to bits, or did she play it smart? 

Her thermal detonator blew the door into so much charred metal, clearing the way ahead of her. Jezy burst through the cloud of black smoke which wafted in the air, as chunks of twisted shrapnel clattered to the ground amidst a haze of hissing flames. 

The interior of the warehouse was vast and cavernous, but the bounty hunter was more concerned with the four Pure Hand thugs who were springing to life and charging towards her. 

The S-405 Fusion Sharpshooter came out in one swift flick, as Jezariyah’s hands coiled around the weapons pale metal body. 

[b] CRACK! [/b] 

The rifle barked, and a sizzling red beam lanced forwards, catching one of the skinheads square in the throat, turning flesh to smoldering black tatters in the blink of an eye, as dark blood bubbled in his drooping mouth. 

The hiss of one of the thug’s blasters coiled through the air, glancing narrowly off of Jezariyah’s black shoulder pad. Without the time to look through the scope, the Bounty Hunter squeezed the trigger of her Sharpshooter, a bolt of crimson exploding into his chest, just as Jezariyah hurled herself to the side, lending with a painful thud behind the shaky cover of an old steel pillar. 

The shots of the two remaining lowlifes pinged harmlessly against the trunk-like body of her new hiding place, letting out a sharp ping as the lasers bounced off of metal. 

Thermal detonators aren’t cheap, but melting xenophobes is awfully therapeutic. To Jezy, at least. 

A glistening silver cylinder rolled out from behind cover. 

[b] BANG! [/b] 

By the time the smoke cleared there were two less men working for the Pure Hand Syndicate. 

“Get out from behind there, or the tail-head gets her brains painted across the wall.”

The voice that spoke was deep and majestic, carrying age beyond its years in each booming syllable. 

Jezariyah edged slowly out from behind the pillar, her metal boots clanking against the cold steel floor. 

Eurissa, the Twi'lek girl Jezy had come form, was gagged and bound to an old chair, her sculpted features whimpering and quivering in a wordless cry for help. Standing over her shoulder was a lumpy-faced human with a faded white mop of hair, pressing a blaster with a round nozzle against his captive’s head. 

“That was a waste of good, [i] human [/i], lives,” The thug snarled “What’s some shit-for-brains Twi’lek to you?” He pointed one bony finger accusingly at Jezariyah, gnashing his rotten yellow teeth. 

“Hey!” Jezy snapped, her voice echoing from beneath her helmet “I could be a Twi’lek under here, for all you know!” 

“Are you…?” 

“Well, no,” she admitted “but that was still an arsehole thing to say. Arsehole.” 

“Is this all just a motherfucking game to you?!” The thug barked after a slight pause, spraying fat wads of spittle out in front of him. 

“Yeeeah.” 

The thug twitched, and his gunhand swung towards her in irritation. It was a basic, reflex action, but one which cost him dearly. 

With Eurissa temporarily out of harm’s way, Jezy let her Sharpshooter clatter to the ground, as she tore her own blaster out of its holster, calculating the point of trajectory as the innermost workings of her brain crackled to life. The RX-7 Repeating Blaster Pistol spewed a three-shot volley of putrid green lasers, which ripped straight through the thug’s eye-socket, turning the right side of his face into a gooey dribble of meat and bone. 

Life left the man in a strained gasp, as his stocky form swayed and then crashed to the floor.

Jezariyah strode forwards, unsheathing her Vibromachete in a flash of steel, before slicing straight through Eurissa’s bonds, and yanking out her gag. 

“Th-thank you…” The Twi’lek sobbed, still very much in shock as tears tumbled slowly down her soft blue cheeks.

“Don’t mention it,” Jezariyah said in her most comforting voice “now let's get you home.” 

Eurissa wasn’t going home. She wasn’t even going back to the sickly stained brothel she used to work at. It was the Siren Claw Syndicate who had put the job up, requesting Eurissa’s safe return, but it was the Blackened Stars who’d put up the counter offer for Eurissa’s head, and for a much more generous price. The Twi’lek had slept with the wrong men, and had the wrong kind of pillow talk; the kind which would put the gang's future plans into jeopardy if she were to run her mouth off. The Stars needed Eurissa dead, but they couldn’t risk her blabbing to the xenophobic Pure Hand bruisers in some kind of last ditch grab at freedom. They’d needed someone to bring her to them, unharmed, so they could finish the job themselves. 

That was where Jezariyah had come in.