Normally, she'd spin around, let fly with the Force and nurn the frakking alien down to the dirty ferrocrete. A twist of her fingers, a thought from her mind sent through the Force and the bounty hunter would be charred meat, squished pulp, frozen chunks...oh, the urge to visit any number of these horrors upon Bossk was nearly overwhelming. As she ran, she could feel her fists tighten and her jaw clench at the thought. However, there was two problems that prevented her from doing just that.
For one, the crowds. The streets of Eriadu practically felt like a Coruscant thoroughfare in that people were bunched, hunched and crunched together. Weaving and moving in between these people was difficult enough. Any attack she made would likely result in a great deal of damage all around, something police and troops didn't care for. Secondly, Bossk had a number of things going for him. First of all, he'd managed to stun her; the ache in her legs and the ring in her ears from the initial rocket blast had left some damage.
Could've been worse, she thought wryly as she moved.
And then there was the matter of Bossk himself. He cut a wide berth not only because he was a Trandoshan (a species prone to ripping limbs off out of habit), but because he was freakin' Bossk. Unlike Bossk, Naomi was still disguised in her NR orange flightsuit. While that did turn heads, it didn't plow the crowds the way Bossk's gutteral shouts did. Oh, and there was the matter of the rocket launcher propped on his not-inconsiderably-large shoulder. Every time a pocket opened around her, she'd hear the sharp whuff! of the launcher.
Like now, for instance. She sucked in a breath, yelped and dove right over the heads of a pair of Jawas. There was a far-off sounding crunch and swish of noise, bringing with it the telltale smell of incendiary material, and body parts rained down on her. Bossk had a sort of impunity concerning troops and police; superiors told their lackeys to lay off the bounty hunter. Force knows what kind of secrets he might be holding or when they'd need to employ him next. So he got to do the whole slaughter thing while she was basically screwed.
He growled and snapped, tossed the launcher to the ground.
"GET BACK HERE AND FIGHT ME!!", his gravelly voice bellowed over the mayhem. Naomi crawled, stumbled and finally got to her feet, continuing her mad sprint for the hangar that held her X-Wing. She managed to snatch a comlink from a dazed onlooker--who immediately caught a blaster bolt in the throat as Bossk nearly hit his target--and dialed in her R2's signal. Faint, but doable. She grabbed an Ithorian and threw him behind her, then darted around a corner. From behind her, she could hear the Ithorian give a pleating sound and then Bossk's growl, then a wet sound...
"Get the ship ready!! Power up NOW, I want the frakking cockpit open and I want my lasers charged!", she snapped. There was a confused warble on the other end, static making the reply even more unreadable, and Naomi practically screamed into the unit. "RUN him over then, I don't care about the port guard!!!" She threw the comlink down an alley as she sprinted down a seperate road.
Bossk rounded the corner in time to hear a droid squeal come from an alley. He raced down it.
When Naomi got to the hangar, there was a patch of black, smoking substance against one wall and it smelled horribly of ozone. She raised a brow and looked over at her X-Wing, hovering in place on repulsors. "Did...did you...?", she shook her head and vaulted onto a stepladder before throwing herself into the craft. "Never mind! Set a course for home! I...gotta tell Rani what happened...". She slapped her helmet on, grabbed her flightstick and nimbly lifted the craft through the overhead bay door.
Her fuel gauge told her she'd have just enough to make Ziost's orbit. Sithspit, she cursed, slamming a fist down on the readouts as the cockpit closed. Far behind her, the spaceport was a frenzy of activity; ships hurriedly leaving, rising out of panic that the authorities would begin doing searches. She punched through the atmosphere--not even bothering to give the Port Authority a snide remark--and headed for open space. As her ship flared into pseudomotion, a lone craft plunged after her.
It was the Hound's Tooth.




