Alema Rar Meets a Jedi Hunter
Rating: PG

Bethany Handcuff

Author's notes: The following story takes place during the Yuuzhan Vong war.

Remember, please leave me feedback, Ahandcuffgirl(at)yahoo(dot)com

“That's right, I've killed two of those kriffing Jedi, and I aim to keep killing them until they're all dead!” the large, heavily-tattooed human boasted from his seat at the middle of the bar.

Alema Rar smiled up at him. The first half of his statement was a definitely a lie. He hadn't killed any Jedi—at least not personally. And she was going to make sure he never got started on the last half of his fierfek boasting.

The cantina they were in was less then half-full, only about fifty beings or so. Alema Rar had planned on a quiet evening of drinking with some of her commando buddies, it was Private Ellisop's birthday, but after they had barely started, this sleemo had come in and started talking about everything being the Jedi's fault, and killing them all.

While she was willing to ignore that, she couldn't ignore the fact that he was disturbing Derec's birthday celebration.

“Wow, really?” Alema Rar answered in awestruck tones.

“Damn straight,” he replied succinctly.

The powerfully-built man obviously believed she was going to sleep with him. Alema Rar certainly gave him every impression that she was going to as well.

“Wow, aren't those Jedi dangerous though?” Alema Rar asked with mock concern for his well being.

He chuckled, then replied, “Not as dangerous as me, baby,” as he pulled her closer to him.

She turned her head back towards her table, and winked at her six buddies surreptitiously watching her.

“You gonna use that blaster?” She asked vapebait as she pointed towards the heavy-duty blaster strapped to his thigh.

“Damn straight!” he repeated, then took another swallow of his lum-ale.

An idea formed in her mind. “Can I see it?” she asked eagerly. She was confident of his answer. Men were always looking to make sexy girls like her happy.

“Sure thing, babe,” he replied with a smile as he unholstered his blaster. “You sure you know how to handle this thing?” he asked her, keeping a firm grip on the blaster.

“Of course, my big sexy Jedi killer,” she cooed back at him.

He smiled as he passed his blaster to her. Alema Rar smiled even bigger.

As she flirted with him for the next couple of minutes, she quietly slipped the blaster's power-pack out. Then, as she kissed him, she pressed the power drain switch that was used to make sure blasters were completely drained of power for long term storage.

Without that little feature, he could still fire one shot without the power-pack in.

“How do you know what one looks like?” she asked as she held down the power-drain switch.

After another hefty swallow of lum-ale, he answered. “Well, they all wear those brown robes, and wave their lightsabers around all the time.” Then he turned back to face Alema Rar. “But trust me, I'll know it when I see one.”

Alema Rar glanced down at her skin-tight black combat suit. “You sure all of them wear those ugly brown robes?” she asked with mock-derision.

“All of them,” he stated with authority. “It's their religion, or something.”

Alema Rar nodded her head in agreement. “Well, I hope you're careful. I heard they were real dangerous,” she said with mock concern as she slid to a little over arm's length from him.

He laughed again. “Not as dangerous as me, baby,” he repeated.

Alema Rar smiled seductively at him. “You sure about that?” she asked carefully, still handling his now-empty blaster.

Now he frowned slightly. “Damn sure!”

“What about all that sorcery stuff they do? Like move things with their minds and stuff?”

He waved his hand in contempt. “A good blaster-bolt will settle their hash.” Then he held out his hand. “Now, babe, speaking of blasters, pass mine back to me.

Alema Rar smiled as she spun the blaster on her finger. “You sure you can spot a Jedi every time?” she asked him with incredulity.

“Damn straight!” he replied with his apparently limited vocabulary.

Alema Rar set the blaster on the bar. Then looked at him, still smiling. He certainly seemed to believe that he could spot a Jedi. “Are you really sure you can spot a Jedi?” she asked him again.

“Haven't missed one yet,” he replied with a superior smile. Now, pass me my blaster, sweetie. You handle a man's blaster, you might as well be handling his manhood, and we'd need to find some place a little more private for that.”

Alema Rar giggled. “We just might have to find one,” she answered with a flirty wink. Then, still smiling, she reached out with the Force and lifted the blaster a few centimeters off the bar, and floated it, handle first, towards his still outstretched hand.

His eyes went wide with shock. He opened and closed his mouth wordlessly.

Alema Rar stared him straight in his eyes as the blaster reached his hand.

Finally his brain caught up with what was happening. He grabbed the blaster grip and started pulling the trigger. When nothing happened, he looked down at his trusty, Jedi-vaping blaster in betrayal, then pulled the trigger even harder and faster.

Alema Rar, still smiling, reached behind her waist and pulled her lightsaber from its place across the small of her back. Then, in one motion, she activated it and cut his blaster—in half—missing his fingers by millimeters. As the would-be Jedi Killer reached towards his boot, Alema Rar deactivated her lightsaber, and Force-shoved him backwards off his bar stool. He hit the wall a few meters away—hard.

Alema Rar calmly replaced her lightsaber behind her back, then took another swallow of her drink. Next she climbed down off her own bar stool, and strutted over to him while he struggled to maintain consciousness.

“You missed one,” she said as she kicked him in his ribs. He slumped back to the ground, and stayed. Then she turned to face the bar patrons, whose attention she had gained with the glowing lightsaber.

Several seconds of silence went by. One by one they all went back to their drinks. Well, except for her six commando buddies, they all put their blasters back into their holsters.

“Sorry about the mess,” she apologized to the bartender with a smile.

“Hey, no problem,” he replied happily. “As long as I own this place, all Jedi are welcome!” he added with a smile.

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