It was indeed a bloodbath. But thankfully, it wasn't their blood that was painting the floor and parts of the walls surrounding them.

Thankfully, Ayman's blabber earlier had more substance to it. Though he was aided by his sister who did as much damage to the imperial guard as him, if not more; some kind of personal vendetta against the red haired woman.

The guard summoned another energy field but instead of blasting it towards one of the Aly'rians, she protected herself from the onslaught of fists and jabs. The shield flickered and spasmed with every punch against its surface. The guard snarled at the pair, her lips twisting, revealing her bloodied pink teeth.

“This all you have?” Ayman taunted her.

“I'll kill you. I'll burn the heart out of you.” The guard hissed.

“Big words for someone hiding under their special blanket.” Ayman grinned.

The guard took a deep breath. She closed her eyes, concentrating, and upon opening them, the shield expanded in a blink of a second, sending everyone against the wall.

Mirah, Ayman's sister, glared at him from where she was half kneeling on the floor. “You had to open your mouth.”

Ayman groaned. He glanced at where Yahya and Jomaira were hiding behind the corner of the hall. He sent a grin their way and stood on his feet, straightening his jacket.

“Part of my plan.” He boasted, though the wince marring his face said otherwise.

Yahya rolled his eyes.

The guard readied herself for another energy blast, but Mirah was faster. She launched herself towards her and decked the guard in her jaw and punched her in the stomach. But as she lifted her fisted hand high to punch her again, the guard took hold of her arm and grinned.

The guard reached towards Mirah's chest. She poked her with her finger, but it was enough to send the rebel against the wall in a loud crush, a rebel sized dent forming in the wall, shaking the whole building to its core.

Yahya steadied himself, his eyes searching worriedly for the rebel amongst the rubble. If this kept up, they would all be buried under stories high of concrete. Maybe that was what the guard was aiming for, as she landed her hits against the rebels not caring if she missed. Each hit creating a dent into the already damaged structure.

Yahya bit his lower lip. He glanced at Jomaira next to him. “Should we help?” He asked. “Or just…bail?” He added as she frowned at the battlefield in front of them.

He quite preferred the second option.

She turned to him, her mouth opened, ready to speak, then froze. She took hold of Yahya's hand and dragged him forward, towards the fight.

“What?” Yahya stumbled. “You're gonna get us killed!” He protested. “Wai−” His words got cut off as an electric whip lashed against the wall, right where his head was a second ago. Yahya gulped at the burnt gash it left in its wake.

“Well, well, well. The rats finally decided to leave their sewer and join us,” a mechanical enhanced voice said.

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The man had paper white skin like those Yahya saw in apocalyptic shows where a virus had rendered the planet's inhabitants into walking growling half dead. His nose was encased into a breathing device, extending to his mouth. His eyes were like those of a dead fish. A black long coat thrown over his imperial guard armor.

“We…We're not terrorists,” Yahya stuttered, taking a step in front of Jomaira, taking care not to let her touch his palms. He didn't want to add to her fear with fear of his own.

The man tsked. “They all say the same thing.” Then grinned.

What was with imperial guards and creepy smiles, really.

He took a step towards them and readied his whip to slash at them again.

Yahya closed his eyes. There was no way out. Whatever exit they thought they had had long vanished once the new guard joined the party. They were sandwiched between the rebels' and the woman guard's fight and the new guard. Whatever they did, they were as good as dead.

But when the sting of a hit didn't register itself on his hunched body, and a grunt of pain masculine and definitely not coming from him sounded a few feet in front of him, Yahya slowly and cautiously opened one eye.

Ayman, the thankfully failed case of a terrorist, was in front of him and Jomaira, his metallic hand holding a sizzling whip in a dead grip.

“You okay kid?” Ayman winked.

Yahya was so relieved he could cry. He nodded, his lips quivering. The self proclaimed rebel was quickly growing on him. He almost felt bad for wanting to bail on him. Almost.

Behind them, the woman guard struck the crumbling wall, sending it to the ground with a sea of dust. She stepped over a large broken wall section, and in one swift and elegant jump, joined her comrade.

“You're late,” she hissed.

“Wasn't expecting your call,” the new guard said, uncaring about the state of his fellow guard, nor of the anger directed towards him.

“Those are the rats you failed to apprehend?”

“I would like to see you do better.” She spat a mouthful of blood mixed saliva and bared her pink colored teeth at him.

Great work environment. Would totally recommend it. Yahya wondered how the guard's order was still standing if their members were this spiteful to each other.

“The Pen?” the guard inquired.

“They have it.” She tilted her head toward Ayman.

Mirah glared at him, a curse twisting her lips.

“What? Where did you want me to leave it? In the ship without protection?” He shrugged.

Yahya wanted to pull his hair. Why was this pen so important?

Electricity shot from the whip, but instead of shocking Ayman, it got absorbed by his hand.

Ayman grinned. “Thanks, man. It has been some time since I last charged it.”

The man ignored him, his whip sizzling and crackling with lightning.

It was then it dawned on Yahya. The man intended to overcharge Ayman's mechanic hand. But before he could warn him, a low whir emanated from the appendage, then, in a pitiful shower of sparks, it short circuited.

Ayman cursed. His hand fell to his side, useless.

The only way for them to get even a slight chance of survival, was to get into close range fight, Yahya noted. They had no chance against an energy field, and a trigger happy whip wielding maniac.

The man held his hand up, and as if things couldn't get worse, all the metallic parts in the hallway trembled and groaned, then slowly floated up in the air.

Yahya gawked.

Great.

A small pen detached itself from Ayman's inside pocket and floated up towards the guard. Ayman kicked it away. It landed right next to Yahya's feet. Yahya didn't know why the small pen was important, all he knew, he couldn't let the imperial guard get hold of it. Without another thought, Yahya snatched it from the ground.

A clicking sound emanated from it, followed by a low hum. Then the whole hallway exploded into light before it all dimmed into the deepest of black with pinpoint lights floating around.

It was a map.