Faux spun half-around from the force of the hit, and stumbled lightheadedly over the uneven ground. She checked her lip for blood with a filthy sleeve, then yelled spitefully, "Since when does Mandalore hit like a girl?"
The padawan nearly fell over she was so stunned from the blow, but that didn't cause her to lose any of the fire in her eyes. She held out her hand and a fallen blaster rifle was instantly summoned to her firm grip, and leveled at the Mandalorian leader.
The loud noise of a tank turret powered and ready to fire quickly broke her concentration. She froze.
Mandalore held his gauntleted hands out, "Well?"
The look on her face full of overwhelming conflict, every fevered emotion inside her eating at her confused core, but she didn't lower the weapon. She could fire. She could kill Mandalore...maybe. Either way, the tank was going to end her life in a mess of blood, flesh, and splintered bone.
A voice echoed inside her skull. Are you willing to die for the cause? Are you willing to give up your life for others?
Every part of her screamed to pull the trigger, but she couldn't move. Above all, she hated the fearful indecision that held her fast.
"Go ahead and kill me." She threw the blaster down at Mandalore's feet, and stared at him with fevered determination.
Mandalore simply leaned over and picked up the weapon. After a brief examination he started laughing.
"No ammo." He explained.
Save Water: Drink Tequila!