You circled close to the bridge, finally finding your way inside those elusive doors. The lifts were strange things, working as though some unseen force were spinning them around. Your timing at the bridge's threshold, however, left something to be sleeping desire — a battalion of droids had spotted you after your cloaking had failed, now charging through the hangar towards you.

A shot whistled by, grazing your wing with malicious intimacy. It wasn't as painful as expected, yet the sting was undeniable. With lithe agility, you leaped over a platoon of droid adversaries, your claws raking mercilessly over their metallic skulls and sending them into chaotic sputters.

Then, the comlink strapped to your forearm chirped urgently. "Come in, Midnight Whisper, come in!" A new voice crackled through the speaker, pulling your attention mid-assault. You skidded to a halt, nearly tumbling over, when a familiar sense of the Force pulsed from the transmission. "Who..." you grunted, even as another laser bolt scorched your tail, shearing away the glistening black scales and branding the flesh beneath. You took a sharp inhale, steeling yourself against the blaze of pain. "Who are you?"

"My name is Anakin Skywalker. I received your coordinates from Commander Thire and Grand Jedi Master Yoda — it doesn't matter where you are," he said, and you stooped low as another barrage of blaster fire soared over your head, one singeing your ear. You growled in pain. "Are you alright? We're in the same system as you, but we can't get a clear shot due to the droid deployment. Listen to me, I need you to evacuate that ship, okay? Do not die."

You snorted with a mix of derision and humor. "I never thought I'd die here, Master Skywalker, but trust me, these droids will be reduced to cinders before you arrive," you retorted with confidence. Your declaration was abruptly cut short when a silhouette emerged from the doors that swung open. The figure stepped forward, its metallic body glinting ominously. You hissed under your breath—General Grievous was in the hangar. If the rumors from the Toydarians were to be believed, Grievous bore lightsabers and was notoriously lethal, a formidable being of half machine, half man.

Anakin's voice sliced through the commotion once more, urgent and commanding. "Just leave, Midnight Whisper. We can't lose you!" You blinked, taken aback. That was new. People often wished you harm, for reasons unknown or simply because you were a Night Fury. Not once had they expressed a desire to keep you alive. It was an unfamiliar concern that added a new weight to your already burdened wings.

"I—" Your voice trailed off as you sighed, allowing your wings to droop in momentary resignation. The comlink on your arm chirped insistently, an audible reminder of the precarious situation at hand. General Grievous, who had been walking with his hands clasped behind his back, swiveled his head in your direction. Something glinted ominously in his golden eyes. "Bring the monster to me," he commanded coolly to a few towering MagnaGuards who marched forward with electric staffs at the ready.

You hissed in disdain. "Look, I wish I could talk to you, Anakin, but I need to do this. Just... stay away," you said determinedly. With a gentle nudge of your nose, you pressed the button that would turn the comlink off, severing the line that tethered you to Anakin's pleadings and distracting transmissions. Silence enveloped you, as you prepared to face the daunting adversary ahead without further distraction.

Grievous's grating voice echoed throughout the hangar. "Come out, little monster of mine. I won't hurt you more than you've done to my droids. Don't worry," he coughed, his tone laced with a wicked amusement. You cocked your head, ears twitching, zeroing in on the sound of the droids that were swiftly approaching your hidden position.

I can do this. I'm a Night Fury, not a coward. I will demolish these MagnaGuards, and I won't let Grievous turn me into his pet. I am a wild dragon, you thought resolutely.

With that thought fueling your resolve, you unfurled your wings, embodying the stealth and stature your namesake implied. Rising from the shadows, your talons gleamed in the red lunar light filtering in behind you. You vaulted over a groove in the wall, your claws slashing through the first MagnaGuard's chest, a cascade of sparks erupting from the wound. It sputtered and collapsed into rubble, its comrades scrambling into a defensive frenzy.

Grievous grunted in surprise, finally laying eyes on you, face to face. Your purple gaze seemed to unnerve him, yet there was a hint of mesmerization in his stare. You were an imposing beast indeed, your presence as majestic as it was menacing.

"Get her!" he bellowed, pointing a clawed hand in your direction. The guards were hapless prey before you, and you effortlessly ducked under the twin arcs of their electrified staffs. Your tail whipped fiercely, shattering their limbs with the precision of an enraged tempest. They withered under the might of your claws, your wings snapping their necks, your teeth drawing forth a torrent of sparks. Soon, they were nothing more than rubble strewn around your feet.

You turned your slit-pupiled gaze to Grievous. "You're a coward, General," you spat out, along with the remains of a droid's head. "Hiding behind guards when you're perfectly capable of fighting yourself." You sniffed disdainfully. "Or maybe you're not. Are you worthy to face a Night Fury, the terror of the galaxy?" A smirk tugged at your vicious maw. "Or will you just run away, as always?" The challenge hung between you, a taunt that echoed off the cold metal walls of the hangar.

General Grievous wielded and drew out two lightsabers, one a verdant green and the other a deep azure. You sniffed dismissively. "Sabers do nothing. Blasters do nothing," you muttered, your ear and tail bearing the telltale signs of burns, testament to their ineffectiveness against your might—they had only allowed these to graze you, sore spots nonetheless, especially your ears.

With the skill of a deadly duelist, Grievous twirled the sabers before arcing them through the air like whirlwinds harnessed by warriors of ancient, forgotten battles. "I'll make you swallow those words," he spat venomously, charging forward in a deadly lunge aimed at your heart.

But you ducked, glowing signs of your agility lighting up the hangar. As he past, you counterattacked, your own charge fierce and calculating. You tilted your head to the side deceptively, your jaws snapping open, teeth baring to feint at his midsection before biting into the plates concealing his mechanical innards.

Grievous gasped, his advanced backward stagger turning into a desperate retreat, but you were relentless, your grip ironclad. The lightsabers clattered from his grasp as he groaned in agony. "Let go, you beast!" he bellowed, trying to escape your punishing hold.

You grinned fiercely, teeth sinking deeper. "Monster? No," you growled lowly. "Merely the hunter... and you, the prey."

He emitted another groan, rubble cascading from his chest where your hold had loosened. Grievous then jabbed toward your ear, claws whistling through the air to score across your scales. It was a futile effort; his attack did not pain you, leaving behind nothing more than superficial scratches. You were impervious to pain, capable of bearing marks but never truly wounded.

Releasing your hold upon hearing the unmistakable whirl of ships approaching, your attention shifted as droids ran towards you, blasters at the ready. "Sir, the Republic dogs are in Sector 3. Shall we eliminate them?" one of the droids bellowed.

As you leapt backward, releasing Grievous entirely, he slumped to one knee, gasping for breath. The blaster fire continued to fill the hangar, a relentless staccato punctuating the chaos. One droid moved closer to its General. "General, are you alright?" it asked, just before Grievous raised a shaky claw. "Don't... Stop," he rasped, and the firing ceased.

You held your position, muscles tensed beneath your scales like coiled serpents, when the Force alerted you of another presence, one you hadn't felt before. Then, the comlink beeped again, causing you to flinch, but you allowed the call to connect.

"Greetings, Lady Midnight, this is General Plo Koon. I have honed in on your position within the Separatist cruiser. Please evacuate before you come to harm," said a deep, resonant voice, and you could almost envision him—tall, with brown leathery skin and a kind face.

With one last hiss at the scene unfolding around you, you spread your wings wide and surged forward, corkscrewing away from the embattled ship. Grievous's cries for you to stop were carried away into oblivion as you shot through the cosmos, the Republic fleet now in clear sight.

A smile flickered across your features as you glided toward their sanctuary. Despite your indomitable nature, you recognized the need to tend to your wounds. They might not bring pain, but the threat of infection loomed—a quiet predator that could consume you just as decisively.

As the cruiser came into view, you tilted your wings downward and dove towards the hangar, brightly lit and inviting. You tumbled in, skidding across the smooth floor, wings outstretched to break your turbulent descent. Your shoulder absorbed the impact with a hiss of pain, the sensation new and raw.

Clones rushed toward you, their hands hovering hesitantly over your hide, voices raised in cautionary tones. "Careful!" one shouted, and they circled around you, unsure whether to touch you, but their presence was enough to prevent you from crashing further into the hangar's depths.

Exhausted, you let your head thump onto the ground, the reverberations sending a tremor through the floor. "Don't worry, I won't harm you," you grumbled, your eyes closing as fatigue finally caught up with you. The tension of the past hours had left you thoroughly drained.

The distinct footsteps of someone approached, drawing your attention. As you lifted your head, you were greeted by the exact figure you had conjured in your mind's eye. Plo Koon, the Kel Dor Jedi, stood before you — his presence radiating kindness, his connection to the Force enveloping you in a gentle caress, as if he knew precisely how to handle a creature as unique as yourself.

A smile found its way to your lips, your teeth retracting into your gums, a trait intrinsic to your kin. "It is an honor to meet you at last, Madam Midnight," he said with a deep, reverent bow, the clones at his side mirroring the gesture. His respect and recognition of your stature were clear, and for a moment, the hangar held its breath in deference to this meeting of warriors.

You chuffed softly, the sound akin to a respectful nod within the language of your breaths. "The honor is mine as well, Master Plo. You may simply call me Midnight," you spoke, even as another sigh escaped you, wisps of smoke trailing from your nostrils, ruffling the distinguished Kel Dor's robes in a warm breath.

He offered a nod, palms joined before him in a sign of both respect and leadership. "Rest assured, medical droids and my crew will attend to you. Stay as long as necessary; we still have to deal with that separatist warship," he assured you.

You acknowledged him with a nod of your own, just as a team of medics started streaming towards you. Harnessing the last reserves of your strength, you stretched out a massive claw, gently brushing it against the Kel Dor's armored chest. He flinched slightly but did not shy away from your touch, instead, understanding the gesture for what it was—a sign of trust.

"You carry my gratitude," you murmured, with a weariness that seeped through your voice. "May the Force be with you, Plo." And with those final words of blessing, your consciousness began to eb, your wings folding at your sides as the world drifted away into darkness.