Ataru.

It was nearly as much as an antithesis to her Djem So style as Makashi, though Vissica respected the former a bit more. The ability to kinetically overwhelm with attacks and motion was everything that her style was not. She believed in the utility of movement, and decisiveness of force. Why do in twenty strikes what can be done in one?

Just before Vissica could give chase to her quarry, a sense of impending threat caused her to spin around. She'd been foolish to allow her eyes to deceive her, and Kyle's desultory cinder block struck her with only enough time for her to lower her brow into the impact. The block fragmented in a violent release of sand and shards against the Selonian's forehead plate, leaving a patina of dust over the musteloid's face. Dark eyes filled with water, then pinched shut as she sneezed, dislodging the layer of dust in a violent puff. Vissica's lips peeled back in a bare-toothed growl, staring daggers at the spot where Kyle had been only a moment before.

The white blade of Vissica's greatsaber extinguished. Clipping it to her back, she held her open hands low, closing her eyes as the massive container began to rise off the ground where it had settled. The wail of groaning durasteel and din of falling detritus sounded through the scrap yard as Lady Vissica raised her arms on high. Then as one, she slung her open paws to the ground.

The container pod obeyed her command, falling into the scrapyard like a comet.