A Mandalorian Disagreement

[Pylon Zerga]

The still vacuum of space was disturbed by the massive amounts of ship traffic of Nar Sadaa's spaceport. A small, personal class transport ship sat in a closed off hanger, removed from the peering eyes and trillions of cameras that covered the living city planet. The small shuttle was a soft, nondescript beige, with an equally forgettable name. It belonged to a Trandoshan called Gripp, a criminal with plenty of fake I.D Codes to pass inspection. It was the perfect undercover transport for any illegal needs. To any untrained Security Force Officer or Dock Master, this was just another of the millions of travelers visiting the many bars and strip joints Nar Shadaa had to offer.

Unfortunately for the Trandoshan, Kara and Pylon were not so easily fooled.

Gripp was returning from a night of gambling and bad decisions in a drunken stupor, stumbling and swaying along, hissing and mumbling to himself. His reptilian movements were even more exaggerated with the alcohol and deathsticks coursing their way through his cold veins, causing him to slither more then walk, his body lacking a certain rigidity then most alien species.

As he made his slow pace towards the loading bay of his ship, opening the hatch remotely with a small ignition key, a primal fear stopped him in his tracks as he saw a figure standing at the top of the ramp inside the ship.. As it came into focus, revealing a small slender frame covered in bright red armor, a blaster rifle slung over it's shoulder, nearly as tall as the wielder. Nearly all features of the humanoid were covered in armor, face hidden behind a sleek, painted, T-shaped visor helmet, though the slight differences in stance, armor and body type revealed the Mandoalorian as a woman..

Gripp panicked almost immediately, letting out an audible yip, doing a full turn around and dash towards the way he came, only to come crashing face first into another body of armor, this time a bright silver, it's wearer noticeably larger and more masculine, the handle of a sword extending past his shoulder. Flat on his backside, Gripp looked up at the towering Mando, arms calmly folded in front of his body, a smug sense of pride visible even with a helmet covering his face.

The Trandoshan hissed something in it's native language of Dosh, pulling a blaster strapped to his leg, aiming at the Silver Mando in front of him, squeezing the trigger as many times as he could with his clumsy, three clawed hand. No sooner then he pulled the blaster, however, did a shooting pain echo though his arm and up his body, his eyes darting around trying to catch up to what happened. Gripp's arm and blaster both laid on the ground next to him, each cut into several pieces, the Mando still standing in front of him, cool, calm and collected, but now with a long, single edged sword in his hand, small sparks of electricity shooting off the blade. Gripp yelled in pain as the shock began to wear off, his green blood spilling into a puddle on the permacrete pavement, several drops dripping from the Mando's sword.

The realization had finally caught up with him. His past had finally caught up with him. The Silver and Crimson Mandalorian bounty hunters, Pylon and Kara, had finally caught him.

"Fierfek! You basssstard! It's gonna take me weeksss to grow that back!" he hissed.

Pylon slid his sword back into his back sheath after giving it a quick spin and twirl, sighing and speaking audibly through through his helmet. "Now now, Gripp. No reason to be such a rude, cold, slimy, disgusting reptile. Why don't you invite my wife and me inside your ship, to all get better acquainted. Here, let me help you." He said in an almost serious, mocking tone of sympathy, reaching down and yanking Gripp to his feet by the back of the length of scales he called a neck. With a hard shove on the back, the weakened Trandoshan marched forward, allowing himself to be captured....on his own ship.

As he passed Kara, he let out a soft hiss as his yellow, bulging eyes moved independent of each other, tracing up and down her small frame. Kara returned the stare from behind her T-shaped visor, cocking her head to the side before pulling a knife from her belt, tossing it up in front of her before catching it, point first, "Stare me down like that again, you slimy chakaar and we'll see if you can grow back an eye as well as a hand." she warned, her voice dark and brooding, dripping with menace.

Pylon quirked a brow beneath his helmet, one of his few signs of expression he could keep to himself. No matter how many years he lived with her, his wife's war-face still struck a bit of fear into him. And he loved every bit of it.
Once on the ship with the loading bay closed, Pylon pushed Gripp into a seat, letting him cralde the stump of an arm close to his chest, taking the seat across from him. Most of the bleeding stop, but the sickly,moist smell of his exposed flesh was enough to make the average civvie's skin crawl. Kara made a striaght line for the cockpit controls after ripping the activation key from Gripp's remaining hand. The Trandoshan continued to curse and mutter under his breath in Dosh, eyeing his captors with burning yellow beads of hatred.

Pylon was the first to take off his helmet, breaking the neck seal and slipping off the protective inner sanctum. As the recycled air hit his face, he let out a long breath of air before sitting back in his seat, casually pulling one of his DC-15s sidearm blasters from a strap on his leg. Gripp eyed the weapon, gears turning in his reptilian brain. Pylon could feel his hostile intentions rising from his body in the Force, like an invisible steam.

Kara soon came back into the cargo bay, her helmet off and hooked onto her belt, her long silver hair wrapped up in a bun on the top of her head. Although beautiful and graceful, it was clear she wasn't just some little girl playing Bounty Hunter. The dead-serious stare and emotionless expression sent a chill don Gripp's spine, making him turn away and stare right down the barrel of Pylon's Deece.

"We can't launch." She stated bluntly. Pylon blinked once before tilting his head at her.
"Why,,?" he returned just as short.
"No ignition code."
"..You just got the ignition key..." "No, the ignition code. Scale-face here put an eight digit code-lock on the cockpit controls, on top of the physical key. We can't take off without it." She explained, her voice sounding more bored then anything, slightly nodding her head towards the prisoner to direct her insult.
Pylon rolled his eyes before leaning forward, lowering his gun a bit to rest it casually on his lap, nudging Gripp with the toe of his boot. "What's the ignition code?"
"Go to hell, Mando-ssscum." Gripp spat, hissing and cussing in Dosh, before yowling in pain as Pylon kicked him hard in the chest, slamming him back into the bulkhead.
"That's too many digits." He stated calmly, returning to aiming his blaster at the Trandoshan's scaly forehead.
"Why sssshould I help you!? Ssso you can take me back to prissson!? Go fierfek yourssself!" He growled, leaning forward, almost daring Pylon to shoot him.

Zerga quirked a brow before grinning a sly, cunning smile, leaning forward in his seat to get as close to Gripp as possible, the lizard's foul smelling scales and flesh bruning the inside of his nostrils. "Oh, you think you're going back to prison? Let me ask you something Gripp, do we look like Republic Prison Officials to you? We're bounty hunters, Gripp. We weren't planning on taking you back to the nice, cushy cell you're probably used to on some oisk space station. Nah, see, Kara had a great idea. See, she said we should take you to whoever would pay the most, and turns out, the Hutts are willing to pay A LOT more for you." He explained, still calm and in control. while Gripp quickly began to lose his cool. At the very mention of the Hutts, his yellow, hallow eyes widened like two cracked eggs. actual tears in his eyes...Or...At least Pylon thought they were tears. He never did pay too much attention in alien biology.

"Wait! Don't take me to the Huttssss! Take me to the Republic! Pleasssse!" He squealed, darting his attention back between Kara and Pylon, probably looking to appeal to one of the Bounty Hunter's sense of mercy...if it existed. Pylon let out a sigh and sat back into his seat, apparently satisfied with the little mind game he was playing. "We can't, Gripp. Not without the ignition code." He said calmly, letting the idea plant itself in his prey's mind.
"....3945-2200" Gripp hissed slowly, looking to Kara to make sure she heard every number. The young woman nodded at her husband, before turning back to the cockpit, leaving Pylon to deal with the defeated bounty. As the ship's launch systems booted up, humming to life and lifting into the air, the Trandoshan let out a final sigh of defeat, sitting back in his seat.
------------------------
After a few minutes of flying, Pylon chuckled to himself lightly, making Gripp snarl and snap at him. "What's ssso funny Mando-sssscum!" "Kara just wanted to kill you actually. You should be thanking me. " Pylon shot back, completely straight faced. Gripp gave a slight blink of disbelief before growling at him again. "Why ssshould I be 'thanking' you!? You cut off my arm!" "You pointed a blaster at me." Pylon shot back quickly, still as clam and emotionless as possible, trying to hide the obvious enjoyment he was getting from this exchange. Gripp seemed to think about this for a moment, before finally coming back with, "You're point a blassster at me!". Pylon looked down to admire his customized blaster pistol. He simply shrugged and smirked,"Well, if you find yourself in a position to cut my arm off, I suggest you take it."

Gripp glared at him before huffing, realizing he was no match for Pylon in either fight or debate, After a moment, he seemed to accept his fate, a small smirk on his face. "Ssso how much did the Huttsss offer for me...?" He asked, seeming to want to stroke any sort of last residual sense of pride. Pylon simply shrugged, slipping his blaster back into it's holster. "No idea." he chuckled. The Trandoshan's yellow orbs turned to stare Pylon in his one, exposed grey eye, the other trying to pierce through the black mane of hair covering his cybernetic one. "You sssaid the Huttsss offered more! You sssaid they wanted me!" He hissed, his murderous seething rage returning.
The small smirk on Pylon's face finally returned as he whispered softly in perfect Dosh, "I lied.". Gripp hissed and screeched like a hawk-bat, standing up in a rage, reaching out with his one good hand and clotted stump as if to strangle Pylon where sat. But with a quick movement of his wrist, Pylon shot two barely visible lines attached to darts, stabbing themselves into the Trandoshan's tough scales, which instantly sent paralyzing current of electricity throughout his body. Gripp fell over andconvulsed on the bulkhead, twitching and contorting in that same reptilian way.

"Night,night." Pylon grinned as he brought his boot down on his prey's neck, holding it there until the twitching stopped, signaling Gripp's final slip into unconsciousness.


Once Gripp had been properly bounded and locked away on the ship, Pylon retired to the cockpit, helmet in hand. Sitting in the pilot's seat side ways, her legs dangling over the arm rests, lightly kicking in the air. Her long silver hair dangling freely over her shoulders. Her eyes met his with a fierce, passionate stare, before her serious face finally broke out into a soft smile. "You were supposed to wait for me to knock him out. You got to do it last time, it was my turn!" she fussed playfully. Pylon let out a light scoff of amusement before walking over and slapping her on the boots, making her spin around and sit up properly in the pilot's seat, letting him take the seat next to her. Apparently not satisfied with the arrangement, Kara got up to reseat herself on Pylon's lap, leaning her back against his breastplate. Their armors rubbed and clanged together, a soft clunk with each of their movement.

"You're too heavy in beskar'gam for this, my Ka'ra" He groaned a little, wrapping his gauntlet covered forearms around her stomach. She growled and sank an elbow into his ribs, causing him to groan a bit louder. "Copaani mirshmure'cye, riduur?!" (You lookin for a smack in the face, husband?!) she warned "Udessi Kara! Your armor weighs almost as much as you do!" He groaned, squeezing her tighter around the stomach. "Almost?!" Kara shouted, elbowing him again harder, before finally giggling as Pylon poked her in the spaces between her armor plates. After a few seconds of wrestling, she looked him in the face, holding him by his chin and pulled him into a soft kiss. "Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, ner'riduur" (I love you my husband) she whispered. Pylon smiled and returned the phrase, "Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum , ner'riduur"(I love you my wife).


The two smiled at eachother, drunk with victory of capturing their bounty, and the ease at which it came. If their luck kept up like this, they would be able to afford just about anything their young, inventive, dangerous hearts could desire.

 

[Keira Priest]

It wasn't like Keira to be hunting bounties. Usually, that was a job better left to her brother, but this time the tables had turned, and she was the one away, not that Alkor was likely sticking around Ashrah. This was a target she'd been pursuing for the better part of a few weeks, made no less difficult by the number of false identification codes that at first made the man nearly impossible to track, until finally there had been a break in it all. Either he'd slipped up and made some careless mistake, or she'd gotten lucky, but regardless it had allowed her to obtain a consistent lead and dedicate more time to proper tactics.

The last leg of the journey had been spent in the back of the ship collecting her arsenal - or, to be more accurate, deciding which pieces of it would be brought along, and which left behind. She hefted her vibro-greataxe in both hands, measuring the weight of the weapon against the opponent she anticipated. Her grip tightened around it, and she lifted it so it held itself magnetically across the back of her armor. Next she holstered her pistol on her left side, sheathing her dagger horizontally across the small of her back. There was little else in terms of equipment she would be able to carry, given the greataxe outweighed everything else on her person.

For the remainder of the time spent on board she simply waited, unsure of how much of or what sort of fight to expect, only knowing that there would be one and she was ready. A Trandoshan was an opponent she'd seldom confronted before, but that concerned her little and less. The man was wanted dead, and that was less about finesse - something she and her brother would largely disagree on - and more about the simple notion of getting the job done right. And when it came to an opponent that outclassed her in almost every category imaginable, her greataxe was a good balancing point.

With a slight rumble, the vessel emerged from hyperspace, and she noted once more with quiet curiosity that the plotted course had brought them near the Core. She hadn't taken her target as one to enrich himself in the cultural centers of the galaxy, but chances were high he was here on a job as well, which only made this all the more interesting. If she was able to stop him before he completed his task, all the better. Perhaps more profit in it for the clans as well, depending.

Once the ship settled on the landing pad she made the last of the post-flight checks, biding her time to allow the target to exit his own ship before her so that she could establish some kind of tail or, if luck held, finish things almost immediately. But when two armored figures exited along with her bounty she was given pause, cursing quietly when one of their T-visors swiveled in her direction. Other Mandalorians. That raised its own host of problems, but given that they didn't appear to be affiliated with the Empire, and that she had her own contract to complete, that detail would be mostly brushed aside. She would still hold off on any kind of lethal force unless it became abundantly necessary, but little else was prohibited.

Keira exited her own ship after the trio, drawing her pistol and firing twice from the hip, the rounds intended for the Trandoshan's center mass.

[member="Pylon Zerga"]

 

[Nicair Claden]

He was a lone operator. That's what he always considered himself, it was the cornerstone of his self idea. Whether it was nature or nurture he didn't much care, that way led into the past. He didn't concern himself with such places. Dwelling on the why of his behavior was irrelevant to the present. The present is where people die, and he was putting himself in situations very close to his own.

He hadn't quite decided why he was testing the newcomer. Whether this Kadika Rihka was truly a newcomer or not didn't factor into Nicair's decision. Until proven otherwise he would assume warriors he hadn't fought with were untested. He was quite judgmental on who he would fight beside, who he would hunt with. War and hunting were synonyms in his mind.

There would always be predator and prey, in any situation.

It didn't take much convincing from the dock workers to allow him to monitor the exchange from the tower camera stream he had already set up. He had a reputation on this planet, both good and bad. Either allowed him to intimidate his way to where he needed to go. One of the workers must have been new as well as deaf to the rumors. He was an young human, the relative cleanliness of his face and the intentionally disheveled nature of his clothing told Nicair he was what some called Nar Shaddaa rich, whether on the moon or not. The armor didn't seem to intimidate him enough, and Nicair had something he needed to do. The Sociph didn't even break stride in delivering a headbutt to the upstart so that he could take his place in the young man's seat. Nicair didn't much venture into this part of the planet; it was too high-class for his work, and on a place like this, "high-class" wasn't very high. It seemed he would have to remedy that in time.

Luck was in his favor, the rich-boy's seat gave him an ample view of both his trial's target takedown steam as well as the port they would take their prey. Effective teamwork, skilled with a blade, proficient at instilling fear.

Not bad.

The trio entered the Trandoshan's ship, Nicair couldn't even remember the creature's name. Grog? Grig? Why so many 'g's in names? In any case there was a delay between closing of landing ramp and takeoff. The bug he had had placed in the Trandoshan's ship gave him an entertaining conversation to listen to. Nicair had a feeling about this one, something about the man. He wasn't completely what he seemed, he has the walk of a Jedi. Careful, measured steps. Graceful yet with force, like a predator stalking its prey. Intriguing.

His legs carried him swiftly back to his ship, the young man hadn't quite recovered from the blow yet. The metal helmet has a tendency to rock someone harder than needed, but no more than they deserve. Never more than they deserve.

It wouldn't take the pair long to get to the new system, maybe a few minutes. Nicair decreased the frequency that he looked at the Nar Shaddaa port feet. It was long distance, usually such a feat wouldn't have been possible, Nicair had remedied that with some.. outside contracting. More than enough slicers willing to do the job on the Smugglers moon that would like to keep their hands unbroken. He wasn't sure what he was expecting to happen, but it was something worth keeping an eye on.

He blocked out the conversation going on between his quarry and the female. Love was something Nicair had once felt, and proceeded to do away with when it became... inconvenient to feel any longer. He hadn't been able to understand it much since.

The trio landed slightly ahead of schedule. An efficient group. The unknown piece to the game made her appearance in her usual fashion.

Keira, do what you do best.

The pieces were aligning themselves nicely.

[member="Keira Verd"] | [member="Pylon Zerga"]