Defending the Sector

[Ardgal Raxis]

The sand beat down on Daryl Hellborn with the heat in a fury that knew no end. Jakku had never been too kind to beings, but even now, it was worse than before. It had to be at least 104, they had been in this heat too long, and if his training was right, the Ranger knew his training--and his 17 years of successful deployment said he did--they were gonna die if they didn't find any water soon.

He glanced up at the giant, armor clad stranger. It didn't seem to matter to him. He probably had some sort of cooling in there. Water too maybe. Huh, not a team player. The Ranger tired to suppress the feelings of contempt towards this stranger he felt, but the T-slit visor made it hard. He'd know that calling card anywhere. Most of the galaxy would too. Mando. Ugh.

For Daryl, Mando held something especially wicked. His wife and two boys had been gunned down by some of those Mandos. They called themselves the Death Watch. Like that made them something special. All they were was common thugs if you asked this law man. You'd think after 20 years he would forget, but the pain never left. Every time he closed his eyes the man could still see that burning home and their gutted bodies. The heat. Yeah, that had to be the big reason why he hated planets like Jakku here. It couldn't just be the sand that was course, gritty, and got everywhere.

The Stranger stopped abruptly, dead still. Daryl gripped the antiquated rifle in his hands, scanning the horizon for any signs of danger, but all he saw were dunes and more dunes. He glanced up at the stranger, who kept looking forward without so much as a twitch. We are either lost or he's stopped to enjoy the view. Perfect.

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

Daryl removed his hat for the first time since they had arrived on this horrible planet, shaking off some of the sand from his hat. The hot sun beat down on his tawny hide. Silence. Nothing but silence. Daryl's worn fingers played over the frayed inner headband of his hat. How did I end up here? He asked himself, not for the first time in the hour. His took a second before the memory of two weeks ago played through his head once more.......

"Daryl Hellborn?" the voice asked that had changed his life.

The jangled song of the out-of-tune piano rang through the room, barely audible over the sound of the other bar patrons. Daryl could have pretend that he didn't hear it, but it was there, loud and clear. There was no mistaking it, someone had asked for him. The Ranger took a sip from his beer, it was half empty now, before setting it down carefully. His eyes met the bartender on the other side of the worn, greasy and sticky bar. The bald headed man, Roto, gave an uneasy glance as he shuffled with a glass. Ah must be a big time gamer to make Roto uneasy.

Daryl turned on his barstool, leaning back on the bar. Thankfully, his worn duster kept his elbows protected from whatever the barcounter had. But better than that, it angled his legs just right to quick draw either of his pistols in case this went south. It often went south. Daryl hadn't been expecting the black and red armored being before him, and he certainly hadn't been expecting the T-slit visor. A mix of anger, joy, and pain shot through his body. And more than that, memory. If Daryl hadn't been a veteran sabaac, well, it would have shown on his face. He offered a polite businessed nod, "I might be, depends on who's askin, Stranger."

The man took a step closer. Daryl noticed the numerous weapons on his sides. Most of them new, and four pistols. He had to be a big timer for sure or just some sort of rich kid with more money from daddy than sense. "I am looking for someone."

"Well we established who you are looking for. But if we establish who you are we may be able to tell if I can help you."

His helmet tilted to the side, "You are not the one I am looking for. You are the man who is going to help me find him."

"That's mighty strong talk, Stranger." I know his type. Trying to strong arm me into a commitment. He's done this before.

"I am sure you have heard of John the Ripper," the stranger said, changing his angle.

At the mention of the name of the psychotic killer, the entire bar went silent, even the music stopped. Daryl and the Stranger were in the eye of that silent storm, all eyes were on them.

"Of course I have," Daryl said as neutral as could be. "Everyone in the sector has. He's killed at least 25 people in the past two months alone."

"I have come to take care of him."

"Well, ya ain't gonna do that chewing the fat here with me, Stranger."

"The bounty on his head has been raised to 2 million credits, dead or alive," the stranger paused for a moment to let that sink in, "And I intend to split this with you. You are the local law, with my help and your local knowledge, we could bring this being down and split the reward." he paused once more, "Time is money, Mr. Hellborn, I am not fond of wasting either."

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

"Here."

The feeling of something being pressed against Daryl's chest brought him back the present. He donned his hat again and took it before checking it. Water. Any old greenhorn would have just immediately began gobbling the liquid down without a second thought, but Daryl wasn't one to be had. He let the sensor node around his mouth and throat do a toxin scan over it. Modern tech could have done the job in less than a second, but this was aged, and it took minutes.

"I have come a long way to just kill you, Hellborn," the stranger said coldly, "If I wanted to kill you, I could have just shot you cleanly."

He noticed that I don't trust him. The scanner gave a ding and green light. He removed the cap and took a swig from the canteen. Good. "So what's the play here, stranger?"

"We are waiting," the stranger said simply.

He was full of those things. Short, emotionless statements that were more machine than man. Answers that--well weren't answers. "Huh. Well I figured that much. Mind tellin' me for what?"

"You will see soon," the stranger smoothly adjusted the carbine from his shoulder. "Just make sure you are ready when they show up. I cannot garruntee what state they will be in."

"Of course," Daryl took another sip from the canteen before capping it and offering the tin container back.

"Keep it."

"Suit yourself," Daryl clipped the canteen to his belt. He squinted at a dark dot in the sky. It was growing larger, in a minute it was clearly a ship on its way inbound. The ranger gripped his rifle, thumbing the anitquated thing's safety off. It gave a high pitched whine as the gas chamber and power pack warmed up for action. How long had it been around? He didn't know. What Daryl did know was his daddy and his daddy's daddy had both carried the thing into fights. And now he did. Part of him was mostly sure that they were with him when he carried it into battle. The other part was too old to believe in those things.

As the dark dot came closer, its jagged sleek outline became clear. The hot wind coming from its afterburners kicked the sand up in an unforgiving billow that weathered against Daryl's skin. The ship settled before them on its props and Daryl shook some of the sand from his face. He didn't bother with the coating that covered his duster and flight pants now. After a second the loading ramp lowered and he felt another pang of anger. Another Mando. Lovely.

"We've got him, its not easy, but we got him," the new Mando in black armor said as they came to the foot of the ramp, Daryl was slightly surprised that the voice that came from the armor was a woman's "I even--" she stopped, drawing a pistol on Daryl. Daryl was just as fast.

"Who is this?" she demanded as the two glared at each other.

"Daryl Hellborn. He's here to help us," The stranger said.

"We don't need help," the woman spat out with venom.

"Virgil. Weapon. Down," the stranger commanded forcefully.

After a tense moment, she lowered her weapon first. Then Daryl, "Pleasure to meet you, Ma'am."

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

"Likewise," she said in a way that clearly conveyed otherwise. Virgil turned back to the stranger, "I have the prisoner tied down. Have at him." the woman tossed a key card to the stranger.

"I will make this short, both of you wait in the ship somewhere, try not to kill each other," the stranger said before making is way up the loading ramp. The woman followed after him.

Daryl waited outside for a moment. He didn't know how many were inside, and there was more than likely more like more Mandos on board like the woman than not. The ranger pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. He hated this, he hated this idea strait from the beginning, and it was only getting worse every second. He shook his head from irritation of it all. This wasn't the first time he had worked with someone he hated and in fact, this was almost not as bad compared to some. Against is prefrence, and his better judgement, the ranger climbed up the ramp into the ship.

It was sleek, it was newer, and judging by the blast marks on the walls against the black plasteel siding--it was forcibly taken. The corridor led Daryl into the messhall where the dim aqua lighting gave a semi-sense of ambiance. On the other side of the room, leaning against the wall, Virgil watched him enter. He could feel her glaring at him through that T-slit visor with her arms crossed. The ranger nodded, it didn't matter to him all the same, as he sat at one of the round tables. He was careful to set his rifle on the top where he could easily grab it in case Virgil decided to do more than stare. Beside it he set his hat, and Daryl ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh. A sense of semi-relaxation settled over him. It had been a long hard treck with lots of heavy research, lots of heavy effort, and very little sleep. Just how it always seems to be in this job. Its what takes away those who have no conviction out of it.

"You think you can handle what we are going up against with that dinosaur?" Virgil cut through his thoughts with a challenge.

Daryl smiled slightly, "She's never failed me before," which was a lie, but not the point.

Without a word, she opened a locker next to her, Daryl reflexively swipped his rifle from the table top and sighted her down. His finger wrapped around the trigger as she tossed a rifle at him, landing squarely in front of him on the table. It was training alone that stopped him from shooting her armor. He didn't know if it would cut through her armor, but that wasn't the point.

"Use that," she said, "Particle beam, we make 'em. Keep it."

She turned off into one of the other corridors, leaving Daryl to inspect his new weapon. Not bad, he thought with begrudging acceptance. It was definitely better than he would ever have otherwise, worth more than all he owned.

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

As Daryl finished inspecting the rifle, he set it down with with a pleased nod. It would be helpful, it was well worth its weight in gold. The sound of a faint scream made Daryl's eyebrow's furrow. He lowered his head, concentrating on what he could hear. There it was again, and the sound of blows with it. Screams, pain. So that was what the stranger was doing.

He folded his duster over his worn jeans. He knew the challenge. He knew the need to sometimes shove potential suspects on the hood of a speeder too hard, or tighten cuffs too tight. Sometimes the pressure had to be put on suspects to get them to squeal. But he had never really actually beaten anyone. There was a line, somewhere, but he didn't know quite where. Daryl didn't even know why this bothered him. He had shot many people. He had done his fair share of the killing, but usually because they were already shooting at him--or about to. Had he crossed the line? And does that even matter? A bad person is a bad person. If this person knows where John the Ripper is, then its helping us stop something so much worse.

The blows stopped, then he heard some louder, higher pitch talking. It was fast, frantic, and in some language that he didn't understand. But he didn't have to. He was begging for his life. Pleading. He must have already spilled it. There was a loud shot from the other room. Silence. A door slid open, and the stranger came out, followed by Virgil.

"We have a location," the stranger said. Even with the red on his armor, the blood splatters were unmistakable. "Taris. John the Ripper is on business there, securing a heavy drug run."

"Good," Daryl said with a nod, "Anything else?"

"Its all we were going to get," Virgil said folding her arms hostilely, "The captive was hard to break."

"Well its more than we've had in years," Daryl said shifting in his chair uneasily, "Sounds like we should get a move on before John starts missing this captive."

"Oh, he won't," Virgil said, "This was just an underling."

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

The flight to Tariss was pretty uneventful. Daryl spent most of his time memorizing his new particle rifle, from butt to barrel. Virgil and the Stranger spent their time huddled together. Neither one took their helmets off, he heard that was a big thing with those strange mandos. Yet another reason to hate their guts. The two of them spent a lot of time huddled together over a console or near each other. It looked like they were talking, but without any words coming out--or any real gestures. It was the subtle things he could see; slight inclines of the head, very minute twitches of the fingers or hands, shifts in the body weight--the sort of things a man like Daryl learned to look for over time. Must have some sort of helmet com. They don't trust me. Daryl didn't care. It was more skin off his nose, the less he had to deal with these freaks, the better it was. Cut from the same cloth as the type who killed my family. It didn't matter who or what they claimed to be. They were still all one and the same to let those lots go by unpunished.

A red light on the consoles and a hard buzz broke Daryl from his thoughts. The Stranger rose to his feet as Virgil found her way into the control room, "We are here. We narrowed down John's location. He is staying at a luxury resort called The Golden Oasis under the name Marcus Delfino. Over various reports, security cameras, and analysis results, we have uncovered that John has no less than 12 guards with him, and we are guessing at least 20 more waiting on standby not far away. Its safe to assume the authorities are on John's payroll in one way or the other. We are going to try and infiltrate under cover, get close, and take John alive--if possible. If not, we will use lethal force. We want to minimize collateral damage and civilian casualties so use caution when possible. Any questions?"

"Yeah, just one," Daryl said gripping his rifle, "How am I supposed to go in undercover when I look like this? Its not exactly the common thing around these parts."

"There is a clothing store near the landing pad that Virgil can take you to for a change of clothes. Try to go for something more upscale, like a client of the Golden Oasis. we will cover the costs," the stranger said, "Meanwhile I will prepare our arsinol for when we make our strike."

They still don't trust me. Smart buggers. Super paranoid too, "Sounds like a plan to me."

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

The black-armor clad woman marched with Daryl out of the spaceport. She was about as inconspicuous as a mountain, even on a metropolis planet like this. People steered far and wide to clear away from the two of them. Mainly her. No one forgets the mandos. How quaint. She led him out to the parking lot, where they both found a white SUV sized speeder unattended and out of view. It took that metal-clad woman 90 seconds to hotwire the thing. Damn. Girl has some practice. Daryl thought as he climbed in the passenger seat.

An uncomfortable silence covered the two as they made their way towards the store. They do need to know they can trust me. Maybe that's what this little jaunt is about. Its not like they couldn't have clothes on the ship. Cleaver little bastards that Stranger.

"I remember my first undercover mission," Daryl mused sitting back, "It wasn't as big as this, just a small timer, the bounty was only a couple hundred credits. He was guilty of," Daryl scratched his unshaved muzzle, "defaulting on child support, I think. Home wreckin bastard. Anyway I found the guy's apartment, tailed the guy a good 20 mins from casino to casino out off on Cloud City. Kid spent more there than he ever would have needed to for child support," Daryl shook his head, "At last, when I was good and ready, I came up and cuffed the fool. I remember that feeling. The look of fear in his eyes as I slammed him on that Sabaac table," the Ranger chuckled, watching the scenery go by, "I collared him, threw the man in, got my hundreds, and that was it. I knew I was hooked from there."

An icy silence covered the two. Daryl cleared his throat, trying again, "Yeah, that was the moment I knew I wanted to be a ranger."

"Funny," Virgil said with pure, chilling spite in her voice, "I thought it was the moment you came home to find your family slaughtered by marauders."

A spike of anger shot through Daryl, it took all of his experience to keep from lashing back out, "Oh, you know about that too, huh?"

"We know everything about you, Daryl Hellborn, including that your real name is Mason Feltson, and that is a life you've tried to leave behind after several name changes and several attempts to restart."

Daryl shook his head with a sigh. It took a lot of willpower to keep from grabbing that steering yoke in her hand and slamming their speeder into the oncoming traffic. They reached an intersection, pulling up to a stop.

"Ya know, momma always said that it takes two sides to build a bridge. If its only one side workin' its a diving board," Daryl said, rubbing his hands along his jeans, 'I feel like that's what I've got. You know everything about me but I don't even know your partner's name. How can I work with you under such conditions?"

Her T-slit visor turned to face him. That harrowing helmet with no soul, no life, no anything looked at him. He wondered if that face was the last thing his wife saw before she faded into the nothing. He prayed that if there were any gods, that wouldn't be so.

"Trust us. That's all," Virgil said simply.

"Trust? Trust the same people who killed my family? You realize they were killed by your kind?" Daryl could feel his voice rising, the anger he had tried to keep behind his professionalism slipped through slightly.

"My father and mother were murdered by local law enforcement. Rangers. Who were corrupt and in the payment of a crime lord, not unlike the one we are after," Virgil informed him like it was the temperature or time of day, "You expect me to trust you?"

The law man balled his fist, releasing it in defeat, he had nothing on that, "That's different?"

"Only in your mind, Mason."

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

It didn't take long for Daryl to find himself a blue suit with a shimmersilk white shirt. The cost of the suit alone made him balk inside, but Virgil covered it. The man expected this was the type of thing that these fools they were going for wore every day. That's what made it all the worse. There was no right for this.

The ride back was silent, and Daryl had to be honest he was glad for it. Virgil had hit too close to home for him. Maybe it was different, maybe it wasn't. He knew there were corrupted officials everywhere, rangers were no exception to that rule. But there was something too easy about it. Something too incriminating. When they got back to the ship, Daryl was surprised. A dark skinned man stood in the middle of the ship, dressed in a rather flattering gray suit. Before him was a massive arsenal of weapons, spread across several tables. It ranged from the very common to the really strange stuff.

"We're ready to go when you are," Virgil said to the man, grabbing a sniper rifle off the table.

"Excellent," the voice matched the Stranger's in the Armor. Daryl hadn't seen the man out of his armor, he was beginning to wonder of there was anything under there that wasn't metal. The stranger looked at him as he placed a phrik revolver in a concealed shoulder holster, "Are you comfortable? Do you need a weapon?"

Daryl grabbed a pair of razor edged vibroblades. He slid them both into concealed slots along his hips. "I think this should do me good."

"I'll set up nest, the two of you will know when I'm in place," Virgil promised as she walked towards the exit hatch. "See you on the flip side."

A moment after the female vanished out the hatch, Daryl heard the sound of the speeder reeving to life and driving away.

"Sounds like its the subway for us," the stranger said with a half chuckle.

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

The level of opulence at the Golden Oasis was something that only a small town Ranger like Daryl could ever imagine existed, or saw in the movies. The flashing slot machines lined up in rows on rows with bright lights and flashing signs was something amazing. The thick, plush, carpet with the swooping architecture gave way into massive, breath taking rooms lit by diamond studded, golden chandeliers. The fragrance of a thousand foods and perfumes floated through the air.

"My bet is he is in the upper levels," came Virgil's voice through the bead-sized comm in Daryl's ear. "In those VIP sections that I hear so much about."

"Won't be easy getting in there," Daryl muttered as they crossed the massive floor to the lift that would take them to the higher levels.

"Oh don't worry," the stranger assured him as he depressed the gilded button. "Money opens more doors than force."

"My intel tells me VIP starts on level 12, its as high as your gonna get on that lift before security breaks."

The crested double platinum doors slid closed a sound and the two stepped in. They made their way to twelfth floor before the doors opened once more. A lobby stood before them, a pair of muscled, suit clad guards stood before a velvet rope that barred their way down the opulent hall forward.

"May I have some identification, please?" one of the men asked as the pair came closer.

"Yes, just let me check my wallet," The stranger said retrieving his billfold. He plucked a high denomination credit from his wallet and handed it over to the man. Daryl did his best to not show his shock at how much the man was throwing around to get in, "I believe this will cover it, correct?"

The man pulled the red rope aside, "Please enjoy your stay, good sirs."

Daryl waited until they were well past the bouncers before he spoke up, "You sure do seem to be ok with throwing your credits around."

"Business expenses that will be more than recouped after this job is done."

"Well true, but you seem to have no end of those chips up your sleeves."

The stranger quirked an odd smile, "You know what naturally placed me in a paygrade well above yours?"

"No, what?"

"Everything."

Daryl's mouth snapped shut. Normally the word would have sounded pompous, arrogant, or just self-righteous, but the way he said it was so factual, like the time of day. The ranger shrugged, 'I am just a simple man trying to make a living. That's all."

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

The hall gave way to massive game floor where card tables, dice tables, and several games of roulette were in motion. There were dozens of them, and beyond this room, Daryl could see doors leading to dining rooms, lounge rooms, and so on. A massive winding wooden stair case lined the wall, leading up to a second level where he could guess one could only find more of the same.

"Alright, let's split up and start searching. It could take hours," Ardgal said giving Daryl a pat on the shoulder.

"Hours?" Daryl quirked a brow. "We don't have hours."

"You have any better ideas?" Virgil cut in from the comm in his ear.

"I do, actually," Daryl said as he extended his palm to Ardgal, "Give me some of your money."

The man studied Daryl for a second before retrieving his billfold again and handing over a few hundred credits. The ranger tapped the shoulder of a passing tuxedo clad waitress.

"Can I help you, sir?" she asked flashing a practiced smile.

"I bet you can, gorgeous," Daryl said laying on some charm of his own. He really let his southern drawl come out, "I just need you to give Marcus Delfino and his party your finest Tiramisu, and tell him its courtesy of Eastern Banking and we certainly are happy to oblige his re-negotiation of our previous agreement."

"I will most certainly," she said with candy-like sweetness in her voice before hurrying away.

"Smart move," Ardgal said watching several of the tables around them. "Virgil, keep an eye on the kitchen."

"Got it. Eastern Banking is gonna be super pissed when Johny's thugs come by expecting more of the cash and end up breaking more caps."

"There will be no need for that, John's life will be extinguished long before the next payment is due."

"Just one of the joys of being one of slick lawmen," Daryl said with a wry shrug.

"Thermals indicate you should see an enterauge of waiters incoming. Looks like they are carrying some serious platters."

"I see them," Daryl said as a quartet of waiters bearing trays of the Tiramisu cake crossed the casino floor, "Damn, if we don't kill him, the diabetes will be sure to finish John off after this."

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

The servers made their way up the circling staircase and Daryl casually found his way after them, trailing the well dressed me by twenty feet or so. The stranger wasn't too far behind. A gorgeous woman in a fine-fitting golden dress crossed their paths, with all the curves in the right places. Daryl's eyes wandered after her to get a look at he cut out in her back. He missed a step, stumbling but catching himself on the next.

"Stay focused," the stranger warned him from behind.

"Come on, you gotta admit even you were looking some," Daryl said with a shrug.

"I have someone else to fill that position," he said with indifference.

"Oh, you gay?"

"No."

"Well then how could you not look at that?" Daryl asked jerking his head back at the woman they'd by far passed.

"Could you two boys keep it in your pants till the job is done? Please?" Virgil cut in over the comm, irritated. "Money first. Money always first."

The servers took a turn into one of the nearby lounges. Daryl intentionally kept going past it, just giving a casual glance in the doorway like some over powdered over paid tourist. Or at least, he tried to come across that way. This was a level of new to him that the man had never faced before. Inside he saw several couches filled with a variety of beings, all clad in riches, along with a some band playing a swanky tune. It was catchy, even if it wasn't his style.

With the stranger not far behind they passed another set of stairs, into a lounge. After ten minutes mingling, the duo looped back around to follow the deserts.

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

"--I don't care what they say, we aren't going in that direction," a voice finished as Daryl easily slipped into the room.

He easily caught a seat on a plush leather sofa in the corner near the door. The stranger found a seat next to him without much difficulty.

"Eyes on the target," Ardgal murmured, just audible. "I count 20 armed guards here. That's just around the big one himself."

Daryl gave a casual look around the room as he sat back comfortably. In one of the far corners was a rather plain looking guy wearing a very expensive suit. There was nothing exceptional about him, no psychotic look, no intense handsomeness, no terrifying scars across his chin or anything. If Daryl would have passed the man on the street, he would have assumed he was just another dark haired, pale skinned human wearing a little too much in the manner of money. But that was their target. That was who they had come so far for. That was John the Ripper. And around him was a cabal of smartly dressed, very deadly bodyguards and barely dressed call girls hanging off every being they could. Sitting in the middle of their lounge set, were the decadent Tiramisu platters.

"Looks like the bigboy has a pretty nice eye for the ladies too," Daryl murmured, waving over one of waiters bearing champagne flutes. He grabbed one effortlessly, "I can't say I am surprised. With cash like that, I'd spend it well."

"The odds of us getting in there like this and getting out a live are 1 in 127,843," the stranger said grimly, "we have to find another route up."

"You just made that up off the top of your head," Daryl rolled his eyes taking a sip of the expensive liquid. Honestly, it was incredibly underwhelming. The stranger gave him a look that said he hadn't made that figure up at all. "Ok, well then what do you suggest we do? I already got the guy for us, your turn to get the idea."

"I didn't know we were taking turns," Virgil muttered.

"Can you get a clear shot from where you sit, Virg?" The stranger asked.

"Negative. I can't penetrate that glass in one shot, even with the Ghost, that's an inch and a half thick ballistic glass. It's going down with a fight."

"Oh gods," Daryl groaned setting the glass down on the table before as he rose to his feet, "I guess I'm the only one thinking creatively, right? Follow my lead."

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

"Marcus Delfino?" Daryl asked striding boldly into the party of criminals. He extended his hand warmly, "Good to finally meet you, sir, your a hard man to locate."

The tension around the group was palpitable at the two invaders of their privacy. John gave a steely eye as he reluctantly shook Daryl's hand. His grip was so weak it felt like a dead fish, "I value my privacy."

"I understand why you do, sir," Daryl shrugged, "after all, a philanthropist of your calibur probably gets plenty of solicitors. Might I add that your work on Corouscant--"

"What can I do for you?" John cut him off.

"Well, I thought that you could use a few hands with some of your work."

"I don't need any help," John shrugged him off, "Have a good day--"

"Oh, that's fine, sure, sure," Daryl shrugged, "I understand Mr Delfino. Or would you rather I call you by your real name," he paused, "John the Ripper?"

A series of blaster pistols came out from everywhere, every direction he could look, Daryl spied more blasters, more weapon barrels, and angry eyes ready to blow his head off. Out of the corner of his eye, Daryl could see the stranger had his fair share of weapons aimed at him. John's face showed a mix if irritation, frustration, and surprise.

"What the hell are you doing? I can't shoot you out of there," Virgil barked into the comm.

"Give me one good reason to not shoot you right now where you stand," John said, his words laced with rage.

"I'll give you three. If I was an assassin here to shoot you or bring you down, why would I come up to you like this? Why would I show that I know who you are?" Daryl said amiably, "That'd be the dumbest thing I could ever do. Its a fool's work, and I am no fool. I am a professional. Second, finding you is hard, damn near well impossible. It takes skills, a lot of skills. Skills that can only be learned over years of time in a trade. Those are some valuable skills. You're a savvy businessman, I don't have to convince you that such a buy would me more than worth your time. Third, you know who I am. You've heard of me before. I'm someone you are well aquainted with." He looked John square in the eyes, "I am Ranger Daryl Hellborn."

"A Law man," one of the bouncers growled, cocking the hammer of his pistol back. "I say we shoot him now."

"Get out, bang the hell out of there now, abort, abort, abort," Virgil bellowed into the comms.

"I'm not just some lawman," Daryl's eyes remained locked on John's, never moving, "I am the law man who killed ten mandos single handedly. Look at my record. I'm no boyscout." he paused to let the next words have their full effect, "And I am up for hire."