Private Not Another Bounty Hunter

[Jon Dromon]

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Current Outfit

Spoiler: Music OOC

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Dead or alive. That’s how a bounty hunter like Jon Dromon survived day and night, wherever he was, however he moved, including space where hours were counted by the darkness between the stars far apart.

Poetic nonsense, one target had taught him, but in truth he was sometimes amused by the speeches of his bounties; right before he slapped cuffs on their wrists or plugged a bolt into their skull. Today, tonight, whatever the time, it was a bit different.

In the Outer Rim, Keres was a space station that catered to any who wanted to visit or live in it. Only it was mostly built inside the asteroid as opposed to on top of it, and was much like a city, just with high ceilings instead of skies and giant corridors for streets.

Keres Station was like a diamond in the sky, albeit black, or dark grey, tinged in blue, a bit like a certain Duros’ face. He had landed, navigated his ship, Dreadclaw, into one in a number of hangars, and negotiated his way through the spaceport sector of the makeshift city.

The Duros had found a bar, ordered a rum, spotted his mark and then some, cashed his tab and advanced—casually at that. He moved toward a restroom, nonchalantly entering behind a Mon Calamari who was conversely running into the nearest stall.

Meanwhile, the Duros stood tall at a urinal, listening to a man beside him who whistled in turn to the whisper of his piss.

“Say…” Jon Dromon spoke the other man’s way. “Your name Liger Dentalion?”
The whistling suddenly stopped as did the splashing of urine against a metal backdrop.

“Never met him,” the other guy sniffed. “Sounds like a dentist who collects tigers and lions.”

He promptly walked away toward the sinks.

“Funny.” Jon remarked after finishing his business, zipping and following. “You look just like him", he said at the sinks, offering an image on his comlink.

“Really?” The guy barely blinked, washing his hands. “Big galaxy. Lots of history. Someone looks like everyone. I actually read this article by one Dr. Jayrenel Metrum on cross species genetics. Did you know she found a Chevin who looks just like an Ortolan? Crazy!”

“I was never good at biology,” Jon replied honestly. “Except when it comes to putting a gun on someone’s head. There’s a bounty on yours. I’m here to collect.”

Liger Dentalion stared in the mirror as though his worst fears were looking back at him.

Two Weequays appeared in the mirror just then, backs to the stalls. “Liger Dentalion?”

Jon spotted them in the reflection. They were strapped. Somethin’ smells fishy…

“IT’S A CRAP” Came a Mon Cala’s call from a restroom stall.

Then, all at once, everything happened so fast. There was an explosion, biological, into the Calamari’s toilet. Liger flicked his hands and splashed tap water into the Duros’ face. Then he ran.

One Weequay raised his blaster. “YOU’RE DEAD!”
Not on my watch. Jon Dromon raised his blaster.
-PHWOM!- A bolt coughed. It buried in his head.
“BROTHER!” Cried the fellow hunter. His brother.

He raised his blaster. -PHWOM!- Jon was faster.
So much for his competitors. Yet, he screwed up.
It was a habit, like smoking cigars or sipping rum.
Telling them their head is his since he is a hunter.

Yet, in this instance, Jon Dromon is the protector.
Jon's job was to defend Liger from the other hunters.
He should have led with that as Mon Cala crapped.
He ran after Liger. Slipped on water. Landed on his ass.

Drego Ruus

 

[Drego Ruus]

Rich Assholes were a dime a dozen in the galaxy. Plenty of slime balls were happy to bend the code of honor for the sake of making a credit or two. Drego couldn't stand any of them. It was never about the money to him. It was about the thrill and the principle. Being the bounty hunter? You could take contracts willy nilly. Make easy money. But it would make you just as bad as the people who you were taking down. Drego was above that. A man of principle. Under his helmet, a cigar burned and filtered through his helmet. A custom modification that had led to Drego only fueling his vice. Not that he cared. He was taking down a fragging crook. Some dumb sumbinch named Liger.

He walked the halls of the space station that he'd tracked the target to. Some dumb rock in the middle of nowhere space. But it made for a hell of a shooting gallery once this...

And there he was. Rushing out of a bathroom. Alright then. The game is on.

"Tanya, get a read on his bio signature. I want to track this frag if he's gonna run for it."

The contract said alive. Now he just had to catch him. Lucky for Drego, he was much faster than this corporate shmuck.

Jon Dromon

 

[Jon Dromon]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

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Water. Crap. Mon Cala taking a crap. Duros landing on his back. Sometimes the universe just worked like that. His target had given him the slip, splash of liquid in the eye, and the guy was gone quite like those Weequay brothers who Jon Dromon had promptly slain with a couple of bolts to the brain.

He lay on his back now, that bounty hunter, hunting a target, not to bring him in dead or alive, but to keep him alive from those who wanted him dead or alive. Whatever, it made more sense in his head. Sometimes the galaxy was easy to understand; other times it was as complicated as Jedi and Sith sitting down for breakfast at sunset or sundown.

Anyhow, Jon got up to his feet as quickly as possible, right beside a fellow restroom patron who cocked his fishface and extended an eyebrow at him. “IT’S A STRAP” Mon pointed at Jon Dromon’s blaster at his hip.

“I ain’t gonna shoot ya, idiot.” Jon gritted his teeth, waving a hand between their faces. “Spray somethin’, for star’s sake.” Had the Calamari eaten Quarren for breakfast? Whatever, the Duros was off, taking after his quarry, that other idiot, Liger Dentalion.

He couldn’t have gotten far even after his protector was delayed after landing on his ass instead of his face. Outside the facilities, Jon looked left, looked right, didn’t see the guy. By this time, however, Liger was likely walking instead of legging it, so as to keep inconspicuous.

Whatever, the bounty hunter was after him, walking at a brisk pace as if he was just someone in a hurry to catch his next flight. Dark blue pinstripe suit. The hunter sniffed. Lighter blue dress shirt. No tie. His eyes shifted. Toothy grin. Smiling eyes. Liger Dentalion couldn’t run or hide forever.

Question was…is someone following him beside Jon Dromon? Then again and better yet, is there a predator tailing the protector who hunts the hunters for Liger, dead or alive?

Drego Ruus

 

[Drego Ruus]

Another Bounty Hunter. Jon Dromon.

Drego had turned a corner, and saw a Duros exit that same bathroom ahead of him, just in time for Drego to get a shot out. Pulling the shovel off his back, he knew exactly how to start this.

"HEY SCUGHOLE!" He yelled over his vocal speaker, before swinging for the big blue forehead of Jon Dromon with his tactical shovel. Never leave home without it.

 

[Jon Dromon]

Spoiler: Music OOC

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Where was he? His target couldn’t be far. That idiot, Liger Dentalion. He won't know what hit him.
Certainly wouldn’t know that Jon Dromon, a Duros, a bounty hunter, was here for his protection.
Kinda crapped that tactic up, Jon did, but what the crap, Jon still had to complete this mission.
Likely there were other hunters after each other wanting Liger dead or alive. It is competition.

Jon Dromon's a bit used to it as he moved forward toward his business. Liger could not run.
I’m comin’, bub. Crazy. Usually the Duros would say that with the aim of blaster bolts to plug.
Not in this instance. He maintained some distance from being seen as he kept his brisk pace.
Didn’t want authorities on the scene. Then “HEY SCUGHOLE” while something came his way.

“What’s it?”
Jon turned.
“OH SHIT”
He cursed.

The Duros dodged that tactical shovel like his life depended on it because it probably did.
He went low, ducking beneath that blow, and then came up with a pistol in his right hand.
If his opponent decided to attack right then, Jon would react, but for now he didn’t attack.
Instead he would level his pistol toward a Mandalorian whose armor was its own business.

Did the guy really want to get himself arrested in the middle of this spaceport and station?
That was a great way to make sure their target got away from both of them, Jon reckoned.
“You drunk or somethin’?” Jon would attempt to say in greeting assuming he’s still standing.
For, of course, his Mandalorian opponent might very well have just then taken another swing.

Drego Ruus

 

[Drego Ruus]

"No, just crazy." He responded. Rather than trying to swing again, he pointed his arm out towards Jon Dromon 's leg, unleashing a torrent of cryo at the other hunter, "Now hold still. I got a bounty to collect. And if you try to shoot me, I'd suggest you figure out otherwise."

He turned away from the fellow bounty hunter. "Tanya, find me that Kriffface."

"You got it boss!"