Private Two Marks, One Head

[Siv Dragr]

H U N T E R​

Location: Starbase Yamarro, Lyran IV
Tag: Koda Fett

Siv remembered Lyran from the first day the Enclave had come to call. He'd been part of the band of Mandalorian mercenaries that had torn into the pirates that had been using the backwater planet as a base of operations in the early stages of the Frontier War. Since then, he hadn't revised the planet; but work inevitably brought him back to the world. Lyran IV was a notorious trans-shipment point of spice, flowing in the north from Kessel and south from syndicate territories in the Outer Rim. The Enclave's presence had restricted that flow quite a bit, but criminals simply learned to adapt, to better hide their illicit cargo. And Mandalorians, as few as they were, couldn't be everywhere at once, and when it was regulars on the job, they were far more susceptible to bribes, and if not, threats.

It was only a matter of time before the Karjr took action, and soon enough a bounty had been issued for the head of Hatoosh Gul-gad, a Klatoonian spice lord who'd set up operations protecting spice shipments through Lyran IV in exchange for a hefty price that most smugglers had no other option than paying. Mandalorian logic followed that if Gul-gad was eliminated, spice smuggling would some time to recover from the power vacuum, leaving Lyran clean for a while. And Siv, always in need of credits, jumped at the job. Which is why he was now in a back-alley cantina in Starbase Yamarro.

"Another round," Siv rasped, knocking the hardwood table to grab the Gamorrean bartender's attention. The heavyset alien grunted and grabbed the glass. Siv wasn't sure if the Gamorrean spoke Basic, but it at least understood it, and for his part, Siv could understand from the Gamorrean's grunts that he wasn't exactly a favored patron. Not that it particularly mattered to him, not now at least. He wasn't being paid to curry favor with the civilian population. His helmet rested aside him on the bar counter, where he sat hunched over. He felt the weariness in his bones, though he knew that there was no time to rest. He rationalized a drink by using the time to calculate his next moves on his target, and he believed that it was never good to go into a gunfight 100% sober.

Footsteps stopping abruptly behind him suddenly caught his attention, and he tilted his head slightly downward. There were multiple pairs of feet, and from what he'd heard they'd stopped roughly several paces away from him, spread out in a rough semi-circle. That meant that they were most definitely facing him. And they probably weren't here to sign an autograph. "We don't like Mandalorians 'round these parts," a gruff voice called from directly behind him, confirming Siv's suspicions. The voice was non-human, from the sound of it. "I would like me some beskar armor though." He heard the click as a blaster's safety mechanism was flipped off and a bolt was primed.

Siv sighed, counted to three, and suddenly pushed back away from the counter, somersaulting backward as a red blaster bolt raced mere inches above his chest -- horizontal to the ground -- before colliding into the bar with a spray of charred splinters. Coming to his feet, he whirled around to face his attacker, using his left arm to smack away the blaster before the Klatoonian thug could fire off another shot. With his right, he drew his own pistol and fired twice point-blank into the Klatoonian, the disruptor-enhanced blaster bolts shredding through the light leather armor of the syndicate thug. The Klatoonian's allies on either side pushed in, wielding shock-lances whose tips pulsated with deadly voltages of electricity. One of the lances prodded Siv, sending a brief shock of agony through the Mandalorians body, but his armor's electric sinks quickly kicked in, grounding the current. Gritting his teeth in pain-induced rage, he raised his blaster-hand to the right and fired, sending the offending Klatoonian down on the spot. The last lancer tried to do the same, but Siv anticipated it this time, stepping a pace back to let the point and shaft extend past his body. He reached out with his left hand to pull the lance along further, holstering his blaster and drawing his knife with his other hand in one fluid motion. The third Klatooinan was pulled off balance with the sudden yank of the lance, and Siv finished his work by plunging his knife squarely into the Klatooinans throat, letting the thug gurgle before he drew the blade from the body and let it fall to the ground.

The first Klatooinian was still groaning -- his two companions dead on the floor -- and coughed up blood, two charred-black holes where Siv's blaster bolts had pierced him. The heat had instantly cauterized the wounds, but there was likely a mass of internal bleeding from the kinetic impact of the weapon; the hired gun would be dead in a matter of minutes. "Do you work for Lord Gul-gad?" Siv emphasized the question by pressing down on the Klatooinian's wound lightly with his steel-tipped boots, the pressure adding pain to the Klatooinian's already-fatal injuries.

"Y-yes," the thug coughed, more blood spraying across his muzzle and ripped garments.

"Where?" Siv breathed, a stone-cold fury in his eyes as he pressed ever-so-slightly harder. The question needed no elaboration; the Klatooinan knew exactly what Siv was asking.

"Like hell I'd tell you," the Klatooinan spat with blood and menace. And then, he died.

Siv kicked the body over with disgust, turning back to the counter to grab his helmet, slipping it over his face, masking his features. It took a moment for the HUD to kick in, and for that moment he was surrounded by black. But then life returned to his view, enhanced by the sensors and indicators of his armor. He flipped a couple of credits to the irate bartender. "For the mess," he said by way of explanation, though he knew it was no more than a token gesture. He probably would be wise to stay away from this bar for a while, but it was unlikely he'd ever feel compelled to return to Lyran IV for a good long while, either. Turning, he set to leave.

Time to hunt.

 

[Koda Fett]

LYRAN IV
Siv Dragr

It seemed as if these self-declared warlords had been in no short demand in these territories, those that elected to focus more on their lord side than war; murder was their move to humble the denizens of whichever rock he or she chose to torture - in time, driven free from them but not without their share of harm done to those that suffered beneath them. But as virtuous as the removal of someone such as that sounded, the Mandalorian instead found the rewarded credits to be far more worthwhile than whatever thanks the locals could muster.

He was in a bind, hunted, and need to dwell far from the Core for some time. For all the credits Fett was offered to take on the Senate, the soldiers and Jedi that came after him had a reach that stretched far from their own territories. DIstance was his friend, for no one else was. Old connections withered on the vine in fear of the crime of collusion. His helmeted face broadcasted all across the Core, the list of his crimes, and the reward for his head. Even offered to those that allied themselves with the democratic centre housed in those territories.

"Let's see," he murmured to no one other than himself, the dismembered robotic head of a droid cradled in one hand as the other forced cables into the base of it from within his vessel. In the corner of his vision had been the walls that encased his craft, as if made of frail sandstone, even if the floor of the enclosed area had been made from durasteel. He wandered out hours beforehand in search of information and an ambush of his own awaited him, but whatever soldiers this Lord had in store for him was no match; he sliced off the head of the droid and claimed it for himself, whatever was in those databanks must had been of some worth, he considered.

"Hnh."

Fett watched as the ocular orbs faded as the cable entered with a thunk, and returned to life with an electronic crunch. On the screens ahead of him had been countless memories, from inside and outside the home of their hidden Gul. But to locate him based on these few frazzled memories was to be difficult, he needed more. Someone had known this location, he mused as a blue-hued display of those faint memories extended from his wrist.

 

[Siv Dragr]

H U N T E R

Location: Starbase Yamarro, Lyran IV
Tag: Koda Fett

Follow the addicts and you'll reach the spice. It was an old proverb that Siv had heard repeated many an occasion, though he couldn't remember where he'd heard it first. One of the veteran hunters of Clan Dragr in his childhood, perhaps. Or maybe on the smuggler's moon of Nar Shaada, or in the black markets of Zeltros. Regardless, it was a sentiment that had paid dividends for Siv in hunts past. Now, without any intel from the three Klatooinians he'd killed, he fell back once more on those instincts.

The two most distinctive things about a spice addict were the smell and the trace amounts of dust that seemed to be unwashable from their clothing. Try as one might, the spice was hard to rid from garments for casual users. For addicts, who spent all their credits on their next fix and next to none on their wardrobe and used regularly, the orange powder was obvious. Siv's air was specially filtered through his helmet, primarily to rid his oxygen intake from latent toxins, but it also eliminated his sense of smell. Fortunately, the bounty hunter had installed particulate sensors that could be attuned to a specific molecule, almost a hyper-sense if he knew what he was looking for. And Siv knew what he was looking for.

Picking up on the spice trail, his path was much clearer. The addicts left a clear trail, and he soon found himself out of the main roadways of the Starbase and in the back alleys, with significantly less foot traffic and more furtive civilians casting a suspicious eye at Siv's Mandalorian Armor. Siv only gave each of them a cursory glance, assessing whether or not they were a threat, and when they passed he paid them no further mind. Spice addicts wouldn't bother him if he didn't bother them.

Before him, the spice trail ended where a large depot stood. If there was a more suspect location for a spice lord, then Siv had yet to see it. With near-certainty, he could tell that he'd found the location. Now, he just had to find a way in.
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[Koda Fett]

LYRAN IV
Siv Dragr

He followed the trail, the stored memories revealed much and lead Fett from one foul locale to another on this rock. In the aftermath of whatever visit he afforded the local crime bosses, or self-believed 'bosses' for that matter, a new lead was offered to the Mandalorian as a counter offer to the thread of death - even if it was one more worthless hour before someone else ensured there were no more secrets on the market. But this route was clear now, and whatever befell those so slow to sell their narcotics on these streets were of no concern to him once the axe fell. Just one less worm and his toxins, Fett mused.

"I've scouted it out," the modulated voice cut into the silence, his armoured frame sat in an all too lazied stance on the roof above Siv. His blaster rest in his hands as if a child of his own, cradled with care; one limb rest off the ledge as the other held him in place. "He's bolstered his forces, an army inside."

Fett was content to wait until the stars came out and the men fell asleep, whatever soldiers remained were tired and easier marks then; easier than whatever a battle with some Mandalorian was bound to be, and no matter all his confidence that told him he was to be the victor, a man with so few allies and more enemies to poke a stick at never needed to make more of the latter.

He wondered as he stared his T-visor into Siv's own, had the Mandalorian been able to recognise him from the armour alone? It was a mixed result, in most cases with others, he found - some remembered the colours, the scratches and battered bruises, even the stride and knew it was Fett in an instant whilst others saw a Mandalorian and no more than that.

"Let's cut a deal."

 

[Siv Dragr]

H U N T E R

Location: Starbase Yamarro, Lyran IV
Tag: Koda Fett

The sudden voice startled Siv, and he spun instantly to meet it, his right hand falling to his holstered blaster. It was a move driven by instinct and repeated history of ambush; the Bounty Hunter knew that whoever beat the other to the draw would win the gunfight nine times out of ten. And whoever had approached him from the back had an instant advantage in that.

But, Siv stopped just short of drawing his weapon. The casual tone did not indicate immediate danger, though it could be a tactic used to disarm him all the same. Taking a chance, he let his helmet's gaze track upwards to where the voice was coming from. . . to see what seemed to be an almost mirrorlike reflection of himself. But despite the similar inherent design aspects of Mandalorian armor, this one was colored in different paints and pockmarked with scratches mismatching from Siv's own.

"They didn't tell me another Karjr was on the job," Siv said shortly, his hand inching slowly away from the holstered pistol. The typical protocol involved a Karjr informing another that they were after the same target, encouraging cooperation, and acting as a preventive measure should two hunts collide and fail. He ignored the phrasing of the Mandalorian's suggestion, though it was odd; as much as Siv didn't like it, there was a protocol too for sharing rewards. The other Karjr should know that too, although there was always the possibility he was new to the guild.

Not nearly enough credits were involved that a half-cut would fairly compensate Siv, but he was too far into this mission to abandon it. At the very least it would cover starfuel back to Kestri, or maybe up north to Hutt Space for a more lucrative contract. "What's your name?" Siv nodded towards the other Mandalorian, relaxing his guard a bit more.
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[Koda Fett]

LYRAN IV
Siv Dragr

Fett remained motionless as the Mandalorian rushed his hand towards his sidearm; even as he remained as still as mere stone, the blaster in his hands carried such lethal intent should Siv have moved but one inch closer. It seemed there was no honour in the fact he had killed more than one armoured Mandalorian before, but it was a boast all the same - wars that had seen their ilk laid low for a reason lost to time.

His helmted head tilted to the side in some bout of confusion, and a silence remained amidst it for a moment more. "I'm not so sure what that is," his answer arrived from above, but all that followed was the shift in his form as he descended with effort and a thud. "Should I be aware of that?" His head movements resembled that of the loft of one's brow, even if concealed beneath the battered helmet.

"I'm Fett." He failed to recall those that shared that name that still drew breath, if there were those that did in the Enclave or elsewhere. It mattered not. His colour scheme and name was often more than one needed to deduce who he was. But that was reserved for those that had a reason to, and that reason was often fear. Siv had no such cause. "Koda Fett. You're who?"

 

[Siv Dragr]

H U N T E R

Location: Starbase Yamarro, Lyran IV
Tag: Koda Fett

Siv felt a jolt of adrenaline rush through his system, and his blaster hand twitched impulsively when the other hunter introduced himself. The armor had been unfamiliar, but any self-respecting Bounty Hunter around for the past decade knew the infamous Koda Fett. And Siv knew for certain that the man was not on any Karjr roster.

That meant they were in direct competition. The paradigm that he had supposed existed was now shattered.

He fought to reign in his impulse to stun the man and make off for his target as quickly as possible. He knew that the Mandalorian was a legendary fighter, and even if Siv could prevail, it would waste precious time. Besides, Koda did not seem to be angling at attacking Siv; he'd mentioned cutting a deal between the two. Forcing himself to swallow, he slowly relaxed his right hand and replied, "I'm Siv. . . Dragr. And your name, I know it."

Under his helmet, his mouth was halfway between pursed lips and gritted teeth. This felt wrong, but if Fett was willing to work together, it meant that Siv would still get a cut, than risk walking away with nothing. "Nevermind. What sort of deal did you have in mind?"
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[Koda Fett]

LYRAN IV
Siv Dragr

He witnessed the twitch, and it burned both self-satisfaction and shame into him at once. His career had been rife with infamous incidents that had seen him rise in fame and fear, a beloved name to those that had been able to afford his services on a basis that made the idea of them as foes a most foolish one. In the Mandalorians, there was a mixed reaction; between his status as a hunter of man and then that of a Mandalorian, he was celebrated and shunned. It was his own fault, a refusal to follow the Resol'nare or the new Catechisms had seen it so.

Fett believed in his own code, in himself, and in that he was content.

His involvement with the Sith was no secret, and that no doubt earned the ire of Siv. It was business in the end, it was all it had ever been, but his so-called 'cousins' on Kestri suffered at their hands. Fett shielded whatever emotions he felt on the matter, his armour was a shell that concealed all factors of himself. It was a lead he had over others in his field, one he refused to ever lose.

"You and me, we take him out. Better as two." He thumbed over his shoulder towards the armoured structure, whether he believed it or not hardly mattered. "I need the credits," a more sincere turn had been taken in his voice, even if the same indifferent callousness remained somewhat, "In the hold of the Spear III, there's a crate of old beskar. Take it to Kestri, do whatever, I don't care. It's of no use to me."

 

[Siv Dragr]

H U N T E R

Location: Starbase Yamarro, Lyran IV
Tag: Koda Fett

"Hmph," Siv verbalized as he considered the offer. It was an unexpectedly generous one. Siv didn't need any beskar himself -- he was fortunate enough to have inherited his own beskar cuirass from his Clan, before the genocide. It was one of the relics he had of Clan Dragr. He wouldn't be able to sell the beskar at the Enclave either, but there were certain incentives in place for returning Mandalorian Iron to the Mandalorian People, otherwise, there would be hoarders. But Koda Fett would not know that. "Fine. I'll take the beskar, but I'll take a thirty-percent cut too. Beskar won't make my ship fly."

Siv didn't have anything morally against the bounty hunter. He hated Sith with every fiber of his body, but he knew that desperation in lead times leads to desperate measures, and didn't hold Koda Fett's past actions against him, so long as he wasn't hunting Mandalorians in the present day. And the offer of beskar almost had the air of restitution about it; perhaps the bounty hunter veteran was starting to go soft in his core.

"You had any plan for this target of ours?" Siv asked, folding his arms. "I prefer to keep things clean."
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