Private Going On a Pyke Hunt

[Jon Dromon]

Let them pass, the self-made boss of this op said, so Jon let them pass. Only four, however. He was ready to deal with them when the occasion rose for their attention. It did the next moment. Then again, this was why you had to be explicit in your communication.

Happy hunting, the Trandoshan said. Rissk was beneath the Duros but not beneath him. Ultimately all three bounty hunters were on the same page as far as getting paid went. If they weren’t? Jon Dromon would find out and have a conversation with whoever was getting the higher wage.

Four targets to his left. They weren’t Mandalorians. Just regular grunts. Easy pickings from above. Two other thugs behind the intended target. Four more with Fol Mol amounted to two Pykes and two Mandalorians.

“They’re in position, go!”

Time to strike.

So Jon Dromon struck from above.

For the four enemies at his left and past the ambush, that meant their backs were already turned. They also did not need to be kept alive. Jon tossed a grenade their way before popping multiple shots off. They proved true, taking out two tangos in an instant. His grenade would explode and take care of the others as he trained his attention below to support Rissk’s position.

Pal Veda Rissk

 

[Rissk]

“They’re in position, go!”

Go time, Rissk. Earn your place.

The squad of hired guns had their attention turned up and away when Rissk stepped around his crate, his blaster shotgun cradled at his hip. Folsite and his four closest guards were right there.

"Hey."

The Trandoshan was a bad shot. But at this range, with this weapon? Missing would be a miracle.

A blast of clustered stun bolts peppered the nearest Pyke, knocking him to the adjacent wall. Most of his second shot caught the head of the other, cracking their mask back as they fell. But before he could line up a blast on Folsite himself, one of the armored Mandalorians turned, and rushed him, tackling the scrappy Trandoshan back into the crates he'd been hiding behind.

The two of them disappeared into the obscurity of the adjacent hallway, leaving their target with only one Mandalorian in his immediate vicinity.

Their surprise attack was successful... but it could only go downhill from here.

- Pal Veda - Jon Dromon -

 

[Pal Veda]

Explosions. Explosions! Had these idiots never heard of not killing the target? Folsite was worth twice as much if they brought him in alive.

One of the Mandos took the Trandoshan out of sight. A battle of size versus skill that he was sad to miss. Jon was fairing a little better dealing with the four Pykes up front. But Folsite and the second merc were retreating, the Mando covering while his boss yelled orders into a comm. Pal couldn’t hear the conversation over the chaos, but he didn’t need to. Certainly scrambling more of his men to move from the dock to his position for protection.

Rather than engage the Mandalorian directly, Pal waited on them to approach the cross section. FWOOM! The concussive blast went off, knocking him into the adjacent wall. Pal fired a couple of shots while the merc was stunned, but both bounced off. Beskar? Seriously? New plan. He holstered his blaster and rushed his opponent, banging his helmet into the durasteel wall of the building. The Mando fell to the ground.

”Long time, no see, Folsite,” Pal said, turning to the Pyke.

“I figured you would be dead by now,” he replied, no panic in his voice.

”Not yet.” Pal grinned and went for his blaster, but before he could draw it, he was pulled to the ground by a grappling hook fired from the downed Mando. He quickly regained his stance, moving from all fours to an offensive position and kicking the merc in the head. But Folsite was on the move, and reinforcements were on the way.

Kriff! “In pursuit, heading back toward the dock,” he shouted into the comm.

———
Jon Dromon Rissk

 

[Jon Dromon]

With the four escorts on his left and past the ambush, they dropped dead from Jon’s blaster shots and the grenade he threw their way. Fortunately he wasn’t dumb enough to chuck it within range of his true target when it came to the explosion. It was also a deterrent. Folsite would not be running toward an explosion to escape and the aftermath of the impact had toppled over containers and dumpsters within the alleyway that would further hinder that plan.

To retreat, Folsite would obviously be better off turning back around and heading the way he came in, but such was the purpose of this ambush. You cut off your target’s exits, sandwiched them in, funneled him where you wanted, struck from above and at opposite ends, but only stunning his guardians was something that was lost on Jon. The Duros didn’t want to risk anyone getting back up who wasn’t important to the payment so he thought they were better off dead.

With the number of their opponents quickly dwindling, it was time to deal with the Mandalorians and capture their target. However, the Trandoshan was dueling one Mandalorian and the Human was too busy talking to their target to capture him. Amateur move.

This job was already being botched. With nobody covering the exit to the docks, Folsite was heading straight for them. “I’m on it,” Jon commed to his companions. He didn’t know what happened to Rissk but it didn’t matter at the moment.

Keeping his vantage, Jon hopped across platforms for the docks to reposition and keep above the reinforcements. It would be up to Pal to actually catch up to the target on foot. Jon lined up a shot and took it. His bolt soared toward Folsite to strike him in the back. Fortunately it was easy to quickly switch his weapon from lethal to stun and he wouldn’t miss from this distance.

“I missed the target.”

That was just because a panicked civilian got caught in between and fell unconscious. Then Folsite got behind his reinforcements so Jon changed targets, switched from stun to lethal, and started picking them off.

Pal Veda Rissk

 

[Rissk]

Youthful enthusiasm and a biological strength advantage had nothing on good-ol'-fashioned experience.

That's what all his manuals would tell him. And so far, Rissk was inclined to agree.

"Ow! Ow!" The young hunter contorted his arm at an odd angle, to avoid having his wrist snapped. The Mando had pounced on him on the ground, twisting his fingers. Rissk just barely got his other hand up in time, palming the man's helmet, and pushing.

The Mandalorian rocked off-balance, giving Rissk just enough time to scramble to his feet. He wouldn't be able to beat this foe one-on-one... unless...

The mercenary didnt give Rissk much time to mull it over, before closing the distance again with a knife. The Trandoshan kept inching back, using his longer reach to ward off the attacks. The armored enemy was getting braver, the more he judged the young hunter's inexperience. Nine times out of ten, the Mando comes out on top.

But Rissk knew what he needed to do to win.

It only took three moves, in the end. The Trandoshan stepped into his opponent's thrust, using the opportunity to grab the man's hand. Then, surprisingly unfazed by the pain, he perked the man's elbow to the side, snapping it like a dry sapling. Finally he put a foot on the Mandalorian's knee, and pushed down, splintering that, too.

The man cried out, falling to the side, before attempting to stand up again. Rissk left the knife in his chest, finally waddling slowly back to the action. His vision had started going blurry... it was obvious he wouldn't be much help to Jon or Pal from here on out...

But he would still give it his all.

- Pal Veda - Jon Dromon -

 

[Pal Veda]

Did Veda botch the job? No. Would he admit it if he had? Hell no. This kind of bantha poodoo happened all the time in this profession. It’s what made it fun.

Folsite Mol was a middle aged Pyke. A lanky species known more for their spice use than their speed. Veda wasn’t exactly a spring chicken, but he had no trouble keeping up with the target. That is until a civilian caught in the crossfire took a stun blast from above and fell directly into his path, nearly knocking him over. Veda pushed him out of the way and took aim with his own blaster just as Folsite’s remaining footsoldiers started pouring out of the docking bay to meet him.

Pew pew! Veda fired at the henchmen, downing one, as the rest took cover and pulled Folsite into safety. Cover wasn’t the worst idea for Veda, either, but he didn’t have a lot of options. A large durasteel trash can lining one of the walls was his best bet for now.

The good news — the target and his lackeys were momentarily stalled out while they reassessed the situation. The bad news — the bounty hunters were still outnumbered and no longer had the element of surprise.

Veda had decent awareness of where Dromon had ended up, knowing when he said he “missed,” he really meant he stunned the person that Veda crashed into moments earlier. “Rissk,” he yelled into the comm, “where are you?” He hadn’t seen the Trandoshan since he got tangled up with the Mando. “You still alive out there?”

———
Jon Dromon Rissk

 

[Jon Dromon]

Heads were popped left and right along with chests as his targets ended up dead and Jon Dromon didn’t really give a shit about them to begin with. Quite frankly he didn’t understand why some within his line of employment were so prickly about not killing those who get in their way.

Ultimately, when it came to the authorities eventually closing in on their position, given that this station wasn’t famous for its legitimate entities to begin with, and didn’t boast top notch security, the Duros would explain things away that he was a licensed bounty hunter who acted in self-defense trying to get his target, an unscrupulous Pyke, and nobody liked Pykes.

Whatever happened, this was one bounty hunter who was determined to catch his target one way or the other. Only, under the circumstances, it was a challenge to do so alone. Fortunately he had Pal Veda to help capture Folsite Mol. The other? That Trandoshan? Well where the hell was he, anyhow?

“I’m keeping the target suppressed,” Jon said into his comm to both men as his blaster shifted between his enemies and his bounty hiding behind a container. “The Mol is in cover but he isn’t going anywhere.” At the moment Dromon’s best bet was to keep the lead Pyke from getting back to his ship so that the hunter’s allies could close in.

“Trandoshan. Hope you finished dancing with that Mandalorian. We need you up here.” As a distraction before you bleed to death or whatever works best for you. In the end, the Duros was going to get this piece of shit Pyke dead or alive and if one of his allies died than that just meant more credits to line his pocket.

Pal Veda Rissk

 

[Rissk]

“Rissk, where are you? You still alive out there?”

Rissk fumbled with his comms a moment. Man, he was dizzy. "Mm? Yeah, yeah."

“Trandoshan. Hope you finished dancing with that Mandalorian. We need you up here.”

"'m comin'. Jussst... leakin', a li'l..." Rissk tried to refocus, but that was really hard, for some reason. Stumbling towards the sounds of blaster fire, the Trandoshan finally came within view. They criminals were trying to shuffle back towards their ship. If the bounty hunters couldn't stop them... Folsite was good as gone. The Pyke was pinned down for now...

Rissk pressed himself against a discarded crate. Nobody had seen him arrive. He pressed on his comms, his voice still slurry. "Here. Wh-what should I do?" How was he supposed to break this stalemate?

- Pal Veda - Jon Dromon -

 

[Pal Veda]

Here? Where? Veda looked around, or as around as he could look from behind cover with blaster fire ringing out around him. He found the Trandoshan. That ain’t good. “Jon,” he called into the comm, “Rissk is . . . Well . . . He has a knife sticking out of his chest.”

Now this is what you call a fork in the road. It’s an opportunity for a man to prove who he is as a person. Does he leave his partner to die in pursuit of a quick buck? Or does he give up the score to go to the aid of a young hunter he just met for this job? Maybe there was a third option.

“Just stay alive, kid,” Veda instructed him. “And don’t shoot my droid when you see him!”

He switched channels and barked commands to his BB unit back in his ship. “Send B1 with a med kit. We’re outside the main dock.“

Beep boop!

”No, you aren’t that lucky. It’s the new guy. Look for the Trandoshan gushing green blood everywhere.”

Beep whirrrr!

“I don’t have time for this, just do it!”

Veda cut off his astromech and switched back to the hunters’ comm channel. The Rubicon was sitting in the smaller docking bay adjacent to the main one. He knew only the primary bay could hold Folsite’s yacht, and he didn’t want them to spot his ship and get spooked. It would take the clunky B1 unit a few minutes to make it to Rissk with the med kit, but he at least had a chance.

Enough of this! Veda fired a few blind shots around the corner of the trash bin to hopefully create a second of clearance, then he spun out and tossed a frag at the group of Pykes.

BOOM!


———
Jon Dromon Rissk

 

[Jon Dromon]

Rissk had a knife sticking out of his chest? That was problematic and definitely a risk for this bounty hunter outfit. “Well…” At a loss for words, given he was no medic, Jon Dromon just didn’t know what to suggest at the moment. “Pull it out or somethin'.” If that killed him then oh well. A wounded Trandoshan wasn’t much help to begin with under the circumstances.

Just then, someone chucked a grenade. That someone was none other than Pal Veda. Granted, Jon Dromon didn’t have an objection against grenades given the case he had since presented earlier. However, when it came to taking their target in dead or alive, he just hoped the grenade wasn’t misplaced.

“That’s one way to thin the herd,” the Duros congratulated the Human. “Throwin’ in unison. Smoke grenade up and away.” At that, Jon launched his own smoke grenade to disorient Folsite Mol and those already distracted by the greater explosion from his partner.

Pal Veda Rissk

 

[Rissk]

His partners seemed concerned. What? Just because of a little knife? Rissk had the wherewithal to be offended, despite his heavy bleeding. "'sss not that bad," he tried to protest, having lost a little of his youthful energy. "I can still help."

Rissk pushed his weight against his cover, letting it support him. He didn't know if he could help, honestly. But he had to try. The Trandoshan had promised not to let them down, and he wasn't about to sit back, and wait for help when he'd barely done anything yet.

A series of explosions caught his attention. Frag grenade, into a smoke grenade. He heard the screams and shouts of alarm from the Pykes, and gave himself a savage little smile. Now was his chance to do something.

"Goin' in!" Under the cover of smoke, Rissk charged out of cover, and into the dark cloud. He raised his shotgun, his vision swimming a moment. But he was confident.

He was T'doshok. He could see into the infrared. He could see them.

He fired his blaster shotgun into the smoke, entirely, recklessly fearless.

- Pal Veda - Jon Dromon -

 

[Pal Veda]

“Well, if you’re gonna die, that’s one way to do it,” Veda muttered to himself, watching the young lizardoid run straight into the smokey confusion. The blaster shots that followed sounded like they came from a shotgun, but he couldn’t see through the haze to be sure. Then it dawned on him. Infrared vision. Maybe he’s smarter than he looks. Or maybe he’s lost half his blood.

Veda knew the frag had been reckless — it had only been minutes since he was cursing Dromon for doing the same — but he had needed to change the status quo. Luckily, it did just that. Now with the green tank thinning the herd further, Veda moved from cover with the hope of coming around from the side. “Jon, can you flank them from up there?” he asked through the comm. Maybe they could cut off the escape route to the yacht.

As Veda made his move, one of the Pykes escaped the fog, running frantically and blindly away from Rissk. He and Veda saw each other at the same time, but the ole smuggler was faster on the draw with his blaster pistol than the lanky alien with his rifle. Pew Pew! Another one down. He didn’t stop to celebrate, despite how perfect his shot placement had been, but instead continued cutting his angle for a better attack position — if there was anything left when Rissk finished with them. Just don’t kill Fol Mol!

———
Jon Dromon Rissk

 

[Jon Dromon]

There he was, Jon Dromon, a Duros who had advantage with his vantage and, in his position, it would be difficult for bolts to hit him what with a sheet of metal beneath his weapon protecting him. A barricade at the railing. Maybe they’d aim for his head but he wouldn’t let them do so. No, from this distance, it was his aim to keep his target pinned and take out his protection.

Then the Trandoshan rushed in and, to be honest, Jon Dromon found it to be absolutely hilarious—but also pretty kriffing awesome. Trust a Trandoshan to be fearless when charging into the fray. Granted, at the end of the day, he was just another distraction for those who lived from this shindig long enough to get paid.

Grenades? They were the name of the game.

“Jon, can you flank them from up there?”

“I got you and got them in the dust, bub.”

A shot went off. It was Veda as he caught one of the Pykes trying to run. Then another shot went off. It was from Jon Dromon as he targeted his target, another one of his target’s protectors, if not the true target.

What the heck that meant? It meant the target, Folsite Mol, was the only one left running for the ship.

“I can’t see through the haze,” Jon communicated to his partners. “Too much smoke.” It wasn’t a bad move from Veda to throw the grenade though. “Somebody take him down but not out. If you don’t, I’ll try to pop his legs before he boards his ship again.” Dromon promised.

Pal Veda Rissk

 

[Rissk]

He wasn't called Rissk for nothing.

The flashes of stun shot punctuated the smoke, discharges from the Trandoshan's blaster shotgun. It was an unintended bit of synergy from the hunters, and it paid off big. He went in to hit them where they couldn't hide, and when they tried to run, they were flushed out for the others.

Soon enough, there was only one smudge of heat left. Their target.

Rissk pointed his shotgun, then hissed in annoyance as he realized it was empty. Then, his hiss slurred into indistinct lizard noises as the world got spinny. He had lost a lot of blood, hadn't he?

The Trandoshan forced himself to move, stumbling out of the smoke as much as he could. Then, he pointed to a murky section of the miasma, trying to get his fellow hunters' attention. "There!" he coughed out, before falling to his knees.

- Pal Veda - Jon Dromon -

 

[Pal Veda]

Veda watched Rissk crawling around on his knees, pointing through the smoke. Taking the cue, he continued around the side then caught sight of Folsite running toward his yacht. Not today! He fired two shots at the target’s feet, causing him to stumble backwards in surprise.

“The jig’s up,” Veda said as he approached. He kept his weapon leveled at the Pyke’s head, but he admittedly flipped the switch to stun just in case. “Your men are down, and you’re too damn slow to outrun this blaster.“

Folsite seethed, visibly angry and frustrated. “I should have killed you,” he retorted, followed by a string of Pyke curses. “You’re nothing but a piece of Sith smuggler!”

”Maybe. Or maybe you shouldn’t have killed Xican. Either way, your mistake.” Veda smirked at his target, but he tried to keep his bravado somewhat in check, knowing Folsite may have another trick up his sleeve, and knowing Rissk was bleeding out just meters away. “And now, you’re comin’ with us, and we’re collectin’ that one hundred thousand credit bounty your family put on that ugly head of yours.”



———
Rissk Jon Dromon

 

[Jon Dromon]

Despite the haze in his way, Jon stayed up top at his vantage, keeping his scope trained on the environment below his position. He noticed the Trandoshan was wounded but breathing. The next moment, the Human headed over to the Pyke and had him dead or alive. However, as expected, the Pyke really did have another trick up his sleeve. Only he didn't realize that a hunter was still above his head as a figure emerged from behind Pal's position.

-PHWOM!-

Dromon launched a bolt from his rifle. It wasn't set to stun. It hit the sniper in the head before he could squeeze the trigger and take out Pal Veda. "Got 'im." The Duros decided to clarify. "Sharpshooter on the roof. There was one, rather. I think that does it. Hook him and book him." At that, Jon was on the move to regroup with his crew.

Pal Veda Rissk

 

[Rissk]

Pal shot into action as Rissk pointed, but the inexperienced hunter didn't have it in him to turn his head to watch, instead taking a knee, along with a few labored breaths.

He'd pushed himself hard. Maybe harder than he should've, and it was showing. His skin had changed to a muted, sickly green, and the muscles in his arms were spasming with overexertion. He didn't quite hear the emotionally-charged conversation between the Human and the Pyke, nor did he fully understand the sound of one last sniper shot, but as he fell on his butt, and turned to see Veda with their target, a weak smile pulled at his jaws.

"Woo~," he said, voice shaky. The knife was still buried in his chest- something in the back of his head told him it'd be bad to take it out now. "Good hussstle, team. You guys are... something else." He shifted his body weight, as if he were trying to stand, but found he couldn't.

"I'll just... catch my breath a sec."

- Pal Veda - Jon Dromon -

 

[Pal Veda]

Folesite Mol was not a man to just give up. With Veda momentarily distracted by Dromon’s shot at the sniper, the Pyke turned and ran. Or tried to. He made it about three steps before BWRRRHM! Veda hit him with a stun blast and watched the lanky body fall to the ground without a bit of dignity or grace. “Kriff!“ Now he’d have to carry him. But the chase was over and the target was detained.

Veda nodded to Dromon as he approached, an unspoken thank you for tagging the sharpshooter on the roof. “Easy money,” he joked, wiping a few beads of sweat from his forehead. With the Duros to cover him, Veda bent down and applied electro-restraints to Folesite’s forearms and ankles. He wouldn’t be running off again.

About that time, an old B1 unit approached the group with its blaster rifle slung over its shoulder, its hands instead occupied with a medical kit. “Took you long enough,” he commented to his droid.

”Roger, Roger!”

”It ain’t for me,” he reassured B1, “it’s for that Trandoshan sitting on his ass over there. I’ll take that, and you take this.” Veda took the med kit from the battle droid’s hands and walked toward Rissk, while B1 grabbed Folsite by his feet and drug his limp body across the ground behind him.

“Alright kid, I ain’t a med droid, but my unofficial diagnosis is there’s a giant viboknife stuck through your chest.“ Veda turned to the Duros and asked, “Jon, you got any experience pullin’ knives out rather than stickin‘ ‘em in?” This was a bit outside the ole smuggler’s specialty. He wondered if the Snatch had a doctor in the house.

———
Jon Dromon Rissk

 

[Jon Dromon]

Something else. The Trandoshan had congratulated. Then he went to catch his breath a sec. Honestly he could die for all Jon Dromon cared. It would inevitably mean more payment for him in the end. Though, the Trando had at least proven to be more than a distraction for their enemies.

Veda, however, had proven his caliber by taking their target in alive instead of dead. The former meant more payment than the latter. Except the Duros hadn’t expected the Human to ask him about pulling knives out rather than pushing them in. Shit happens?

“Nope,” Jon admitted as he lit a cigarra between his lips. “Sure there’s more than one shady medic round these corners, though. Take your pick.” He shrugged. “I’ll be in the ship.”

At that, Dromon headed back and didn’t look back. He didn’t like or dislike these guys he worked with. He was indifferent. To show anything more or less, even resentment, would be the same as betraying his own character.

Instead, he would simply wait with his bounty. Worst came to worst, the Duros would be down one Human and one Trandoshan. That simply meant he would take their share of the credits and do this all over again some other day. Shit happens.

[EXIT JON DROMON]

Pal Veda Rissk

 

[Rissk]

“Alright kid, I ain’t a med droid, but my unofficial diagnosis is there’s a giant viboknife stuck through your chest.“

"Oh, yeah." Rissk smirked, his expression muted and pale. "And here I wasss thinking I'd caught a cold."

Rissk looked to the grizzled Duros as Pal asked for extra assistance, and felt a little stung as the other bounty hunter turned his back, entirely unconcerned by the scene. He looked down, and hint of merriment suddenly absent from his face. Did he do something wrong?

"Um..." The Trandoshan stared ahead, past Pal, a frown catching his face. "How'd I do? Really?"

- Pal Veda -