Old Dogs

[Davon Karr]

[OOC Note: Going to portray why Davon dons his armour again as dev for it. I'll only touch on forging, seeing as this was in the distant past.]


The crisp rap on the frosted glass of his door roused Davon from his reverie. The chair groaned as he shifted his bulk forwards, attempting to look more attentive with his elbows on his desk.

“Come in,” he called.

The secretary - who he now had to share with two other members of management for ‘budget reasons’ - poked his head around the door.

“They're here, meeting room six.”

“Thank you Price” Davon replied before sighing. The manufacturing conglomerate they now all worked for had sent a range of management-types, along with their associated finance gurus, to conduct the end of year review a month early. It was all likely linked to a two percent drop in production through the mid quarter. That was caused by a failure in a product he’d recommended they avoid and had laid that out clear in his reports. Still, none of it boded well.

 

[Davon Karr]

Sliding his datapad from his desk, he pushed himself up from his chair and followed Price out of the room. He was nearing the turn to the corridor that had the meeting rooms branching off it when he heard someone call his name softly.

Cherl was striding after him, a long length of fabric in her hand. “You nearly forgot....again.”

Davon lifted his hand up, but before he could protest his granddaughter had hoiked up his collar and flung the tie around his neck. “I don’t like them,” he grumbled softly.

The corner of her mouth twitched as she straightened it up and pulled his collar down. One of the admin staff here, she’d taken to keeping at least one of his ties in her desk drawer at all times. “It doesn't matter, you have to wear them,” she chided, leaving one hand on his shoulder. The delicate little thing looked lost on the great, grey expanse.

 

[Davon Karr]

Davon brought his own hand up and patted the back of her own, before fiddling with his collar. It was tight around his neck. Always a problem getting shirts that were broad enough, without them looking like sheets around his waist. His hand, though most of the callouses had faded with age, looked dark and weathered compared to hers.

“Thank you,” he rumbled, giving her a warm smile before turning and striding after Price. Cherl was one of two blood relatives who worked on the site and there was another by marriage. Though if he was reading the way his granddaughter acted around their new Technical Director he might end up with another relative here. Time to think on that later, right now it was time to face the wolves.

 

[Davon Karr]

Stahl was exactly where Davon expected to find him. As he walked up the path he waved to his husband who was sat on the patio, enjoying the evening sun. With a long pony tail of white hair across one shoulder, Stahl managed to always look more neat than Davon. He also tended to look younger, less scars pulled awkwardly by aging flesh. Not that Davon would admit as such.

“Bad day? Stahl asked.

“That obvious?” Davon asked, huffing as he meandered up the path and stairs.

Stahl’s blue eyes twinkled, a look of amusement twisting his lips. “You're scowling,” he stated plainly. “Come on, have a seat,” he said, patting the chair next to his.

Davon sighed, reaching up with both hands and pulling his tie free with a little side to side wiggle. He undid a couple of shirt buttons too. As he turned to sit down, he slipped his jacket off for good measure, catching a fingernail on his braces. It was warm enough here in the sun, so he laid it over the back of the chair.

 

[Davon Karr]

Stahl leant forwards and reached under the bench. Davon heard a clink and a smile spread from his lips to the deep lines that framed his eyes. A golden bottle of ale emerged, droplets of condensation gliding over its curves.

“Best husband,” Davon said quietly, twisting the cap off. The bitter taste, balanced by fruity hops was a welcome thing. His broad chest seemed to deflate as he sighed and settled onto the bench, leaning one arm across the back behind Stahl.

“The meeting didn’t go well then?”

“Two from two.”

“If you hate them that much then just retire,” Stahl said, shaking his head with an affectionate look.

“Ah but they want me out!” Davon complained.

“So, you both want the same thing…”

“But for the wrong reasons. They want to parachute some kids in from offworld. They’ll have heads full of nonsense and will squeeze the workers for their bonus. Conditions will go down the pan for everyone working for me now.”

“So what’s the endgame?”

“Outlive them?” Davon offered tentatively, smiling now. Weighed down from its day’s work, Mirgoshir hung low. That skyline had changed over the years. Industry had boomed since the Gulag plague died out. Those slender fingers that cast such long shadows in the evening were both beautiful and repugnant at the same time. There was so much less green in the city than when he’d been a boy.

 

[Davon Karr]

“Hah!” Stahl replied, before falling silent. There was a contemplative look on his face. “You know, retirement can get pretty dull on your own.”

Davon tapped his fingers on the armrest and fidgeted where he sat. It had been this way for a long time. Stahl was perpetually waiting for him, no matter which warpath Davon found himself on. “Yeah,” was all he said, tipping his beer back again. Silence fell for a few moments and it wasn’t a comfortable one.

“Alright,” Davon said. “I’ll wait for this current steaming turd to blow over and then see what I can do to choose someone to take over for me. I think that might still be on the contract, but I’ll need to do it quietly before they realise what I’m doing. Can’t leave you as a play toy for the great grand tots on your own.”

 

[Davon Karr]

“Ah I do love ‘em though,” Stahl asked. His expression became unusually stuff. Davon could see he was keeping something to himself. “Gelda and Sirla came past today.”

Ah, that would be it. “They didn’t stay?”

“You know they won’t.”

“I’m not that bad.”

“Last time you agreed not to bring it up and within an hour what did you do?”

“Bring up the fact that they all turned their back on their heritage,” Davon said slowly, taking his admonishment. “But now they sneak past when they know I’m at work?”

“Well they like me. Everyone likes me.”

“Ass.”

“Grumpy old codger.”

“Ouch,” Davon replied. He chuckled, took another swig of beer and watched the sun continue its creep towards the city.

 

[Davon Karr]

“Just try and soften up around them. Maybe give them a cool in a few days and invite them over yourself. They can see how tense you get. Relax, it's their choice how they live their lives.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Davon said, leaning forwards and allowing his half empty bottle to dangle between his knees. “You’ve always made me a better me you know.”

“No, I’m just not afraid to point out when you’re being an ass.”

“Fair...you ever miss what things were like?”

“What, when you were pretty?”

“When the Galaxy was small. You know, back before we even met. The only space travel was to the local systems, maybe the odd convoy to Mandalore.”

Stahl seemed to consider this for a few moments. “I think the Galaxy seemed bigger back then. We just couldn’t afford to see any of it. I mean, I never expected to see a galactic Holonet again. I love my hologames. And that week we spent on Zeltros?”

“My back still hurts from that.”

“Suck it up, it’s been fifteen years. But yeah, I think I mostly prefer how things are, but I preferred how Agamar was then. The community isn’t what it was.”

 

[Davon Karr]

Silence - the comfortable kind - descended over the pair. They were often content to sit in peaceful silence together. However it wasn’t to be this evening.

“We going to the Bowish’s tonight?” Davon asked. They often played sabacc with the pair and he was fairly certain they had games on tonight.

“Ah crap, I need to go get some credit chits from the bank,” Stahl explained. “I sat down, it was warm…”

“Understandable.”

“I’ll wander down to the bank now.”

“They’re still open?” Davon asked.

“Yeah the IGBC keep all their places open near constantly now. Come the intergalactic business, come the banking roaches!” Stahl said with a laugh.

“We used to have a better class of roach.”

“No they were just local roaches.”

“Fair,” Davon acknowledged with an incline of his head. “I’ll come along…” he said, groaning as he started to raise his bulk.

“No, no, it’s fine. You’ve had a long day and I need to stretch the legs. I’ll be back in a few,” Stahl replied, waving him back towards his chair. Gratefully, Davon sat back down, the chair creaking quietly. Stahl left him with a kiss on the cheek and headed back down the garden path.

 

[Davon Karr]

“Oh there you are!” Stahl called. He emerged through the skeletal remains of a duracrete building. Metal poles that had once reinforced the structure stuck out at odd angles and he ducked under several. Both hands came up and with a twist he removed his bright orange helm, shaking out his long hair before holding the T-shaped visor under his arm. With the exception of a small scar under his right eye his face was smooth and unblemished, his hair a deep black instead of grey.

Davon was sat on the smouldering remains of a main battle tank. His helm was on the hull beneath him whilst he eat something from a blue packet. “Hey Stahl, where did we lose you?” He called. His armour was freshly forged, courtesy of the new beskar mines that had opened up on Mandalore. Not that long ago everyone had stuck to durasteel, or armorplast. Whilst mandalorian iron hadn't been mined in a long time, the metallurgical processes involved had been passed down through the generations.

“We got bogged down two clicks from the LZ. Had to wait for armour to move up. I’m assuming you sat on that tank until it surrendered?”

“Well, they didn’t see me coming,” Davon laughed. “They’ve tripping over themselves running away now, Gruk has taken his boys to give chase.”

 

[Davon Karr]

“A good fight,” Stahl agreed.

“I’m sure it looked good from where you were cowering from mortar fire!” Davon laughed. In his new armour he looked around the size of a tank himself. There were only a few dings in the chestplate, the fresh coat of forest green and burgundy anodisation still bright and clean. Unlike many mandalorians he had no jetpack and didn't have an array of gadgets strapped to his wrists. He preferred his feet on the ground, beskad in hand. Heavy armour to close on the enemy, arms free to strike swiftly.

Stahl shrugged the jibe off. Instead he looked for something to sit on. He had to admit the tank looked about the best bet. “What is that you’re eating?”

Davon brought the back of the packet up and peered at it curiously. “Meat.”

“What kind?”

“Meat,” he declared. A high pitched whine followed. A dull crash in the distance reverberated around them. It was followed by three more in quick succession.

“I do say, it looks like they’ve developed a spine!” Stahl laughed.

Devon tipped out the remains of the packet, only vaguely grimacing as he swallowed it down. He re-affixed his helm and then picked up his great, wickedly curved beskad and slid it into his holster.

 

[Davon Karr]

Awareness slowly returned to Davon. His chin had fallen onto his chest. Eyes slowly opened to the sight of his beer bottle on the floor between his feet. As was common, the sounds of battle followed him from his dreams into the waking world.

He balled his right hand into a fist and idly scratched the back of it. His skin seemed so loose on his bones now. Davon suddenly stopped scratching. Normally those echoes that followed the memories faded by now. He looked up. Lights flashed across those clouds that hung low in the evening sky. These weren’t dreams. There was a fight going on. Adjusting his braces first, Davon then unbuttoned his shirt cuffs and rolled his sleeves up.

Half-awake he stood up from the bench and started down the garden path. All he thought of was that the sounds of battle were coming from the centre - where Stahl had been headed. As he walked briskly down the street his head started to catch up. He hadn’t brought a weapon, or even checked the news. Too late now, he decided. He’d find somewhere to get a view of what was happening and then head back for home. There wasn’t a military base for a long distance. If a force had come this far, they had a straight run to the main city forty kilometres ahead. However, there were an awful lot of retired commandos around these parts. A Mandalorian never really retired. They just ran out of wars they wanted to fight. Davon muttered a string of obscenities as he pressed on.

 

[Davon Karr]

Deciding to turn off the main street he headed down a narrow corridor between two buildings. Old bright walls stood high on either side of him and for the moment the noises of battle were hushed.

Someone turned into the passage from the other end. Mandalorian, fully armoured. Black armour. How could Death Watch have come this far? They shouldn't be this deep in the territory of the United Clans?

The soldier raised his blaster. Davon raised his arms. “Hey, hey, I’m unarmed here!” He called. He kept his position, letting the soldier come to him. With his armour and Davon’s sheer size there would barely be room for them to pass each other.

“Move aside,” called the obsidian-clad soldier.

Davon raised his hands higher and shifted towards the left of the corridor a few inches. “Of course,” he said, doing his best to look frightened. The fool lowered his blaster. As the space between them vanished Davon moved with surprising speed for his age.

His hand grasped the lip of the soldier’s helmet and with a grunt of effort he slammed it into the wall beside him. Such force was applied that the head was driven six inches into the brick wall.

“Funny thing helmets,” Davon told no one. “Good against being shot, but they do feth all about concussion.”

The Death Watch Mandalorian said nothing. He simply slumped to the floor. It seemed that his weapon problem was over anyway. Davon collected the light carbine, some spare power packs and took the sheathed knife. One didn't take another mandalorian's beskar'gam unless in dire need, but there was no chance he could squeeze into that even if he wanted do. Again, he mourned the decision not to get suited up himself. It might have been a bit tight around the middle, but at least he would have felt more at home in combat.

 

[Davon Karr]

Carrying a blaster openly had perhaps not been the best idea. His scouting mission came to an abrupt halt on the next street when he spotted a squad heading in his direction. He turned off the street and approached the nearest house. There was no one in, so he shoved the door open with his shoulder.

Fortunately they didn’t catch sight of him. Or at least, they didn’t care. He quickly bounded up the stairs and found a window. He watched the group surreptitiously as they walked bold as brass down the street. Just four of them in a group; Davon shouldered the blaster.

He waited until he had a good view of their backs. Flaw number one of a helmet had been exposed already. The next issue to exploit was that any helmet required a gap above the neck. If there wasn’t one, when someone took to lying prone and attempting to fire they’d find themselves restricted to a nice view of the dirt.

 

[Davon Karr]

Unfortunately the blaster he had stolen pulled left. First bolt lanced wide of the mark. The second didn’t, but his time was now up. He stalked away from the window with a stream of blaster fire filling the air. Davon didn’t panick. He calmly took the stairs down and kicked the rear door open. He jogged across the garden and leapt over the fence. Kark but his knees weren’t up to this any more.

The sound of a jet pack drew his attention. He stepped back from the fence and raised his blaster. The airborne mandalorian fired at him. Akimbo pistols whilst trying to use a jet pack. Flat out stupid. One shot killed one of the two boosters and the black-clad soldier went spinning out of control. Davon’s second shot caught the power cell and the Death Watch member was suddenly a ball of fire in the air. Four shots, two down.

Davon ducked as he saw the other two. Blaster bolts tore the flimsy fence panels apart in an instant, sending smoking splinters flying in all directions. Davon fired back, but he was in a poor position now.

Another few chords joined the symphony, before silence fell suddenly. Peering through a glowing hole in the fence panel, Davon saw several new figures moving through the garden.

 

[Davon Karr]

“Gandim, Zerk!” He called out in greeting.

“Hah! I told you so!” Gandim, his eldest son replied. He now had a mop of stark white hair just like his father.

“Damnit, I was certain his evening nap would have carried him through the lot!” Zerk, his grandson, also in his fifties now laughed. Clearly there had been a bet.

“Got your whole clan out Zerk?” Davon asked, a broad grin on his face.

“Cherl is guarding the homestead, you know Zed is off-world fighting, but Samotin and Sil are along!” Zerk replied. Gandim was checking the bodies. He’d never been a real warrior like his deceased siblings, but that was by mandalorian standards. Knew his way round a blaster well enough and Zerk had been in some brutal campaigns.

“We should get someone to Gelda’s place,” Davon warned.

“Already have,” Gandim replied. He’d always been fond of the youngest sister and her family, even if they hadn’t followed their ways. “Zerk sent his wife to go and get them.”

 

[Davon Karr]

“Good man,” Davon said, now he could see more of the locals through the house. Some wore armour, others had clearly just grabbed a gun and started fighting. “What’s even happening?”

“You missed the start of it all then? Rapid landing force came down east of the city centre. Worked their way in and took the IGBC building. The main force broke off and made tracks for the big city, rest started spreading out to find places to fortify.”

Davon’s expression darkened. Of course the IGBC building; it way the most obvious place to defend nearby. Built like a fort it could probably take a bombardment all on its own. “Stahl is there. We need to take it back.”

“That’s the end game alright, but they’ve got numbers and a light tank.” Gandim said, suddenly paying his father full attention. Almost all of his children preferred Stahl, it was a truth Davon had learned to accept. The ones that had preferred him...well...he'd seen those buried.

“We’ll work it out.”

 

[Davon Karr]

Davon’s work shirt was now dark with sweat and grime. No one had a spare vest or plate and straps in his chest size so he was still tempting fate by fighting out of armour. Especially with what he was planning.

“The shooters on the top floor could be trouble,” Pentrith said. They'd drawn out a holomap based on a small civilian drone someone had flown around the sight. The Death Watch were confident, paying little heed to the unarmed civilians who moved around nearby to get eyes on their FOB. So far the loss of the odd patrol hadn't really perturbed them. They had no idea how many locals were gathered ready to attack.

“I've got better shooters,” Zerk said. “And I can double them up, two for each of theirs.” The ground were huddled tight in the living room of a nearby house, the curtains pulled tight.

“We can set up the repeaters in those locations to hit the entrances.”

“The airspeeders can drop a few fire teams on the roof. Probably need some explosives to get in.”

“Got you covered.” The locals may have been civilians, children and old men, but they also had a military arsenal fit for a Grand Army battalion between them.

“Which leaves the tank they seem to have parked up over the road for now. It's got droid controlled repeater sponsons. You can tell from how it tracks people walking past dead on. Gunner just has to pull the trigger and that thing could mow down any number of men in a few seconds.”

Davon nodded his head to himself slowly. “Give me those mag clamp grenades and I'll deal with the tank.”

“How?”

“I'm going to sit on it,” he growled. No one got the joke. Stahl would find it amusing later.

 

[Davon Karr]

The door at the rear of the building opposite the bank was a fire escape. No easy access from the outside. With a bit if work Davon managed to shimmy a tool between the masonry and the door. He gave it a solid whack and was rewarded with the sound of the metal latching coming loose.

With his left hand on the handle of the tool, his right tried to find purchase on the edge of the door to prise it open. He found a handhold and started to swing it open. Reflexes that had never left him kicked in as he sensed something on the other side. Another mandalorian was revealed, weapon up. Clearly the noise he'd made on the door was being investigated.

Davon was already moving, right hand swung down across his body to slap the barrel aside just as the bolt flew. Stepping in his left palm came up, connecting with the middle of the helmet. Striking a helmet with a fist was a bad idea, enough force from an open palm could disorientate. Second lesson in the physics of concussion for the invaders.

 

[Davon Karr]

His right kept a firm grip and yanked as the death watcher stumbled away. Unfortunately in the moment Davon also lost his grip as well and the blaster was sent sliding along the ground behind them.

The soldier went for his knife. Davon's right hand wrapped around his and slammed it back into its sheath and held it there. Having struck the first blow, his left forearm was wedged underneath his opponent's jaw. Davon roared at the top of his lungs as he drove him up and back. The soldier back pedalled into the building quickly, into a wide open space with neatly arranged tables on the far side. Some kind of conference Hall.

His opponent still had a free hand, only one was trapped around the hilt of his sheathed knife. This seemed to dawn on him. A gloved fist slammed into Davon’s temple. It had been a long time since he'd been struck in the head and he'd almost forgotten how dreadful it was. His vision span, his hearing was overwhelmed by a high pitched whine.

Losing all sense of direction, he only became aware of where the floor was when it hit his shoulder.