The Wyvern's Hunt

[Hawkins Grime]

The sky was a burnt orange, like the rotting skin of a vegetable where the edges of night were just barely visible. His hands rested on the cold railing of the balcony, overlooking a panorama of the finest that the underworld of the Outer Rim could offer. He lifted his right arm examining the newly carved scar/tattoo in his flesh for a moment. The naive pride of finally being recognized enough to be accepted into the gang's higher levels, much less the initial stepping stones of the syndicates, filled his heart with a hope and ambition that burned like ice. Insignificants had died at the hands of CENSORED just so he could earn what little ink and blood had gone into this mark. Many more were to come.

=======

"Dylan, lookee here. Too bad all this flair can't save his hide now!"

The other surgeon looked up at the piece of flayed skin they had just removed from CENSORED's right arm. A string of embedded tattoos indicating the progression of rank of a syndicate member were still visible; tiny pools of blood resting in the grooves.

"Look there, just near the beginning. He tracked someone special down then, very special, to have earned that one. Was he that good of a hunter then, or just relentless?"

No matter now, eh, Dylan? The hunter became the hunted, and now 'e's bein' carved up real nice. Just like some good game you'd catch."

The skinless body jerked convulsively as it's eyes glanced the skin of its own fore arm in the surgeon's hands. The hairless head jerked to the right to get just a brief look at the right arm, seeing nothing but muscle and sinew, blood dripping like a slow leak. The moan, the master torturer's knew, was the only scream such a victim could work up at this point. Nonetheless, they were pleased. It meant there was still more to cut into, more to flay and bleed, before their project was broken.

=======

Grime's head jerked in bed, his right arm thrown up into the air as if he was struggling against chains. Still so fresh, the memories. Grime creaked and wheezed as his servos kicked into action as he sat up slowly in his captain's quarters on board the Black Wyvern. A green light blinked off and on at the console beside the bed. He hit the button with a metal finger and the wall display lit up with the waiting message.

TARGET NOT ON ONDERON. OUT OF CONTACT FOR UNDETERMINED TIME. MANDOS MAY KNOW SOMETHING.

The sigh that escaped the pale blue lips of Hawkins' artificial face was the trickling hint of impatience to betray the mounting flood behind it.

=======

Morrolan drove the speeder over the Wilds. Grime had given him the location of the last Mandolorian base camp that he had visited. Hawkins knew little of the Mandolorians had only been as interested as necessary in what time he had spent with them but he knew that De'Ville had done something worth enough to make her their reigning leader.

Grime's own sources had been more or less useless other than pointing him to Onderon. Upon entry to local space he had been further enraged to find that she had not been on the planet for some time and no trace of her had been found in Iziz for quite some time.

So it was to the Mandos that he had been pointed. Bloody Mandos.

"Ey sir, no offense."

Grime's eyes turned slowly from the verdant yet deadly horizon to his pilot and gun man.

"Sir, you mind turning the heat off a bit, yeah? I'm having a hard time staying awake. But so you know, I'm guessing we are about two minutes away from your destination."

Even with his temperature controlling body-glove, e'Drain had been made uncomfortable by the heat generated by Grime's roiling rage. Hawkins was not concerned in the slightest at e'Drain's discomfort but was more annoyed that his powers were running out of check. He pulled the tendrils and waves of heat back slowly.

"Fine then... when we land, drop me off then take off again. Buzz overhead until I call for you... Be ready..."

The air speeder lurched slightly as Morrolan guided it down towards a familiar clearing. Moments later, the ramp was dropped, Grime was standing outside, and the speeder had taken off again into the air. From beneath the wide brim of his hat, Grime looked around slowly. He had no precognitive abilities that he knew of in the Force but the grass and vegetation at his feet slowly pushed away from him as if he was creating his own wind. He could just barely detect all these things that the heat, his rage, washed over.

The planet itself, Onderon, had a rage about it that seemed to want to synchronize with Grime's but he struggled to push his rage out further. He knew he could react and sense pain, his and others. He was forever immersed in pain and the sensation of someone else was like a watered down brandy to his mind's tastes. If the Mandos neared, he was ready.

[Bretak]

"Incoming speeder." The scout stood still in the treetop he was perched in, green and brown painted armor blending into the leaves and branches. "Dropped off one. The hat.

"A'den is back."

The speeder took off, but the Mandalorian was sure it would not go far. A'den stomped around in the grasses where the old encampment had been. They had moved on Mandalore's suggestion, so the City people did not know exactly where their main camp was. And that they were repairing and building more Basilisks.

"Bretak is sending more acolytes to your position to intercept. Make sure you are unseen, and that no beasts kill A'den before they get there."

The scout clicked the comm in reply, settling in to wait.

[Hawkins Grime]

Grime paced quietly in the clearing; metal fists clenched as the grass where he walked curled and turned brown from the residual heat of his metal feet. The Mandolorians had to be nearby. The frustrating point was that they were nowhere to be seen and he was having a hard time sensing anything while he wrestled with his own rage. Waiting... Nothing... No De'Ville... No further training...

The events at Utapau were still burning in his mind and the obvious flaws in his own abilities had been made clear. After finally settling his business there, Grime had originally intended to return for more training but given the results, he felt even more pressed to do so. Hawkins refused to acknowledge that at times he could still see his Master's eyes, green like emeralds that caught fire, whenever he managed to find sleep.

Then he caught it. Something that... countered his impatience and rage. A stoic patience, an immovable object, against Grime's rage, an unstoppable force. He turned towards it with a vague notion that at the very least, it was something, if not a Mandolorian, some kind of hunter, likely a beast at that with Grime's odds. He slowly moved towards it from the clearing, hoping he might get a better idea of what it was, up there, in that tree. How comfortable would it be, waiting up there, when it set on fire?

[Bretak]

The scout didn't move as A'den walked towards his tree, certain he hadn't been seen. But A'den and Mandalore had unusual abilities - ones that even a proven warrior could not counter alone. He resisted the urge to shift his position, and became aware of the noise of the acolyte's jetpacks as a quartet of armored Mando'ade approached the clearing.

Granoi was among them, the older female one of the few that had worked closely with Mandalore and A'den off planet. Mandalore had promised they would all leave Onderon and rejoin their brethren among the stars, and on the homeworld, but for now the Mando'ade waited. Patience was something they had in plentiful supply.

For now they were content to take what foothold they had among the Iziz and make it larger.

The four Mando'ade landed in the clearing a safe distance away from A'den, who had turned to mark their approach some time before. They did not remove their helmets, nor did they assume offensive positioning. Neutral stance as they walked towards him, stopping several meters away.

Granoi spoke, her voice filtered through the helmet's vox. "You have been long away, A'den."

[Hawkins Grime]

His porcelain face was stoic and still as he stared the four down before him, his blood shot eyes making a close examination of the one who spoke now. There was something familiar that pulled at the corner of his mind but little more and then it was gone as he stumbled forward as a nasty cough wracked his clockwork frame. He caught himself and faced them, blood dripping unnoticed from the corner of his mouth.

"Manda'lor. Where has she gone? And if you can't tell me where she went, take me..."

He almost coughed again but instead spit the pooling blood from his mouth.

"Take me to someone who knows."

The edge to his voice was unavoidable but he also maintained as neutral of a stance as he could. Grime did not boast of his in depth knowledge of the Mandolorians. He knew they respected strength and cunning as a warrior. He'd proven both in combat, regardless of his sickly disposition otherwise, and he would not come begging to them for De'Ville's location either.

The hard thing with Mandolorians for Grime was to not get them confused as just savages because of their secret culture out here in the middle of deadly nowhere. They were anything but something to be underestimated.

[Bretak]

Granoi shook her head curtly. "She moves between the stars. Who can say where Mand'alor is?

"Hers is a ba'slan shev'la. When the time is right Mand'alor will return."

The four Mando'ade stood there in the clearing, where the jungle was already creeping in on their former home, erasing any proof that the clans had lived there, and studied the protege of their Mandalore. His doll-like face and stiff posture made him difficult to read in a traditional sense, but one would have to be blind not to see how angry he was.

A'den was always angry. That was his way.

"Bretak leads the Mando'ade at Mand'alor's ke'gyce." Granoi held up a hand to forstall his question, "He will not speak to you. Re'turcye mhi, A'den." The Mandalorians behind her spread out a bit, preparing to leave.

[Hawkins Grime]

She held up her hand before the question even lurched from his pale, blue lips. That... witch. She would make things difficult. And not just by herself, but she'd tie these Mandos up in her little webs; Grime had no doubt that she would return, precisely when and how would all be up to her devices and purposes. It almost appeared as too easy.

The one who had spoken, who was turning with the rest to fly out and away leaving Grime with virtually no answers, that one would... what? Regret her actions? Live to rue the day she left Grime standing there like that? The demonic rage didn't whisper, it screamed for immediate satisfaction, something had to pay, namely her. Grime's cold, steely will power that kept the rage nailed to his breathing corpse just barely held it in check as he let them go. Needless to say, the ground around his feet was charred black.

Grime turned away to not further frustrate himself as they flew off, his eyes darting up to the trees again as he cued his local freq comm unit.

"Pick me up."

"Sir, are we tracking the Mandos?"

"No point. Shut up."

"Yes, Sir."

In the distance, Grime could just barely notice the air speeder as it looped around and began to make its way to his position.

=======

The speeder was parked outside the lot of warehouses that Grime used to move goods through his black market on and off Onderon. Grime and e'Drain moved through the sewers and infrastructure tunnels beneath, slowly making their way out of the Industrial Sector and into the Port Sector of Iziz.

"So... Boss, what now?"

"If I didn't have to deal with your..."

Grime supported himself against the wall for a moment while he hocked blood back up his throat, spitting it on the floor in front of him before he continued.

"Your blathering and if I knew how their broken language actually worked... They pretty much told me nothing new other than I now know the name of who leads them while she is in absentia."

"Excellent work, Sir"

Grime stopped for a moment to look over his shoulder at e'Drain. Morrolan held up his hands in a gesture of no offense before Grime turned and continued forward. They walked on for a long silence then as they neared the access that would put them near the docking bay of the Black Wyvern.

"Ey Boss, I'm gonna be honest. I haven't heard anything out of the Wyvern for a while."

"We are underground."

"Never stopped it before. The Wyvern is either taking a nap or someone is using a jamming device near or around it."

"Wonderful."

=======

"CENSORED..."

"What?"

"Do you hear that?"

"No."

"I heard something. Down that alley."

"Well, what does your nifty little droid say. I thought he was supposed to be up ahead?"

"Xvee is... not responding."

"Wonderful."

CENSORED drew his pistol like a predator might stretch out before it began to stalk its prey.

[Bretak]

The Bes'uliik were impressive pieces of machinery. Bretak's was a loyal monster, its AI able to anticipate his commands to some extent, and making it easy to direct with minimal contact. He called it Atin, ever since it had fought through a family unit of drexl's after they had arrived starving during the Migration and separated Bretak from his hunting group.

He sat astride the war droid, its metal skin dull and non-reflective, studying the ship across from him. Six other brothers were with him, armored up and bristling with weapons, their Bes'uliik crouching in a semi-circle around Atin. They had been jamming the ship's transmissions for a while. Bretak did not want the Iziz to know Mando'ad business, and he could not be sure those inside the ship were not communicating with them.

[Hawkins Grime]

Rowan Averre, possibly one of the most unfortunate girls in this sector of space stared outside of the Black Wyvern's cockpit through the shaded panels at seven Mandolorians astride mechanical monsters. She had been transmitting constant warning signals to e'Drain but he wasn't responding. Chroma MK I, Rowan's companion AI, not the evil construct, Chroma MK II, that Grime had commissioned from her, had explained the metal beasts might have had something to do with it. Chroma MK I was just as afraid as Rowan was and had therefore just insulated the ship from any possible electronic attack. Otherwise, Rowan could not have felt more helpless aboard that ship.

=======

Have you ever seen a monster before, CENSORED?

The tall man bowed before the Hutt as he responded.

"No, your liege, I have never experienced the sight of something your massiveness might consider a monster amidst such wonderful company as myself and other members of your syndicate."

Hoh hoh hoooh... Let me show you what a rancor can do. I'll let you judge if any of you can compare to its monstrosity.

=======

The access hatch opened and Grime was a bit disappointed as he followed close behind e'Drain. Six, no seven Mandolorians astride great mechanical beasts. e'Drain had his pistols drawn but kept his arms by his side. Grime's bloodshot eyes scanned the group, noting the one in the middle of the semi-circle. The side of his lip lifted just barely, the closest thing Hawkins could manage for a sneer at the moment.

"Bretak?"

[Bretak]

He studied the HUD inside his helmet, and inclined his head slightly towards A'den. "Su'cuy, A'den."

After a moment he reached up and unbuckled his buy'ce, taking it off and setting it before him on Atin. He had spent a lot of time with A'den in the past, but the man was inscrutable. Neither side of the stand off relaxed, and neither side pointed a weapon at the other. Of course, A'den did not exactly need a weapon.

Bretak faced the pale faced man bareheaded. "I heard you were looking for Mand'alor."

[Hawkins Grime]

"I am. You know where she is?"

His ivory, artificial teeth ground together after he asked the question. Couldn't the other Mandos just told him he would meet this Bretak when he got back to Iziz?!

Grime stepped forward, past e'Drain, who took that as a sort of stand down. Morrolan leaned against the wall casually, pistols still drawn.

"If you don't, then let me cut to the dren by asking what else is there?"

Hawkins could think of a few bargaining chips, if necessary, that he might have beyond the clout he might have gained from being Mandalore's protege but he did not expect to have to play those cards just yet.

[Bretak]

"I know where she went."

Bretak was young and strong, but he wasn't sure if he could survive a one to one battle with A'den without getting tracyn'la. He shifted a bit on Atir, and the Basilisk remained still beneath him. "I was instructed to tell you, should you return to Onderon, that you have been gone too long."

[Hawkins Grime]

Grime wanted to watch this voice mail's head pop like a blister from within.

"Understood."

If anyone wanted an explanation of his whereabouts, it would be her, not him. Even then, she probably wouldn't care either, other than he might have not been around to save her from being captured by who knows what now.

"Any other instructions then?"

His shoulders, the gothic, spiked frame of his exoskeleton, shuddered in what might have been a sigh.

"Either way, where is Manda'lor?"

Their language was hard enough on his artificial tongue, it was much easier altogether to just pronouns.

[Bretak]

Atin did shift then, its metal haunches raising and lowering as it settled lower to the duracrete. A'den's brother in arms became visibly more alert, but his dual weapons remained pointed down as the Basilisk made no other overt moves.

"Mand'alor has gone to the Alliance." Bretak had done a lot of studying in this time of peace, learning of the history of the stars, and the peoples that lived among them. And of the other Mando'ade. Perhaps this Mand'alor would be called Mandalore the Unifier.

[Hawkins Grime]

The Alliance? The rebels? It made sense to a point, enemy of her enemy and whatnot but still... The witch was clever, very clever. Metal creaked against metal as his fists clenched. Blasted annoying for all that cleverness, who knew where the bloody Alliance really was at any given point and where she might be within it?

"The Alliance is not a place, it is a what or a group of whos... Where can I find her? And quit hiding behind your elusive word games. You ride that thing like a warrior, but you're wasting my time like a coward might."

He let that last sentence cut into the space between them. Maybe that would spark something in their stoic nature and get him something close to resembling real answers.

=======

CENSORED played with a ribbon of her hair that trailed down her bare back.

"Why do you play these games with me?"

She turned her face towards him, half of it still buried in the pillow but he could not help but smile when he saw her own mischievous smile.

"Me? I play no games with you!"

"You're a horrible liar. Given that, tell me where you've been hiding while I was gone."

CENSORED's tone had gone from playful to deadly in mid sentence. Her eyes, like emeralds on fire, glared into his, not with fear but defiance.

[Bretak]

The entire group of Bes'uliik and warriors straightened up, from lounging to alert at just one word. Bretak's face darkened. He was no hut'uun. "Ne shab'rud'ni*. I play no games with you, A'den. The Mand'alor is on the planet they call Dac. This is all I know.

"Her apprentice, the one going through the verd'goten (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Verd%27goten), went with her." Akasha had proven herself to be an able warrior, falling in with the other training children easily under Granoi's tutelage.

Bretak took a moment to relax his hands where they had tightened into fists. If A'den insulted him one more time there would be blood spilled, no matter what Mand'alor would say.


* Ne Shab'rund'ni - don't mess with me [extremely strong warning and likely to be followed by violence]

[Hawkins Grime]

Both corners of Grime's mouth trembled at first and he almost wheezed with pain to make such an effort but it was worth it as his pale face smiled. e'Drain's trigger fingers were just a hair off the triggers but other than that, nothing else had changed about his disposition. He knew the old man by now, Grime could play some serious Sabaac when he wanted to, with or without the emotionless doll face.

"I am A'den, remember? I can... taste your rage, all of you."

He was being honest. If it had been a wine, he'd only had a taste as they'd all gone on guard, a rich vintage, fearless like the black winds in space, a spark like starting a fire in a bitter winter. He sighed though as he continued.

"At ease... Manda'lor values you too much to waste yourself against me."

Hawkins had no illusion that seven Mandos astride those metal lizards would have him beat. He knew without a doubt though that Bretak would be a melted heap of flesh though if it came down to it.

"You gave me the answers I wanted... I'll not... waste anymore of your time. I look forward to... speaking with you again, Bretak."

Grime could not notice the stream of blood dripping down the corner of his mouth, the price for a smile.

[Bretak]

Blood dripped from the corner of A'den's mouth, the cost of whatever terrible affliction the man had that caused him to be encased in the exoskeleton that covered his body. But he would not get away so quickly. The Basilisk War Droids did not move, standing at attention between A'den and his ship, and Bretak put out his hand, gesturing one of them forward.

The Mando'ade who dismounted from the boma-like Bes'uliik was slightly smaller than the others. "You are leaving," Bretak said to A'den, not a question. Of course the angry man was leaving, to find Mand'alor. "Take one of our warriors with you. This one has just passed through verd'goten and become a man. He is as skilled as any of our clan."

He was also Bretak's adopted son, the orphan of a terrible drexl attack many years ago. They had spent many of the last five years together, teaching and learning fighting and survival skills. The thirteen year old stood tall and proud beside Atin, and Bretak knew he would do well among the stars. And it was important to find out what was out there first hand, because one day soon the Mando'ade would leave Onderon.

[Hawkins Grime]

Hawkins Grime stepped forward until he was just before the child. He could feel the muscles in his face and neck twitching with irritation within the exoskeleton. His blood rimmed eyes bore into the black slits of the boy's Mandolorian helmet.

=======

"Aye, thissss one. He'sss good and vicioussss. Picked him up out one of thossse rat gangs of man childsssss."

The Trandoshan yanked on the chain, dragging the boy out of the shadows of the cage. The Rodian rubbed its sweaty face as it considered the boy, maybe 13 standard years.

"He'sss clean. And ssssssssmarter than he smellsss."

"How good is he in a fight?"

"Thatssss how I found him. He fought in the rat pitssss... He's been blooded."

"We'll see about that."

=======

"We'll see about that..."

e'Drain lifted an eyebrow, surprised Grime was playing along as the Mandolorians began to shuffle aside and let them pass. The ramp lowered cautiously on the Black Wyvern.

[Bretak]

Bretak looked down at his son, replacing his helmet as he did so. "Nu jurkad Mando'ade, burc'ya."*

Orar nodded silently as the five other Mando'ade began to move their war droids away from the ship, the Basilisk he had vacated following the others. "K'oyacyi,"** he said, and Bretak echoed the saying before turning one last time to A'den.

"Good hunting."


* Nu jurkad Mando'ade, burc'ya! - a reassurance, comparable to "Steady, mate"

**K'oyacyi! - "Cheers!" Can also mean "Hang in there" or "Come back safely." Literally, a command; "Stay alive!"