Tragic Past Uncertain Future
An idea hit me and I had to get it down, severely days if writing later and here is the result! I hope you fellows enjoy this, I actually had a great time writing this particular piece. I needs a little break from my other stories and don't worry, the prototype and warhammer ones are stil going to be done. It's just going to take a little bit.
Drake
Broken Legacy
Chapter 1: Tragic Past Uncertain Future
"What are you doing here aruetii?" An enraged male voice demanded.
"Is that any way to treat your vod?" Another silky but barbed male voice tutted in disappointment.
"I'm no brother of yours, not anymore!" The man hissed. "Not since you betrayed us, aruetyc filth!"
At this time any false pretense of geniality dropped from the second voice. "If your not my brother then I don't need to be...nice. You know what I want Darius, don't think I won't do what I need to get it."
"Buir?" A soft childlike voice interrupted, calling out sleepily from a distance.
The first voice changed from hostile to deeply worried. "Hey ad'ika, what are you doing up? You should be back in bed."
"I heard shouting." The child replied innocently. "What is ba'vodu doing here?"
"Your uncle was just leaving." The father replied with a stern tone.
"Actually ad'ika, I think I'm going to kill you, your mother, your sisters, and your father." The second voice said with an almost pleasant tone.
"What?" The child squeaked with a tremor in his young treble voice.
"Run ad'ika!" The father yelled.
BANG BANG...
The man bolted up from his bed, gasping and covered in sweat. After a few learned breathing exercises and feeling the soothing aura of the force wash over him his heart-rate settled down and returned to normal. With a groan he wiped his sweaty brow and looked around his quarters. It was sparsely decorated, an end table, (which had a holo of a smiling family), an old fashioned lamp, a small table, some little personal trophies, and a connecting refresher dominated the small room.
With his target in sight the man slung his sheets to the side and twisted his legs, climbing out of his bed, and stiffly walking over to his destination. The durasteel refresher door slid open horizontally and he entered, the man turned on the faucet with a wave of his hand, pouring water into the basin. He scooped up a handful of the rejuvenating liquid, splashed his face, and then looked up to stare into the transparisteel mirror. A young tired pale human face stared back. His eye's were a dark blue color, with red flecks, a gene modification he bought in his much younger days before his training had beaten any childishness out of him. Atop his head lay a crop of thick short raven-black hair, complimented by a very thin beard. His face was completely unsullied except for a obvious scar down the bridge of his nose and across his right cheek. He fingered the scar trailing a finger down the puckered flesh, every time he saw it the man was reminded of the day that had warped and changed his life forever.
All though he appeared young the man wore a grim and experienced visage. The twenty-three year old was no stranger to suffering or hardship. With a sigh he turned off the water and watched it circle down the drain, as the last drops were sucked down the pipe system with a hungry slurp he turned and walked out.
Back in his bedroom, the man plodded over to his closet, opening the sliding door and looking at his hanging civilian wardrobe. Usually he would go out in his beskar'gam, but it had been damaged in his last job when a thermal detonator went off near his boot. The armor was in the small work-zone he built, awaiting his skilled hands. So for now he would have to make do with his off the clock clothes. Not in the mood to care about appearances he grabbed anything that looked functional and tossed it on the bed. After that he stripped out of his bed clothes showcasing to no one his chiseled muscular physique, (where another small pair of circular scars could be seen, one in his right side and the other near his left shoulder). His occupation required a certain level of fitness, any one who lacked it did not last long. The career was unforgiving but paid extremely well, plus it was kind've a cultural thing.
He dressed himself in his selected outfit, a blue long sleeve tactical shirt, his nexu-leather gloves, a pair of slim black cargo pants, and heavy-duty black plasteel boots. Synching his belt, the man grabbed a pair of holstered custom blasters from the table and fastened them to his side, after that he grabbed a silver pair of cylindrical hilts, clipping them to the belt alongside the holsters. Next to where the hilts laid was an armor vambrace that he slid onto his right arm. The black and sand-gold vambrace was his second most important asset and therefore could not remain with the rest of his suit. It contained information, his comm system, a hacking tool, flamethrower, and a wackload of other abilities/gadgets. Almost as an afterthought he rummaged around the back of his closest and found an old battered plasteel chestplate, even though it was inferior beyond measure to his beskar, it would be better then nothing.
The man was satisfied with his gear and ready to move, he swiftly exited his room and walked into a hallway. He traveled along the metal corridor for a few minutes before coming to a section that led to a garage like expanse. It was a personal workshop, filled with parts, benches, half-built weapons, armor components, a dismantled speeder, and a deactivated droid.
He meandered through the cluttered place until he reached the far end and pressed a green button built into a panel, with a hiss the ramp lowered to the ground, filling the bay with artificial light. Covering his eyes with a gloved hand he waited until they adjusted. When he was finally acclimated he thudded down the ramp with the sharp clang of his armored boots and into a loud populous hanger.
Thousands of sentient beings consisting of hundreds of species made up the bustling crowds. Just with a glance he could see a group of rodians talking in front of a large circular ship in what must not be galactic basic as he could not understand then. And across from them was a intermingled group of twileks and verpine. The head-tailed aliens and insectoids chatting amiably as they stood in the shadow of a large freighter. There even was a group, albeit small, of bothans, the fuzzy canine-feline like aliens were a rare sight outside political positions and their own planet. The force was particularly active hear, all the people in one location filling it with a sea of blending emotions. If he had, or wanted the time, he could have deciphered it, but he was a busy man.
Done sightseeing, the man walked through the crowds, his dispassionate face parting the crowds before him with ease. He projected an aura of annoyance and anger through the force, boosted by his height and physical stature. Needless to say not a single soul was brave enough to accidentally or purposefully block his path. It was a surefire way of getting rid of pesky beggars and thieves, and had the added bonus of keeping other people away in general.
Soon he arrived at the customs booth, it was manned by a bored looking human in an orange and black suit. "Name, occupation, and reason for visit to Kuat." He rattled out in a robotic tone not even looking up from his holozine, the poor guy had probably said it over a thousand times since the start of his shift. Even the force aura he emitted was subdued.
"A'den Lok, Bounty Hunter, Hunting." A'den replied casually to the man's questions in his smooth and pleasantly deep voice.
The customs official froze and looked up from his magazine with curious brown eyes, his bushy brows raised in appraisal. "Bounty Hunter?" He asked in surprise.
"Yep, name of the trade." A'den remarked easily standing at the edge of the plasteel counter, tapping on it with a gloved finger distractedly, having dealt with many a customs booth in his time, he knew the process well.
"And you are currently...working?" The officer inquired hesitantly.
"Indeed my good fellow." He replied jovially. "I shouldn't take long though, my...objective was spotted a few kilometers outside the spaceport the other day It will be a nice and quick jaunt don't ya think?" He chuckled heartily.
The unfortunate man had no idea how to handle the situation, he wasn't sure if hunters could operate inside the main public plazas. "I have to check with my superiors." He decided.
"Really?" A'den asked in mock surprise, it completely going over the other man's head.
"Yes, then I'll have your answer." The customs officer replied, reaching for his comm-link.
Now that just won't do. A'den thought to himself. "You don't have to check with your superiors." He said, waving his gloved hand in front of the man.
"I...don't have to check with my superiors." The officer replied in a monotone voice.
"I am free to go." A'den continued.
"You are free to go." The officer copied and pressed the button unlocking the doors into the city.
"Excellent, good day sir!" He said his farewell and walked into the newly green-lit durasteel exit.
"Good day sir." The officer droned back, and he even waived goodbye.
A'den smirked to himself as he left, the force was a powerful tool when applied with precision. Something his mentor always told him, more often then naught beating it in to him, but A'den never faulted the old barve for it, being a mandalorian was by definition hard, and being a mandalorian knight was harder. He shook off the old memories, they always snowballed back to something he tried his best to leave buried. A'den looked back at the man who maned the booth, he would not have any bad repercussions, beside a small migraine and a feeling of déjà Vu.
Now that he could begin his hunt, A'den shifted his demeanor. This side of him was all business, whatever he needed to do would be done to accomplish his goals. He stepped out of the small jointing hallway and into the permacrete foyer, passing small congregations of intertwined species talking in small parties, A'den worked his way to the targets last known location, occasionally scanning his surroundings with his wrist device built into his vambrace. His target was nowhere to be seen, perhaps he was deeper in?
A'den picked up his pace, soon he was several kilometers outside the spaceport and into the towering main city. It was a buzzing nest of life and activity, skycars soared through the skylanes, while uncountable pedestrians chirped along, living their everyday lives. All of this was unnecessary information for the seasoned bounty hunter, he instead focused on any quick movements and shifty looking characters. His target was a particularly dangerous and intelligent foe, a cut above the rest of the dregs he usually hunted.
Gralik Van was a shistavanen wolfman. They were an isolationist species, tending to stay on their home planet Uvena Prime. Although most did stay, a select adventurous few traveled among the stars. Sadly they were very "wild" so most eventually became mercenaries, fellow bounty hunters, and scouts. They had a well deserved reputation for being feral and quick to anger, often making other sentients regard then with mistrust. It was sad really, the majority were just like everyone else, trying to find a way to live comfortably in this universe. But as with all stereotypes, all it took was a few bad seeds to spoil the whole crop so to speak. In fact, A'den was friends with quite a few of the other hunters, and he considered them a decent, if a little rough, sort. But then again bounty hunters weren't renowned for their manners he thought with a chuckle.
But he digressed, he needed to find this guy. Gralik was one of the bad seeds, a repeat offender, well known to have connections with the hutt cartels, and suspected murderer. The wolfman was said to be responsible for more then seven deaths, and had an astral monetary reward for his seizure, dead or alive. It was a reward A'den planned on collecting. Although some of his contacts said that he was looking out for his family, but A'den thought that was a falsity. I mattered not, he had better start looking for this guy. The best way to find anyone would be to ask around so he put on his most welcoming charming face, prepared his force persuasion skills and walked into the crowds.
A hundred questions and two hours of inane dialogue later, A'den had gathered quite a bit of background for his target. It seemed Gralik almost always attended the local cantina seven hours out of the day. He was reputed to be an angry and confrontational drunkerd and had attacked several patrons. With a destination in place, A'den did a once over on his gear, found it to his approval, and headed for the cantina so pleasantly called The Sarlacc Pit.
He entered the den of hedonism and debauchery with a disdainful frown. Sure A'den loved to drink and loved cantinas, but he suspected one that catered to the likes of Gralik would not be, or stack up to, his usual haunts and he was right.
The very air stunk of spilled alcohol and deathsticks. Half of the occupants were on his bounty list, and the other half would no doubt be on it before the weeks end. But he wasn't paid to take them so he ignored it all and took a stool at the bar. The bastard at the counter didn't even ask him what he wanted to drink, not that he would dare consume any liquid or solid sold in this establishment anyways, but it was the thought that count dammit! So with a sullen mutter he made it look like he was busy on his wrist device until his target showed up, he activated the entertainment section and busied himself with a little puzzle game.
An hour, (and countless little frustrating games later), his prey stumbled into the cantina, already batnor. The dark brown furred wolfman sloppily made his way over to the counter and sat right next to A'den. "IIIII'l hhhave aaaaa alderani aalle." He slurred with a growl, waiving the bartender off with a paw. After that the shistavanen rocked in place, trying to keep his balance. It was only a matter of time before he turned to the closest person to torment, and of course it was A'den. "Wwhat y-you loo-k-in at fleshy?" He stuttered, heavily poking A'den's plasteel chestplate.
"Nothing much." A'den retorted with an infuriating grin, the one that often made his mentor smack him with the nearest available blunt object, (if he was lucky, the old trandoshan had allot've knives).
It tools the inebriated fellow a good while to puzzle out that he had just been insulted, needles to say he was not taking it well. "What did you just say bantha breath?" He growled dangerously, which was to little affect, A'den had faced far more intimidating marks.
"All I said was that I wasn't looking at much, and honestly I may have under-exaggerated." He replied with a cheerful smile. An angry opponent was a careless opponent, and careless opponents made mistakes.
A'den could visibly see the cogs grinding inside the wolfman's head, and when he saw the wolf's furry muscles tense and his presence in the force turn a dark bleary red, he knew that conflict was about to rear its ugly head. Gralik swiped a dagger clawed paw out in an attempt to remove A'den's head from his shoulders. But the force sensitive was much too fast to be taken off guard. He leaned backwards casually, letting the lethal slash slam ineffectively upon the durasteel countertop, shattering shot glasses and sending the shrapnel showering across the bar. Now howling in pain, Gralik nursed his bruised and bloody paw, but he wasn't done yet.
With another snarl he swiped at A'den as hard and as fast as he could several times with his uninjured paw. Still the bounty hunter managed to avoid the enraged shistavanen's swings with almost contemptuous ease, the force lending him foresight and speed. In desperation, the wolfman reached for what could only be a blaster in his coat and made an attempt to draw it.
A'den grabbed the wolfman's paw before he could pull out the weapon. The risky move allowed his adversary to land a hit on his chestplate, rending the plasteel into ribbons and gouging deep painful slashes into his vulnerable skin beneath, making blood well up through the new breaches in his armor. Now A'den was done playing.
He aimed his other free hand in a vice like grip in the direction of his foe. Gralik froze suddenly and scrabbled at his throat, trying in vain to free himself from the spectral hands squeezing his furred neck. "I think it would be in your best interest to come quietly aruetii." A'den warned, his voice was still friendly, but held an undertone of venomous malice.
For a minute it seemed like the shistavanen would struggle until A'den would be forced to snap his neck, but eventually he whimpered meekly and stopped thrashing. "There's a good boy!" A'den said happily, patting the wolfman on the head. "See how much easier it is to listen to me!"
The boisterous cantina had grown quiet at the bold display of force aptitude, no one wanted to mess with a force user, especially a mandalorian one. Gralik would be handling this fight on his own. Besides, no one liked him anyways.
When he saw that no one would come to his aid, he slouched in defeat. "What do you want with me?" He demanded, now somewhat sober.
"Its simple, you have a bounty, and I'm collecting it." A'den replied, hoisting up the breathless shistavanen. "Now would you be so kind..." He began to lead his captured mark outside the cantina, not giving the den a backwards glance. He marched Gralik outside and straight back to the starport, ignoring all the open stares and curiosa looks. In short order he arrived back at the customs booth.
The official looked up from his holozine and gave A'den and his new "friend" a suspicious look.
"Haven't I seen you before?"
"Not at all good sir! I've never met you in my life." A'den said hurriedly, ushering the bewildered wolfman past the booth and towards the center of the hanger where his ship, "Gra'tuar", was berthed, leaving the official scratching his head, until he decided it wasn't worth his time and let it go.
Faster then the shistavanen could comprehend, he was ushered into the ship, (a heavily modified black and gold dynamic class freighter), and found himself inside some sort of workshop as the ramp behind him rose up. His new jailer led him to a cell at the far end of an industrial stylized corridor after a few minutes of silent walking. Gralik was startled some what when he discovered that the cell was not a barren five-by-five box, but rather a small, (but not unpleasant), guest room. "What is this?" He demanded in confusion, not expecting any humane (ironic isn't it?) treatment at all.
"Your temporary quarters until I drop you off." His jailer responded simply.
"Why...is it...nice?" He asked slowly.
"Why wouldn't it be?" The human wondered, genuinely puzzled.
"I expected some dark pit with no light." Gralik replied with a tinge of anger.
"I don't see why I would do that, that cell is only reserved for the really bad bounties." The human explained, absently poking at his own chest wound, seemingly unbothered by it or Gralik's questions.
"I wounded you!" Gralik growled in frustration, he almost seemed to want a worse cell and that made A'den curious.
A curiosity that could wait till later he decided. "I get wounded all the time, a little scratch won't bother me none." He shrugged off. "Enjoy your stay, maybe we'll talk before I drop you off." He abruptly closed the door, leaving the wolfman in the nice little room.
Now alone he looked for a way out, and of course found none, the door was one-sided, meaning he only way to open was from the other side. There was no vent or anything big enough for him to crawl through and there was no objects in the room that could be used to fashion an escape tool. So in defeat he sat on the soft bed and brooded.
This was all his fault and he knew it, but he would do it all over again if it would keep his family safe he thought with a sad smile. Gralik never wanted all this, his family was having tough times after his father died leaving a twelve year old Gralik with his mother and two sisters. His father worked for a hutt crime lord and didn't come back one day. Then, three years later that same slug showed up and offered him a place on his payroll. His family was barely making ends meet and the hutt offered allot of money so he had said yes without hesitation. Needless to say, working for a hutt was not a wise career move, but it kept his family fed. He regretted every single terrible thing he did, but he reminded himself why he was doing it and it helped push through the rough patches, drinking helped allot to, although he hated what it did to him.
And now it looked like his misdeeds had caught up with him. No doubt he would be executed and his family would starve. The shistavanen sighed forlornly and laid upon the bed. He spent the rest of his time before sleep called to him thinking about his family, he hoped that somehow they would be okay when he was gone.
A'den left his bounty in the holding cell and went to the cockpit to plot his course off the planet and to the nearest hyperspace lane. It took him a few minutes to do so, and when he was done he went to his personal quarters to think. Something was off about this particular catch, the force was telling him that all was not as it seems for this particular wolfman. He was hiding something, and it just might influence his fate.
His next course of action would be to confront this shistavanen about his secrets, but first he wanted to meditate for awhile. He needed to clear his mind after going to such a filthy place as that disgusting den of sin.