Crixus

The Gank nodded as he quickly signed the contract, eager to get paid in advanced and to start his new job right away. With luck, he could modify the jetpack he had acquired on Tatooine, complete with a paint change to disguise it from any other Mandalorians, and be on his way to the Coruscant. He could see that the holonet projected on several screens nearby were focused on that once-beautiful now dying planet. Perhaps if he hurried he could make a good impression with them. With a quick signature and the paper slid back, Crix found himself employed by the Black Sun once more. Later Crix exited the Palace a new bounty hunter. While it was obvious he was still getting used to the new weight on his back, he didn't seem to mind. He hated the fact that it took him longer then expected to rewire it so that way his voice commands from his helmet could activate the piece of equipment. Whatever that 'Canderous' had on it before was good. But not too hard for him. In his right hand Crix still carried the new weapon. He didn't dare try to modify it to replace one of his claws yet. He wanted an expert to do that. It was too precious. Too...occult to be tampered with. Crix looked at the weapon, spinning it over and over, examining every detail. It seemed so simple: this weapon wasn't too complicated, but there was definitely something to it that only an expert could identify. He did examine it closely and was surprised to find two crystal like objects inside: blue and purple. In an attempt to discover their purpose, he activated the blade and found out that a purple blade could be emitted. A truly mysterious weapon. But not as mysterious as the voice that came with it. It had been brief, but instantly recognizable. A mere laugh from a being of power and anger. Then it was gone. But the bounty hunter didn't fear the voice. He reasoned to himself that the effects of the madness on Tatooine were still clutching him and would soon go away when Crix focused on the new task at hand: Infiltrate a warrior people, observe their movements, train with them, inform Black Sun. Crix felt excited as he boarded the "Explorer" Scout Ship, now under his own name. Worn with age and blaster marks from missions passed, Crix was attracted to it for several reasons. Small enough not to be noticed by big ships, fast enough to get to places, and a history of success. He chuckled at the name painted on the side. Truly, a fitting name for one such as he: Reckless Revenge At the controls, he slowly started the machine up, and was soon on his way. (To Coruscant)

Crix's eyes sparkled under his mask at the final words. Every bounty hunter lived for those words. That or the payment from afterwards. But with this payment up front, alongside with what he just earned would let him more than just readjust the jetpack he acquired from the last bounty, and to attach the latest weapon. Such treasure could possibly purchase a some new weapons, or even a small ship to get him across the galaxy. No longer relying on bartering for rides with other people. Crix began to reach for the credit chip and nodded. Crix's imagination kept running with the ideas of what to do with the money. He had to shake himself to focus on the situation though. He looked at the receptionist, whom he liked a bit more now, if only cause she held his payment in front of him. If her title is true, then she sounds like my kind of person, and a possible entry with her people. For a million credits, I'll tell you whatever you want about them.

Crix couldn't hear the Nemodian speak when his grenade landed, but he could imagine his foe's surprise. When the walls began to lower after a series of clanks of someone hitting metal against a wall, Crix smiled to himself. His grenade must have hit the target. A full system reset would naturally occur after a complete power failure from the controller, which the Nemodian must have been carrying. Heck, even the turrets outside the walls were probably resetting. That meant Crix needed to strike now. However, he didn't expect the burst of energy from the Nemodian. If Crix had time, he would've been with the perfect acrobatic roll from his target. However, his combat instincts were working. Even as the Nemodian rolled, Crix dropped to the ground. He was going to have to fire fast. As he fell, he began to bring both arms up, to fire two of his weapons at the Nemodian: The blaster attached to his left wrist, and the nerve gas stored in his robotic hand. The gas would be a slow guarantee kill but the gunshot would make a critical wound. Then the knife was thrown. His instincts took over and he flinched, turning his shoulders and head away, almost feeling the dagger breeze past his face. He wasn't targeting anymore. Crix was firing blindly. In this one brief moment, Crix was unable to do anything but fire his blaster and keep firing at point-blank, while simultaneously release all of the nerve gas stored in his hand. If he could land a hit, maybe the Nemodian would fall. Or if his target could take a slight breath of the gas he released as he fell, he could land and make a shot before something bad happened. At this close of range, a blaster shot from either side could be a killing blow.

Crix chuckled as he heard the exploding grenade and tried to move forward through the maze. He needed to confirm his kill after all. A cut across the throat and then he would be paid handsomely. Helmet, begin to scan Crix muttered in his native Gank, sounding like a mixture of growls and grunts. His helmet beeped in confirmation. While the basic scanner in his armor couldn't make a map of the maze that the Nemodian had made, it would help him find his target at the very least. Judging by the life signs, the Nemodian was still alive. If Crix had to guess, he was just inside the maze now, while Crix was closer to the center. However, his hopes for an easy kill died as he heard the Nemodian shout. His feelings were replaced with shock as the sounds of the floors begin to randomly open up. Crix reflexively took a step back as a platform opened before him. Deadly red and orange flames shot out, a death sentence had Crix stepped forward instead of back. Even here, Crix could feel the heat of the flames. Crix needed to move quickly. He wasn't sure how long the flame traps would stay open, how much fuel they had, and he didn't have time to figure out how long. He needed mobility, and he needed to get his target closer to him. Crix hated that he had to lose his rifle for now, but in attempt to stay mobile, he shoved it into the flame trap in front of him, feeling his fingers get burned slightly. However, he was able to wedge the weapon so that way the floor would be impossible to close for now. The fuel would run out sooner or later, making this spot the one safe spot Crix could depend on later. But he had to let the fuel empty first. The floor behind him was beginning to open, and the floor below was beginning to shake as well. In an instant, Crix activated his boots once more, jumped up and began to move up. He halted just below the top of the walls, remembering how their was practially an army of weapons outside the maze, most likely waiting for him to repeat what he did earlier. The heat from below made the ex-gladiator sweat, but he was used to worse situations. While it would be tiring, Crix could make do with this. And now that he didn't have to carry his rifle around, he had a free hand to balance against the walls. He could stay off the floor for a while. Now to make his prey move closer. Target lifesign. Give estimate for grenade toss. Must fall down onto target Crix again muttered in Gank. The helmet made a quick calculation and fed an estimated throw directly into the bounty hunter's robotic eye replacement. With his free hand, he pulled an ion grenade and activated it. Should he hit the Nemodian, any other 'tricks' he may have could be disabled for a bit, allowing Crix to crawl forward along the walls. If he missed, the Nemodian would be forced to move toward the center of the maze, closer to Crix and possibly into his own traps. With a practiced arm and the help of his helmet's calculations, he tossed the grenade up.

Crix's fingers quickly snatched up the card and pocketed it before a word could be said. Secured and hidden away from any prying eyes, Crix turned his attention back to the receptionist. "Thats a lot of Canderous'es. But the one I encountered seemed a bit more...unique. As Crix listened to what the receptionist said, his eyes widened at the offer of the money. A million credits for six months of spywork? Before I agree to anything, what exactly is Black Sun's relation with these... Mandalorians? And this ex-agent...what's her story? Crix hated jumping into situations without the full story, but this job offer sounded more than interesting. To go work with a warrior culture, possibly learning something new about fighting, gather information about what they were doing, and be paid a million credits for 6 months was a hard tempation to resist, especially for Crix who understood the power of money.

Crix's rifle began to open fire as the doors closed. He aimed and pulled the trigger simultaneously, but was annoyed when the Nemodian reacted with the floors rising as makeshift walls. Under his helmet he smiled. This wasn't going to be as easy as he thought. Then the turrets began to fire. One shot glanced off of Crix's shoulder. The force made Crix take a step back but beyond that the damage was fairly minimal. Just a burn mark, nothing more. But as the turrets continued to fire, Crix's instincts came to life. Years in gladiatorial arenas taught him that in a firefight, either shoot the guy shooting you or get cover. And the Nemodian had provided some perfect cover with his make-shift maze. Crix dashed forward, receiving another blow to the back. While the armor prevented the worst of the shot, it did burn slightly. Crix ignored the pain as he entered the maze, rifle in one hand. Between two opposing walls, he began to activate his magnetization boots, a cybernetic enhancement often used in zero gravity environments. However, Crix had often discovered all enhancements had duel uses. He jumped up, placed a boot on the wall, and then while his foot got a grip, released the boot's magnetization to push again, using his other leg on the opposing wall. This 'wall hopping' allowed him to reach the tops. Popping out just for a moment before falling back to the ground, Crix had pulled a concussion grenade off his belt and flung it to where he had last saw the Nemodian. Maybe he could take the Nemodian out right away, or at the very least, force him to join Crix in the maze.

Crix breathed and muttered to himself as he checked his rifle again, making sure the power pack was secure and fully charged. Enough shots to take down a small army if necessary and used correctly. His fingers, plated with the robotic enhancements, slowly rubbed over the name engraved. He smiled to himself, remembering Folso's death. That was a brutal kill, one hard earned. Course, back when he had made the kill, Crix was in a blind rage and nearly died from wounds, but now he could look back fondly at the kill, though hints of rage always came through. Crix couldn't help but think of the scream his comrade made as his own blades found their target, and the taking of the weapon to be used against the other traitors. Crix shoved the memory aside and rechecked the weapon. Now was no time to look at the past. He had a job to do. And an interesting one at that. He remembered how on Nar Shaddaa he had been contacted by a Noghri. This had surprised Crix for two reasons. In his experience, he was the person hired to kill a Noghri would be assassin, not the other way around. From Crix's experience, the Noghri were lethal killers and sentient predators, not too unlike Ganks. When someone hired Crix, it usually was to kill or collect someone and a Noghri would usually not need help with that. The second reason was because Noghri and Ganks didn't typically associate with each other. As similar as they could be being predators and killers, the two species were like two opposite sides of a coin. Ganks were known to hunt in teams, communicating with each other seamlessly as they would close in on their bounties. Noghri were a bit more....adabtable. Certainly some worked with teams, but to Crix's knowledge, the Noghri worked as lone assassins. Ganks had focused exclusively on enhancements, modifications and technology, where the Noghri had perfected their natural tools of tooth, claw and scent. Not to mention, Ganks rarely cared about honor, but the Noghri cared deeply about honor. Ganks and Noghri were two different breeds of hunters to say the least. So when two of these assassins approached him with a job offer, Crix was curious. The job offer was a challenge. Their employer needed a challenge in his, what they could only describe as, arena. They had seen Crix fight in arena's before against various beasts and gladiators, and when they had heard Crix had slaughtered his own teammates, they claimed Crix was the ideal candidate for the arena. "After all, an individual who has gone up against threats like reeks, nexus, sibian hounds, not to mention all those bounties, would be able to handle a situation where everything is against him" the female Noghri smiled coyly, her teeth wide with pleasure. If Crix understood correctly, their employer, a Nemodian, would have control over the arena and all of its weapons and features. Crix merely had to survive it and attempt to kill the Nemodian. If he succeeded, he would get a sizable profit. If not, well, then the Noghri would be happy knowing their employer's confidence wasn't for nothing. And so here Crix stood, the elevator moving upwards slowly. He triple checked his rifle and this time his hand went to his disruptor, making sure the hidden illicit weapon was still secure. Grenades to control distance, a bomb pack for a finishing blow or to create cover with debris, vibrodaggers for all ranges, wrist blades, disruptor for the more difficult weapons of the room, magnaboots, robotic eye....he had the distinct feeling that he was going to use it all. Under his mask he smiled. A worthy challenge since the death of his team. The elavator stopped and before him the doors opened, revealing the room. Rifle in hand, powered and at the ready, stepped in. He wasn't to start shooting until the Noghri had stepped out of the room and the door closed. Then all hell would break loose.

As Crix got off the freighter, not even nodding to the driver or the Ugnaught passenger, his thoughts were about how heavy the jetpack he carried on his back was. It had been empty of fuel to help carrying it, but since it had not been adjusted to a being of his size or stature yet, it was slightly unbalanced for him to carry. Still, after he turned in the bounty, the credits would go towards repairing and adjusting it for him. Just as long no one challenged him before then, everything would be fine. Crix could see the palace in the distance. Gamblers and bouncers were still around, no doubt so were the pickpockets. Little changed since Crix had left. He was fine with that. Maybe Nar Shaddaa would be the same. Crix did have to stop once, not out of tiredness but because he could've sworn he saw that brown rodent who tried to robbed him before. A glare and a scan made him realize he had the wrong rodent. Still, he never could have been too careful. When the rodent gave a rude gesture to the gank for staring, Crix simply growled, and began to grab that weapon he had grabbed from Tatooine. But he stopped short as he brought it out. The pain over his body made him pause. The burns were still hindering him slightly. A feeling began to build inside of him. A burning rage, still hot from the wounds on Tatooine. But this rage felt aimless. The Chandra-fan was certainly a target for rage, but a pointless one. No one else was staring at the Gank and the Chandra-fan was most likely harmless. Why the unnecessary rage? He shoved the thoughts aside, placed the weapon back at his side and moved onwards to the Palace. As he entered and found another receptionist, he groaned inside at seeing it was the same one as before and not a replacement. I'm here about the bounty on Roarer or however you pronounce his name Crix said, carelessly dropping a copy of the holovid from his helmet. The Holovid contained the entire bounty from when he had gotten onto Tatooine. It Black Sun Superior's wanted to review his work, they would see Crix's work with the flying beast, the ghosts and the fight alongside the Mandalore (if they registered at all on the holovid), and the death in the cavern. Crix had manually edited the file so that way it ended before he had grabbed the weapon. This should be enough proof of his death. I'm here for my payment, as well as any information about a Canderous of Mandalore Crix wondered if Canderous had any bounties on him or not, but even if he didn't it wouldn't hurt to check.

As the Gank limped through the desert towards where the corpse of the beast he slew and the speeder just a little beyond it, his thoughts were all over the place. At first, he tried to just focus on going forward to the speeder. Ignore everything else, just get to the speeder, get back to the town, get a ship, get to Black Sun headquarters, get his bounty... but he was stopped short in these thoughts. He didn't really have a plan for after collecting the bounty. Sure, maybe go get an upgrade, but even after that, then what? Another bounty for Black Sun? If all of these bounties for the criminal organization were this damaging, he may as well as gone back to working for the hutts. And when Crix was honest with himself, he didn't like that idea at all. Black Sun held a more prestigious title for Bounty Hunters, at least to Crix. Anyone could work effectively for a Hutt. So Crix distracted himself and tried to think on the upgrades he could get for himself. He was decent enough with cybernetics that he could install them onto his own armor. A flamethrower would be simple, except figuring out where to place the fuel of course. But something really powerful, more Gank-esque would require some technique. A cardiac accelerator, pressurized artificial lungs, pressurized armor...all of that was beyond his capabilities. He'd probably have to go back to his own home world of Nar Shaddaa. He wondered if that planet was still under control of the Imperial Remnant. It might be a good place to visit after this job anyway, go someplace familiar where he could recuperate before figuring out what would happen next. There was the new weapon though. Crix looked down at his hand that still gripped the black hilt. Such a fascinating weapon. He didn't dare take it apart to try to learn it's secrets and risk unable to fully understand and recreate it. But perhaps he could try to install it into his armor later on. How much technique would that require? Crix eventually reached the corpse of the flying beast. As he walked up to it, he chuckled. Your master is dead. You did nothing to stop me. He kicked the corpse for good measure and almost spat on it. But it didn't feel right to him. This victory still felt tainted. That voice....that presence had done something to the Gank. Addled his mind and filled it with doubt. But the presence wasn't around now. Why did Crix still feel off? This wasn't like back during his gladiatorial days. Back then the crowds would chant his name, roar with approval, clap for him, bang the ground in appreciation for the show he put on. And his teammates would always congratulate him and they would drink together... Crix shook his head and banished those pleasant memories. The traitorous dead did not deserve anything good, not even a pleasant thought about the 'good old times'. He bent over and picked up the repeating blaster rifle he had left. The speeder was in sight now. Just a little farther and Crix could make it back to the town. But even as Crix loaded the speeder up with his equipment, his helmet’s scanner beeped at the arrival of something new. Non lifeforms moving on their own accord. Droids by the looks of it. Near the now collapsed cavern… Crix didn’t think he simply jumped into the speeder and sped towards the site. Within a minute he came upon the sight of three probe droids around the entrance of the cave. Crix saw them busy at work on the slightly singed corpse of the warrior who had committed suicide. As they worked expertly with the precision of a surgeon’s hands, they removed the equipment that the warrior had carried. At any other time, Crix would’ve stopped and wondered what was this. Some new salvaging technique of native jawas? But he didn’t. Instead he stood from the speeder and began to step out, opening fire on the metal beings. The droids, not expecting this, began to try to fly away, having gotten most of what they had come for, leaving the corpse behind. But as Crix continued to fire, one of his shots hit the last one to leave. He watched as the droid’s motors failed to keep a grip on what looked like a jetpack and dropped it into the sands below. But it did not attempt to retrieve the equipment. Quietly, Crix watched the droids fly away. Crix cursed the droids, having robbed some of the possessions that he had missed earlier, but didn’t dwell on it. He instead wasted no time in collecting the battered jetpack. Those droids may have returned with reinforcements and Crix wanted to get off this blasted planet alive. Several hours later, with the speeder returned and Crix some credits lighter, he found himself a ship to take him back to Ord Mantell. With a sigh, he closed his eyes in relaxation. But the images of his old teammates haunted his dreams with eyes of fire and bodies of sand. And there was the presence of something darker.

As the vibroblade sailed through the air, Crix was surprised at the sudden movement and noise that uttered from the Tusken. Crix’s gladiatorial instincts began to kick in once again, guiding his actions to safety. As the blade of purple and blue energy erupted from the strange device that he had noted before, Crix began to jump up and backwards to safety. However, he growled slightly in pain as the blade grazed and touched the bottom of his right foot, the leg beginning to malfunction. This day had been a painful day. Picking himself up from the ground, Crix growled in anger and frustration. This prey was not supposed to be this difficult. He should’ve been dead already, the knife was just a killing blow. However, his helmet beeped once again; the life sign was nearly gone. He glanced at the Tusken and smiled again. Death was still death, especially for a traitor. You really think you can stop me? Crix began to growl. He stepped forward towards the soon-to-be corpse. This time there wasn’t going to a knife throw. His right wrist blade extended. Decapitation was the best way for this being to go out. Not blood loss. Crix was going to make the Tusken’s body match his blue-haired lover, and take back to Black Sun the perfect trophy. You are dead you dirty sandper... And then, in the stillness of the cave, awash with the dark side energies of eons gone by, Crix was fully enveloped in a moment of pure unadulterated silence as the Tusken drew his final last ragged breath and passed into the realms beyond. And then, that moment of silence was gone, replaced by an otherworldly shriek that was like nothing Crix had ever heard inside the arena or out, a cry that made his fur stand on end. Where the body of the Tusken had lay in a pool of blood, a blast erupted, like that of a birthing star, eating the naked body of the Tusken up in a mere second and lapping up the blood on the stones as it erupted outwards in all directions consuming everything in a tidal force of unblockable dark side fire and electricity. Stones were licked clean of soot and debris, bones cleared of flesh just before they too were dissolved in the maddening eruption of hate fueled by eons of dark passion and loathing. Even the beskar that lay in the cave was superheated and reduced to piles of molten metal that hissed away into steaming vapors or melted into the freshly cracked stones at the onslaught of the power. Anything that had the chance to explode, quickly succumbed as well. When the dark side grieved, nothing was safe. It was before this wave of super powered energy that Crix’s training was unequipped to save him. Crix was momentarily blinded by the energy as the gladiator turned bounty hunter was sent arcing through the air for not the first time that day and out the slim cave entrance to land with a crash on the scorching sands of Tatooine as the very earth and ground shook at the waves of power that radiated from the cave. Crix’s body burned in pain as his flesh literally began to burn away. His singular unending scream echoes across the night sky as he frantically tried to put himself out, slapping at his exposed flesh and rolling in the sand, prying pieces of armor off to get at singed flesh beneath. It took only a moment to mostly extinguish himself, but the pain lingered. He attempted to slow his breathing, but found he was unable to focus. His annoyance and rage kept driving his mind elsewhere. He couldn’t help but think at how underpriced this bounty had become. First the beast, then the madness, then the suicidal warrior... He would have a word with a Black Sun representative when he returned to Ord Mantell. Then the rumblings occurred. From the ground, Crix raised his head and watched as the cavern collapsed in on itself, weakened from the explosion; a thundering of earth, stone and dust, shooting plumes of fiery burning sand and stone into the air as the final resting place of so many warriors was buried for good. He lay still in a mixture of shock and pain as rocks fell to the empty places where the corpses had been. The earth inside shook more and more as the walls became weaker and weaker. Within moments, the entrance fell, ensuring a complete cave-in. There was a moment of stillness in the desert air. All Crix could do was lay there, trying to process what had just happened. And then it happened again, that same heavy feeling he had felt when the madness had seemed to overtake him; but this time none of his surroundings changed. He was alone against the sands. The warm night winds of the desert planet brushed by. Carried on those tendrils of warmth was an unmistakable voice; a voice of power and anger; a voice that did not belong of this world: ”You fool. No mere mortal can stop the will of darkness! Now you shall carry the mantle intended for another!!” And then as the voice drifted away with the winds as quickly and readily as it had come, Crix heard the soft thud of an item landing in the sand next to him, a fine spray of course crystals rat-tat-tatting against his armor. There, in the sand next to his robotic hand, lay the blackened hilt of the weapon that the Tusken had tried to fell him with. Slowly, still lying on the ground, he reached over and picked it up. His metal shrouded finger slowly thumbed a single switch on the side, an artic blue blade illuminated the Gank and the sands around him with an otherworldly glow. ”You are mine.” Crix stood and held the blade before him. For a moment, he could only stare at the blade in awe. He had never seen such a weapon. In all his years of fighting, whether for the entertainment of the crowds in the arena or the slaughtering of bounties for the Hutts, he had never gazed at such a thing. He had fought against beings utilizing teeth and claws, pikes, vibroblades, axes, and blasters...but this. Even his own ‘claws’ paled in comparison. The moment passed, replaced with a sense of hatred. I am not yours! I am my own! I am Nexu! and with that, he roared his roar. Like with the beast he slayed earlier, it was a predatory roar of dominance and victory; but even as his voice carried across the cloudless landscape, whoever or whatever had spoken to him, the presence, was gone. Crix didn’t even feel like his comrades were watching. He was alone again. Crix thumbed the weapon and the blade vanished. He sighed, shaking his head then growling in pain at his injuries. This entire job had gone poorly. He didn’t even have the corpse of that Canderous or any equipment to salvage. Heck, besides this weapon, he had no proof that the Tusken was even dead. He hated to admit it, but his first bounty for Black Sun may have been a failure. Unless.... Computer, have you been recording this bounty? His helmet beeped once in confirmation. POST COWRITTEN WITH RRURORRURRR

As Canderous shot himself with his own slug thrower, several thoughts ran through Crix's head. When the warrior drew his weapon, Crix immediately thought that perhaps this was an elaborate trap, all set by the Tusken. This person was drawing their weapon to kill Crix here and now, at a moment when Crix was surprised by the dead corpse. It made sense in the Gank's mind. Teammates betrayed for money. Why wouldn't a stranger? As the shot began to fire, aimed at the user's own heart in an attempt of suicide, Crix' thoughts turned to how maybe this was an extension of the 'madness' he had experienced earlier. Maybe Crix had taken it better then Canderous had. After all, this was a strange day. Crix had disintegrated the head of a flying beast who's corpse nearly crushed him, fought the ghosts from his past, was nearly killed by other ghosts of some aquatic species, and just witnessed what looked like a Tusken killing his lover. All within a few hours. Any normal individual would've been driven mad. But Canderous didn't strike Crix as a mad individual, or a weak-willed one. He was a warrior who was able to deal with the harshness of life. Maybe Crix was imagining this too? But yet, this warrior was much more real compared to the ghosts earlier. As the shot tore through the other side of the warrior's body, the next thought that ran through Crix' head was that of pity. What the warrior said, about leading people to death. If this was a true suicide, the warrior was killing himself out of guilt. Here this man was, a strong warrior who should've been proud of his fighting, giving in to guilt. Crix felt sorry for the warrior. What a pathetic way to go. Still, Crix didn't like this feeling. The feeling of pity passed quickly however. If the warrior was killing himself because he was blaming himself for the Tusken killing his lover, then he must have been a friend with the traitor. Yes, that was it. Crix didn't need to feel pity nor attachment to this warrior. He was simply an ally with his bounty. His death would've been inevitable. This simply made it easier for Crix to collect his bounty. The final thought Crix had as the corpse fell was one of profit. Maybe something extra Crix thought, eyeing the corpse. Crix would ask Black Sun if there was a bounty on a Canderous, saying he met the individual on his hunt, and if so, he could prove 'he' killed him. If not, Crix would mention how the warrior killed himself, and maybe Crix could talk about how the warrior admired Crix's efficiency and earn some recognition with Black Sun. A Win-Win situation for the bounty hunter. And those weapons could sell for something nice. And that jetpack. Crix wondered if he would need to get it repaired and refitted. Crix stood a moment in silence, looking at the dead body of Canderous. The starry night was eerily quiet. But Crix's thoughts suddenly remembered the reason he was here in the first place. Oh yes, nearly forgot about you Crix spoke out loud to his prey, unnaturally happy. He had a bounty in the palm of his hand, the corpse of someone who would either bring riches or credit, and the satisfaction of being able to enjoy this. As he walked forward into the cave, he pulled a vibrodagger from his leg and began to tap it on the metal of his armor. The cave echoed the clinks. As each one echoed, he imagined the faces of his dead comrades, and smiled. The voices weren't speaking to him. No, now Crix was speaking to them by speaking to the Tusken. I just want you to know, that this is a bit personal for me As Crix walked forward, he gently kicked the dismembered head aside. I mean, you are a traitor, and I have a thing about traitors. The thing about them is that they don't deserve life. They don't deserve anything. They deserve.. Crix stopped to think of the right word. A word for death. But he could'n't get the basic version of it. He would have to use the Gank word for it. Kre'lga. Its a word for death. A brutal, unceremonious, unfulfilling death. Course you will get something better. Your death fulfills two things Crix's robotic eye highlighted something for the Gank. He looked at the Tusken's hand to see a cylindrical metal object. Some sort of weapon? Crix looked at it intently. He wasn't familiar with it and was a little curious. But it didn't distract him from talking to his prey. With his dagger in right hand, he turned it on, the edges of the blade glowing slightly as well as an engraved name on the side. A perfect killing tool for close range, but also, for Crix's preferred method with daggers. The first thing your death does is that it fulfills my need for credits. Black Sun has a nice bounty on you, and I always could use some extra money to pay off for some more enhancements. A Gank has to keep upgrading. But your death, see, it fulfills something greater for me At this point, Crix was standing a ten feet away from the Tusken. It was a good thing the mask hid Crix's face: a grinning devilish row of teeth was hidden underneath, like a Nexu about to strike from the trees. He rose his arm, preparing to throw, aiming for the neck. Killing you fills me with a sense of rightness. It confirms my superiority. When I kill you, I kill a traitor, and remind my dead comrades that I am better. His wrist pulled back, preparing to loose the dagger toward his prey, the name of Farsek glowing glinting on it. I am better than all of them. And with those words, Crix sent the weapon sailing towards the Tusken's neck, aided by his robotic eye and passion to kill the traitor where he lay. <>

Crix grunted to the comment from Canderous, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Crix wasn't exactly the person who cared about things like honor, unless it came from completing a job. True, he didn't betray people needlessly, but he didn't take a sense of pride in his work. In the gladiatorial ring, those who had 'honor' typically got killed by the less honorable. And in bounty hunting, honor was a luxury, not a necessity or something beneficiary. However, Canderous was right about the pay. This job would afford him a few new implants. Crix couldn't help but momentarily imagine a new weapon for his wrist. A flamethrower would've been really useful in that madness fight. So you were the leader of your people Crix commented. What happened, you got too old fo- When Canderous rushed off ahead of him, Crix hurried after. He couldn't help but notice how this other warrior suddenly ran with a sense of fear or panic. Crix guessed that he was probably concerned for his friend the Tusken or the blue haired, but why rush now? Why not earlier? Crix arrived at the entrance to the caverns slightly behind Canderous and opened his eyes a bit in surprise. The cavern was momentarily bathed in an unnatural mauve, only to quickly be encased in darkness. But in that moment, Crix saw. There was blood on the ground. The air....it was different. It was like before, during the madness. Heavy, though less so. But as Crix looked into the cave, he saw two falling forms, one easily identified as a tusken, stained with blood. The other, a mutilated corpse. At that moment, his sensor in his helmet stopped revealing one of the life signs, indicating something was dead or dying. It was obvious what was the cause. He could see the head rolling slowly towards him and Canderous, coming to a complete stop, its face pointed towards the former Mandalore. The head of a human, which Crix supposed had blue hair. He couldn't help but utter outloud, reflecting on what the Cantina owner said. Some lover's quarrel. He had seen and hunted scumbags before. This was like no other. Except that Crix wanted to kill him before turning him in. Crix instinctively flexed his fists twice, arming his wrist laser and the sleeping darts in his robotic hand. Grass grow. Birds fly. Traitors betray. Crix hunted. Crix's robotic eye implant flickered to night vision, allowing his own vision to pierce the blackness. He waited a moment to see how Canderous reacted to this grim scene.

Crix grew annoyed at the laughter. It was a good thing Ganks never showed their skin, cause if Canderous could've seen his face, he would've seen a look of annoyance. I don't know, I only recently started working for them as a grunt. Crix replied to the first question. This person definitely acted like he was a part of Black Sun, but that could mean many things and that raised some questions. Why would an ex-member of Black Sun be working with a traitor of Black Sun? Surely this individual knew there was a bounty on the Tusken? But then again...maybe he hadn't been working with Black Sun for a while. Maybe, he betrayed Black Sun with the Tusken. Sure, he claimed to have no connection with him, but men lied. Palms are easily greased. Money speaks in volumes to people. Crix knew that from experience. Still, the man had slightly lowered his guard and reveal his face. That was something to say the least to the Gank. Sounds like then you need my help to find them Crix began to lower his weapons. The slight gesture of trust from Canderous would be enough for now, especially when Crix explained why he needed him. The Sands on Tatooine can make it hard to track people, but thankfully, I've had to track people here before. I doubt they have gone far. Especially since his beast is dead Crix thought to himself. Crix glanced around and lowered fully, retracting all of his weapons for the moment. If the warrior shot him, then so be it, but as far as Crix could tell, he was out here with no options. Besides, Crix needed to hurry to find a trail. True, the winds of Tattooine were nasty, and Tuskens were good at traveling through the desert to hide their numbers, but Crix doubted that the female warrior would be as hard to track. His scanner wasn't picking up any other life signs immediately nearby. A couple of distant ones, but they could've been animals for all he knew. He just needed... There! The sand was broken in a continuous line, as if something was being dragged. Quite widely too. Crix walked slowly towards it, aware that he could easily get shot in the back. He bent down, taking note of how the trail was made. Short smooth areas with sudden stops. There were small indents from something round. Whoever was dragging the object was struggling. Either they were wounded, which would explain how their were markings of something like a walking stick or a rifle to help pull forward, or the object was extremely heavy and the individual pulling the load was just weak. Either way, it was good news for Crix. He couldn't help but smile under his helmet. Crix followed the trail slowly with his eyes, tracing it across the dark sands. One end came from near the Krayt, where the trail was lost in all of the action done on the sands by the two warriors. However, the other way led around dune bases. Crix tried to project the trail with what lifesigns were showing on his scanner. It could see there was something, though somewhat distant. He stood up, gestured to the other warrior to follow, and began to make his way. Tell me Canderous, what is a Mandalore?

Crix was not intimidated when the other brought his weapons up. An appropriate response. Too bad it didn't make Crix any happier. Slowly, he stepped circulary as well, imitating Canderous. Not as something to gain an advantage but instead to appear as an equal. Force of habit he supposed. He did it all the time in the arenas. Crix quickly reasoned that coming out and saying that Black Sun had a bounty on the Tuskan was probably not the wisest idea, especially if this warrior was a friend or teammate. While Crix didn't doubt that his own blaster would be lethal this close, he also knew beyond doubt that Canderous' weapons could do the same. Crix didn't want to die before his bounty was done. Black Sun has some kind of official business with him and hired me to find him. Crix brought his voice down from a shout to a more conversational tone. I'm just doing what I'm told to do. Bring the Tuskan to Mantell. Crix continued to circle with the warrior, like some hostile dance, to the rhythm of tension. What's your relationship with him anyways? You and the blue haired? It made Crix a little nervous that he hadn't seen the blue haired individual the cantina owner mentioned. The lover. Course, Crix hadn't even seen the Tuskan either, though his personal beast was dead in the sands by Crix own hands. Crix needed some information before he did anything else. Did you three take out that ugly thing? Crix motioned with his head towards the dead Krayt to his left.

Then there was nothing. Crix stood still for a moment, glancing around, trying to make sense of the situation. It was....impossible. What happened? One moment there were things, not real things, fighting and trying to kill the gladiator, the next they were gone. One moment, Crix was using his deadly claws to kill fish-men, the next he stood in the open, the corpses of beasts not far. The air felt different. Lighter, more natural. Crix hadn't noticed how the air after he had escaped the first beast's corpse had felt different. His very essence could tell the difference. And the voices...they were gone. What in the cruls is... Crix cursed in his native tongue, loud enough to be heard. He didn't know if he should just turn and run back to the speeder and get off this demented planet, continue to chase after his prey, or maybe just give in to whatever madness he just endured. However, as he thought, the prevailing thought of catching a traitor pushed to the front of his mind. These events, whether it was a brief period of madness or some elaborate trick, would not stop him. His scanner beeped, making Crix remember that he wasn't alone. He turned and looked at the other warrior a few meters away. He was still here. This...Mandalore was real. Unlike those other things and the ghosts of his old teammates. His skills were real too. He fought bravely. He would answer... You! Canderous! Crix pointed his arm towards the warrior, laser at the ready for any sudden movement. At any other time, Crix may have asked nicely and not raised a weapon in a threatening manner, but the stress of the entire situation had built on him. He wasn't going to hesitate to fire if he needed. At this close, he was somewhat confident he could do some damage. What is going on here? Where is the tuskan? Where is Roarer?