Open Bail Jumper

[Morgan Gannik]

Location: Ord Cantrell

"I don't know where she is!" the diminutive vendor yelled.

Morgan glanced over the edge of the work surface behind which a small blue-skinned humanoid was cowering. The numerous marks around the alien's mouth and nose marked it as a chem user and a prolific one. "You've got the same dealer. I'll take their location or contact." he grabbed them by the back of their coat and hauled them up on top of their work surface with an easy motion of his right harm.

"You're pissing me off." he sneered. He pulled out his Peacemaker from its holster and wedged it under the humanoid's chin. "I'm going to count to five. After then, my trigger fingers going to start getting twitchy." He shifted his weight to bear down on his captive's chest.

"The contact, now." he reminded the humanoid, releasing the safety catch of his pistol and starting to put pressure on the trigger as he began to count down from five.

With only a few seconds of hesitation, his captive blurted out a stream of numbers. Morgan released his grip and stepped back.

"There, that wasn't so hard."

"Go fu -"

"Can it slime-ball."

"Unk!"

The humanoid toppled backwards over his workstation as Morgan planted his fist firmly into its face, cutting them off mid-sentance. "You're lucky I don't ice you." he spat, turning away from the whimpering vendor, and tracing the contact he had been provided.

 

[Morgan Gannik]

The tracing program took a matter of moments to bring up the estimated location of the contact. A low-level chem peddler on Ord Cantrell, a Twi'lek named 'Orochi'. Morgan sneered as an old bounty record-flared HUD matched the identity of the chem peddler he needed to see. He wondered if the scum-bag would be offended if Morgan told them it wasn't their bounty he was after?

He had bigger fish to fry.

Continuing through the bazaar, Morgan followed a mapped-out route, the quickest to get him through the hodge-podge of stalls, makeshift tents, and to the dealer's den. Again, Morgan made rapid progress; it must have taken him slightly under ten minutes to high-tail it out of the bazaar. Down the backend of a street, an odd name penned out in Aurebesh on the wall. Finally, he came up to a boarded-up building which, based on the graffiti on the wall, was a chem-house.

"No borgs."

Morgan rolled his eyes and turned to face the spaced-out Rodian that had made the remark. He was standing as part of a posse of three of his peers, green-grey skinned aliens with burn marks around their mouths and the tell-tale twitch of a life-long addict.

"You hear me? I said no 'borgs."

It chittered at him again. Blocking his entrance to the chem house.

"Unfortunate," Morgan replied, a steel edge to his tone as he took a menacing step forward. "Looks like I'll need to get my fix someplace else."

"Yeah, now kark o -"

Morgan moved quickly, slapping his right hand into the side of the lead Rodians face, stunning the creature even as it spiralled into the floor. He wasted no time relishing his display of physical prowess and moved the moment his hand struck the animal's face. Barrelling into the second Rodian, he headbutted them, even as he drove his left knee up and into their belly.

Conscious of the third Rodian's efforts to reach, as if in a panic, for its blaster, he pivoted his victim around, grabbing the back of their neck. He positioned the creature he had recently headbutted between his own body and the third Rodians, now armed frame. Drawing his own weapon with his free hand, he let a single bolt fly out and into the left leg of his armed and final foe, who crumpled to the floor.

Dropping his Rodian shield, he kicked his downed assailant's weapon away. "Get out of here," he commanded the trio of unfortunates, who almost fell over one another in their efforts to oblige, scrabbling down the alleyway with reckless abandon.

Morgan turned and walked into the chem-den.

 

[Skolas]

It had been a while since Skolas took up the Hunt to add to his collection of grotesque trophies. Today, however, would be another testament against his King that no one could stop the will of the Hunt. A Twi'lek drug dealer was a lowly target, but if Skolas wanted to go big, he'd need to start small. He already bore three humanoid skulls, dangling by his waist. One from a Trandoshan, one from a Wookiee, and one from a Karkarodon. Each had a story and held a special significance to the Yautja.

Competition... Skolas had been behind another mercenary who kicked the shit out of a few Rodians. Was he after the same target? Didn't matter- if he got in the Yautja's way, there would be hell to pay. Then, Morgan entered the very building Skolas had been trying to get into. Hmm... Good competition. Skolas decided to follow after the merc, but kept his distance so Morgan wouldn't know he was being tailed. He'd let the heavily armored mercenary clear a path to the target before taking what was rightfully his.

Any bait...is good bait...

@Nor'baal

 

[Morgan Gannik]

With his path into the den now unimpeded, Morgan headed inside. Approaching the front door, which slid open on a rusty mechanism, he kept his peacemaker in his hand and briefly gasped when the stench of burned-out chem tubes struck him. The den was a drab affair, the entrance door heading to a flight of grimy stairs after a few paces, a doorframe on the right leading into a dimly lit room filled with occupied mattresses and discarded chem units.

He pressed on, moving up the stairs as quietly as he could. What awaited him at their summit was no less disgusting than the ground floor had led him to imagine. An open plan room filled with occupied mattresses, at the back, a small office 'walled' off by a dirty curtain, half-drawn. He clocked his target, the two-bit Twi'lek dealer, who called this place home.

"Don't even think about it, slime-ball." he reprimanded the man as they looked up and, in shock, twitched their hand toward the blaster pistol on the desk behind which they sat. He kept his own weapon levelled at the Twi'lek. "I'm looking for one of your regulars. Give me what I need, and I won't claim the bounty on your head." Morgan instructed as the Twi'lek gulped and weighed his options.

 

[Skolas]

Drug dens never made sense to Skolas. They always looked like hobo-cities and could easily be run down by just a few local police. If these lowly spice dealers were anything like the Pykes, they would build stronger walls around their chemical 'feel-goods'. However, it wouldn't matter what happened to anyone in here today. The Hunt had just begun and the Hunter felt it coming to a quick close. Following Morgan was easier than expected- no one thought twice about the two new faces, and that was probably because everyone in here was drugged out of their minds.

Skolas stopped to watch Morgan go up a flight of stairs, entering a ramshackle office. That had to be where the Twi'lek was... So, the Yautja quietly made his up the stairs and stopped a few steps from the top, so he could peek over and watch to see what the other merc would do next. Surprisingly, Morgan seemed to be after a different target than who Skolas was after. Curiosity piqued the mind of the Hunter. Maybe... Maybe this other mercenary could be more than just bait.

"Give the man what he wants," Grumbled the Yautja as he entered the office room behind Morgan. With a quick flick of the wrist, Skolas's Yautkan blades flayed out of their sockets for added intimidation. "Then you come with me."

@Nor'baal

 

[Morgan Gannik]

Morgan had not foreseen that he was being followed. A reckless mistake, and one he would do his best to avoid making in future. Becoming aware of the Yuatja as it reached the top of the stairs, given away by its heavy footsteps, Morgan drew a second firearm, an R-799 micro-missile gun. He pointed it at Skolas the moment he spoke.

He quickly ran some mental calculations as to how this particular showdown could go. As it stood, there was no way his informant could give him the information he needed without revealing it to Skolas. This would not be favourable for him, presenting an unnecessary layer of competition as he entered the next phase of the hunt.

Both he and Skolas had weapons trained on one another. There was a distinct chance that, unless he was careful, this could go south very quickly. "Are you with the guild?" he asked the other Hunter, keen to ascertain just what sort of person he was dealing with.

 

[Skolas]

With eyes glowering from behind his mask, Skolas held his gaze on the Twi'lek- the target. After Morgan made his show of force and drew a micro missile launcher, the Mercenary curled his fingers and cracked his knuckles while keeping them steadily at his side. There would be no need for extra drops of blood today, and hopefully Morgan felt the same way. Instead of escalating the situation, Skolas jerked his head to the side as a gesture for Morgan to stand down.

"Get that out of my face," Was the response Skolas retorted to Morgan with a gravely hiss. "And let me take that scum-bag's head back to the Taskmaster who ordered it on a spike." Hopefully, that would answer the other hunter's question. The Yautja assumed that neither party wanted to engage with one another, and it just so happened that they had a common enemy. Skolas would be bitter about sharing the reward, but if it had to be done to prevent a crossfire, then he would do it.

However, the more Skolas began thinking about the situation, the less it made sense to him. Why would Morgan leave the dealer conscious instead of stunning him or outright killing him altogether? What was the other Mercenary after that Skolas didn't know about? What laid ahead on this strange hunt?

 

[Morgan Gannik]

With Skolas not rising to the threat and signalling that he had no interest in a conflict, Morgan stowed his micro-rocket launcher and returned his focus to the Twi'lek. "I'll make this simple, he gives me what I want, then he's all yours," Morgan stated rhetorically "- I'm looking for this one."

Facing the Twi'lek, Morgan produced his Nalphone from his belt. Keeping it from facing Skolas, he showed the Twi'lek the face of his intended target. Being one of the Twi'lek's former customers, Morgan was confident the creature would know who he was looking for. "Write down their address, now," he instructed, gesturing to a piece of scrap paper in front of the Twi'lek as he returned the Nalphone to its pocket.

As soon as the Twi'lek was done, Morgan snatched up the piece of paper and stowed it away.

"He's all yours." the mercenary nodded as Skolas, walking past him, and back down the stairs.

 

[Skolas]

Whatever Morgan was after... it still piqued the Yautja's mind. They did not need to be enemies however, and Skolas was glad the Cyborg allowed Skolas to finish the Hunt when he was finished grabbing whatever information he needed. It must have been important enough to spare the Twi'lek- and maybe it was something Skolas didn't need at all. Either way, he'd have the dealer's head and that was all that mattered right now.

As soon as Morgan gave the word, Skolas wasted no time and lunged across the room, slashing with his claws, cleaving the drug dealer's head from his shoulders before he could do as much as a scream. After cleaning the blood of his claws, he placed the head and sliced lekku of the Twi'lek into a sack and tied it shut. There would be no trophy from such a lowly bottom feeder.

"I am Skolas," The Yautja said after catching up with the other Mercenary. "If you don't need assistance, I'll leave you be. The first is job is always free, however." If Morgan said no, Skolas wouldn't bat an eye, but it was always worth expanding the list of colleagues you could use to help you take down a tyrant of a king. That was oddly specific, wasn't it?

@Nor'baal

 

[Morgan Gannik]

Stopping out the front of the chem-den, Morgan leaned against the wall to the right of the doorframe. Then, lighting a stim, he waited, assuming Skolas would follow him downstairs once he had collected his contract. "Good for you," Morgan replied, not giving his name in response as he considered what the Bounty Hunters offered.

Despite what Skolas had said, Morgan knew there was no such thing as 'free help'. On the one hand, having an extra gun on a job like this was always helpful. On the other hand, it placed him in debt to a complete stranger - something Morgan had no intention of doing.

"Five-hundred credits," Morgan offered, his voice gruff as if to suggest the offer was not negotiable "I don't take on help without paying for it. You in?"

 

[Skolas]

"Deal." Five-hundred credits wasn't much, but maybe the partnership could prove to be more beneficial. "Who are you hunting?" Skolas didn't need to know why- he could care less for moral codes. The Yautkan believed that the weak were meant to be preyed upon and the strong were meant to be predators. If their new target was weak, then the Hunt would teach them their place on the food chain.

"What do they call you, Code-Hunter?" The nickname came from the fact that Morgan had computer attached to the back of his head. Hopefully Code-Hunter wouldn't mind. Skolas liked the nice ring it had.

 

[Morgan Gannik]

"Morgan Gannik," the hunter replied as Skolas, and he began to stalk off away from the Chem House. It was best for them to get moving quickly, other members of the establishment sponsoring gang would be along soon to check out the commotion, and Morgan was in no mood for a more protracted firefight.

As they rounded the corner and headed back onto the main street, through the bazaar he had visited on his arrival, Morgan answered the man's question. "Kera Cheninin. Female Rodian wanted for a bail jumping by the Ruusan Government," he confirmed. "I don't expect her to be a threat, but it pays to be cautious. My intel suggests she's at the Ruusani Open, a swoop race today." Morgan continued, referencing the information their recent entanglement with the chem-dealer had produced.

 

[Skolas]

Rodians had a sour taste to their flesh. Skolas didn't know why but he wasn't a fan either way. But, if Morgan needed a Rodian dead, then he'd get just that with the help of the Yautkan. Swoop races were arguably just as dangerous as pod racing, depending on who hosted what. There was one such endeavor that Skolas had attended where the racers were aloud to modify their bikes to tear through everyone else's. It was exciting, but the Hunter decided that it was a little over the top for him.

"She's as good as dead." Skolas hissed. "Do you need her dead or maimed?" The fellow mercenary offered.