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Somewhere between Yavin and Vinsoth is a planet many consider the armpit of the galaxy. Monlys Cob had never really cared. He wasn’t a big fan of the planet, but not due to the corruption or high crime rate. To the contrary, these things made it easier to work. The reason he didn’t like it was that all the doors seemed to only be made for the puny frame of humans. While it was like this most places the Chevin went, he found the act of squeezing through openings that were too small counterproductive for a Bounty Hunter’s image. To make up for it, Monlys had to be extra brutal.
The mangled form of the Duros fell in a heap at the feet of the client. Almost all of his extremities were broken, he had a large gash on the top of his bald head, and his green skin was covered in bruises of varying severity. The inhabitants of the meeting room cringed at the sound of bones grinding as the flesh hit the ground.
“Kriffing Hell, what did you do to him?” Charlie Hall, the client, said.
Monlys’s snout twitched in annoyance. “I caught him. The payment will be made to my account by the end of the hour,” came his reply.
“I told you to bring him back alive. I am not paying you for this corpse.” Hall threatened.
The target wasn’t dead; Monlys had made sure of it. He asserted, “He’s alive. And I WILL be receiving full payment.” The contract had specified ‘alive’, but it didn’t say anything about the state of repair.
“If you think I am going to pay full price for this, you’ve got another thing coming! At most you will get a third. We won’t be doing business again.” The foolish human motioned for his guards to help Monlys leave. Clearly this boss was new to the gig. He hadn’t yet learned not to cross a Merc, let alone one that stood twice his height.
Monlys stood where he was, noting the positioning and armament of the guards in the room; they were clearly hesitant at his bulk and the evidence of destructive power embodied by the mangled Duros. Monlys eyes flashed with anger under his faceguard. “You are right about one thing.” He growled. “There won’t be a second contract.”
The Chevin dove into action, sprinting forward toward the human boss and backhanding a guard that was in his way. The target was thrown off his feet and into the guard adjacent to him by the force of the blow. Both slammed into the wall several yards away. Shots fired at him from behind, but the slugs bounced harmlessly off the armor hidden under his large robe. Monlys turned and extended his heavily modified heavy blaster pistol, firing at the remaining guards quickly. Each pull of the trigger let off a powerful blast that left a hole the size of a grapefruit in its mark. Within seconds the room was cleared except for Monlys and the brunt of his anger. He rounded on the poor fool, who had been firing at Monlys as well. The slugs barely scratched his armor as the Chevin slowly walked towards him. “Now, Mister Hall, why don’t we discuss the small matter of my payment?”
Charlie dropped his slug-thrower in fear and turned to run towards the door. A single blaster shot sounded and a bolt severed his leg at the knee. Charlie fell forward, hitting his face on the floor. Turning around, he looked up at Monlys through tears of fear and pain. “Please! I’m sorry! You can have anything you want. Take it all. Just don’t kill me!”
Pathetic.
Monlys left the establishment a fair bit richer, but also angry and tired. He fell into the foot traffic of the ecumenopolis, losing himself in an inner monologue as speeders flew by and strangers surrounded him.
A small beeping noise drew him from his thoughts. He pulled a large data pad from his pack and read the new message.
It seemed as though he was being hired already. Not even an hour of rest and he had more work. At least the meeting place was at the Drunken Wookiee, a good bar not far from here; he could use a stiff drink. The Chevin Merc put away his datapad and began walking to his Modified speeder, wondering what it would be this time.
* * *
The mangled form of the Duros fell in a heap at the feet of the client. Almost all of his extremities were broken, he had a large gash on the top of his bald head, and his green skin was covered in bruises of varying severity. The inhabitants of the meeting room cringed at the sound of bones grinding as the flesh hit the ground.
“Kriffing Hell, what did you do to him?” Charlie Hall, the client, said.
Monlys’s snout twitched in annoyance. “I caught him. The payment will be made to my account by the end of the hour,” came his reply.
“I told you to bring him back alive. I am not paying you for this corpse.” Hall threatened.
The target wasn’t dead; Monlys had made sure of it. He asserted, “He’s alive. And I WILL be receiving full payment.” The contract had specified ‘alive’, but it didn’t say anything about the state of repair.
“If you think I am going to pay full price for this, you’ve got another thing coming! At most you will get a third. We won’t be doing business again.” The foolish human motioned for his guards to help Monlys leave. Clearly this boss was new to the gig. He hadn’t yet learned not to cross a Merc, let alone one that stood twice his height.
Monlys stood where he was, noting the positioning and armament of the guards in the room; they were clearly hesitant at his bulk and the evidence of destructive power embodied by the mangled Duros. Monlys eyes flashed with anger under his faceguard. “You are right about one thing.” He growled. “There won’t be a second contract.”
The Chevin dove into action, sprinting forward toward the human boss and backhanding a guard that was in his way. The target was thrown off his feet and into the guard adjacent to him by the force of the blow. Both slammed into the wall several yards away. Shots fired at him from behind, but the slugs bounced harmlessly off the armor hidden under his large robe. Monlys turned and extended his heavily modified heavy blaster pistol, firing at the remaining guards quickly. Each pull of the trigger let off a powerful blast that left a hole the size of a grapefruit in its mark. Within seconds the room was cleared except for Monlys and the brunt of his anger. He rounded on the poor fool, who had been firing at Monlys as well. The slugs barely scratched his armor as the Chevin slowly walked towards him. “Now, Mister Hall, why don’t we discuss the small matter of my payment?”
Charlie dropped his slug-thrower in fear and turned to run towards the door. A single blaster shot sounded and a bolt severed his leg at the knee. Charlie fell forward, hitting his face on the floor. Turning around, he looked up at Monlys through tears of fear and pain. “Please! I’m sorry! You can have anything you want. Take it all. Just don’t kill me!”
Pathetic.
* * *
Monlys left the establishment a fair bit richer, but also angry and tired. He fell into the foot traffic of the ecumenopolis, losing himself in an inner monologue as speeders flew by and strangers surrounded him.
A small beeping noise drew him from his thoughts. He pulled a large data pad from his pack and read the new message.
It seemed as though he was being hired already. Not even an hour of rest and he had more work. At least the meeting place was at the Drunken Wookiee, a good bar not far from here; he could use a stiff drink. The Chevin Merc put away his datapad and began walking to his Modified speeder, wondering what it would be this time.
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