Get the Mandalorian

How could they not have any leads on him? He posed as maintenance staff, hid battle armour in a toolbox, not to mention the weapons he somehow got in undetected, and attempted an assassination in broad daylight, and there was not one shred of evidence to suggest who this man might be, or where he went? According to the staff, all recording devices in all the areas the assassin must have travelled through to get to the room failed for a very brief period of time. Brief enough that the issue was ignored, initially; long enough that the assassin was gone when the cameras corrected themselves. And since the assassination attempt, the Mandalorian had vanished.

The Mandalorians were a warrior race. War was their culture. It was not war born of malice, but war for the sake of the fight. The honour was in the conflict itself. To a Mandalorian, all the world was a stage for one great conflict. Through conflict, the strong rose above the weak. Through conflict, there was growth. What better way to test oneself than through battle, and what better way to prove oneself than through conquest? It must come as no surprise then, to anyone who knows the culture of the Mandalorians, familiar with the way war runs in their blood, that they were drawn to life as mercenaries. Take any job in the galaxy which trades credits for blood, and you will find a Mandalorian who has made a name for himself in that profession.

It was their hope that they could use the natural talent for bloodshed of a Mandalorian to their advantage. A Mandalorian assassin must have earned a reputation. All that was needed was to look in the right place. Which meant seeking out the worst people on the planet.

They took the hovertrain to Blue Sector that night. If Coronet City were truly the Jewel of Corellia, as it liked to be known, the Jewel had an ugly crack in it named Blue Sector. This was the promised land where all the aspiring scammers, thieves, lowlife degenerates and thugs could prosper. There was no other place in Coronet, there was no other place on Corellia, where you would find people ready to sell you anything you could dream of for the right price. Drugs that make you feel like you've got sunshine in your head and lightning in your bones. A painful death for your ex husband or wife - buy from the right guys and it'll be just like a suicide. No other place in Corellia where from any apartment, any at all, that you choose for your stay, you would never find fewer than ten brothels within a convenient walking distance, all of them with minds just as open as their legs, where any pleasure at all is on sale. No other place in Corellia where you would find a junkyard that didn't care whether your kind of waste was living or not. Don't like the suicide option? Make them disappear completely.

So of course, they didn't go in Jedi robes. They got changed out of those before they left, so that when they arrived in Blue Sector, they were dressed just like any other off-worlder there. Now, Xin, who had in fact been to Blue Sector many times before, was at times apparently oblivious to the fact that the place was a run-down hole which Coronet had filled with the refuse of society. The only thing he could ever say when asked about it was it was a perfectly nice place with very friendly people. Kasra, on the other hand, had never been to Blue Sector before, and was experiencing for the first time exactly how friendly everyone was. Two Twi'lek girls, one blue and one pink, waved to him as they leaned against a wall, wearing clothes so tight and so exposing that despite the fact his eyes immediately jolted up after thoughtlessly running down over their bodies, the image of their smooth stomachs and the curves of their thighs and the swell of their breasts was permanently branded into his mind's eye.

They walked down the street until they found the cantina Xin had in mind. The cantina was lit with a dim red light. As they went in, a boy at the door held out his hand and asked Xin, "Hey, wanna buy some - "

"No." And the two Jedi went on in.

You'll never hear so many languages as you will when you come down to the cantina. There you'll find Rodians, you'll find Nikto, you'll find Selkath and Mon Calamari in a conversation over their drinks; leaning at the bar there is a Twi'lek, and lord of that dark corner over there is a Hutt. When he laid his eyes on that Hutt, Xin turned to Kasra. "I'll deal with this one myself," he said. "He's a lot easier to talk to once you already know him."

"What should I do in the meantime?" Kasra asked him.

"Just enjoy yourself for a while. Have a drink." And with that, Xin walked off towards the Hutt.

Kasra went to the bar, and took a seat next to the Twi'lek, this one with red skin. It was honestly the nearest seat. He only had a glimpse of who was at the bar before he got there, anyway. He ordered a drink, though not really caring what it was he was ordering. It was delivered in only a moment, and he sipped at it while glancing over at the spot where Master Zovo was engaged with the Hutt. It was really just him supervising what was going on over there. Never mind that his line of sight grazed the Twi'lek's face. Oh, why were they all so beautiful? Just ignore how soft her cheek looks. Try to avoid tracing the arch of her nose, down the groove of her philtrum, over her lips. Yes, avoid doing exactly what you're doing now, excellent demonstration. Was she Force-sensitive, or was the motion of his eyes just that obvious to her? She turned her head to look right at him, with an expression that had the Twi'leks any hair, would've involved a raised eyebrow. But she also had a small smile on her lips. "Hi," she said.

"Hi."

"Hi," said the returning Xin. Had he been staring so long? "That went well." He looked as if he was going to continue, but refrained from it, glancing from Kasra back to the Twi'lek, who upon catching his glance, looked back to Kasra before walking away. "Who's she?"

"Oh," said a flustered Kasra, "I dunno. Just being friendly."

"Right. So, the Hutt's told Ang that we're on our way to see him. Which means he and his crew won't shoot us on sight. I've got directions -"

"Sorry, Ang?"

Karo Ang was the lord of all things illegal in Corellia. And in particular, if there was a crime in Coronet, you could bet Ang knew about it. He was a tall, green-skinned Twi'lek with a reputation for ruthlessness. The directions that the Hutt gave the two Jedi led them to another cantina, which appeared modest at first glance, but upon closer inspection was a little more than a regular old cantina. The first thing that gave that away was the two men at the door, who were much more heavily armed than anyone had a right to be, even in a crime-ridden area like Blue Sector. They stopped the two Jedi at the door, and made a point of doing so in such a way that they took every opportunity to flash their very high-grade blasters to them. Eventually they were allowed in, and were immediately consumed by the pulsations of the bone-buzzing music played in the cantina, which was far larger and more ambitious in its business than your standard cantina. This cantina had two floors, the first floor looking down upon the ground. On the ground floor, there was a large bar in the centre of the room, which was currently very busy serving drinks. Around the walls were many places to sit, and possibly eat, though only very few people were doing that on the ground floor, most engaged in conversations which had to be conducted by shouting over the music. Scattered around the bar were a few stages, upon which were dancing girls, surrounded by enamoured men.

On the second floor were people who looked like they were higher up the food chain than the people on the ground floor. On the second floor were people who were unmistakably wanted criminals, and who were immediately hostile to any outsider drawing near. As the Jedi passed them by, they were followed by unblinking stares. At last they reached a door on the second floor. Near the door were another two guards, but this time they were nodded through without being stopped or checked.

Behind the door was a room where the thumping music of the cantina was muffled, though they could still feel the vibrations beneath their feet if they tried, and the throbbing rhythm which pulsed through the walls was like the sound of a beating heart. In this chamber was Ang. He was accompanied by two Aqualish, two Klatooinians, a few Rodians, humans, and a Dug. Ang was lounging in the centre of the room, sitting as if on a throne.

"Make it snappy boys," he called out with a rolling flourish of his wrist. "What can I do for you?"

The two Jedi made their way to the room's centre, facing Ang. "We're looking for a Mandalorian," said Xin. "An assassin, who we've had a run-in with. We need to know anything you can tell us about him."

Ang said nothing, and stared at the Jedi. "The Mandalorian," he said, nodding his head.

"So you do know him," said Kasra.

"Of course I know him," scoffed Ang, as if it were the dumbest question you could've asked him. "You ever hear of a Mandalorian who wasn't good at killing people? Of course I know him." He reached over for a drink, and sat there drinking, while peering at them from over the rim.

"Great," said Xin after a moment of silence between them. "Do you know where we can find him?"

"Might do. Hard to say."

You see, a man like Karo Ang will never give anybody anything for free. All the better that these two mentioned that he was trying to kill them. The way he saw it, all that meant was that these two idiots had just announced that they were in no position to refuse him. And at that, there was a reaction somewhere in the most ancient folds of his brain, which turned his gaze into an expression of unintelligent malevolence, like the primitive response of a carnivore which catches the scent of blood from an open wound.

"Credits, then," said Xin, casting a cautious glance to the rest of the room.

"Credits," repeated Ang. "Fifteen thousand's my price."

"Fifteen thousand? You're out of your mind!" Kasra told him.

Ang leaned towards them, with a vicious expression on his face, capped with a predatory smile. "I don't think you two are in a position to negotiate right now, are you? If you don't like my price, why don't you go on back home and see how long it takes for him to find you again? Fifteen thousand, and I'll tell you where you can find him."

"Fifteen thousand, and all you do is give us a location, with no guarantee he'll even be there?"

"Think of it like this. Ten thousand for me to even think of selling out you two nobodies to one of the best hired hands in the Core Worlds. Two thousand for me to not have you boys shot where you stand when I realise I heard you right, and three thousand for me to give you his details."

"And if we don't have that many credits on us?"

The room froze for a moment. Ang laughed. He shook his head with a malicious smile crawling across his face. "No," he said. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a blaster pistol, which he set on his knee, levelling the barrel at Xin. "No, you see, you don't understand. Nobody hires the Mandalorian without putting a premium bounty on someone's head. Which means that the moment you walked through that door there, you two had a huge price tag on you paid to whoever brings you in." The two Jedi felt all the focus of the room's stare as he spoke. "If you can't pay us, the Mandalorian's bounty will do just fine."

They froze, the gaze of those three men fixed on each other. Nobody moved.

"Get the speeder ready," he said to the Dug. "You two boys are about to get your wish."

Xin and Kasra walked with two blasters each aimed at their backs. Ang strode ahead of them with two of his henchmen at his side. They walked into a run-down apartment building, where the sight of blasters pointed at the two Jedi made them invisible to all the world. When Ang locked eyes with any of the staff they deferentially looked to the ground; when the cleaning droids saw him coming they turned around and went the other way and anyone else moved out of the way with the fear of death in them. They went to the elevators, where the Jedi were ushered in separately. They rose up until they reached the seventy-third floor. Ang marched down the corridor until he reached the room at the very end on the left. The Jedi were held back while he pressed a button and spoke into it. Then the door slid open, and Ang went on through.

Xin was familiar with the type of people they were likely to meet in their pursuit, and that kind of person often demands to search any stranger they meet at some point, since by the nature of their lives bloodshed is always around the corner. Earlier that evening, he had the foresight to take two simple blaster pistols, and, passing one to Kasra, the two of them had hidden away something to be found if they were searched at some point. With any luck and a touch of the Force, that would satisfy them, and they would not think to search for such an exotic and small thing as a lightsaber. And in this case it had done exactly that.

Now the Jedi came alive. From the sleeves of their clothes their lightsabers jumped into the palms of their hands, and a green and a violet blade swung around to cut the guns out of the hands of their captors. At the sound of a fight erupting in the corridor, Ang and his two henchmen came back around and upon seeing the glow of two lightsabers they took out their blasters and fired at them. Each of the blaster bolts was deflected with ease, and the last thing upon the faces of the Rodians and the Aqualish thugs they cut down was sheer terror of the unstoppable forces moving towards them to strike them down.

Ang turned to run into the room, firing behind him as he went. The Jedi followed him in. He was alone in the middle of the room, looking around with a desperate expression on his face. As the hum of the lightsabers moved towards him, his eyes grew wider like the shape of his horrified mouth, and he dropped his blaster, overcome by fear, and he raised his shaking palms above his head.

Enter the Mandalorian.

They sensed his presence just before it was too late. The fight had distracted them enough that he went unnoticed until that point. From an adjacent room, he emerged, with no armour on him but his helmet. His figure was heavily muscled, the paragon of warrior physicality, evinced in true Mandalorian fashion by the behemoth of a repeating blaster he wielded in his arms.

The eyes of the Jedi went wide and they leapt for cover just before he fired. The rapid burst of the gun shredded the Twi'lek's flesh. Kasra, who was furthest away from the crime lord, and who was the younger and more agile of the two Jedi, had leapt out of the way and safely got to the doorway where he had cover from the Mandalorian's assault. But Xin was right next to Ang, and he despite being a Jedi Master, it had been a long time since he had the agility of his former Padawan, and though he too leapt out of the way before the Mandalorian fired on them, it was not enough, and the blaster tore through the flesh of his calf, and he collapsed in agony on the floor.

Kasra witnessed Master Zovo fall down with blood spattered around him, and watched as the Mandalorian pulled his gun around for the kill. He raised his hand before the blaster could be fired, and with the Force he pushed the Mandalorian off his feet, throwing him against the wall of the next room.

He followed him through, lightsaber at the ready. The Mandalorian was already back up, and in his hands was his sword. Their blades met each other, this time the Mandalorian gaining the advantage with his sheer strength, which overcame Kasra just enough that the Mandalorian had an opening to lash out with the back of his fist and struck him across the face. Kasra fell to the ground, landing on his back, raising his lightsaber to parry the downward strike and counter with a kick that jolted the assassin back. It brought him enough time to get to his feet before the next strike came at him again, which he again blocked, but was jarred by the power of his opponent.

They fought like brutes, smashing their blades against each other with animalistic force, at each opportunity striking with fist and elbow at the other, hacking at their stance with a sweep of the leg, until finally the skill of the Mandalorian, as great as it was, began to wear against the superior skill of the Jedi in the art of the lightsaber, and with a deft manouevre the blade fell from the assassin's hands onto the floor and the tip of the lightsaber was pointed at his chest.

"Who sent you?" demanded Kasra.

The only sound in the air was the faint panting of the assassin in his helmet and the hum of the lightsaber. And then, slowly, as if disbelief had slowed time's flow to a trickle, Kasra watched as the Mandalorian reached for his belt and drew a dagger. "No!" he said. "It's over. You've -"

But he was silenced by the Mandalorian walking forward, dagger extended in his fist, even as he impaled his own chest on the lightsaber, which cut through his flesh and bone until the tip extended out from his back, and even then the Mandalorian walked forward, until he was halfway along the blade, and made a staggering lunge for Kasra's arm with the blade. The force of his lunge tore the blade of the lightsaber right through him, and as Kasra pulled his arm away the blade slashed right through his ribs.

He collapsed on the floor.

He was dead.