The fall of the Empire was a miracle for all throughout the galaxy who suffered under the iron fist which the Emperor held over them. The uproar and cheers could be heard across the galaxy. As the former governing forces were driven into exile by the Rebel Alliance, now the New Republic Defense Force, it seemed certain the galaxy would truly know peace again. However, this was a short, cheerful illusion, and in the vacuum left by the fallen Empire, the New Republic was not the only one to fill the void. It was easy for the new government to acquire control and assert authority over the Core Systems and those surrounding, but the Outer Rim…just as bandits and warlords were prolific even during the age of the Empire, it would be there where the remnants escape to.
A Kom'rk-Mk1 starfighter came out of hyperspace, its crimson wings gleaming in the distant star of the Pantora System, bearing for the nearby moon. It was not common to see such a vessel flying so far away from Mandalorian space; but where there was one, so too was it piloted by one.
As the light broke over the edge of the wings, the scorched red paint of the Mandalorian's helmet gleamed like a solar fire, and went dull where layers of thick soot stuck like its own kind of paint. Flexing his hands over the controls, he anticipated the local patrols to notice him and do their usual pre-landing check. There was no doubt the color of his ship would spark some alarm, but he was certain everything else would be enough to let him through.
Then a shadow passed over, prompting him to look around and find the patrol he had been expecting, and in came the officers hailing him over comms:
"Starblazer…" said the one officer, noting the title of the ship. "Where do you hail from?"
"What's it matter to you?" he answered. Onto the suspicion and inquisition.
"A Kom'rk-class star fighter with red markings, one might say you could be what remains of the Crimson Dawn," answered the other officer.
"Do I look like a Crimson Dawn fighter to either of you?" he asked them, keeping his tone in check.
After a short period of deliberation, the first officer came on and said, "It doesn't matter what we think, but seeing as you are the only one appearing on life scans and you are not preparing for attack, you need only tell us where you came from and we'll go on from there."
"Tatooine," he answered firmly. "You can run the trajectory of my jump from hyperspace."
"Already done," said the second officer. "Departure checks out."
"Moving on then," said the first officer. "Please turn on your transponder and prepare to send your clearance code."
The Mandalorian said nothing. It didn't matter whether it was the Empire or the New Republic, it was the same beast in a new shell—the new government just adopted the old ones toys and tricks. It really was just annoying protocol. He flipped the switch and turned on his transponder like he'd been asked to. Then he waited for the next set of instructions.
"Interesting…you're flying a pre-Imperial ship, but registered with the New Republic," said the first officer. "How unusual for someone like you."
"Is there a problem?" he asked, his tone coming off slightly annoyed.
"No! No…everything checks out. Just send your code and we'll let you be on your way."
Once again, the Mandalorian said nothing, he sent his code to the officers and waited for their answer.
"All is green," said the first officer. "Maintain your present course and head for Dock 277. Welcome to Pantora."
The Mandalorian waited for the two officers to break away, then he pushed the throttle to move just a little faster. It was not his first idea to register with the New Republic, especially so soon after the Empire fell, but it did have its advantages when wanting to avoid trouble with authorities was concerned. Though it seemed stigma was something he could not escape; then again, he wore it on his person.
It was snowfall on Pantora, and though there were thick layers of frost upon the surface and atop the buildings, there were no blizzards to speak of, thankfully. This made landing fairly easy, and the Mandalorian maneuvered his ship like a feather in the wind during touchdown, landing smoothly despite how rapid his initial approach was.
A pair of soot blackened Beskar boots hit the snow covered tarmac. They left behind a trail of ash with each step.
Dock technicians and mechanics looked at the strange man who had arrived, remarking at his red armor and the arsenal he carried with him. They knew well who they were looking at, the stories surrounding people like him, and that wherever he went, trouble was sure to follow. He was an imposing figure for certain, tall and daunting to look at, his stiff walk making him appear as though a machine, but that didn't stop the dock master from approaching him.
"Pay now, or later?" asked the dock master. The Mandalorian tossed him a small pouch of credits, walking past him without a word. "Erm, right. Welcome to Pantora!"
The Mandalorian knew where he was headed. There was a tavern he had been told to go, which was not too far from the dock. Many who walked past turned their eyes to him, amazed to see such a sight as him, commenting on his jetpack, and the menacing looking set of nozzles upon his wrists which were scorched black like parts of his armor. Whispers questioned the story behind all the soot that coated him, what battles he had been through, the man under the helmet. He paid no mind to any of them, never turning to face and acknowledging they had been heard, walking on until he was where he needed to be. He took a right when he saw the sign he'd been looking for.
The tavern was bustling with business that day, filled with travelers and residents of Pantora. Many of the tables inside were taken by small groups who conversed with one another over food and drink, others gambled on the games displayed on a nearby wall, and a couple groups in the shady corners talking certain jobs, all accompanied by the cheerful tune of music played by a small band on stage at the far corner of the room. The bartenders were busy that day, and it was certain not to stop any time soon.
—Except when all the patrons caught sight of the tavern's latest visitor. All went silent, and all eyes turned as the Mandalorian pushed past the doors.
The Mandalorian stopped at the doorway, looking around at all the eyes on him, gauging any who might present a threat to him. There were those who shrugged and turned back around to mind their business, and others who kept their eye on him as he started walking again towards the bar.
One of the bartenders, an imposing Besalisk, slung a towelette over his shoulder and greeted the Mandalorian with little more than eye contact, he too gauging this new and strange visitor and guessing his intentions. There were many he had seen who could wear Mandalorian armor and pass themselves off as one, but he knew better, and in his experience, it was typically in the way they walked. This one seemed to carry himself like he had worn that armor all his life, and there was no mistaking the sound of Beskar steel plates clinking against each other. Knowing the stories, it would take an incredible amount of skill and luck for one to kill a Mandalorian, and this did not seem like such a pretender.
As the Mandalorian propped his hands over the counter, the bartender finally asked him, "And what will you be having?"
"I'm looking for someone," said the Mandalorian. "I was told I would find them here."
"Hmm…I know no one here who would be waiting for a Mandalorian," the bartender answered. "But we get new people in here all the time. Take a seat, have a drink, perhaps whoever you are looking for will arrive soon."
A long drawn sigh could be heard through the voice piece of his helmet. He stepped away and took the steps up to the next floor of the tavern, an ideal place for him to scope out the interior and catch first sight of whoever might enter after him. For several minutes he watched as people came in and went out the door, but none of them seemed to be who he was supposed to meet. For a moment, he felt his time was being wasted. That was until he felt a strange feeling come over him, an instinct deep down which caused him to turn slightly to his left, catching sight of a woman in the corner of his eye looking at him from a table at the far corner of the balcony.
The woman threw a cocksure grin, her gaze in some way unique compared to the others who stared dumbfoundedly at the Mandalorian. Her sharp face matched her stone blue eyes with a profound intensity, appearing as though a pair of comets followed by tails of white sand hair. She did not give him any invitation for him to join her, but she gave no protest either as he sat down in the seat directly across from her. With a tone as soft and crisp as the cold winds outside, she asked, "I take it you are looking for someone?"
"I'm not sure," answered the Mandalorian. Then he asked, "Did I find her?"
The woman's smile widened, nodding down by a hair's breadth. "I had no idea who would answer my call. To have a Mandalorian sitting before me…it almost seems like fate."
"Sounds like I have found you," said the Mandalorian, his voice carrying its own share of impressed intrigue. He had noted her manner of speech: it was distinctly concise and had a sharpness to the ends of her words, an accent he had been familiar with, from the Core worlds, he had a mind to believe she might have been an officer in a past life—but he had a sneaking notion that past was not quite so recent.
The woman nodded, straightening herself up in her chair as she reached a hand out to greet him, although he did not return the favor. Regardless, she still introduced herself, "I am Kareena Muun. There is a direct commission which I-"
"I'm no bounty hunter," said the Mandalorian. "I'm doing this for myself."
"I figured as much. A common enemy. Seems a worthy enough cause," said Kareena, astutely.
"That depends," answered the Mandalorian. "How common?"
Kareena looked past his shoulder briefly, then to the nearby tables to ensure no one was watching. Then, from beneath the table, she produced an Imperial badge. This drew a startled jolt in the Mandalorians arm, the nozzles on his wrist igniting bright blue flames, which she was not the least bit afraid of.
The Mandalorian could be heard venting under his helmet, coupled with the rapid rise and fall of his chest piece as he leaned forward. Almost in a growl, he asked, "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't torch you alive right here, right now."
"A very impressive device…" she commented, refusing to answer his question, instead looking at his flamethrowers. There were two sets of three nozzles on each gauntlet, all of which were fused to the Beskar plating with some considerable effort. She knew Beskar was just about the hardest material to work with if one didn't have the right tools or means, and the haphazard welds made it evident this was so for him, and yet he managed to make the weapons work. Amused by the handiwork, she simply felt compelled to ask him, "Did you build these yourself?"
"Answer the question…" said the Mandalorian, more firmly. "You tell me we have a common enemy, and then you present an Imperial badge. As far as I'm concerned, only one of us has an enemy, and it's not you."
Kareena finally sighed, meeting his eye again as she told him, "I fell out of favor with the Empire long before it fell. If you are worried about being caught in a trap, you have nothing to fear."
"Is that what I'm to believe?" He curled his fist, and like daggers the flames grew longer, now white hot at the tips.
Kareena kept her calm, still mesmerized by the small jets aimed at her, her grin never ceasing for a moment. Matching her confident sneer, her answer was equally crisp: "Even if it were a trap, and such things have happened before, I doubt a squad of Stormtroopers could handle you. Mandalorians in a fist fight alone are a death sentence to even the most highly skilled combatants of any other kind. Even if your worst fears were to be realized, I'm certain you'd lay waste to them as fast as they came."
"I'm flattered." He flicked his hand open, shutting off the flames. Leaning back only slightly, keeping his gauntlets aimed at her for any moment's notice, he asked her, "So, the target, you said he was in the Purges, is this true?"
Kareena took her badge back under the table and produced a small datacache which displayed a hologram of the target. A man whose face was sharp as the finest blade, and piercing green eyes. However, upon his person, which the Mandalorian took special attention of, his body was clad not in the armor of the Imperial Super Commandos, but true Mandalorian armor, littered with Imperial markings.
"Commander Kreel…" he growled. He curled his fists, the sound of his fiber gloves crunching in his grip. The slightest twitching of his head was observed by Kareena as he looked at the image of Kreel with seemingly great intensity. "It truly is fate then…I've spent so many years scouring the galaxy for you…and now I have the chance to end you…" looking back up, he asked, "You know where he is?"
Kareena pressed a button on the datacache, swapping holograms to the projection of the Pantoran Star System. Pointing to the larger of two worlds, she told him, "It took me some time to figure out where he had been hiding all this time. He is based on Orto Plutonia, just a ship ride away from here." She cycled through another projection, displaying the Imperial base and its layout. "It would appear Kreel found himself a pocket of Rhydonium on the planet, near the Sha'akalla ridge. He's been using it to supply his ships, and probably selling it to make a war chest. My guess is he is working with other Moff's to secure a foothold in the Outer Rim."
"It'll all be up in flames soon…along with him," said the Mandalorian. "Anything else?"
"Everything is in the cache," Kareena answered, handing over the datacache and meeting his eye. "My advice for you is to be cautious. Kreel may not be a Moff but he is as resourceful as he is clever. He's maintained his presence on the planet without drawing attention; expect him to be ready for just about anything."
"I'd hope so." Just as he was about to stand up, she reached across the table and grabbed his arm, bringing her face inches from the faceplate of his helmet.
"I've always wondered who you people are under these masks," Kareena whispered, her voice a gentle hiss. From where she was now, she could smell the faint remnants of burnt accelerant and the sharp stench of ash and tar, things of which did not appear to be completely his own doing. "You seem to have a lot more invested in this than just fortune and glory."
The Mandalorian kept his gaze on hers for much longer than he had wanted to permit. He did not like the notion of novelty people seemed to regard him with, but at least he could find some amount of grace knowing she knew more than most. Still, he tore his arm away from hers, standing up finally. He told her, "More than you could ever know."
Starblazer cut between Pantora and Orto Plutonia just about as quickly as it had arrived in the system, but the entry into the larger planet's atmosphere was far less welcoming. Harsh blizzard winds snapped at the starship as it descended down, thick gusts of snow blocked all visibility. The Mandalorian had been forced to use his ship's navigation system to find a safe place to land where he could make the trek to Kreel's base. Thankfully, his ship's cloaking system combined with the snowstorm meant he could enter the planet virtually undetected if the Imperials were scanning for intruders.
After scouring the barren landscape for some time, he finally found a cave on his radar which was suitable for his ship. It was tricky making it fit, especially when the wings had to fold up to produce the landing gear, but eventually he had made a successful landing.
The Mandalorian went into the back of his ship and opened up a plethora of weapons cache's he kept in the cargo bay, assessing what he thought he may need while looking at the diagram of the Imperial base. There was no telling how old the diagram was and if the base had been changed in any way, but from the looks of it he wouldn't be needing any long range rifles. Rhydonium was highly volatile, even the slightest jerk would set off a small amount, so explosives had to be minimal—even his Beskar armor wouldn't protect him from such a blast. Additional information he obtained from Kareena included troop counts and types, military vehicles, additional contacts associated with Kreel, which about half of it was useful in ascertaining what he was going to be up against. He settled for a few Detonators, a shot-blaster, a vibro-blade machete, and he restocked his flamethrower and jetpack fuel. Once he was ready, he closed everything up and went to leave the cave.
One thing that could be said about Orto Plutonia: unforgiving was an understatement. Perhaps that was why Kreel chose to set up a base there in the frozen tundra. After an incident during the Clone Wars, no one would think to look for Imperials in a place they were bound to be chased out of. But the Imperials were neither Clones or Droids; any group of Talz would find fighting the Empire to be an incredible challenge. Perhaps Kreel even made that message clear himself.
The Mandalorian took a small speeder bike to make the trip to the base. Better to take full advantage of the snowstorm while he could, and it would cut his travel time immensely. According to his navigator, it would've been a good couple days of walking at least, but this way it was only a few hours journey to and from.
After hours of non-stop blizzard winds and snow, as the sun was going down, the Mandalorian arrived on the outskirts beyond the perimeter of the Imperial base. He found a place to hide his speeder and proceeded the remainder of his approach on foot, climbing a nearby hill to get a clear view as to what he was dealing with before going in.
He opened the datacache again, and found an insignia on Kreel's armor, an image of a golden bird. There were identical marks on the ships and vehicles. No doubt now that this was the place. "Count your seconds, Kreel, your time is about to be cut short."
He folded his targeting scope down and got a good look at the troops patrolling around. There were numerous Stormtroopers, as expected, as well as a handful of ranking officers and technicians performing maintenance on a small fleet of TIE fighters. No Rhydonium to be seen anywhere, it all could have been purified and loaded up inside the base, which allowed him to use his weapons freely. The TIE fighters would be excellent cover in a firefight, but he had something more fun in mind.
A button press, and a secondary HUD appeared. On his gauntlet, he pressed a button multiple times, placing targets on the perimeter of the walls, on the base itself, and one in the center of the TIE fighter group. Atop his jetpack, a grid of honeycomb-shaped panels ticked up, and blue lights flickered on along the edges signaling they were primed and ready to fire. Then, once all targets were confirmed, he pressed the big red button on his gauntlet.
TUT-TUT-TUT-TUT-TUT-TUT-TUT-TUT-TUT-TUT! A volley of rockets spewed from his pack, flying high into the air before raining down on their targets. One after the other in rapid succession, they exploded into balls of flames, spreading like liquid and drenching the entire area in flames. The screams of Imperial troops and officers filled the air. The few officers who walked out from the epicenters of the blasts were flailing around covered in flames, only to fall to their knees and to the ground shortly after. The Stormtroopers were not much better, managing to barely escape being burned alive themselves with their armor, but they tore it off before it melted onto their bodysuits, which too had been scorched beyond function. By that point, the facility's alarms kicked on, red lights coming on and circling around on the walls, now everyone was on high alert.
"Showtime." The Mandalorian stood, activating his jetpack and taking to the sky with his blaster ready. He descended near the burning heap of destroyed TIE fighters, taking aim and shooting scattered bolts at the remaining Stormtroopers. A couple survivors attempted to blindside him from the wreckage, but they were met with a vicious swing at their necks with a vibro-blade machete, kicking their bodies away as their heads fell to the ground.
Another pocket of troops opened fire on him from the main tower of the base, but their blaster fire did nothing but plink off his armor; the Mandalorian returned fire with another missile from his jetpack, landed a direct hit and cremated the troops in a ball of fire. He pressed onward towards the base, just as the main doors opened to release another round of troops, who spread out with guns trained on him.
"Fire! Fire! Fire!" Yelled the officer taking the lead, pointing his blaster at him and firing.
All troops opened fire, sending wave after wave of ion bolts at the Mandalorian from all directions. But nearly every shot had been deflected off the Beskar armor they were shooting at. Still, they kept firing.
The Mandalorian took cover behind the wreckage of a demolished TIE fighter, waiting for the barrage of blaster fire to lighten up. He flipped his visor down and pressed a button on his gauntlet, and on his HUD came a thermal scan of the troopers behind him. There had to be twenty or thirty by his best guess, spread out too far for a detonator charge, and his jetpack needed time to fabricate another salvo. He could just run in with his machete and see how many he could take down, but there was a better chance of them overwhelming him with sheer numbers alone. They were already walking up closer to him, spreading around while the fires he started began to die out, converging until he had nowhere to run.
"Come out with your hands raised!" called one of the troopers.
The Mandalorian put his visor away, bowed his head and listened to their footsteps. He tried to picture where each pair of boots was. They were mostly scattered around with no particular path or pattern, but some were bolder than others, stepping closer than the rest with a more eager pace. Weak links that had not been tempered. He brought his machete to bear, turned his head to the nearest set of footsteps coming his way, just around the corner from where he took cover.
"Got y-" the unlucky trooper was overcome as the Mandalorian hooked his blade behind his neck and rolled over his back. As the trooper collapsed dead, the Mandalorian kept rolling towards the next two troopers, slicing one's leg, sweeping the blade up and striking the other in the side, and again aiming for the first trooper's head, and back again at the other trooper's helmet. He shoved past them and both tumbled to the ground.
The other troops opened fire again, but the Mandalorian lunged forward and attacked another squad of troops, taking three of them out in rapid succession! They struggled to land any shots on him, some almost about to run before he finally got to them too. The lucky ones that did land still hit his Beskar armor, which only drew his attention toward them, charging at them and taking them out as fast as the others. In just a matter of seconds, nearly half of the force was taken out of the fight.
"Ragh!" The Mandalorian threw his latest kill at another squad of troops, knocking them down and shooting them dead with his blaster. One trooper had been lucky enough to avoid being knocked down, still trying to shoot at him, but he was taken down too with a quick chop at his neck, falling to the ground like the rest.
Now only ten remained, their hands trembling as the Mandalorian turned his focus on them next. They looked to their commanding officer for guidance, but they saw he too had been shaking in fear, his eyes wide looking at the field of bodies left in their attackers' wake.
The Mandalorian's breath hissed behind his helmet, not unlike a hungry Gundark about to take its prey. He stared down the remaining guards, brandishing his machete while walking slowly towards them. A soft chuckle escaped him as he watched the terrified troopers back away, looking to one another, quiet whisperings asking what they could do filling the air. But then he heard one mention Kreel.
"I'm looking for your boss," he told them in a low growl. "Bring him to me, and I'll consider sparing your lives."
The troops looked again at one another, then to the officer, but not one of them said a word.
"That's too bad…" The Mandalorian took aim with his blaster, ready for another go. "Seem's I'll just have to do this the har-" CLNNNG! A blaster bolt struck his helmet and knocked him to the ground.
To the dismay of those troops on the ground, he remained unharmed. He sat up, and his helmet bore a new black scorch mark at his temple. He looked frantically for where the stray shot came from. Then, he heard the unmistakable sound of jet thrusters, and down came a battalion of new troopers to join the fight, but these weren't any normal Stormtroopers, these ones wore armor that mimicked the armor of the Mandalorians, his people's handiwork twisted by the Empire.
Imperial Super Commandos.
The Mandalorian was shocked to even see Super Commandos were still around, but he knew they were traitors and they'd be defeated as such. Their armor was Beskar like his, but that didn't mean much when he knew just where to strike. He put his blaster away and got his machete ready, waiting for whichever one would make the first move.
The Super Commandos spread out, encircling him like the many troops did before, intent on containing him. The surrounding troops and officers watched from afar, backing well away. Drawing in, the Super Commandos carefully shifted their feet, inching bit by bit as the Mandalorian looked between each of them, taking every chance they got to move closer.
But the Mandalorian had no intention of being cornered like a womprat. He had to keep them all in front of him, then he'd start cutting them down one by one. His jetpack whirled to life and took him into the air, bearing for the TIE fighter wreckage.
"Stop him!" The Super Commandos raised their arms, and out from their gauntlets shot lines of grappling hooks, all wrapping around their target.
"Ragh!" The Mandalorian kicked his legs around to remove the cables, but it was no use. He tried increasing the thrust in his jetpack, but it strained while trying to overcome the immense weight of the four weighing him down. Little by little he was being brought down. Escape was futile. His next idea was risky, but he didn't come this far just to be stopped now. He switched his jet pack off and used the Super Commando's strength against them, landing a heavy kick to one's head, riding atop his helmet all the way to the ground. He rolled forward, punching the next in the stomach. He grabbed his machete and made a wild swing for the Super Commando on his right, but the blade struck his gauntlet and did nothing. Still, he had to be fast, and so he swung the opposite and hit the one in front of him, lodging the blade in his side; the Super Commando let out a painful growl, but he proved to be a lot tougher than the other troopers, grabbing the blade and yanking it away from the Mandalorian. No matter, the Mandalorian grabbed his blaster and started firing where he could, shooting at the Super Commando on his left, then the one on his right, and last the one in front, but none of the shots did a thing against their armor, little more than pushing them back, but the distance was just what he needed. Back on his feet, the Mandalorian lurched ahead and grabbed his machete from the injured Super Commando's side, striking down for his shoulder next, but the Super Commando blocked the blade and quickly disarmed him yet again, kicking him into another Super Commando who positioned himself behind, grabbing hold of the Mandalorian while the others went to restrain him. He tried to fight back, but again escape had been made futile. He felt his blaster be taken from him, his arms put behind him, his knees kicked out from under him.
And there he was, defeated, as quickly as when he arrived.
The injured Super Commando gripped his side, looking at his glove, dripping with blood. Labored breaths hummed from his mask, looking at the Mandalorian with unmistakable hatred behind that black visor. He walked up to the Mandalorian, who looked back up at him, the same unfettered growl hissing from his own mask. He gripped the Mandalorian's helmet with his bloodstained hand, pulling his head closer as he told him, "Lucky hit." Like a blaster bolt, he jammed his fist into the Madalorian's stomach, eliciting a pitiful yelp.
Then, walking through the line of troops, one more officer arrived, the sound of his boots clapping across the tarmac carried through the wind. The Mandalorian looked onward at the arriving man, who wore not Imperial Super Commando armor, but his own set of Mandalorian armor, coated in glossy white and red Imperial paint. The Mandalorian didn't need for him to remove his helmet, it was plain as day who it was underneath: Commander Kreel.
With a distinctly commanding, yet boisterous voice, like a pretentious politician, he told his troops, "Good work, men. Now, let us make sure our…guest is comfortable."
"We should end him now!" barked the Super Commando on their captives right shoulder.
Kreel raised a palm to him, answering back, "To be certain, let us inquire and see who we are dealing with: clearly an incredibly talented fighter, and that armor…immaculate, surely a true Mandalorian by Creed…" his attention turned to the Mandalorian, to whom he asked, "Is this so?"
The Mandalorian refused to answer, tugging against the grip of the Super Commandos over him.
Kreel took a moment to look him over, noting the unorthodox armament he carried, and he asked, "You like to keep things close, don't you?"
The Mandalorian sat up on his knee, looking up at Kreel as he told him, "True warriors don't hide behind a rifle."
"Hah!" Kreel tucked the butt of his rifle under his arm, lifting his helmet off his head for the Mandalorian to see. Everything about him was just as displayed prior, even his eyes pried like a pair of knives. His tone grew antagonistic now, like that of a Trandotian's hiss: "Spoken like a true believer. There aren't very many of you left."
"Too bad you couldn't get us all in the end," the Mandalorian snapped.
Kreel bore his teeth, a slight click leaving his lips followed by a quieted hiss. "Indeed, the legends were not embellished. As impressive as your little show here was, I am afraid you will have to be dealt with like all who came before. That armor will—as a droid general I read about was quoted saying—make a fine addition to my…collection…" he took a step forward, examining the Mandalorians scorched helmet, rubbed off the soot on the front, and revealed the crest of a golden bird. He laughed incredulously, displaying his utter amusement in taunting words spoken through a cocksure tongue: "You are from the Phoenix Valley on Concordia. Yes, I remember now. I went down and fought scores of your tribe in the Purges. Never in my life had I faced such worthy foes. But you…the way you cut through my men, this red armor, I remember you now. Not by name, but by your prowess. You and your squad ambushed my men from the sky. If it were not for our flamethrowers you'd have wiped us out."
The Mandalorian nodded his head slowly. "Oh I remember. You left your mark on us, left us to die, but I remain. And I will avenge my brothers and sisters. You will know the pain I felt, and who left it on you."
"And who would that be?" Kreel asked, throwing an incredulous sneer.
The Mandalorian looked up, locking his statue-like gaze, curling his fists as he straightened up as much as he could. The quiet sound of pressure hissed down his arms. His voice a low whisper, like a crisp orange ember, he told him:
"The Concordian Wildfire."
With a hard flick of his wrists, a loud screech wailed through the air, along with wild waves of bright blue flames, spreading out in all directions, drenching the surrounding Super Commandos in their blazing heat. They screamed and yelled in pain and confusion, losing their grasp on the Mandalorian long enough for him to shoot into the air by jetpack.
Surprised, Kreel jumped back, and just barely escaped the flames himself. He threw his helmet on and looked around at his troopers, who ran in complete terror. He looked back again to his Super Commandos, who were rolling and writhing aflame, their body gloves burning to a crisp under their armor—but the Mandalorian was missing.
He looked up, and there he was, hovering in the air, his flame jets aimed directly at him, faced with jets of bright blue fire coming right at him.
In a panic, he reached for his controls and brought his own jetpack to life, sending him scraping across the ground until he slammed into the main door. He scrambled to escape, hit the access panel on the wall and opened the door, disappearing behind it in all the chaos.
But the Mandalorian watched his pathetic escape, and he was not about to let him get away. He knew the Super Commandos would be too busy quenching the flames, giving him free reign to fly up and across the base.
Now several meters high, he spotted a train depot on the other side of the facility, and Kreel was flying across the tarmac to catch the next departure. No time to wait. If there was any chance of taking down Kreel, it had to be now. He lurched down for the departing train, ignoring all the troops below firing upon him, weaving in and out between refinery fixtures and jettisoning TIE fighters, leaving all in the dust on his pursuit.
Kreel landed at the head of the train, brushing past the crew screaming, "Go! Go! Go! Go!"
The train crew did not ask any questions, spotting the encroaching Mandalorian and moving right away to get the train moving. Even as Kreel stationed himself at the main controls, they still did their part to finish the departure, skipping the launch sequence and getting the train moving immediately.
Once the engines hummed to life, Kreel opened up the throttle, and in a moment's notice the train took off like a rocket.
"Oh no you dont!" The Mandalorian thrust an arm forward, firing a grappling hook and latched onto the rearmost car. The line strung taught instantly, dragging him along like a kite in a ferocious wind. He struggled to pull himself down, the winding motor in his real squealing as it strained to bring him down. It was a slow grind, but eventually he landed boots on the roof of the train. He turned on his magno-grips, ensuring he'd stay attached to the train while he made his way to the front.
"Sir! Intruder detected at the rear and moving up!"
Kreel growled, snatching a blaster from a nearby trooper, shoving along some others on his way outside. The blistering cold winds crept into his helmet as he and the troops marched out onto the flatcars, which were loaded with Rhydonium. No warning was needed to tell the troops to check their fire. He signaled for them to fan out, taking the middle himself and walking on through the stacks of fuel canisters.
"Keep an eye out, boys, this one is a pure and true warrior," he told his men, keeping his blaster aimed up beyond the canisters.
They crossed to the next car, continuing their careful path down, stepping lightly in fear of disturbing the fuel in any way. On and on they went, but still no sign of the Mandalorian just yet. Some figured he was still crossing his way to them, which meant they'd likely come across him near the middle of the train. A couple pondered the idea of decoupling the cars and leaving the Mandalorian in the dust, knowing it was easier to run than to fight.
But Kreel wouldn't have it, snapping back at them: "Shut it! He's not going to risk destroying the Rhydonium. He won't be using any of his special tricks here. We face him head on!"
There were three cars to cross down until they reached the enclosed ones. The flatcars were supposed to be covered before departure, necessary to protect the Rhydonium, but the train left too soon for the covers to be put on. Moff Kreel had a couple troopers go inside, while he and the other two climbed up onto the roof.
"Mag-boots on!" At his command, Kreel and his troops turned on their Magna-grips and continued walking down the cars.
The train entered into a blizzard storm, enshrouding the troops' vision in a blinding white curtain of snow. The winds picked up too, violently blowing and shaking the train cars. Kreel and his troops braced as they stepped.
Kreel brought down his helmet's scope and switched to thermal imaging. He thought he had spotted the Mandalorian before the blizzard blew in, but now it was almost impossible to find him again. Even with his thermal scans, he was unable to spot where his target had gone.
The troops had their own thermal scanners on too, each looking over the edge of the train car to see if the Mandalorian had been scaling the outerwall, but he wasn't there either. The only thing they could see was the blinding purple hue on their scopes, denoting sub-zero temperatures on all plains.
"Maybe he fell off?" one trooper asked the other.
"Nah," answered the other. "Like the commander said, he's here somewhere."
Kreel stayed silent, slowly circling around with his rifle pointed straight in front of him. He knew for certain his thermal scan was working right, he could see his troops clear as day in bright yellow and orange; at the very least he should have been able to see the Mandalorians flamethrowers giving off heat. But the visuals were dead as the cold winter winds. Letting out an aggravated growl, he got on coms: "Inside team, do you see him?" He heard static in response, and after a brief moment he asked again, "Troopers, report! Where is he?"
A loud crack came from behind him. He jolted behind to see what was going on, only to find that both his flanking troopers disappeared into the cold winds.
Angry, afraid, freezing, Kreel's breath started to steam out from beneath his helmet as he looked frantically for the Mandalorian, but his scans weren't showing anything, not a single sprite of heat to be picked up on his scope.
Clack-clack-clack…
"Agh!" he jolted back around, firing his blaster at the source of the sound behind him. He saw the heat signs from where his blaster hit, but he had to turn off his thermal to see it was the helmet of one of his troops. He grew more frantic now, forgetting to turn his thermal back on as he quickly turned back and forth, hysteria setting in as sharply as the bitter cold. His voice started to break as he called out, "Come on! Come out and fight if that's what you want!"
"This is how it feels," came the Mandalorians voice, hurdling through the wind and snow. "Being alone, afraid, that blistering chill running through your veins, the pain of knowing no one can save you…"
Kreel walked to where his voice was coming from, even looking down over the edge of the car, but the man who owned it was nowhere to be found.
"This was how I felt after what you and your men did to us," his voice came again. "After the burning ceased, all that was left was that painful cold, and the hollow sensation in your lungs that feels like a thousand bristles scratching inside your chest. That feeling never went away, and the numb cold hides away sensations I'll never feel again."
Kreel turned again to where his voice was coming from, swearing the Mandalorian sounded closer than before, but still he was no closer to finding him than earlier.
But then, the sound of pressurized gas hissed through the air, followed by the Mandalorian finishing his chilling sentence:
"And now, neither will you."
Kreel turned again, this time anticipating to be facing an oncoming vibro blade or a point blank shot from a blaster, but instead, he had been faced with an encroaching trail of blue flames. They were carried by the passing wind, scorching the air to a crisp and rendering the falling snow to steam. He brought his hands up in front of his face out of habit, but then he felt the searing heat of the flames engulfing his hands, wrapping around his arms and hitting his body. The heat crept its way under his armor, and as soon as it went into his helmet did he react to his error, thrashing around in terror. "AAAGH-AAGH-AGH! AAAAAAGH!"
The Mandalorian stepped forward, continuing to spray fire onto Kreel until his flamethrowers ran out of fuel. Even as the Imperial burned where he stood, he still had to finish the job he set out to do for so long. He pulled a vibro knife from his boot, flourishing it around in his hand as he came within striking distance of Kreel, then he raised his blade up and got ready to strike, aiming right for his neck.
But Kreel had been thrashing around so much that the knife missed where it was supposed to go, getting lodged in his shoulder instead. The sudden sharp pain snapped him out of the previous searing pain, his reaction being a wild kick to the Mandalorians stomach, sending his attacker falling back.
Once the flames died off, Kreel ripped the knife out from his shoulder, growling in pain as he looked over himself and the damage that had been done. The palms of his gloves were completely burned off, as were multiple spots of his bodysuit, and his once pristine white armor had now been covered in black soot. He was certain parts of him were burnt too, but he had other problems to contend with, spotting the Mandalorian getting back on his feet. He drew his pistol and took aim at him, firing shot after shot at his head, each one plinking off his armor. He kept on firing, screaming as he charged him.
The Mandalorian was too late to try and make any counter, grunting as he was shoved off the train, plummeting to the chasm below.
Kreel heaved heavy breaths afterwards, relieved that it was finally over. He stood up and walked away from the edge of the roof, getting on coms and told the engineer, "It's done, intruder is dealt with. Full speed ahead for Point B."
"Copy sir." Shortly following his reply, the train sped up immediately.
Kreel rubbed his arms once he started to relax, feeling the harsh bite of the cold winds washing over him once again. He decided it was time to go back in and see about healing his wounds, trudging his way along to the ladder. It was a painful climb down, but at least it was a straight shot to the engine. He just wished his men survived along with him.
"Agh!" He collapsed as he felt a shot of pain run through his side, landing on a tank of Rhydonium. He looked under his arm and saw more of just how much damage had been done; the part of his body suit that covered his abdomen had been seared off, and his side was burnt to a crisp. He scoffed, knowing the body glove should've been the last line of protection he had against fire, of all things. "Blasted nerf herder…" It took him all the will he had left to stand back up and start walking again.
He crossed to the second flatcar, a jump that felt more difficult than it should have been. He tried to quicken his pace and hurry to the engine before the cold finally got to him. But as he made his way to the middle of the train car, he heard a metallic thud behind him.
"I'm still here, Kreel!" The Mandalorian called out, grabbing a blaster rifle as he jumped down from the roof of the train car. He had been aiming at Kreel, approaching steadily towards him.
"You fool! If you shoot me you risk hitting the Rhydonium!" Kreel scowled, leaning against one of the stacks of tanks. "Are you so bent on revenge you'd see us both sky high?"
"If that's what it takes, then that is the Way!" The Mandalorian let out a wild roar, striking Kreel in the head with his rifle and toppling him to the floor. He took aim at the exposed section of Kreel's armor.
But Kreel was quick to react, kicking out his leg and making the Mandalorian fall to his knees, then he kicked again in the head. He and the Mandalorian both stood up, and once on their feet again it became a heated brawl. The sounds of fists hitting Beskar plates rung through the air like howling chimes.
The Mandalorian had to admit that he was impressed with Kreel's endurance, even after being badly burned and freezing cold he was able to keep up with him. But he knew he'd get the better of him soon. He lurched forward, striking Kreel's ankle and staggering him; Kreel returned with a hard shoulder to his chest, making him back into a stack of fuel tanks. As Kreel went in for another blow, the Mandalorian threw his arm up and knocked Kreel's fist away, then he slammed his helmet into his opponent.
Kreel staggered away, only to return to blocking another hailstorm of the Mandalorians' punches. He slowly started fighting back again, throwing in his own mix of kicks to try and force an opening, but he knew he would never win unless he did something more drastic. He had to throw the Mandalorian off balance, but the only thing he could think of was stepping against the tanks and thrusting himself at him. This was mildly successful, getting him in close enough to prevent the Mandalorian from hitting him, but now it was a battle of raw strength that could turn out either way. The edge of the train car was just a few feet away, he only needed to bring his assailant there and shove him off, and hopefully he'd stay off. But as the two wrestled, he found that was not so easy.
"Rrrrrr-AAAAAGH!" With that animalistic roar, the Mandalorian threw Kreel off his feet and sent him slamming into the Rhydonium tanks, causing the stack to fall on top of him. The sounds of multiple alarms beeping sounded off, warning of the dangerous state the Rhydonium was in now. Some of the tanks started rolling about on their own, moved by the momentum of the train and off the sides of the train car.
"You're going to kill us both!" Kreel cried, throwing a high flying punch as hard as he could. But his wrist was caught by the Mandalorian, who threw his own punch, and Kreel did the same. Once again it was an atrocious battle of might.
But the Mandalorian was growing tired of the standoff, flexing his thumb and turning on his flame throwers. He growled as he pushed against Kreel's grip, turning his arm steadily towards his opponent's head, and once it was in his line of fire, he opened the line and sent a jet of white fire streaming against the top of Kreel's helmet.
Kreel fought hard to get the jets of fire away from him, but the Mandalorian was just too strong. As the fire continued to scorch the top of his helmet, he began to feel the heat radiating through, soon becoming a painful experience like his head was being put through an oven. Once it was too much to bear, a rush of adrenaline surged through, allowing him to finally shove the Mandalorian's arm away. But his opponent returned with his other flamethrower turned on, burning white hot like before against his chestplate. "Wha- what are those things?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?" The Mandalorian barked, striking Kreel's abdomen with his free hand, the red hot nozzles burning their target's flesh.
Enraged, Kreel sought to finish the battle once and for all, kicking the Mandalorian back and grabbing a loose Rydonium tank, throwing it as hard as he could.
The Mandalorian caught the tank, but he quickly realized now that he had given Kreel just the opportunity he needed, watching him run and shove him off the edge of the train, once again falling down the mountainside.
But he wasn't going down that easily. He threw his arm ahead and fired his grappling hook, but the train was moving so fast, as soon as his hook caught a hold, the line snapped and jammed his arm. He was at the mercy of the speeding train now, unable to reach for his jetpack controls while he tumbled around in the air.
Kreel saw that the Mandalorian was still not gone for good. "So persistent…" he groaned, looking around for the blaster rifle the Mandalorian dropped. He took aim and started firing, hoping to land a hit wherever possible.
"Rrrrgh! Ugh!" The Mandalorian struggled to get control of his movement, made more difficult while Kreel fired at him. His armor protected him from a killshot, but if the line was hit then it was all over. Kreel hit his shoulder, once again sending him into a wild tumble. He reached around to see if he had any other weapons with him, but only his detonators remained. What he could do with them wasn't ideal, but it was all he had now. "I have a bad feeling about this…"
Taking a detonator from his belt, he turned it on and counted down, raising his arm as high as he could. But then, a wild gust of wind made him tumble around again, and he lost his grip on the explosive device.
Kreel heard a sharp metallic snap, looking along the wall of the nearest train car to see a flashing red light. He panicked, turning on his jetpack in hopes of escaping the blast, but it came too soon, exploding in a ball of fire, along with all the Rhydonium. "AGH!"
BOOM-BOOM-BOO-BOO-BOOM! Like a great thundering storm, the Rhydonium ruptured in a cataclysmic blast of multicolored flames, shocking the very air, ripping the mountainside apart. A seismic boom so powerful it demolished the railway and everything beyond for several meters, leaving nothing untouched in its wake.
Not even the Mandalorians grappling line, which snapped under the incredible pressure of the blast.
"WOAH!" he had been sent hurtling away from the train, unable to stabilize himself as he fell. With his arm free again, he tried reaching for his jetpack. However, he did not realize his fatal mistake, not realizing how close to the ground he already was; as his jetpack switched on, it sent him flying through a wall of trees, and to the rocky floor below. "Agh-!"
THUD!