A/N: I'm not one to demand you listen to specific music while you read. Or break the story right in the middle of the action and go "(Start playing– Rip and Tear, Doom 2016.)" I think NOT. That's all up to you, and the speed of our reading is always different. That said, the Need For Speed: Most Wanted pursuit themes remind me quite a bit of the Clone Wars OST, especially the first season. That and the Mad Max Fury Road OST were listened to while writing the early chapters. Epic orchestrations of various songs on YouTube from Samuel Kim and Boris Harizanov also worked quite well with coming up with ideas in my head, along with Two Steps From Hell and, of course, Mick Gordon's work. (Man, you can just feel the autism, can't you?)
Also, as of this very moment, this story is the longest, most favorited, most followed, most reviewed, most recently published, and most recently updated Doom/SW Crossover on this website. (Not like that's saying much, though, when you look at the competition. Dare you to make a better one!)
"Now's our chance! Go!" Fixer barked, shooting away from the terminal in the comms center.
Boss agreed, glancing once more at the terminal's monitor showing the security footage of the bridge. The Mandalorians in the bridge had just opened their own windowpanes and hovered out, carrying Master Vos and the assassin Ventress. It was in response to the Slayer's arrival, which meant their small window of opportunity had opened.
Sev hit the controls, and the doors slid open. Residual smoke coiled out into the hallway, which Delta Squad emerged from quickly, scanning in the four cardinal directions before Boss indicated the right direction with two fingers.
"Everyone'll be watching the Slayer come here," Sev observed as they rushed through the halls. "Shame, really. I was looking forward to, ah, meeting them."
"And then saying goodbye soon after," Scorch finished as they rounded a bend.
Sev made a derisive sound. "Nah, I don't think they even get a goodbye. Don't deserve it. They can have my middle finger."
Scorch hissed. "Yikes."
Boss was the first to reach the turbolift doors. He pounded the door controls, and by the time the rest of Delta Squad had caught up, the doors had dinged softly open.
Three Death Watch troopers were inside. One was saying to the others, "It'll be fine, lads. Once Vizsla wins, dinner's on… me..."
His hesitant words trailed off upon seeing the four commandos glaring at them through their bright blue visors.
For a few grim seconds, no one moved.
The lead trooper finally drew the small rifle on his belt. But it had not cleared its holster before a storm of blasterfire shredded him and the other two to pieces. They collapsed on the floor of the elevator, steaming from their wounds.
Delta Squad strode in, unconcerned. Sev gave one of the bodies a little kick as he did. "Can't blame him. He still stinks, though."
"Should we take their beskar?" Fixer suggested as the lift doors dinged shut. "We could analyze it on Kamino or Coruscant."
Boss pondered for a moment before shaking his head. "Not our mission. Besides, if Mandalore finds out, we'd get exposed, or they'd feel bitter towards the Republic."
Sev grunted. "Makes sense. Still stinks."
A short while later, the turbolift came to the top floor, and as the doors dinged open, they once more filed out with guns in every direction. This time, they were lucky they did; four Death Watch troopers were in that little lobby. By now, Delta Squad knew their weak points. Blaster bolts went between the chinks in their armor, and in five seconds, all but one of the troopers was soon down for the count.
That one trooper laughed nervously, dropped his gun, and brought his hands over his helmet. "Well. What else can you do, you know?"
Fixer turned to Boss. Boss nodded. Fixer sheathed his main rifle. He drew his sidearm, pointed directly at the trooper's gut, and fired.
As the corpse toppled to the ground, all of Delta Squad was silent. They knew their objective. They knew they couldn't carry prisoners with them. And yet, there was an unspoken bad taste in everyone's mouth.
"Come on," Boss finally said, pointing. "Right this way."
Delta Squad followed.
Finally arriving at the bridge, Boss grimaced. The gargantuan blast doors were shut. And the only way to open them was from the inside.
"Fierfek," Scorch hissed. "All my ordnance couldn't blast through that."
"Ventilation shafts," Boss quickly deduced. "Only one of us."
Scorch raised his hand. "I can do it. But I need you to be ready once I get the doors open."
The grate of the shaft was a little further ahead, around the corner and high up on the wall. Scorch took off his jetpack, rifle, and explosive supplies, then stood on Sev's and Boss's hands while they boosted him up. A few shots to the bolts holding the grate in place loosened it, and he shunted the grate down to Fixer, crawled inside, and took the grate back from Fixer and resecured it.
"See you in a bit," Sev bid, giving an ironic salute.
Scorch nodded, then clambered up the shaft and disappeared from sight.
Sev picked up Scorch's equipment. The rest of Delta Squad hurried back to the enormous blast doors. Fixer brought out his datapad and squinted at it. "Seems like there's still some life forms in the bridge. And the ship's reactor power has been raised."
"They'll try to lift off!" Sev realized, hoisting his rifle.
"While the majority of their forces are down on the ground?" Fixer asked.
"Course. If the Slayer's down there, they're as good as dead. Whoever's on the bridge'll try to salvage whatever's left," Sev rationalized.
"Can you see who it is?" Boss asked, peeking over Fixer's shoulder. The display was all Huttese to him, so he listened intently for Fixer.
"Eh… I can't tell. But there's only five Mandalorians on the bridge by now. Navigation droids and stuff too. Once Scorch gets the doors open, they won't be a problem."
The air was oddly quiet as they waited. The shifts and crinkles of their armor in miniscule movements seemed much louder than they actually were. The bangs and shuffles of the ship around them made them turn in the proper direction and point their guns at the nonexistent phantoms.
"Gah… It's too quiet out there," Sev growled.
Silence permeated them as they remained on guard, pointing into the hallways, eyes peeled for any sign of movement. There was none. Death Watch had been drawn out of their stronghold by the Slayer.
Then a bang came from inside the blast doors, turning every head. Some blasterfire followed, followed by a heavy thud and the impacts of blaster bolts into metal. Yelling, more shots. Ricochets, soft explosions. And finally, the six layers of blast doors all slowly slid open.
Sev began firing the instant an opening was made. Smoke and the flickers of flames could be seen as the doors dilated open. Boss and Fixer somersaulted through the instant it was wide enough, and Sev charged through, firing into the fray.
The nav droids and security droids were all opening fire on a databank, behind which was obviously Scorch taking cover. Broken droid pieces and flaming debris littered the floor already. A small sphere sailed out over the top, and a net of blazing blue electricity burst from it, shutting half a dozen B1s down.
Scorch dived out from behind his cover, snatching a fallen droid's blaster and opening fire. Scorch never stayed still, circling the room and downing droids with semi-automatic fire. While those droids were focused on him, the rest of Delta Squad took them down easily.
The Death Watch troopers, however, were a bit harder. They barked in alarm and shot at Delta Squad, who quickly took cover behind navigation chairs and the edges of the bridge's corners. Sev, however, snatched up a B1 chassis and held it up to absorb the blasterfire concentrating at him while he charged the nearest trooper.
The trooper spewed a gout of flame at Sev, who tanked it and emerged from the cloud of fire close enough to hurl the B1 at the trooper, then deck him in the head. The trooper responded by snatching Sev by the shoulder and trying to lock it. Sev just hurled the trooper onto the ground in response, slamming on top of him shortly afterward.
One trooper turned his attention to Sev on the ground. He was shot in the neck the instant this happened, toppling over and giving Sev the time he needed to get back up.
"Saxon!" one of the remaining troopers yelled over the sound of blasterfire. "What do we do?"
"Get the ship off the ground! Now!" Gar Saxon ordered, then ducked to a databank. The cover of the remaining droids firing at Delta Squad gave Saxon the time the other trooper needed to get to the central control panel.
"Oh, no you don't!" Sev bellowed. He hurled the charred B1 chassis at the trooper, then followed up with a salvo of blasterfire over the control panels he was behind.
But it was too late. The blaster bolts hit the trooper, but his hand was on the button. He slumped on the console, pushing the requisite controls.
A deep rumble came from within the depths of the core ship. Boss's legs started to wobble as the engines began to warm up.
Scorch seized Gar Saxon from behind in a headlock. Both of them were wheezing and snarling with the utmost hate, thrashing about and struggling towards the windowpanes.
Saxon roared and pivoted, hurling Scorch's back against the panes. The heavy glass, already damaged and pockmarked by small arms fire, creaked and cratered on impact. Scorch locked his legs against Saxon's waist and used his hand to fiddle with the rocket on his jetpack.
Saxon ignited the jetpack. The flames shot out, coating Scorch's thigh armor and blackening it. Scorch bellowed and managed to fire the rocket. It immediately impacted on the ceiling, showering Saxon and Scorch in hot metal debris. The two of them separated, lying on the ground amid the smoking detritus.
A deep two-note alarm was blaring from the loudspeakers. The rest of the droids had gone silent by now, and Boss, Fixer, and Sev rushed for Scorch. He was hissing and grunting as he examined his thighs. The armor was broken, and when Scorch moved his legs up, he made sounds of pain.
Boss went to Saxon, slid his helmet off, and grabbed him by the collar. He slapped him across the face, hard. "What was Death Watch doing on Concordia?"
Saxon grimaced and said nothing, staring with naked hate at the clone.
Boss jutted a four-inch blade from his wrist and slashed Saxon across the cheek. Blood ran down his skin, and Boss seized Saxon's jaw while hovering the blade over his right eye. "Don't make me repeat myself, sleemo," he darkly warned.
Saxon was hyperventilating. He swallowed. "What do you think, clone? Install Prime Minister Almec as the Duke of Mandalore. If Mandalore wouldn't do it willingly, it would do so out of force."
"Tell us how to stop the launch sequence," Boss ordered next.
Saxon just laughed. "A ship this big? There is no abort sequence. It's like transferring the energy into your legs to jump. You can't stop it." He leaned forward. "You can't stop Death Watch."
Scorch crawled through the tinkling debris beside Saxon, his fist tight around a twisted piece of steel. "Maybe not. But we can stop you, fag."
And Scorch slammed the jagged end deep into Saxon's eye. Scarlet blood spurted and fountained from the wound, covering Saxon's entire face, and he shrieked, tapering off at the end. After some convulsion and shuddering, Saxon stopped moving forever.
Scorch was panting hard as he let go of the metal scrap in Saxon's face and looked up at Boss. He flicked some blood from the end of his gauntlet. "Sorry if there was more you wanted to ask him. Favorite color, ice cream flavor, whatever. It's a mystery forever now."
Rather than answer him, Boss turned to Sev. "Can you get the blast doors shut again?"
"Doubt it," Sev answered, casting his eyes about the smoking, ruined bridge. "Most of these controls are in shambles. I'll try, but..."
Boss looked at Fixer next. "Download what you can and record the rest. Let's hurry, before this ship gets off the ground and into orbit. Or the rest of Death Watch investigates the bridge." He looked up at the ceiling, where alarm lights spun and the siren blared. "Whichever comes first."
On the dusty plains, in the core ship's shadow, six bright lights whirled and split the darkness apart. Surrounding them were the remnants of Death Watch and the dead, silhouetted sentinels of battle droids and tanks.
A green saber was in each of the Slayer's hands. They were windmilling and twisting to meet the alternating strikes from Quinlan, Ventress, and Vizsla. All three of them were triangulating him in, making him not stand still for a second. He would slap the darksaber away and swipe Ventress' red sabers out wide, then meet Quinlan's emerald saber with both blades and swipe at his feet, scuttling him backwards.
The Slayer twisted as he flipped around and swirled his lightsabers. Upon impacting the darksaber, he adjusted the angle of his stance and met the strike from Quinlan on the other blade. They stayed locked for about half a second before the Slayer shot free and kicked the back of Quinlan's leg. He went stumbling, and the Slayer turned back to Vizsla. He raised his blade high.
As it came down, it impacted Ventress' twin red blades. Ventress flung his blade away and lept for a whirling strike at the Slayer, which missed.
It was a cacophony of sound as the sabers clashed and swished away, each impact a flash of light, as they zoomed and snarled through the air, whipping and ripping and swirling and thrusting. The Slayer's every move was quick enough to meet saber strikes and guide them away, to evade strikes by one opponent and catch the other two with one of his own sabers.
Of course the Slayer's armor could withstand lightsabers. But A), if they discovered they couldn't penetrate the Praetor Suit, they'd retreat and his mission would fail, and B), it wouldn't hurt to take at least something seriously. Who knew if he'd run into one of those Marauders again? Martial combat was needed; the Sentinel Dark Ages had proved that much.
At the same time, it did infuriate him that this was the best he was getting for the moment. One of his combatants was just a guy with a jetpack!
Said guy swished his darksaber in a two-handed overhead slash. The Slayer met his strike horizontally, then let the saber drop, making Vizsla stumble. The Slayer opted not to kill him just yet; he needed the practice! Instead, he backhanded his beskar helmet, making him fly back and tumble to a halt.
Quinlan Vos drove a series of low thrusts and cuts at the Slayer's feet. The Slayer, seeing what Quinlan wanted, promptly jumped and flipped over Quinlan's head, slashing to meet the upraised thrust Quinlan directed at his back. The Slayer landed, spun, and met a follow-up strike from Quinlan. His other arm swept wide out to meet a scissor-cut by the bald lady. Once again, they were locked in the strike.
It got boring rather quickly.
The Slayer irritably swirled Quinlan's blade up and cut down.
Quinlan's left wrist came up.
Upon contact with Quinlan's gauntlet, the Slayer's blade fizzled out with a wink.
Surprised, the Slayer looked down at the non-functioning end. He tapped it against his helmet a few times.
"Cortosis," Quinlan supplied, shaking his left hand from the impact. "Short-circuits lightsaber blades. That end'll be useless for the next few minutes."
The Slayer glared at the cortosis gauntlet, his humming lightsaber still holding Ventress back. Then he clipped it to his side, withdrew the UAC rocket launcher from hammerspace, and pointed at the ground.
Quinlan barked in alarm and shot backwards right before the rocket impacted the earth, throwing a geyser of earth into the sky and darkening both of their visions. The Slayer took the time to put it back away and leap away from Ventress as well, swirling his saber in a defensive wheel so Ventress couldn't press him.
Instead, she ran to Quinlan, who was already on his feet. "Don't tell me you're not out of the fight yet!"
"I've been worse," Quinlan dismissed. He frowned and narrowed his eyes at the Slayer, who was now engaged with Vizsla. The Slayer, of course, could sense the words from both of them even as he drove back Vizsla with hard, inexorable strokes. Their conversation gave the Slayer something else to focus on.
"Did you see what I saw?" Ventress was asking. "That weapon…"
"It was like it appeared out of thin air," Quinlan numbly finished. "How did he…" After some more silent examination, he turned to the female Death Watch trooper who had rushed to his side as well. "Contact Anakin Skywalker on my comms. Tell him to come down here, now!"
The Slayer, meanwhile, slammed the darksaber aside so hard his blade bounced off Vizsla's helmet. The Slayer followed it up with an uppercut to the same helmet, carefully measuring his strength to not instantly kill Vizsla. A lesson needed to be taught here first.
Vizsla toppled to the ground, dazed and stunned. The surrounding Death Watch troopers got visibly angry, even though their helmets couldn't show it. Bowing over, five of them launched their rockets in tandem.
Two rockets overshot and erupted in concussive fireballs way behind him. The Slayer caught a third rocket in his free hand and hurled it back at the Mandalorian who had shot it. The other two were slashed by his lightsaber, blowing up near his face and blocking his vision with fire and smoke.
His vision cleared in time to see a trooper, not Vizsla, pick up and ignite the darksaber. He swished it a few times before sprinting at the Slayer.
To his credit, the Slayer didn't immediately kill him either. He allowed two swipes from the trooper. Then he slashed the trooper through the middle and cut his arm off right at the elbow. The darksaber shut down and clattered on the earth.
Nearly instantly, a cable shot out, snagged the darksaber, and retracted into the wrist armor of a second nameless trooper. He, too, ignited the darksaber and stood between the Slayer and Vizsla in a guarding stance.
A blaze of scarlet roared behind the Slayer, and he turned to meet the twin sabers of Ventress with a crash on his own blade. The darksaber also swished violently upon the Slayer, and he merely kicked his leg up behind him, knocking the darksaber out of the trooper's broken hand and sending it shooting into the air, quickly reaching its apex.
Before it could hit the ground again, the Slayer's hand reached out and caught the whirring darksaber. With the second weapon in hand, he re-engaged Asajj Ventress in a flurry of strikes, parries, swirls, and clashes. Every half-second, a flash of light came from the contacts. The crackles of their contacts and the shifts of their feet on the dusty earth could barely be heard over the aggressive, ultra-violent audio blaring from the Slayer's helmet.
Whether it was red on green or red on black, the sabers endlessly flashed and snarled as they whipped around each combatant. The passing light reflected off the Slayer's expressionless visor and illuminated Ventress' pale face, contorting with effort.
Ventress thrust. The Slayer curved around the blade and bashed it aside with the beskar hilt of the darksaber. Her other saber blocked a strike like a meteor, sending her stumbling. She instantly flashed back at him, whirring her blades in a cross.
The Slayer flipped over her, slapping her blades aside, and double-jumped right as he was about to hit the ground, dashing back at Ventress. She yelped and barely managed to avoid the first, then second slash. Whirling her saber in a blurry wheel, she slashed at the Slayer's knees and head simultaneously.
The Slayer went horizontal, between the blades. In midair, as he spun, his foot connected with her hand, knocking the saber flying. As he got back to one foot, the Slayer pivoted to face her and punched hard. The alarmed woman could only summon a small ward of invisible Force to break his attack, which blew her backwards. She tumbled and caromed off a rock, rolling onto her stomach.
Now, as for Quinlan–
Which was about as far as he got before the bootsole of Quinlan's foot connected with his visor. It didn't hurt, but it did surprise him enough to send him stumbling back a foot. Quinlan was visibly angry now, and the Slayer couldn't help but feel like it came from Ventress, barely moving on the faraway earth. Perhaps he felt some kind of protectiveness over her.
Quinlan reached out and pulled. The saber clipped on the Slayer's belt drew horizontally. Then broke free. It sailed into Quinlan's other hand and ignited, clear and crisp as always. Evidently the effects of the cortosis had worn off by now. Quinlan swirled both green blades in expertly timed directions before adopting a defensive stance.
The Slayer regarded Quinlan holding one half of his lightsaber. Then he indicated the darksaber in his left hand and tossed it towards Quinlan. At the same time, he tugged at his mental link in his lightsaber, making it fly out of Quinlan's hand.
The result was that the Slayer now had both halves of his saber, one in either hand. And Quinlan Vos now held the whirring darksaber in his left hand and his own green one in the other.
Off to the sides, the surviving members of Death Watch gasped and muttered. "Heresy!" was the whisper hissed among them.
Initially surprised, the dirtied Jedi shrugged. "If you insist," he warned darkly.
The Slayer took that as his cue to rush Quinlan– not too hard, not too fast, but fast enough to give him a hard time. Quinlan, however, met every strike with steadfastness. He even responded several times by swishing up his gauntlet right as the Slayer was about to strike and forcing the Slayer to aim elsewhere.
It was as if the world around them had turned green and black– they were trapped in a bubble of swirling, blinding blades that just barely missed or hissed and bounced back on impact with each other. Quinlan, despite the proximity of the lights, could be seen clearly trying hard. As if he was afraid the Slayer would finish Ventress off if not for him.
Ventress, Ventress… where had he heard that name before? The Slayer pondered as the duel raged on. Even as Quinlan cut up while blocking with the darksaber, even as he leaped into the air and spun both blades like a helicopter while still keeping his gaze on the Slayer as much as possible. The Slayer easily met these assaults and deflected them away, shifting his stance to always face Quinlan.
VEGA, for his part, was pulling up old records and datafiles on Ventress. And as the Slayer finally caught a break from Quinlan's relentless strikes and dashed backwards, he remembered: the fleet sent to intercept him at Mustafar was originally under Ventress' command. The Tactical droid had said as much. So Ventress was a Separatist. Fighting against the Republic. Against the Jedi.
Which begged the question: why would she tolerate Quinlan at all? Why did he tolerate her? Was it their pursuit of him? They had shown up here together, alone. Not to knock on Death Watch's door and ask for a cup of sugar. To engage him. Results were expected. And if they failed…
The Slayer flipped the grip on one of his sabers as Quinlan dashed him again. Once more, blades clashed, sabers squealed and bounced off each other, and fans of green split the air apart. The buzzing of the sabers was like hornets in the Slayer's ears, and he responded by amping up the chaos and violence bubbling from his speakers.
He wasn't actually angry at Quinlan. He'd done nothing wrong. But he couldn't come into Republic custody on their terms. He'd be imprisoned, and then the only way to get out would be antagonizing the entire Grand Army of the Republic.
Not like he couldn't take them on, of course.
Quinlan slashed up, and it followed into a kick against the Slayer's helmet that did nothing. As he regained his stance, Quinlan intentionally bashed his wrist against one of the Slayer's sabers. Once again, it winked out.
Tired of the whole darn thing by now, the Slayer conjoined the dead saber end back on and aimed directly below the cortosis gauntlet. Quinlan, incredibly, shifted aside just in time, and the hilt came into his elbow pit. The Slayer's other hand reached for the darksaber and yanked it out as Quinlan twisted his arm while pushing with the Force.
The Slayer now had the Darksaber. And Quinlan had his saber and his own. The Slayer was tempted to snicker. Hot potato, hot potato.
Quinlan, for his part, glared at the Slayer's saber before retracting it, tossing it aside, and adopting a two-handed stance with his own saber.
Respecting the Jedi's intention, the Slayer chose to not pick up his own saber just yet. Instead, he cut down with the darksaber.
Once more, their blades crossed in quick succession. Half a dozen times, a miss, then half a dozen more. Deep black lines burned deep into the dusty earth. Quinlan was driven back relentlessly, and his skin glistened with sweat in the glare of their sabers.
Quinlan swirled the Slayer's blade away and spun past him, bashing his saber on his hip as he did. The Slayer irritably blazed the darksaber in a flurry and slammed Quinlan's saber back, ducked under his swipe, then flipped over his low cut and kicked him in the gut. The Jedi flipped back and miraculously landed on his feet.
"Impossible," Quinlan wheezed. He dashed back, even more out of the Slayer's reach. All of a sudden, Quinlan's eyes were flickering between the Slayer's blade and his stance.
The Slayer swirled the darksaber once more before dropping into a new guarding stance. What had Quinlan noticed?
"Something's off," Quinlan noted, pointing. "That flip you did just now, that flurry before you struck, was Ataru. Yet just a second ago, you were using Djem So. And before all that, you were using Jar' Kai. I wouldn't be surprised if you even know Vaapad. Your transition between forms was seamless, like you've been training your entire life, but you only picked up a lightsaber a little bit ago. Either you're a natural beyond even Master Yoda, or you lost your original lightsaber before you came to Florrum."
The Slayer grimaced. Florrum, his martial skills. Quinlan knew that much about him. What else did he know?
An ignition came behind him, and the Slayer turned to meet his own saber, now in the hands of Pre Vizsla, who was sporting a heavy dent in his helmet, but was as lively as ever, roaring as he swung at the Slayer.
"Vizsla!" Bo-Katan cried from the perimeter.
"That's ours!" Vizsla bellowed, bashing on the darksaber. "Mandalorian! An outsider will never rule Mandalore!"
The Slayer turned to glare back at Quinlan, who dashed at his unprotected back. The Slayer broke from Vizsla's saber lock and smashed into Quinlan, driving him back with Makashi's style of quick dueling thrusts. He began alternating between meeting Vizsla and Quinlan, reaching the darksaber behind his back on occasion and spinning gradually to meet both of them as they wailed on him as openings permitted.
And then a distant third ignition came from Ventress, who was evidently recovered from her knockout, and the Slayer decided it was time to level the playing field.
He kicked Vizsla in the breastplate and thrust the darksaber at Quinlan's face. The Jedi dodged every thrust, but the Slayer was expecting him to. He just needed to unbalance Quinlan.
Quinlan dashed back and yanked with the Force. The earth beneath the Slayer's foot suddenly buckled, making him stumble. Quinlan speared his saber upon seeing the opening.
The Slayer shot up and once more aimed just below the cortosis gauntlet.
Plasma sheared leather, weave, flesh, and bone. Quinlan's left arm, severed at the elbow, made a thud as it hit the earth.
Quinlan bellowed and dropped to his knees, his saber clattering out as well. Ventress shrieked and leaped at the Slayer's back. He turned to meet Ventress in midair by snatching her throat, then hurled her into the earth hard enough to throw up dust.
The Slayer finally spun and re-engaged Pre Vizsla. He bashed the darksaber on his own, driving Vizsla back. He did his best to ignore the groans and hisses of pain from Quinlan, and the concerned sounds coming from Ventress behind him.
Vizsla was bellowing and grunting with every exertion. It was clear that his stamina was waning; his strikes were getting wider, his movements slower. But he still wasn't out of the fight.
Vizsla blocked a strike of the darksaber with his gauntlet, momentarily startling the Slayer, and he leaped into the air, hovering on his jetpack ten feet in the air. Vizsla fired a gout of flame from his gauntlet. Two seconds later, he fired a missile from his back.
The missile hit the ground; the Slayer was already in the air. He backhanded Vizsla's helmet, and he went spiraling to the earth. Once the Slayer landed again, he swiped at Vizsla, who barely avoided it. Vizsla tiredly got back to his feet, went into his guard stance, and fired two explosive bolts from his gauntlet.
The Slayer tanked both of them as he closed in. He swirled his own saber aside, sliced Vizsla's arm clean off with the doomblade, then reversed the darksaber's direction and beheaded Vizsla in a wide, clean sweep.
His helmet made a clatter as it hit the earth and rolled.
The remaining members of Death Watch gasped. They were still.
Vizsla's body collapsed into a pool of blood growing from the stump of his arm, steaming at the stump on his neck. The Slayer regarded him silently for a little bit. Regardless of his low power and regardless of his previous actions, Vizsla had gone out fighting, giving it his all, dying with a weapon in his hand. That much, at least, could be respected.
After about five seconds of this, the Slayer bent down and retrieved his saber from the earth beside Vizsla. He clipped it to his belt, then tossed the darksaber down on Vizsla's corpse.
The female Death Watch trooper yelled in rage, grabbed a trooper's rifle while unholstering her own, and took to the skies with an eruption of flame from her back. She began unloading the twin rifles at full auto onto the Slayer, who looked up dispassionately. There was something to find similar in her rage, how it could drive her to fight and overcome her obstacles. But it simply wouldn't do her any good. Not against him, anyway.
So he cocked his fist back and punched the air. The resulting jetstream that erupted from his fist sent the trooper spiraling back to earth, where she crashed into a heap.
"Bo-Katan!" a remaining trooper cried, rushing for her.
The Slayer finally turned back to the two last Force-wielders. Quinlan's belt was opened, and supplies from it were strewn across the dusty earth. Ventress was hastily wrapping some bandages around Quinlan's elbow stump and was muttering as her other hand hovered over it, evidently easing the pain. Quinlan's eyes, however, were firmly on the Slayer.
"Ventress!" Quinlan hissed, whether in pain or in fear. "Did you see that? What he just did?"
Ventress inhaled sharply and looked up to see him staring them down. "Of course. He took Bo-Katan down. I didn't know he… could use the Force!"
"He can't," Quinlan soberly corrected. "I couldn't sense it coming from that blast. There was no Force there."
"But that would mean… that he sent her to the ground… using his strength alone!" Ventress deduced, her eyes gradually growing wider.
The Slayer once again began striding for them, clearly not in a hurry. At this point, the Slayer was actually feeling bad for them. They were out of their element, and Quinlan had fought honorably. The Slayer was considering gifting him enough credits for a replacement mechanical arm.
The whirr of a cruiser growing louder behind him stopped the Slayer in his tracks. All of a sudden, the Slayer's shadow grew in front of him, becoming more and more defined in growing white light. The Slayer, intrigued, turned.
A Jedi shuttle, maroon and bulbous, hovered not even a hundred feet away, sending dust particles flying into its conical light beams. And the hydraulics of its landing ramp hissed open behind it.
Two figures dropped onto the dusty earth, their lightsabers already ignited. One had a bar of singing blue plasma in his hand, and the other had both a green and yellow saber. As they stepped more into the blinding white light of the shuttle, the Slayer could see who they were. A Togruta and a human. Anakin Skywalker, and his apprentice.
Anakin was passive. His apprentice, named Ahsoka by VEGA, was looking fierce and determined. As the shuttle spun around and looped back, evidently to their capital ship, Anakin spun his saber into his signature combat stance.
"Seems we missed something," he noted nonchalantly to the Slayer. "Mind filling us in?"
Ahsoka, meanwhile, had eyes for the figures behind the Slayer, and her eyes widened. Her guard dropped slightly. "Master! It's Quinlan!"
Anakin turned to see the fallen Jedi too. His expression tumbled from passive to grim in an instant. "What did you do?" he quietly asked.
The Doomslayer ignited his emerald swords in an instant and spun his staff in a swirl. These Jedi weren't going to listen to VEGA's explanation. Not here. Not now.
"We'll take him together," Anakin was whispering, unaware that VEGA could pick up on their audio and their lip reading. "You go in fast from the left, and I'll press his front. I want to see what this big shot can really do."
The Slayer's grin broadened. He was thinking the same thing.
"You can't take him!" Quinlan yelled from the side. He winced. "He's too strong!"
"Then you shouldn't have called me down here!" Anakin barked at Quinlan, his face creased in irritation. "I don't care if he's too strong. One way or another, you're going back home, and he's going down."
The Slayer snorted. As if. He shot right for Anakin, blazing his staff in a quick infinity loop.
Anakin managed to guard it. Not deflect. Guard. Even though the Slayer was not nearly using all of his power, it was enough to the point where if anyone could match it, they would be respectable.
Would Skywalker, finally, give him the fight he needed?