Once more, the Slayer was flurrying his lightsaber to meet the strikes from either side of him. But the sheer presence of Ahsoka irritated him. He had come to Concordia and slaughtered Death Watch primarily so Anakin Skywalker could come to him and show off why he was the subject of the future. Ahsoka contributed nothing to that future.
Skywalker was stylish, all right. His swirls and spirals of his lightsaber, and his leaping spins at the Slayer's staff, made Anakin an unpredictable opponent the Slayer couldn't take his eyes off of for long. Meanwhile, Ahsoka swooped in like a hawk from various different angles, slashing and thrusting as occasion demanded, then leaping away in the nick of time. Whenever he had to parry Ahsoka's blades away, the Slayer was forced to sacrifice a split second of attention away from Anakin.
Surely Anakin and his apprentice knew by now that his armor was invulnerable to their weapons. So why did they keep trying? Raging against the inevitable, the immeasurable?
Well, it was what he had done.
The Doomslayer was not ignorant of the sheer overwhelming power inherent to him. But he wasn't always like that. Before the Divinity Machine, he had been just a man. Not superhuman, not a godlike being. And yet as a human, he had fended off Hell on no less than three separate occasions.
Raging against the inevitable was very fundamentally human. More importantly, these Jedi were fighting him for selfless reasons. Simply fighting impossible odds wasn't immediately warranting respect. The demons fought against him too, and the Slayer had no respect for them. But fighting on behalf of something or someone you sincerely believed in was something else entirely.
He'd spare them. Skywalker and Ahsoka were skilled and both had a good heart.
That didn't mean he wasn't annoyed, however. Both of them were doing all in their power to push him to the limits of his patience.
Ahsoka ducked under a swipe and swung her smaller shoto at the Slayer's face, who leaned back and kicked Ahsoka in one fluid motion. Ahsoka landed on her feet two meters back, but she was gasping and heaving.
Now with more freedom to focus on Anakin, the Slayer pivoted and alternated swipes of his staff in different directions, all of which Anakin met. Anakin was snarling with effort, his arms a blur as they redirected the Slayer's cuts. Both of their faces were alternating between illuminated green and blue.
The Slayer took the saber into his right hand and ejected the doomblade. Anakin caught the footlong blade on the edge of his lightsaber and bashed it aside in time to meet one end of the saberstaff, then the other, and back to the doomblade. Anakin used the Force to blast the Slayer's arm aside and dash to his left. The Slayer jumped over him in return, double jumped as Anakin cut up, and fired the meathook into the ground in front of Anakin, dashing himself into the earth in an eruption of dust.
The Slayer's vision cleared in time to see Anakin and Ahsoka cut down simultaneously from either end. He swiveled to meet both their sabers on either end of his staff. He allowed them to push on his blades for a second or two. Then he twisted the staff and disconnected both halves, relaxing his arms and making Anakin and Ahsoka stumble. He hit both of their faces with the hilts and dashed out of reach, blazing the lightsabers in two different swirls.
Anakin and Ahsoka, clearly spurred on, cut from either end in a pincer maneuver– Anakin on the Slayer's right, Ahsoka on his left. The Slayer twisted his wrists at impossible speeds, cutting a spiral on either end and forcing Anakin and Ahsoka to halt out of reach. At the speeds of the sabers, they seemed like solid green cones extending from the Slayer's hand.
It gave the Slayer enough time to rush into Anakin and kick him solidly in the chest. It sent him flying. Anakin hit the dust with a grunt and rolled to a stop.
The Slayer once more turned to Ahsoka and re-engaged her. Once more, green covered the Slayer's senses as the humming lasers blurred and whizzed past each combatant, crashing and smashing into each other every half second. His constant cuts and feints slowly began to overwhelm Ahsoka. Her stance got wider, her pace steadily going back, her arms barely making it to meet his strikes. Ahsoka's face was creased with fear and exertion.
The Slayer, meanwhile, was just confused at her tactics. Why was she using a reverse grip? That only worked for smaller weapons; it just left her more open and made a bigger headache for the wielder to block and strike, since your arms were forced into unnatural positions. Perhaps she just thought she looked cool and wanted to impress the Jedi around her. Suddenly irritated, the Doomslayer began to press even harder. Blades impacted every fourth of a second now, or missed completely.
"Anakin!" Ahsoka cried, her eyes wide and her orange face sweating in the green light. "Hurry!"
This needed to be quick. The Slayer cut once more, but Ahsoka dashed backwards with the Force. The Slayer dashed too, and Ahsoka clearly was not expecting this. She was wide open for a backhand to the face, before she could get her reverse grip up to her head. As he backhanded her, the tip of his lightsaber singed the top of Ahsoka's right montral, and she yelped from both impacts.
The Slayer followed up with a spinning kick to her torso that shot her parallel to the ground. Ahsoka cried out in pain, which was cut short as she impacted the earth, caromed off, and tumbled to a stop on her stomach. She didn't get up or even move once this happened.
"No! Ahsoka!" Anakin yelled, reaching for her.
And the Slayer felt a pang enter his chest. She was just a child! Barely high school age. But that meant that Anakin should have known better than to take her into a combat zone like this one. Against him. The Slayer couldn't be expected to tread on eggshells around his enemies, and even now, what he had done was merciful.
But Anakin couldn't discern any of that. Anakin couldn't even listen.
Anakin Skywalker's eyes were burning as they locked onto the Slayer's helmet. And the Slayer felt a growing sensation within himself too. Anticipation. Pride. A reflection of who he had once been. Anakin had reached that point of an absolute willingness to let loose.
Anakin's teeth parted.
Instantly, an eruption of pure Force billowed from Anakin that fountained dust into the air and actually blew the Slayer back. He shut off his lightsaber and skidded on the earth, and instantly, he was decked in the face by Anakin's right hand, clanging off and knocking his head to the side. Anakin was so relentless in his newfound pursuit and stamina that the Slayer temporarily found himself at a loss as one punch after another, one Force blast after another, struck the Slayer. He wasn't even using his lightsaber at the moment.
But the oddest thing about it all was, the Slayer could actually feel Anakin's Force. Quinlan, Ventress, and Ahsoka's Force abilities, as well as Golyon Chi's back on Florrum, all had a minimal effect on him. But Anakin's Force power was something else entirely. Far more powerful and potent than the rest of the Jedi so far.
The Slayer quickly reoriented himself and began batting Anakin's blows away. The Jedi's fury was evident in every movement, every sound, every strike, and every breath.
"Not her," Anakin snarled between punches. He finally reignited his rich sapphire lightsaber. "Never her!"
The Slayer dashed backwards and reignited his lightsabers just in time to meet a heavy downward strike from Anakin. Then a second, which forced his guard back. The third relentless blow was hard enough to bend the Slayer's grip backwards and bounce off his armor.
Granted, the Slayer wasn't using his whole strength, but Anakin's prowess was incredibly noticeable. And Skywalker was only getting stronger. Each concurrent strike cost more power to block than before, and with each step he took came a new blow. Anakin was inexorable, unstoppable to his dying breath.
And the Doomslayer loved to see it.
In all the fights the Slayer had gotten himself into since first coming into this galaxy and starting his purge of the scum, his main intent was always to draw out the best of their talent and push them to their limits– as he had been forced to do when Hell had invaded his planet.
Golyon Chi had been the first major supernatural element he'd encountered in the galaxy. Durge was an unnaturally resilient bounty hunter working for drug lords. Vos, Ventress, and Vizsla were all capable warriors that gave the Slayer practice with the lightsaber. These all gave him legitimate reasons for engaging with them as long as he had. For all of these trials he was giving the galaxy for its own benefit, the Slayer had intentionally held himself back.
Until now.
"Come on, come on, come on, come on!" Fixer irritably ordered, punching the console fruitlessly. He shook his hand a second later, glaring at the datapad stuck in the main computer port.
Boss once again turned to the open blast doors. The alarm lights were still spinning, and the klaxon was still blaring its two-tone alarm. Despite Sev's best efforts, the controls to close the main doors had been destroyed in the previous firefight. Any minute now, Death Watch and the rest of the droids in the core ship would come to the bridge.
Scorch, meanwhile, flexed one of his legs, freshly bandaged with bacta pads. He winced. "All right, I can move."
"You sure?" Boss asked, turning to his squadmate.
"Yes," Scorch firmly said, though he did make a sound of exertion as he got to his knees. "Look, it's good enough, I promise. Let's just figure out a way to get out of here."
"Hate to tell you this, but… the main entrance is the only way in or out of the bridge," Sev darkly said. "Luckily for me, though. I'm boiling for a fight."
"Then let's go!" Scorch urged, getting to his feet. "Before they get here!"
"We can't! We're only 40% of the way through their database!" Fixer rebuked, fingers flying over the computer keyboard.
"Sev!" Boss snapped, turning to him. "Call in evac. Our cover's blown."
As Sev began to do just that, Boss' attention turned to the security monitors. A repeating whirr came from them as the black-and-white displays showed entire detachments of droids and five-man squads of Mandalorians rushing through the halls.
"Fierfek, we won't make it through their computers in time!" Scorch cried, looking at the monitors as well. He broke away from Boss and lurched to the doorway, snagging his pack as he did. Digging through it, he began to extricate explosives and set them around the edges of the open door.
"Engines at 100% operating capability," chimed the console soon enough, and Boss turned once more to the monitor. "Liftoff sequence initiated."
This is how it feels to be Anakin Skywalker right now.
Fear. Anger. Hate. Fire coursing through your veins, a dull roar of blood in your ears. Every breath comes heavy and deep, every muscle strains, and your vision goes nearsighted and red. And the Force is bracing you up, and never before has it felt so strong, so passionate, as it pounds and rings in your head. Every pulse drives your strikes and your steps, and the world blurs by as you are unleashed.
Every moment is consumed with the thought of the little girl you regard as a younger sister, lying unconscious at the edge of the circle of dead droids boxing you in. Fear turns into passion instantly. The thoughts of your own safety and preservation are instantly incinerated in the white-hot furnace embedded in your heart. Why should you care that the Huttslayer is clearly holding back? That's not the point.
The point is to send a message across to him, in the plainest and most concise way you know.
Their blades locked in a strike. Anakin wasn't content with only that, and his other hand surged for the Slayer's neck. His face was contorted in pure hatred. Anakin's hand couldn't bend the armor or even reach into the chink there. But he truly didn't care at this point. The Slayer needed to know that no one was going to take that without a fight.
Even if he did simply batter Anakin's arm away and dash backwards.
The little launcher hanging over the Slayer's shoulder ignited and fired a spray of flame, to keep some distance. Anakin, however, caught the flame close to his open palm with the Force and bundled it up into a transparent, flickering sphere. The head-sized fireball then launched itself out of his grip and hit the floor in front of the Slayer, creating a smoke and dust screen.
Anakin emerged from the screen, his blade flashing in a vindictive storm. The Slayer wasn't there, though; he had dashed around behind Anakin, and only barely met his strikes. Initially surprised, Anakin quickly retook the momentum to go back on the offensive.
Anakin once again engaged the Slayer. The cuts of his saber were both wide and blindingly fast, zooming from a different direction every time. The Slayer's blades, of course, met them and bounced his blade back. Anakin cut at the Slayer's knees while ducking, and the Slayer jumped over them, slashing just over Anakin's head as he did. Anakin cut in the same direction, keeping the Slayer's blades out to the side, and Anakin instantly used the Force to shove the Slayer back about thirty feet.
The Slayer once more sprinted for Anakin, and Anakin, sensing where the Slayer's foot was about to go, shoved his hand out. The ground beneath his descending foot suddenly broke into a hollow crater, and the Slayer stumbled as his foot overextended by just a tad.
It gave Anakin the chance to move swiftly in under his guard and thrust his lightsaber into the green space suit. The blade, however, bounced off and went to the side, under his armpit.
Of course. Of course! As Anakin was hurled back by the Slayer's arm, he skidded to a halt and screamed in anger once again. He fired another telekinetic blast at the Slayer, who tanked it, but gave Anakin enough time to call something from across the field. The small object zoomed at a third of the speed of sound into his free left hand with a thump. Anakin then ignited Ahsoka's saber and swirled both blades in a cross just as the Slayer fired a blast of air from his fist– not Force, oddly enough.
Anakin used the Force to anchor himself in the ground and turned his shoulder to it. The air pressure instantly snapped his robes against his skin, loosening them and tearing some folds off entirely. He recovered in time to meet the Slayer's strikes once more.
Blades split the air apart and roared in Anakin's ears, flashing green and blue all across his vision. Anakin no longer felt pressured or burdened by the Slayer, however, and as he returned the strikes, he could feel the Slayer giving way. He was only walking back, to be sure, but why, Anakin didn't know. He was obviously stronger than Anakin, so why was he letting Anakin go all out? To allow Anakin to wear himself out enough before making his own move?
Anakin couldn't let that happen.
Anakin's next cut was caught in the Slayer's hand, which had tossed his own lightsaber high into the air. The sizzling blue blade was firm in the Huttslayer's hand, unmoving.
Momentarily shocked, Anakin pushed a bit harder, making the Slayer put more in as well. Then he quickly shut off his saber, making the Slayer stumble from the lack of resistance. Anakin quickly ducked and spun in, re-ignited it, and slapped both his and Ahsoka's blades against the Slayer's front. The sun-temperature blades didn't penetrate the Slayer's armor, but Anakin wasn't counting on it. He just needed to push the Slayer back. And he did, by about three feet. His outstretched arm caught the lightsaber the Slayer had tossed in the air.
Anakin cut with both blades so far forward, the Slayer leaned back. Learning from Ahsoka's mistake, he swerved aside as the Slayer's kick came up. Anakin then reached out with the Force and grabbed the Slayer's upraised foot. He thrust his hand to the side, and the Slayer toppled to the ground momentarily.
Anakin, sensing the instant danger, dashed backwards as the Slayer spun and furiously got to his feet, like a breakdancer. After getting the distance he needed, Anakin seized him through the Force again and fired him backwards. Out of the makeshift ring they had been fighting in.
The Slayer's back plowed through dead droids and shattered them to pieces, throwing scrap everywhere. The Slayer's feet hit the earth and skidded back, carving twin trenches in the earth and going far enough back to nearly impact one of the 50-foot, three-legged Octuptarra droids. The Slayer turned his head up to regard the enormous droid artillery piece. He shut off his lightsabers and put them away.
And, to Anakin's shock, he grabbed one of the enormous legs. He had to wrap his entire arms around the thing, but slowly, he lifted the leg off the ground.
Then the other leg.
And finally, the Slayer managed to spin and swirl, getting all three legs off the ground.
The titanic, bulbous Tri droid flailed all three legs wide open as the Slayer slowly wound up, and metal squealed from every hinge. From off to the side, Quinlan and Ventress gaped in horror as the droid spun once before coming up.
Then it came down.
The remaining Death Watch troopers spectating the whole thing fled to the sides as its shadow grew. Except Anakin. He simply shut off the lightsabers and clipped them to his belt.
Anakin only had one thing on his mind: Stop that droid!
Anakin's arms came up, and the Force exploded from his fingertips.
The splayed arm from the other end of the droid flailed down, nearly hitting Anakin square on the head.
Nearly.
There was a blast of air pressure that hit the dust, but no colossal sound of impact, and Anakin could hear gasps and shouts of shock from Quinlan and Ventress. Anakin couldn't blame them; he was holding the gargantuan droid in the air using only the Force, roaring from his hands, quaking his ears and vibrating the air.
Anakin's muscles were flexing as hard as they could. A heavy bellow escaped between his gritted teeth before they parted, and Anakin hoisted the creaking droid by its leg. The ground beneath him buckled into a crater. Then a deeper crater. Anakin heaved up, causing both of the other legs to rise far higher in the air, and at the apex of his heave, Anakin let go. And the lowest part of the 50-foot droid tank was suddenly twenty feet in the air.
The Slayer was at the other end of the midair droid, still latched onto the end of one of the legs. Anakin, seeing this, shot off the ground like a rocket. He began sprinting up the length of one of the droid's straightened legs, reigniting his lightsaber. Once he reached the hub of the droid containing its ball joints, Anakin instantly swiped, severing the leg the Slayer was on. Anakin's drawn-in conduit of gathering power flicked out like a whip, and the severed leg spun away like a leaf in the wind, taking the Slayer with it.
The rest of the droid fell to the earth with a tremendous crash. Anakin had leaped off just before impact, rolling to his feet near another ball joint of the leg. Quickly scanning the area, Anakin spotted the Slayer, closer to the illuminated core ship, raise the enormous mechanical leg he had been sent off with.
Anakin cut through the ball joint of the Tri doid's second leg, then used the Force to lift that in the air too– just in time to connect with the heap of metal the Slayer was swinging down. The clanging contact was deafening, echoing. Anakin snarled with effort and redoubled, smashing his long metal appendage into the Slayer's.
The titanic, heavy swordfight continued. Crashing, powerful impacts rippled through the air as each ponderous piece of metal banged together. Anakin quickly realized that he had more leverage on all parts of the severed mechanical leg due to the Force, which meant he could swing with more power, speed, and accuracy with his leg than the Slayer could. He was strong, to be sure. But his only point of contact was on the very end of his leg.
It wasn't very long before Anakin's droid leg split the Slayer's right in half with an explosion of debris and continued down like an axe splitting a log. It slammed with all possible force into the Slayer, throwing up a geyser of earth.
One second passed, then two. No movement came from the other end of the field.
Anakin took the time this short reprieve gave him to glance around the battlefield. Spotting Ahsoka about a hundred feet away, he blazed over to her side and knelt. Anakin turned her over onto her back. Ahsoka made a soft noise from her lips as this happened, and Anakin's furnace heart began to cool off. She was alive! He still needed to take a look at her wounds, though. Hopefully internal bleeding wasn't a problem. The Halls of Healing could still patch her up in a day or two, but still…
"Anakin!" called a voice from the side, and Anakin turned to see Quinlan hobbling over with the help of Ventress, his hand itching at the bandaged stump of his arm.
"Quinlan," Anakin heavily got out between deep breaths. He turned to glare at his helpmeet. "Ventress. Can't say I'm surprised to see you here. But with him?"
"Never mind that," Quinlan waved aside. "Take Ahsoka and get out of here. The Slayer could have easily killed us, but didn't. I don't know if that's changed, though!"
Anakin grimaced and looked up at the core ship. It was whining eerily, even though from all outside appearances everything was all right. The lights were still on, illuminating the battlefield somewhat. And yet, Anakin had a bad feeling come upon him. Ahsoka had told him Delta Squad was called in for an emergency mission the instant they realized there was a core ship on the surface. So Anakin had a pretty good idea of where they were at this exact moment.
An eruption of metal snapped Anakin's attention back to the present, and to the Slayer's position. The pile of dirt and scrap metal that had been the crater of Anakin's last strike had been blown apart. Pieces rained upon the dusty earth and bounced to a stop. Something arced far above the battlefield and descended in a beautiful J-curve to eventually slam into the earth, blowing up dust and making the assembled Jedi cover their faces. The dust cleared in plenty of time for the three of them to see him.
The Slayer was, of course, unharmed. He was also unmoving.
Before Anakin could rise to meet him a second time, Quinlan Vos shot out his remaining hand. The lightsaber attached to the Slayer's belt, for the second time, zoomed out and smacked into his palm. This time, however, the instant the saber hit his hand, a muffled thump erupted from Quinlan, and his eyes rolled into the back of his head.
Precisely one second later, Quinlan returned to normal. He shook his head. He looked up at the Slayer with shock and awe.
"I see now," Quinlan murmured. "I understand."
The Slayer folded his arms.
"You're not our enemy," Quinlan quietly continued, keeping his gaze firm on the Slayer's opaque visor. "When I touched this, I chose to use psychometry, and I saw this weapon's history. You rescued Nerissa and helped Master Chi, even when he fought against you. You slew the Hutts for their role in his imprisonment. You… have noble intentions with this weapon. Right?"
The Slayer didn't move. Neither did the rest of the Jedi. The slightest wrong move on either part could jeopardize everything.
Quinlan weakly got to his feet. They wobbled. He indicated the weapon in his hand with a thrust of his jaw. "Officially, the Republic has a price on your head for slaying our allies. Even if they were repulsive. But sending our men to apprehend you will only result in more death. You are not fighting against the Republic?"
The Slayer only shook his head no. The audio boiling from his helmet had cooled down to a mere simmer now, a sizzling background noise.
"Neither do you fight against the Separatists?" Asajj Ventress asked.
The Slayer again shook his head no.
Anakin, meanwhile, was tearing his head from the Slayer to Quinlan and Ventress. The urge to fight was still roaring in his entire frame, but the question of who to fight against suddenly was in doubt. Why was Quinlan paired up with Ventress? Why was Quinlan suddenly so accepting of the Slayer? And why wasn't the Slayer himself making any moves on them?
Anakin's eyes drifted to the strange symbol on the Slayer's helmet. Blood red, streaked, and identical to the Mark of the Beast painted with the blood of the Hutts. Just looking at it made Anakin's entire body freeze up. Something sinister and ancient was represented by that symbol.
"Who are you?" Ventress quietly followed up with.
The Slayer paused, as if thinking of a suitable answer. That is, if he could even speak in the first place.
"The Slayer is not your enemy," a synthesized voice finally, calmly, explained from the helmet speakers. "The criminal organizations are. Stay out of our way, and we will stay out of yours."
"You're not actually him speaking," Quinlan stated. He tossed the Slayer's lightsaber back. He caught it without looking.
"Indeed," the synthetic voice confirmed as the Slayer clipped his saber to his side again. "But I speak on behalf of him. The Slayer is grateful for your efforts and your fighting spirit. He never intended on actually killing any of you except Vizsla. You have each proven worthy in his eyes."
Proven worthy? As if Anakin somehow needed to prove himself to this guy? Like he wasn't good enough already? Anakin glowered at the Slayer, and the Slayer merely stared back. With what emotion, Anakin couldn't tell.
The Slayer regarded him further before speaking up again. "Do not fail us, Anakin Skywalker. Once the Slayer has rid the galaxy of the major criminal syndicates, we will come to the Jedi for assistance. We have a request."
As the first troops rounded the corner and came within sight of the bridge, Scorch, lying in wait behind a damaged console, raised his detonator.
When they had surged partially into the bridge, Scorch pressed it.
Thick clouds of flame billowed from the door in concussive blasts that shuddered Boss down to the bones. Once the first round of explosions was over, Boss risked a peek over the pile of scrap he was hiding behind. Bodies and debris, charred and blackened, freshly littered the ground of the bridge.
The troopers that had stayed behind came into view next, formed a wall four men wide, and began unleashing a torrent of yellow blasterfire that sounded like constant bird chirps. The edges of the consoles fragmented and spalled hot metal over Boss' helmet. The sounds of the blasters ricocheting and dinging everywhere filled Boss' ears.
Sev and Scorch were returning fire as best they could, but more troopers easily replaced the fallen ones. The line slowly began to move into the colossal bridge space.
Boss glanced at the windows behind him, showing the blackness of night. Or at least, they would, were it not for the cracks and impacts heavily deforming every square foot of it. This was specially reinforced transparisteel. But with the right push…
Boss fired his blaster on full auto over his cover, and the hot weapon nearly jolted out of his hand a few times. After clearing it for just a second, Boss mentally prepared himself. Then somersaulted from behind cover.
Now in the open, Boss could see that there were about four troopers that hadn't been slain just yet. Two of them turned in his direction. Then bowed down and fired rockets from their jetpacks.
Boss once again rolled, and just in time: the rockets hit the transparisteel just behind him one second after he had rolled out of the way. The blossom from their explosion sent Boss tumbling across the floor, in a very hot push. The heat was soon replaced by a rush of cold wind that sent smaller debris flying and sent the Death Watch trooper's aim askew.
Boss looked up from where he had landed. Fixer was nearby, close enough to see the chips and scrapes on his duraplast alloy armor.
"How much is ready?!" Boss demanded.
"Seventy-one percent!" Fixer replied over the wind and the blasterfire.
"That'll do. Disconnect, and let's get out of here!" Boss ordered.
As Fixer did just that, the nearby Scorch yelled to Boss, "Where? The entrance is blocked!"
Boss simply pointed through the blasted open window.
Scratch's silence before he responded said everything. "...Oh. Oh, I see!"
"Come on!" Boss yelled, and Sev, overhearing it, fired one last salvo at the Mandalorians through the smoke and sparks filling the bridge. Scorch grumbled something and unclipped a flashbang from his belt, then hurled it at the covering Mandalorians. A flurry of sparks accompanied a blast of noise and a wall of white.
It gave Delta Squad the time needed to get to the broken window. Cold wind blasted Boss' face and made him lean on the frame. The curve of the core ship beneath him looked like it was at the bottom of the ocean.
Sev and Fixer fired grappling hooks at the window frame from the bottom of their guns and began to rappel down. Boss and Scorch soon did the same. Yellow blasterfire kept whizzing above their heads.
As Boss dropped below the edge of the bridge, the automated announcer could clearly be heard.
"Launch sequence complete. Thrusters engaged."
Instantly, the rumbling ship began to shudder and quake even more, shaking Boss on his line. It creaked and groaned in the swinging air. Boss hurriedly rappelled down even faster.
The Mandalorians finally peeked their heads over the edge of the blown-out window and looked down. Boss was only ten feet above the quaking surface of the core ship. That was good enough, right?
Boss detached his line and impacted the surface. He rolled onto his side, like a paratrooper, and grabbed ahold of the ship as best he could. The vibrations from the ship rattled him in his armor. Boss looked around. The rest of Delta Squad had followed suit, scattered around Boss and gripping the smooth metal surface for all they were worth.
The ship was gradually ascending, and the downdraft of wind was pushing Boss down as his feet scrambled for purchase on the downward curve of the ship. The deafening roar of the thrusters in the core ship was drowning out all sound, even the comm chatter.
Three Mandalorians used their jetpacks to hover out of the window and impact the core ship's surface. Even in this compromised position, however, Delta Squad still had their guns. Sidearms appeared in their off hand and began hosing the troopers down as they approached. Death Watch responded with blasterfire of their own. The shaking of the ship made aiming impractical, however, so the Mandalorians merely drew closer, nearly skidding down the surface as more troopers soon followed.
Boss got to his hands and knees, suddenly woozy. Already the air seemed to get lighter from the altitude. He got to a crouch and jutted the blade from his wrist, panting and snarling like an animal.
Then a different buzz and rumble overtook the sound of the core ship's engines, and the Mandalorians turned their heads up in alarm, looking past Boss. They began to fire over and past Boss' head, but a barrage of starfighter blasterfire and concussion missiles sailed from behind Boss and impacted the trooper's positions. The resulting explosions and geysers of scrap metal and body parts rumbled beneath everyone's feet, making Boss stumble and turn around in shock.
The SS-54 gunboat hovering upwards, matching the same speed as the core ship, was unlike any gunboat Boss had ever seen. It was decorated with skulls, silver spikes, razor blades, and heavy armor plating. The engines were rotated down and bellowing exhaust to keep pace. It was close enough to see the dents and pockmarks on the side. And the twin bay doors were open wide.
Instantly inferring the implication, Boss crouched and leaped as far as he could into the ship. He got most of his body on the edge and pulled himself up into the gunboat.
The rest of Delta Squad followed as quickly as they could into the gunboat, with Scorch and Boss getting Sev on board with their hands. As soon as this happened, the core ship overtook them and the gunboat slowed down.
Sev was still dangling from the edge of the bay doors, and no matter how much Boss and Scorch yanked, their limbs were sore and couldn't bend up as strong as they could.
Sev managed to flex his body up and get his arms on the edge momentarily. Boss and Scorch were joined by Fixer once this happened, and their combined strength managed to prove successful. One part at a time and amid much heaving and gasping, Sev managed to crawl inside. His waist got onto the deck and he wiggled inside, rolling onto his back. Once this happened, the doors sealed shut.
All was quiet, save for the panting and wheezing of Delta Squad. Their limbs felt full of lead and their lungs full of cement, but each of them were alive and well.
Scorch's hands and legs were shaking involuntarily. After some hyperventilating, Scorch swallowed. "By Malachore," he whispered. His fists clenched, but not all the way. "That was so… fun! Let's never do that again."
"Who sent this ship?" Fixer asked in the open air. "Not that I'm complaining. Just need to know."
The loudspeakers crackled to life. The warm, scholarly voice that came over it was close to that of a droid. "For the moment, please consider me a friend. I have transmitted pickup coordinates to the Guarlara, which I am taking you to now. Remember to get drinks for a job well done, Delta Squad."
The hold was silent as the squad digested that. Boss glanced over at Fixer, whose leg was bouncing on the floor of the hold.
"...What was even on the database?" Sev quietly asked.
Fixer turned to Sev. His hands rested on his thighs to steady them. "Proof, Sev. Proof to delegitimize the Separatist movement."
A thunderous eruption sounded from the core ship, turning Anakin's head. The legs stabilizing the sphere suddenly began to retract into the proper holding spots as the core ship slowly began to rise.
"What?!" Anakin cried, scrambling to his feet.
The Slayer had noticed it too. He turned his eyes up to it, but his stance was still with crossed arms and an expressionless visor, so Anakin couldn't tell what was going on!
"What happens when that ship gets into space?" Quinlan asked Ventress once the ship had risen in altitude enough and it was quiet enough to yell over the noise.
"A Separatist carrier links up with it," Ventress replied, looking up. "Which means it'll signal Separatist forces to rendezvous and attack Mandalore!"
Anakin's jaw set. Wonderful. An interplanetary incident was not on his table for today, but by the Force, he was going to have to make do!
But the Slayer merely held out his hand to keep Anakin back. He turned to look back at the rest of the Force wielders, lingering on them one by one.
Upon meeting Anakin, the Slayer once again nodded. Perhaps respectfully. Anakin couldn't tell.
Then he turned around. With a sonic boom that staggered the assembled Jedi back, the Slayer had zoomed across the surface of the earth, and he was already only a speck on the surface, drawing ever closer to where the core ship had once stood.
"What's he doing?" Anakin demanded, reaching as if to grab the Slayer through the Force.
"If my guess is correct," Quinlan grimly stated, looking up at the core ship high in the sky by now, "we may want to take cover."
Finally, upon reaching the spot where the core ship had once been, the speck in the distance stopped. He remained still for just a moment.
And after some calculations, the miniscule form of the Slayer bent down.
His jump caused a noticeable crater to indent into the surface of Concordia, and it accompanied a circular blast of air that slowly rippled across the earth. A second later, the sound reached them: deafening, cracking, and deep. Anakin, Ventress, and Quinlan raised their hands to block the spray of dust and air that accompanied it.
The Slayer sailed up and up, faster than Anakin could keep track of. His head tilted up, but he couldn't keep track of the Slayer's dark form in the dead of night.
Then the silhouette of the core ship, lit by its thrusters, blossomed into flame.
The Slayer had evidently impacted the bottom of the spherical core ship with a tremendous explosion, which only looked small because of perspective. Knowing the Slayer's suit, it was likely tougher than the military grade armor of the battleship. He could keep going. Most likely into the engine room.
The core ship slowly came to a stop as its momentum evaporated. It hovered in the air for just a second.
Then it came back down again. It roared like a rancor and grew bigger as it descended. Once the size of an apple, now the size of a melon. And it only increased from there.
Anakin, Quinlan, and Ventress cried out in alarm and raised their hands. Force erupted from their hands, coating all of them in a transparent shield.
The titanic core ship struck the earth and crumpled into itself with a fiery, delayed concussive blast, shaking the ground and instantly sending up a cloud of dust a hundred feet high. Anakin, Quinlan, and Ventress were all thrown down. They quickly got their Force shields up again, but by the time this happened, dust had already enveloped them in a firm, black ocean.
For a second, Anakin was back on Geonosis, in a Republic gunship, arm over his eyes to protect them as they sped along in pursuit of Dooku…
Beside him, Ahsoka squirmed into his squatting position, wincing and crying out. The crash must have woken her, but how bad was she doing? Anakin positioned himself more over Ahsoka's body and redoubled the Force erupting from his fingertips, all his energies on keeping Ahsoka safe and sound.
In the swirling dust, the remnants of Death Watch that had been spectating their fight were nowhere to be seen. Anakin didn't care; whether they were in the picture or not, they were going to get off this planet pronto!
The dust storm roared and whipped around the Jedi, stinging Anakin's ears despite the Force bubble pulsing around them. Opening his eyes by a millimeter, Anakin spotted Quinlan right beside him, using his one good trembling arm to shield Ventress.
Despite Ventress being their enemy, Anakin couldn't help but feel a spring of an idea blossom in his mind, seeing the two of them so protective of each other. What had happened in the short span they had worked together?
Finally, the wind and dust settled down a bit. Anakin could now afford to stand up in their Force bubble. With each passing minute, the storm died, and his vision became clearer.
Once the wind had stopped completely, Anakin shot his hands to the side. The pulse of the Force bubble blew the hovering dust away in a short radius from them all. Still, dust particles drifted aimlessly in the air, settling on all assembled.
"Sound off," Quinlan ordered, squinting over the yellow stripe bisecting his face. He shook his dreadlocks, and a cascade of dust poured from them. "Everyone all right?"
"You're not," Ventress scolded, peeking at the stump of his arm.
Anakin turned down once more to Ahsoka, caked with white. She groggily got to her hands and knees, and Anakin began scraping the dust off her. "Snips," he said, remembering that Ahsoka had asked him to call her that. "Snips, you good?"
Ahsoka got onto her butt. Her eyes fluttered open. They drifted to Asajj Ventress. For a second, neither one spoke.
"Well," Ahsoka whispered. "If it isn't the hairless harpy."
Ventress just gave a slick smile. "If it isn't Skywalker's untrained, annoying little pet. This is the first thing you ask upon waking up?"
"I'm just confused, that's all," Ahsoka hissed, poking at her chest where the Slayer had kicked her. "You and Master Vos were looking for him together?"
"Our interests aligned," Ventress coolly replied. "Although now, I'm not so certain. The Slayer said he was not fighting for the Separatists, nor the Republic."
"It's clear that we can't just stop him," Quinlan declared softly. He looked down at the bandaged stump of his arm. "And even if we could, he should be commended instead."
"What do you mean, Master Vos?" Ahsoka queried. She sat up a bit, then hissed again at the pain. "Gah, he really did a number on us."
"We've noticed this before," Quinlan responded. "But he could have easily killed all of us. He held back to draw out the best of us. Not saying I'm grateful that I'm…" He waved his far shorter left arm. "...But it's clear that he eclipses all of us. It would be best if we instead got on his good side. Direct confrontations won't work out well."
"So we're just going to let him go?" Anakin asked, jabbing a finger into the colossal silhouette of the core ship nearby. "I know that he killed the Hutts, and honestly…" He huffed briefly. "...good on him. But we can't let a guy like him out of our sight. He's too powerful, and if the Sith get ahold of him–!"
"We're not saying that. It'll be obvious to see where he goes– just follow the pillars of smoke. All we have to do is stay out of his way."
Quinlan's words made sense, but Anakin was still antsy. This new player in the war was unnaturally strong, despite being unable to use the Force. But how? How? He radiated some kind of aura, of menace and power, invisible to the eye, but distinguishable to the Force and plain intuition. The Huttslayer exuded force in its purest form, yet was impossibly deft and precise in lightsaber combat for someone unable to use the Force.
"I suppose… that just leaves us with the question of what to do with you," Ahsoka finished, looking up at Ventress again.
Ventress' full lips drew thin. "Please enlighten the adults, child."
"You're a Separatist war criminal!" Ahsoka said.
"So are Skywalker and Kenobi for the Separatists," Ventress pointed out.
"But we outnumber you," Ahsoka asserted, getting to her feet. "You have no allies coming here. And you have a long record of atrocities committed against the Republic."
Ventress' eyes flickered to Anakin, then to Quinlan and back to Ahsoka. Put in such an unflattering image clearly didn't sit well with her.
Quinlan had his eyes shut, and his remaining hand was opening and closing. After some snarling, he stepped in front of Ventress and turned to face Ahsoka. "She's not outnumbered."
Ahsoka's eyes bulged. They shot to Anakin for support. Anakin, however, remained stoically silent.
"Ventress helped me track him down and fought alongside me," Quinlan pointed out. "Far as I see it, she's earned a ten minute head start at least."
"B-but Master Vos! She's a wanted criminal! She scarred Anakin!" Ahsoka gestured at Anakin's face. "She's tried to kill me on multiple occasions!"
"But not this occasion, huh?"
Ahsoka sputtered for words before turning to Anakin again. "Skyguy, help me out here!"
Anakin, however, noted something odd in their stances. Quinlan standing his ground for this woman. Ventress' look in her eyes from behind him. It reminded him of something…
Anakin took Ahsoka's lightsaber off his belt and handed it to her. "Snips, contact Captain Rex. Tell him to bring the shuttle back," Anakin ordered.
Ahsoka duly took it. "But Skyguy-!"
Anakin looked down on her.
"...Yes, Master," Ahsoka wearily obliged. She turned and tromped away, pulling out her comlink. "Rex, old boy. Come in."
"Sir! Perfect timing. The Huttslayer's ships have left the system and gone into hyperspace. They didn't even acknowledge that we were here the whole time!"
"Is that so?" Ahsoka asked, drawing further and further away. "Well, then, good on us. We need immediate evac and medical support…"
Anakin turned back to Quinlan and Ventress. All three parties remained silent for a moment.
"...I understand," Anakin finally said to Quinlan. He flickered to Ventress for a second. "How you both feel."
Jedi and assassin turned to each other in incredulity for a second.
"It's all right," Anakin said quietly, holding up a hand. "Trust me. There's a big part of me, telling me to cut you down where you stand, Ventress. But Quinlan's right. You held him off long enough for us to arrive. Quinlan, I don't know what you two have been through in the last few days, but…"
Quinlan nodded. "I get it." He groaned in exasperation. "So now what do we do?"
"We take that head start," Ventress whispered. She turned her head away from the two Jedi. "I can find my ship from here. In exchange for not killing me, I suppose I won't do the same to you two."
"Glad to hear," Anakin dryly replied.
Ventress turned back to Quinlan, and Anakin could see the unsaid emotions flying like sparks between their eyes. Only a few seconds later, and Ventress just sighed. "You weren't kidding when you said drinks on the weekends?"
"That part's up to you," Quinlan easily replied. "Should any more developments occur… You know how to find me."
Ventress swallowed. She nodded. And she turned around hesitantly. She stepped into the darkness and the dust, and Anakin could see Quinlan's gaze on her the entire time. Even as she disappeared, Quinlan's gaze lingered for a few seconds.
Anakin stayed respectfully silent for a few more seconds. Then he clapped him on the back. "Let's get moving."
Quinlan looked to him. A second later, he nodded.
A/N: I'd be tempted to describe this fic as the same energy as a Hollywood blockbuster, if it weren't for the fact that most "blockbusters" are stinkers nowadays. If this story was a Hollywood movie, it would have things like:
-Scorch tagging along with the main cast for no reason, whose humor consists of, "Well, that just happened," "You might want to take a look at this," "Awkwaaaard," "In Basic, please?" "Well that's gonna leave a mark," "They fly now?!" and "Uh, guys?" Bonus points if it's at a tonally inconsistent moment, ruining the tension or the emotion.
-A boring Brave Stoic Lesbian Girlboss bounty hunter walking trope who cannot act, bonus if she is Of Color, taking time away from both the Slayer and SW characters.
-Some black guy doing vaguely comedic black guy things.
-A gender or race swap of a clone trooper that will give executives an excuse to call fans racist and sexist.
-A weepy and effeminate Jedi dork confirmed to be gay by the director in a private interview but never in the actual story. Bonus points if it's an established background character.
-Dwayne 'The Rock' Johnson in Jedi robes, throwing a hydrospanner into the gears of the suspension of disbelief, tone, and pacing.
-Messaging consisting of "Democracy, Down With Fascists, equality, and multiculturalism," pretending that it's new or revolutionary.
-A script written by ChatGPT full of plot holes, lackluster worldbuilding, and minimal characterization.
-The director secretly being a pedophile and funded by a Jewish donor.