Rand whirled a second too late; and had what happened next not been timed so perfectly, his lapse of instinct might have cost him. Fortunately, Rand did not entertain 'could-bes'. He didn't believe in the Force. At least, he didn't believe that it had a will or a destiny for everyone. But he did...
Cuustad was caught off guard; but he had not become the Warlord of Metalorn by cowering behind droids. The kick sent him reeling, left an ache in his jaw that spread like a shockwave through the bones and muscles of his face. Then adrenaline kicked in and he felt nothing but the rush for battle...
Rand sometimes wondered if the Force actively hated him.
It was a reasonable assumption to come to, given everything he had seen and been through. Father killed by his uncle. Uncle steals his family throne. Decades wasted in a desert on a godforsaken planet in the Outer Rim. He was sorely...
Rand heaved a sigh. Alive. He didn't think she'd up and croak on him, but there were so many droids... So many, and he had not nearly been quick enough. They'd been lucky.
"His name is Cuustad?" he spoke into his comlink, because honestly with all the trouble they were having, he had at least...
Static.
Song wasn't answering, and Rand couldn't tell if that was because she was in the middle of fighting, dead, or the comms were just getting worse. The signal shouldn't be this bad on-world, but there was no point debating it with himself now. He needed to get to the beacon and get it...
The tower was swarming with droids by the time Rand dispatched the remaining B1 and made it to the lift. Fortunately, he didn't think any Scorpenek droids could fit inside; but there were worse. Droidekas, B2 supers, commando droids. Rand kept his blaster primed in case he had a welcoming party...
Rand stood across the street from the large tower the signal was coming from, staring down at what used to be a subway access tunnel. From the looks of things, this part of the city had been heavily shelled sometime early in the fighting; and while there was likely tunnel collapses further in...
Rand listened to Song's plan while he knelt down to examine the damage dealt to the Scorpeneks. He reached inside one of them, locating their internal comlink, and then tapped a few buttons on his wrist gauntlet. "No objections here," he said as he stepped away from the scrap metal. "I'll deal...
Rand took the compliment in stride. Under his helmet, his eyes were trained on the newcomer. Kraaz, he was called. He was skeptical about the continued existence of Death Watch, moreso about the need of them. But he was just a bounty hunter. Not one to question Mandalore's tactics. "There was no...
The momentary distraction provided by the new arrival gave Rand just enough time to fit himself into the crane and release its cargo. Some of the smaller crates bounced harmlessly off the two droids' shields, but the larger one punctured them the same way a nail might a balloon. And once other...
Of course Clan Wren was in orbit. They were always in orbit and not down here where they were needed. What was the use of an army of Mandalorians if they were just going to sit on a ship at the edge of the atmosphere? Rand bit his tongue. It wasn't his place to question Song. She was a Rally...
Rand grumbled.
Song was somewhat more 'progressive' as a Mandalorian. Accepting of droids. Diplomacy. A lot of things that didn't use her fists. Which was probably why she was responsible for all the scrap metal on Raxus or any other number of junkyard worlds. Even so, he followed her lead. It...
Of course they had been shot down.
Why wouldn't they? Rand got the impression that Song had spent most of her time with a particularly reckless Mandalorian, because whenever she went on missions, things inevitably blew up. Bigger and bigger each time. First, it was a few angry mobs trying to...
Rand had grown uncomfortable with these types of meanings since his uncle killed his father and exiled him. He had come at Song's request, not really knowing what he was going to say. He supposed it made sense she'd invite him. He represented the old leadership of Clan Wren. The true leadership...
Rand stood attentively as the Hutt outlined their mission. Years ago, he would have laughed at the cliché: a Mandalorian bounty hunter serving a Hutt crime lord. But that was the nature of his exile. His uncle had exiled him to take the throne, and despite Song's best wishes, he was still just a...
She didn't get it. They never did. Beskar weapons were forbidden because they could cut through beskar, a feat not even lightsabers could accomplish. The existence of that blade was as much a threat to her as it was to him. It was a threat to every Mandalorian. And she proved it by using the...
Rand thought to grumble at how easily and often these two Mandalorians disregarded the easier option in front of them. But, once again, that was likely a consequence of his very undiplomatic mindset. He had spent most of his adult life in the uncompromising wastes of Tatooine, working for one...
Rand found the talk of a public forum... exhausting, to say the least. But, then again, he wasn't a politician or a particularly good speaker. He had promised to stay out of those matters, so he kept his mouth shut. He had to admire the absurdity of their situation. They were still on the...
Mysha's words held the crowd back like a thin rope and Rand could feel the strands fraying with each passing moment of tense silence. He still held his side of the mob at gunpoint. He had warned her—warned them both—he was not a diplomat. He was a bounty hunter, and he was not being paid enough...
It was too late.
Perhaps it had always been. Rand wasn't sure whether their presence lit the fire, or if it had already been lit before they landed, but once he recognized it, he knew they couldn't stop it. He saw the exact moment the mood in the crowd shifted. After Mysha's suggestion that...