[u][b][b]Collab between Chev and webboysurf 
Vorax
Guiding Light
Mandalorian Space[/b][/b][/u]

“Wake him up.”

Vorax was quite suddenly brought back to consciousness as he felt an armored fist impact the side of his face. His eyes shot open and he let out a loud hiss of pain. He looked to his right and saw the unwelcome sight of a massive grinning hutt holding his customized double barrel blaster pistol. “Obadah. What a surprise.” Vorax said in a deadpan voice. “Be careful with that blaster, it’s custom made.”

The hutt stared down at the trandoshan and his sadistic grin grew wider. “I think I will have your head mounted on the wall in my palace. If you wish, I can place it next to my throne at all times. Or better yet, perhaps I can blast your legs off before we leave the ship.” Torro let out a mechanical sounding chuckle. “If you blast off the captain’s legs, You and I will find out first hand if hutts can regrow their tails.”

The hutt turned his attention to the wookiee and pointed the blaster directly at his head. “You are in no position to make such a threat.”

Torro simply smiled at Obadah. “You’d be surprised what I used to do for a living before I joined the Silver Fangs and Captain Vorax. You wouldn’t be the first hutt I’ve gone up against.” The wookiee said with a smile that brought a chill to Vorax’s bones. He knew what Torro used to do and right now wasn’t the time for it to be brought out into the open. 

“So Slug, You’ve captured Vorax Tezar, the Bane of the Hutts. What do you plan to do now? Show off your prize? Follow through on that ripping off limbs idea?” The hutt let out a booming laugh. “Little lizard, while you and your crew were unconscious I came up with a punishment that will suit your disobedience.”

The hutt leaned closer to Vorax until Vorax could smell his breath which nearly caused the trandoshan to vomit. “I know you sent the non-combatants away. Even now I have slicers at work retrieving the data on their hyperspace routes. I will find them, bring them to hutta and have them executed in front of you. And then, little lizard, we will see how much pain you can endure.”

A loud, guttural humming sound resonated through the Guiding Light. It was a sound known far too well by those who flew the cold emptiness of space: the ship's generators powering down. All lights in the ship blew out, leaving only the sparse emergency lights to provide any source of glow. With a deafening silence present… The sound of a single blaster bolt rang through the mostly empty corridors.

Over whatever radio signal Obadah's men were using, a voice rang out. [Color=00aeef]”Sorry about that… must have cut the wrong wire… You should probably send someone down to fix that. Your last mechanic…”[/color] The voice paused for but a moment. The sound of another blaster bolt filled the silence. [Color=00aeef]”He didn't make it.”[/color]

Vorax and Torro looked at one another in confusion as the lights went out. As far as they knew, all the survivors were on the bridge with them. Obadah on the other hand let out a loud roar of fury as he looked at his eight remaining mercenaries and pointed towards the corridor that led to the engine room. “Get down there and kill whatever or whoever you find!” He shouted at four of the mercenaries who grabbed their blaster rifles and ran down the corridor. “The rest of you, make sure your blasters are pointed down that corridor at all times.”

The hutt turned and looked at Vorax and Torro and the rest of the surviving bridge crew and narrowed his eyes. “Do not think this will save you, little lizard. I don't know what you are up to but it will not work.”

Vorax let out a hissing chuckle. “I’m in the dark as much as you are, Obadah. I have no idea what’s going on but it’s pissing you off so I’m all for it.”
[hr]

In the enclosed, dark corridors leading to the engines, the mercenaries filed in two by two. They stuck themselves back to back, heads on swivels as they desperately checked around each corner carefully. Down one of the narrow passages, one of the mercenaries stopped dead in their tracks. Lying face down in the middle of the hallway was a single mercenary lying limp. The pairing that discovered the body moved over towards the corpse quickly, one checking for a pulse while the other stood guard with blaster aimed down the hall. The body was still a little warm, and the two quickly rolled the body over onto its back. Clear blaster burns scorched the corpse’s torso armor, and magnetically attached to its front was a small detonation pack. As the body moved, small red lights on the device rapidly beeped to life. The explosion radius wasn’t particularly large, but it was enough to send the two mercenaries flying back. They were dead before they hit the ground. The last two mercenaries sent to investigate came rushing over, blasters primed and at the ready. The three very charred corpses were enough to send the two into full panic, as they turned their heads rapidly to search for any sign of the intruder that caused this disturbance.

One of the mercenaries, a Duros, turned his gaze upwards momentarily in his panic, looking back down the hall. But something made him stop in his tracks, frozen in fear. The other mercenary took a moment to catch on to his partner’s panic, realizing something was wrong. The two were panting in the dark, deathgrips on their blaster carbines. Finally, the Duros screamed and lifted the blaster up towards the ceiling, where the Clone Commando was clinging to the ceiling. Several blaster bolts flew at the armored figure, who took this opportunity to drop onto the Duros mercenary. Blaster bolts pinged off the Beskar, bouncing off and shooting sparks in the surrounding walls. A loose tube of gas was ruptured, clogging the area with a bit of opaque smoke. Crossfire had managed to wrestle the blaster carbine from the Duros merc, pinning him down with his body weight as he slammed the butt of the blaster into the mercenary’s head several times. It lacked finesse, but a kill was a kill. The other mercenary, blinded and coughing, began running away from the scene, firing blaster shots behind him. He fumbled for his communicator with his free hand, but seemed unable to hold on to it as it slipped from his grasp. It fell down into the grate flooring, but the hutt’s thug didn’t have time to stop and search for it. A primal desire for survival overrode every other base instinct. It wasn’t quite enough, though. Crossfire’s whipcord fired out from the darkness, wrapping around the mercenary’s foot. The helpless gun-for-hire fell on his face, losing grip of his blaster. He reached for it, only to suddenly be pulled back into the dark red smoke behind him. The sound of dragging and screaming gave way to a single gross squelching sound, as the soldier drove the vibroblade embedded in his vambrace under the mercenary’s collar. Silence once again filled the majority of the Guiding Light.
[hr]

Vorax let out a small chuckle as he heard the sound of blaster fire and a small explosion down the dark corridor. Obadah on the other hand was shaking from fear. “Report!” The Hutt bellowed fearfully with a small touch of anger into his communicator. Of course, there was no answer. The Hutt looked at his last four mercenaries and motioned them down the corridor. Three of them obeyed the order while one of them looked as if he would rather take his chances with Obadah. The Hutt pointed Vorax’s blaster pistol at the mercenaries head and motioned again for him to move forward which the mercenary cautiously did.

Vorax and Torro both smiled fang filled smiles at Obadah. “What’s the matter, slug? Afraid of the dark?” Vorax asked ominously. Obadah stared at the Trandoshan and then slowly turned his gaze back towards the darkened corridor.

The corridor was pitch black, even the emergency lights seemed to be nonfunctional as the mercenaries began to move slowly down the hall. One switched on a headlamp, and a single beam of light pierced through the inky black. Dust particles filled the space, dancing in front of the light as it didn't do much to fill the space, instead only showing a patch of wall or flooring as the mercenary carefully scanned the environment from the front of the pack. The light shone up, facing down the hall, and briefly illuminated a single figure in blue armor. The second the light illuminated the figure, the mercenaries started opening fire. Crossfire winced at the sudden light as it disrupted his night vision, and recoiled as several blaster bolts hit his armor and knocked him back a step. He quickly moved into the nearest doorway, pressing himself up as flat as he could in the small alcove, as blaster bolts continued raining in his direction. He blinked away the white spots as he grabbed the blaster rifle from his back.

The hallway was filled with intermittent red glows from blaster fire and the golden light of a single headlamp. The trained soldier sighed and steeled himself, cursing the cocky attitude that forced his back against the wall. But this was nothing compared to the hell his brothers had put him through. The aim of the mercenaries was sloppy, and their formation weak. He could work with that. Crossfire plucked a single grenade from his belt, pressed in the activation trigger, and tossed it blindly down the hall. He counted out the seconds.

[Color=00aeef]”Three… two… one.”[/color]

[B][i]BANG![/i][/b]

As soon as he heard the explosion, Crossfire pivoted around his impromptu cover and fell to one knee, lifting his rifle. Using the flash of light from the explosion, Crossfire fired off two quick shots into the closest mercenaries. He tapped his vambrace quickly, switching to thermal vision. He aimed his rifle at the two glowing figures left standing. With a couple shots each, they were down before their wits were even about them. Though, the one at the rear still seemed alive and breathing, desperately trying to drag his injured form back towards the bridge. Crossfire slowly walked up and fired a single shot in the back of the merc’s head. He then turned his gaze back up towards the hallway.

[Color=00aeef]”This is your last chance to beg for mercy, Hutt. If you apologize, you will hardly feel your death.”[/color]

Obadah reeked of fear as the last of his mercenaries were killed. He stared at Vorax and Torro and back towards the hallway and the armored blue figure. He briefly looked down at Vorax’s blaster in hand and pointed it towards the darkened hallway. Vorax couldn’t help but notice Obadah’s hand was shaking violently and he smiled. He knew he could possibly be next on this guy’s list after the Hutt but at this point he didn’t care. He had liberated countless slaves from the Hutts and had been a thorn in their sides for years. If this was his time to die, he could die content.

“I’d be lying if I said it was a pleasure knowing you, Obadah.” The trandoshan said with a faint toothy smile. The Hutt stared at him for a moment before deciding on a course of action Vorax knew was coming. The slug decided to turn and run, perhaps hoping whoever had slaughtered his mercenaries would kill Vorax and Torro and the remaining bridge crew and give him enough time to get away. “Typical.” Vorax hissed. Torro nodded in agreement.

The two looked at the approaching armored figure. The hands and legs of the bridge crew were still bound and Vorax had a feeling that they weren’t exactly high on the kill list. Obadah was clearly the one the figure was interested in.

The matter was over rather quickly. There was no spectacle, no further one-liners or tricks. As Obadah attempted to slither away, Crossfire simply opened fire. Several blaster bolts riddled the Hutt, before the slug slumped motionless. Crossfire's approach was measured, as he took a quick scan of the room. He did linger on the prisoners, but kept marching towards the corpse. Once there, Crossfire's motions were quick and simple. He moved the corpse around like the carcass of an animal, and cut its tongue out like he was simply taking a trophy. He secured his prize in a compartment on the side of his Jetpack, before turning finally towards the prisoners. he scanned the expressions and body language as he approached, before finally settling on Vorax. He wiped the blood coating the blade sticking out of his vambrace before quickly using it to cut free the Trandoshan's restraints. It was only then that he spoke again. [Color=00aeef]”Are you the captain of this ship?”[/color]

Vorax watched as Obadah’s tongue was taken, most likely as a trophy and let out a hiss of relief as his restraints were cut. “I am. My name is Vorax Tezar, Commander of the Silver Fangs and Bane of the Hutts. My thanks to you for killing Obadah, I only wish I could have shot him a few times myself.” He grabbed his modified blaster pistol Obadah had dropped and put it back in his holster. He motioned at his wookiee first mate. “This is my second in command, Torro.”

Crossfire nodded, his expression hidden behind his helmet. He stood rather stiff at this point, arms crossed as he appraised the situation. After a moment, he spoke up again. [Color=00aeef]”I can put some calls out to get a ship out here and lift this ship back to Mandalore, since I doubt this ship is flyable in its current condition. But you and your crew will have to deal with the… cleanup.”[/color] Crossfire motioned towards the fresh corpse of the Hutt. He then looked back towards Vorax and Torro. [Color=00aeef]”Before all of that, I'm also going to need an explanation why your ship dragged a Hutt into Mandalorian territory. I'm not ungrateful for the opportunity to put my training to use, but I am going to need details for my report.”[/color]

Vorax nodded in understanding. “We’ll space the Hutt as soon as we can. The Silver Fangs were an anti-slavery based organization operating out of Hutt space for the last year at most. We were attacked by Obadah the Hutt as we were preparing to leave Hutt space, we lost most of our space forces and most of our personnel while trying to escape.”

Vorax pointed at Obadah’s corpse. “What we didn’t know was that Obadah had managed to board the ship before we went into hyperspace. He used slicers to take control of certain systems and he and his mercenaries managed to knock us out with stun grenades and that’s when you came in. We were heading to Mandalorian space since it’s well known you and your people don’t care for Hutts.” The trandoshan paused for a moment. “Pretty much every galactic faction we know of considers us pirates but we are not. Everyone in the Silver Fangs is expected to pull their weight but in return they are protected and fed until they are able to find a place to call their home. Four ships full of civilians were sent ahead into your space earlier so they would be safe until the battle was over. If you want, I can try to get in contact with them and inform them the danger is over.”

Crossfire once again paused to consider this information. The mention of being pirates caused him to lower his hands to rest on the two DC-17s Pistols on his belt. After a moment of reflection, Crossfire simply shook his head. [Color=00aeef]”The rest of your crew can clean up. You can come with me and make some calls to who you need to. I'll contact my CO and report that the situation is handled.”[/color] He turned on his heels, and began walking towards the dark hallway, reaching up to his helmet to turn on a small headlamp. They had a bit of a hike to make it back to the airlock.

Vorax turned and instructed Torro and the remaining crew members to get a cargo loader and space Obadah’s corpse. He turned and followed after Crossfire. He was hoping he would be able to get in communication with the refugee ships. He knew it would take a while to repair the Guiding Light and get in contact with his remaining forces. He didn’t bother Crossfire with pointless questions or small talk but he was interested in learning more about Mandalorian culture.

Crossfire remained silent on the way back, moving with purpose in each step. Once they reached the airlock, he quickly tapped a button on his vambrace. The hatch between the ships opened, and the Mandalorian was through before it was finished opening. He motioned for Vorax to follow as he climbed a ramp on the left of the rear hold, moving swiftly up towards the cockpit. He took the pilot’s seat, tapping a few buttons on his controls. As the ship’s systems roared back to life, he plucked a spare headset that was gathering dust on its mount and plugged it into the co-pilot’s console, holding it out to Vorax as he finished bringing the ship back online. [color=0aeef]”I only have it set up for audio… if your ships are in Mandalorian space, you should be able to reach them. I’m going to step into the command room, make a call to my Captain and report in.”[/color] He stood back up and began to walk towards the exit of the cockpit, pausing momentarily in the doorway. [color=00aeef]”Don’t mark up my console, while you’re at it. I just had it polished.”[/color] He opened the door into the command room, stepped through, and closed it behind him.

Vorax nodded his understanding and began to input a series of commands. For a few moments there was nothing but static, but after a few moments the static began to clear up. [i]“-ilver fang vessel Hound’s Charge. I repeat: Please Identify yourself.[/i] Vorax smiled in relief, the non-combatants had managed to reach Mandalorian space. “This is Captain Vorax. Security authorization: Zero, Seven Beta.”

[i]“Captain! We feared you were among the dead. [/i]

“There were a few moments I thought I [i]was[/i] going to die.” Vorax replied with a hissing chuckle. “I need a status report on all remaining silver fang vessels.”

[i]“All four vessels with the non-combatants are safe. We’ve managed to meet up with the other surviving combat vessels. Five in total. Most of them are pretty beat up. The Hutts did a real number on them.”[/i]

“You have new orders. All vessels are to regroup at Mandalore. From there we will decide the future of the Silver Fangs.”

[i]“Aye Captain.”[/i]