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12.22.2012 , 11:10 PM | #3
2 - Claim to Fame
Ch 1 bounty hunter spoilers; I have them in spoiler tags but they do make the second part make more sense

"Where's my armor?" Skari asked Crae as he hefted his bag and slung his sniper rifle across his lean, muscled back.


"What do you mean 'gone'? That was high quality sh*t!"

He shrugged. "Cut to pieces and put through an incinerator."

Skari's eyes narrowed. "Cut to...what kind of damn vibroknife do you use???"

He chuckled, the smile on his light brown face evil. "One that's good at taking things...and people...apart."

"Got an extra cloak or something in there?" she asked, eyeing the bag.

"Nope." He didn't seem at all concerned that she was wearing just a bit more than a typical dancer.

She scowled at him, "Guess I should be glad I still have my boots."

"Guess so." His slanted gold eyes twinkled in the faint light.

Skari shivered briefly in the chilly polluted air as they stepped out of the building, but quickly warmed up as they started walking, keeping her head high. Her face still throbbed. The bleeding had stopped, but the cuts Crae had made were going to need more treatment.

She glanced over at Crae from time to time. His hard profile was difficult to read. "I've heard some messed up stories..."

Crae shrugged, "People talk."

"So is any of it true?"

His lips quirked into half a grin, "Probably."

Skari's face twisted in disgust. "You know, I've killed a lot of people, but if even half of what I've heard is true, you'd make a damn Sith proud."

"I save my best work for people who hurt my family," he said with a sideways glance at her.

Skari swung around into his path, her scowl ferocious. "You want a shot at me, take it, but either we work together or we don't. Got it?"

"I gave you my word," he said mildly, one hand on the knife tied to his leg.

"You sure? Cause we can f**king do this."

"You could probably take me in a straight fight, sweetheart, even in that outfit. Besides," he said with a mocking grin, "I like you."

"What a line of nerfsh*t." She started walking again.

"I heard one of those stories from a group of guys I used to do jobs for," she finally said after a few minutes, "Did you really set a dozen of their people on fire?"

"Just four of them."

"Why the hell would you do something like that?!?"

He smiled, "How'd you think I found you?"

Thoughts of how stupid she was being bringing someone like this back with her, trusting him in any way, kept most of the catcalls and whistles that followed them from being too irritating. The more obnoxious ones usually went quiet at the sight of Skari's blasters, but the drunk with the small group of armored mercs drinking in the open area in front of one of the smaller cantinas was not so easily put off.

"Damn, now that's how blue should be done!"

Skari glared at the tall obnoxious young human who was pointing at her with his tankard. One of his compatriots was seated next to him, shaking his head and laughing. The other, seated back farther under the shadowed overhang, was silent and still. She lifted her blasters into ready stance as they passed, tired of the day. Crae glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, his expression curious.

"Come on over here, honey, I'll show you how to use a real blas..." The drunk abruptly swore as his drink exploded in his hand. Skari raised an eyebrow, her blaster still hot from the blast.

The other young man burst into laughter, nearly falling off his seat as he pointed at his dumbfounded comrade who was staring at Skari's militant stance. The drunk whistled while he shook his hand, "Now that's my kind of woman!"

The man in the back stood, assessing her, and Skari looked straight back at him, noting the beskar armor he wore. The Mandalorian had seen quite a bit of action to judge by the blaster scars that covered half his face and extended below his collar.

The two young men's eyes got very wide. The older man nodded his head in respect. "I am Tranto Jarinda. Please ignore the besom. Kaysh mirsh solus." He glared at the drunk as he walked towards her. He rolled his gaze from her booted feet to her head, his eyes appreciative, but his tone respectful. "Tion'ad hukaat'kama? This aruetii?" he asked, looking over at Crae dismissively.

Skari snorted, "Not him, that's for sure."

He nodded, humor apparent as he took in her situation. "Copaani gaan?"

Skari started to shake her head and then chuckled. "You don't happen to have an extra set of armor on you do you?"

"I'd give you my own, but it wouldn't fit," Jarinda said with a grin, taking the opportunity to openly admire her, "Perhaps..." He pointed at his pack and the semi-sober one of the two brought it over. The Mandalorian looked through and pulled out a beautiful embroidered tunic. Jewel-like red and blue designs were sewn into the gleaming white fabric.

"It's beautiful," Skari said, afraid to even touch the tunic as dirty as she was, "I can't take this."

"My sister will be no worse for lack of a gift when I return," he said, handing it to her firmly.

"Vor entye," Skari said sincerely, "I will have it cleaned and return it to you." She pulled it over her head, straightening the beautiful fabric which fell to her knees. "Don't think I've worn something this pretty in a long time," she said with a slight grin.

"Elek, come to my camp, mesh'la," Jarinda said with a sly smile as he looked at her, "perhaps we will find something to hunt." He walked back to his table and sat down, lifting his drink in a salute.

Skari blushed and turned to see Crae lifting his eyes. "What are you looking at?" she growled at him.

"Seems I'm not the only one people talk about. Mesh'la."

"Shut up, Crae."

aren't you a little short for a stormtrooper?
Fan Fiction: My Name is Solomon Crae The Man in the Box