Well, this is my first time posting on the SWTOR forums. I'm doing so because I'd like to share with you all a little story I've been writing in my free time for a while. Please, post your thoughts, critiques, opinions, etcetera.

There are no real spoilers for any part of the TOR story, and it takes place during the same period of time as SWTOR.

Chapter One- Bounty on Hutta

It was raining. Not the pure, refreshing kind of rain more common on some of the nicer planets in the system. No, this was the acidic kind of rain that stung open eyes and stained clothes not already dirtied by its’ foul drops. Three men stood grouped together, leaning against a low sandy wall that had clearly seen better days. Each of the men was dressed differently. Two wore simple clothes, coated with dust and dirt. One of the two wore a set of old goggles. The third man wore an armored flightsuit. Dusty and cracked, the old plates of armor over the grayed tight suit weren’t the slightest bit intimidating. The armored man’s face was covered by some sort of spacers’ helmet. A black visor and dirty plasteel armor plating with tubes sprawled between a breath mask of sorts and a backpack situated near the left shoulder. The only exposed skin was a patch between the mask and visor, which showed portions of the nose and cheeks. The skin was tanned, yet covered with grime.

The two plainly dressed men wore blaster pistols on their belts. Nothing fancy. Not the kind you’d see Imperial or Republic soldiers fighting with. These were the kind sold out of the back of a cantina, claiming to be Balmorran quality with imitation leather handles and metal so rusted you’d think it came straight from Raxus Prime. The third man carried something more battle-ready. It wasn’t much of looker either, but it at least seemed like it would be good for more then just shooting pestering rodents.

The two simple men spoke with accents similar to those of moisture farmers, and bore yellow stained teeth. One clearly hadn’t shaved in a long time. The other looked too old to actually care. The armored man spoke calmly, while the farmers spoke frantically and excessively, swearing whenever possible and throwing their arms in desperation to extenuate their predicament.

“I swear, if I ever get my hands on that son of a gundark, he’ll be bleeding for days!” Cried one.

“Please kind sir, ya gotta help us! We ain’t got much to give right now, especially since that thief ran off with two month’s worth of credits!” Exclaimed the other. The armored man, who had until then been leaning with his arms crossed, raised his right hand, silencing their torrent of pleas.

“I don’t work for free. You want your money back? Fine. But I’ll need something in return.” The man said, his breath mask distorting his voice, giving it a robotic sound.

“Damnit, now didn’t we just tell you that we ain’t got a thing to spare!?” Cried the older of the two farmers, clearly growing angrier as the conversation continued.

“Listen man, we just need some help. Get me and my dad back our credits and you can have whatever you want from us. Just please stop that scum, before he leaves Hutta!” The younger one said, clearly trying to make up for his father’s anger.

The armored man sighed.

“Fine. I’ll find your money.”

The armored Bounty Hunter slowly walked through the backstreets of a Huttese slum, stepping over puddles of muddy rainwater. The slum was set in between two huge Hutt compounds, locked out of both. The only open side exited out into a chemical marsh, a desolate wasteland where nothing lived except for the giant predatory beasts, mutated by the excessive exposure to dangerous chemicals that resulted from Huttese adrenal manufacturing.

The Hunter walked cautiously, his right hand never straying from the blaster pistol at his side. While he wasn’t afraid of fighting whatever the slums could throw at him, he still wanted to avoid unnecessary conflict. He looked dented enough already. As the hunter turned a corner, he noticed out of the corner of his eye a man dressed in rags sitting against the wall of a shack made of sheets of aluminum. The hunter nodded at the man, who nodded back, in a sort of greeting meaning that neither meant harm.

The bounty hunter heard a noise coming from a distance away. An angry shout, from a human clearly. The hunter tapped a button on his wrist-mounted datapad. An audio recording played in his helmet. Standing still for a moment, he listened. No, it was certain. This was the man he was looking for. He turned off the datapad and pulled his black visor down, covering his eyes from view of others. He then started walking towards the continued noises in the distance, this time at a faster pace. He didn’t want to lose his prey, for fear of having to spend more time then was needed on this rock of a planet.

The nearer the bounty hunter got to his target, the louder the noises got. Originally, it hadn’t been more then shouting. Now, there were crashes to be heard, along with what sounded like fighting. The hunter approached what passed for a bar in the slum, before the door burst open. A man flew backwards, hitting his back on the opposite wall. Another man stepped out from the entranceway, a pistol in his hand. He quickly shot the man on the ground, before he could get up. All was silent after the loud bang caused by the gun discharging. The hunter stood there, watching the man who he knew was his bounty stand over the dead victim. It took the murderer a few moments to look to his side, where he noticed the armored man. In the time they spent glaring at each other, the hunter slowly drew his pistol, letting it hang by his side. This was more then enough for the thief, who, after a few more moments of silently standing, took off at a dead sprint away from the bounty hunter.

The chase had begun.

Chapter Two- The Chase

The man had run off, and the hunter wasted no time in going after him. The thief was fast, clearly used to this sort of thing. The thief forced the bounty hunter to slow down every once in a while to dodge the occasional overturned piece of garbage or thrown alien. The hunter only had a clear view of his target less then frequently. On these occasions, he would unleash a volley of shots after the thief. These never did any real damage, only grazing shots and near misses.

The chase continued for a few more minutes, until the streets came to a stop. The alley behind him, the hunter now had his target cornered between himself and the chemical marsh. The thief searched for an escape route, and when he couldn’t find one, he turned around, staring the hunter down, both of their weapons drawn. The thief held a battered lockbox in his left hand, and a shoddy hunting pistol in his right. Neither of them said anything. Deciding the time for surrender had passed, the hunter dove to the side, firing three shots until he hit the ground, landing behind a dumpster. Two of the shots missed the thief, and the third struck him in the left arm. He dropped the lockbox in pain, then fired his own gun at the dumpster in anger.

The hunter crouched in cover, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. He waited until the thief had to vent his pistol’s heat, before he popped out of the side, firing at his targets’ legs. He landed two shots in the right thigh. Not enough to do permanent damage, but enough to immobilize. The thief hobbled as fast as he could to the back of the dumpster, in an effort to catch the hunter off-guard. Right when he came into sight, the bounty hunter leaped at him, knocking him off his feat and forcing the gun out of his hand. They tumbled on the ground for a bit, until the bounty hunter positioned himself on top of his target. He blocked a weak punch at his face with his left hand, grabbing the bounty’s arm. Then, he delivered a swift blow to the thief’s temple with the handle of his pistol.

His target knocked out, the hunter reached for a set of electro-cuffs strapped to his belt. He cuffed the thief’s feet together, then got up and walked over to the lockbox that was now on the ground. He picked it up and examined the contents. Mostly a small pile of credits. There was also a spare blaster, but it was small and clearly would only be good as a holdout blaster. The hunter left it. Closing the box, he looked back at his prisoner, wondering what exactly he should do with the thief. The hunter checked something on his datapad, and then nodded reassuringly. He turned off the datapad, and walked over to the thief’s crumpled form. He grabbed him and threw him over his shoulders, and started walking. He knew exactly what he should do.

Chapter Three- Dealing with Hutts

“So you brought in the farmer’s thief, eh? Haha, good, good. I’ve been running low on factory workers.” A large, fat Hutt chuckled as he sat on his lounge. Two twi’leks sat beside him, dressed in dancers outfits. This was Ran’dor, one of the hundreds of Hutts who owned large factories and chemical plants on the surface of Hutta. It was commonplace for bounties posted by the hutts to be used as slave labor in the factories. Usually, the Bounty Hunters who brought said slaves in received a significant bonus for doing so. It was really just a matter of morals.

“Right. How much will you give me for him?” The hunter asked.

“Hmm… How about five hundred credits?” Ran’dor offered.

“Make it seven hundred and you’ve got a deal.” The hunter demanded. He needed a Hyperdrive installed on his ship, and to do so wouldn’t be cheap. He had a large amount of credits saved, but he still needed more to get space worthy. The faster he got off Hutta the better.

“Haha, you’re a hard bargain. Fine. Seven hundred it is. I’ll have the credits transferred to your account. What was the name again?”

“Titus.” Said the hunter.

“Titus the Hunter….. I like that. Sounds fierce. Dangerous.” Said the hutt, before waving a hand, signaling for Titus to leave. The hunter nodded, then turned around, leaving Ran’dor’s palace. Upon exiting to the plains of Hutta, he checked his wrist-datapad. The credits were already transferred to his account. Fantastic. He only needed one or two good bounties until he could leave. So he decided to head for the local spaceport, as most bounties were posted there. Besides, it was only a short walk away from the palace.

Arriving at the spaceport, Titus went straight for a giant neon billboard that had all the bounties posted. It listed five bounties at a time, gave a name of the employer, the target, the pay, and a short description of the bounty. There were twenty-two bounties in total; most of them were either too dangerous or too easy for Titus to make a profit on. After a few minutes of thinking, he chose one that didn’t seem too difficult. A group of bandits were harassing a water treatment plant and needed to be taken care of. The posting had been made by another Hutt, someone by the name of “Fenn’gul.” Didn’t seem like much of a problem.

As Titus contacted the Hutt from his datapad to confirm the job, a group of three people emerged for a hangar door. They had taken what looked like an expensive shuttle to the planet, something fast and comfortable. These three men were all dressed in the most stunning armor Titus had ever seen. Each piece of their handcrafted Mandolorian steel suits gleamed like the sun. The sheer weight of their equipment would have been enough to crush someone as scrawny as Titus, and yet they wore it as if it was a second skin. One was colored red with black trim, the other yellow and white. The third was a black and white camouflage pattern. Tubes stretched all over the armor from various pieces of gear to an assortment of backpacks.

They each carried unique weapons. The red one carried a huge blaster pistol, three times the size of Titus’. He also wore a long vibroblade strapped to his back, with a curved handle that had some kind of bone jutting out of the pummel. The yellow one carried a long blaster rifle, with all kinds of attachments, ranging from a scope, to a laser guide, to a huge bayonet on the underbarrel. The third was truly different. He carried a heavy repeating ballistic chaingun. It looked like it weighed over a hundred pounds, and it had the same type of size as some of those larger blaster cannons he’d seen Imperial troops use before. Ballistics were a tricky thing, often underused and almost forgotten. They weighed a lot more then regular blasters, and were much more expensive due to the use of heavy bullets instead of power cells. Few legitimate military forces used them, since they were less effective against anything besides humanoid targets. They did almost nothing to droids, especially the heavy-armored variety they’d be most needed against. Only Bounty Hunters really used them, and even then, only the most skillful dare would. They were also very popular with trained Jedi Hunters, an elite group of bounty hunters hired and trained by the Empire to find and kill Jedi. Why? Simple. Jedi couldn’t deflect bullets like they could blaster fire. Also, since they weren’t used often, most Jedi had no idea how to combat them. A risky investment, but one that usually paid off for the more successful hunters.

The group of the three men who were undoubtly Bounty Hunters pushed through the crowd. Well, they didn’t really push. Everyone sidestepped them, choosing to stare instead of carrying about their business. Titus was amazed. These three were clearly very wealthy. They stopped near the entrance, one of them choosing to turn around and angrily reprimand the onlookers for wasting time. The leader, the one with the ballistic cannon, turned and noticed Titus standing near the bounty board. He pointed at him, and beckoned him over. Titus obeyed without really thinking.

“You, you look like you’re from here.” The man said, his voice distorted by his heavy helmet. Still, it seemed overly masculine and inhuman. The Bounty Hunter placed his cannon on his back, which stuck magnetically in place. He then reached up and removed his helmet. It came off with a hiss, and he held it under his left arm. Titus gasped. This man was a pureblood Sith. Not as dark of a red as some he’d seen pictures of on the HoloNet, but it was clear. Titus tried to stop looking and showing such emotion. Instead, he approached them, and waited for the Sith to ask his questions. Beside the hunters, they towered over him, their armor adding a good four to five inches over Titus.

“We’re looking for Nem’ro the Hutt. Where’s his palace?” Asked the Sith.

“Close by the spaceport. Follow the road, there are signs on the way.” Titus replied. The Bounty Hunter nodded at him, then puts on his helmet. They walked away, leaving an awed group behind them. Titus got the feeling that he’d be seeing them again.

New Chapter. The pace of the story's going to start picking up from here on out. Think of the first four chapters as a sort of Prologue. I'd appreciate any feedback to help improve the story.

Chapter Four- B7 Kuati Oppressor

The time had finally come. Titus had turned in his bounty, and collected his credits. He’d bought the Hyperdrive, and already hired out someone to install it. He was excited. He hadn’t been in his ship for quite some time. Titus missed his dual fusion-core Hypermatter engines, his two four-barreled turbolaser repeaters, his Nexu-Class proton torpedoes, outlawed on seven Republic planets. He missed his durasteel frigate-grade armor plating, but he especially missed the warm bed of his captain’s quarters.

Titus’s ship had been staying in a Huttese Drydock while it was being repaired and refinished. The mechanic he’d hired was already there, installing the Hyperdrive. Titus was making his way there now, riding a taxi speeder, since the drydock was too dangerous to walk to.

After an hour or so, Titus arrived. He walked in the main door, passing by the group of worn-down spacers playing some kind of dice game against the wall. He walked through the halls until he arrived at his own reserved spot. He entered into the small lobby area, which had a terminal with hangar controls operated by a droid in front of a large glass window.

And beyond that glass window sat Titus’s ship. The Kuati Drive Yards B7 Oppressor. The pride and joy of hundreds of illegal smuggling rings and cartels the galaxy-over. It was Titus’s path to power, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything. Technically a freighter, the Oppressor had more firepower then almost any ship legal in Imperial space that wasn’t military. From an aerial view, the Oppressor was shaped like an upside-down V, with the cargohold, rooms, and anything not found in the cockpit located in a large rectangular shaped hold that rounded into a sharp angled cockpit. One engine was located on both the left and right side of the hold, with the power supply located just inside. The V shaped wings had the turbolasers situated on the ends of them. On the opposite ends of the wings were two stabilizer engines to help control tight turns. The whole thing was painted black, red, and white, preferring style over much functionality.

Titus was excited. It had been far too long since he felt the endless miles of space fall behind him. Either that, or he just hated staying on Hutta for as long as he had. Now that Titus was spaceworthy again, he could finally start his career. No more small time bounties on backwater planets. He was going to hit it big. Become a king of the underworld, and retire young in his own mansion.

But flights of fancy had to wait. Titus could only get so far so fast. He thought ahead about what he needed to do in order to start making some real money. He couldn’t do it all by himself. He needed some help. He’d heard about companies that would hire Bounty Hunters new to the business and help them get contracts bigger and better then they’d be able to find on their own. This seemed like a good idea to him.

As Titus entered the ship, he powered on the lights. The recessed overhead lighting flickered on, and a droid plugged into a small pod powered up, its eyes turning on. It stepped out of the pod, the cord falling to the ground. It was about as tall as Titus was and had minimal armor plating, and a skeletal body type resembling a human. It was colored black, and had red eyes and what would pass as teeth set into its skull-like head. This was a new addition; something the mechanic had thrown in since he had a spare.

“Hello, master! I am B7-A4, Kuati Drive Yards onboard protocol droid! I am programmed in over three hundred thousand languages, and am capable of all forms of maintenance, ranging from ship repairs like engine calibration, weapon calibration, cleaning, and computer programming, to tasks benefiting you! I can prepare meals, freshen your air, maintain your hygiene, offer advice on your appearance, and even hold a long personal conversation about your political beliefs!” The droid said without prompt, as it stepped towards its new master. A4 did a quick biometric scan of Titus, cataloging as much information as it could.

“Right. So you’re my assistant?” Titus asked, looking over the droid. He flicked its shoulder, checking its balance. It glanced at its shoulder, and then gave Titus a quizzical look, that passed after a moment.

“Correct, sir! Think of me as your secretary. I’ll manage all of your accounts and other expenses, and can pilot the ship in your absence. I cannot, however, offer you combat support, as my programming restrains me from harming any form of life. So despite how much I might want to, I cannot join you in battle.” It said, it’s voice turning to that of disappointment towards the end of its response.

“Good to know.”

“May I ask your name, master?”

“Titus. I’m a Bounty Hunter.”

“Ah yes. Wonderful! Welcome aboard the Oppressor, Master Titus. How may I be of service?” A4 asked, putting his hands together. The droid’s voice was a combination over-enthusiastic and almost sarcastic. Titus took a chip out of his wrist-datapad and handed it to the droid.

“Here’s my personal datapad. I’d like you to get yourself situated with it. Also, upload my astrogation charts to the star map, and my personal accounts to one of the terminals in the cockpit. Also, set up my HoloNet messages on a separate terminal. Thanks A4.” Titus gave his commands.

“Right away Master Titus. I look forward to a long career with you!” It said, before walking away to do as it was told. Its movement was fluid, once again reminiscent of a human’s body.

The first thing Titus wanted to do was get a good nights’ sleep, so he made his way to his captain’s quarters. The room was small and dimly lit, with a few shelves on each side and a safe. His bed was set against the wall, and wasn’t what you could call “lavish.” But it suited him. He tapped a few buttons on a panel set on the wall, before he took of his suit of armor. He wore a small, skintight suit underneath that had some skin exposed, for body temperature reasons. Having set an alarm, he turned the lights off and got in bed. After a few moments, he fell asleep. As he slept, A4 took the liberty of launching the Oppressor into orbit, to let it drift in space outside Hutta.

Another chapter. Again, I'd appreciate some feedback on how I'm doing.

Chapter Five- The Neon City

When Titus awoke, his first thought was that of concerned curiosity. Where was he? How had he gotten here? It was only after a moment of thought that he remembered he was on his ship. He heaved a sigh of relief, before donning a simple tunic with a set of leggings and some soft boots. The majority of the time, Titus dressed in only his armor, but occasionally he’d allow himself the luxury of comfort.

After a quick breakfast, Titus walked over to the cockpit and turned on all the lights and terminals. The star map flickered on, illuminating the room with a three-dimensional map of the known galaxy. The map was interactive, allowing Titus to move it around, zoom in, or plot his destination. It came standard in all Kuati ships.

At that moment, B7-A4 walked into the cockpit, rubbing the top of its head.

“Good morning, Master Titus. I trust you slept well?” He asked. Titus nodded in response, before he started looking over the star map. He thought. He could do the typical thing and make his start on the Imperial Capital of Dromound Kaas. But that was dark, wet and stormy. No, Titus didn’t have much of a wish to go to Dromound Kaas. He thought of other places where hunters might make a living. One stuck out in his mind.

The Neon City. The world that never slept. Nar Shaddaa.

“Master, you’ve been standing there for quite some time. Is something wrong?” The droid said, interrupting Titus from his thoughts. He glanced at the droid who stood by a terminal, it’s hands clasped.

“No, no I’m alright. Say, what do you think of Nar Shaddaa?” Titus asked as he zoomed in on the planet on the map. Its model floated there, rotating slowly. Some information of the planet was listed beside it.

“Nar Shaddaa….. I suppose it depends on what you’re intending to do. Someone of your profession would find the Smuggler’s Moon to be a bountiful harvest of credits. However, I’d have to advise you stay away from the lower levels. Much more dangerous to explore down there.” A4 said as he walked over to the galaxy map. He spun the planet with his hands, as if he was curious as to what would happen.

“Right…. I plan on going there. Find us a place to dock.” Titus said, plotting a course to Nar Shaddaa. The ship lurched forward as it jumped to hyperspace.

It wasn’t long before they arrived. A4 had found a cheap docking port just outside the Promenade. They landed shortly after arriving in orbit. As they flew by, Titus peered out the window. Was there even any actual land to this place? Or was the whole thing just a floating mass of towering structures? The sheer scope of the planet was mind-blowing. For someone who’d spent too much time on Hutta, Nar Shaddaa was a little too much.

They docked, and Titus quickly climbed into his flightsuit-like armor. A4 looked over him.

“I hope you don’t plan on attempting to impress a rich Hutt.” The droid said, noticing the various cracks and dents in Titus’s armoring.

“I don’t, thank you very much A4. Keep watch over the ship. I’ll keep in touch if anything comes up.” Titus said, before he slipped on his helmet. The air inside smelled of Hutta. A bad memory.

Titus exited the ship, following the path out into the Promenade. His first view was that of a giant Golden Hutt statue. It wore what looked like a bell on its head. Odd. He walked around the Promenade for a while, stopping to look at the advertisements that interested him. There was one company that caught his eye. They were called the Grey Cartel, and had their headquarters in their own private tower outside the Promenade. He did a HoloNet search and found out that they were stationed all over Imperial space. A large group. He was interested.

“A4, book me a meeting with a representative of the Grey Cartel.” Titus said into his holocom.

“Right away master. One moment.” Came the response. A minute passed.

“You’re meeting is scheduled in an hour at the Grey Bastion, floor 27.” A4 told him.

“Great, thanks.” Titus responded.

“Hello, master! I am B7-A4, Kuati Drive Yards onboard protocol droid! I am programmed in over three hundred thousand languages, and am capable of all forms of maintenance, ranging from ship repairs like engine calibration, weapon calibration, cleaning, and computer programming, to tasks benefiting you! I can prepare meals, freshen your air, maintain your hygiene, offer advice on your appearance, and even hold a long personal conversation about your political beliefs!” The droid said without prompt, as it stepped towards its new master.

Ha! That's so something 2V-R8 would be doing if the writers had thought of it.

Came here by way of the writers' wrant thread, actually, having seen you post there. I like it! The absence of paragraph breaks in dialogue sequences is a little hard to follow, but I do like the content. I'm especially enjoying visualizing Titus's poor beat-up gear kit.

Ha! That's so something 2V-R8 would be doing if the writers had thought of it.

 

Came here by way of the writers' wrant thread, actually, having seen you post there. I like it! The absence of paragraph breaks in dialogue sequences is a little hard to follow, but I do like the content. I'm especially enjoying visualizing Titus's poor beat-up gear kit.

Thanks for the feedback!

What do you mean when you say "absence of paragraph breaks?"

What do you mean when you say "absence of paragraph breaks?"

I think bright' is talking specifically about dialogue sequences, where:

“Right. So you’re my assistant?” Titus asked, looking over the droid. He flicked its shoulder, checking its balance. It glanced at its shoulder, and then gave Titus a quizzical look, that passed after a moment.

“Correct, sir! Think of me as your secretary. I’ll manage all of your accounts and other expenses, and can pilot the ship in your absence. I cannot, however, offer you combat support, as my programming restrains me from harming any form of life. So despite how much I might want to, I cannot join you in battle.” It said, it’s voice turning to that of disappointment towards the end of its response.

“Good to know.”

should look more like:

“Right. So you’re my assistant?” Titus asked, looking over the droid. He flicked its shoulder, checking its balance. It glanced at its shoulder, and then gave Titus a quizzical look, that passed after a moment.

 

“Correct, sir! Think of me as your secretary. I’ll manage all of your accounts and other expenses, and can pilot the ship in your absence. I cannot, however, offer you combat support, as my programming restrains me from harming any form of life. So despite how much I might want to, I cannot join you in battle.” It said, it’s voice turning to that of disappointment towards the end of its response.

 

“Good to know.”

An extra 'gap' between different speakers much like that of different paragraphs. It helps distinguish dialogues and makes for an easier read. It looks like you start a new line when there's dialogue, so all it needs is that extra press of the 'enter' key.

I enjoyed the read. You provide an entertaining description of actions and paint a picture of the protagonist's surroundings. The narrative exposition had feeling, meaning that despite being third-person, it's sprinkled with emotion and evaluation of the events taking place. Plus, the content is delivered in digestible portions, making it a quick but enjoyable read. Keep it up.

What do you mean when you say "absence of paragraph breaks?"

An extra 'gap' between different speakers much like that of different paragraphs. It helps distinguish dialogues and makes for an easier read. It looks like you start a new line when there's dialogue, so all it needs is that extra press of the 'enter' key.

What Osetto said.

Another chapter. This one's pretty lengthy. A lot of dialogue. I promise we'll see some action soon.

Chapter Six- The Grey Cartel

Titus arrived at the Grey Bastion ten minutes before his appointment. His taxi touched down in a huge hangar, set into the side of the tower. On his way in, Titus had noticed a few things that made him curious. AA guns mounted on pivots set into the tower at regular intervals. Numerous hangars scattered around, that, upon inspection, revealed scores of oddly shaped fighters. Walkways wrapping around the tower with numerous patrolling sentries. Titus thought he saw some lightsabers amongst the patrols. This place was not a business building. This was a fortress. Titus thought of the things that implicated.

Titus stepped into the huge main atrium that a hallway led to. A large square room with vaulted ceilings that seemed to be miles high. On each end of the room were giant statues made of stone, resembling a man with his hands held as fists beside him, dressed in flowing robes. Titus noticed a lightsaber on the statue’s belt. Hanging from the statues at about navel level were flowing grey flags with red trim. The symbol in the middle of the flag was a black fractured ring with red flames in the middle. What was this place?

The Bounty Hunter walked over to a desk, with a young human female sitting behind a terminal.

“I’m here to meet a representative.” Titus said to the woman.

“Name?” She asked, not bothering to look up from her terminal.

“Titus.”

“You’re to be meeting with Lieutenant Isaac in room 372.” The woman responded, glancing up at Titus.

“Thank you.” Titus walked away from the desk. Lieutenant? Did he manage to get himself involved in some kind of private military? His curiosity was piqued, and that propelled his footsteps. It was only then that he realized he had no idea where he was going.

Titus stepped into room 372, taking his armored pilot’s helmet off. The room was a small, yet comfortable office space, with a grey fur rug that looked artificial, with two sofa chairs set in the corner. This was set against a large window, facing the galaxy famous Club Naga, with it’s blinding neon features. A desk close to the back wall was manned by a protocol droid. The droid wasn’t very unique, like B7-A4, but was instead one of the millions of generic, silver plated droid used by anyone of little importance. The droid pushed a button, and a side door slid open.

“Come in.” Called a voice from within. It was masculine, and human. Titus walked in, holding his helmet in his left arm. Sitting at a desk in the room was a large-built man, wearing a grey Imperial Officer-style uniform with red trim. His office had another large window, facing Club Naga. He also had a painting on the wall, of the planet Alderaan.

“Welcome Titus. I am Lieutenant Isaac of the Grey Cartel. Have a seat.” Isaac pointed at a metal chair with a pillow built into the seat. Titus sat down, putting his helmet on the floor. Isaac looked over him, seeming to grunt with disgust.

“Your armor is in…. unseemly condition. That is one thing we’ll fix if you join our ranks. But I bet you want an explanation first.” Isaac asked, raising an eyebrow. Titus nodded.

“Indeed.” He responded curtly.

“Well, what we do is a little muddy and often times misconstrued. A lot of people believe we’re like the Hutt Cartel in that we partake in illegal acts and criminal wars. That’s not true. We are a mercenary contracting company and bounty collection board. The word “Cartel” was added to the company’s name by its creator and owner, Yymir the Grey. Simply put, we help private parties solve their private matters. Each of our mercenaries operates individually on most contracts. However, occasionally work will require multiple beings be put together to achieve a goal. I assure you, this will not be an unpleasant experience.”

This kind of talk continued on for quiet some time, Isaac listing off monetary benefits to working under the Grey Cartel, what the Cartel would provide for its workers and what it would not, what its laws were, the command structure, and other small, unimportant factoids. Titus remained silent throughout the majority of this.

“One thing I will tell you is that when you come here, you leave your allegiances and other affiliations aside. We employ both Sith and Jedi here, along with people located within any faction. We do not discriminate against anyone’s previous or current occupations. That being said, neither will you. Nor will anyone else you meet here. Leave your fights outside, for we have no place for them. Is this understood, Titus?” Isaac asked. The first time he’d actually seemed to really talk to the Hunter.

“Yes, Lieutenant.” Titus replied.

“Good. I’ll have my droid send you your contract and other legalities. Thank you for your time, you’ll be notified when we need you.” Isaac said, standing up from his desk. Titus did as well, and they shook hands in the middle of the room before Titus departed.

As Titus found his way into the atrium once again, he received an alert from A4, telling him to go the Bastion’s armory. He consulted a map, then made his way to the armory. Upon entering, he was astounded by the array of arms and armor. Suits of Bounty Hunter armor was mounted to one wall, while a set of grey Sith robes hung off a mannequin. He also noted several styles of Echani fighter armor. Sitting in glass cases were selections of blasters, rifles, blades, knives, cannons, lightsaber hilts, and some of the most unconventional pieces of equipment he’d ever seen. The whole place was an array of the most spectacular killing and protecting devices in Nar Shadaa.

A man stood behind a counter, dressed in a full suit of armored Jedi robes. He was polishing a small double-bladed lightsaber. Titus approached, and the Jedi looked up.

“First Rank Hunter Titus. I am Arms Master Diagon Ult. I’ve been told you needed a new set of gear?” The Jedi questioned, putting down the saber. Titus nodded. The Jedi nodded, and then went into a room at the back. He came back with a droid behind him, the machine carrying a folded up set of armor. Titus looked it over. He couldn’t see exactly how it looked, but he noticed it was grey and red, and was in much better condition then Titus’s own armor. The droid handed the suit to Titus, who held it in his arms, marveling at its weight. It was both heavy, yet light. Light for its size. The Jedi motioned to another room.

“Try it on.”

Titus came out of the room in a suit of armor that looked the part. The undersuit was a tight black material, which had the pieces of armor mounted on top of it. This included a grey breastplate with red trim, gauntlets, legplates, boots, a belt, bracers, and a piece of armor centered on the waist. All of these pieces bore the same color scheme. On the right shoulderplate was the symbol of the Grey Cartel, the black circle with the red flames. The armor was of a simple design, nothing two fancy. However, it was functional, and came with a few pieces of equipment that only a Hunter would use. The right gauntlet had a flamethrower set into it, which got fuel from a backpack. The left gauntlet had a magnetic towcable that could also be fitted with a piercing spearhead that came included. The cable was black and hidden within the gauntlet as a secret tool. Upon clicking the heels together, blades would stick out of the sides of the boots, useful in a hand-to-hand fight. Also set into the boots were two small jumpjets. They wouldn’t be used for prolonged flight, but for mobility. In a pinch, the backpack could be burst open, spewing the fuel behind the armor’s user.

Titus looked over the armor as he stepped out. It felt good on him. He hadn’t felt real armor before, since he’d only had his broken flightsuit-armor.

“Whadaya think?” Asked the Jedi, looking over the armor himself. He seemed to smile.

“I like it. A lot.” Titus replied, feeling the weight of it as he moved his arms. The Jedi reached underneath the counter, and held up a Bounty Hunter’s helmet. It was a simple styled helmet, grey with red trim like usual. Set into the middle was a red Mandalorian style T visor. Not an exact T, more angular. But it was undoubtedly in Mandalorian style. The Jedi handed the helm to Titus, who looked it over before putting it on. The visor was black from within. Titus ripped the data chip from his old armor’s vambraces, and put in a slot at the back of the helm.

The inside of the helmet flicked on with a HUD. The visor didn’t have a color from within, nor did it seem to limit his vision. A small icon of a person showed up in the lower left corner, with individual sections outlined and colored green. This was his vitals, and the color would change based on his armor’s condition. A robotic voice crackled through the holocom set at ear level.

“Hello master! My readings indicate you’ve received a new set of equipment! I’m already working diligently to move all of your data between your old suit, your new suit, and the Oppressor. I can help you familiarize yourself with the armor upon your return. Also, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s a retractable echani gauntlet-blade in the right hand. Simply punch to activate. Good bye master!”

The voice came to a stop, and Titus tested out the retractable blade. He punched the air, feeling the knife blade jump forward. Lethal. He then fired the towcable against the wall, feeling it stick, and become tight. He then detached it, watching it fly back into his gauntlet. This whole suit was amazing to him.

“Glad you like it.” Diagon Ult said, waving Titus away. Titus nodded, then left the vault of equipment.

Okay, really short chapter, just so I can move on to something different. Gonna go through and edit the spacing, as was suggested.

Chapter Seven- Yymir the Grey

Titus stepped into the Bastion’s atrium, his boots clanging against the metal floor. He leaned against a wall, turning on the suit’s wrist-datapad. He looked over his personal mail, reading some of the confirmation emails that the Grey Cartel had sent him. He read the contract, and signed it, sending it to Lieutenant Isaac. It was then that he heard a noise coming from the main hallway. A lot of footsteps, and some yelling.

Moving to get a better look, Titus peered down the hall, seeing a group of bodies walking. Two tall men dressed in black Sith robes were in front of a man. They were walking quickly. Another pair of guards came into view as the party got closer. Titus moved from his view, waiting for the people to pass to get a better look.

As the group entered the room, everyone else seemed to come to attention. The guards entered first, carrying electrostaves in their right hands. Then followed the man behind them. This person was dressed in an elaborate set of flowing grey robes that covered most of his body. His face was covered by a shadow due to the fact he was wearing his hood up. Every time the man took a step, Titus could hear the metallic sounds of battle armor. The man was probably wearing it underneath his robes.

The robed man wasn’t very tall, but he was well built. Muscular, as far as Titus could tell. He seemed to have an aura about him that demanded the respect of others. The man’s belt was an armored weave of cloth and some kind of metal, and an oddly shaped lightsaber hung from the left side. The hilt was thin and long, but curved towards the bottom. A section of glass showed the saber’s crystal suspended by the machinery within. The crystal was a deep violet, like that of the Uuskus flower, native to Naboo.

Everything that this man wore seemed expensive, as if it had all been handmade specifically for him. He walked like he held control over everyone in the room, yet he kept himself shadowy, saving his identity for those who mattered enough to see it. The man and his guards passed Titus and exited down a different hallway, everyone standing and watching until their footsteps died away. There was something strange about that man.

Titus stopped a woman as she walked by.

“Who was that man who just walked past?” He asked, his voice being distorted by the helmet. The woman turned and looked at him. Titus realized he towered over her.

“That was the leader of the Grey Cartel, Lord Yymir the Grey.” She responded.

“Why’s he called that?”

“What, Lord?”

“No, ‘The Grey.’”

“Because, before creating the Cartel, he was a master of the Jedi. He then left the Order and joined the Sith, becoming a Lord of the Sith. Apparently he decided to leave them too, and founded his own organization. He’s obsessed with the color Grey, and the idea of neutrality that it represents. Or so the stories say.” The woman responded, before she walked away.

Lord of the Sith, and Master Jedi? Clearly this person was in touch with the Force, if what that woman had said was true. Titus got the feeling it was true. He also got the feeling that he’d see that Grey Jedi again. Much like the bounty hunters from Hutta.

Well, I'm back from my super long hiatus of writer's block (For which I apologize,) and I come bearing a new chapter! This one is probably my favorite so far, and has a good dose of action and intrigue.

Chapter Eight- New Acquaintances, New Adversaries

Three Months have Passed since the Events on Nar Shaddaa

Deep in the barren reaches of space, a lone space station drifted along, it’s engines broken and its hull dented, scraped, and burned. The hangar doors had been shut. No ships had made contact with the station for quite a long time. There were no planets nearby. No bright and shining stars close by. No belts of space rocks. There was nothing save cold, dead, empty space.

“I don’t like it.” Titus muttered as he approached the cockpit’s window of the Oppressor.

“Why not, sir? There are no living things nearby, what’s not to like?” B7-A4 responded as he walked up to the bounty hunter.

“Something’s not right here. I don’t know why I’d be sent here if it wasn’t dangerous. I don’t like it. It’s too…… Empty.” Titus muttered to himself. He then turned to A4.

“Run some scans as we pull in. See what’s what.” He said. The droid nodded. A moment passed.

“Scans indicate that this is indeed the Titan-VI Mining station. Logs indicate that it fell out of orbit of Titan-VI approximately seven and a half months ago. A scan of the subsystems indicate that engines, weapons, and fuel storage are offline and that all escape pods have been jettisoned. The main reactor is still live and active. And strangely still supplying power. Hangars are offline, though a hack of the cameras shows a frigate docked in Hangar 3B. Communications have been jammed.” A4 spoke as if he had known these things forever. Titus nodded, his hands stroking his chin, which was scruffy and untrimmed. He hadn’t had time to shave since he joined the Grey Cartel.

“That’s… Not normal. Most mining stations disable all of their systems after they’re no longer needed. And strip it of anything useful. This entire thing is against standard.” Titus thought out loud.

“Master if I may, that fact that hangars are offline, yet a frigate has docked is also against standards. I’d also point out that the frigate is a model introduced five months ago.” A4 chimed in. Titus nodded. After a moment, he turned.

“I suppose we have little choice either way. The Cartel said my partner would be waiting for me within. See if you can find some place to dock. I’ll be suiting up.”

“Yes, Master.”

The heavy metal doors slid open with a hiss of air. As the doors closed, the hunter in the armored suit stepped out. He lifted a finger to his ear.

“A4, you there?”

“Coming in loud and clear master. I’m uploading the station’s map to your HUD now. You should probably kno-“ A4’s transmission ended abruptly in static, then another voice came into Titus’ ear without warrant.

“Hunter Titus? This is Agent Vecelia of the Grey Cartel. I’ve been assigned to assist you on this mission.” A woman’s voice came through.

“Who are you? Where are you? How did you know I was here? How did you access the comlink?”

“There will be time for questions when we meet. For know you must know that you’re in a lot of danger. They already know you’re here.”

“Who’s ‘they?’”

“The Black Sun.”

“Why are they here?”

“Questions later. For now, you need to get out. Tell your droid to send your ship to orbit. I’m transmitting a map of the station to your datapad. A squad is coming for you. I’m aware you want to stay and fight. Don’t lose your tactical advantage. They need to be unsure of your skills. Right now you need to hide. There’s a storage unit nearby. Go there. Wait inside.”

Titus was unsure what to think. Was this woman telling the truth? Should he trust her? She knew who he was, and who sent him. And he didn’t have reason to distrust her. At least not yet. He told A4 to leave the station and head into orbit, staying nearby. He then accessed the station’s map from his wrist datapad. He located the storage unit, and started running there at a brisk pace.

He reached the door, realizing it was locked. He heard noises coming from far down the hallway. Metal footsteps. Titus searched for the lock mechanism on the heavy steel doors. Finding it, he fumbled with the keypad. It was a digital pad with a code. Realizing that he’d never guess the pass, and that the footsteps were getting closer, he stepped back, and then delivered a swift right punch to the terminal. The blade shot out, stabbing the device and scrambling the electronics. The terminal sizzled for a few moments, and then the door unlocked.

Titus stepped inside, and shut the door. And in perfect time too. The footsteps passed right as the door closed. He heard voices speaking in a different language as they passed by. Titus heaved a sigh of relief, then turned around to look around.

The storage unit was a room full of lockers of mining equipment. The suits of mining armor had been stolen, but there were still fusion torches and plasma cutters resting in storage compartments. There was also a collection of strange saw-type tools and jackhammers. Titus reached down and pocketed a plasma cutter impulsively. He felt like he might need it later.

“Classily done, Titus.” Vecelia’s voice cam over the com-channel.

“I suppose now you want some answers?” She said.

“That can wait until we meet. Which we need to do. What’s your position?” Titus responded.

“I’m currently located in a supply closet near the Emergency Armory.” She said. Titus checked the map. The Armory was on the complete other end of the ship, close to an auxiliary reactor.

“Alright, I’d best be on my way then.”

“Indeed. You should try and find a new weapon from one of the Black Sun gang members. That Bantha blaster of yours won’t cut it against the arms that the Black Sun is sure to have.” And with that, Vecelia’s voice cut out.

Titus nodded to himself, stepping over towards the door. He pushed it open, and stepped out into the hallway. He looked down to left, then to the right. Coming out from a corner at the far right was the group of men he’d narrowly escaped from earlier.

“****.” He muttered to himself, stepping out further into the hall, revealing himself completely. Before the group of three men could react, Titus lifted his wrist and shot the towcable. The piercing point stabbed one of the men, a Rodian, in the shoulder. He screeched in pain as Titus pulled him off his feet towards him. When the Rodian got within a few feet of the hunter, He punched him square in the chest. He fell backwards as the cable retracted into Titus’ wrist.

As the Rodian lay sprawled on the ground, Titus jumped towards it, stomping its chest with his heavy boot. As the alien cowered in pain, Titus shot it in the eye, killing it immediately. By this time the other two had drawn their weapons and started running towards Titus. One carried a crude vibroblade, the other an expensive looking Repeater Rifle. The one with the gun fired a volley at Titus, who tried to duck out of the way of the shots.

A stray bolt struck Titus’ foot, draining his shields by 15%. He stood up and fired some shots of his own. One hit the blade-wielder in the chest, but he seemed unphased. The other shots missed either adversary. The enemy carrying the blade, who was a Trandosian, reached Titus, swinging the sword at his neck. Titus ducked the swing and unleashed a torrent of flames at the Trando’s legs.

The alien’s heavy cotton pants quickly ignited. It screamed in anguish, feverishly batting at its legs in an attempt to put the fire out. Titus took advantage of this, using the opportunity to disable the alien’s hands with his pistol. It was then that he took a second volley in the arm. The shots were absorbed, but his shield dropped down to 10% capacity. A red light was flashing inside the helmet, adding to the mayhem. Titus resolved to be more careful with an adversary carrying a ranged weapon.

As the Trandosian finally extinguished the fire, Titus released another burst at it, igniting its whole body. The alien dropped to the ground, flailing to put flames out. Titus left him there, then moved on to the other. The third enemy had been firing inaccurate shots at Titus, not wanting to wound his Trandosian ally. When Titus turned, another volley was shot. He dodged these, then fired his own. Two bolts hit the human enemy, who fired more of his own shots.

Titus took a bolt in the head, draining the shields completely. Worried, Titus used his jumpjets to dart forward and punch the in the head. He took the retractable blade in the temple, and collapsed to the ground, spilling blood all over the floor. Titus turned to the Trandosian, still lying on the floor, and cut its throat with its own vibroblade.

To the victor go the spoils, and Titus scooped up the repeater from the ground and examined it. Deciding to keep it, he attached it to the back of his armor, with allowed a section to become magnetized and held the rifle in place. Three corpses behind him, Titus moved on deeper into the station.