((Note this thread is towards a take-over of Mandalore by the Bounty Hunters Guild))



Range, 253.4 meters. Inclination, 19.5 meters. Wind, 3 nautical kilometers per hour, North north east. Trajectory, Alpha Sigma 6.3.

With deft precision the hunter runs down his list of checks. Sure his target would expire 2.3 milliseconds after the trigger clicked over. Mental impulses cross with those physical. A thought transpires into action. A finger applies pressure to a trigger. Mechanisms tick and pure energy lances from the muzzle of the rifle. Coherent light collides with the head of another Senator of a decaying galactic power. Brain matter sizzles and burns...

Alone, an hour would pass before the body was detected. By which time Pike would be long gone, the rifle disposed of and no loose ends leading back to himself.

Out the rear window to a waiting escape ladder. Down the ladder to a waiting speederbike. From there it was a quick skim over the refuse pits of Waki, where the rifle would be lost to time. Then a quick ride through back alley routes to the depot where he kept a small cache of supplies, nothing incriminating and nothing that lead back to Pike. Here, he'd deposit the speeder bike, change clothes and appearance... Then a quick Thermite burn to cover any traces. A short walk from his depot to a waiting taxi and on to a shuttle off planet.

Another perfect kill. Perfect and clean.

~Thought, pressure, click, flash, kill, leave, safety.


Then, some hours later, sitting in the cockpit of his personal ship Beff would think over the kill. Like he had done countless times before the act, he'd check and double check himself. He'd rethink his exit, his preparations...For seemingly endless hours he would recount the kill only to draw the same conclusions he always did. Another Perfect Murder.

Though it was hardly murder. It was work. Work he did better then any single soul in the galaxy. You could rationalize it however you liked. He wouldn't. He just counted the credits and moved on.

Moved on. The next shot. Almost the same as the last, contracts like this had been in the majority of late. Almost as if someone were trying to systematically rid the galaxy of a cancer.

Though, this sort of thing never bothered Pike. Indeed, he would never let such simple things as "good" and "evil" fog his vision. It was simple. Plain and simple.

Just follow the death and credits.

"Beffy, baby. How's my favorite client in the sector. Been too long Beffy, far too long."
"The jobs keep stacking up, all needing the personal touch of the one Beff Pike in the galaxy. Stacking up Beff."
"Big ones, fast ones, and easy ones. I've got hundreds of thousands of credits worth of work here for yah. My main man, my favorite hunter."
"Speaking of credits. Bottu finally payed off that debt, I hope s'okay but I gave his hand back. Poor Zeltropian, he'd already grown a new on, but I he got the idea..."
"So, listen, Beffy, buddy, pal. Get in contact with me on the real quick. The works piling up. It needs your talented hand. There's so much here the wanna-be hunters are making off like bandits. Ten grand jobs are dropping in like rain."
"But I know better'n lowballing you Beff. Nothing below half a million, right? Well, I've got enough contracts here to make you a very rich man... Not that you aren't already, eh Beffy?"
"I made those enquiries you wanted. It's all set up. All I need is your go ahead and everything will get started"
"Grand dreams you got Beffy. A Bounty Hunters Guild? Well, whatever, I just do what you pay me. Am I right Beffy, am I right?"
"Ha Ha. Beffious. The Hunter. Who'd have thought it. Heading up this kind of thing."
"Look, everything is packed and ready to go, everything else is already there or en route. I hope you are... "
"This venture's tapped you out Beffy, as far as I know... And look, I know you got everyone on board and things in full swing, but you gotta get working. You and them. The credits are running thin...Uh..."
"What's this... An Insta' Note? Hmmm... Jussa' sec Beffy."

"Oh. Nevermind then. You're the man and what you say goes. Right. So yeah, this should keep things moving for another couple months, but I still say you and the members have to get working real quick."
"Piles of work waiting for your....Oh wait, there's more on the Insta Note..."

"Riiiight. I'm on the next shuttle out. I'll see you on StarForge within the week..."

The streets of West Forge were littered with the casual shadows common to the artificial lighting of the station. Lonely figures would pass intermittently through the darkened areas, but for the most part, this end of the Station was on down time. This being the habitation area for most of StarForges' personnel.

Small cameras monitored those who came and went in the darkness, both audio and visual tracking abounding across this shadowport. This Haven of 'their kind of scum'. Nothing transpired here, or within the Nebula, that the guild was not aware of. Or that Pike, or Fett was not aware of. Massive capital had been invested in making the station as secure as it could be and to monitor the nebula.

So, it came as no surprise to Beff that he should see a certain Noghri of undiscriminating nature creeping around the streets of West Forge. It also came as no shock to Beff when the Bothan managed to locate its' prey.

With merciless seething, the short hairy figure closed on another hapless figure slouched against a wall. The one which remained slumped against the wall gave no indication of being aware of the Noghri approach...

Throughout the past 24 standard hours the Bothan had been tracking his prey across the station. The furball had managed to slip a little toxin into the drink the figure had enjoyed some hours earlier. The Noghri had managed also to slip a small tracking device under the collar of its' prey, on the off chance he should loose sight of it.

With quiet plotting, the Noghri had moved on the other figure in subtle and subversive ways. Everything had been done according to a plan, a plan that even Beff found impressive. So, now the Noghri was free to make his move... And move, he did.

Within 3 meters of the mark, the Noghri neatly exploded into action. Practiced steps launched the diminutive figure forward, long curving blades seeming to appear of nothing in his hands. Holding them at downward angles, the Noghri hit its' target with deft precision. Razor sharp blades swiftly dispatching the mark with a minimum amount of stress and mess.

As quick as the attack had come, it ended. Spinning on a heel the Noghri had turned to vanish into a shadow... Unfortunately, Beff had been prepared and the poor Noghri ran headlong into a hulking sentry droid, an updated E-9 model. Then, with a voice too human for a droid, it spoke.

"Well done Colphun, well done indeed. Now, if you would be so kind as to follow my droid... We have a few contracts that need your mark."

Some distance away, at the far end of the station, Beff steepled his fingers over his chest and chuckled. Monitors of countless sort and origin lined the walls of his private ante-chamber. From here he could keep a close eye on his various vested interests across the galaxy, as well as remain up to date on events concerning the Guild. It was perhaps the most secure area Beff had ever seen, and even he would be hard pressed to breech the security of this place. To be certain, it was the nerve center of the Guild, and Beff was the controller.

Breaking from his revelry, Beff had to pull himself from his private sanctuary to go welcome yet another skilled member into the Bounty Hunters Guild.

Things were really taking off.

Mandalore.

A small ship slips neatly out of hyperspace, its' arrival masked behind one of the planets moons. Not that there was anyone down below who would care. Mandalore was not the same world it had been years ago. Simply relocating it had been a chore.

Once host to a great galactic force, the Mandalorian Warriors of the ancient past had long since faded from the planet. This was just fine by Beff. The planet was host to much more redeeming features then just its' past.

There was so much promise here. This world would allow the Bounty Hunters Guild to hone itself into a deadly weapon. It would give the Guild so much more freedom. Here they could host Ship Yards, if need be. They could store caches of supplies and wealth. Like no other, it could be the Guilds vault.

Emerging from hiding behind the moon, Beffs' small ship glides easily into a geosyncronis orbit high above the gem that is Mandalore. From here the Hunter begins scanning the surface for any anomalous readings. Just wasting time.

Nothing out of the ordinary was expected, and indeed, nothing unusual was detected. But still, the small ship continued to scan the world below. It was just waiting, after all, for something... more. Waiting for a new arrival.

Some time would pass before the contact would arrive in the system, a delay that could not be helped.

--------------

Occasional blips would sound in the cockpit of the E-wing in which Beff sat, accompanied by corresponding information scrawled across the monitor before him. The auto-pilot making slight course corrections to keep the ships orbit from degrading.

Half asleep in the starfighter, Beff was beginning to tire of waiting. The ship he was expecting was late. Granted, their delay could be explained by the rigors of finding Mandalore, but still Beff grew antsy.

He was about to pull the ship out of orbit just as his expected guest arrived. It was a large and cumbersome transport passing far beyond its' years and begging for retirement. A retirement it would get once it dropped its' load and moved away from the planet.

Reaching over to flick a switch on his comm and cuing up a direct connection with the newly arrived ship, "Al-Kynd, this is your contact speaking. You have your orders. Do please carry them out in short order."

"As ordered," came the reply from the transport, a Sullustan voice on the comm.

With that Beff flipped the switch again and closed the comm channel. The less comm traffic, the better.

Reclining into the seat and crashwebbing with a satisfied smile he watched as the transport began its' slow descent to the planet... Its' final destination.



Some hours later the transport began its ascent up from the planet surface. It had unloaded its' cargo on special orders from the client, Beff, and in short order, left. The whole procedure had taken 2.45 standard hours and Beff had sat in silent orbit the whole time.

Now he watched closely as the ponderous Soro Suub transport faught to clear the planets gravity. Apparently no easy task for the aging ship. Beff was paying close attention to the ship, his small fighter lurking some kilometers above. Everything was moving according to plan.

With a crackle over the comm system, the ships commander signaled Beff that they had done as requested and were awaiting authorization codes for the remainder of their payment. Codes that Beff openly broadcast to the ship. After a brief communique reporting that all was well with the transaction, the captain ordered his ship move off...

Unfortunatly for them, Beff had made other plans.

The cumbersome freighter made it no more then twenty kilometers from its' present location before a massive plume of orange red flame burst out from the rear engine bank of the transport. Shortly after accompanied by yet another explosion, the sabotage Beff had engineerd consumed the ship within moments... Before they even had a chance to cry outrage.

Grinning as the space below him glowed crimson he keyed in the security codes that would retrieve the funds he had temporarily transferred. Then, with easy motions he began the descent to the planets surface, his modified E-wing breaking the atmosphere easily.

Blaster fire and the sound of detonite had filled the air. With blaring explosions brief flashes of orange and red light the night as if it had been day. All around the sounds of war inundated the forest, from the low under brush to the tops of the canopy some hundred meters above. Droids of destruction could be glimpsed among the carnage seeking out their targets.

Among the chaos sat Beff Pike, tucked behind one of the thicker trees, enjoying a rolled niccig seemingly oblivious of the battle raging around him. He had sat with a small squad of elite troops of the first regional infantry. Each of his men clad in full blast armor and equipped with the height of weaponry available at the time.

"Sarge?"

One of his men had spoken, but the words passed right over Beffs' ears as if they had never been spoken. He was determined not to be roused from his moment of peace. After all, this far back from the front (some fifty meters), it was not as if they were in the height of danger.

Seeming to have picked up on this, his men resigned themselves to sitting tight and trying to drown out the chaos surging around them. For a time they sat in silence watching their Sergeant puff idly on his smoke, before one spoke again...

"Sarge, it's getting thick. Shouldn't we move up?"

With a sigh of contempt their sergeant gave a look back towards his men.

"No."

He could never resign himself to new troops, especially blaster jocks like these. They were the type of roughnecks who would rush headlong into battle simply for the thrill of battle. It was indeed a tactic they had been trained for and one that tended to work out for the best... But it was not the way Beff was going to handle this situation. He knew the enemy better then anyone on the field, and likely better then most of the tacticians controlling the battle.

His peace was broken, however, when Gargon (a troubling personality) decided to take the initiave.

"Forget this Sarge, we've got men dying out there," he spoke with a tone of conviction and determination. "If the Sarge won't lead, I will. Come on boys, let's go to war..."

And there had been no point in fighting it. His place here was just a cover, and the job had already been done. With no other intention other then lasting out the battle, Beff had planed to sit tight until the enemy employed their new tactic.

So, he had sat in silence while the men who were sworn to follow his command charged into battle. From fifty meters, they had sprinted at top speed towards the line... And a number of other squadrons followed suit.

The fools.

The entire line managed to drive the droid army back a good twenty meters while Beff watched on. It was more then he would have expected of them. Until he had picked up on their deployment. A trap.

Then, it had happened.

Fire, burning blue-white had fallen like rain from the skies above. It had poured down in torrential floods, soaking the line back twenty meters. The enemy had revealed their new weapon. Phosperite rain.

It had been all Beff could do to tuck himself deeper into the trees roots and watch as droid and human alike burnt like timber. The smell had been the worst one could imagine.

It was the last thing Beff recalled as he awoke from the dream. A memory of events past.

((Sorry about the switch to 1st person. Deal with it :lol ))

Starfighters.
My one true hobby. Work is its' own thing, but collecting and maintaining Starfighters always makes and had always made me feel that warm glow inside. There's nothing like working with your own hands on something you enjoy. Being able to take advantage of the thrills of your own handiwork.

True, I do enjoy my work, and yes, I am a bad person. But when working on my private Starfighters or standing among them in my private hangar, I feel a peace so complete and true.

This is my private haven, more my love then the central nexus chamber aboard StarForge. It is where I come to be alone or with the various droids that keep things in order. I come sometimes just to revel in the opulence of the starfighters assembled here.

To my left sits the K-Wing bomber that cost me so much just to keep, let alone get my hands on. Cumbersome looking in shape, her twin s-foils and lower struts gave her a slightly more streamlined look then the predecessor that sat beside her.

This was the B-Wing bomber, it had long stood as a main support of the Alliance and New Republic. The first concept had come from the Verpine insectoids but the Mon Calamari had taken the design and turned it into something graceful and powerful. Though she tended to be slow in her maneuvers, the Mon Cal had compensated for this by mounting the cockpit at one end of the wing on a swivel mount that could rotate a full 360 degrees. This model was of course, the E-2.

Then comes the finest of the X-Wing line. The XJ3 X-Wing. Widely used throughout the galaxy from the time of the Rebellion, the X-Wing was the most reliable starfighter in the galaxy. The XJ3 doubly so. Here the X-Wing had found her final peace, the climax of the line. It is not among my favorite ships, but still, no one could deny the worth of the galaxies defending workhorse.

Out of a lingering desire for speed, at the back of the arrangement sits an older model A-Wing. Quick and maneuverable, the A-Wing distinctly lacked any offensive weapons, and indeed the same went for shields. However, in the hands of a top pilot, or Jedi, these fighters had become a terrible bane on those who had to fight against them. Mine, modified only for speed.

Last among those ships of the New Republic and earlier the Rebellion, I keep this ship foremost in the line. The E-Wing. This was the pinnacle of starfighter technology. She had been designed to mount heavier defenses then those of the X-Wing and outfly the A-Wing. The earliest models had found a flaw in their offensive capabilities. The three firelinked cannons they mounted used a cheep spun tibana gas. The problem was overcome, however, with the Type B... And mine has been specially modified.

The back wall of my crescent shaped hangar was fully taken up by these five Republic used fighters, they loomed under bright lights with matte black painted hulls and gold edging. From nine meters up to sixteen meters each. Their contrast was seated to my immediate rear, near the hangar diffusion field. Three Imperial TIE starfighters.

First in their rank came the height of the TIE combat line. A deadly black looking TIE Defender, she hangs from repulsor struts that suspend her as if hovering in place. She was the absolute top line TIE combat fighter, easily as maneuverable as an X-Wing and able to preform many of the feats of the A-Wing. Add to this her impressive weaponry and sufficient shields and you had one deadly fighter, especially when in the hands of a TIE pilot.

To her left rests a ship so rare many believe them to be but a myth, something whispered in Imperial halls. Ah, but I have one. Sadly though, she is not in a state of repair that I would prefer, but rather badly damaged and a hazard to fly. It would be some time before my techs could access the damages and begin repairs. The design being so unlike any that have come before...

Like the Phantom that sits at the apex of my TIE trio. Beautiful. This was the height in covert warfare, able to cloak and remain undetected until the moment of strike, the Phantom line had been hard pressed to get off of the design room floor. Though, they had. And thanks to them, I have one.

Now you know my private heaven, and what stills the heart of a Bounty Hunter.

A guest before Beff Pike, President of the Bounty Hunters Guild.
Along long winding hallways and past numerous sectors, they escorted the fellow through Guildstowne. Their route gave more then just a passing idea of the city.

Built around a large central spaceport, the town itself was incorporated into the edges of said spaceport. In fact, the whole place itself seemed like one large installation suited to the purposes of the Guild.
Their route gave a very good idea as to the make up of the planets population, and humans were in the minority.

Here, all member of savage species was welcome, and indeed, they flourished. This was a place with an edge and it turned all but the hardest away.
Bothans and Barabel, Trandoshan and Ssi-Ruu, Chiss... and so many more. A veritable cornucopia of fur, scale, flesh and chitten. Insectoid to reptilian to mammalian and even some avian... and so much more.




It was a large chamber well suited to being Beffs office.

Near the top of the pinnacle tower that rose from the center of Guildstowne, his office had a near panoramic view of the town below. It was a grand room, but not so grand as too seem flamboyant.
It was...comfortably oppressive.

Behind a desk sat Beff, his eyes gazing out the massive window at the town below. His chair was turned away from the entrance, so the guest could only see the back of the chair in which he sat.
Off to his left stood Ka'flyn, his Bothan aid and confidant. A prime example of his species, Ka'flyn moved fluidally to Beffs side and spoke in hushed tones.

Nodding, Ka'flyn gestured towards the guards who had escorted Rev in. As he did they departed quietly.
It was not hard to imagine, however, that despite the auspicious design of the office, it had its defenses.

"What can we do for you, friend?"
The voice came from the chair facing away from Rev.
"Won't you have a seat. Perhaps a drink?"

At that, Ka'flyn moved off to a drinkbar on one side of the office....

A fond Dream for the Future.

From humble beginnings...

There was only so much one could say about the activities of the Bounty Hunters Guild right now... But soon it seemed, there would not be enough words to describe all their activities.

Information. Smuggling and drug running. Weapons and merchant games. Slicers, Bounty Hunters, Mercenaries and Smugglers. The Guild would grow into something so much more involved then just Bounty Hunting.

Some ten thousand people now made their homes aboard StarForge. A station that had been chosen for its relative obscurity. Lost to time, it existed on very few starmaps and had no local population to speak of. So, it had been a prime choice. They would work to bring the station back to full active status.

It would be a struggle, but the smugglers who previously occupied the station eventually left off, or got merged into the Bounty Hunters Guild. Now, it was theirs.

They had searched out a living and established the haven that was now StarFogre. Thanks to those who had come first, the station was now the hub of all Guild activities and its' nexus. Now would it grow able to defend itself?

Through the hard work of Patroit Fett and Beff Pike, the guild had grown beyond its original mandate. Plans had been made on the planet Mandalore and bringing the station back up to spec, but these issues were not yet answered.Though they would be.




"Pike."

The word alone broke me from my momentary lapse.
I'd been gazing out the large central window of my office, just watching Guildstowne below. I could loose time like that. Just watching the machine work.

Turning my gaze from the window looking down on StarForge core, I turned to see my Second. Ka'Flyn. My loyal Bothan right hand.

"The factioning grows worse in the corporate sectors and new warlords seem to be declaring themselves every day." Ka'flyn dropped a few data pads on the desk before me. The most recent updates from abroad.

"I am well aware of the state of the galaxy Mr.Flyn."

I grinned at the Bothan, his slivery tipped fur rippling under my gaze. "Only a joke, my friend."

There is nothing more disconcerting then a Bothan chuckle.
"Very well President. Very well. All the same. The Reports need your approval."

Everyone can have a dream. Even a Bounty Hunter with a vision.

"Thank you kindly for your report Ka'flyn, if there are no questions, shall we move onto more spesfic areas of discussion" The voice came from the rear of the oblong room, and could safely be assumed as the voice of Beff Pike, despite the fact that he sat fully entrenched in darkness.

The various other shapes around the conferance table nodded and mumbled their confirmation.

Normal illumination returned to the room revealing all to the light.
A long narrow room, it seemed the epitomy of elegant, from deep crimson walls to the black oxinite table at its center. It also eluded to an air of impressive omnipresence.

Seated around the table, some ten different shapes with Beff at their apex. Among there number, a Noghri, Trandoshan, Barabel, Bothan, two Humans, two near-Humans, a Shistavanen and a Defel. Each was an officer and member of the guild, and each represented one of the various branches of guild activity. More-over, each was loyal to a fault to both the Guild and its' members.

Returning to his seat, the speaker, a lithe Bothan male, grinned at Beff.

Beff returned the grin, then glanced back at the assembly.
"First things first, Executive Ssshhufsh, if you would... please give us a run down on your dealings in the wild regions."
Rolling a cigarra through his fingers, he turned his gaze from one human to the Noghri. "And if you would be so kind Mr.Colphur, as to fill in any blanks. And vice versa."

The next hours passed without much fan fare. Each of the members seated in conferance took at minimum an hour to detail the activities of his/her command.
Not, of course, that Beff was not already fully aware. These meetings were for Patriot Fett, who watched the meetings from a secret location and only contributed when needed.

That was the nature of Patroit Fett.
Not one member of the guild, save for Beff himself, were allowed contact with the Patriot. So much so that many had come to revere Jorel as some sort of beneficient saint.
Which left Beff to running the Guild.

It had taken months to get here, to this point. I had finally convinced myself, it was time for a break. With all the chaos of recent times, you grow thankful for the momentary peace that galactic accord can leave you. Those lulls in employment that left you free to do some of your own living.

So I had.

Vortex is a peaceful planet, even at those times of galactic upheaval. A pristine place of calm and beauty. A world that had drawn me to it once before, but that trip had ended rather poorly for all considered.

The peoples of this place were a people of art and design, creatures that had given rise to such things as the Cathedral, twice. They knew the value of self, and of others.

The reasons I was here, simple. My last hunt had left me near the planetary system of Vortex, no new employment had made itself evident, and I had a surplus of credits.

Things were good, for now. I had time to relax. The sort of time I only usually get between Jump points.

So, here I was. The Manta Ray parked on the soft grass a hundred paces below the cliff I sat on. Claiming meditation, I found that part of peace that only comes in moments like these.

Fields of blue-green grass shifted in the slight breeze, carrying scents of Kuk wood and fresh growth. Clouds of hazy purple lazed across the sky, unsure of where they wanted to be, or go.

I had left everything behind at the ship, clearly evident on a flat straight below me, so near a river I was sure that she was getting some sorely needed moisture. Quietly sitting in the Lotus, I was clad only a light brown tunic and pants, a belt of various items around my waist and one of my lightsabers sitting in my lap.

I relish the moments of peace, and of thought.

Eyes slipping shut, I closed myself away from the literal world around me, slipping into the Force and finding myself in the Astral... Alone and at ease.