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[Fic] "Calo Dead"


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My name is Nord. Calo Nord, to be exact, which is what you'll never find out if you're stupid enough to try to talk to me. Here's what happens if you do:

 

"One." Some thug Rodian and his pal were trying to strike up a conversation.

 

"One?" hissed the snout-nosed fool. "What is that supposed to mean?"

 

"Two." Some people, and some aliens, just don't know when to shut up.

 

"Why are you counting? Are you trying to figure out how many of us are against you?" laughed the Rodian's sniveling little chum. I pulled a thermal detonator out of my pack.

 

"Three." I placed the detonator on the floor and set it. A flash of white. Good riddance. Even Bendak Starkiller, a kriffing Mandalorian, knows when to keep his mouth shut. He's a duelist and bounty hunter, another "friend" I hate.

 

Now that you know how nicely I play with strangers, I'll tell you how it is.

 

There's this girl, Bastila. She's a Jedi, and not a bad piece of work, if I do say so myself. My job's to hunt her down and bring her to my master, Malak. Lord Malak, he likes to be called, since he's a Sith, but I don't go for titles. I go for action and credits, and Lord Malak has wiped a whole planet off the face of the galaxy. Taris was a cesspit, but, hey, it was home. Bastila escaped...

 

...and how, I hate to tell. Humiliating incident, that was. There should have been no kriffing way I got off Taris alive, but I did through some miracle of physics or science or all that rot. Here's what happened. This spy that Davik Kang, a Taris crime lord, had taken into his compound to "check out" had the honorable mission of stealing Davik's flagship. The Ebon Hawk was a vessel worth the price in bodies and in coin, so I can see why the spy wanted it.

 

I wasn't about to let him have it, though. Him or Bastila, or that Mandalorian.

 

The other Mandalorian, you fool. Not Bendak Starkiller. Heck, I'd never let that armored piece of Hutt slime aboard the Hawk if he paid me a million credits. The Mandalorian I'm talking about was some flunkie of Kang's who somehow flipped over to the other side--the spy's side. Hmph. Traitor.

 

Anyway, Malak and his Sith were starting to blow up the planet, and this spy and his pals, Bastila included, were there to make sure no one got off Taris alive. Not even me. Some rafter beam cold-clocked me in the head and broke my bounty hunter goggles, my collarbone, my nose, my jaw--You get the idea. The spy left me for dead, but Calo Nord doesn't die until he's offed his mark. I don't know how I got off Taris--did Malak rescue me? It's all hazy...

 

The next thing you know, I'm on Tatooine stepping in bantha poodoo. Stupid stuff ruins my boots. I'm also dodging attacks from Sand People and trying not to tick off the Jawas and the Czerka drones trying to farm a profit from all this sand. Why anyone would travel here, let alone the spy I met, is beyond me. All I know is that he's here, and I'm not about to let him and Bastila get away again. I've got a reputation to protect, and a new set of goggles.

 

Oh--he's killed a krayt dragon. Good for him. Now I've got hunting to do.

 

"Good afternoon," says the spy like a fool. Wish I had another detonator.

 

Bastila's with him. Gotta remember to take her alive. Very critical, this part.

 

I hoist my blaster onto my right shoulder and start firing. Good thing it's more like a cannon than a regular bla-AAAST IT! AGGH! UGGH! OWWW! SHEEZ!

 

Good afternoon. My name is Dead. Calo Dead, to be exact, which is what you would've found out if you caught sight of me before my corpse disappeared...

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