Deadly Competition

[Trenton Vinh]

Jonathan Rohaeus stood on the viewing deck of his Yacht. The wall-sized viewing port was filled with the sight of a dying star.

Tolanar VI would soon supernova, wiping out the pair of gas giants orbiting it. Over the course of a billion years, the gasses would condense into a new planet, or star.
The constant exchange of energy, the only form of immortality Jon believed in.

In his hand he held a remote device. When his finger tapped the button, a dull thump came from the underbelly of his ship.
A small pod, containing the ashes of his fiancee, his old wingman Tom, his mother and his father, launched forward, beginning its short journey into the depths of the star.

An ancient Corellian ceremony; a private funeral. The only funeral Jon could really allow himself to have for them. The only way he could let them go forever.

"Now all my friends are gone." He said quietly, as the tiny pod disappeared into the star, as it thrashed about in its death dance.

Aeolan was wandering the stars, somewhere. Jon had not heard from him in a long while.
His military career, now over. He had left on good terms, and his time in CorSec was a thing of the past.

He was too young to retire. A Corellian to the bone, Jon knew he would find some way to keep himself busy. He would rest when he was dead.

The engines thrummed, and the ship began to move backwards.
Jon remained where he was as the autopilot took over, his eyes did not leave the star before him.

"I guess its a bit of a late goodbye, you've all been dead for a few years now. Over a decade..."
He paused, for a moment he could not think of what to say. He had to lay them to rest. He had dwelt upon his past for too long.
Today he would start living again, because none of those that died would have wanted him to dwell.

"You will live forever among the stars, my friends. Forever drifting through the cosmos. Death is the only way to live forever. Immortality lies in death. Goodbye, my friends."

The star now quite a distance away, Jon watched in a detached silence as the star soundlessly erupted into a supernova. The windows polarized to keep him from going blind, but he did not blink.
The star shrank back in upon itself, dragging the gas giants with it, pulling them into the black hole the dying sun had formed.
Then the gasses spat back out, slowing to a drifting halt in the vacuum.

Jon stared into the now dark patch of space, lips tight.
He swallowed, and nodded.

He returned to the pilot's chair on the bridge, dropping into it without care. He turned his ship around, and accelerated into the blackness of space. His mind blanker than usual.

Odd. he contemplated, I spent so much of my life dwelling on the past, I forgot to find an actual purpose. I had become so obsessed with my own previous life, that I forgot how to live.

His ship entered hyperspace, as a billion stars stretched into blue lines before his eyes.

I need to enjoy the time I have left, however short that time may be...

[Trenton Vinh]

The bustling cantina, The Dusty Shuttle in Coruscant's middle levels was blasting music that could be heard down the street.

The electronic beat- that sounded similar to a low-frequency blaster bolt being warped by effects- pounded Jon's eardrums from half a block away. He smiled, the music served to do one of two things. Mask the noises coming from within, and to block out the sound of speeders and shuttles soaring by outside.

Jon checked his chrono, taking note that he had plenty of time on his hands. He smirked; he had nowhere to be, checking his chrono was just an old habit he had to shed. He wasn't in the military anymore.

Vortex Squadron had gone on to become an elite group in the Military Spec-Ops by the time he had stepped down as Commander, they didn't need him anymore. The new Commander was just as efficient as Jon, but less fun to drink with.

Jon entered the dim cantina and squinted while his eyes adjusted. He strode past a pair of Mon Cals with neon body markings, got eyed by a burly Twi'Lek male and his Trandoshan buddy, and locked eyes with a Twi'Lek dancing girl for a moment.
He sidled into a seat at the bar, ordering a Durindfire from the Rodian bartender.

*****

A fat fingered appendage pointed at one of the fifteen video monitors ahead of him, all showing a different camera angle of the bar.

"Da bu bo! Nu cha ateema!" The hutt cried out in his throaty gargle. That's the one! Place your bets now!"

Behind the hutt sat an array of rich criminals and spice lords. At his word they all began waving credchips and yelling bets, while a trio of burly bodyguards waited by the door.

*****

"Hey, slughead, keep your paws away from my drink, I don't want you to get any slime in it!"
"You lost 400 credits to the slot droids in ONE hour?"
"You gonna pay for that drink, Wookiee?"

Jon took in the sounds of the hundreds of voices, all underscored by the repetitive but catchy beat that filled the room and much of the surrounding area.

Tossing back the phosphorescent drink that was placed in front of him, Jon noticed the bartender make eye contact with him as he slid a free shot across the bar, a napkin tucked underneath it. The bartender's eyes dropped to the napkin before back up to Jon, an obvious hint.
Nodding his thanks, Jon threw back the shot and lifted the napkin, pretending to wipe his mouth. He noticed three words on the napkin in barely discernable ink.

Upstairs, V.I.P. Suite

Jon frowned, he didn't know anyone who would be V.I.P. status in the bar, or anyone at all that frequented the bar.

He shrugged, figuring fate had found its way to give him an adventure once again. He tossed a few credits to the bartender and left a tip on the bar, before heading towards the back area and the stairs.

Climbing the flight of steps, his boots clanked off the metal.
Arriving at the upper floor V.I.P. area, he knocked twice on the door.

It opened slowly, a pair of bodyguards stood in the room directly in front of Jon.
They came out, Jon noticing that their hands- or in the Quarren bodyguard's case- tentacles were close to the hold-out blasters at their hips.
One held a stun baton in hand, standing impressively in front of Jon, barring him from entry,
"You have a weapon?" The bouncer asked.
Jon nodded, "Left breast pocket." He held his hands above his head; he knew this was just standard procedure. Whoever was in the room must be important...or dangerous.
The Quarren bodyguard retrived Jon's blaster from his inner pocket, then continued to search Jon bodily for weapons.

Ignoring the Quarren's prodding tentacles, Jon asked the other bodyguard, "May I ask who the person that about to be seeing is?"

The bodyguard smirked, "You mean people."
The Quarren moved behind Jon, and nudged him forward as the other bodyguard led Jon into the room.
The room was dimly lit by blue lighting, casting deep shadows all over everything.
Jon was led in front of an audience of ten or eleven people of varying species.
Their faces were enshrouded in shadows, he could barely tell what species most were. From what he could see, at the forefront sat a Hutt. To one side was the tentacle-haired look of a Nautolan, and at least two were humans, one bald.

The shadowy figured were whispering back and forth until the Hutt raised a hand. A protocol droid stammered over, to stop beside the slug-like alien, and said in an accented and proper voice,
"I am RL137. I am a protocol droid here to translate for you, as you may not be capable of understanding the various languages spoken here."

Jon nodded, "I can understand some Huttese. I'll let you know if I understand what he's saying."

"Chowbaso, Jonathan Rohaeus." The Hutt rumbled slowly, pronouncing Jon's name, 'Jon-a-tan Ro-hee-us'.

Jon nodded back, "Greetings..." He trailed off, hoping the Hutt would get the hint that Jon had no idea who the Hutt was.

The droid piped in, "Judging by your body language and lack of proper manners, I suspect you do not know who you are addressing. My master is named Firellav, and, as royalty, should be referred to accordingly."

Jon nodded, Another Hutt crimelord that has an ego...
"My graciousness, you run a beautiful cantina."

Firellav the Hutt replied, "Noba mu-ma bunky, Rohaeus. Bah bunky fa rode apar."

The droid echoed in basic, "This is not my cantina, Rohaeus. My palace is far from here."

Jon nodded, "I suspect you didn't invite me up here to offer house decorating tips, shall we get down to business?"

The hutt chuckled, clearly appreciating Jon wishing to cut the fodder, "Mi cooing koo sooah, di-dia azalus barveen."

The droid translated, "I have the credits, if you'll take the risk."

Jon shrugged, he didn't need credits, but a source of income was always good, "Whats the job?"

"Na 'job', Rohaeus." The Hutt responded, "Barle kange breh vinug, batken loreen."

The droid, "No 'job', Rohaeus. I have brought you here to offer you the chance of a lifetime, for taking the risk of your life."

Jon raised an eyebrow, and the Hutt waved to the wall behind Jon.

Turning around, the nearby wall-mounted monitor the Hutt had waved to began showing a view of a large forest, with lakes and rivers and mountains on a planet Jon couldn't identify.

The Hutt motioned for the droid to speak, "The scarcely inhabited planet Kothlis has recently been 'acquired' by my master and some of his partners. The planet is constantly watched by a large array of orbital sattelites, all giving a constant feed of the goings-ons on the surface. My master wishes to extend an invitation for you to be his 'entertainment' of sorts. You, along with a dozen or so other participants, will compete in a competition to find a way off-planet, where a space station in orbit will wait to pick you up.
Upon your drop into the forest, with few supplies and no map, you will be given the coordinates to a transport shuttle - your trip to winning the competition. If you win, you will be given a trip to wherever you wish in the Galaxy, and a prize of 15 million credits."

Jon raised his eyebrows, "15 million credits just for winning a cross-country race?"

The droid tilted its head, almost pityingly, and carried on, "The race will be to the death, sir. Contestants can win simply by being the last one alive. There are also the planet's predators, and some other obstacles my master has decided to include."

Ah. Jon clued in. To win 15 million dollars he had to fight for his life through a hostile forest filled with traps and dangers. That was what the droid meant.

The droid said, "The competitors are chosen personally by my master himself. The others you see here are going to betting for the competitors. Which will win, and which will perish."

Jon nodded, frowning. It was a death deal. He would win big...if he managed to survive. Jon wanted adventure, but he hadn't planned to risk his life, or kill anyone.

"My master will not be pleased if you refuse, Master Rohaeus. He chose you because he thinks you have a chance of winning, and because you would benefit quite well from the prize money." The droid said.

Jon raised his eyebrows. Suddenly the guards seemed a lot more imposing. The hutt would most likely not let Jon leave without agreeing to take part in the sick competition. The hutt and those betting would watch from satellites in orbit while the dozen competitors ripped one another apart to try to get a grand prize.

"I can't say 15 million credits is worth my life, or any of the competitors. Sorry, your highness, no dice."

The hutt rumbled, "Mo fofo sooah."
The droid repeated, "I'll double the credits, then", and then added, "I suggest you take the offer, sir."

Jon shook his head, "Sorry, money doesn't buy me life. Thank you for your offer, master."

The hutt uttered, "Da di naya chosee, Jonathan Rohaeus... Nu baska champio, bo nu baska mort."

As the room went fuzzy, Jon didn't need a translation for what the Hutt had said.

The shot must have been drugged. No wonder it had been on-the-house.
Jon reached out to grab ahold of something, but found no handholds available. He toppled to the floor in a stupor, the huttese translation echoing through his mind one final time before he blacked out:

"You never had a choice, Jonathan Rohaeus... You will walk away the champion, or you will die."

[Trenton Vinh]

Jon's world was a sea of shadow beneath a sky of black. Adrift in the ocean, no light on the horizon.

Suddenly, a light appeared. Jon tried to focus on it, but the more he tried the blurrier it became; fuzzing at the edges.

He blinked, and his consciousness returned, and when his eyes reopened he found himself strapped in tightly to a shuttle chair.

There was a trandoshan seated in front of him, and- he craned his neck to see what was behind him. A zabrak.

The seats were on a track, locked in place...for now.

Jon spotted one of the bodyguards from the cantina near the front of the shuttle, the quarren.
The quarren received a message on a comlink, and nodded. He pulled a lever, and the loading ramp of the shuttle slid open, while the shuttle soared hundreds of meters in the air over a dense forest.

Jon remembered everything in that instant, but was jerked out of his memories when the Zabrak behind him screamed. The seats slid back on the tracks, the occupants toppling off the loading ramp one by one, strapped in place.

Jon gripped the arms of his seat, his wrists locked in place by magnetic cuffs. He struggled, grinding his teeth. His chair slid back slowly, gaining momentum.

He yelled, "Oh kri-" before the rushing wind tore the breath from his lungs, and stole the words from his mouth.

His neck was locked in place. Locks also held his ankles, calves, and waist. He wasn't going to be able to break out of the chair anytime soon.

The world spun around him, his body battered by wind, the sky and ground flashing by second after second. The ground growing ever closer by the second.

Jon closed his eyes, preparing to hit the ground...then the timed parachute mechanism activated and released a green chute on thick wire strings.
He was jerked upright, his neck painfully slamming against the metal brace.
His fall became a gentle feet-first descent, ending when he bounced lightly on a shallow hill in a meadow. The chair toppled onto its side.
Jon struggled to slip out, but to no avail.

A recording came from somewhere in the chair, the overfriendly voice of a protocol droid- most likely the one from the cantina- said,
"Greetings, contestants! You have just landed in your starting area. Your chairs have you locked in place for your safety, and will unlock at the beginning of the race in exactly seven hours.
As a warning, there are several tips that we would like to inform you of:

Firstly, bocatt's and sand panthers are common sights in these forests.
Secondly, there will be several weapons and other useful items, along with many traps in the area, so keep an eye out.
Finally, if you look around, you will notice a snow-tipped mountain, some distance away. The base of that mountain is where your victory shuttle awaits. First one to the station in orbit is the winner! 15 million credits in your pocket. And if you are, ah, entertaining enough, my master has another special prize waiting.

There are many dangers, and other competitors are just as much a threat as the environment, so be careful. Some of you were lucky enough to hold on to your belongings during the landing, others may not have been as lucky.

Good luck, ladies and gentlemen! May the games begin shortly."

The recording clicked to a halt.

Jon rolled his eyes. Of course, the Hutt would leave a dozen people locked in a bunch of chairs for seven hours. He wondered if he would be eaten or otherwise mauled before the chair unlocked.

He tried to look down, or feel for his blaster under his leather jacket, but felt nothing. Jon sighed.

He tried to find a comfortable position and closed his eyes; if he was going to be locked in a chair for seven hours, he may as well get some rest...



*****


Firellav the Hutt squirmed with delight as he watched his competitors toppling through the sky via sattelite. His nephew, Greshel, laughed heartily next to him.

Firellav said, "This looks like it will be quite the entertaining event. Have you decided who you are going to bet on? I bet on the Trandoshan to win, but there will be smaller bets throughout for special prizes."

Firellav said aloud to the other viewers, crimelords and warmongers, the interesting type of company.
"Place your bets!" Firellav announced, "A hundred thousand credits say that the Rodian dies first! I'll pay ten thousand extra credits to whoever can guess the way it dies!"

There were shouts and hollers, as the group of aliens all made bets and the like.

The Hutt motioned his droid over and said quietly, "Tell the 'street sweeper' crews to take flight at sundown."

The droid nodded in acknowledgement and hurried off.

The street sweepers were old gunships that Firellav had purchased and heavily modified. Each of the five gunships consisted of a pair of 'Thunderclap repeating cannons', a concussion missile launcher, and a flamethrower. They would be flying around the area surrounding the mountain pass, searching for competitors.

Firellav chucked with anticipation; things were going to get very interesting, very soon...

[Trenton Vinh]

Locks clicked, and Jon awoke to his binders unlocking, freeing him of his restraints.
He rolled out of the chair and onto the soft, earthy grass.

Sighing, Jon sat up, rubbing his wrists where the binders had dug in, leaving marks on his skin.

He looked around the field slowly. He was hungry, but knew he wouldn't be able to eat anytime soon, unless an animal walked over, struck up a fire and grilled itself for him.


He stood up and felt for his blaster; the weapon and its holster were missing.

"Great." The Corellian muttered, his hands on his hips. He shook his head ruefully, "Only I can end up in the forest, with a dozen people out for blood, no weapon, no food, and no way out."

He puffed out his cheeks when he exhaled, pacing a bit while thinking.
The only way to guarantee his survival here was to win the race. But by doing that he was risking his own neck.

"Damned if I do, damned if I don't, I guess." He muttered aloud.

The night sky above him seemed to tremble with foreboding as Jon made his way to the treeline. Fifty meters before he reached the trees he froze, realizing that the air actually was trembling. Well...more specifically, he could hear engines trembling in the air. And they were close.

Jon turned in time to see a gunship soaring straight towards him. He waved his hands at first, then realized that in the darkness he wouldn't be very visible by the pilots.

The gunship hovered above Jon's discarded chair for a moment, before moving a few meters away and blasting it into oblivion with a concussion missile.

Jon swallowed, the gunships were clearly hunting the competitors.
His hunch was proven to be correct when the gunship spun slowly to face him, and the dual laser cannons on the wings began to rotate slowly with a whistling noise.

"Oh, kriff!" Jon yelled, turning on his heel and running full-out towards the treeline.
The whirring of the laser cannons became the screaming sound of laser bolts, as the weapon warmed up and opened fire. Jon felt the dirt beneath his feet exploding into the air as the laser bolts missed him by inches.

Risking a glance back, still ten meters from the dense trees, Jon saw another concussion missile launch from the belly of the gunship. Jon jumped blindly forward, knowing deep down that he had no chance of the jump carrying him to safety.

But the concussion missile and his jump turned out to be Jon's saving grace, as the explosion- while painful and deafening- launched Jon into the dense trees and out of sight of the gunship's hellfire.

Jon's world became a painful one of jarring twirls and rolls across the dirt and grassy ground. His momentum carried him over the edge of a hill and down it. He bounced and twirled, every inch of his body hurt.
His ears were bleeding, and everything seemed eerily silent. The sounds of his body jerking around sounded distant, as if he was underwater.

As he rolled to a halt at the bottom of the hill, Jon didn't get the chance to worry about whether or not his hearing would ever return, because suddenly the forest burst into flame.

The gunship roared by, pouring fire onto the leaves and branches.

The heat hit Jon in waves from a dozen meters away, and as the flames spread, he turned tail and ran along the base of the hill.
The sound of the gunship grew steadily more quiet as it continued in the direction it thought Jon had gone.

Using his only chance of escaping, Jon sprinted, bloody and bruised, into the woods, as far from the fire as he could.

He ran until his chest burned, until his lungs screamed for mercy, and then he ran some more.
He finally stopped when he fell to his knees, wheezing.

Jon took only a second to eye his surroundings. He had no idea what kind of wildlife was found on this planet, but he assumed he wouldn't be running into any friendly wookiees.

Jon looked up as a drop of water struck the top of his head. The rain seemed to come down all at once, and Jon was soaked to his skin in mere moments.
He cursed the cantina on Coruscant, wishing he had never set foot in the bar.

He dragged his aching, hungry body into a nook in a tree, savoring the shelter from the downpour. He pulled his knees against his chest, and pulled off his shirt, wringing it dry. He draped it over his chest as a blanket and rested his head against the uncomfortable tree trunk.

Then he passed out.

[Ta'hok]

Kyle Strife moved as stealthily as he could, which for him was a considerable deal better then the others. He had awakened in his own chair some miles away from where he now was. He still wasn't sure what was going on. All he knew was one minute he had been in an unknown location in a containment unit, and the next he had been here. His weapons still had not been returned to him but he had managed to find a small knife. It wasn't much but he figured it was better then nothing.

His stealth had been his saving grace in this wild terrain. He had been lucky to avoid some rather nasty looking creatures as well as other people. Some had looked just as lost as he was but others looked like they were out to kill. He was watching one of the second category now. The man was well supplied with armor that would allow him to avoid getting harmed by blaster fire. The weapon he carried looked rather efficient as well. But neither would protect him from Kyle. Kyle knew he would only have one chance, one small space of a few seconds in which to dispatch his opponent without being noticed. Calmly he readied his knife, his breathing slow and steady as he patiently watched the man move around bellow him.

With incredible speed Kyle moved, his eyes focused solely on his target. He lunged from his position in the nook of a branch and down onto his unsuspecting prey. The man never knew what hit him. Kyle landed on his back driving the knife into his heart, and his body into the ground. Kyle was quick to shove the man's head into the soft earth to stifle any cries he might make and to suffocate him. Within a few minutes the man had stopped moving. Kyle withdrew the knife and began searching the man seeing if there was anything useful that he could take from him.

Kyle smiled when he saw what treasures he had found here. The man was equipped well enough he could have easily survived for a week in these wilds. Kyle removed everything but the man's clothing. The rumble of thunder lifted his eyes to the sky. He knew that he would need to find shelter to avoid exposure from the storm. Hastily he ran through the trees until he happened upon a cave of sorts. It was more of a hollow under a tree but Kyle figured it would do well enough. He stowed most of the gear there and then began pulling small brush from the ground and using it to patch up the holes as well as the entrance. He collected some wood for a fire, then set out once more to get some food. Regrettably he knew nothing of the vegetation which meant he would have to bring down an animal to cook for a meal.

Shortly after he left his shelter the clouds broke. Kyle knew that he should be quick otherwise he may not have the energy to continue. It was while he was traveling that he saw Jon. Recognition crossed his face, followed shortly by concern. As he stepped closer it was obvious that the pilot was not in the best of shape. As gently as he could he draped Jon's arm over his shoulders and moved him to the makeshift shelter. He slowly laid Jon on the ground before checking his wounds. Thankfully none of them looked too severe but they were still bad. Kyle used the small kit he had found on the soldier to patch up the worst of them saving as much of the supplies as he could. He still ended up using almost half of the kit due more to its size then Jon's wounds.

Letting Jon rest Kyle departed to search again for food. Kyle was able to find a medium sized animal. It looked like an herbivore judging by the fact that it was eating plants. Kyle used the rain to help mask his sounds as well as his scent as he snuck up on the beast. Much as he had done with the soldier he struck suddenly and with all the speed he had leaping at the creature. It sensed him at the last minute and he grabbed it and held on with all his strength, getting drug a few feet before the creature began to succumb to its wound. Kyle didn't realize until later that he had gotten a scratch on his leg, likely from a tree root. He let the rain clean out the wound as he brought the food back to his shelter.

Once he was back he cut the meat off that he was going to use before carrying the remains away. He didn't want to tempt any wild animals into the shelter by leaving the body just outside. Once he was back inside and out of the rain he built a fire and began to prepare the meat, hoping that it would at least be palatable.

[Trenton Vinh]

Jon woke up cold, wet, but alive. He felt the warmth of a fire nearby, and realized someone had tended his wounds. His first question was who had decided to spare him in a competition where to win, everyone else had to die.
He had gone into this knowing he had no one to trust, and he had ended up in this situation because he had been looking for adventure.

I sure as hell found adventure...time to see if I'll survive it.

Jon suspected whoever had taken care of him was going to either kill him later, or use him as bait for one of the many traps on the planet.

Gathering his strength, Jon rolled to his feet and took off into the wilderness, into the dead of night once more.

The rain pounded his senses, he could hear nothing but the torrents of rain drilling into the trees, and could see little more than tree trunks and bushes as he bolted by them.

He continued to run until he heard a high-pitched whine, and a crimson energy bolt ripped through the air over his shoulder and slammed into a tree.

Jon hurled himself to the left blindly, landing in a heap against a tree trunk. A pair of blaster bolts tore past the spot he had just been.

Jon looked around for the source of the bolts, but whoever...whatever, had attacked him was next to invisible in the black of the night. He climbed to his feet, and then dropped to his knees instinctively. His instincs proved to be his saviour; a blaster bolt fizzed over his head, singeing his skin.

The moon broke through the clouds, and for a moment Jon could see the silhouette of a black-armored figure, aiming a blaster rifle at him.
Jon dove to the side, and a flamethrower engulfed the tree he had taken refuge beside.
The fire lit up the area, and Jon took off into the dark, knowing that hiding and escaping would be his only chance of survival.

His muscles ached, and he almost wished he hadn't run from whoever had 'helped' him. But he would rather risk his life on his own than trust another that he didn't know.

Blaster bolts tore through the brush, hitting trees and rocks, ricocheting about. Jon felt a hot knife slash against his thigh and knew he had been narrowly missed by a bolt. This meant his attacker was able to track him somehow.
Nightvision perhaps? he thought.

Jon ducked behind a rocky outcropping, and searched the ground for a sharp rock.
He found one, it fit in his palm, and made a nearly perfect arrow-head. This would have to do for now, until he had the chance to sharpen it into a more proper weapon.

Jon looked around, keeping low, ready to leap in any direction. He searched the black forest for his predator, fully aware that he was probably in his enemy's blaster sights.

He heard a click and threw himself to the side. The area lit up as the grenade exploded, sending shrapnel and flak everywhere.

Great Jon thought, Now anyone else nearby knows where we are.

Lightning crackled through the sky, and Jon looked around, searching for his attacker in the light.
Nothing.

Lightning crackled again, and Jon saw his black-armored foe moving slowly towards him, weapon raised.
Jon swore. He had come this far in life, just to die at the hands of a random merc with a blaster?
It seemed...cheap. He always thought he was destined to die in some great space battle, leading his squadron to victory. Perishing a hero.
He wasn't going to die like this.

Lightning ripped through the sky again, and Jon rushed forwards, water pouring from his face. He yelled aloud, eyes wild, his makeshift weapon raised. He tackled his foe, knocking the pair to the ground.
Jon slammed the rock into his enemy's helmet visor, cracking something. The man kicked Jon off him, and Jon rolled to the side on the water-slicked grass.

Lightning struck, and Jon spotted the blaster rifle, laying in the grass ten feet away. Jon's attacker must have spotted it too, for both men ran for it. Jon dove, sliding belly-first, his fingers gripping the barrel of the weapon as his opponent got ahold of the butt.
A swift boot to the face sent Jon reeling, his temple splitting and pouring blood across his face, blinding him.

Jon felt the weapon being trained on him, and he sat stunned for a moment, admitting defeat. The armored man pulled the trigger. The weapon clocked; an empty power-pack. Jon realized his opportunity and rushed once more, desperately, a final act of stubborn defiance. He rammed his shoulder hard into the armored man's stomach, wrapped his arms around his waist and lifted him. He carried the man into the base of a rock, where they slammed together toppled apart in opposite directions. Jon felt his hand brush against the rock he had grabbed earlier, and he picked it up. From his knees he jumped forwards, the rock coming down to slam into the skull of his enemy, who must have lost his helmet in the struggle.

There was a spray of blood and the man fell to the ground. Jon landed on top of him, a mass of flailing limbs. Jon felt a fist graze his chin, his own blood blurring his vision. He slammed the rock down again and again onto the man's face, as the man punched and kicked at Jon.
Jon continued the brutal beating, unrelenting and unmerciful, until the man slumped, no longer moving.
Blood covered Jon's hands up to the wrists, his face was covered in his own blood. His clothing, soaking wet, was flecked with blood as well.
He dropped the rock and climbed off his now-dead enemy. He was breathing heavily, water pouring off him.

He screamed at the top of his lungs into the sky, the adrenaline coursing through him.

Fight or flight instincts, he thought as his heart rate slowed.
He stumbled away from the corpse, knowing full well that Jon did not want to see the damage inflicted upon whoever he had killed.

He wandered through the woods blearily, the rain washing his skin and face, cleaning the blood.
He shivered, but kept moving. It would be morning soon.

He would get through this. He would survive this competition, even if it meant slaughtering every single other competitor on the planet.

[Trenton Vinh]

Dawn's sunlight burned through the gap betwees trees, illuminating the world around Jonathan Rohaeus.

Lacking food, sleep, and in need of medical care, Jon crouched behind a rocky outcropping, eyeing the scene in the clearing below.

A rodian, most likely another competitor, was surrounded by a trio of stormtroopers, a pair of scout troopers, and their black-clothed commander. They all stood in a grassy clearing, against the nearby cliff was the entrance to an underground bunker, most likely the Imperial stronghold.

The commander seemed to be speaking to the rodian, but Jon couldn't hear what they were saying at this distance.
He had no idea why an Imperial Outpost would be on this planet. The Galactic Alliance had shut down stormtrooper training camps; the white armor was now a thing of the past.

He needed to hear what they were talking about. The Rodian looked terrified, and the stormtroopers were holding him at gunpoint, so they clearly hadn't expected any visitors.

Shuffling forward, Jon froze as he knocked several pebbles down the rocky hill. As the stormtrooper scouts looked in his direction, he ducked down behind a large boulder.

Holding his breath, Jon waited.
After a moment, he poked his head out, noting that the scout troopers had disappeared; they had probably gone inside the bunker.

He resumed his stealth approach by sidling behind the trees along the outside of the clearing. He found a spot within earshot, behind a moss-covered and cracked stone.
He could hear the Imperial Commander, with a thick accent,

"Our intruder here is a Rebel Spy. I don't know what kind of tactic this is, but it won't work. They must be trying to draw us out with these childish lies."

The rodian squeaked out something in Rodese, and a stormtrooper, the squad's leader, translated,
"Sir," his voice sounded metallic through his helmet speakers, "It says its telling the truth. That the Empire and the Rebellion joined forces years ago, and that the Emperor was slain by some Jedi."

The commander's voice grew shrill,
"Nonsense!"
The stormtrooper squad leader said, "Sir, its a plausible story. Its been years since we made contact with Imperial High Command. Anything could have happened in that time."

The commander eyed his underling and spat at him, "Don't you see? This is exactly what they're trying to do - make you doubt command, and the might of the Empire. They are trying to whittle away at our iron will and it will not work on me. Double the patrols, the Rebels may be preparing an attack!"

The squad leader's shoulders slumped noticeably, but then he saluted, "Yes, sir."
The commander began to walk inside, but stopped and said, "Kill the rodian. The Empire makes examples of those disloyal to its cause."

Jon lowered his head, hiding himself fully from view as he heard the rodian shriek, before a blaster bolt silenced him forever.

He took a moment to think about the situation. These Imperials hadn't made contact with the Empire in years...they must have crashlanded here or had their communications destroyed. They were probably stranded here. They had no idea that the Empire was a shadow of its former self.

And they seemed adamant to think that after all these years, the rebels were still just on the far side of the treeline, waiting to strike.

Jon struggled to understand that kind obsession. These imperials gave a face to the word 'loyal'.

He poked his head out. The stormtrooper squad leader, the one who had spoken to his commander, seemed to have a level head on his shoulders. There was a chance that Jon could get help from him. But not while he had a pair of stormtroopers with him...

This wouldn't be easy. How would he be able to get the man on his own for long enough to sway him? And if he failed at that...

He eyed the bunker as the stormtroopers took to burning th corpse of the rodian. The stormtrooper squad leader watched, but Jon couldn't see his expression through the helmet.

Jon knew what he would need to do.
He was going to sneak into an imperial stronghold filled with paranoid imperial loyalists, and find this squad leader's quarters, in the hopes of convincing him of what his commander refused to believe.

[Ta'hok]

By the time Kyle returned Jon was gone. He found it odd that Jon had left but he couldn't see any signs of a struggle so he figured Jon left by his own power. Kyle may have skills like his master but he doubted he could track someone in the dark without equipment. Instead he ate what he was going to for the evening and prepared the rest as best he could. By the end of it his hands were sore and he was very tired so he cleaned up and found the driest spot he could in his makeshift shelter to sleep. He didn't wake up again until morning.

Gathering together his supplies he went after Jon. The trail was hard to find and to follow, the rain having destroyed or marred most of it. But Kyle did find the dead body. He couldn't explain why, but it filled him with a small sense of dread. Either Jon wasn't the man he remembered or things here were a lot worse then they seemed to be. Kyle spent the rest of the day struggling to determine the trail between ducking out of sight to avoid the armed men walking among the trees. Kyle had no idea what was going on but he intended to find Jon and get things figured out.

By the time Kyle caught up with the Corellian Pilot he had found a group of storm troopers. Kyle couldn't say what Jon's plans might be but he froze when Jon was almost discovered by the sliding pebbles. Kyle prepared to fight back if they were discovered but was relieved when the storm troopers turned their attention back to the Rodian. Jon seemed intent on getting closer so Kyle figured it would be best not to distract him. Instead Kyle worked his way closer to the pilot. Thankfully Jon didn't go too close so Kyle didn't have a difficult time catching up to him.

Jon's attention seemed focused on whatever was taking place beyond the boulder. Kyle was not positioned correctly to see beyond it so he didn't know what exactly was going on. Kyle crept up behind the pilot careful not to make a sound. The last thing he needed was to be attacked before Jon recognized him. He eased himself slowly into position before grabbing Jon, wrapping his left arm around Jon's chest while simultaneously covering his mouth with his right hand. Predictably Jon fought back which Kyle had expected as he lowered them both below the cover of the boulder to avoid being seen. What Kyle hadn't expected was for Jon's instincts to be as focused as they were.

He was surprised when Jon's elbow connected hard with his abdomen forcing air through his lungs. Kyle did managed to keep himself from crying out or gasping as he fought to regain his breath but it was a difficult thing for him. Kyle fought through the pain realizing he only had a few seconds before Jon found a way to break free.

"Jon... it's me," he whispered making as much noise as he dared. Getting enough air to speak was difficult and he was doing his best to regulate his breathing which was causing his lungs to burn. He held Jon for a few more seconds as the pilot recognized his voice and relaxed. Once he felt it was safe Kyle released Jon and fell back against the boulder, wrapping his arms around his stomach as he struggled to regain his breath. Black and white flecks danced across his vision momentarily before it cleared. He took a few more deep breaths before smiling at Jon.

"Heh, you hit pretty hard."

[Ghev Dralin]

The darkness wasn't absolute; every so often, a blue flash from the energy binders holding Skylar in place would illuminate the cell (for that's what he was sure the room was), casting a dim glow over the confined and spartan area.
It took a while for everything to begin to come into focus, and the throbbing in his head probably meant he'd been knocked unconscious at some point.
Another flash, as energy crackled over the suspension field keeping him hanging in the air. Skylar realised he was not only spinning, but he was upside down, which probably explained the feeling of congestion in his face.
Now all I need to know is how I got here. Wherever here is.

Closing his eyes, he forced himself to focus, and recall everything he could.
"Skylar Orade, fourteen years and ten months old, born on Concordia..." he said to himself, almost reflexively.
"Oh, you're awake" a voice sneered from the gloom. "And still repeating the same garbage. Didn't think a tough little Mando worm like you would crack easily, but you sure as hell can't take a punch to the head".
"Who's there?" Skylar called out, opening his eyes and squinting into the darkness.
"Drop the act" the voice replied. "I'm gettin' bored of this 'memory loss' game. Scouts picked you up wearing a flightsuit bearing the Mandalorian skull. Everyone knows the Mando's are allied with the Rebel Alliance. Time you start talking".
"I don't talk to people to afraid to show their face" Skylar snapped back, masking his bewilderment. The Rebel Alliance was a thing of the past, as was their alliance with the Mandalorians.
He could tell he'd said something to annoy the disembodied voice, because the lights in the cell suddenly blasted to life, and he was dropped unceremoniously to the floor, his bare chest slapping the metal grate.
Even with the lights on, the room still felt dark and gloomy; everything was black (or, in places, brown from years of neglect), the light cast an eerie orange glow over the place, and in the middle of it all was a man in stark white armour. An Imperial Stormtrooper.
"You Mando's think we're all afraid of you" the Stormtrooper said slowly, removing his helmet. Surprisingly, he was younger than Skylar had imagined, but the far-away look in his cold steel eyes said that even youth couldn't shield a being from everything. Skylar knew that all too well, though he couldn't begin to understand why.
Mother... I lost you. No, you were taken from me by that di'kutla jetii...
Memories of his mother came rushing back, of how she'd taught him everything she knew, playing the role of both mother and father due to the untimely death of her husband following Skylar's birth.
And he remembered her death, fighting for her life against a Jedi in an arena on Ryloth, while Skylar was held captive by a vile Hutt. She wasn't just fighting for her life; she was fighting for his freedom. And she'd lost, dismembered and impaled by her opponent.
But she'd gone out in a blaze of glory.
"Thats because most people usually are afraid of us" he replied to the Stormtrooper, pushing himself up from the cold metal floor.
"Well you're not so scary when you're small" the Stormtrooper spat, and kicked out at Skylar's face to send him back to the floor. Skylar winced and instinctively turned his head, throwing his hands up, waiting for the sharp pain that would inevitably follow the boot to his face.

Except, it didn't.

Skylar caught the man's foot, and before he had time to revel in amazement, he jumped to his feet, pushing the Stormtrooper back by his own leg, and dug his fingers into the exposed back of his knee, pinching a nerve cluster. The Stormtrooper yelled in shock and pain, and rolled, clutching his leg which had suddenly locked in place.
Skylar looked at his own hands, now on his feet, and staggered backward; his muscles felt tense, from enduring the beatings he'd inevitably faced in this cell, and also from hanging upside down and motionless for hell-knows how long. His body was also caked in flaking mud and dried blood, and his pants smelled of damp; wherever he was, it was a dirty, wet planet.
His thoughts were broken by a sudden yell as the trooper, his leg now working again, regained his composure and charged. Skylar let his reflexes do the work, swatting aside the trooper's stun baton with one hand and slamming the other into the underside of his arm, near the elbow joint, to break the bone clean.
"Argh!" the trooper cried, face white with shock, and Skylar ducked, burying his shoulder into the man's gut. With strength he didn't think he'd possess, he ran forward, picking up the trooper in both arms, and slammed him spine-first into the wall. The trooper sagged, and slumped, falling down... and right into Skylar's fists, both clasped together, as he rose up and smashed them into the trooper's face. His head snapped back, hitting the wall hard, then drooped sideward lifelessly. His neck had broken.
Teräs Käsi. I know Teräs Käsi. Mother... she knew it too.

As the adrenaline drained from his relatively weakened body, Skylar sagged to the ground, shaking.
"No, get up Skylar. Rest when you're free and outside..." he paused, wondering just where the hell he was. In an Imperial prison, but he didn't know if that was underground or even in orbit of the planet he'd been on.
Wherever he was, he'd made up his mind to at least get out of the cell. Forcing himself to his feet, he snagged the key-card from the dead trooper's belt, then retrieved his fallen stun-baton. As he was about to leave, he shivered; he was still naked from the waist up.
"Well, you don't need these anymore" he muttered to the dead trooper and, after hastily unclipping his plastisteel armour, tore the upper body from his black bodysuit then slid it over his own head. It was a very loose fit.
Deciding that even cheap Stormtrooper armour was better than no armour, he donned the torso, forearm and shin armour of the dead trooper, then opened the cell door.
Thankfully, the first thing he saw was a viewport, overlooking a landing pad. Unfortunately, the viewport seemed to be set into the side of a rocky outcrop or cliff, for the drop was sheer and uneven. Whatever this place was, Skylar imagined it extended many levels above and below the ground, and judging by the scale of it, it would be teeming with Imperials.
But the Empire wasn't meant to be operating again, at least not outside of Galactic Alliance homeworlds. Another glance outside, and Skylar doubted that this forested rock was one such world. Not a skyscraper or airspeeder in sight.

After glancing both ways down the corridor, Skylar decided to take a left. Stun-baton held ready, he ran. To freedom or to trouble, he couldn't say.