Pirates are a rowdy lot. It is a fact rarely questioned and merely accepted by those who deal with them regularly. While the Herald’s crew is no different, the band's leader has a different approach to facilitating their tendencies. To this end, one of the Matron's smaller hangars — designated Hangar Zerek — has been recommissioned as a combat arena... or execution chamber.

Once a dedicated repair bay, Hangar Zerek is still equipped with fabricator arms and an assortment of Trade Federation droid parts that have fallen into disrepair. A squared off section, including illumination banks at each corner, designates the intended arena. The section is denoted by active shock fences, run by nearby generators. It is here that the crew lets off steam, with the hangar bay sealed.

The hangar itself still has a fully functioning force field that comes into play when matches are meant to become more interesting, or when it comes time to jettison troublesome captives. The hangar bay doors peel open, leaving only the active field to separate the arena from the vacuum of space. The control mechanisms for the hangar doors can be operated manually from the control booth or on a set timer, including the force field's toggle switch.

The control booth is the last segment of Hangar Zerek worth noting. Doubling as an observation deck, it is the only obvious entrance to the hangar. All maintenance hatches and access-ways have been sealed in advance, though the catwalks crisscrossing along the upper layers of the hangar remain. The booth itself is sealed, providing a safe haven for when the force field comes down.

And I was having such a nice night, too, Jon thought as his back slammed against the metal wall. The towering Barabel stalked across the room, a look of fury in his eyes.

“Ok, ok, I know we both said some things,” Jon said, climbing to his feet, “But I know if you look deep inside, you can find it in yourself to-” he was cut off by a right cross to the face.

He nearly was sent sprawling to the floor under the force of the blow, but kept his balance, then ducked under another swing. Coming up around his opponent, he took the opportunity to back up and try to put some distance between them.

“Trying to run,” Kashiro called out, pulling his knife from his belt. “I’m going to teach you a much needed lesson in respect, mercenary!”

Jon pulled Kuro from it’s holster on his left hip and fired off a volley, but they came up short against Kashiro’s barrier, even as the man was charging him at him like a furious gundark. Silvon had just enough time to swing around on a metal pillar to get out of the way.

Karabast, what did drunk-me say last night to set this guy off so badly? Jon drew his vibroswords from inside his coat, and pointed them both at his opponent.

“Now, I’m sure we can work this out like civilized - oh Force!” Jon dodged out of the way of a shipping crate that telekinetically flew in his direction. Before he’d even recovered from that, his opponent was bearing down on him again.

Jon backed away, raising both of his blades in a guarded position as the Barabel charged across the distance between them. The Mercenary didn’t give up much in height or weight to his opponent, but the two had very different builds, and as Kashiro grew closer the Odanite felt a sense of worry creeping in despite having the reach advantage with his vibroblades. A cocky smile spread across his face as he put on a mask of confidence.

“You think you’re gonna teach me something, huh? Fine, give me your best shot!” Shouting, the Mercenary ducked aside as Kashiro launched the shiv he was holding. The throw was clumsy but did what it was intended in throwing Jon’s stance off. The Human stepped back, bringing one of the two blades he held in a wide arc as the two closed.

Despite his massive physique, Kashiro moved like a striking snake, avoiding the blow and entering Jon’s guard. The second vibroblade darted forward in a straight lunge towards the Barabel’s midsection. The Odanite knew the blow would land, anticipating the minor resistance he would feel as the blade separated the flesh and dug into the ribs of his opponent. And yet, his opponent shifted as if he knew the blade's path, his torso moving just out of the way.

Jon felt the wind rush out of his lungs as the Barabel’s fist connected with his solar plexus, pain flaring through his body. Cursing, he tried to create distance between them, his vision swimming as he coughed and gasped for breath.

“Your choice to insult this one was a poor decision,” Kashiro hissed.

Jon drew a shuddering breath, glancing around him to get his bearings as he backed away, placing a stack of crates between the two men. Kashiro stalked after him, the Mercenary breathing heavily and the Arconan seemingly unphased, methodical in his approach.

Screw this, I’m not dying today to some freaking lizard for something I don’t even remember! The Odanite reversed and pressed forward, his blades weaving in wide arcs, forcing the Barabel back as he focused on not providing any opening. Jon knew he didn’t hold a candle to the strength of the Arconan but he also knew he didn’t need to; if either of his vibroblades made contact they’d cut right through the Barabel’s armor.

Jon let his pace slow, watching his enemy and waiting, giving the impression he was growing exhausted and knowing Kashiro would see it. Without a moment's hesitation, the feint worked. Kashiro stepped forward, planting his foot and preparing to strike. Jon’s second blade came upward in an arc intending to catch his opponent in the side. A smile crossed the Mercenary's face and faded just as quickly as he felt the weapon suddenly stop, heard the whine of the vibroblade as it struck something solid.

Glancing down, his mind paused as he saw the impossible. Kashiro had caught the blade. Where he should be seeing the man's hand severed clean. Instead, a translucent glow surrounded the sword and the Barabel’s body, a line of blood dripped down the blade. He felt a wrenching pull and the sword skittered away as the larger man yanked it from his grasp and sent it skittering across the hangar floor.

Oh, screw this The Human reached to his belt and only had a moment to think before a large boot connected with his chest, Kashiro’s thrust kick throwing him backwards. The Mercenary rolled away with the momentum, creating as much distance as he could, a metal clink hitting the floor where the man had stood a few moments before. The C-10 stun grenade that Jon dropped burst with a ring of blue light, exploding into a ball of brilliant energy.

Jon cautiously opened his eyes, and took stock of his condition. He was not dead. He considered that an unqualified success. The matter of how long he would remain that way however…

Jon glanced across the room, and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw his Barabel friend lying imobile on the ground. Luckily Jon himself managed to roll just clear of the grenade’s stun radius. He hauled himself to his feet, and quickly recovered his weapons.

Best get out of here while he’s still-

“Graahhh,” the Barabel groaned. Jon froze in place, not daring to look over his shoulder.

No. Now way. No kriffing way! He thought frantically. That should’ve easily knocked him out for another hour at least!

“Now… this one… is angry,” the monster of a man huffed. Jon turned, and sure enough, the brute was somehow still moving. Sluggishly and slow, yes, but he was standing and the look in his eyes promised pain.

He took one staggering step forward, and Jon reacted on reflex, drawing his blasters and firing a volley of searing plasma at his target.

The same glowing barrier as before covered his skin, and the blaster bolts collided with it. With each collision, there was hiss of heat, and the Barabel seemed to stagger a little more each time, but it wasn’t enough to stop him.

Ok, no! I’m out!

Jon began backing towards the door, still firing off as many rounds as he could manage from the barrels of Shiro and Kuro. Some met their mark, others the Barabel began to dodge, apparently regaining some degree of motor control. Jon was nearly at the door.

Three more steps, and I’m home- there was a high pitched sound like tearing metal. Free?

Jon just barely had the reflexes to dodge out of the way of the metal pillar that crashed into the ground where he’d just been. The same pillar that was now blocking his exit. But how had it-?

“You don’t get away that easily,” the Barabel hissed. Jon looked and saw his opponent, his hand outstretched. Ah, of course. More krayth-spit space magic.

Slowly, the Barabel continued his advance. Jon no longer had anywhere to run.

“I uh, don’t suppose I can talk you out if this?” Jon asked as he was backed into a corner. “I mean, really, what are a few little jabs and, uh, an attempted murder or two between friends, right?”

The Barabel wrapped one large hand around Jon’s throat, and raised the other in a fist.

“It was just a joke,” Jon was able to gasp out before the massive fist collided with his face, and his vision went black.

Kashiro hissed, instinctively raising his arms to shield his face even as he steeled himself. The Force drew around him again, shielding him partially from the effects of the grenade. The concussive blast struck him with immense force, and his barrier cracked and shattered under the pressure. His endurance and training kept him on his feet but he was still disoriented from the blast.

Lowering his arms, he saw the Human Mercenary standing again, a blaster in each hand and an arrogant grin on his lips. The smile faltered for only a moment as the man struggled to breathe through injured ribs.

“You pack a hell of a punch. Sorry to say though I’m leaving, and we’re going to forget this ever happened, yeah?” Flexing his wrists in a mocking firing movement, the man began backing away towards the hangar exit.

“You have no shame,” Kashiro hissed, anger flaring again at the Human's words. The Barabel didn’t move yet, giving himself time to recover from the blast, feeling his weariness dim and slowly fade though he knew he couldn’t wait much longer.

“Listen, I don’t have any desire to have to leave a corpse behind here. Just be a good boy and stay there or Kuro and Shiro here will take you down. You’ll wake up to the Matron’s security staff if you’re lucky.” Jon took another step, glancing towards the exit for whether he could make a break for it or not.

The instant he felt the Human's gaze shift, Kashiro burst forward, sprinting towards the man. He watched as Jon mouthed another curse and began firing. The brilliant bolts struck him, barely slowing him. The Human’s eyes widened in confusion and in that instant of hesitation before his fingers flicked to the selector, shifting the blasters from stun to lethal, it was too late.

Kashiro grabbed the man’s wrists, twisting hard enough to force the blasters from his hands and sending pain shooting through the man's arms. Jon cried out and found himself slammed against the hangar wall just a few feet from the exit he had been seeking.

“Man, this is not how I wanted to die…” Jon said in a frustrated wheeze.

“I have no intention of killing you, but you should know, if you ever insult me by apologizing for beating me at cards again, I’ll rip your arms off and beat you to death with them.” Kashiro drew closer, hissing in frustration before dropping the man and turning toward the exit.

“What!?” the Human shouted in incredulous shock as he watched the Arconan leave.