When you are traversing the wild and untouched landscapes of the savannah, just remind yourself that you are never the apex predator. The vast and desolate area of sand, rocks, dead and ancient trees are all the same blood-orange color for a simple reason: to hide your worst nightmare from your sight, the Akul. A large, quadrupedal and orange furred mammal, the Akul are the top predators that hunt all sorts of bovine, dog, hooved and giant mammals. Using their extraordinary sense of smell, they can trace your scent from days long past and track you down without mercy.

Throughout the Savannah, tall and wispy Turu-grass stretches out into long ranging fields. Watering holes are sparse and spread thin, and the terrain offers little safety from the blazing sun that hangs overhead. When the sun retreats and gives way to moonlight, the Savannah becomes almost chill, but the night is dark and full of wild creatures. In the Savannah, it’s hunt or be hunted.

The wind didn't mask the sound of the rocket in the night sky reaching Jon’s ears. The merc looked up from the brim of his hat to see two armored figures approach from the horizon. One was in mandalorian armor and held a blaster rifle at the ready, he landed about 10 meters away from where Jon stood. The other was a droid that descended at 5 meters away, and It too held a blaster rifle aimed at Jon.

He looked over to the side with a smirk and put his hands up.

"I'm impressed," he called out, "Did the price of my bounty go up?"

"Direct Order. Disarm yourself, any movement to do otherwise will be met with force," HK commanded.

"I'm not holding any weapon," Jon goaded.

The droid paused for a moment, “Direct Order. Remove the vambraces and the blade at your hip."

"How about you come over here and remove them yourself," Jon said with an attitude.

The droid shot Jon with a stun round that brought him to the ground unconscious. The droid approached him, and extended the bo rifle into an electrostaff to poke at the body. After no response, it looked for a way to remove the vambraces from Jon's arm. This woke Jon from his unconscious state. He saw the droid and immediately remembered the situation he was in. With a clench of his fist and a curl of his wrist a blaster bolt fired from his vambrace and into the droid's head. It hit an area where it was less armored and damaged some of the internal wiring, and the head seemed motionless. Jon released a grappling line around the droid’s torso and an arm and pulled it to him to shield the incoming fire from the mandalorian.

Stun rings simply dissipated against the droid's backpiece. Creon hesitated to switch to real plasma bolts; any damage done to the droid would be at his expense and he had a feeling HK wasn’t completely done. His suspicions were confirmed when the droid used its one free hand to resist Jon's attempt to draw its pistol. Jon eventually tried to pull his arm away, but the droid locked its grip on his wrist. Jon roared in frustration and with his free vambrace he brought fire to the damaged area near its head. He went for the pistol again, freed it from its holster, fired a flurry of plasma blindly into the savannah with it. He aimed in in the general direction he had last saw the mandalorian, but all he saw was a field of grass.

A red glowing hue appeared in the grass in front of him followed by the sound of a lightsaber igniting twice. He turned and fired at the approaching mandalorian. Each round was deflected by the spinning plasma blades and flew in random directions across the savannah. Jon observed something interesting at death’s approach. The armored warrior no longer had his rifle nor Jetpack attached to him, only the lightsaber. Jon knew how to fly a jetpack.

Creon pointed his ‘saber at Jon while the latter crouched in the grass a few meters from where the Jedi stood. Neither moved as the wind blew through the grass.

“Last chance Jon,” Creon called to his friend, and one-time captain, his voice amplified by the speaker in his helmet. “Come quietly.”

“Oh you know me, Cre,” Jon said lightly, even as his eyes, hidden as they were beneath the wide brim of his hat, darted around their impromptu battlefield. A slapdash plan was cobbling itself together in his mind. A haphazard and desperate one, of course, but then, what other kind did he ever come up with?

“I never do anything quietly.”

Jon’s body sprung into action all at once - one hand reached into his belt and pulled a pair of daggers free, even as his legs launched into a sprint towards the Jedi.

Creon spun his lightsaber in an arc, slashing all three knives out of the air in an instant - and splattering the now-molten steel across his visor.

Creon swore as his vision was impaired by the orange heated glow; the metal might’ve protected him from damage, but he could still feel the searing heat soaking through, however muted.

Jon, meanwhile, never gave up his momentum. As Creon moved to rip the helmet from his head, the mercenary ducked around him, to where he’d seen the discarded jetpack land.

“Get back here, Jon!” the former-captain heard Creon’s now clear voice call out, and knew he was out of time, but he could see the discarded pack lying a few meters in front of him. He leapt forward, and hit the ground in a roll.

Creon saw Jon tumbling across the ground. Had the man tripped? Creon rushed across the grassy fields to where he saw Jon go down. Just before he reached it, though, his ears were met with the splitting shriek of a rocket activating, and he watched Jon lift off of the ground.

“Been nice catching up with you, Creon!” Jon called out even while his momentum climbed. “We’ll have to do it again some time!”