The bar was packed as the lone figure walked towards it, whoops and cries of delight and dismay were easily discernible, even from outside. Even so, the crowd seemed to part as he entered, moving aside amidst whispers, although whether they were of worry or support, the figure didn’t know. It also helped that he didn’t care, and the Mandalorian Ripper he carried was worn openly on the hip of his armour.
Seugtai had long since stopped even thinking about what others thought of him. So far only a handful had done more than whisper about him behind his back, and those who had done more had swiftly met their end. Things were so much different now, one war ending, and another one ripping the Republic in two on another axis. The Mandalorian themselves were fragmented now as well, the clans scattering apart without the guidance of the Mandalore. Without the mask, they were nothing more than vagabond mercenaries.
More than he regretted the passing of time and the glories of the past, Seugtai was getting tired. He was no longer as fast as he had once been, his axe blows lacking something that they had once had in ample supply, and sometimes it felt like without the stims and cybernetic implants, he would have fallen apart long ago. His armour bore testament to this, the once nearly perfectly unblemished leather now replaced with much thicker metal, while plates of metal were now bolted to damaged spots on his helmet and shoulder pads. With every blow that he let through, his armour became a little less like that which his ancestors had once worn.
“Place your bets, place your bets!” came a voice over the bars speakers, cutting over the din of the crowd with ease, and breaking Seugtai from his reminiscing. He had come here for sport, and that was exactly what this place offered. Grabbing the drink he had ordered, Seugtai moved away from the bar.
Half barging, half walking through the vacated spaces, Seugtai made his way to the back of the bars top level, peering over the barrier that stopped people accidentally falling into the blood soaked arena below. Bones littered the sand as a pair of Gamorreans pulled away a ruined corpse.
“The next match begins in five minutes!” the announcer came over the speakers again. “We have another challenger for our reigning champion, a relative newcomer on the gladiatorial scene. Ladies and gentlemen and species who are neither, I give you, Wildfire!”
The roar of the crowd instantly grew louder as a man walked onto the arena, bedecked in thick metal armour, and bearing a host of weapons. Seugtai counted a pair of vibroblades, heavy blaster pistols, even a wrist mounted rocket launcher before the man began to cheer along with the crowd, spinning so that everyone could see him.
“I wasn’t aware they used such heavy weapons in the ring,” Seugtai muttered, a slightly drunk woman turning around as he spoke and looking at him, swaying slightly before she began to slur at him.
“Nah nah nah, it’s all right see, the champion…he doesn’t care what weapons his opponent uses….”
She trailed off as she collapsed to the floor, what was left of the drink in her hand spilling across the floor as the announcer spoke again, answering Seugtai’s question without the addition of slurring and fainting.
“Some of our newcomers may be wondering why we would allow such a heavily armed person into the arena, such a match would surely be short, and dangerous to you viewers. Let me assure you, the arena is covered by an energy shield, his blaster shots will barely even ripple the surface if they go wide, and if you think this match will be short, you will most likely be right, but not in the way you think. Honoured patrons, I give you our reigning champion, undefeated in the ring, winner of over fifty matches. I give you, The Guardian!”
If Seugtai had thought the crowd was loud when Wildfire appeared, he was in for a shock now. The crowd was deafening, his helmet quickly filtering out most of the sound as it rose to imitate the noise of a sonic attack, as the champion stepped onto the sands.
He was taller than a human, maybe even larger than a wookie, and his muscles rippled beneath his red and yellow scales. Seugtai instantly found his hand tightening around his Ripper, ready to let fly as memories of The Beast of Ranox came back to him. The Beast, Spike he thought he remembered as his true name, had become a legend in the war, one spoken of in awe and fear. Behind Revan and Meetra, he was remembered as a force of destruction and death wherever he stood, even Cassus Fett finding himself unable to best the violent Jedi.
After a brief moment however, he allowed his grip to slacken slightly. He remembered Spike well, the green and purple scales seared into his mind until the end of time. He also remembered the wings he bore, and the rumours that while Cassus hadn’t killed him, he had been forced to become more machine than organic to survive. This Guardian was clearly the same species, but he lacked the wings and Cybernetics of Seugtai’s old foe.
The next five minutes passed quickly, the announcer embellishing the reputations of both gladiators, while bets were placed on the various fighters. Seugtai saw stacks of credits change hands, and momentarily debated joining in, before thinking better of it. Credits were not in abundant supply for an aging merc, even an aging Mandalorian, and if he remembered anything about Dragons, this fight would be over quickly anyway.
“And now, honoured guests, turn your eyes towards the arena. Let, the battle, commence!”
The crowd roared again as Wildfire leapt backwards, drawing both of the pistols he carried and firing a flurry at the spot The Guardian was standing in as he did so. Before the shots could hit home however, The Guardian blurred into action himself, Seugtai only managing to keep track of him thanks to his helmet scanners.
Wildfire was obviously not blessed with such sensors, his head following after The Guardian, trailing by several seconds. Wildfire was still trying to keep track of the blur when The Guardian stopped behind him, calmly taking both of Wildfire’s swords from the sheathes, the weapons looking absurdly small in his hands. Wildfire made to turn around, to bring his blasters or rocket to bear, but he never made it.
The swords flashed in the air as they were both brought down, one slicing through Wildfire’s neck, and the other through his waist.
The crowd roared in appreciation as Wildfire fell to the ground in three separate pieces, The Guardian dropping the stolen swords as he began to look around at the crowd. Seugtai once again had tightened his hand around his own weapon, as he recognised the Jedi like combat style The Guardian had used. Before he could do anything however, The Guardian looked straight at him, locking gazes with the helmeted Mandalorian.
Before he could do anything, The Guardian let out a roar of his own, the crowd instantly falling silent at the sound, before The Guardian leapt upwards towards Seugtai. In times gone by, he would have managed to draw and fire his Ripper before The Guardian got anywhere near him, but nowadays he had barely cleared the holster before The Guardian impacted with him, grabbing him by the throat and hauling him off the floor, his drink dousing members of the crowd as he dropped it.
“Seugtai Ordo, what a surprise to see you here,” he snarled, slowly walking through the crowd to one of the walls and slamming Seugtai against it, his Ripper falling from his hands as he tried to pry the claws from around his neck.
“It’s…you…isn’t it?” he choked, locking gazes with The Guardian.
The Guardian let out a soft chuckle, before scrunching his face up slightly, pain and effort clearly written across it as Seugtai felt the claws around his neck loosen just slightly, not enough to escape however. A few second passed, before the scales on the Guardian’s face started to morph, sliding across each other and slowly changing colours. In short order, The Guardian’s face had changed completely, replaced with Spike’s true face. From the lack of gasps from the crowd, Seugtai guessed they either couldn’t see what had just happened, or had seen it enough that it no longer shocked them. He didn’t put too much thought into it though, Spike beginning to talk in his eerily familiar voice.
“How you remember it?” Spike growled, tightening his grip once more.
“Thought…you…had…cybernetics,” Seugtai gasped.
“Maybe I did once, who really cares anymore,” Spike shrugged. “Now, why shouldn’t I kill you?”
“For…what…crime?” Seugtai asked. “You…were…always a…monster…though. Why…change?”
Spike growled again, preparing to throttle the life out of the old warrior, before he felt Moonstone manifesting beside him, the crowd that were watching letting out a few cheers as she approached Spike.
“Let him go, Spike, the war’s over, there’s no point killing him.”
“It would make me feel better, this guy helped kill of the majority of the 59th,” Spike snarled.
“Yes, and you helped butcher hundreds on Ranox, and hundreds more in the war. Let, him, go,” Moonstone hissed.
Spike kept his grip as he contemplated Moonstone’s words, before sighing and loosening his grip, before scrunching up his face once again. A minute later, The Guardian let Seugtai fall to the floor, the warrior gasping before reaching for his pistol, debating firing a shot off before sighing and re-holstering it again.
“Go back to your drinks people,” The Guardian called out, his voice now different as well, looking at all the patrons. “Nothing to see here, just an old disagreement with a rival.”
The crowd let out a few murmurs, but they did what they were told, going back to their drinks and bets, the few that had bet against Spike cursing softly, as Spike turned back to Seugtai.
“What are you drinking? I think I spilled yours.”
***
“If I hadn’t seen the fact you were whole again, I wouldn’t believe any of your story,” Seugtai spoke as he finished his second drink, many hours later. “But considering you have all your limbs again, and the rest of your story adds up, I suppose I must accept it.”
“Why are we doing this?” Spike asked, still in the form of The Guardian.
“Talking?” Seugtai asked, before holding up the empty mug. “You offered to buy me a drink.”
“I mean why did I do that?” Spike sighed. “I hate you…or I should, I think. I fought against you, I lost myself to a beast to beat you, why are we not enemies?”
“War’s over, Spike, you won, I lost,” Seugtai shrugged. “I don’t hold too much of a grudge, not much point in my mind. If Mando’s held grudges against everyone they fought, we’d be forever moping around.”
“True I suppose,” Spike nodded.
“There’s one thing I want to know though,” Seugtai leaned backwards, passing his empty mug to a Rodian waitress and accepting the new one.
“Go on.”
“Why are you here?” Seugtai asked, leaning forward, resting a hand on his helmet as he spoke. “As in this arena? I get that you’re not welcome in the Republic right now, but you said you wanted to help it. I can’t see you helping from all the way in the back end of the Outer Rim.”
"No, no I suppose you’re right there,” Spike sighed, leaning back in his personal chair and contemplating his answer before speaking again.
“Credits? Getting used to new powers? The loss of my sabres? I need credits if I’m going to do anything and gladiator fights pay out well enough. I can change my plans with magic and the force is harder for me to command these days, so I have to relearn things, and I have to learn to fight with new weapons now I’ve lost mine.”
“You didn’t seem to fight with any in the arena before,” Seugtai pointed out.
“That was one fight,” Spike smirked. “I have quite a few in my quarters, if I want them.”
“That’s still not really a great reason though, is it?” Seugtai pointed out.
“I don’t have a workable plan,” Spike admitted with a sigh. “I have no authority, no power beyond my own, no ship, I can’t even tell you if any of the men who once served with me would help me out. As soon as I come up with a plan that works, I’ll get off my ass, until then, I’ll stay here and keep building up my credit reserves.”
“What if I could help you get men who don’t work for the Republic?” Seugtai asked, sipping on his drink thoughtfully.
“Then I have a place which I think would get us ships as well,” Spike replied. “You’re talking about mercs? I don’t have enough credits to hire and entire army you know. Maybe a dozen.”
“It all depends how far you’re willing to go to get back in this war, Spike,” Seugtai leaned forward.
“I’m not killing Republic soldiers to steal ships if that’s what you’re implying,” Spike growled.
“Not at all, I’m not stupid enough to suggest that to you of all people,” Seugtai chuckled. “But what about working with men and women that some would called undesirable? Criminals even?”
“You want to break criminal’s out of prison to form what? A criminal underground? Criminals are hardly a good formation for an army to support the Republic.”
“Do you have a better idea?” Seugtai folded his arms. “And as for training, I feel I have some friends who ok working for you, they’ll need payment though.”
“More Mandalorians?” Spike deadpanned? “Seugtai, I’m still not sure I like the fact that we’ve somehow ended up working together, let alone bringing in more of your kind. Besides, I got a bit of a reputation in the war, you know it already, if these other Mandalorians found out that I’m that Spike, it would cause more trouble than it’s worth.”
“Fine, no Mandalorians,” Seugtai shrugged. “Maybe we should discuss this in a more private area?”
“Come on then,” Spike stood up, nodding his head towards a door marked employees only. “My quarters are about as secure a place I have. We can discuss what your idea is, and how much you’re going to wring out of me.”
“Perfect,” Seugtai smirked, grabbing his helmet and following after Spike.