Avian Gamers Network

( *NOTE* This is an open RP story. Feel free to jump in if you feel the urge to do so. )



Angus put down the laser welder and closed his eyes as he rubbed his temples. The headaches never seemed to go away completely, despite what the doctors had said. The ocular implants were perfect in every detail, appearing just as his real eyes once had, but the small batteries that powered them gave off just enough EM to cause the headaches. They powered down when his eyes closed for a certain length of time, and that usually made the headaches start to abate a bit, but the sound of approaching footsteps made it clear that he'd have to deal with it just a little while longer.

Opening his eyes, he turned to see a familiar Twi'lek face. Familiar, but almost always unwelcome. Bib Fortuna only made personal appearances when things were about to hit the fan, or when Jabba was in his usual bad mood and wanted to make sure his message was delivered quickly... which usually meant big trouble, as well.

"Well, well... " Angus began. "Must be something big going down for Jabba to send you personally. Or have you finally decided to follow through on your threat to kill me from the last time I saw you?"

The last part was entirely said sarcastically, but Angus still lowered his hand to the blaster at his side, just in case. Hey, better to be safe than sorry, right? Paranoia can keep you alive.

"If Master Jabba ever decides to dispense with your services we shall see." the Twi'lek scowled. "However, this time I just bring a message. He has heard rumors of a bounty hunter that has taken a contract on you from the Empire itself. Since he still considers you a valuable employee, he was gracious enough to give you this information."

Angus spat on the ground near Bib's feet. "How many times do I gotta say it? I ain't an employee... I'm an independant contractor." he sneered a bit, then considered the Hutt's message. "It's not the first time I've had a hunter on my ass. Kinda strange that the Empire would hire one, though."

"Perhaps it has something to do with the munitions you've been smuggling to the Alliance during the last year." Fortuna grinned. "Risky business, that. I'm surprised Vader hasn't come for you personally."

Angus narrowed his eyes at him. "How do you know about that? And more importantly, how did the Empire get that information?"

The Twi'lek nearly choked as he cleared his throat. "Master Jabba knows all about it, he makes a point of knowing who is smuggling what. He likes to know what his competition is up to." He started taking a few steps backward. "And as for the information leak, perhaps you should talk to your Rebel friends. Now, I really have to leave. Jabba is expecting me back very soon."

"Fine." Angus said with a dangerous tone. "You run off to your master. And if I find out you had anything to do with this, Jabba or no Jabba, you're gonna come up on the short end of this deal. The short, pointy end. Understand?"

Fortuna nearly sprinted out the door without a reply, leaving Angus to mutter curses after him. The fact was, he was in no shape to fend off another bounty hunter attack right now. His new ship, while a wonderful piece of equipment, was half diasassembled in the hangar because of the modifications he was making. And time would no doubt be of short supply.

Looking around at the mess, he sighed. "Looks like I'm going to need a hand with this after all." He took another look at all of the scattered part laying around the ship. "Maybe quite a few hands."

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With a sigh, Angus turned and walked out of the hangar, leaving his ship in the very capable hands of the Avian Shipyard team. Thanks to the massive amount of credits he made from "modifying" a few large shipments of battle armor and transporting them to a couple of Alliance outposts, he was sparing no expense on the Black Rain II, though it still pained him to not have his hands in it's refit.

After a shuttle hop and a couple of transport rides, he found himself stepping out into the Mos Eisley starport. The heat didn't bother him as much as some of the others getting off the ship because he came here quite often and had nearly gotten used to the constant heat, and his ocular implants compensated for the bright glare. But he was sweating nonetheless because ever since he left Talus he felt like he had a target painted on his back. The Empire didn't screw around when they were desperate enough to hire Bounty Hunters, they hired the absolute best, and paid them extremely well. Which meant that Angus would have to find some kind of hole to hide in for a while until the heat died down. But first he had to let Jabba know he'd be incommunicado for a while, which most likely wouldn't sit too well with the moody Hutt.

He tried to be inconpicuous as he left the starport and made his way to a row of nondescript parking garages on the edge of town. It was all he could do to refrain from checking behind him every ten meters to see if he was being followed. When he finally arrived in front of the garage stall that he rented, he raised his hand to key in his access code when something caught his eye and he stopped cold.

Normally when he came here after a few months of being gone, the sand piled up in front of the garage door a good 5 centimeters or more. When the door was opened, the sand was blown away by air jets so that it didn't track inside and foul up any machinery that may be within. When he looked down at the ground, the sand was nowhere near the door. Licking his lips, he took a few awkward steps back, his hand reflexively resting on the grip of his DL-44. He turned fluidly and walked across the street to a small droid repair shop, wiping sweat from his forehead as he entered.

"Hot enough for ya?" the scruffy human shopkeeper asked, looking up from an ancient repair droid he was intently working on.

"Yeah." Angus forced a small smile. "I can never seem to get used to the heat here."

"Come to Tatooine much?"

"Once in a while, when I'm feeling sadistic." Angus chuckled. "Look, I've got an old droid in storage here that I need to get looked at. I'm also thinking about getting a new one, too."

"Yeah?" the shopkeeper perked up. "What's wrong with your droid?"

"I'm not really sure. It's an old astromech that loses power every once in a while. Usually at the worst possible times, too."

"Hmm. Doesn't sound too serious. I'll send one of my droids to fetch it while we talk about what kind of new droid you're thinking about."

"Sounds good to me." Angus smiled. When the utility droid showed up, he gave it the access code to the garage and instructed it where to go. When the droid left the shop, Angus turned to the merchant. "I am thinking about getting a repair droid for my ship. It's a temperamental thing, and I'm not all that handy with a spanner, if you know what I mean, so I need the best repair droid I can get."

"Well, I don't have anything like that in stock right now..." the old man scratched his chin. "But I know where I can get my hands on one. It isn't going to be cheap, however."

"How much are we talking about?" Angus began. At that moment a huge explosion shook the store, blowing out the front windows, sending the old man diving under the counter.

"Shit." Angus muttered under his breath and glanced out of the broken window, making sure to keep himself hidden. His rented garage was totally blown away, the remains of his AV-21 smouldering in the crater that remained. As the shopkeeper brushed past him to see what happened, Angus caught movement out of the corner of his eye. A squadron of Imperial Stormtroopers was hurrying over to the garage with a very familiar looking figure walking slowly and alertly behind them.

"Double shit." Angus cursed. There was no mistaking the Bounty Hunter striding toward the wreckage clad in his prized set of Mandalorian armor. It seemed that once again, Boba Fett was after him.

It didn't take him long to find the back door to the shop, and not much longer to steal a beat-up landspeeder. He left town as fast as it could carry him, heading towards Anchorhead. His mind was racing the entire time.

Angus knew Fett, all right. They had met twice before after a rival smuggling outfit had hired the Bounty Hunter to eliminate their competition. The first time, Angus' old partner Sarrik has saved his skin. Teras Kasi Masters really came in handy to have as friends. The second time, Angus escaped Fett out of sheer luck and a lot of fancy flying. Angus had cancelled the contract the good old-fashioned way, by killing the one who took out the contract on him. Bounty Hunters tended not to work for dead people who couldn't pay them.

But this time was different. There was no way to stop Fett short of killing him, now that the Empire was paying the bill. And the thought of it chilled him to the bone, even in this heat. Fett was injured in their last meeting, and he was sure to be taking this bounty personally. He wasn't pulling any punches, as the bomb in the garage proved. It seemed like it was time for Angus MacGregor to disappear.

Going to Jabba was out of the question now. The Hutt made a good living by playing the odds, and they were definitely in the Bounty Hunter's favor on this one. Jabba would probably cut his losses and try to collect on some of the bounty money himself. Hiding out in Avian City was too risky. Lots of people knew he lived there. That only left one place for him to go.

He made it to Anchorhead without incident, and managed to make his way off-planet aboard an ancient freighter. From there, he hopped a few more planets before arriving at his destination.

"You know, I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes." a familiar deep voice cut him short as he stepped off of the ship's passenger exit. He turned toward the voice and smiled as he faced a bald human that towered over him.

"Hello, Dax." Angus said, looking up to meet his old friend's eyes. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you knew I was coming."

The large man grinned. "The transport pilot is one of us. It's common procedure for him to transmit the passenger manifest when he arrives in this system. I noticed one of your aliases. We're a little paranoid about Imperial spies here."

"Yeah, I can imagine." Angus said as he glanced around the hangar. It was overfilled with Alliance fighters, most of them looking the worse for wear. "Looks like you've been seeing your fair share of action, lately."

"You ain't seen the half of it." the large man sighed. "The Empire has been beefing up patrols in this sector. It won't be long until we're going to have to move again. This area's just getting a little too hot. Most of our pilots are kids and rookies, and too many of them are getting killed before they can get cocky and experienced like you and I."

"Need a hand?" Angus frowned just a little as he said it. It actually took a lot for him to get the words out.

Dax looked at him hard for a moment before replying. "You sure about this? I mean, we've appreciated all you've done for us, buddy... but you've always been a solo operator."

Angus nodded slowly. "Make the call. I'll temporarily upgrade my status to Active, but my price is a new identity. Angus has to die, there's just too much heat on him. I'll need new identification, flawless background records, and some cosmetic alterations. Use this name." Angus handed him a small slip of paper.

Dax took it and glanced at it for a moment. "Consider it done. What kind of fighter are you going to want, Colonel?"

Angus nearly winced at the title, and sighed knowing there were a lot of things in his future that he'd have to adjust to. "Fighters aren't my style, you know that. I'll be using my own ship. And she'll fly circles around anything the Imps can throw at me."

Dax chuckled a bit before putting a hand on Angus' shoulder. "I bet she will. This is cause for celebration! Drinks are on me, old friend."

Angus just shook his head and sighed. "Buddy, they don't pay you enough to buy the drinks I'll be having tonight."

The large man just laughed as they began walking out of the hangar.

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