Wayward Child

This wasn’t the sort of contract Tronn liked to take.  It was a last resort, one he had warned his target about time and time again.  Unfortunately, sometimes children never listened and preferred dabbling in crime than listening to the sage advice of a parent.  Crime paid well, but they needed to know that it often led to a very short lifespan.  Not that Tronn would be the one putting it to a swift end; he preferred to haul their shebse to prison and let that lesson slowly sink in.  It was the closest thing to a long term timeout that worked for his adult offspring.

Kazakkon had last been seen on Nal Hutta, right in the thick of criminal activity.  Tronn suspected he was working for a hutt family.  They paid handsomely, and they were always in need of someone who was skilled with killing people.  They went through bounty hunters and mercenaries like refresher paper.

Given Kazakkon’s travel history from what Tronn could gather, he had been hopping around in Hutt Space, along with other areas known for their less than legal dealings.  Doing some work for Seppies, a holofeed he had pulled off of Oba Diah showing a very cut and dry murder, a glimpse of that familiar red face of his involving a shootout on Kessel...the boy was certainly digging himself into a very deep grave.  Zea had offered to come along, but Tronn told her he wished to do this alone.  She’d seen that look in his eye and hadn’t tried to change his mind.  He’d done this before, sometimes with the worst possible results.  There only needed to be one person with blood on their hands.

He’d done some asking around and mapped out where Kazakkon most frequented.  Plenty of cantinas and gambling houses well within the vicinity of Bilbousa.  His employers were keeping a loose leash on him, but a leash nonetheless.  Either the boy was ignoring that or was fine with the rewards he was reaping for his masters.

Tronn made a show of popping up in areas so that his son would see him in the holofeeds.  He made it a point of letting him know he was there in his unmistakable black and green beskar’gam, then blazed a trail to one of the more crowded marketplaces.  If he didn’t follow, he’d try another tactic.  If he did...they’d have that little talk very soon.  

---

Kazakkon knew his father was nearby.  The old man was quick and smart, but he wasn’t stupid enough to go traipsing around in public areas and linger on holocam feeds unless it was for a purpose.  And that purpose was that he wanted him to know he was there.  His father had done this before with other children who strayed too far.  Kaz knew that the old man readily took bounties on his own offspring to haul them in before anyone else could.  It seemed oddly selfish of him to do that, reaping benefits from his kin, but then again he came from a strange family.  

All he knew was that he wasn’t going to be one of the unlucky ones caught and thrown into prison while his father counted his harvest of credits with satisfaction.  

The marketplace was loud and busy, hawkers competing in volume to see who could screech the loudest about their wares, speeders, ‘bikes, and a motley assortment of pack animals crowding the thoroughfare as foot traffic peeled around them.  Kaz thought he saw the old man’s dark armor near a stand, and carefully began to wend his way that direction.  

It might have been a trap, but he didn’t care.  The old man had trained him since he was a toddler on how to stay in the shadows and spring on someone at the last moment.  He owed it to him for being able to take down as many people as he had for the jobs he did now.  Besides, his father was old.  He’d no doubt be slower than he’d been when he’d taught Kaz those techniques.

The black and green armor disappeared, eliciting a curse from Kaz.  He didn’t want him to fade away and then show up to harass him again.  He wanted to get this out in the open right now.  As the crowd moved forward, he made out a narrow alleyway that seemed like the perfect hiding spot for the old man.  Kaz frowned.  He’d rather face him out in the open than in a space where his father could have the advantage.

He could feel the people around him bumping and jostling as they wove by, traffic growing thicker.  Then he saw the armor again, this time in a side street with tarps and decorations strung across windows to add shade, and perhaps a little character to the surroundings.  Kaz shoved his way that direction, walking stiffly as he expected the old man to launch an attack.  This area wasn’t as heavily populated with pedestrians, more shadows hiding doorways and alleys.  A nuna came chattering down the street, eyes wild and feathers ruffled as it gibbered on by.

Kaz wouldn’t have suspected that as a distraction.

The attack came from nowhere.  An arm wrapped around his throat, locking him in place while he felt pressure pinch the side of his neck.  He tried to struggle, but the nerve pinch was already taking effect, blacking out the corners of his vision.

“Good to see you too, ad’ika,” his father muttered.

Kaz was unconscious before he could even think of a response.

—

He woke up on a firm yet soft surface, his wrists feeling stiff and sore.  As Kaz slowly regained consciousness, he realized he was handcuffed.  The room he was in had to be the smallest cabin on his father’s ship.  That, or he’d retrofitted one of the storage lockers as a holding cell.  It would certainly explain the cramped quarters.

Kaz rolled up onto his side, squirming around to see what else was available to him.  In the corner was a small refresher and a sink, and that was about it.  The door had no window that he could make out, though it was possible there was a two-way one embedded in there somewhere.

“Well look who’s up,” a voice remarked, crackling in the room and giving Kaz a start.

Some sort of speaker system, coming from the ceiling judging by where the voice emanated from.  His tensed shoulders relaxed just a bit.

“It should be illegal to arrest your own kids,” he growled, easing himself to his feet to try to see if there were any weak areas to the cell.  There weren’t.  The old man was always thorough.

“Funny coming from someone who’s been enjoying pulling so many illegal jobs,” the voice shot back. “Be happy it’s me hauling your shebs in and not some other bounty hunter.  You’ve got a hell of a lot of “dead or alive” bounties on you, Son.”

“You gonna hide behind that comm the whole trip?”

The door shot open so fast that Kaz—much to his annoyance—jumped again, spinning around to face the silhouette of his father as he stood in the glowing rectangle that led to freedom.  The old man lurched forward, fury on his face.  Kaz briefly entertained the thought that he’d be brought in dead seeing that glare directed at him as he stumbled backwards.  The back of his knees hit the cot right as his father grabbed him by the collar of his tunic, eyes blazing.

“You’ve got no right to go mouthing off after the osik you’ve been steeped in.  You best keep those little remarks to yourself, you hear?  You’re damn lucky I caught you first.  Nobody else cares if some punk gets shot in the face, but I do, especially when he’s my son.  So, yes, I’ll stick my neck out for you to make sure that you stay alive and grow a brain, but this is the absolute last time I’m yanking you out of the fire.  I’ve been furious about what you’ve been doing, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t kriffing angry at you now--”

He shook his head, eyes narrowed to a squint.  Kaz saw the muscles in the old man’s cheeks tremble.

“--I’m disappointed, Ad’ika.  You broke your old buir’s heart and you keep on smashing it to pieces.”

Kaz wheeled backwards, suddenly shoved away.  He dropped down on the cot after banging into it to try to stop his momentum, staring up at his father and waiting for the man to let into him with his fists rather than his words.  The old man’s clenched fists, however, remained at his sides, his face hidden in shadow from the light spilling in from the hall beyond.

“I hope you’re happy,” he muttered, turned and left, the door sliding into place behind him with a click as the locks bolted down.

Kaz released the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding, his whole body feeling tense from the outburst.  He didn’t want to say that he was intimidated at all by the old man’s actions or words.  He was trying to manipulate him into feeling guilty, like he’d done time and again when he was a child.  They had the same results though.  All that he had said stung.  He knew his father would have been mad, and disappointed, but saddened?  Somehow that hadn’t filtered into the set list of emotions that he knew an upset parent would exhibit.  Kaz hunched over on the cot, feeling lower than an intestinal parasite.