as written by The Afterman, and Tiko
It was evening when he decided to make his move. He had spent some hours scouring a map of the city, looking for potential escape routes. His interest fell upon a river that passed directly through the city; it was a risky option, but figured he'd be much safer under the cover of the dimming sunlight.
He donned another disguise, wearing a turban and a surgical mask, pretending that he was masking himself from the radiation and plague that had been reported as being a potential threat to the public. Other than that, he wore a ragged set of clothes that included a brown sports jacket, perfect for concealing his blaster pistol.
He kept his hands in his pockets and his head down, looking ahead only enough to see where he was going as he made his way to the riverbed. He had made one last call to his Jupiter Corporation contacts with his comm. link before ditching the blasted thing in a dumpster some miles back; he couldn't risk the encryption being broken, not at this stage in the game.
He had given his rescuers the coordinates for a rendezvous that he had plotted via the map he had, and planned on meeting up with them come nightfall. It would be a long walk beside the river, but he was determined to get out of here alive.
And with the increasing discord that came with the destruction they had caused, getting out was looking like a not-so-hopeless effort after all.
____
It had been hours. His legs were tired, the soles of his feet sore. He hadn't eaten in quite some time, and he felt his stomach rebel against him, demanding sustenance before the acids threatened to boil a hole through his intestines.
Nightfall had fallen some time ago, the stars dotting the black expanse of the sky like millions of little fireflies lighting up the endless void of space. The moon shone down bright, illuminating the world below like a giant floodlight, giving Thalgan good visibility despite the dark shroud of night engulfing the land around him.
He had finally reached the shoreline, his body riddled with aches, ready for some much-needed rest. However, he needed to get clear of the mainland before he was clear of any danger. Looking out over the water, he wondered if he were in any condition to swim out as far as he had told them to meet up at. His breaths were, despite his healthy physicality, quite heavy and laden with exhaustion. He doubted he had it in him to brave the waters.
He'd likely just drown.
With a defeated sigh, he cast his gaze off the right, shaking his head as his eyes met...salvation.
Across the way, driven up onto the sands of the shore, rested a series of jet skis; no doubt the property of some thrill-seeking locals or vacationing tourists. His eyes lit up as they fell upon the assembled watercraft. He knew full well how to operate vehicles such as these, and took it upon himself to comandeer the nearest one to him, breaking open the ignition switch and beginning to perform a hotwire.
Unfortunately the cloak of darkness was both a boon and a hindrance all in one. With a strict curfew over the city in the wake of the terrorist attack, he would lose the cover of the crowds as evening gave way to night.
It was for this fact that his actions caught the eye of one of the many pairs of officers patrolling the beaches and nearby docks.
"Hey, you there," the officer hollered. "Hands up, and turn around slowly!"
They drew their side-arms and kept their flashlights trained on him.
He froze as the lights engulfed his frame, slowly raising his hands above his head and taking a step back from the jet ski. "Don't move!" one of the officers demanded. He could hear their footsteps crunching in the sand beneath their feet, edging closer to him at the tick of every second.
Soon, only one pair of footsteps was heard, and he could discern the sound of a gun being holstered as the arresting officer brandished a set of handcuffs, taking one of the Mandalorian's arms and attempting to restrain it within the alloy shackles.
He would find his suspect to be more combative than anticipated; as the officer placed his hand on Thalgan's wrist, the Mandalorian yanked downward, causing the officer to stumble, while he simultaneously gripped the cop by his left shoulder, spinning him into the front of his person and holding him there, a prisoner to his will.
From behind the wall the officer provided him, Thalgan was able to take his opposite hand and draw his blaster, aiming it over his captive's shoulder, squeezing the trigger quickly and harshly before the other officer had time to fire up his radio. The first bolt from the weapon struck the man in the left-side breast.
The second found itself between his eyes.
After the first officer's body collapsed into the sand, Thalgan trained his weapon to the side of the cop's head, his finger already halfway to initiating another shot. "Please don't kill me. I got kids. Just let me go, please. Ple-"
His begging was cut short by a hot plasma bolt decimating his cranium, blowing a cauterized hole into the side of his head; the man was dead before he even knew what had happened.
Dropping his prey, Thalgan returned to his business, firing up the jet ski in a few short moments. Once the vehicle roared to life, he pushed it into the water, gunning the engine and making his way to the waters beyond the shore, the jet ski splitting the waters it now tread, the seawater spray ejecting behind him as he barreled towards the agreed upon coordinates.
____
The jet ski sat dead in the water, having run out of gas some miles back. He was left floating now, his arms resting above the handlebars as he stared out into the blackness of the night, the waters around him reflecting the glow of the celestial bodies beyond the sky.
He was beginning to grow agitated; did they forget? Was he in the right place? Were they in the right place? His uneasiness swelled as the minutes wore on. This was his last chance to be clear of the city.
If he were to be discovered now, then it would all be over.
Suddenly, he was bathed in the blinding glow of a boat's searchlight, causing him to raise a hand to shield his eyes from the illumination. His first thought was that this had to have been a patrolling vessel, come to take him down and incarcerate him.
However, as the boat neared, it began to pull up to the side, killing the oppressive light it had shone upon him moments before. Eventually, it had pulled over parallel to Thalgan's position, close enough to allow the Mandalorian to board.
Standing at the starboard side was a
very large man who held an outstretched hand for Thalgan to grab onto. The Mandalorian did so without hesitation, feeling the man's immense strength as he was pulled over the edge of the boat and onto the deck.
Regaining his balance, Thalgan looked up at the man. "Thalgan Vash, I presume. My name is Veshi Basara. We're getting out of here, now." With that, he made a waving motion with his hand, letting the boat captain know to turn around and sail away to the north.
"It's good to have you back. Members of the Corporation have been talking about your exploits. It's good to finally meet the man behind the murmurs." Thalgan couldn't help but plaster a smirk across his face. He felt rather proud of himself that he was attracting the attention that he was.
For now, however, he was primarily focused on being free of Volary.