Kriff That

A New Threat:

Captain Hark and his fellow Super Commandoes were feeling rather like the rotten yogans in the bushel of fruit. Almost every single Mando in the camp was giving them dirty looks and avoiding them like they carried the plague. A few had even gone so far as to spit at their feet, one of the worst insults you could deal a fellow Mando.

After ten minutes of this, Jett came to the conclusion that it was time for drastic measures. He needed a paint gun and he needed one now. All this Imperial white needed to go. And getting rid of the Imperial symbols on their bodysuits wouldn't hurt either. White was a rare colour on Mandalorian armour for a reason that went back millennia; it was too shabla easy to see.

And right now, he and his men felt like walking targets.

He'd like to just fly home to the Saxon Stronghold, but Jett was now stuck in a strange limbo position. He'd declared loyalty to the new Mand'alor, but aside from him and his men, there were no other Saxons here. Which meant the clan was not allied with her. At least not yet. He fully intended to change that.

With Tiber Saxon now assuredly deceased, the rightful heir of the Countship fell back to Gar Saxon's son, Drago, but the boy was only ten years old; much too young to lead. The next two in line had been cousins, but they'd both been killed yesterday by the Wrens before the Duchess had done its vile work. The power vacuum at the Saxon stronghold would cause a great deal of chaos as soon as people found out, which he assumed would be very shortly. Bad news had a way of travelling in the speediest of fashions despite all the odds against it.

Jett had every intention of filling that power vacuum and taking over as Count of Clan Saxon. But it was best if he bid his time, letting the other power seekers fight each other first, wearing themselves out. With the right timing, he should be able to walk right in, challenge whoever was left standing, and take command.

So that meant he was going to stay here for a day or so and make nice with the other clans. But they weren't going trust him as long as he looked like an Imperial.

With his men trailing behind him, Jett made his way back to Mand'alor Kryze's vicinity, wishing he'd never left it in the first place. At least when they were near her, people left them alone.

She was currently talking to Fenn Rau and Alrich Wren of all people. Just his luck. The leader of the Protectors was bound to have a hate on for him for what he'd done under orders to the Protectors, and he'd been taunting Wren about seeing Sundari for the last time just yesterday while on their way to the man's scheduled public execution. Karma was really coming around to bite him on the shebs now, wasn't it?

Telling himself to suck it up, he approached the group and interrupted their conversation when there was a hint of a pause in it. "Pardon me, my Lady, but I was wondering if you happened to have a supply of black and red paint lying around somewhere?"

All three of them turned their focus on him and his men, a light of understanding dawning in their eyes as they took in the white armour and Imperial symbols, and the nasty looks being cast at their group from anyone how happened to glance their way.

"I'm afraid I do not," Kryze said in apology.

Rau crossed his arms over his chest and just looked smug, the bastard. He was enjoying this. "Serves you right for following Saxon and what you did to my men."

"I only followed the orders of my Count and Governor like a good Mando," Jett replied, crossing his arms in return. "It was nothing personal."

Rau raised a brow in blatant disbelief for a moment. "So Bo-Katan was telling me. I find that hard to believe, but I will accept that for now. It's the only reason I'm not calling you out as we speak. But if you ever give me any reason to doubt your loyalty to our new Mand'alor, I will kill you."