Pirates are a rowdy lot. It is a fact rarely questioned and merely accepted by those who deal with them regularly. While the Herald’s crew is no different, the band's leader has a different approach to facilitating their tendencies. To this end, one of the Matron's smaller hangars — designated Hangar Zerek — has been recommissioned as a combat arena... or execution chamber.

Once a dedicated repair bay, Hangar Zerek is still equipped with fabricator arms and an assortment of Trade Federation droid parts that have fallen into disrepair. A squared off section, including illumination banks at each corner, designates the intended arena. The section is denoted by active shock fences, run by nearby generators. It is here that the crew lets off steam, with the hangar bay sealed.

The hangar itself still has a fully functioning force field that comes into play when matches are meant to become more interesting, or when it comes time to jettison troublesome captives. The hangar bay doors peel open, leaving only the active field to separate the arena from the vacuum of space. The control mechanisms for the hangar doors can be operated manually from the control booth or on a set timer, including the force field's toggle switch.

The control booth is the last segment of Hangar Zerek worth noting. Doubling as an observation deck, it is the only obvious entrance to the hangar. All maintenance hatches and access-ways have been sealed in advance, though the catwalks crisscrossing along the upper layers of the hangar remain. The booth itself is sealed, providing a safe haven for when the force field comes down.

Aru Law sat on a crate with a purple cloak he had thrown over it to provide comfort. He was enjoying a drink while watching the current bout in the arena of Hangar Zerek. He had bet a friendly sum of credits on the Togorian, who was facing a rather large Clawdite.

The Togorian lost the match, to his disappointment, which didn’t go unnoticed by a passing man. A tall man, fully dressed in the distinguishable Mandalorian style armor, stopped besides the crate Aru was sitting on.

“Lost your money on the fights?” The man’s voice was slightly muffled by the helmet he wore, but clearly deep and with a certain touch of grace.

The Qel-Droman Aedile looked up, grasping the entirety of the armor the mysterious man wore.

“Did my losses pay for your drink?” he joked.

“Oh, no. I don’t bet on such foolish games.”

“Yeah, right, it isn’t your way,” the Arconan said. “Tell me, for I don’t get to ask this to many Mandos I come by: is it true what they say about you?”

The man, intrigued by the question, amused Aru. “And what would that be? Of our prowess in battle?”

“That you sleep,” the look on the Gray Jedi’s eyes and his smirk hinted at anything but sleeping, “with your helmets on?”

The Mandalorian stiffened.

“Listen, pal! There’s a line you don’t cross.” The armoured man clenched his fist. “Perhaps I should teach you some manners.”

“I’ve lost count to how many times I heard that," Aru mocked, “but fine. What about we settle this over there.” He waved his head towards the arena. “Don’t worry, you can keep your helmet on.”

“I accept your challenge,” the Mandalorian responded, brimming with confidence.

---

“Over by the dazzling blue corner,” the hovering Dug announcer yelled through the speaker, “weighing two-hundred and twenty pounds, Creon Okemi!”

Creon stood motionless, just waiting to get it over with, dressed nothing but his pants he usually wore below the armor. He also kept his helmet, staying ever truthful to his creed.

“And over by the flashing red corner, weighing one-hundred and eighty pounds, Aru Law!”

The Arconan had taken off his shirt and robe, allowing his cybernetic left arm to shine under the arena lights.

“Without further ado,” the announcer said as he flew away from the arena, “begin!”

Immediately the Mandalorian lunged forward and threw a punch directly at Aru’s face, which he dodged by stepping back. Adopting a strong base stance, Aru spread his knees apart from each other and lowered his center of gravity. True to his defence studies, he raised his arms, both palms pointing towards Creon as he awaited the next strike.

The larger and more muscled man strived to keep mobile, changing his stance several times to distract his opponent, but always keeping his guard up. Creon threw his challenger two face-level punches and finished with one kick with his left leg.

Aru diverted both punches away from him, using his palms and blocked the kick with his right arm. The kick, however, was stronger than he anticipated, causing him some pain on his arm.

As he shook his aching arm, Creon took the opportunity to attack again. This time, the Arconan was forced to jump backwards in order to avoid being hit by a large punch.

Creon was pinning Aru down near the electric fence, a place he did not want to touch. The Gray Jedi lowered his stance even more, baiting a low kick from his opponent. Aru took the opportunity to roll away from the kick and the fence, putting some distance between him and his adversary.

Back in the center of the arena, Aru adopted a more formal stance, almost mimicking a bow. His palms were now turned upwards and away from each other, one near his face, and the other stretched forward.

Creon stepped forward very quickly and threw a punch, but his arm was grabbed by Aru Law who then spun behind him and tried to knock him down. He was unable to move the towering man, however, and was caught off guard, having no response to the elbow strike to his chest.

Gasping for air, Aru stumbled, but recovered his footing due to his solid stance.

“You’re good,” the Gray Jedi acknowledged, “but we’ve only just begun.”

“The way you fight shows lack of training, or even motivation," Creon explained with dismissal in return, “This will be over quickly.”