Once out of the tunnel, Vilkas stumble upon a street flanked with what was once two rows of gardens.
Out of the things he had found surprising with these advanced cities was that sometimes they actually taken time and effort to put a bit of nature within their settlements however big or small.
Such commitment made Vilkas consider in his travels that perhas some aliens actually respect nature though not in the same way his people do.
Yet the one in front of him however was engulfed in blood and devastation like all of the besieged city.
Many of the trees were either burning or just torn down. The once green and fertile soil was scarred with blacken craters, falling weapons of various types, and worse all, corpses.
With great caution, Vilkas walked closer to the scene.
Part of him wished he had taken another route, but the hunter figure knew its too late to turn back now, so in the other words he will have to endure it.
He try to keep his senses straight, looking out for trouble but the hellish scene before him was grabbing his attention even more.
In the sidewalk he tread on Vilkas noticed on several lampposts, men and women were hung by the neck with ropes.
They were already dead, Vilkas can plainly see but there were whiteboard signs place on their lifeless chests as well. The letters in basic were written in big bold prints.
One on his nearest left said I AM A TRAITOR, then to the right I AM A PROFITEER.
Moving further up, Vilkas saw similar words written in the other placates but at the last post which had a young Zabrak male hung over it made him pause.
The supposed offender was listed as I AM A FOREIGNER.
Vilkas grew more disgusted with what's going on with this place, this city, and even this whole planet.
Does any of these people here have any shred of honor? It was a question that was haunting him now.
Hearing loud and cruel laughter a few yards away, Vilkas got off the small road and used the dead trees and bushes on the right side as cover.
Readying his rifle, Vilkas crouched and ran for the source of this.
In the back of his mind, the bounty hunter felt that he wasn't going to like what's awaiting him.
Keeping himself out of sight, Vilkas carefully peer through a few branches of a dry up bush he was behind in.
What he saw was something he should have expected by now but still hated all the same.
A band of five human soldiers, wearing blackish fatigues and skull painted markings on them were looting the bodies of what appeared to have been a group of eight people.
Examining closely, Vilkas realized that the victims had been unarmed and half of them were children!
The dark themed troops were taking what valuables were on the corpses, jewelry and even gold teeth awhile joking and laughing at the dead.
The hidden hunter detected that the bodies were very recent and the way they're were arranged was that they were executed together and he had a feeling that these looters were responsible.
Expressions on the lifeless were of horror and misery and their executors just kept acting with mirth as if what they done was amusing.
The smart option as a bounty hunter would be to go around these thugs or let them go away then continue on.
Yet the scene before him cause a spark of inner rage that grew with each passing second.
His dark eyes narrowed, his teeth griped, and his clawed tipped hands tighten into shaking fists as he stared at the faces of these murderers.
Considering the chaos of this place one would try to reason away the theft as a means to survive but Vilkas didn't buy that.
The sheer cruelty of the thugs showed their true colors to Vilkas, granting no sympathy from him.
Beasts they're all beasts! They use their strength to abuse others as if it was something to be proud of.
Turning his gaze back to the corpses, Vilkas found himself haunted. The bounty hunter had seen death take people many times before why is bothering him now he wondered.
The answer came from his past...his heritage.
Vilkas' people believed that the children were to be loved and cherished regardless of gender.
He had carried that belief with him despite the change in his life though he rarely express it in public.
To see little boys and girls right before him slain and the savages who done the deed taking amusement in it enraged him right to the very core of his soul.
"Man the look on these people gave when we told them to kneel was priceless."
Said a dark skinned male with long hair, wielding a big pistol in one hand while holding a bottle of whiskey in the other.
The others armed with various rifles surrounding him just snicker and then one of them, a small white female asked in an mocking tone.
"How about we take a picture posed with them, after all we doing this for the revolution."
That comment made them all laugh even louder as if it was a big joke they shared. Upon hearing that Vilkas had enough, he was going to kill these monsters, regardless of his current task.
Bringing up his blaster rilfe carefully despite his mounting anger, Vilkas aimed at the female first who on the right side of the group.
Then he opened fire, the first two bolts struck the militant woman in the gut area, killing her instantly.
Swiftly he turn his sight on the rest of the surprised looters in an rapid volley that slew another one in the head this time.
The remaining trio however hit the dirt and shot back toward Vilkas' position, but he had rolled away on the left side a moment before, tossing a flash grenade into their midst.
Seconds later it burst a bright light, blinding the militiamen who howl at the newfound pain.
While the affects were temporary, it was enough time for the Wolfman rush forward at them, blasting the dark human in the forehead and his comrade through the chest on the left.
The last remaining thug fired blindly (literally) in the front, cursing at the bounty hunter.
One of the stray bolts struck Vilkas at his left shoulder, forcing him to the ground a few feet away from his foe with a grunt.
Eyes cleared up, the skull themed thug looked down at Vilkas with murder in his eyes and aimed to finish him off.
Before the trigger could be pulled, Vilkas spin kicked at the legs, knocking the gunman sideways to the pavement.
Vilkas didn't give him a chance to recover, pulling a machete from the back of his pants and sliced the thug's head off, dropping off to the side.
Panting Vilkas looked all around at the fruits of his effort, realizing how foolish it was.
Great spirits I nearly got myself killed because I couldn't control my rage and for what? A couple of dead aliens I don't even know and shouldn't care about.
The fact is he did care. No matter how hard Vilkas would hide his compassion beneath an often ruthless exterior to others, he cared.
As if to remind him of how reckless the move was, pain burned in the Wolfman' left shoulder, causing him to grit his teeth.
Struggling back to feet level and grasping the wound with his right hand, he picked a spot at a nearby tree behind all of the corpses and sat to rest.
Then he brought out a bacta bandage from one of his utility belt compartments to dress the wound. Vilkas grunted a short laugh, thinking he used to rely his clan's shaman for healing.
"That was a lifetime ago...Before I knew things like aliens and speeders existed." He murmured out loud, resting on the tree.
Death stench and the fumes of fire close by kept him from fully enjoying the rest, short as it will be. Vilkas silently chanted to his gods for comfort repeatedly as he recovered.
Soon enough he heard thunder, mistaking it for another artillary shell for a brief second until rain from the heavens began to pour down unto all of Thani.
Thankfully the tree Vilkas laid on still had much of its branches to shelter the falling water, mostly. Drips here and there, fell on Vilkas on the head, ears, arms and even nose.
Where most would be annoyed at this situation, Vilkas in fact welcomed the rain. It sustained life, a symbol for renewal and hope, according to the old ways.
"Beauty even in the midst of devastation."
Upon saying those words, Vilkas closed his eyes to rest for a bit, yet kept the ears attentive in case of trouble.