You attempt to reason with the mercenary.

 
ARCHY

Tell me, do you really believe this is me? Archangel, the great purger of evil, here confronting this lowly mook, unarmed, standing in front of you just like that? Finding me would be the real jackpot, wouldn't it? Handing me in would net you uncounted bounties. Wouldn't that be wonderful? The solution to all your miserable problems. Is this not all too convenient? The most feared vigilante of the galaxy, here on this dinky fragile little ship? Really? Or is it, perhaps, all a beautiful reverie. Has life not pushed you into this corner, seeking a curt and easy solution, as your many wretched desperations and the anguish of your inconsequential existance break the few remaining seals binding you to reality. This is nothing more than a red-sand fueled escapist fantasy, a runaway from the torment that is your failed life. Yes a failiure. I know, I am you, I am those fears personified. But you cannot defeat me. You are too feable and meager. I shall break you. I shall crush that little mind of your's. I spit on you, and with it extinguish that fidgeting tiny flicker of hope. Now die!

 

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BATARIAN MOOK

...

(you hear a gunshot)

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