The young man lying on the floor of The Venomous's cargo hold awakened slowly, feeling the throbbing pain in the back of his skull where he had connected with the durasteel deck increase exponentially. When he was sure he wouldn't retch from the disorientation the impact had caused, he managed to sit up, caressing the grapefruit-sized lumb on his cranium, and take a look around.
The bay was still dark, but not quite so much as it had been in space. Normally this would have been a comforting thing to a man who found himself in unfamiliar enemy territory, but things become considerably less comfortable when that light is coming from angry red warning lights. The Gunslinger had never been one for spaceflight (he had never even been off his home planet before this, in fact), and he liked it even less when the only thing between him and the vaccuum of space was malfunctioning.
Still, he had to beware of his captor. Going over to the remains of his cell door, he managed to wrench the warped hunge away for a makeshift weapon: the twisted part that had been torn away made a nasty blade that would tear rather than cut. Oh well, whatever gets the job done. Holding his new shiv, the Gunslinger cautiously ascended from the brig to the main body of the ship.
The rest, he found, was also bathed in foreboding red light, and the complete lack of viewports to the outside gave him little reason to be reassured of his position. He crept along the myriad red passages, shiv in hand and bare feet making no noise as he tried his hardest to remain undetected. Mandalorian Spy was far more armored than he was, and far better armed, so the only chance he had of killing him and stealing his ship was to exploit the element of surprise and slit the hunter's throat before he knew what was happening. However, a careful examination of the entire body of the ship showed that he was either sitting in the cockpit, the more likely choice, or off the ship.
Shiv in his mouth and eyes peering over the ladder that lead to the control room, the Gunslinger discovered the captain's seat to be devoid of any presence. The adrenaline in his system gave him an abrupt let-down, and he wanted nothing but to sit on the deck and pound the floor in desperation, but he look a glimpse out the viewport and was instantly uplifted: A city. We've landed. Quite a large city, too, by the looks of it: perfect for an escaped convict to hide in until he could manage to make his way home.
Still moving as cautiously as possible, but now lacking the fear that had been there previously, the Gunslinger made his way back to the loading ramp, which he found to be locked down. He glanced around quickly, and saw a toolbox with its contents littering the floor (doubtlessly because of the tremors that had so hurled the convict around his cell). Taking up a heavy and unfamiliar tool, he began bashing the bulkhead next to the exit with as much zeal as he possibly muster. He made massive amount of noise, of course, but he had no way of knowing when Mandalorian Spy would return to his ship. He intended to be gone by that point, and so was working for speed now rather than stealth.
Having bent the plating to his liking, he picked up a wrench and managed to pry away some of the wall, revealing the raw wiring. He took one look at the mess of multi-colored wires he had revealed, then began pulling them out with reckless abandon. Almost immediately the red emergency lights went out, leaving him in pitch blackness, but he continued his efforts and was at last rewarded with the sound of the vaccuum seals that held the door shut releasing. Dropping his wrench, he leveled a kick at the ramp and was pleased to find it give slightly, showing a sliver of brilliant light from the city. Two more kicks and the wedge-shaped hole was big enough for him to fit through; he picked up his shiv, dropped the eight feet to the spaceport deck, and was gone from the sight of passersby before he could possibly be noticed.
Free from his captor but still stuck on this unfamilar planet with no money, no equipment and not even a name, the Gunslinger slid away smoothly as water into a dark crevice in the back of the docking bay. Freedom is a relative term, and he needed to continue to improve his situation before it met his standards.