Level 3030 buzzed with noise, as it always did. The skies were steady with vehicles, there were not nearly as many as there were on the surface, but a lucky few got around the undercity this way. They were a luxury for the wealthiest. Most of the denizens walked everywhere, the streets were filled with people of all kinds, aliens, humans, criminals, gangsters, all were stuffed down together.

There has been an influx of people in 3030, ever since the Empire began and oppressed millions. Refugees and political prisoners were a common sight on the level. They, like many were victims of circumstance, and unfortunately it forced them into the underworld. To a newcomer 3030 was a frightening place, gun fire seemingly going off every few minutes somewhere in the city, brawls and sometimes shootouts on the streets, gang problems were everyone's problems.

Still, all in 3030 are happy to see another day.

---

The changeling stepped through the front doors of Gorro's palace. The name truly fit the building, it was massive, quite possibly the largest one in 3030 besides the abandoned factories. It was also guarded like a military base, once he set foot though the door he noticed the eyes of the 'doormen' on him. Four armored men, each clenching blaster rifles. On the ledge above was another one, the Hutt spared no expense, he was the most infamous being in 3030.

One of the guards nodded at Leru, he was part of the Gorro's Cartel, like a VIP in his palace. Another massive door was directly in front, down a hallway. An armored Trandoshan stood by the door, a blaster on his belt. He eyed the people as they stepped inside, those that did knew they were guests, they had to have 'manners', one idiotic move might land with them out the door, dead or alive, depending on how merciful Gorro felt.

The Clawdite returned the nod from the guard, then proceeded towards the door, the Trandoshan giving him the same look the guard did, which was the most friendly snarl the imposing reptilian could muster. As he entered through that door the noise finally hit him, he was in a huge room, on one side a band played upbeat music, the kind one would dance to or at least tap their foot to. His eyes asjusted to the dimmed lights which offered just enough for one to see across the throne room.

It was a practical melting pot of species inside the room. Humans, Aqualish, Twi'leks, Rodians and many more, but only one Hutt seated comfortably on his throne in the far back of the room. On each side of him were more armed guards. It was a party like atmosphere inside of Gorro's throne room, a scantily clad woman had taken to the microphone, singing in some alien tongue as the music blared. Leru could smell the different types of alcohol and (illegal) drugs being used in the room.

He didn't feel comfortable in there, so many eyes, even in his shifted form as a human male. It was a little too much for the changeling, but he was here to speak with his boss, once he received his credits he would be out of the building. As he approached the Hutt, he felt the slug's familiar eyes on him, a smile on his mucus leaking mouth.

"He is happy to see that you have returned, he trusts you have completed the mission with no complications." A robed Nautolan said to Leru in Galactic Basic as he stood in front of the Hutt. The alien was Gorro's translator, Rhis, a position the Nautolan had held for many years. He was essentially the Hutt's right hand, always beside him. Lerru was capable of speaking the Hutt's own language, but perhaps Gorro didn't feel like speaking.

"Yes, it is done." Leru replied, only saying his words as loud as needed for both the Hutt and his translator to hear them. Once the slug heard his words a smile crept onto his massive face. Lerru did good work, rarely with any issues, the Hutt liked that.

"Excellent, you will be summoned when he has another job for you," Rhis said to Leru, then tapped a device on his wrist. The payment was recieved and the changeling could quietly exit the room which was far too loud for him.

Leru bowed, then moved towards the door, raising the hood on his robe, as the music blared through the room. He wanted to head back home, meditate in silence and solitude.

Zam’s Brothel, 3030

The sound of Zam’s house band filled the lobby of the brothel. It was a busy evening. Dozens of clients had come and gone in the past few hours, men and women from all corners of the universe, and it only looked to be getting busier by the minute. A lot of credits would be spent within the walls of Zam’s Brothel tonight. For the man in the red and black armour stood in the corner of the lobby that meant being on high alert all night. The more people that came through the doors of Zam’s Brothel the more chance there was of trouble. A group of Scarred Hutts had piqued the Mandalorian’s interest a few hours ago when they had interfered with the band but nothing had come it. The Mandalorian would be thankful when the night was done. On nights like these it was hard to relax.

In one of the brothel’s many alcoves the face of Ki Hobro appeared. Ki was Zam’s ward. She had been orphaned at a young age and had taken to working at the brothel in order to save. She wanted to see the Outer Rim and that took a lot of credits. Zam had disapproved but a Mon Calamari never let emotion stand in the way of a decision. They were dispassionate at the best of times. It was why the concern in Ki’s eyes concerned the Mandalorian so much.

From across the room he made out the word Ki was mouthing. “Trouble.”

As they climbed the stairs to the source of the trouble the Mandalorian heard the sound of Zam’s voice. It was old, weathered even, but there was a kindliness to it that was unmistakable. She stood in the doorway to a room and let a tired sigh slip through her wrinkled Twi’lek lips.

“What’s going on here?”

Inside a Rodian was buttoning up his trousers stood over an orange-skinned Twi’lek female named J’asta. She was heavier built than Zam had been at her age but the tails that dangled from her head were stick thin and sickly-looking.

J’asta gestured towards the Rodian angrily as she reached for a robe. “This loser blew his load in thirty seconds and thinks that means he doesn’t have to pay for it.”

“That’s not true,” the Rodian shouted as he buttoned up his trousers.

The orange-skinned Twi’lek shoved the Rodian with her foot.

“Trust me, if I was going to lie about something it would be letting a pig like you inside of me in the first place. I am not lying and I am definitely not letting you Stars get away with this again. Every week you try it and I’m tired of it.”

The Rodian outstretched his hand and grabbed J’asta by her robe and placed one of his scaly hands around one of her head tails. “Oh yeah? And what do you think you’re going to do about it, little lady?”

“Not her,” The Mandalorian muttered as he appeared in the doorway with Ki. “Me.”

The man in the mask noticed the look of relief wash over Zam’s face as she spotted him. Once the Rodian noticed who was speaking to him he relinquished his hold on the Twi’lek’s head tail and stepped away from her with a nervous smile. Emblazoned on his arm was a black star tattoo that marked him as one of the twin’s soldiers. The Blackened Stars had been growing of strength and number of late. More and more of them were passing through Zam’s doors.

“The whore’s lying, Mandalorian, it’s what they do.”

There was a haze to the Rodian’s eye that the Mandalorian recognised. He was on spice. It wasn’t unusual for clients to take spice before they came to the brothel. Zam had decreed long ago that no spice was to be sold on the premise. The second they let people sell within the walls of the brothel they would to pick a side. That was the last thing Zam wanted. Instead those that wanted to use it were told to do so before entering and anyone that caused problems whilst on it would be thrown out. For the most part people rode their spice high in the company of one of Zam’s many employees without incident. This seemed like one of the few exceptions.

The Mandalorian looked to Ki in search of answers. Ki was truthful to a fault. If J’asta had form with this kind of thing the Mandalorian would have seen it in Ki’s big shiny eyes. He was met with an earnest stare and turned to face the Rodian with a shake of his head.

“Hand over the credits.”

An incredulous look appeared on the Rodian’s face. “You’re seriously going to take her side?”

The Mandalorian reached down and placed one of his hands on the Sacros K-11 blaster on his hip.

“The credits.”

The Rodian muttered an expletive under his breath and reached around in the pockets of his trousers. After several seconds he produced a handful of credits and threw them onto the bed next to J’asta with a look that could kill. He fumbled with buttons for a few seconds before pulling on an orange jacket and storming towards the exit. As he passed them Zam looked towards the Mandalorian with an anxious smile. He could see in the old Twi’lek’s eyes that she had been more worried than she let on.


Three hours passed before the Rodian darkened their door again. By then the house band had stopped playing and had taken to propping up the bar in Zam’s Brothel. The number of people passing through had dwindled and it was clear that the bulk of Zam’s business had been done for the night. Lone traders and smugglers from nearby systems that had stopped to sell things on 3030’s prosperous black market would stop in but for the most part the business day had come to a close. It wouldn’t be long before Zam decided to close up for the night. Yet there the Rodian appeared in the doorway to the brothel. His beady eyes were even mistier than they had been the first time and he clutched at a blaster between his fingers. The Mandalorian was the first to spot him and moved to confront him but the Rodian fired off a shot at the ceiling before he made it to him. The stragglers, the off work employees, and the band sat at the bar fell silent.

“Where is she? I want to see the tramp that stole from me.”

The Rodian slurred as he spoke and was wobbling back and forth. As the Mandalorian approached him he could smell the alcohol on the Rodian’s breath. If one mixed the wrong type of spice and alcohol it could have very deadly effects. Not on the user but those around them. Rodians were quick to anger on a good day but with all those hallucinogens in their system there was no telling what the Star might do.

The Mandalorian’s calm, collected voice slithered through his mask towards the Rodian as he approached him. “You’ve had enough for one night.”

“I’m not sure that I have. In fact, I thought you might say that so I brought some friends along just in case.”

The doors to Zam’s Brothel opened and pouring through it can five of the Rodian’s friends. Each of them bore Blackened Stars tattoos on some portion of their body and were either brandishing or carrying blasters. There were two more Rodians, a particularly aggressive looking Wookie, an Neimoidian, and a human with a thick, red beard that hung down to his waist.

From the balcony overlooking the lobby Zam’s voice sounded. “Look, boys, we don’t want any trouble here.”

A slurred laugh left the Rodian’s mouth as he paced towards the bar and picked up a drink.

“Trouble? Who’s looking for trouble? We’re here to spend some time with your women, that’s all, we’re not here for any trouble. Are we, boys?”

The human stroked his red beard with a chuckle. “Nope, no trouble here.”

The Mandalorian could feel the weight of the stares from the people behind him. He was all that stood between them and death at the hands of the drunken Blackened Stars. He eyed their weapons slowly and looked the Wookie up and down as he plotted his next move. Mandalorians had faced off against worst than the rabble assembled before him and lived. Yet he’d been paid to look after the brothel. Even if he survived drawing down on the men the brothel would be destroyed.

“Go home.”

The Rodian threw the glass down at the Mandalorian’s feet angrily and pointed his blaster at his red and black helmet. “Last I checked there was six of us and one of you, Mandalorian. I’m not sure you’re in any position to be handing out orders.”

The Mandalorian didn’t so much as flinch as the weapon lingered millimeters away from his face. Instead a voice came from behind the mask that dripped with contempt.

“Turn around and walk away whilst you still can.”

Again a drunken titter left the Rodian’s lips as he gestured up at the whores sat nervously at the bar.

“What’s wrong? You deaf or something? Maybe one of those whores is your girlfriend. What do you reckon, boys? Maybe the Mandalorian’s girlfriend spreads her legs for credits just like he does.”

On the balcony overlooking them Zam fingered the blaster she kept hidden beneath the ledge in case of emergencies. She had hired the Mandalorian for situations like these, she had hoped his reputation would be enough to scare away the Stars, Hutts, and anybody else that came looking for trouble, but the elderly Twi’lek was more than willing to get her hands dirty if she needed to.

The Mandalorian issued one last warning. This time his contempt was almost tangible. There was no fear in his voice, no hesitation, and he stared down the barrel of the Rodian’s blaster without a sign of submission or panic.

“I won’t ask again.”

There was something in the Mandalorian’s voice that stirred something in the Rodian’s Neimoidian friend. She stepped forward and placed a hand on the Rodian’s shoulder and whispered something to him. The Mandalorian’s red and black helmet automatically boosted its audio sensors as she spoke.

“Let’s get out of here,” the Neimoidian muttered. “This place is a dump anyway.”

Suddenly a look of clarity appeared on the Rodian’s face and he lowered his weapon. He holstered it on his hip and gestured to the other Blackened Stars to move out. They did so wordlessly and the Rodian turned his back to walk out. The human with the red beard backed towards the exit with a smug smile, pushing over a vase as he went, and gestured towards his eyes and then towards the Mandalorian.

As the door shut behind them there was an audible sigh of relief from Zam’s employees and the band. The Mandalorian looked down at the shards of broken glass at the floor in front of him and then up to Zam. She nodded at him in recognition and the Mandalorian looked back absently for a few seconds before disappearing down one of the alcoves and out of sight.


A mouthful of vomit came bursting through the Mandalorian’s lips just as he pulled his red and black helmet from his head. For the most part the orange-brown mess landed in the sink in front of him but a portion of it sat within the helmet and along the Mandalorian’s black beard. The sweaty face beneath his beard was youthful and largely wrinkle-free. As the Mandalorian stared into the mirror at his face he wondered how long that would remain the case if he had many more nights like tonight. He wasn’t sure how many more nights like tonight he could even survive. He turned the tap on and washed the sick settled at the bottom of the sink away before beginning to wash the sick from his beard. His hands shook violently as he did so and he had to stop for a moment to calm his nerves.

From behind him came the sound of banging on the bathroom door and it made the Mandalorian jump more than it ought to have. “Mandalorian? Are you in there?”

The young man nervously reached for his helmet. He looked back at the bathroom door as it shook as J’asta’s fists banged against it and desperately attempted to scrub clean the sick from the inside of his helmet. As his fingers slid along it one of them slipped into the deep claw mark across the front where its previous owner had met their gruesome end. For a second he imagined himself meeting such an end at the hands of the Wookie that had accompanied the Rodian.

Again the orange-skinned Twi’lek’s voice called out to him. “It’s J’asta, I just wanted to say thank you for scaring those Stars away earlier.”

The Mandalorian began scrubbing furiously as he tried to hold back a retch. The smell made his stomach turn. A real Mandalorian would have been able to hold their stomach. The man they called the Mandalorian had heard they ate food that was so pungent that other people couldn’t bear to be near it. Here he was fighting back tears at the smell of his own vomit. Once the helmet was clean enough that he could fathom placing it back over his head he took a glance backwards. He could see J’asta’s silhouette stood in the doorway still.

“Go away, J’asta.”

This time the Twi’lek’s voice was tinged with suspicion. “Is everything okay in there?”

“I’m fine,” the Mandalorian called back as he placed his helmet back over his head. “Everything’s fine.”

He lingered in front of the mirror for a moment and stared at his reflection. The red HUD of the Mandalorian targeting system made the whole bathroom look blood red. Beneath his helmet the Mandalorian could feel water trickling down his neck where he’d cleaned the sick from his beard. He was trembling so much he had to grab the side of the sink to stop it. Under his breath the Mandalorian muttered a silent prayer to any deity that might be listening in.

He had flirted with death tonight, even more so than he usually did, and each morning he pulled on that armour he would be flirting with it once more. All he wanted to do was survive. He had dreamt once of becoming a legend, dreamt of becoming famous in systems far from here, but now all the Mandalorian wanted was some way out of the house of cards he’d constructed. He wanted away from 3030, away from Blackened Stars, Hutts, and Pure Hands. He wanted to go back to Ganthel and never steal from that cargo hold. He wanted to give the Mandalorian armour back.

He wanted the Mandalorian to die.

Alec Vendrell wanted to live.

Zolar stared at the small shrine in the alley. It was barely anything really, just a candle on a long scrapped droid. Gorro had allowed him to come here for the day. He had no idea why he came. Being here wouldn't change anything. Zolar guessed he just didn't want his father to feel forgotten. What a crock of shit. His father has been dead 6 years today. Coming here isn't doing anything for him and it's wasting Zolar's time. Zolar sighed as he leaned against the alley wall, detaching his face mask to let the stagnant 3030 air hit his yellow fur covered face. He looked about as human as a Gank could get, which is to say, not that human at all. He was considered pretty ugly by his racial standards, though the only other person besides his father said he was pretty handsome for a Gank.

He took out a cigarette and lit it, taking a long hit off of it and holding before exhaling slowly, releasing a cloud of smoke. He thought about the cybernetics in his body, working to prevent the smoke doing any damage to his cardiovascular system. He looked towards to sky, only to see a grey catwalk between apartments. He flicked his cigarette into the darkness of the alley and returned his face plate back to it's original position, hearing it click into place and the HUD flickering to life. Gorro's place was only a few blocks away, so he walked out into the wave of people. The first time he arrived here, he found the flow of people infuriating. Now he had learned how to navigate it, bending it to his will based on subtle touches and body language. He made it to Gorro's place in about 7 minutes, as he arrived, he saw a human leave looking awfully jumpy. Zolar regarded him for a moment before entering the building. It was as noisy as ever, as Zolar made his way to the back where Gorro resided on his throne. He nodded to Gorro as he took his place on the opposite side of him, folding his hands in front of him. After a few moments, he spoke in Gorro's native tongue. "I saw your visitor on my way in. He seemed nervous to be in the safest place in 3030."

Huff

Huff

Huff

Huff

Somewhere

The girl gasped for breath as she bounded a corner nearly tripping on her own feet sleek with moisture and blood. She looked about frantically, a rat in the cage. They were still alone; no crowds to disappear into and the walkway continued to snake forward branching off at several points further ahead. Safety still so far away and she had been running for what felt like hours by this point. The muscles in her legs screamed beneath her as she forced herself forward. Just one more step, one more step. Her arm still blared with pain but she didn't dare try to assess the damage at the moment, the blood would only start making her stomach do flips again.

Coming from behind she heard more footsteps and yelling. Still not looking back she could imagine the faces. Three human males dressed in a combination of worn beaten leather and pieces of metal combat armor. All three armed to the teeth. The big giant with the vornskr laugh cold blue eyes, and vibroblade slick with that Duro’s blood heavy footfalls getting closer and closer. They had known about the drop off. How... did Inanjoma sell her out? No that was stupid, if she wanted her dead she would have done it herself. And what was so important about this damn package she was carrying?

She pulled to the right down one of the side branches hoping to find someplace a little less open. As she did one of her pursuers let off a shot with his blaster rifle. The bolt soared passed close enough for the girl to feel the heat before it smashed into a wall exploding violently. Those things definitely were not set to stun shots. The side branch sloped downward leading back into the characteristics labyrinth alleyways and sidestreets that made up a large majority of 3033. There were no neon signs or the sounds of people here, it was dark with large rundown tenant buildings stacked close to one another making the path that the girl was following seem crowded and claustrophobic as if the walls were closing in on her.

She found a small opening between two of the buildings, the voices getting closer and her legs not able to hold out much longer she took a chance. It was a tight fit even for her having to shimmy sideways the walls pressing closer around her. She fought back a shiver as she felt her lekku rubbed against the grim covered walls. Going as far back as she could into the alleyway, she shrank down trying to blend into the shadows around her. Her breathing gradually slowed even as her heart violently pulsed within her chest. The sound so loud in her own head, she was sure that the brutes would hear here. Badump, badump, badump.

She watched the entrance to the small alleyway with shaking hands dragging out her DH-23 and pointed it down the passageway from where she came watching and waiting. Trying to calm her thoughts she tried to think back to how this whole damn thing started.



Several hours earlier
Undisclosed Location, Level 3030

Shakka sat in a small waiting room. A plush carpet beneath her feet greedily sunk in her boots towards the floor. She was sitting on a small chair looking very expensive more like a modern art piece than something of functional furniture, the curve made in such a way that you could never get truly comfortable sitting in it as every couple of minutes she had to push herself up to prevent her entire body from slipping out of it and onto the floor. Across the way a Rodian Female sat at a desk typing away at a computer in front of her. She seemed to ignore Shakka in her entirely, focused on the work in front of her as dextrous long fingers typed away. A little further away standing in front of a large double door two armed guards watched impassively one an Echani and the other a Zabrak both in heavy combat armor and holding what appeared to be T-21 light repeating blasters, heavily modified and very illegal to own. The two never seeming to move except for slight signs of breathing as they looked ahead.

A flash of green and a chirping from the Rodian’s computer. She swiped her hand across the screen transition to message which she read quickly before switching back with another swipe of a hand. She turned towards the door and then towards Shakka and repeated the process two more times drawing an almost quizzical gaze from the Twi’lek girl as she fiddled with her hands absentmindedly. Finally seemingly content with the situation she spoke to Shakka in a cool high pitched voice with a strange politeness that was very uncommon in the Undercity. “Mistress Inanjoma will see you now. Go through the doors.”

A sigh of relief passed through Shakka’s mouth as the Rodian spoke to her. She had been waiting for the past hour and as the time ticked by she could taste the tension in the room. Wiping the sweat of her palms and into her pants she stood up feeling her boots sink a little bit deeper into the padded carpet. She made her across the small distance as she approached the threshold of the doors, the Rodian called back to her never looking up from her computer busy at work.

“Oh and dear? I don’t think that I need to remind you or anything but please be on your beast behavior. I would hate it if any accidents occurred.” The same politeness was in the voice but now behind it was the heavy coldness of a very serious threat. Shakka didn't respond but slowly nodded her head trying to stay cool. She looked towards the Zabrak who give her a once over before nodding and turning around pressing her hand into a panel. There was a humm as the hand was scanned and the signature recognized before the twin doors ahead of her slide open without a noise. Taking one last look around Shakka took a step beyond the threshold.



Inanjoma’s office was more like an observation platform than anything else. A large circle room with big heavily reinforced windows serving as the walls whose opacity was set as high as possible at the moment serving as silent black monoliths. A desk was shoved in one corner of the room made of a rich dark colored wood, the floor made of the same carpeted material as the waiting room outside. What took the main stage was a large circular bed resting upon a dais in the exact center of the room. Currently three bodies occupied the bed sitting up and facing the door and Shakka as she walked in. One was Inanjoma herself body covered in a silk robe that ended just below her knees and left very little to the imagination, her blue body practically radiating pure sex appeal. To one side of the Twi’lek woman was a human female with black hair and blue eyes and a series of complex tattoos. To the other side was a Zeltron female with deep crimson skin and dark blue hair. The two clung to Inanjoma on either side both stark naked.

Inanjoma gave a small catlike smile as she saw Shakka and whispered to the two other women. Disappointment flashed through their eyes but they stood up and walked down the dias towards the door. They giggled as they walked past Shakka not so subtly brushing themselves against her as they passed and disappeared through the doors. Shakka herself seemed much less phased about the situation than one might expect given the circumstance. But truth be told in her time working with Inanjoma Shakka had figured out how the older Twi’lek worked in some cases. Inanjoma liked playing games like a Krayt Dragon playing with a bantha before it went in for the kill, she liked being in control and throwing others off balance in any way possible. And if you let her phase you well you already lost and she already have her jaws over your neck ready to kill the poor dumb little bantha .

<<What’s the matter Shakk'arar my dear, you seem so tense.>> Inanjoma said in her singsong voice in Ryl. The two always talked in the language of their people it felt more natural that way. As she continued to speak Inanjoma stepped down to the bottom step of the dias. She reached a hand out towards Shakka as her Lekku twitched in a way that Shakka recognized as follow me. Not wanting to show any form of weakness Shakka took her hand as she lead her up to the Dias leading her to the foot of the bed where the two of them sat down.

<<Well on most days, I don’t get a message telling me that the leader of the Sirens needs to talk to me about urgent business. Usually that means you're about to get killed. >> Shakka replied feeling the smoothness of the silk sheets beneath her hands, trying to subdue her own reactions as Inanjoma moved her hands to her shoulders and slowly shrugged her out of Vyso’s Jacket leaving it on the behind. One hand rested on her leg as the other fell on her back.

<<Oh dear I’m disappointed that you don’t know me well enough by now. If I wanted you dead, I would of skinned you alive in public. Make a message out of you. Dirty business is best done that way, no need for skeletons in the closet. Truth be told though, I need you for a job.>> Inanjoma explained as Shakka could feel the warmth of her breath on her neck as her hand on her back began to slowly move in lackadaisical patterns up and down.

<<And what mission would that be Inanjoma? What do you need of little old me?>> Shakka responded still unimpressed and apparently unphased from Inanjoma’s current tactics to try and throw her off her mark. The older Twi’lek was enjoying this, Shakka could see it on her face but she wasn't going to break not here and not now. Her lekku laying down in a direct I’m not impressed.

<<Oh it's very simple dear. I just need you to deliver a data pad to some of Jenala and Jondevo’s boys. But the data is very, very important and an important deal is riding on the proper transfer of it. So you can see how I’m putting a great deal of trust in you. Shakk'arar” She spoke in barely a whisper as the hand running down her back moved up and brushed against Shakka’s lekku with a ghost like touch. The sensitive nerve endings immediately sprang to life causing her body to almost jerk in Inanjoma as her spine immediately went straight. Shakka grit her teeth to keep her composure as she tried and failed to block the sensation from her head as she spoke.

<<Yeah well I don’t work for free Inanjoma. A girl’s gotta eat you know.>> She explained trying to keep her voice straight as Inanjoma practically chuckled at her serious business response as she leaned closer pressing her body against Shakka hand still brushing on one of her lekku as she whispered into her ear.

<<And how does 1,000 credits sound to the bravest little courier?” Shakka’s eyes widened at the sound of it. To some individuals 1,000 credits was little more than chump change something you used to be maybe some new armor or a fancy hunting pistol. But to most denizens of 3030 it was a small fortune especially for the likes of Shakka who barely made enough money to get a hot meal everyday. If she used it right she would be set for at least six months maybe more if she was really stringent about it. But a thought crept into her head.... no it couldn't be that easy.

<<Yeah and what's the catch Inanjoma?>> She asked sternly turning to face Inanjoma her day eyes looking expectantly into hers. The other Twi’lek give another predatory smile as she spoke looking almost hurt.

<<Catch? Who do you take me for Shakk'arar like that brute Beccou or maybe like that piece of slime Gorro? There is no catch just credits. But be warned if you fail your job, or curiosity gets the better of you and you look at the information? Well let’s just say that you’ll end up like your brother.>> She voice transition from the silence to the avalanche deathly cold and serious. The hand tracing her Lekku closing around one of them with a forceful grip sending shockwaves of pain through Shaka's body almost sending her barreling over off the bed in pain. Then she released her grip, her point made. It was obvious though that playtime was over and that Inanjoma had concluded their business for now. Shakka got up in silence grabbing her jacket from the bed and shrugging it back on as she stepped down from the dias and moved towards the door. As she neared the door the voice called out to her back to its singsongy quality.

<<Don’t be a stranger my dear. You’re one of my favorites.>>



Some time later
Neutral territory drop-off , Level 3030

Shaka approached the designated area that was marked on her datapad when she left the Siren’s base. It was a small intersection of a couple of dirty side streets near the center of 3030. Oddly enough a place like this which would of been a major artery of traffic at most times was dead empty. She assumed that the Black Stars must have cleared out the area for the drop. The Black Stars men were waiting near the center of the intersection. The leader a Duros dressed in a black pilot suit reminiscent of the standard imperial variant looking impatient and to one side an Aqualish handling a vibroaxe and with a blaster pistol strapped to his belt and on the other side a Devaronian missing one horn and carrying a heavy blaster rifle. As Shaka approached them he called out in Basic to her.

“You Inanjoma’s delivery girl? You’re late the meeting was supposed to happen an hour ago. The Black Stars don’t appreciate it when little Twi’leks can’t keep to a timetable.” He easiered in a higher pitched but smoothed voice as if coming from some sort of noble heritage or the like.

“Yeah well you didn't have the track all the way across the damn level and not take any major roads to avoid being spotted now did you? Or would you have prefered we all have gotten ambushed and killed?” Shakka rolled her eyes as she stepped closer not impressed but the impatient Duros.

“Hmph.. well do you have the package or not?” The Duros asked as he straightened his flight suit looking at Shakka impassively. The two stars to either side rising their weapons as Shaka reached to her side, trigger happy and expecting a weapon after waiting for so long. But much to their disappointment instead of bringing out a weapon she brought out the datapad and waved it in the air.

“Yeah here it is. Now do you have our payment?” The Duros’ nodded reaching for a large heavy metal case that was at has feet and making a show of it slowly brought it up and opened it up displaying it to Shakka showing it filled to the brim with credit chips. And as the Duros closed his suitcase there was a sound of a struggle further away, a single blaster shot and the sound of footsteps approaching. The four of them all turned towards the left most path where out from the shadows walking calmly up was three humans heavily tattooed, devilish intent in their eyes. Pures.

The Duros held a hand up signaling for his men to hold positions as they approached. Instinctively Shakka moved backwards putting the Stars between her and the Pures as they approached. Two of them were dressed head to toe in combat gear but the one in the middle was more elegantly dressed in a crisp and finely tailored suit that you would expect to be worn high above by the nobles. His blonde hair was shaved except for a short finely kept mohawk, light blue eyes twinkling to his own private joke as he stepped forward. He dwarfed his other two companions easily and was clutching a large vibrosword in his hand looking what should have been used in two in one easily. He spoke in a deep voice where all was needed to listen to the intent.

“And what’s going on here. A transaction and we weren't invited so very rude. Well at least it's between dirty aliens, I’m surprised they can even talk to one another with words.” He spoke as he stepped closer his two thugs laughing as they got closer. The Duros and his guards held their ground showing now fear as Shakka slowly slipped the datapad back into her jacket pocket. Ready to run at any moment but waiting for the right opportunity.

“And if it isn't Daxar Leone, one of Beccou’s lapdog enforces. You stupid or something human or do you just want to die early? Because I would gladly collect the bounty on your head. Jenala and Jondevo may even promote me for doing such a service for the community.” He spoke without an inch of fear in his voice. The tension grew and the two groups were just waiting for the first to make their move.

“Oh I’m not stupid, I’m just here to pick up a package that a little birdy told me would be delivered here. But you know killing you is going to be an added little bonus. The boss is paying extra for bug face scalps this month.” And with a snap of his fingers two hidden snipers that had been trained on the Duros men fired. The two dropped almost instantly the heavy rounds piercing their armor and finding purchase in the center of mass. The Duros reacted with surprising speed pulling his blaster from his holster and firing two rounds at Daxar. The first shot was mostly absorbed by Daxar’s armor but the second hit exposed flesh. The shot though did not even stagger the brute as he charged forward goring the Duros on his vibrosword going straight through his chest blood splattering outwards and getting on Shakka behind him. Daxar withdrew the blade and as the Duros fell to the ground he whispered to Shakka.

“Run....” Not waiting for any more advice, Shakka turned and ran in the opposite direction away from them. As she turned and fled one of Daxar’s men took a shot the bolt did not hit dead on but still tore across her left arm. The pain sent her staggering forward almost upon her face before she was able to catch herself and before they could get another shot she slipped down an alleyway and continued running and Daxar’s men proceeded to follow after her and the hunt was on.



Present

Shakka seemed to have sat in the small alleyway with her blaster drawn for a long time. Three times they passed by the opening and all three times they did not find her even as her heart froze. She still waited another hour there alone with her thoughts terrified to move. She waited making sure that she heard no noise and no sound. And finally she slowly made her way out of the small alleyway making her way back in the small alleyway.

Looking around and getting her bearings she made her way back towards a port in the storm that she knew that Pures wouldn't dare to look for her. She was going to need to at least have a couple of minutes to tend to her arm. She took out the datapad and looked down at it looking at her reflection looking back at her coated in the Duros’ blood. Wondering what in the world Inanjoma had gotten her into. After a moment of recollection she stowed the pad away and made her way down one of the winding alleyways.

Just another day......

Level 3030
Forty-Eight Hours Earlier

An armored landspeeder headed southbound. A three female team on the courier run. All were Siren Clan. Two armed guards sat in front arguing over music, a guard in the back browsed on her terminal. Their cargo: two small envelopes. The driver put on a jazzy number. The passenger rolled her eyes.

Two blocks later, a thermal detonator rolled beneath the landspeeder and exploded. The explosion twisted the behemoth onto its side. It skidded across the sidewalk and slammed into an apartment building. Glass shattered. Furniture went flying. The speeder came to a stop. People ran and screamed. Four men ran from a side alley towards the speeder. All black outfits and black masks. They carried blaster carbines.

One masked man fired breaching rounds into the speeder's cab. The guards screamed, fired back. Their shots missed wide. The masked man kept firing, pumped ten shots into the cab. Blood spattered the windows, blood spattered the seats, blood ran out the cab. Another masked man stood at the back of the car with another thermal detonators. A small explosion blew off the car's back door. The guard in the back came out firing. Two rounds caught a masked man flush in the chest. Two other robbers blew the guard away with a hail of laser fire. A masked man stepped over the dead guard, fired twice into the body to make sure he stayed down and went inside the flipped car. The shot man got up coughing blood. He pulled down his black shirt, revealing armor under the clothing. He stood on wobbly legs and dry heaved inside his mask.

Twenty seconds later, a robber came out the back with two big manila envelopes under his arm. The four men hurried towards the alley they came down. Alarms rang. Bystanders screamed. Sirens wailed far away.The jazzy music from the speeder echoed through the sounds of chaos.

---

Now

"So that's when the Wampa looks at the hunter and says 'You don't just come here for the hunting, do you?'"

The Pau'an let out a high-pitched giggle once the Gotal beside him got to the punchline. The big, horned creature laughed along with the Pau'an, braying loudly across the diner. Even though Vig was at a booth far away from the two of them, he could clearly hear their conversation as he sipped his drink. The terminal on the table told him he still had ten minutes before his contact was to arrive. He'd been at the diner for over two hours now. Standard operating procedure had him show up well in advance of any potential clients in case of an ambushes. So far two people asking for help had turned out to be plants from the Pure Hands. Vig ran afoul of them six months ago when he protected a Toydarian family from the Pure Hands. The gang members that saw his face never lived to report back what he looked like, but they knew the man who helped people had killed their own and they wanted payback in blood.

A ruckus near the front door put Vig on edge. He saw a group of motley looking youths hurrying past the diner's large window. His hand went down towards the blaster in his pocket as the group approached the diner's door. There were a couple of Rodians, a Wookie, a human, and a Neimodian. The human had a large black star tattooed on his neck. The scenarios played in his head as he sized them all up. He played the angles and of how to kill each one in the quickest and most effective way. Vig relaxed once the group was gone down the street and out of view. He let out a breath and slipped his hand out of his pocket before going back to his drink.

Vig slipped a stirrer into his drink and watched the liquid spin as he mixed it up. He still felt a bit of surrealness at seeing someone else's hands whenever he did something. He never knew how much he took his appearance for granted until after he changed it. Now he sometimes caught himself by surprise when he saw his reflection. The man in the mirror was Vigor Vespellian. He was Vigor Vespellian. Who he was and what he was so long ago was dead. His new line of work was part of putting the old him to rest. His old self had caused so much death and destruction that maybe Vig could atone for at least part of that before he died.

The clatter of the front door opening drew Vig's sight up from his drink. A Quarren male stood near the door and surveyed the diner. His tentacles and faced were a rich brown, almost as dark as Vig's skin, and his eyes were a bright yellow. Vig slid his terminal towards the edge of the booth and tapped a command into it. It sent out a flashing yellow pulse that sent a signal to the Quarren's own device. He looked in the direction of Vig's booth and gingerly made his way towards it before sliding in to face Vig.

"You are man?" He screeched something his native tongue, something Vig couldn't comprehend. "Man that fixes things?"

"That's me," Vig replied as he sipped his drink.

"I was not expecting human."

The Quarren seemed to turn its nose, or whatever the thing that passed as a nose was, up at Vig and twitch its tentacles.

Vig stared at the Quarren with just a hint of incredulity. "Does it really matter what I look like? You came to me for help. You could always call up the Pure Hands and see if they'll help you out."

A few more clicks and whirrs from the Quarren. Vig assumed he was putting him in his place with some sort of alien tongue lashing he couldn't comprehend. He reached into his jacket and pulled a terminal out. On it, a hologram of a younger, female member of his species waved and laughed and said something to whoever was recording it.

"Xam. She is daughter. Daughter has gone missing. Nearly one month now. No word, no communication. Not much money. Nobody will help."

The Quarren's mouth tentacles twisted into curls and a low, guttural noise came from his mouth. Even though their respective species evolved on separate planets thousands of light years apart, Vig didn't need to know the Quarren's language to see and hear the pain and suffering as he broke down into something that was like crying for him.

Vig finished off his drink and let the Quarren cry himself out. When he was done, Vig pressed the record button on his terminal and slid it towards the Quarren.

"We'll talk about price at a later time. For now, speak in Basic as clear as you can and tell me all the details about your daughter leading up to her going missing. Don't skip any details, and don't hide anything that might help me find her. I want to know it all."

"You find? You fix?"

"I try," said Vig. "Now, please. Tell me what you know."

Leru ignored the looks of those within the room as he quietly exited the same way he had entered. As he pushed through the front door of the palace he was greeted by more noise, the usual sounds of 3030, machinery, gunshots, lots of talking, footsteps on metal floor. His eyes fell upon the line to one side, more armed guards at the front of it waving through or denying those that seeked an audience with the great Hutt of the undercity. He almost laughed as one of the denied yelled at a guard who just rolled his eyes at the man. He was happy he wasn't one of the doormen.

His home was a short walk away, still in Scarred Hutt territory, but not the heart of it. As he left the area around the compound the amount of civilians and gangsters seemed to shift in favor of the former. Well, there were still many of the gang members amongst the crowds, a good amount of them just didn't openly display that on themselves. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and started down an alleyway, avoiding a large mob. Then he felt someone grasp the leg of his robe, causing him to stop in his tracks.

It was one of the many homeless in 3030, a drunken human bum. The man's face was dirty, his clothes a total mess, an empty bottle next to him. It reminded the changeling of his homeworld, many of his people tried to kill their sadness at life with alcohol. It was never a good idea. He silently handed the man a few credits, which caused a smile to appear on his face. He'd probably go spend it on more alcohol, but it was the act that counted.

---

"That whore took my credits as soon as I paid her I was forced out before I could get anything. What kind of fucking business do they run at that whorehouse," The Rodian complained, loudly to another Blackened Star. "We should just kick the doors in and take it over."

"That brothel's been in three thirty forever, practically sacred ground. We take that and everyone else in the level takes us out." The man that was listening to him replied, his voice brimming with honesty.

"Maybe it was sacred in the old days, now it's just a scam show, we take that and they all know the Stars are nothing to fuck with." The Rodian said back, still upset over the incident, even if he was lying about it.

"We are not anything to fuck with anyway. So some whore ripped you off, you went back there with backup and ran away with your tail tucked between your legs."

"That's not how it went, they have a Mando guarding the place, he had the armor and all. You know how those guys are." The Rodian shot back.

"Maybe he is, maybe he ain't. The Mando glory days are gone, besides, the boss called Ronis in to chat about it. He's got pull around here, you know." The man said, then walked away. Both of them were in one of a Blackened Star bar, one of the many within their territory.

Scantily clad, enslaved waitresses moved through the crowded tavern, handing out drinks. The Rodian grabbed one, then slapped the girl on her backside, a smile on his face, a silent sigh from the poor woman. She couldn't do anything about it, was commonplace as a slave for the Stars.

There were others in there, the man behind the bar forced to serve drinks, girls in other rooms forced to serve the Stars in 'other' ways. The other gangs used slaves, but the Stars were the most brutal to their living property.

Ronis emerged from a door right next to the bar, the red bearded human had a smile on his face, the same one that was on his face when he left the brothel. A moment later, Jondevo emerged, a less happy expression on his face. All of the eyes in the room seemed to instantly stare at the king of the Blackened Stars, intense glances of admiration and respect. He was clad in a fine set of clothing, black hair spiked. He approached the Rodian, Ronis beside him.

"There was a Mandolorian at this whorehouse and six of you couldn't teach him a lesson?" Jondevo asked, anger behind the words. The Rodian had stood at attention as the room went silent.

"Yes sir, armor and all." The Rodian said back, the nervousness, almost fear behind his words evident. Jondevo's rage was well known within the Stars, he was not a man to upset.

"I have skinned filth like that before. Crafted a jacket of Mandolorian flesh. Turned the armor into a statue. One Mando, no matter how imposing is still one Mando." Jondevo said, practically lecturing the Rodian. The truth behind his words was something none of his loyal followers would argue.

"That place is neutral ground, it has been that way for years. Before we were both even born." Ronis said to Jondevo.

"We'll see how much longer it will be that way." Jondevo replied, a smile on his face. All of the other Stars within the bar seemed to follow the smile with one of their own.

---

"He is a strange one, but he does good work." Gorro replied in his native tongue before food was brought to him, a small live creature which he ate whole. Then his large eyes shifted to two dancers in the center of the room, as the party continued. Two beautiful Twi'leks, both in revealing robes. They seemed to mirror each other with their moves, as the music accompanied every movement.

The hutt enjoyed it, rather he enjoyed that it was all for him, all in his greatness. All of the people within his palace had come to pay respect that that, he was practically the ruler of 3030 and they all knew it. As the dance concluded, many within the room applauded it, then they all stared at Gorro who simply clapped twice, showing that he was pleased with the show.

"Isn't it beautiful, Zolar? All of these visitors are here in our greatness, a show of the Cartel's greatness." Gorro said to his bodyguard.

---

"The Pures, took her. I know it. Was with her outside of their ground, human spoke to her, my back was turned and she followed human. Heard her scream, still can hear it. Ran to where I heard it, was nothing. Saw human when he called to her. Should have stopped her. Black hair, long. No hair on face, tattoo on one cheek, don't know of what. Tattoo on one uncovered arm, writing, basic maybe. Couldn't read..." The Quarren went silent, as it's emotions took over.

"Find Xam, please. Any way. She is alive still, I know it," The alien said, then locked saddened eyes with Vig. "Will get credits for you. Loan maybe, anything for her."

Then the Quarren rose one hand to his face, his eyes closed, the pain over losing his daughter had almost broken him.

i

The worst thing about 3030 wasn't the dank air or the humidity, she had been to plenty of worlds with those conditions. Nor was it the smell, while aweful Mar had taken her to plenty of worlds that rivalled the smell in 3030. No, what struck at her heart. Made her tremble slightly inside and quite as a small scrap mouse that inhabited Coruscant. Of course, she couldn't hide this from Mar, who turned to face her with the expressionless helmet. He was sitting in the passanger seat of the transport, he never drove the vehicle. Not since she learnt how to drive, he said it was a safety precaution. If they were to come under attack it would be far more likely that he could hit a target in a moving vehicle than her, and while you can shoot and drive why take the added risk?

So instead he observed her in the same quiet way he always did. Sometimes the way he read her mind made it as if he could use the Force. Though she knew he couldn't, he was lucky like that. He never had to feel people die around them, nor was he hunted purely for being raised by a religious order whose sole goal was to better the people of the Galaxy. Though she turned to Mar and smiled, shaking herself out of her own reverie. They had a job to do, and thinking about the past wasn't going to help anyone. Especially not where they were going, in 3030 if you didn't keep your wits about you you were going to lose something. "Buir, something troubling you?"

He smiled beneath his helmet at the Mandalorian word. She had started trying to pick it up several years ago, feeling that it would make her more of a Mandalorian. To be fair to be a true Mandalorian you had to follow the resol'nare, and that was one of the tennents. Though it still amused him sometimes, more so when she made a mistake. "Nothing Ad'ika. Just thinking about the last time we were here." She wasn't technically his daughter, at least not in the biological sense. Though for those from Mandalore family meant more than blood. "If I recall correctly, I met a poor lost soul..."

He pulled his helmet over his head and placed it in his lap, flashing her a grin. "Who joined me and became a constant pain in the neck ever since." She gave him a cold stare, she had been practicing. Though she only lasted a couple of minutes before she too broke into a laugh. It had been too long since he had heard that laugh, she had been truly put on edge when she heard of a Force adept living in the underworld of Coruscant. Which was the only reason he agreed to come on this job, she needed the closure. Whether there was another surviving Jedi or if wheoever it was was just a member of some other group. As Mar did have to remind her, the Jedi weren't the only ones who could perform tricks with the Force.

"You know Mar, I'm really glad you came down to thirty-thirty." She flashed him a genuine smile, the kind that made her eyes glisten slightly. It was a sad smile in a way, and reflective. She was likely thinking of her life before, and what her life was leading her too before he came. He just put his hand on her shoulder and smiled back at her.

"So am I." He looked out the viewport to see the landing pad up ahead as he put his hands on his helmet. "The bounty was good." That was the last straw, as she began laughing again.

---

Ten Minutes Later

The two walked through the dirt ridden streets of 3030. They weren't side by side, he guessed that was the independent and rebellious side of Tanya coming out. He winced when he recalled the teen years, how Jedi Knights ever managed to teach teenage Jedi Padawans was a mystery that he'd probably never find the answer too. It was cheating when you tried to make all the responsible decisions and they could just levitate objects around, while Tanya had had largely abandoned the Force it hadn't stopped her from being a right little terror. She still could be, damn girl was making him go soft.

Most people parted the way for him, after all. While Mandalorians weren't a common sight down here in 3030, most people either knew the armour or just recognised a bounty hunter when they saw one. Obviously Bounty Hunters travelled alone unless they had prisoners, Tanya was obviously no prisoner so most people didn't class the two as a group. So she had to budge and barge past people while Mar walked relatively unchallenged. He chuckled to himself, knowing full well that if she decided to use her fancy Force powers she'd pick up on that. When he stopped at a junction and saw her face, he knew she didn't need to. She knew he was enjoying this far too much.

That's when he noticed the tattoos on the men who happened to be walking around her, and before he knew it they had weapons drawn on her. "Hey little miss, fancy a fun time?" One of them raised a vibroknife to just below her kneck, holding the flat of the blade to touch her skin. He slid the point down, just in contact with her skin. Enough to feel it but to not enough to leave a mark or draw blood, they'd be glad of that when this was over.

He kept moving the knife down until it reached her chest, before she responded two more grabbed her arms. That's when she shot a look to Mar, the men with stars on them turned to see what she was looking at.

"Not another 'ruddy one. Just keep on moving pal, your stolen armour doesn't scare us."

"Has nobody ever told you aruetii, ke nu'jurkadir sha Mando'ade." He smirked under his helmet, of course to them he was just a faceless helmet. They looked at one another, obviously not understanding the Mando'a.

Tanya was the one to speak up. "He said, don't toy with mandalorians"

Mar shook his head "Actually Ad'ika. It's don't mess with Mandalorians." He lowered his hands to his pistols, but didn't grab them just yet. The man still had a knife to Tanyas throat after all, he'd need to be fast. "This is your last chance, I have no quarrel with the Blackened Stars. Though if a drop of her blood is spilled, or she is bruised in anyway. You shall regret it."

The grime splattered streets of level 3030 whizzed past as Jezariyah Khez sprinted with all the speed she could muster, her muscular legs beating firmly beneath her. In ordinary circumstances, Bounty Hunting was less disintegrating and more waiting behind dumpsters, for those who weren't gunslinging Mandalorians, but today was the farthest thing from ordinary.

Jezy checked the flickering blue digits on her holobraclet.

12 minutes

Shit.

Already out of breath, Jezariyah conjured up what little energy she had left, bolting through narrow alleyways, and vaulting over garbage and debris, as the thunderous thumping in her ears beat in time with her heart.

Don’t we know better than to get involved in gang business? She scolded herself inwardly You mean like when we knew better than to eat three Bantha burgers in one sitting?

She could see the warehouse, sprouting out of the ground like some grubby brick wound as she rushed towards it. Broken windows, rusted supports, roof practically caved in on itself. This was the place.

And the woman called Eurissa was inside.

The gears inside Jezariyah’s head began to whirr as she planned her next move. Did she charge in like a Jedi on spice and risk getting cut-up and blown to bits, or did she play it smart?

Her thermal detonator blew the door into so much charred metal, clearing the way ahead of her. Jezy burst through the cloud of black smoke which wafted in the air, as chunks of twisted shrapnel clattered to the ground amidst a haze of hissing flames.

The interior of the warehouse was vast and cavernous, but the bounty hunter was more concerned with the four Pure Hand thugs who were springing to life and charging towards her.

The S-405 Fusion Sharpshooter came out in one swift flick, as Jezariyah’s hands coiled around the weapons pale metal body.

CRACK!

The rifle barked, and a sizzling red beam lanced forwards, catching one of the skinheads square in the throat, turning flesh to smoldering black tatters in the blink of an eye, as dark blood bubbled in his drooping mouth.

The hiss of one of the thug’s blasters coiled through the air, glancing narrowly off of Jezariyah’s black shoulder pad. Without the time to look through the scope, the Bounty Hunter squeezed the trigger of her Sharpshooter, a bolt of crimson exploding into his chest, just as Jezariyah hurled herself to the side, lending with a painful thud behind the shaky cover of an old steel pillar.

The shots of the two remaining lowlifes pinged harmlessly against the trunk-like body of her new hiding place, letting out a sharp ping as the lasers bounced off of metal.

Thermal detonators aren’t cheap, but melting xenophobes is awfully therapeutic. To Jezy, at least.

A glistening silver cylinder rolled out from behind cover.

BANG!

By the time the smoke cleared there were two less men working for the Pure Hand Syndicate.

“Get out from behind there, or the tail-head gets her brains painted across the wall.”

The voice that spoke was deep and majestic, carrying age beyond its years in each booming syllable.

Jezariyah edged slowly out from behind the pillar, her metal boots clanking against the cold steel floor.

Eurissa, the Twi'lek girl Jezy had come form, was gagged and bound to an old chair, her sculpted features whimpering and quivering in a wordless cry for help. Standing over her shoulder was a lumpy-faced human with a faded white mop of hair, pressing a blaster with a round nozzle against his captive’s head.

“That was a waste of good, human , lives,” The thug snarled “What’s some shit-for-brains Twi’lek to you?” He pointed one bony finger accusingly at Jezariyah, gnashing his rotten yellow teeth.

“Hey!” Jezy snapped, her voice echoing from beneath her helmet “I could be a Twi’lek under here, for all you know!”

“Are you…?”

“Well, no,” she admitted “but that was still an arsehole thing to say. Arsehole.”

“Is this all just a motherfucking game to you?!” The thug barked after a slight pause, spraying fat wads of spittle out in front of him.

“Yeeeah.”

The thug twitched, and his gunhand swung towards her in irritation. It was a basic, reflex action, but one which cost him dearly.

With Eurissa temporarily out of harm’s way, Jezy let her Sharpshooter clatter to the ground, as she tore her own blaster out of its holster, calculating the point of trajectory as the innermost workings of her brain crackled to life. The RX-7 Repeating Blaster Pistol spewed a three-shot volley of putrid green lasers, which ripped straight through the thug’s eye-socket, turning the right side of his face into a gooey dribble of meat and bone.

Life left the man in a strained gasp, as his stocky form swayed and then crashed to the floor.

Jezariyah strode forwards, unsheathing her Vibromachete in a flash of steel, before slicing straight through Eurissa’s bonds, and yanking out her gag.

“Th-thank you…” The Twi’lek sobbed, still very much in shock as tears tumbled slowly down her soft blue cheeks.

“Don’t mention it,” Jezariyah said in her most comforting voice “now let's get you home.”

Eurissa wasn’t going home. She wasn’t even going back to the sickly stained brothel she used to work at. It was the Siren Claw Syndicate who had put the job up, requesting Eurissa’s safe return, but it was the Blackened Stars who’d put up the counter offer for Eurissa’s head, and for a much more generous price. The Twi’lek had slept with the wrong men, and had the wrong kind of pillow talk; the kind which would put the gang's future plans into jeopardy if she were to run her mouth off. The Stars needed Eurissa dead, but they couldn’t risk her blabbing to the xenophobic Pure Hand bruisers in some kind of last ditch grab at freedom. They’d needed someone to bring her to them, unharmed, so they could finish the job themselves.

That was where Jezariyah had come in.

"Since this is the first time you've paid for my services I'll give you the rules I give all my clients: Firstly, if I say jump you will jump, that is how you live. Secondly, I really don't care what you do, but I will charge you for starting a fight. Lastly, if you refuse to pay me, I will collect. Any other questions?" Kell said in his unique clone accent.

"Oh quiet you, I know the rules. Reahc told me them when he recommended you. The only reason I hired you anyways was because the Stars have been crawling all over that damned place. I'm half tempted to have you remove everyone of those damned aliens from my sight when we get there, filthy creatures." Correl said, the light brown skinned human with a shaved head currently wrapped up in a black quote. Kell was being paid to escort the Pure hand member to Zem's brothel for a "business meeting". He knew this was not the case but he really didn't care, he knew as much as he needed too. He also knew the pay was good since this man had been recommended to him by another Pure Hand member, one who paid on time and in full. This was good enough for him to accept the job. He was curious about who Correl had pissed off to make him so scared of the Stars, but he almost preferred he this question was never answered.

"I doubt you could afford that fight." Kell said as he brought the rather none descript looking speeder around and in for a landing near the brothel. As he landed the speeder he shoved his back pack into a lock box underneath the back seat and locked it. This mission wouldn't last more than an hour, it also helped that the area hadn't seen any real fighting between the gangs for the past couple of days. Kell opened the side of the speeder and stepped out being careful to not get his cloak caught on anything. Since they were going in not looking to fight he figured it was best to adorn his armor with a rather worn looking brown cloak that covered his armor from the neck down. While his helmet would still be visible his weapons would not be. He was armed rather heavily what with his pistols strapped to his legs and his rifle hanging from his waist. If a group got frisky with them he certainly had enough ammo to deal with them all, but everyone else didn't need to know that. He came around to the Pure hand member and let him out of the speeder. As he stepped off and touched the ground he closed the door behind him and locked the speeder. "After you." Kell said without a hint of sarcasm.

The pair stepped out into the grimy streets from the parking pad and began making their way towards the brothel. Kell hovered close behind the man, slightly overtaking him in height but primarily due to his boots and helmet. They stepped through the dirty crowded streets with most people moving just slightly enough for the two to pass through the middle of crowd. Kell's helmet got him few stares these days as the memory of the Republic had begun to fair and the shininess of his helmet began to move towards a more dull metallic grey, though he supposed his helmet was never very white to begin with. But then Correl suddenly stopped and Kell had to stop himself from running into him. It only took him a second to figure out why, the man had frozen in fear. To their left a group of Blackened Stars had grabbed a girl and were holding a knife to her throat. He figured that the hostile gang members had spooked him but he found a much more interesting detail rather quickly. There was a Mandolorian talking to the group in Mando'a. That made him pause for a moment. He hadn't heard that since.... well the clone wars. Kell quickly brushed off the memory and put his hand on the clients back. "They don't care about us right now, let's not give them a reason to."

Correl took this as him being told to move forward. Truth be told they looked busy and hopefully the Mandolorian would handle the group so he didn't have to on his way back. But then Correl spoke up "You should kill those dogs, they aren't worthy to touch a Human like that!"

"Pay me, otherwise keep moving." Kell quickly responded with his voice being modulated by the helmet. Correl grunted and kept moving forward obeying his order. This was really not a good place not to get into fight when out numbered, they would be surrounded pretty quickly and killed or captured. Kell had no intention of dying in some stingy basement asking for a bullet. Besides they weren't that far away from the brothel anyway, he could get his whore and they could be out of here sooner if he didn't have to kill people. The two continued moving through the crowd leaving the situation behind and making a gradual pace to the brothel.

When they finally entered the doors of the whorehouse he followed Correl till he could talk to a waitress, he wasn't exactly sure what he asked her for but he was busy scoping out the room. Aside from the red Mandolorian standing against a wall he didn't see much security. Which surprised him given the place's reputation, he figured it wouldn't be long before a couple of members of the the other gangs dashed the mando's head against a rock and took the place over. Though that wasn't to say he had never heard of the Mandolorian before. There were a few tales attributed to him but he was a believer in tales being meaningless stories about events that may or may not have happened. He had even considered the possibility that it wasn't a real Mandolorian in the suit. Though he couldn't be sure, he wasn't a jedi after all. But this line of thinking brought his mind back to the Mando'a words spoken outside. Turned back to his charge and saw him being lead off by a blue skinned Twi'lek with the grin of a nerf herder's on his face. Taking this as his signal not to follow the clone made his way over to the bar and took his helmet off and set it down on the counter with a credit chit he had pulled from his waist. "Something to take the edge off." In reality he hadn't planned to drink anything but if he was going to be left alone with his thoughts for an hour he needed a way to keep the ghosts away.

"Isn't it beautiful, Zolar? All of these visitors are here in our greatness, a show of the Cartel's greatness."

Zolar looked around the large room, filled with at least a hundred people. While he would much prefer looking through a scope deep in the wilderness, the Cartel was something of urban royalty on 3030 and he supposed there were worse jobs. A Rodian approached Gorro, a fiery look in his eye, hand in his pocket. Zolar couldn't help but be amused and whispered to Gorro in Huttese "Get a load of this Nerf-Herder." The Rodian stopped in front of Gorro, his hand shaking in his pocket and yelled in Rodese ":This is for my brother you slime rat!:" Zolar moved incredibly fast as the Rodian yanked out his blaster pistol. The Gank grabbed onto the rodian's shooting arm with an iron grip and twisted it to the left, hard, causing the Rodian to scream in pain. Zolar then sent a knee into the alien's crotch, which caused the assailant to bend forward. He finished it off with a devastating elbow to the Rodian's spine, dropping the blue alien to his knees. Spinning around, still having his arm in an iron grip, he twisted it and pulled out his blaster pistol. He was now behind the Rodian and aiming his weapon at the back of his head, the foolish alien's arm slowly being fractured by Zolar's strength.

The Rodian begin to cry out in pain as his arm was being accosted until Zolar snapped ":SILENCE!:" in Rodese, which quickly shut him up and he was reduced to a small whimper. The rest of the room had gone silent, watching the scene. Zolar looked up to Gorro, saying in Huttese "Would you like me to kill this worm?"

The Stars looked at each other, considering their actions, the girl may have been worth taking to turn her into a slave, but it wasn't worth their lives. Even if the armored man wasn't an actual Mandolorian, he was still armed and ready. Perhaps they would keep an eye on him and he girl, watch them from afar, then jump them when they least expected it. The armor would be worth a ton of credits if was genuine. The thug with his knife to Tanya's neck smiled, then tucked the knife into its sheath.

"You're not worth it, neither is she," He then accentuated the words by pushing her towards Mar. "You should keep her closer, 3030 is no place for a girl to wander." Then the Stars disappeared into the crowds.

---

The attempted assassination caused the hutt to smile, then break into a deep laugh, the kind that only came from a twisted glutton. The deep noise broke the tension in the room, though everyone within the room still had their eyes on Zolar and the Rodian. Gorro was far from the merciful kind, they expected the assassin to suffer, they just wanted to know just how terrible his suffering would be. While the civilians within the room watched, those pledged to the Cartel had their eyes even closer on it. As soon as the Rodian had drawn the blaster, they too had their weapons ready and aimed. One previously unseen man leaned over the balcony from above, his rifle drawn. The hutt didn't go cheap on security, and those in his Cartel say protecting their great leader as the highest honor. Just the thought that he would trust them with his sacred life.

"You are bold, Rodian, I will give you that. Stupid though," Goro said in his native tongue, his translator turning the words into Basic as they were spoken. "Have him branded with our prestigious emblem, then hung outside where those that think they can defeat me can gaze upon him."

Goro laughed again as the assassin was pulled out of the room by some of those loyal to him. They would do exactly as he asked, take hotflesh to the fool's skin, where everyone would be able to see the mark. It was an utterly gruesome way to go, but not out of the norm within 3030. The hutt could have gone even more brutal, but he claimed he was a civilized slug. As the silence in the room disipated and it returned to normality, he spoke to his bodyguard.

"Excellent work, Zolar. I wonder if the fool actually believed he would be able to harm me?"

Mar was still tempted to shoot the bastards in the back, he knew without a doubt that he would have used to. To demonstrate it he grabbed one of the pistols on his hip, he caught the stare Tanya gave him and raised his hands in mock surrender. "You know I wouldn't do it." He walked over to her so he could get a better look at her neck, examining where the man had traced the knife down her neck. "If he had left a mark on your neck, then we might have seen trouble." He shrugged as he turned to cross the street, while Tanya was as tough as a Mandalorian and pretty much as stubborn as one he noticed that she was walking decidedly closer to him than she had been before and her right arm was ready on her pistol ready to draw. He really needed to get her some form of melee weapon, something other than a lightsaber that just screamed look at me! I'm probably a Jedi and have a massive bounty on my head!

They walked in silence for several minutes before Tanya spoke up. "How comes you didn't shoot them?" Mar turned to face her, slightly taken aback by the comment. It was uncharacteristically cruel for her. Obviously being back here had her on edge.

"What do you mean?" He stepped slightly closer to her as someone came walking towards them, preventing the alien from walking between him and his ward.

"The Stars, why didn't you just shoot them?"

"Did you want me to?" The question was sincere, it wasn't rhetorical. Mar stopped walking as he turned to face her. "Did you want me to shoot them?"

"Well, no but... they could have hurt me." When she said this she looked down at the ground, away from his faceplate. Whether out of shame, embarassment or genuine sadness was the question.

"If they moved to hurt you, I would have dropped them where they stood." She looked up at him when he said that, he couldn't read his face for once. Jedi powers would have been pretty handy, he wasn't going to lie. She rarely used them nowadays, and he understood why but they were bound to be useful on occasion. "I won't let anything happen to you, but did you want me to shoot them anyway?"

There was a moment of silence between them, in the distance the unmistakable cracks of blasterfire as two rival gangs likely went toe to toe against one another. The few speeders that inhabited 3030 could be heard too for miles due to their condition. He didn't press her to speak, he was in no hurry. This was her mission, something she needed to do and he doubted that this would be the only test she faced in this forsaken pit of humanity and whatever other lifeforms crawled through the muck.

"I don't know, kind'a. You know what the shabuir you were hunting wanted to do to me when you first came here?" The use of the Mandalorian word in the middle of the sentence only slightly lightened the mood, he noticed now her fists were clenched and he caught the sight of a distinct tear in her eye. He didn't stop it though, she needed this. "I was eight. I was scared, and I was alone. I had watched everything I knew-" Her voice was starting to rich in pich slightly, and was becoming jagged... broken. "-Everything I loved torn to pieces for betraying the Republic-"

Still listening, but also cautious Mar was scanning the horizon as she said that, the last thing he wanted was for someone to hear that and recall the infamous Jedi Plot to then put one and one together before trying to get rich on an exceedingly rare bounty. "and then, this... this gangbanger felt that a little shop was his for the taking. That my life was his." She dropped her head, tears readily flowing.

Mar put his hand on her shoulder as she finished and used his right hand to lightly lift her chin up to face him. "There is a saying. Ke barjurir gar'ade, jagyc'ade kot'la a dalyc'ade kotla'shya. Have I told you what that one means yet? Or can you figure it out?"

She shook her head, and he just smiled at her.

"Train your sons to be strong, and your daughters to be stronger." He could already see some of the same joy he had seen in the speeder return to her face. "You are far stronger than most others your age Ad'ika. Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, for as long as I draw breath nothing shall happen to you and you will become strong. I am here in Thirty-Thirty for you, we can deal with the Stars later. However if we were to do so now, it would hinder our process as we would be fighting Stars at every turn." He removed his hand from her shoulder, however was slightly taken aback as she then jumped forward and embraced him into a hug.

Normally he wouldn't show such signs of affection in public, but he allowed himself to hug her back for a moment before clearing his throat and leaning back. "Now, come on. I know the perfect place to get information, Zams Brothel."

Tanya raised her eyebrow "Is now really the time to get back into the game Mar?" She then let out a laugh as they started walking towards the brothel. He slapped her on the shoulder playfully.

"You know well and good, that four things make people talk-" He raised four fingers waiting for her to recite the four like a child in school.

And she did, raising a finger as she mentioned each one. "Drugs, Money, Pain and Women." He gave her a thumbs up before turning his hand to his side.

"-Exactly right, now we're going to somewhere where all four come into play."

"I thought Zams Brothel didn't let people take spice-" He turned to face her, his helmet tilted in the most questioning posture he could muster while wearing a helmet. "-I may have been eight when I was last here but I still heard things, that I kind of remember. Of course I had no idea what a brothel is but it's a handy little bit of information." She held her head up at that and stuck out her chest a little obviously proud of herself for remembering.

"While you're right and they don't allow spice, they allow the most potent drug of all. Taken by most adult beings across the galaxy!" He raised his arms up at this in an over-extravagant gesture, he didn't even need to look at her to picture the moment she suddenly realized what he was getting on about, and she merely muttered one word.

"Alcohol."

Mar nodded. "Exactly, the most commonly used truth serum in the entire galaxy."

Krenn’s four hands where in motion constantly. Two worked the ship’s controlls while a third was working the power distributer. The fourth was just relieving Krenn from a terrible itch on his lower back as the ash of the cigar protruding from his mouth was calling to be disposed, giving rise to the thought that one can just not have enough hands.

“Come on shields, you can make it.”

Krenn muttered to himself as he made a barrel roll in the hope of evading the pursuing laser cannons. The sentence made the ash of his cigar drop on his smudged white wife-beater. A few flashy manoeuvres got him clear for a moment, relieving him of one alarm in the orchestra of beeps and sirens. A sudden dive followed as his two right hands moved away from the navi-computer and one tapped off his cigar in a small ashtray on the freighters dashboard. The other runs a small diagnostic on the ship’s systems console.

“You got to be kidding me, already overheating!?”

A few additional taps rerouted some cooling fluids to the rear deflector shields as the itch was finally gone. It left Krenn with a small moment for a reflective fuzzing of the hairs as his lower left arm takes over from his upper left arm on the controls to do so. Spread before him was the cityscape of Coruscant, it’s soft edged towers rising in the distance. Unfortunately they also came up right before Krenn as he set out another zig-zag around one to shake the pursuing TIEs.

“Persistent fuckers….”

A glance at his navi-computer showed him that a massive ventilation shaft was just coming up, he knew it was a dead end, but up was no option, he would come into range of the planetary lasers and the Star Destroyers in Orbit. Running a chase in the upper levels of Coruscant could keep the Imps busy for a while, but eventually he would be boxed in, and he knew the penalty for the things he pulled. So down it was.



“This is Coruscant Traffic control, continue your path to marker Y-2790, than slave your ship to frequency 7201XF, Any deviation will be handled appropriately.”
Krenn’s ship had just jumped out of hyperspace in Coruscant’s orbit. He had to travel there via a security station in the Deep Core, where his ship was checked and luckily his secret cargo remained undiscovered. Things would be easy from here on out, but still Krenn was tense.
“Will do Control, Marker Y-2790, than frequency 7201XF.”
He let go of the comms button, rolled his eyes and added an:
“Or else you will blacken my ship and fry my corpse with lasers. No wonder this pays well.”
Coruscant was still a majestic sight, he had seen it on Holos but never up close like this. Were it under more relaxed circumstances Krenn might have enjoyed it.
As planned the ship was slaved to the agreed upon unloading dock, an open air facility where the storage would be stowed under the platform. Though the exchange began uneventful they were thoroughly disturbed when their business was interrupted by an imperial patrol. A quick search would have yielded nothing out of order, had the Chagrian buyer not insisted upon sampling the spice. Scanners indicated a small traces of Thyssel Bark on one of the crates and the whole party was apprehended. Krenn had positioned himself near his ship just for such an event and while the patrol was apprehending the buyers, Krenn made a run for it.
The folly of that soon became clear.



As the edge of the vent came up beneath Krenn’s customized TD-23 Mantis, a ship that boasted 3 arm-mounted engines in addition to the on board hyperspace engine. The co-ordination of 3 of Krenn’s hands was required to have his lower engine reverse direction while the upper two kept propelling, steering him sharply down, than boosting all three engines forward. He shot into the vent as the two TIE’s were taken by surprise, and had to make larger turns to pursue.

“Get out of the way!”

Krenn shouted as his ship narrowly missed a passenger craft just coming up, a few sharp turns set him clear of some more traffic, but
Laser cannon bolts where already raining down on his rear-deflector, and he noticed that they had short-circuited.

“No, no no no! Not now!”

He was quickly descending level after level, but the TIE’s were way more manoeuvrable trough the traffic of the vent and systems went down in quick succession as shots rained down upon the ship. Krenn pulled the ship up to become level, all, three engines turning to maintain upward propulsion. The ship shrieked in protest that was followed by a loud crash of the ship bumping into something, Krenn hoped it was a TIE. Sparks flew out of one of the panels overhead while clicked off his seatbelt and pushed out of his already turning seat.

“Sorry old buddy, time to let you go.”

A few steps over the upper deck of the Mantis (mere grated steel over his cargo hold) showed him the damage his ship had sustained. Tears welled up, but his determination set him to pull the large lever of his upper cargo-hatch. Air rushed through the opening with deafening force.


Read the holo-signs he passed, accompanied by the access platforms. The secondary propulsion controls, meant for docking the ship with the upper hatch responded slowly, he added propulsion to bring him closer to the platforms in this fall and the drop steadied.



He near missed the platform with his arm-mounted engine, steering to get into position to jump on the next one, but a flash of green rocked the ship and left Krenn with all four hands grasping the hatch.



“FUCK!”

A second shot of the volley hit the ship and Krenn let go, flailing to keep a semblance of balance in mid-air as a platform sped up beneath him.

He hit it with a loud smack, black smoke completely blinding him when he bothered to open his eyes wide while grasping for air. Krenn lay there for a while, half-chocking on the smoke, but desperately trying to breathe. How he willed himself up is still unknown, but as the smoke started to clear there was it before him. Sprawling like a huge underground cavern filled with towers, speeders and holo-commercials. Krenn steadied himself on a nearby edge, eying some bystanders come and look for the origins of the smoke. A Weequay came up to him, asking what was happening and Krenn looked at him after a good rub in his eyes.

“I-“

A coughing fit prevented him from uttering more, while he pointed shakily over the railing.

“Don’t know, - probably a ship-“

He coughed up ‘crash’ but the weequay was already looking over the railing, his face suddenly lighting up orange, and heat surged passed moments later.

“Yeah, that’s a crash alright.”

When the weequay looked over his shoulder Krenn was already stumbling into the underworld. One hand on the railing, the others hanging by his side helplessly as his eyes steadied on a holo-sign by the platform.

Hutt Territory, Level 3030

Shakka came stumbling out of another winding alleyway back into the crowded streets of 3030. Taking a frantic look about she moved back into the crowd, one hand resting down upon where her DH-23 sat holstered to her hip the press of the metal and it’s heavy weight almost comforting in the moment. She scanned the horizon looking around for any eyes watching her in the distance, unnerved and put on edge. She was back at least in Gorr’s Territory which should've meant relative safety, not that she loved the Hutt or the Hutt held any love for her but the Pure Hands as crazy as they were wouldn't come searching for her in here. But it still didn't mean that somebody else would try and jump her, if not for the datapad then her just looking like an easy mark. A young girl injured and looking frantic, some easy credits in that.

She continued following the crowd down the street getting bumped along by the current of people heading every which way towards their respective destinations. Shakka liked crowds, how in a strange way they seemed to bring people together. As soon as you stepped into a
mass of people you became a little cog in an impressively large and complex machine. It didn't matter who you were: bounty hunter, smuggler, Empire’s most wanted , death stick dealer. You all became a single cohesive identity for only a moment. There was a safety in crowds as long as you knew how not to stand out.

After some time she parted with the crowds following down a less busy side street. She stopped in front of a small shop tucked away in a corner. The outside seemed to be in disarray surrounded by what appeared to be droid parts of various models: half the chassis of a GNK power droid, the limp humanoid body of a TC series and even what seemed to be a deactive B1 Battle Droid shoved to one side upon the crate. On the lone square window set into the frame of the shop scrawled in sloppy Aurebesh, Ta’rin’s Repair and Mercantile. A rotating camera swiveled by the entrance focused upon Shakka’s face for a moment before continuing to rotate about seemingly uninterested in the Twi’lek. Shakka looked about making sure that she wasn't being followed before heading inside the building.

A melodic chime ran through the shop as Shakka entered followed almost immediately by a voice from somewhere deeper in. The inside of Ta’rin’s shop was a cramped affair with shelves reaching the ceiling filled with gears, circuit boards and other long forgotten pieces of technology, the floor in no better shape with haphazardly placed boxes scattered about as if a thermal detonator had gone off only moments before. A single light fixture provided the only small cone of light by the counter at the back of the shop, the rest of the space being cast in different degrees of shadow ever increasing as you moved further towards the door. A heater having malfunctioned long ago and never being fixed runs almost constantly making the entire shop about ten degrees warmer than the already unbearable heat of the undercity.

Shakka made her way through this labyrinth of shelves and spare parts as she moved to the counter. The sound of rummaging and moving feet came closer from somewhere deeper in the building until finally a door shutter open from behind the counter. From this threshold stepped out a large insectoid creature almost 2 meters in height standing upon a pair of long legs that looked so thin that a stiff breeze could crack them. Two pairs of large compound eyes dominated the creature’s face and pair of long antennae sat behind them twitching as he moved feeling the radio waves in the air. His chitinous carapace showed the wear and tear of the year's cracked and healed in some places and having its own share of scares. Long dexterous fingers twiddled about with one another almost constantly as he stepped up to the counter to see who his customer was.

“Shakka Rar, is that you little one? And what brings you to Ta’rin’s little corner of the Undercity today?” The large creature spoke as he peered over the edge of the counter down at Shakka who looked less surprised at his appearance then more annoyed about the time it was taking. Ta’rin was a Verpine, the insectoid race from the Roche asteroid field masters of many forms of technology and creators of some of the most dangerous firearms in the Galaxy. Ta’rin himself was one of the best technologically minded individuals in all of 3030 if not on the entirety of Coruscant. They say there is no droid that Ta’rin can’t fix and no security system that he can’t break. Usually he remains isolated in his little shop working on his own personal projects. but on the rare occasion his skills are needed the gangs will hire him out from a reasonable price. It was on one such job that Shakka and Ta’rin met and after the pair survived almost being killed together became reasonable enough friends. Life and death situations were funny like that.

“Well as you can probably see, I got into a little scrap.” Shakka explained gesturing to the her arm before continuing. “A deal went bad and I got ambushed by a bunch of Pures. I was wondering if I could lay low here for a bit while I patch myself up and reassess my situation.” She pleaded as she looked up at Ta’rin with the best young and innocent child eyes she could muster. The Verpine titled his head to one side almost like a dog as he considered his options before he spoke.

“Shakka Rar is friend of Ta’rin. Shakka saved Ta’rin’s life once and Ta’rin can only try and fulfill his debt. You may stay here for as long as you need and Ta’rin will make sure nobody will find you. Ta’rin has medical supplies in refresher in the back.” The Verpine spoke and if they weren't separated by the counter, and if her arm wasn't still killing her should would've wrapped her arms around the big old insectoid softy. But still she had another favor to ask the Verpine. She didn't just come here to hide away, she needed the Verpine’s technical expertise.

“That’s great Ta’rin! Buttt you say I also have another favor that I need to ask you.” The Twi’lek explained as she reached into her jacket pocket to retrieve the datapad still soaked in the Duro’s blood. She put it upon the desk and Ta’rin long dexterous fingers reached out for it. “You see I need to find out what’s on that datapad, I almost got killed over it and before I make my next move I would like to know what I’m dealing with here. Problem is security on this little guy is real tight. But that shouldn't be a problem for you my genius friend would it?” Shakka asked though she already knew the answer. For all of Ta’rin genius and knowhow with things that Shaka couldn't even begin to comprehend he was still as easy to play as a fiddle. Present him with an intellectual challenge and his own pride would never let him refuse.

“Ta’rin will look into it. But while Ta’rin does you should care to your injury.” The Verpine explained as he gestured to the door. Shakka nodded her thanks before moving around the counter and through the door that Ta’rin had entered through earlier. The shop's backroom was a little bit more organized with the dominant space being taken up by a large operating table upon which a protocol droid lay half-assembled. Probably the Verpine’s latest project. He rebuilt droids from parts he recovered in scrap heaps and from junk traders, usually rewriting their programming for more specialty purposes like infiltration, hacking, assassination. He did them for fun more than anything else but these speciality droids were worth large sums of credits to the right people. Moving past the operating table she entered the refresher. Small even for her it most of been a tight fight for the towering Verpine but one couldn't really complain about space in 3030 you dealt with what you had.

Opening the small cabinet/mirror combination on the wall she produced a small series of medical supplies. As she began to clean the wound, she hummed a small tune to herself. A memory of her past that seemed to be a lifetime distant. When her surroundings were green and brown instead of her grey and black, a time before Geonosis, before the Clone Wars, before the Empire. When things were simpler.



“Mooooom! Shakka fell again!” A small green figure called out to Fee’nra as he ran past her and made his way around the corner of the farmhouse probably to go find his father. She sighed as she looked outward and saw a small blue figure approaching her in the distance. Rising to her feet she walked with a gentle grace to close the distance. Vyso and Shakka most have been playing too rough again and like normal one of them had to get hurt. It was usually Shakka of course, her youngest child always trying to keep up with Vyso her elder by five years. The little Twi'lek girl approached her now, clothes covered in mud and holding her right arm, eyes red with tears. Fee’nra knelt down as she approached her taking the little girl into her arms and lifting her easily into the air. An earthen mixture of her green skin and her child taking after her father’s blue skin.

“Now what happened this time Shakk'arar?” Fee’nra asked her voice gently and sing songy as she looked into the little girl’s eyes. It had a pretty obvious answer, her arm had a fairly decent scrap on it probably was running and lost her balance. But it was better if Shakka told her, help get it out of her system and calm her down a bit. The girl drawn in air through her nose small hands wrapped around her mother’s neck as the pair moved back down the small dirt road back to their house.

“I was... I was chasing after Vyso, because he called me stupid. But he ran away too fast, so I had to try and catch up to him and.. and I tripped on a hole in the ground and I feel. And now my arm really hurts!” The girl explained to her mother trying to hold back another bout of tears as she pointed to her arm. Fee’nra shook her head as she continued down the path. Sounded like a relatively normal occurrence, though she did make a mental note to talk to Vyso about making fun of his sister after dinner. Shakka had always been an emotional child and it was very easy to provoke her and Vyso had endless fun with it. Gentle teasing of course but he still needed to know that his job was to look after Shakka not goade her into getting more hurt.

When they reached the steps to the house, Fee’nra set Shakka down as she moved into the house to go grab the small medical kit. It was still out on the table after Ilarra had cut himself with the cutting torch earlier. That stoopa Twi'lek’s accident prone genes would be the end of them all some day. Packing the supplies back up into the small case, she made a small detour into the kitchen before heading outside. In one hand she had the medical kit and in the other hand she held a small plump muja fruit, fresh from the bush that they had picked earlier. She tossed the fruit over to Shakka who caught it before greedily biting into it. Now preoccupied Fee’nra went off to work cleaning the wound and preparing to patch it up. As she did she began to sing a small song that her own father had used to sing back on Ryloth.

“My brave little soldier marches off to war....”



Shakka sighed as she finished treating the blaster wound, the humming dying away and the imaginary taste of muja fruit upon her lips. It was then that she heard a commotion coming from the front of the shop. Looking around her put her jacket back on and took her blaster from the counter and put it in her hands. Crouching forward she moved to the door peering through the crack between she looked inside to see what was going on. Her breath was caught somewhere in her chest as she saw two Pures standing in front of Ta’rin. It was near suicidal for them to come this far into Hutt territory. One of them was a large male with his hair cut in a sharp military cut, dark skin and strong deep green eyes. His companion was a female with a shaved head and a body covered in tattoos, the male had a blaster pistol out in one hand and the female held what seemed to be a shock stick waiting for the opportunity to strike. Ta’rin on the other hand seemed as calm as ever. Pressing her ear against the door, Shakka struggled to listen to the words coming out.

“Now listen here you karking bug face. I’m not going to ask you nicely one more time, have you seen a Twi’lek girl around her, blue skin about maybe yeah high and probably injured?” Military cut asked his voice sounding less threatening and more annoyed.

“Ta’rin, tell you what Ta’rin tell you first five times. Nobody has come into Ta’rin’s humble shop today except for you two brutes. Trust Ta’rin he remembers all faces coming in and out.” The Verpine explained without missing a beat. Shakka was surprised, she always figured Ta’rin wouldn't be able to keep his cool in a situation like this but he seemed to be doing just fine.

“While I think your lying and I don’t like it when aliens lie to me, you sniveling piece of poodoo.” Military cut explained getting angerer as he raised his blaster pistol at Ta’rin. Shakka wanted to run out and help but the smarter coward inside of her told her to say put and see how the situation resolved itself. Shakka watched as out of the Pures perspective Ta’rin pressed a button underneath his desk. Almost immediately there was a mechanical groan as spare parts shifted behind the Verpine and on the shelf two large automatic turrets came to life and trained on the two intruders.

“Ta’rin suggest that you leave know. Ta’rin has much work he needs to get done and Ta’rin very powerful friends would not like it if that work came in late.” The Verpine spoke and if his face could grin it would be at the moment as the two Pures looked at each other as the tide had suddenly turned and not in their favor.

“Come on let’s go. Bug isn't worth it and besides Daxar is waiting for us to check in.” Tattoo girl spoke putting a hand on military cut who looked at Ta’rin then towards the exit, before sighing and holstering his blaster and stomping out of the shop with tattoo girl in tow. After waiting a couple minutes to make sure they didn't come back, Shakka stepped through the door and back into the front of the shop. Ta’rin looking at her nodded and gestured for her to come over.

“You make some interesting friends Shakka.” The verpine spoke in a tone that sounded almost amused as he fiddled around with the datapad that he had been given earlier. Shakka sighed as she slid into place next to him looking at the data pad.

“Yeah, you can say that again Ta’rin. All part of the karking job I guess. So made any progress with the datapad yet?” She asked her associate even though it was obvious he had because he was scanning through the data seemingly intrigued by the whole thing.

“Of course Ta’rin did. Security measures were basic compared to Ta’rin skill. A measly 42-7 Sullustan Cipher. A hatchling could've broken into this. But the contents inside, those are most interesting. If Ta’rin can ask who did you get this from?” The technician asked as he fished around before finding a large cable which he attached to the datapad and as it did a large display stirred to life showing a continuous string of 18 digit number sequences falling to the ground.

“Nobody important.... but Ta’rin what is this, was I just getting paid and almost killed to deliver numbers?” Shakka asked as she observed the numbers and Ta’rin made a clicking sound with his mandibles almost sounding like a tsk tsk. As he froze the display and pointed at one of the number lines with his long fingers.

“Much more complicated than that little one. These sequences are not just random numbers. These are Imperial ship credentials and high level ones at that. Using these any smuggler or other less than legal owner could have free reign of the entire galaxy without having to worry about being stopped at checkpoints or even having their ship searched. It would even allow them to get on and off Coruscant with a relative ease Ta’rin has not seen since before the Clone Wars. Very valuable these are. No wonder the Pures are looking for it. But that still doesn't answer the question of how Shakka retrieved them.” The Verpine asked as he tilted his head at Shakka. And almost on cue a call came in on her comlink. Looking down Shakka recognized the frequency almost immediately it was Inanjoma probably having just got the news about the ambush and subsequent failure of the deal. Shakka raised a finger up to Ta’rin requesting silence as she accepted the call. Speaking in Ryl she announced as calmly as possible. Ready to the face the storm head on.

<<You’ve reached Shakk'arar courier extraordinaire. How may I help you?>>

Sit down.

Goggles on.

Time to crack those knuckles.

Those claws still need clipping.

What's the time? 8:59 AM. Only a minute.

The automated overnight music broadcast was still going, recycling everything he'd been playing yesterday for the benefit of those insomniacs and people with habits. Of course, just cutting right in would be no good. Unprofessional, even. There has to be a smooth transition, especially in the morning.

Less than twenty seconds remained. The song that was playing suddenly found its beat looping, thanks to outside intervention, which managed to mask the sudden transition to the end quite well. Obviously everyone listening knew what that meant, but that was no excuse for half-assing things.

What does the clock say now? Only seven seconds. It was time to ready that switch.

5... 4... 3... 2... 1.



"Friends, Humans, Aliens! Where's the place the sun ain't shining unless a machine tells you it is? That's right, it's 3030! And my machine is telling me it is... 9:00 AM. You're listening to Radio 'Lectric 30, with me, Doctor Dyno! I'm not a real doctor, but I'm definitely here to ease your pain. The pain of climbing up those figurative jagged rocks before you get to the figurative light... 'cause the light certainly ain't coming down here!"

Dyno paused for a moment to fold his arms and grin to himself a bit. Yet another perfect intro! But this was only the beginning; no call to get cocky. He sidled along the seat at his broadcasting station, reached over and grabbed some papers he'd prepared just after breakfast. They had a bit of a greasy stain on them, but who'd notice? That was one advantage Radio had over TV; no need to waste so much time looking presentable. Sounding presentable, that was different, he knew. He was lucky his voice, while it had that distinctive lizardlike drawl and a bit of an accent that made him pronounce his 'R's very harshly, was still overall quite comprehensible.

"I tell you what has just fallen into my hands: a stack of paper with 'NEWS' written at the top in very messy handwriting. You know what means? It means I'm not very good at handwriting, but, more importantly, it means it's time to give you some news, or as I like to call it, the 'unhappy bit'."

He said this to the listeners in an excited tone, of course making sure he didn't break it when he made the self-deprecating joke. Truth was, his face had already begun to grimace a bit. 'Why's there never anything that's both good news and newsworthy news?' He'd always think to himself. Every time.

"I know I've said this before..." He began again, momentarily dropping his excited tone to sound more matter-of-fact, "...But a sudden and unexpected resurgence in complaints has convinced me to reiterate: I do not report on Gang activity unless it affects the rest of us in some way. There's plenty of radio stations that cover that already, and much better than me. I mean, have you heard how they report? Such zeal! It's almost as if they're in a war or something. But that'd be stupid, wouldn't it, listeners?" He posed them a question in an obviously sarcastic manner, lest it fly over someone's head. Of course it'd fly over someone's head anyway, but at least they'd look like an idiot in front of everyone and not just him.

"Here's the top story." He started reading out his greasy bit of paper, scratching his neck a bit in embarassment, if only because this 'top story' was quite late. His news sources weren't exactly award-winning, but he had always vowed to maintain at least some standards. Not like the Gang stations were much better.

"...Two nights ago, a robbery was committed near the border with Siren Clan territory, around the 22nd Quarter. Now, robberies aren't especially remarkable, I hear you saying, so what makes this one so special? Well, this is where it gets interesting. The target of the robbery was an Armoured Landspeeder; a witness handed this information to me via my special friend downstairs; thank you, Teema. Apparently, it occurred at around midnight, or so the clocks said. The inhabitants of a nearby apartment building were woken up by the sound of an explosion. Most of the residents began to hide from the chaos, as is the sane response, but one resident managed to catch a look at what happened next. From their description, four armed men, dressed in black and their faces hidden, then shot the guards inside the armoured speeder; female, apparently; and removed two large packages from the back compartment before melting into the shadows.

The lower floors of the apartment were severely damaged from the crash, and three people were injured: Pog Tangosk, Aytcheh Shoetland and Udonna Stuu. Apparently, all three of them were near the main entrance, whereupon the crash showered them with glass and knocked a water supply line out of place, flooding the entire bottom floor of the apartment. Pog was reportedly blinded in all three eyes by high-pressure water.

Just goes to show how unpredictable life is, eh? One minute everything's all good, the next, you're wading knee-deep through grimy water in your living room, stinking up the place, and you end up tripping over and giving yourself a faceful of the stuff because you're now blind. Who could have guessed that would happen, I wonder? Just know that I'm rooting for ya. I'd come help, but my tech skills don't really go much further than Swoop Bikes and Synthtone Boards, boom-boom-tik-a-tik."

Dyno turned his page over and smiled to himself again. In any other news organisation, no-one would bother mentioning a measly three victims of an accident by name. But Dyno did it anyway, because it reminded the people that the Gang's activities were not harmless; their victims were real people, with real names and real consequences. Though he did shamefully admit to himself, mentally, that the image of the high-pressure water blinding someone was actually a little funny.

"Next, there has also been some reports of a robed, indistinct man carrying what has been described as an oversized blue glowstick that can cleave through bodies and machinery effortlessly. The figure is also believed to have been witnessed using his mind to pick up Gang members and break their necks against the floor. No sign of any bodies, though, and my source had refused to identify themselves, so it's still up in the air whether or not this figure exists or is just a Herb-induced hallucination. In all honesty, I personally believe it's the latter. I mean, I once took Herb on Saleucami, and before I knew it there were glowsticks growing out of the karking swamp! But you never know."

It was always important, in Dyno's mind, to pepper 'serious' segments of his show with some anecdotes like that. Makes him much more relatable when you admit that, yes, you're not above the influence either, in more ways than one.

"Finally, I've also been told that a large section of the 103rd Quarter has now been evacuated due to an out-of-control infestation of Duracrete Worms reducing a number of apartment buildings to rubble. So far, only one resident of these apartments is unaccounted for; I don't know his name, but he is apparently an Utai. Not many Utai are seen around these parts, so this may be time for a Public Service Announcement; my favourite!" He said faux-excitedly again, audibly clapping his scaly hands together.

"The Utai, they're a rather short people, naturally. They tend to have skin ranging from golden to a more... muted pink. They're a hairless species; their heads are oblong-shaped and slope forward, and their eyes are mounted on distinctive stalks." Dyno took another moment to pause, coming to a rather inconvenient realisation. One that'd he share, of course. "...Yeah, believe me, you have no idea how hard it is for me to describe a species in words without sounding racist, heh. But anyway, if you see anyone fitting that description in the area, you should go take a closer look, see if they're okay. Don't worry about the Duracrete Slugs; they're far more interested in the local architecture than they are in you, and I believe that the K-Bros. Extermination Service is on the case, so hang in there, boys and girls!"

Dyno abruptly tossed away his paper, making a mental note to add to his food-wrapping collection later. Once again, he clapped his hands, now legitimately excited that'd he'd gotten past the 'unhappy bit' relatively unscathed. At least this time he didn't have to talk about cannibals.

"...Aaaand that's the end of the news for now. But stay tuned, for there's some MUSIC comin' up! Don't forget noon, when I, for the first time since last week, will be taking calls! That's right, for just one day untilnextweek" He announced grandiosely, except for the quick, under-his-breath part at the end, so thinly-veiled so as to draw attention to it, "...You can call in and ask me whatever the hell you want! Or you can constructively criticise me, that'd be great. Or you could yell in my face about something, that'd also be great. I take all comers!"

Now for his favourite part. Dyno put on a big grin as he leaned forward to start fiddling the music selection Terminal on his right.

"But that's enough yakety-yak from me. It's time to get some 'Lectric tunes in this house, that I was so excited about I yelled MUSIC back there. Remember, you've been listening to DJ Dyno at Radio 'Lectric 30! Electrifying the spirit of Coruscant, one decibel at a time!"

As the tune began, Dyno removed his headset and leaned back in his seat, happily putting his feet on the table and bopping his head back and forth. He looked to his right and noticed an unused Herbal cigar. His hand almost instinctively reached over for it, but he stopped himself. It was only 9:12, damnit. Though it did draw his attention to his claws again; they were way too sharp. They could leave a scratch on something.

"...Kark it." He mumbled to himself as he got up and headed to his bathroom, making sure the music was a volume high enough so that he could hear it from the other side of the apartment. He knew that this would annoy him for the rest of the day if he didn't sort it out.

Zolar left Gorro's palace, loading a clip into his pistol. He had a special assignment from the Hutt and he gladly took it. While he would never admit it to Gorro, Zolar missed traveling the stars in search of dangerous bounties. But he shouldn't complain, he has a good thing going. Safety, steady pay, a place to stay. Still, there has been some nights where he yearned to leave 3030. He made his way through the streets of 3030, moving through the crowds. He took a shortcut through an alley. He would be able to cut his travel time in half. But a human stepped out from behind a trash bin, armed with a modified blaster pistol. Zolar stopped, looking at him for a moment. His helmet's sensors picked up movement behind him and as he turned, he saw two more humans step out of the buildings that towered over them. He heard the rattle of metal and looked up to see yet another human, equipped with dual blaster pistols. Zolar began to suspect what was happening. He turned back to the first human, his hand resting on his own blaster rifle. "Can I help you?" he asked menacingly, speaking galactic basic.

The first human, a dark skinned man with a military style Mohawk, chortled as he looked around at his companions.

"Look at this fellas, the cyber-monster can speak basic. I'm impressed. Say, don't you work for that fucking slug, Gorro?"

Zolar's eyes narrowed as he started to analyze the situation. He was surrounded, and if these humans were natives to 3030, they were all good with a gun. He took in his surroundings as he replied "I would advise you talk about the leader of the Scarred Cartel with a little more respect, who knows who could be listening." Zolar saw a door leading into an apartment complex to his right. If they started firing, that would be his best bet. They had a tactical advantage on him and can easily gun him down.

"Oh is that so, piss-fur? Yeah, I've seen what you freaks look like under your armor and cybernetics. We'll be doing the galaxy a favor taking you out."

Zolar's hand drifted to his belt, a smoke grenade ready to be detonated. "If you try to kill me it will be the last mistake of your miserable life." He stated plainly. The human smirked and quickly snapped his blaster rifle up, firing a shot towards him. Zolar pressed the activation button the the smoke grenade and flung it towards him, the blaster bolt colliding with it midair, engulfing the Gank in smoke. Zolar sprinted to the right, readying his blaster rifle and shoulder rammed the flimsy door, it flying open as he sprinted down the dismal hall. He heard blaster fire follow him down the hall. Zolar ducked behind a crate and set up on top of it, aiming his blaster rifle down the hall. He saw the humans sprinting down the hall. He allowed himself a sinister grin as he switched his IQA-11 to automatic and he looked down the sights. He pulled on the trigger. Red bolts flew down the hallway, the dual wielder was leading the way and immediately collapsed to the ground, the blaster exploding on his chest. The human behind him scrambled backwards, the first one falling on his legs. The human yelped and his head exploded in flame as Zolar's rifle ended another life.

By this time, the remaining three scrambled for cover in the narrow hallway. The Assassin aimed at a poor fool who didn't know what to do and pulled the trigger, sending him crashing to the floor. The last two returned fire and Zolar ducked behind the crate, blaster fire exploding over his head. Zolar peeked around the bottom of the crate, blasting a human who had gotten to confident. His body thumped to the ground. Now only the dark skinned human was left.

"H-hey man, m-maybe we can work something out, we don't have t-" he was cut off by Zolar's vengeful blaster beam exploding in his face, sending him into the wall. Dead. The Gank stood up, surveying the hallway. He heard a door open behind him and an elderly looking Rodian was staring at the scene. The Rodian looked at him and at the dead humans, then closed the door again. Zolar's comm binged with an incoming call. He slung his blaster rifle and activated his comm. "Zolar here."

"Hey Zolar, got an order from the boss. Forget about Dyno, The Pures got a guy named Correl. He needs to be eliminated." Zolar smiled and replied "Perfect timing, I was just jumped by a squad of Pures. Tell the boss he's as good as dead." He switched off the comm and made his way past the corpses of the humans, making his way out of the complex.

‘3030 Thats a lot of levels down’
Krenn was thinking as he spit out a glob of black phlegm he just coughed up.

“Raah”

He rasped his throat, spitting out some more of the smoke-tainted phlegm. He looked around dazed, the high pitched noise slightly clearing from his ears to make room for sounds that this level had to offer. Krenn decided it was time for some fresh air, and for the purpose he produced a cigar from one of the inner pockets of his long leather coat he wore over his greasy wife-beater. His four hands were just patting down the numerous pockets for matches when he could make a voice out from the background noises:

“I'm not a rreal doctorr, but I'm definitely here to ease yourr pain.”

Krenn looked around lazily, looking for the creature that was uttering the odd sentence. He turned to look around lazily, half expecting a Trandoshan prostitute, and the thought produced a wide grin, interrupted by the cigar clenched between his teeth. When he saw nothing of the sort he traced it down to a group of beings standing near a corner with a small radio. Subconsciously one of his hands had found a set of matches and Krenn lit his cigar, inhaling deep. The fuzziness in his mind started clearing and it was about time to make up inventory. He methodically went over all pockets with his hands to note he still had all four of his blasters, a commlink, some reloads, his lovingly called twin batons; Poker and Clubber, around 6 sets of matches, a flask-

Krenn took a pause from taking inventory to take a good swig, the radio was going over the news about a duracrete worm investation. Judging by the news portrayed so far he was in an environment rich with gangs if the brutal incident described was all the DJ would report. He didn’t know if Imperials would be coming after him. His ship was probably fully disintegrated somewhere on the bottom of that vent, if they hadn’t seen him jump the investigation of the wreckage wouldn’t yield much inspiration to go looking. Getting deeper into town was a good idea any way. Krenn was making a mental note of the now probably deserted 103rd quarter when the owners of the radio were noticing Krenn’s unrelenting stare of deep thought.

“Hey, what are you looking at, listening in is 5 credits mate.”

Said a Twi’lek male that was now approaching, his friends, a Dugg, a Nikto and another Twi’lek grinning after him. Krenn blinked out of his stare, fixing on the Twi’lek.

“S-sorry friend. Rough day, you know how it is. Lost in thoughts.”

Krenn added a small chuckle after it, exhaling his smoke while he started putting back the matches and drinking flask with his upper hands, his lower two slightly hidden behind his coat.

“Oh yes, I know how it is. Try Zam’s, might help clearing your head.”

The Twi’lek chuckled, encouraging smirks to appear on his mates faces. While he pointed deeper into town. Krenn thought hitting up a cantina wouldn’t be such a bad idea at all, get some info, maybe a ride out of here.

“Zam’s huh? Good place? I am fresh of the shuttle.”

Krenn added a polite grin with him, trying to find his mannerisms again even though his chest was still hurting.

“Yes, a very good place. My niece works there. Don’t forget to tip big.”

The second Twi’lek spoke out.
Krenn nodded as he followed the finger pointing him in the direction of what he presumed to be Zam’s cantina.

“Aye, aye. I will if the misses allows it.”

He slapped the pocket of his coat he had a few credits in, and for some reason that sparked a few laughs amongst the small group. Krenn started walking and added with a smile:

“Best of days to you all. That’s even half a decent song you are listening to.”

The Twi’lek waved and called after him.

“Dj Dino mate, he’s the best! Send my regards to Ayalana!”

Krenn held up a thumb as he walked on. To Zam’s cantina it was.

"Ma-a-a-r. Is that you?" Mar hung his head slightly as he heard the characteristic croak of a Gotal. This one seemed to hold a strange elegant tone, something that didn't mix with the often rugged lifestyle of the Gotal. He could feel the marks in the back of his skull where Tanya was currently burning holes with her stare. She was never too happy when an old acquaintance reared it's head, he didn't blame her. A lot of his old friends were from the dark and shady underworld and crawled out of places just like 3030, or places a lot worse. He turned as he dropped his left hand to his whip and used his right to pull his helmet up and off. He flashed a smile at the Gotal.

"Gurak! My old friend!" He raised his free hand up in the air, while keeping his left exactly where it was. He noticed the gotals smile fade slightly as his eyes glanced down at Mars hand so readily within grasping distance of his weapon. Tanya had her hand on her blaster currently too, not that she was a lot of good with it. He really needed to get her a bloody sword of some sort. Though he didn't see how that was possible with all these constant distractions. As the moment of tension continued Mar decided he may as well break the tension, after all. The worst this could come to was a fight and he knew for a fact he could beat the Gotal.

Though his eyes cast up to the two droids protecting him, a strange call for a Gotal. The electromagnetic fields would be playing havoc with his senses, that gave him an advantage as either the droids were on low power or Gurak himself would be slightly disorientated. It was time to press his luck. "So Gurak, how's the Pit doing these days?" The Gotals eyes changed at the mention of the Pit. The Pit wasn't exactly a hole in the ground, not really.

Instead it was the location of what was probably once a warehouse, transformed into a bar with a fighting arena in the middle. While there were other sports available people in 3030 always liked seeing people beat eachother up for some reason, in fact Mar had met Gurak there in a fight. Sometimes he went to extreme lengths to get his bounty. Which he eventually, did, and something else. He cast Tanya a sideways glance at that, the faint hint of a smile in his eyes at that and he quickly returned his attention to the Gotal, before he had he thought he saw the glimmer of a smile on her face and he cursed himself for his moment of weakness.

"The pits are fine. Though your record has been broken for the most fights, when I heard your ship had landed I knew you'd be coming heer and felt I could convince you to pa-aa-y a visit." That got Mars attention. No way Gurak had the kind of pull to get this information, the droids made sense. The Pit Boss quite often had his assets protected when out and about in 3030, just to prevent any untoward dealings with the fighters. Though this? Gurak didn't have this kind of pull. He was just a thug, chased out of his territory by the pures and found himself working in the Pit, the only place Stars and Hutts were welcome and Pures weren't. Though that was only because the Pures had turned many of the fighters into fighters.

Why the Hutts, Stars and all the other gangs got along? Well that was simple. They weren't there to fight, they were there to recruit some of the best fresh blood they could possibly get. He had got offers from both sides several times before he finally cashed out of 3030. He wasn't really interested in some inconsequential pissing match between a couple of big boys (and girls) fighting between this mud-puddle. "Why would you care? Want me to beat you up again?"

Tanya shot him a stare at that, what exactly was going on? Or did she really want to know what was going on. "Meg?" There was no real need for the use of Mando'a, but she knew it and was going to speak it!

Mar leaned towards her slightly "The Pits a bar, they set up fighting there. Place bets, it's all a good laugh. This guy-" He nodded his head towards Gurak "-Is another fighter, I beat him up several times over the course of several weeks."

Gurak just laughed, gods a Gotal laughing was annoying. It was like letting a Togorian Muck-Leech burrow into his ear, without the added bonus of never having to hear a Gotal laughing ever again. "No, No. You misundersta-aa-nd me my friend. I now own the pit."

Mar just looked at Tanya, that look of pleading in her eyes despite showing nothing on her face. He had to give her credit, unless you knew her the girl gave nothing away. She'd be a good hunter, or preferably something else, one day. "I'm afraid not today Gurak. I'm here on business, hunting a mark and I don't think fighting is going to help me find it this time." He turned around placing his helmet back on his head and began walking away, however he stopped dead when he heard the words Gurak spoke next.

"I know who you're looking for."

Zolar climbed the back ladder to the roof of the building across the street from Zam’s brothel. He knew where the brothel was, but finding Correl would be a different matter. He reached the top and quickly sprinted to the ledge, getting into the prone position. He took out his stealth carbine, switching on the electronic scope and peering through it. Gorro had given him a description of the target through one of his cronies. Zolar’s scope scanned the brothel, looking through the crowd hoping to get a night’s respite from the worries of the world through a woman. The Gank sighed as he searched, he had no idea when this Correl would show up. That was the problem with on the go hits, no time to prepare. But it appeared luck was on his side, as a man fitting the description emerged from the building, flanked by what looked to be a hired gun. Zolar grinned as he wrapped his index finger around the trigger and he lined up his shot. Hopefully the fool wasn’t wearing any body armor.

PEW!

Kell had been watching the door the Pure hand member had been led into by the Twi’lek earlier, though he looked slightly different then when he had gone in. His eyes were red and his movements more exaggerated as an orange Twi’lek led him out. His hands were fumbling to put his credit chip away. “See you again next week, big boy.” The Twi’lek whore said in a sultry voice. Correl smiled lightly as he looked confusedly around for a moment for Kell. Having seen him come out he quickly chugged what was left of the water he had taken to drinking to help offset the alcohol from earlier. Kell grabbed his client by the shoulder tightly and put his helmet back on over his face quickly. Correl tried to manage out a “Hey” before Kell firmly grabbed his chest. Kell felt the plastoid plate sitting under his shirt and felt better about it.

“This… isn’t… my first pod race before… ya know.” Correl said in a half slur and rather slowly. He was clearly high on something but he had a feeling it wasn’t spice. But it seemed as if he had enough sense on him to put the body armor back on before coming out.

“Alright, we’re moving out the same way we came in. If I drag you around don’t fight me, you're clearly not in a state to run very quickly. I haven’t seen any unusual suspects here yet so we should have a clear shot out. Let’s go.” The Pure hand member just softly smiled and nodded his head to the directions. Kell lifted his left hand to the back of the man’s neck and started moving him towards the door. Before letting him pass through the threshold though he put Correl’s hood back up over his head to help partially cover his face. Kell opened the door for them and took a second to look out the front door to make sure there were no immediate threats. He quickly tagged all the gang members he could find outside the door with his HUD and paused for a moment to look back. Putting his right hand back inside his cloak and on his DC-17m he propped the door open with his shoulder and walked outside. Immediately Correl was hit.

Correl was luckily hit in the chest plate but it knocked him out and threw him backwards. Luckily Kell was able to pull him towards himself and grab underneath his arm pit for a quick grab. He used his free right hand to pull up his blaster rifle in front of him as he dragged the unconscious man quickly to his right and behind a piece of cover. Though the cover happened to be an oversized trash can it was something. He put Correl in lap and swapped his sniper attachment to his rifle quickly. Correl was safe for the moment but he needed to return fire or else he was risking a grenade taking them both out. Kell swore to himself as he peeked his head up over the top of the metal trash can to check the roofs. The only reason he felt the need to check the roofs first was due to the fact that a bunch of people were running around in the streets so there was little threat of a bolt getting through the impromptu meat shield.

Zolar swore to himself as he saw Correl and his guard scramble behind cover. Blasted little rat. He switched to thermal on his mask, but soon realized that wouldn’t do him any good. The place was crawling with people and many of the lights in the street emitted heat. He growled as he switched off his thermal. This is why you plan a hit, he scolded himself. If you had planned this, you would have brought armor piercing rounds you idiot. Zolar scanned as people scrambled out of the way and he saw the guard’s helmet, something reminiscent of the clones of the republic. He squeezed the trigger, sending another round towards the brothel, heading directly for the head of Correl’s bodyguard.

The sniper round impacted the top of his helmet and immediately dropped his shields. While he didn’t have time to actually check he guessed that it probably ricocheted and left a nasty scorch mark. He now had a massive headache but he got something invaluable out of that stunt. He knew where the sniper was now. He quickly looked to his client who was starting to cough roughly as he woke up and he prepared to move him. Kell popped up over the cover again but this time exposing more of his body as he had his rifle brought to bear. While he didn’t have time to be careful with his shots he knew roughly where the shots came from. He pulled the trigger as fast as he could in that direction which spent his ammo cartridge and then he grabbed Correl by the back of his collar and made a beeline down the street behind a speeder.

While it was a logical leap he was still hoping that the angle he was at would not be in the sniper’s line of sight. He set Correl up against the speeder and pulled his ammo cartridge out of the right side of his weapon and slapped another one in the left side. Putting the spent one in the place the new one had come from on his chest. He poked his head out now that his shields had recharged and spotted another speeder he could move to. Deciding quickly on the maneuver he grabbed Correl with his left hand again and trying to half pick him half drag him with the free arm he began sprinting across the street with his cargo, he ducked low so as to use some of the civilians as cover moved quickly towards him.

Zolar swore as he saw the guard dragging Correl behind a speeder. It was out of his line of sight. He got to a crouch and quickly moved along the rooftop, a flurry of blaster shots came towards him and he hit the ground, feeling their heat on his back as they barely missed him. Zolar crawled behind a large vent and got back up, peeking out to see the pair hurrying behind another speeder. He fired off a quick shot from his stealth carbine, which hit the speeder’s headlight and exploded in a shower of sparks. This guy was better than most. The Gank dropped to one knee and peered through his scope. The speeder provided good cover, to those who didn’t know where the tank was. Zolar scanned the speeder for the energy cap. He found it, luckily the speeder was parked to where it was facing him. He took aim and fired, the bolt slamming into the energy tank. An explosion would soon follow.

When a bolt struck the speeder’s headlight Kell took it as a retaliatory shot, not necessarily accurate but still forced him into cover. But the second shot landed in an unfortunate spot. He had barely a second to react to the speeder’s reactor exploding. He slid his gun into his chest bandolier having no time to do much else and with both hands grabbed Correl and put himself between the speeder and his client. He pumped his legs as hard as he could towards the side of the street the assassin was shooting from. Mid jump the speeder went up and propelled him further into a side alley on the same side as the shooter. Even through his armor he could feel the heat from the explosion that made his stomach turn over.

Kell choked back the vomit that the pressure wave had almost given him and pulled out his rifle again. This time he pulled off the sniper attachment and pulled out his anti-armor attachment. Though he wasn’t facing armor an explosion was an explosion. He leaned quickly out into the sidewalk from the alley while he squeezed off the grenade from his weapon at the building he had shot at previously. While he aimed high he doubted it would actually hit the roof the shooter was on but it should atleast cause the ground to come out from him. At this point he was trying to disengage, killing was going to be a hard thing unless this assassin slipped up somehow. He swapped off his grenade launcher attachment and switched it back to blaster mode while also throwing the now semi-lucid Correl over his shoulder while he booked it down the alley. He cut right into another tiny alley but this one had a load of people at shops lining either side of the alley.

He pushed and shoved his way through the crowd with the functionally unconscious man slung over his shoulder yelling at people to move.

Zolar scrambled backwards as a grenade hit the building, shaking the foundations and sending Zolar toppling to the ground. Fuck! He got to his feet and peered through his scope again, seeing the bodyguard fleeing with Correl slung over his shoulder. Zolar squeezed off another round, it went soaring towards Correl, but a bystander was hit instead. The passerby’s neck exploded and he was sent toppling to the ground. The Gank growled audibly as he kept scanning for them, but by this time they were lost to 3030. Zolar activated his comm and reported in. “Target got away, had someone competent guarding him. Tell the boss I’ll be a little later than usual.” He got to his feet and looked around once more, before making his way to the ladder he came up on.

Kell did a quick double take behind him as he rounded another corner into more crowded alley shops, all of which were incredibly brightly lit. Confident for the moment that he had lost the pursuer he put Correl back on the ground on his feet. The man barely stood on his own considering the drugs and the shot he had just taken. Kell grabbed his face and manipulated it in his hands for a moment to get a good look at his eyes. His pupils were dilated and he was blinking rapidly. “What in the galaxy did you take?” He muttered softly to himself, just barely loud enough for his helmet to pick up and transmit. Unresponsive but still able to move somewhat he negotiated his way over to a stall that was selling water in some sort of hard plastic container. Grabbing the container and moving away from the stall before the vendor noticed he had just been stolen from he poured half the water onto Correl’s face. The man suddenly became more alive but was still obviously out of it.

“Hey, you gotta wake up. We’re out, whatever you took and that concussion didn’t mix well. I need you to drink this water while I work out a way back to the speeder. Understand?” Kell said in a very commanding tone to the barely conscious man. Correl noded barely able to keep his head up by himself. He put his left arm under the man to help him stand and he figured it looked less suspicious than picking him up again. Kell quickly checked himself as his client began drinking the procured water. Most of his cloak had been burned up in the chase, it also happened part of his armor had been scorched. But there was also blood on the cloak on his right side, it was green so it definitely wasn’t his. He figured he had to work for his credits atleast once in awhile, usually though his job was prevention, not direct combat.

As they made their way back to the speeder Kell was working out the math in his head about what this little adventure was gonna cost his client. He could probably charge him an inordinate amount of money and get out of dealing with the Pures anymore but he did have to admit, a lot of people hated these guys, that means they’re willing to pay a premium for him. He just hoped that if he kept picking up contracts for these guys he wouldn’t get blacklisted with the other gangs. He would have to talk to his contact in the Sirens later and see what his status was with them. Putting that thought aside Kell finally came upon the speeder and stuffed Correl in the passenger seat while he went around to his pack. He rummaged around for his bacta spray for a moment before grasping the familiar tube of life saving substance.

Moving back around to the other side of the speeder Kell ripped open Correl’s shirt by the blaster bolt and quickly undid his body armor. The blood had adhered to the plate that saved his life so he had to take some more of the man’s skin while he went to work. It was a pretty standard burn wound for a blaster, should heal in a day or two with bacta. Though he probably had a broken rib or two aswell. While he applied the bacta to his chest right where his heart was Kell thought back to the clone wars. He realized how much easier every trooper being the same made treating wounds for the medic’s. He cracked a smile under his helmet for a brief moment. Ain’t no army like a clone army.

Kell zipped the Pure Hands Syndicate lieutenant’s armor back up and made his way back around to the speeders pilot seat. As he felt the satisfying vibration of the speeder Kell felt about his work, he had completed his duty in face of dynamic odds. That was all he could ask for.