The music thumped within the dark room, the only light in the dead center where a single pink Twi'lek danced, her graceful body moving beautifully with the beat. The rest of the room was silent as everyone within it watched the girl dance, she was clad very lightly, a velvet robe with strategic cuts on it in order to enhance her form. As the song came to an end she finished the performance with a split. Then it was over, the lights within the room went back on, the spotlight was gone, the silence as well.

Applause came for Siennviwor, not raucous, as that was considered too rowdy, but rather the polite kind that showed her that she had satisfied those that paid her to dance. She rose to her feet and bowed, then quietly walked away from the center of the room. The building she was in was a restaurant, the Glass Rose, behind her was the band, who had now moved to a softer, more subtle tune.

The Rose was much different from many of the other places to eat in 3030, it prided itself on being a classy establishment in a vulgar undercity. Located near the center of thirty thirty, the Rose had its own private security, though none displayed weapons within the establishment, it was too crude for such a refined place. The patrons were sharp dressed, many of them being the wealthy of 3030. Sienn had been provided one of the finest dresses she had ever seen.

She approached the bar as a calm chatter filled the restaurant. People looked at her as she walked, most of them men, though they were too stuck up in the Rose's standard of class to make a move on her. That was a bonus in dancing in the place, it was shady, stuck out a bit too much from the rest of the underworld, but that was what it prided itself on. The Twi'lek wondered if anyone in the restaurant were gang members, some of them had to be, some of the wealthiest in 3030 were prominent gangsters, they just didn't speak of the gangs in here.

"Can I buy you a drink, miss? That performance was breathtaking." Someone said to her as she took a seat at the bar, she turned her head towards the source. It was a Nautolan, a male she guessed, his clothing fancy like all the others in the room. He leaned against the bar next to her, a cocky smile on his amphibious face.

"Sure, if you're buying." Sienn said with a fake smile. Free drinks were a common thing for her and many of her people, she didn't turn them down unless she sensed impure intentions behind the purchase. As the bartender, an Ithorian went to work on fixing the drink, the Nautolan spoke again.

"Name's Kes, I'm a swoop racer, one of the best in the business. Won the last invitation at Corellia. Missed setting the record for it by a second." He said with a laugh.

Sienn had never seen a swoop race, nor cared for it. The fake laugh didn't really work on here, she just wanted a quick drink, her payment, then would be out of this stuffy restaurant.

"I'm Sienn, you're a swoop racer? I heard that's really dangerous, people die all the time in it." The Twi'lek replied as the bartender placed her drink in front of her. It was blue, as she took a sip she noticed it was sweet. Probably something expensive that she had just gotten for free.

"Oh yeah, that's half the fun though. The danger."

"What are you doing in the undercity?" Sienn asked as she took another drink from the glass. It was probably the classiest thing she'd have all week. Then she noticed a waitress approaching her from her other side, dressed in a fancy black outfit, the woman spoke to Sienn before Kes could.

"Excuse me, very sorry to interrupt, but management wanted me to inform you that your payment has been sent to you. They were very pleased with the show you put on." The woman said, then excused herself again as she left the two aliens alone.

"I got some friends here, they paid for me to come here, said they might involve me in some swoop race within level 3030." The Nautolan said as Sienn finished the rest of her drink. The racer's friends were probably criminals, she was certain he knew that, if he didn't then she almost felt bad for him.

"Oh I see, well thanks for the drink, I gotta be heading home though." Sienn said with a smile to Kes.

"Why don't you give me your communicator code, I'd like to see you later." He said, she wasn't interested. But he probably had groupies if he was half the celebrity he said he was.

"Sorry, I have someone waiting for me. Good luck with the racing though." She didn't have anyone waiting, she just wanted to leave. Kes said nothing else, but she could see the look of disappointment on his face as he ordered a drink for himself as Sienn went into a room provided for her and changed into casual clothing. After checking her credit balance, and seeing the promised payment, she left the Rose, zipping up her leather jacket. She almost smiled at the line of people patently waiting to be allowed into the fancy place.

---

Sienn's hand was pulled as her friend lead her into the Pit. The Gamorrean guard by the front entrance allowed both the women in, the humanoid's arms crossed as he did so. It didn't surprise her that such an imposing species was the doorman, as she stepped into the former warehouse she noticed two Trandoshan bouncers on each side of the bar. Fights outside of the cage were common place, and almost allowed by the staff. The bouncers were there if the fights went involved weaponry.

Tala had gone to fetch drinks, she was the human girl that dragged the dancer into the bar. At least the Twi'lek wasn't dancing in such a rowdy place, she was just a patron. She felt like she stuck out like a sore thumb amongst those in the bar, many were tough looking, tattooed and pierced, even some of the women. Loud, thumping music blared through the establishment, glimmik, the Pit was almost a total opposite of the Glass Rose, this was punctured by the fight currently going on in the cage in the center.

As Sienn's friend returned, she handed her a beverage. Both of the women watched the fight, in the cage two shirtless men stood, a human and a Zabrak, both locked in battle. The Zabrak tackled the human down and threw several punches, two impacted into the man's face, causing blood to pour from his nose. As the third came he rolled over and tossed the Zabrak off of him. As he did so, many within the crowd cheered, others banged on the sides of the cage.

"Oh I just love Lon, he's so hot, just look at how he moves in that cage." Tala said, then cheered as Lon, the human threw a punch which connected with the zabrak's face. Sienn wasn't that interested in the fighting, she never understood the appeal of such a thing in the entertainment sense. Lon was handsome and undefeated in the ring, his groupies were there in full force.

He just narrowly avoided a kick from the zabrak, then countered with a tackle as he pushed his opponent into the side of the metal cage. They hit it with a bang as Lon banged the Zabrak's head into the side, then again as he knocked out his now fallen foe to secure victory. A clothed Gran entered from a door on the side of the cage, with the help of another he began to pull the unconscious zabrak out. Lon rose both hands in victory as he circled the interior of the cage, cheers, claps and screams filling him with pride as his bare chest was stained in his own blood.

"He won, I told you he would! He's so good." Tala said, cheering too, almost spilling her drink as Sienn shook her head and took another sip.

"...Thing is, though, you can't really compare the two. I like Swoop Biking 'cause I like two things: Speed and Cities. Podracing doesn't really do either of those. Pods are for tricky manuevers and expert navigation; you need ace reflexes there, too, but it's a lot more technical. You kinda have to know the course if you wanna survive. And they're much better suited to cross-country, anyway. You can use a Swoop cross-country, too, but it just ain't the same flying across fields. I guess it's just something that a true Swoop Biker would understand like it was in their heart, if you'll forgive the pukeworthy phrasing. It's that element of randomness, of spontaneity, riding by the seat of your pants, feeling like you're at the mercy of fate itself in the midst of the urban sprawl, a place where fate has all but died... it makes you feel like you're on top of the entire galaxy. It's hard to explain to someone who's not a fan. I guess Podracing tends to make more sense to the casual observer; 'hooray, you survived!' That's not bad, but it doesn't appeal to me. With Podracing, it feels like it's a means to an end. I don't think any of the people at the Boonta Eve Classic were enjoying the thrill of what they were doing, except maybe Ody Mandrell. Gasgano went on and on about how he could use his superior technical skill to win. Sebulba just used to demolish the competition for the sake of winning. But I never get that from a Swoop Race. It ain't universal, of course, but there it seems like the ride itself is its own reward. The only losers are the people who play it safe."

Dyno stopped to catch his breath a little after uttering that monster of a spontaneous lecture on why he preferred Swoop Biking to Podracing. It was the third call he'd gotten since Noon, but none of them had quite caught his attention like this one. It was a welcome relief, since the one before seemed like some kind of inept prank by a barely-pubescent human boy. He was told to report to his mother.

"...Huh." The man who had asked the Swoop Vs Pod question responded after a noticeable pause, clearly attempting to process what Dyno had said. "...Yeah, that sounded way more complicated than I thought, heheh. Most o' that just slammed against my 'ead."

"Well, y'know, you said you were a die-hard Podracing fan, and that's fine. I can already tell you're itching to lecture me on how wrong I am, but, well... I think we'll just have to agree to disagree. It's something this neighbourhood could do more of, if you ask me." Dyno said earnestly, making sure to straighten up in his seat. It was another one of his 'serious' statements, which tended to necessitate that.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." The man on the other side conceded. "See ya, Dyno. My brother loves this show, and he says to keep them boom-beats comin' at us!"

Dyno soon re-entered his enthusiasm zone. "Oh, don't you worry, I will! Thanks for calling in. Oh, how I do love to engage in what I believe are called 'circlejerks' with fellow SPEED enthusiasts, haha! I'll be taking a break in a moment for some much-needed nourishment, but the call-taking is far from over. Keep 'em coming until 2, people!"

Dyno glanced down at his receiving board, noticing another incoming call. As soon as he saw that indicator on the terminal, he'd pre-emptively placed his now-sufficiently-clipped claw under the receiving switch before he even knew it.

"And would you look at that, I have another one already. Radio 'Lectric 30, you're on the air! What's your story?"

"Oh, already? Th-that was quick." A slightly nervous-sounding young woman responded over the line, after another pause. Took her by surprise, it seems. "Uh... hi. I'd rather not say who I am, this is kinda... fragile."

"I understand." Dyno sat up again. Already sounded like it was going to be serious. He got so many of these, he often wondered if he should have studied Psychiatry while he was on Alderaan that one time.

"Alright. See... I'm in trouble. Well... okay, that's a lie. My brother's in trouble. He's been going to this place called 'The Pit'; have you heard of it?"

'The Pit' immediately conjured up some troublesome images in the Tiss'Shar's mind. Images of bloodshed and exploitation. Nothing good ever came out of that hellhole, that much he knew.

"I have. Never really saw the appeal in injuring yourself in front of a crowd, really. What kind of people would find that amusing enough to warrant a whole establishment, anyway? Oh wait." He said sarcastically, attempting to inject some degree of humour into the situation. A futile effort, probably, but if nothing else it might tide over those listeners who objected to his feelgood speeches.

"Yeah, I know what you're gettin' at." The woman said, followed by some weak laughter that barely held back tears. "See... he's been real frustrated lately. At everything. I'm really worried that the gangs are gonna try and recruit him. I think I've seen him hanging out with the Pure Hands... it's weird, he doesn't even hate aliens."

Dyno's claws found themselves gripping the edge of his seat, leaving yet more scratches. He even subconsciously bared his teeth upon the mention of that group. But he soon gathered his thoughts properly; a process that mercifully took shorter with each passing year. Hopefully nothing would happen to reset the counter to zero.

"How old is he, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Well... he's only 15."

Dyno was about to raise his voice, say something along the lines of 'those dirty bastards' or maybe even utter one of Teema's favourite slurs, but he knew that wouldn't help her situation. She'd probably gotten her fill of that already. What she needed was calm reassurance. Sadly he didn't know the professional technique, but as far as 3030 was concerned, he figured he was top therapist, or something. Hence all the therapy calls.

"Ooh... well, that'd sadly make sense. He still hasn't gotten past the impressionable stage yet. Honestly, I don't really know what to say. I'm not an expert with kids. I'd just sit him down, have a long chat with him about this. You need to let him know that the attitude of these Pure Hand fierfeks is not the cure to his frustration... it's a poison, to all people. Ask him, does he really want to become part of the problem? Unload his frustrations on other people, enable the vicious cycle of fierfekkery to continue? And let me put it like this... when I was a kid, I never knew my parents. I never even met another one o' my kind. I was raised by a karkin' one-percenter Swoop Club. Yet I wasn't lost. I found an honest meaning, a way in which I could give something to the galaxy without having to leech that something off someone else before. If there was hope for me, there's certainly hope for your brother. It's not much, but... I hope it helps."

"Heh... thanks, Dyno. At least you tried."

"Always happy to be of service. Good luck."
---------------
Later...
---------------

Once Dyno had finished that conversation, he decided that he needed some time to think over his nourishment; thus, he left a couple of songs on before he'd continue taking calls, all of it adding up to about ten-to-fifteen minutes of breaktime.

The path to his apartment definitely took a rather circuitous path through the building. It went down some stairs and into what seemed to be a maintenance hallway full of steam valves and cabling. As was to be expected, it became blisteringly hot once he entered, prompting him to fidget in his fur-lined vest (perhaps a knee-jerk reaction, since he was cold-blooded and all) and move a bit faster to the door on the other side. This lead him to the public bathroom access corridor. Finally, he got past those and entered Teema's Diner.

It was still the tail-end of lunchtime by the time he had entered, and as such, the classically-arranged eatery was still relatively busy. Teema's reputation definitely preceded her, as evidenced by the higher-than-average population of Aliens buying from her. The number of humans at the Diner could be counted on one hand, all of whom were likely new to the area or simply came in every day purely to spite her.

Dyno was not especially concerned; this was a daily occurrence. All he did was wander over to the nearest space on the front counter and leaned up against, resting an arm on the side and smirking, announcing his presence to the establishment's owner in a way that never failed to annoy her.

However, at the time, the owner of the establishment was occupied on the other side of the counter, talking quite loudly to one of the few human customers, a grubby overweight mechanic from the looks of things.

"Look, peaches, d'you want the bloody Binka Fruit Biscuit or what? 'Cause they add money to the price. That tends to 'appen when you add things to yer order. Or did you think I was jus' withholdin' them outta spite?" She said; though dwarfed by the man (even after she stood on top of a wheeled stool to make herself actually visible to the customers), she was clearly the one in control here.

"Alright, alright, I get it!" The man surrendered, leaning back somewhat dangerously in his stool. Meanwhile, Teema glanced to her side and noticed Dyno's presence. Thus, turned towards him and propelled her wheeled stool over to him by pushing herself along the side bar.

"I'm sure y'do. Bloody 'umans..." She could be heard muttering to herself as she approached her upstairs neighbour. She soon made her appearance apparent. Unusually for a Mrlssti of her age, she had chosen to conceal her luscious blue Peacock-like head-feathers undearneath her trademark checkered-flag bandana; though it was probably from the heat of the kitchen behind her, in which her other employees were busy slaving away. She was also wearing a black leather jacket with a diagonal orange-and-yellow stripe down the middle, which elicited an eyebrow-raising from Dyno. He'd never seen her wearing that before.

"...Eeeeh, it's my favourite DJ-who-works-above-my-place!" She said faux-excitedly, obviously aiming to begin their usual 'annoyance wars'. "Will you be wantin' a Bantha Kabob, or are you gonna be adventurous and go for a Bantha Kabob with Light Seasoning? Frankly, I doubt it."

"Actually, I'll take the non-adventurous option today. With some Ardees." Dyno said, exaggeratedly glancing at his claws and rubbing them together in the smuggest manner possible.

"Ah, nice. I was worried you'd force us both out of our cozy little comfort zones. You smug lil' bastard." She joked in a non-joking voice, before turning away to go about her duties. It was then that Dyno dropped his irritating act when he managed to catch the back of Teema's new jacket. It had the logo of a stylised, electrified Dinko's face on the back, with the words 'ELECTRIC DINKOS S.C. [1%] 3030 CHAPTER' written above and below it. It was eye-wideningly familiar.

"Hey, wait... where'd you get that jacket?" He asked, calling out to her.

Teema swivelled back around, her own eye-widening suggesting that she'd forgotten something. "Ah yeah, I forgot to tell ya; one of your 'Lectric Dinko mates came over 'ere earlier, said 'e 'ad somethin' to ask o' yer. But then we got a lil' sidetracked an'... well, for a Swoop Biker, 'e 'ad charm. Said 'e'd take me out ta dinner, at the Rose, p'rapps. 'Sides, the Yarkora are real bloody secretive, so if I learn nothin' else, it'd be nice to learn what they got goin' on down in the undercarriage."

"What? Are you suggesting I don't have any charm?" Dyno asked with restrained chuckles, making sure to focus on the wrong part of her questionable statement.

"Yeah, dat's exactly what I'm suggestin'. All the charm of a diseased Rancor turd." Teema responded, in her usual 'be careful what you ask for' manner.

"Uhhh... excuse me, miss?" The mechanic from earlier attempted to literally stick his head over into their business in an attempt to remind Teema of her duties. Which looked mighty uncomfortable considering he was still a whole counter away from them.

"Oi, be bloody patient! Things may be different up in glorious Palpatine-topia, but 'ere y'aint gonna get any special privileges just 'cause yer a peach-monkey!" Teema yelled back at him, eliciting a mighty flinch which almost made the poor man fall onto his backside.

"Never mind that, what was this message?" Dyno asked, leaning forward over the counter.

"Oh, right. Yeah, he was basically sayin' that Gorro's been less forgivin' of people who're late on their protection money, so 'e's been sendin' some bloody whackjob of a 'enchman to take care o' things. Some Ganky-Gank called Zolo, or somethin' 'tough guy'-soundin'."

"Aren't you worried about that?" Dyno scratched the top of his head, only slightly worried about his own predicament thanks to Teema's description of this Zolo person. Though he realised that he probably should be more worried; Gorro was not one to be trifled with, after all, and he'd been operating under the assumption that he'd want his pay in a few weeks. Not now.

"Nah, I got my protection money all set. It's you 'e was worried about. But 'e said they'd be willin' to pay it off for ya if you DJ'd at their next 'recruitment drive' at The Pit bar."

Dyno sighed to himself and looked at the greasy tiled floor below. Fancy that. He had just mentioned the Pit on the radio, it reminded him of how it was a terrible place filled with misery, and now circumstances had conspired to throw him there. Then again, he thought to himself, he'd much rather that young aliens be motivated to join what was essentially a hobby club with minor criminal elements and a strict code of conduct, and not these massive all-devouring monsters that preyed on normal people.

"Gah... just my luck. But if it'll get people away from the Gangs, then, well..."

"Hey, birdfeed! Are you gonna serve me or what?" The mechanic yelled over again, his patience having evidently been worn thin by Teema's priorities.

"The bloody 'ell you just call me, Reek's-left-bollock-for-a-face?!" Teema bellowed back at him, at such volume so as to make her voice grate in a birdlike fashion.

"Ah, kark this." The mechanic shouted to the air at no-one in particular, throwing his arms up there with the words. He slid off of his stool with an audible thud and headed to the door. "If this is how you treat all your human customers, I'm taking my business elsewhere. Birdfeed."

"Good bloody riddance!" Teema forcefully said to herself, loudly but not loud enough to be heard over the chatting of the other diner-goers, unlike the earlier bellow. She turned back to Dyno. "'Umans, 'ey? So bloody used to bein' on top o' the world, they can't handle a measly five Glit-bitin'-minute wait! Anyway, I gotcha greasy radio-breakin' snack set comin' up. Good job y'ain't a DJ or else y'might break a radio with 'em."

Mar turned around at that, he ignored the tug of Tanyas arm. Gurak had to be playing some kind of game, that's all it was. To get some kind of rematch going or some good old NL matches. While most fights in the Pit were done with fists or other extremities there was the odd occasion when weapons of the non-lethal variety would be allowed. That's what he had made a name for himself in and apparently since then there had been few fights of that variety. After all a lot of the participants were trying to use their skills to amass legions of fans, largely for sexual interests, or make their way into a gang and didn't want anything that could put them out of the ring for a while. He was sure however there would still be grudge matches that went on in that ring, not that he cared. He was out of that scene now and Guraks little trick wasn't going to get him back into it.

"I'm sure you don't Gurak." Mar began to turn away again, ignoring Tanyas protests as she was obviously buying whatever Gurak was selling. He wasn't buying it though, there had to be a hidden agenda somewhere.

Before he could get out however Tanya spoke out. "What've you got?" Mar sighed, lowering his head. It would be really good if one day of her life she'd listen to what he wasn't saying. Though he supposed she was going to be as stubborn as possible with being an ex-Jedi and a Mandalorian those two life sets pretty much made her as stubborn as she was.

"I know you're a-aa-fter one of the glowing blades. Folks around here are ca-aa-ling him the Sorceror, say he can do things with just his mind. Word he even works for the Hutt! If he's real, and with the fa-aa-ct you're after him makes me think he is." Tanya looked at Mar with those pleading eyes and he resigned himself to what was going to happen. Gurak was going to ask Mar to fight, and Tanya was going to get Mar to fight for whatever sliver of information Gurak thought he had, though that didn't mean Mar was going to just go and play along. No, he had another idea.

"Okay, so I presume you'll want me to fight for information?" Gurak nodded. "Okay, on one condition."

"Na-aa-me it."

"I want to fight you, first, and Tanya gets to work at the bar." Gurak looked between the two of them. Then nodded.

"I find the terms, a-aa-cceptable."

---

Mar was standing at the edge of the ring, armour off. He had the shirt and shoes off, the shirt off was more for trying to keep some of the female viewers interested and the shoes was to stop someone wearing extra heavy boots when in the arena. He still hated the feeling of the blasted sand in the arena. He hated sand full stop but usually he didn't need to walk in it with his bare feet. Usually he had his armour on and didn't even need to think about it. Now he would be fighting in it, and if his last fight with Gurak was any indication it was going to be a dirty fight. He already knew the weapon Gurak would have chosen, electrostaff. There wasn't that many choices to chose from regarding non-lethal weapons anyway, but that was always his favourite in the arena back in the old days.

He himself stuck with his whip, it had a sting, good reach and was a weapon he was used too. He wasn't going to go with an unfamiliar weapon when he could easily work with something recognisable and he had used for years, the hilt of the weapon itself over the years had been modified to fit his hand perfectly. He heard the booming voice of some being out of sight come throughout the location.

"Laaadies and Gentlemen! Gentlebeings of all ages, if you will direct your attention to the main ring we have a special event for you this evening! Introducing the owner of our fine establishing Guuuraaak!" There was a cheet as Gurak entered the ring, with the door closed Mar couldn't see the Gotal enter the ring. Though he could faintly hear him shouting something. Then the voice came on again. "AND! After teeeeeen yeeears! Making his proud return, the proud Mandaloriannnnnnn! Maaaaar DEEEEEEN!!!"

He ignored the applause as the door infront of him opened, the lights momentarily blinding him as he walked into the arena. Though when his eyes finally focused they didn't lie on Gurak, but what he held in his hand. He had a vibrosword, apparently non-lethal matches were a thing of the past.

"Ne shab'rud'ni hut'tuun"

Gurak smiled. "Things have cha-aa-nged old friend. You can't back out now."

Krenn was making good progress heading into town, scanning the buildings for a sign with ‘Zam’s Cantina’ on it. He was just finishing his cigar when he heard blasterfire a few streets ahead, hoping it wasn’t coming from his would be destination. So far he hadn’t seen any decent places, cantina-wise that was. Thus Krenn decided to ask his way once more. He spotted a friendly looking Bothan and approached him with a casual wave.

“Sorry to disturb your walk, but I am looking for a place called Zam’s Cantina, supposed to be this way.”

For good measure he made a broad gesture ahead. But the Bothan only chuckled.

“You got to be meaning Zam’s brothel, its-“

The Bothan had just started gesturing when an explosion sounded and smoke started rising from the directions he was giving.

“That way…”

Beings came running from the streets leading to the explosion site and Krenn gave a weary look at the Bothan, who appraised the situation some more with a casualness that suggested this sort of things happened more often around these parts. Krenn kept looking for threats heading their way but asked with feigned detachment:

“Any other places you’d recommend for a meal? Preferably more quiet than this.”

Krenn raised his chin in the general direction of the explosion. The Bothan nodded, gesturing to his left, keeping his eyes fixed on the streets leading to the explosion.

“Teema’s good, nice woman, eloquent. Good food as well. Don’t bother with much along the way, mostly fried vermin selling for Bantha Kabob. She got the real deal.”

The Bothan followed it up with a genuine grin that Krenn thought he could trust, Bantha kabob didn’t sound half bad. Krenn wished the Bothan a good day and put his lower hands in his trousers pockets, since his coat didn’t have holes for them, and put his upper hands into the pockets of his long brown coat. Rummaging through the leftover wrapping foils, boxes of matches and sparse credits he made his way to the diner.

Entering the establishment Krenn took in the smells and parts of conversation. One in particular drew his interest, though he didn’t know why.

"Gah... just my luck. But if it'll get people away from the Gangs, then, well..."

Eying the Tiss’shar to who the voice belonged did him little good in the way of reckognition, but it did grant him a sight of what was unmistakably the owner of the establishment. Krenn made a few steps to address the owner for a seat and a meal, aiming for the seat next to the Tiss’shar when some human called out:

"Hey, birdfeed! Are you gonna serve me or what?"

Krenn already had his hand raised in greetings and as an indication he wanted to order but lowered it in favour of a raised brow as the small birdlike creature exploded with eloquence:

"The bloody 'ell you just call me, Reek's-left-bollock-for-a-face?!"

A grin appeared on Krenns face for it, making for his prospected seat and deciding to wait with his order till the owner had time for him. The banter continued in the background while Krenn took his seat next to the Tiss’shar, giving him a smile and nod.

“She always this feisty?”

Tir-Nem-Saral stepped into the diner, carrying a dark green bag under her arm in addition to her usual equipment. It was reasonably crowded at the moment, and it was not a place she frequented, but it was where her client, who had placed the bounty she was about to collect, had told her to come. She had a description of who she was supposed to look for, but even if she hadn’t, it would not have been hard to pick out the three, obviously-armed thugs who started staring her down the moment she stepped through the door.

Wordlessly, Tir walked over and sat down at their booth, across from a Human and Devaronian, and beside a Weequay. She placed the bag down on the table in front of her and waited for one of the three to speak up so she could figure out who was in charge.

“So, you’re the bounty hunter, yes?” The Devaronian said, leaning forward onto the table with his hands clasped together.

“Right, we should probably get this over with quickly.” Tir responded. She generally was not quite so impatient with clients, but for this job in particular, she felt she wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.

“Hmph, whatever. Just let me see your datapad, and you’ll get your credits.” He continued. Tir’s datapad had an application that could be used to test collected samples of blood, not only for DNA, but for markers that were present in many species when the body entered a state consistent with death, or at the very least, potentially fatal trauma. However, there had been a slight complication with her ability to use that application for this specific bounty.

Tir rubbed the back of her neck. ”Yeah…about that. My datapad’s busted. So…” She began, not bothering to finish her sentence before she partially opened the bag on the table, just enough for the Devaronian to look inside, to reveal a severed Human head.

---Two hours earlier---

Tir’s target was running for his life. Altogether, her ambush had worked quite well. She had been following him, and knew that he would return to his speeder soon enough. He had been seen at this apartment before, and she had seen him there the previous day, but it was not where he lived. She had needed only to find a spot to wait, then, when he returned, she had managed to get off a stun shot on his bodyguard. The shot had been meant for him, but the bodyguard had at least managed to perform his duty in the most literal sense.

The target was a Human male, and a member of the Pure Hand. He had ran into the closest alley and was attempting to weave his way between the many, tightly packed buildings to escape his purser. The bright blue stun shots from Tir’s blaster flew by him as he dashed and evaded to the best of his ability. Each shot briefly illuminated the darkened alleys, but he was spry enough on his feet that, while a few came close, none actually found their mark. Tir was not the most accurate while running at a full sprint, so after the Human turned another corner, she quickly holstered the blaster and drew her vibroblade from the back of her bandolier. The Human was reasonably agile, but as a Tiss’shar, she had the advantage in strength and speed over him, and she was indeed gaining on him.

Tir rounded the corner only a few meters behind her quarry. She grasped her blade firmly in both hands, holding it level as she charged after him. She could see that he was armed, but by the look of its glow, it seemed to be a stun baton. Useful for pacification and torture, but not terribly useful against an experienced opponent with a sword. The Human hit the baton against a bin overflowing with compacted refuse to knock it down behind him, which Tir promptly and easily jumped over. He rounded another corner to the right, but she was only seconds behind him.

This time, when Tir ran around the corner, she found her target attempting an impromptu ambush. He charged at her, swinging his baton straight for her head, but the Tiss’shar’s reaction was like lightning. She was able to bring up her blade to block the strike; although, the momentum with which he was running allowed him to force his assailant back and slam her against the wall behind her. However, once that momentum was lost, her strength allowed her to quickly push back against him. Realizing his disadvantage, he tried to start backing off, but she was able to land a clean kick straight to the middle of his stomach. The claws on her feet tore through his thin clothing and left three short, but deep gashes across his middle. He stumbled back, just barely able to keep his balance, while Tir moved to capitalize on her advantage. She thrust her blade towards his chest, intentionally off the mark for his heart. To his credit, he was able to parry her blade off to his right, but because his weapon had much less reach, he had to take a step forward in his attempt to retaliate. It was a movement that took more than enough time to allow Tir to bring her blade around and swing for his weapon to deflect the strike.

Since the stun baton lacked a guard, Tir’s blade slid downward on impact and cut clean through a few of his fingers. Screaming out in pain, he of course ended up dropping the baton. Tir expected this would have been enough to motivate a surrender, but either through training, or simple rage towards his attacker, he was surprisingly resolute in his willingness to fight back. With his unwounded hand, he pulled a knife from his belt and started to rush forward. Once again, however, Tir’s advantage in reach allowed her to stop the attack before he could get close. She slashed upwards and diagonally across his chest, against which he was powerless to defend. Overwhelmed by the shock of yet another wound, he dropped down to one knee and lost his grip on his knife, though the short blade did not fall far and was still well-within his reach.

Tir stood with her blade held above the Human’s head in the prime position to swing for a killing blow. She looked down upon him with an intense glare, scrutinizing his every movement. His own expression was one of fear, pain, and rage. Despite his profusely bleeding injuries, which were weakening him ever further by the second, his gaze darted between Tir, and the knife on the ground in front of him.

”Look, don’t even try it. That’s not going to work. I don’t want to kill you. Surrender, and I’ll patch you up and bring you in alive. But you reach for that knife, and this blade is going straight down onto your neck.” Tir warned. ”Now, make your choice.”

The Human looked back and forth once more between the knife and his attacker. There was a brief delay as he looked straight ahead, then, after a few moments, took in a deep breath.

---Present---

Tir moved to a different table to herself near the opposite side of the diner, then opened up the pouch she had been given to double-check her count of her credits. Fortunately, the Devaronian had possessed the presence of mind not to make a scene with the head, and had instead closed up the bag and passed it off to one of his men before they made their way uneventfully out of the diner. Tir wished she could have brought the target in alive, but the payment for confirming his death was still sufficient for it to have been worth her time.

Putting away the credits, Tir reached back and pulled out her datapad from one of the pouches on the back of her tool belt. She held it out on the table in front of her and traced a claw across one of the many cracks covering its screen. ”Hmm, hopefully it’s just the screen that’s cracked.” She muttered to herself. It would be cheaper just to buy that part from a junk dealer than to get a new one, and she was not keen on losing the locally saved data.

Tir just happened to glance up from her datapad to notice something, or rather someone, who quickly piqued her interest. He was a Tiss’shar as well, and while this was not the absolute first time she had seen another member of her own species, it was a definite rarity to see any of her own kind. For as long as she had been living in level 3030, she had never seen another in person. Tir’s booth was only a short distance away as she looked straight at him. ”Well, would you look at that.” She said to herself.

Del had to admit, when he asked for a meeting he didn’t expect it to be at the Pit. Though it was possible she was doing Siren business there he highly doubted it was that. Not going in with much of an idea as to why she wanted to meet in this dive Del decided to suck it up. Del was wearing a brownish-grey engineer jumpsuit that he had found out recently passed for clothing in parts of 3030. While he wasn’t heavily armed or armor he did have a blastoid plate under his jumpsuit and his plaster pistols on either side of the inside of his zipper. As he began to approach the entrance to The Pit he began to feel the rhythmic thumping of the bass from outside. Sometimes he felt like he was going to lose his hearing from meeting with people than from explosions.

As he passed into The Pit the music suddenly became louder and more clear. So did the cheering for the blood sport inside the cage. From what the fights inside the crowd looked like the match was about to begin. Though he came just after the announcement it seemed like two veterans were about to go at it. Del found the whole “volunteering to fight” thing a little pointless. Though he figured if they were gonna kick the teeth out of each other they may aswell do it for money.

Del scanned the room for the bar quickly and found it was in the same place it was the last time he had come here well over a year ago. Descending into the mosh pit surrounding the main cage Del simply slithered through the crowd without much incident, well atleast until he was about to come up to the bar. A Besalisk about his size drunkenly stumbled into the bar and into him, unfortunately without a word being spoken the heavy set Besalisk took a swing at him with his two right arms. The punches were with a lot of force but the alien was so drunk he probably couldn’t see straight so Del had to put little effort into evading the strike. He even went a step further and grabbed the Besalisk’s forearm and pulled it towards where he had been. He put his leg out in front of the already stumbling blob which sent the alien into a free fall for a moment. With his free right arm Del delivered a punch to the back of the Besalisk’s head. The mass then twitched for a moment like he had just lost control of his body then promptly closed his eyes and stopped moving entirely.

Confident that the guards would take care of the drunken mess he had just exacerbated Del made his way up to the bar. Del squeezed in between two Neimoidians at the bar who were sitting on stools and ordered a Bantha Blaster, a bad habit he had picked up from the Scarred hutt palace, the one time he’d been there. The bartender acknowledged him and walked away to make his drink. Del reached into his outer breast pocket and retrieved a comm device. He simply pressed a ping button that was located on the side of it and hoped

Sienn had finished her drink, the cage had emptied out as Lon disappeared through a doorway, his groupies trying to follow him in being denied by security. The loser of the fight had also been removed. The mob around the cage had begun to disperse as the Twi’lek heard her communicator device beep. She turned towards her friend for a moment.

“I’ve gotta to meet someone here, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Oh you got a date, he cute?” Tala said with a smile as Sienn shook her head then walked away from her, she squeezed through the crowd around the bar until she found the source of the signal. A man clad in a jumpsuit, she expected armor but maybe he was undercover or something. Armor tended to draw attention in a place like this. She smirked as a Besalisk was dragged through the front doorway by two bouncers, then leaned in next to Del.

“You must be the one was looking for me. I’m Sienn, why don’t we talk somewhere more quiet,” She said, gesturing for an empty booth on one side of the room. “So do you like this kind of place?”

Del grabbed his drink and his credit chip back from the bar tender with one hand through the Two Neimoidians once again and brought the drink quickly to his face. The pink-green mixture was just as sweet and hard as he remembered it. But he then suddenly found himself with a Twi’lek girl leaning into him, pretty enough to be a stripper at a high end place. When she spoke to him it then confirmed his suspicion, she was the Siren contact.

Del followed the Twi’lek like a dog on a leash, he found it put potential clients at ease. “Name’s Kell, I’m not a frequenter of this place. Worse places to be though.” Del said in his usual neutral raspy accent. He then brought his drink up to his face and took another sip of the fizzy mixture.

“That’s true I suppose, it’s not my kind really, full of rowdy drunks. But it’s convenient for meetings. Security is top notch, you’re expected to hide away any blasters, and there’s so much noise that it’s near impossible to eavesdrop.” She said with a smile as they approached an empty booth. Even over a ways from the bar there was still a thick cloud of noise, less than right in the bar though.

“It’s rare a man wishes to work with us, but we don’t discriminate in that area.” Sienn said as she slipped into the booth, gesturing for Del to sit near her where they would actually be able to hear each other.

”Well this may or may not end up being work. Chiefly I need to know where I stand with your employers, they may or may not know I’ve been doing some contract work for their competitors. Nothing I’ve taken should be a conflict of interest up until now. I need to be sure that just that information isn’t blocking future work.” Del took another longer sip of his drink this time. He realized that he needed to atleast look like he was having a good time with the Twi’lek, lest someone be watching them. Del struggled out a half smirk half smile and leaned forward towards the Twi’lek signalling with his body language to anyone else that might be looking on that he was trying to court her.

“If we are good there we can move forward, that being said I’ve heard your employer needs some work done that I might be interested in.” Del said with the same even tone as before, but also managing to keep his facade of looking like he was having a good up.

“They know you work with the others, that’s not an issue, you’re not pledged to our cause, a little too masculine for that,” Sienn said, as she saw someone glance at her, she rubbed her hand on Del’s arm, masquerading that they were flirting. “As long as that work doesn’t involve acting against us or our cause, then it’s fine. However, we’ve noticed you’ve been working for the Pures. They’re everyone’s enemy down here, we’re all for other aliens in thirty thirty. You keep doing dirty work for them, we don’t know how much we can let you do work for us.” Sienn said with a fake smile of flirtation.

“We do need some work done, a freelancer is perfect for it, we just tell you what you need to do, you get it done you get all the promised credits. You die, there’s nothing that connects you to us.” She added, as she looked him right in the eyes.

Del stretched out his fake half smile into a more full one that would have almost looked like he was baring his teeth like he had just heard magic words. “I’m very careful in the work I take from them, nothing ideological, nothing against the Sirens, I like keeping my options open believe me.” Del tilted his shoulders towards the Twi’lek, with his left hand he picked up his drink making sure to not drop eye contact with her for even a moment. He finished the remainder of the glass, setting it down on the table they were at. Leaning in real close to the Twi’lek’s face keeping up the same fake smile. “Oh I have a vested interest in protecting client anonymity, it’s why I get paid and not shot.”

Backing off a bit but moving his left hand to lightly touch the Twi’lek’s own forearm. “So, what do you have for me.” Del really needed to figure it out before people figured out how fake this carade was.

“The Stars, they’ve been kidnapping girls from an area to the south, near the border to their territory. Probably turning them into sex slaves. Figure out who's running the disgusting operation and kill them, any other Star’s casualties are fine. Payment only for the boss of it. Believe he is a human male named Jaird. Two black stars above his right eye.” Sienn said, as her words came to an end she leaned close to his ear and whispered them right into it.

“You know how well we pay.” She added with another smile.

”Already blacklisted from the Suns, I’ll accept. I’ll let you know about secondaries eliminated. How do you guys take confirmations? If you want the head it might cost a bit more, if he’s a sector commander anyways. Also, will you pay if I figure out where the girls are?” Del said still staring down the Twi’lek in the close proximity they were now sitting in. If this went much further he wasn’t sure how long it would be before she was sitting in his lap. Operational security was more important than his personal space however, as much as it annoyed him.

“Great to hear. Send an image of him dead to us, the two stars above the eye is the key there. We might include a bonus if you can pinpoint where the girls have been taken,” Sienn said. “Anymore questions?”

”It’s done then. I’ll contact you when my ends taken care of.“ Del dropped the smile into a smirk for a moment pursued his lips as if he were going to kiss the Twi’lek but backed out right before he was touching lips and gave a playful smile as he evacuated from the booth, grabbing his empty glass in the same motion. After he turned away from the Twi’lek and began making his way back to the bar he waited until he hit the main bulk of the crowd before he dropped the act. His face fell back into it’s usual scowl as he became one with the mass of the mosh pit again.

The next match had looked like it was setting up when the announcer began announcing who was in the fight. His eyes widened and he looked at the main cage when he heard “...Mandaloriannnnnnn! Maaaaar DEEEEEEN!!!" That was the third Mandolorian in one day. If for nothing else other than job security he needed to find out why in the galaxy there were so many Mandolorians down here all the sudden. It looked like he was staying for the fight.

A few minutes had passed since Teema had gone off to continue managing her establishment, enabling a mass of smoke and steam to enter the main room when she opened the door to her kitchen.

Dyno took a look at the digital clock on the wall. By his estimate, he had about six minutes before he'd have to go back upstairs to continue broadcasting. Hopefully he'll get some more good calls that would justify shortening his break time, he thought, resting his long-necked head against the wall (his neck being long enough to make it impractical to rest his head against his hand). It was at this point his gaze was pointed to the side, and he noticed a fellow sitting next to him.

A big, rather dirty-looking Besalisk was there. Seemed to fit a lot of the stereotypes, Dyno could tell, going from his choice of attire and big, cheesy grin on his bristly face. Still, at least they were pleasant stereotypes, which is more than can be said for most. The Besalisk looked back at him and asked him about Teema's attitude. Must be new around here, going by that tone.

"Only if you're human." Dyno told him bluntly, folding his arms and attempting to smile in the presence of the newcomer. "So you should be a-okay." Dyno said, making an 'okay' gesture with one hand.

It was only after this that he got a closer look at the Besalisk's features. Dyno squinted behind his goggles, taking it all in. He tended to do this when he met someone knew, lest he be accused of being a poor judge of character. Poor judges of character tended to end up either dead or enslaved in a place like this. He'd already done numerous PSAs basically saying that, albeit in a less gloomy way.

"...Holy... sheez, is that fuel streaming down your shirt?" He uttered, his gaze being drawn upwards by said streams, which seemed to be oozing from around the man's face. He plucked one of his strapless goggles and held it open for a moment, exposing his squint as he examined him some more, like he was some kind of doctor. "And... there's bruises and singes on your face. Have you been in an accident?"

"Ah, Dyno, Dyno, Dyno; always forgettin' where the radio ends and face-to-face talkin' begins." Teema suddenly swooped in on her wheeled stool, sarcastically shaking her head. Dyno had to concede she was right there, but his line of thought (and line of sight, to be sure) was distracted by the plate of oversized meat Kabobs she had resting between one hand and her elbow. Being a natural carnivore had that effect on you. She rested said arm on the counter, enabling the plate to slide off and onto Dyno's figurative lap, showing that usual dexterity that restaurant staff tended to have.

"An' I'm guessin' yer new 'ere." She said, turning to the bruised Besalisk. "'Ow may Teema be o' service? Y'look like y'could do with some Gamorrean sausages. I got too many o' them bloody things back there." She suggested, pointing one thumb back towards the kitchen.

"What irony..." Dyno said to her in their customary back-and-forth, though his gaze was still being forced away from his food. It had to be said, if she didn't follow her own advice on social etiquette. Even if it got him distracted. He looked over at the clock again; looked like he'd have to take his food upstairs with him.

"'Ey, uhh... Miss Teema, yous gotta see this 'ere..." A nervous, raspy voice called over from behind the boss. It was one of her employees, a pale Gungan wearing what resembled grimy scrubs.

"Egh. Damnit Yod-Yod, I'm busy!" She belted out, swivelled about in his face with lightning speed.

"But-" Yod-Yod almost began with a finger raised, only to be cut off. His surprised expression, or lack thereof, seemed to suggest this was not an unusual occurrence.

"For th'love o' Bobbyqueasy or Bobo-croquet whatever the 'ell it is, say no more!" Teema yelled at him again, before swivelling back around to Dyno and his new best friend. "I'll be right back... I 'ope."

Thus, she got down off her wheeled stool, exposing her true shortness, and followed her employee down the counter to a recently-cleared table by the door, constantly pointing at the floor as a form of punctuating her words. "This better be real bloody important, Yod-Yod. I still 'aven't forgotten dat incident with th'Anooba dat was on a leash!"

As this was going on, Dyno had taken the opportunity to briefly forget about his deadlines and snatch up one of the Kabobs on his plate. His massive, cavernous reptilian jaw assured that he was largely incapable of eating delicately in the same way an average humanoid can. Thus, he instead bit into it and slid one of the meaty chunks off the skewer.

"She lovesh 'em really..." He offhandedly explained to the Besalisk next to him as he chewed, "...But nobody likesh being interrupted."

It was while he was saying this he looked past the Besalisk for a moment, and caught sight of something astonishing enough to make him stop chewing. Off to the other (horizontal) side of the diner from where he was sitting, he saw another Tiss'Shar looking back at him. Female, from the looks of things. It was hard to explain how he could tell the difference between the sexes of his people, but it was obviously an innate instinct sort of thing.

He found it astonishing not because he'd never met another one of his kind before; he'd travelled to the Tiss'Shar home planet of the same name while he was still out and about selling his records; but he'd never imagined one would have any reason to come down to this hellhole. His experiences had bore this assumption out until now, as one was right here, and looking back at him, too. The sight was eye-widening, in fact. Perhaps surreal. When you go for so long without meeting another one of your species, the effect was like looking in some bizarre mirror. It was difficult to quantify in words.

As Dyno was still thinking of how to use this news, his look at the fellow Tiss'Shar was interrupted when another one of Teema's employees walked over to her and blocked their view of each other. The employee, a waitress, was a very gloomy-looking young Falleen with a half-shaved, half massive eye-covering fringe for hair and piercings all over the place. The label on her top said 'PHABBS'.

Teema's natural inclusiveness (humans notwithstanding) lead her to attract all manner of subcultures to her employment, and her association with the Electric Dinkos certainly helped.

"Heeey... so, are you ready to, like, order an' stuff?" Phabbs asked the new Tiss'Shar in a 'let's get this over with' kind of voice, oblivious to Dyno's attempt to look around her to continue inspecting the new arrival, to make sure he hadn't been spiked with Herbs in his Kabob. It wouldn't be the first time.

From where Tir was sitting, she could see and hear the scene unfold between this Tiss’shar male and those around them, provided she focused on them. Or at least, she heard most of it. The woman at the counter identified herself as “Teema” towards the Besalisk, which, given the name of the diner, almost certainly meant she was the proprietor of the restaurant. She seemed brusque, fast-talking, and even for Tir, a bit difficult to understand. The Besalisk appeared to simply be a customer: one who was at least friendly enough to strike up a conversation with strangers. Although, she supposed it was possible that he did actually know the Tiss’shar, and had simply never been to the diner. As for the Tiss’shar himself, she found that there were some details she noticed which made him seem more familiar than she would have expected.

While the general noise of the restaurant did make it somewhat difficult to hear clearly, Tir thought she heard the proprietor refer to the Tiss’shar as “Dyno,” or something similar. Tir could have easily misunderstood the woman’s accent, but his voice also had a familiar sound to it, which gave her an educated guess as to who he might be. However, she was pulled away from her eavesdropping when a waitress, a Falleen woman evidently named “Phabbs” stepped between them, asking for her order in a voice that was just barely rude enough to still have some plausible deniability. Tir had not actually intended to stay in the diner for long, being that she had only arrived in the first place for a matter of business. However, this Tiss’shar had her curious, and besides which, she supposed the smell from carrying around that severed head for the past few hours had given her a bit of an appetite.

Since Tir had not so much as seen a menu, she decided to order something common, and simple. ”Hmm, yes, thank you. I’ll have a gizka steak. Raw, if possible. And a glass of water. That will be all for me.” She answered, simply and directly.

Tir gave the waitress a chance to write her order and get on her way before she focused her attention back on the Tiss’shar. Seeing as her booth was rather close, she decided it couldn’t hurt to simply walk up and introduce herself. There were certainly many people in level 3030 who were rightfully afraid to so much as be around strangers. Generally, it was the new arrivals who would make an effort to be open and friendly, but Tir was something of an exception in that regard.

Standing up from her booth, Tir left behind the now-empty pouch the Devaronian had given with her payment to mark the booth as taken, then walked the short distance towards the counter. Stopping just in front of the Tiss’shar, she leaned herself against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest. For a brief moment, she was silent as she curiously looked him over, apart from the rhythmic tapping of one of her metal claws against the wall.

”I will be entirely honest, I did not expect to meet one of my own kind today. Or any day, really. The name’s Tir-Nem-Saral. A pleasure.” Tir said politely and directly, which frankly could be seen as strange in this area.

"Only if you're human."

Was the Lizardlike sentient’s response to Krenn’s question. A frown started to form, it was usually humans that had sentiments of species superiority.

“So you should be a-okay.”

The frown made place for a sheepish grin.

“Indeed I should.”

Krenn replied when the Tiss’shar started to inspect him closely. Krenn couldn’t help but feel awkward, and as a reflex he started scratching the back of his head.

“Uh, wha-“

Krenn started, only to be interrupted by the Tiss’shar.

"...Holy... sheez, is that fuel streaming down your shirt?"

Krenn stared down, pulling his wife-beater taut to inspect it and take a sniff. Cooling fluid. Krenn hadn’t had a chance to take a look in the mirror something he grew to regret even more when the Tiss’shar said:

"And... there's bruises and singes on your face. Have you been in an accident?"

He hadn’t thought of it yet, but Krenn thought there was probably little advantage in stating he was probably being looked for by the Empire, this was Coruscant after all.

“Uh, yeah, new in town, uh, hit up the wrong-“

Krenn was formulating an excuse involving gangs or something the like while he was feeling the sore spots on his face when the owner of the establishment swooped in:

"Ah, Dyno, Dyno, Dyno; always forgettin' where the radio ends and face-to-face talkin' begins."

"An' I'm guessin' yer new 'ere."

She said, turning to the bruised Besalisk.

"'Ow may Teema be o' service? Y'look like y'could do with some Gamorrean sausages. I got too many o' them bloody things back there."

She suggested, pointing one thumb back towards the kitchen. Krenn nodded in genuine appreciation of her offer.

“That would be nice ma’am.”

Krenn let the rest of the back and forth go past him as he felt his face some more and mumbled his silent excuses to go to the toilet. A look in the mirror of there showed how roughed up he was. He looked like hell and more bruises displayed themselves as he turn his face before the mirror.

“Fuck”

Krenn started washing his face up, generously spilling on his shirt, rubbing some of the cooling fluid stains to make them less apparent. A last brush over his face and he did feel lightly refreshed, even though he still looked like hell.

“Look what a mess you have gotten yourself in this time mate. Coruscant! By the stars… How do I get out of here?”

Krenn mumbled into the mirror. His mind racing over his options. He needed credits at any rate, maybe a get on with a local freighter crew, but he was a gazillion levels below Coruscant’s surface. He brushed the stubble of his head and figured he should get on with his dinner first, get some information.

He was just retaking his seat when the Tiss’shar apparently named Dyno commented on the microcosm of the cantina. Krenn just nodded politely, hoping to make a better impression now. He was just about to start asking away when his momentary companion was distracted by something. Following the Dyno’s gaze resulted in a rare sight: Another Tiss’shar. Having never seen the species before Krenn couldn’t help but wonder if they were native to Coruscant and just didn’t like the light or something. Krenn refrained from asking due to the arrival of his dinner, asking for a strong drink on the side. Krenn worked through the first bites of his meal and was about to resume something of a conversation with Dyno that the other Tiss’shar approached.

”I will be entirely honest, I did not expect to meet one of my own kind today. Or any day, really. The name’s Tir-Nem-Saral. A pleasure.”

Dyno, Tir and Krenn:
--------------------
The Tiss'Shar on the other side of the room got up, and was now walking over to him. This was not good, Dyno thought to himself. It wasn't good because his prying eyes had evidently upset her sense of privacy without him realising, and now he was probably going to get a right bollocking from her. But there was still time to salvage the situation, he thought.

He quickly jerked his head away from her direction and focused on eating. He knew he had to be back at his broadcast very soon, but he couldn't just run off. That would look very bad indeed. No ex-Dinko could ever do such a thing.

Thus, it took a bit longer than would be ideal for the DJ to process the words that eventually came out of her mouth, after she had stood behind him rather ominously, tapping her claws against the wall. They didn't seem to have a hint of anger to them... but of course, words could be very deceiving. He chose to play things safe.

"Uh... yello. The feeling's mutual." He admitted, cautiously looking back at the lady whose name he now knew was 'Tir'. It served as a reminder of something; though he, too, had a native name in the form of Kinn-Dai-Shassna, he never used it except on occasions of grave formality... but he'd always told himself, when he was but a hatchling, that he'd save it for whenever he met fellow Tiss'Shar.

"The name's, uh... well, it's Kinn, but everyone calls me Dyno. As in, DJ. DJ Dyno. Because I'm a DJ. ...Duh." He said sarcastically in a probably futile attempt to break the ice, shrugging.

Tir gave a grin, or at least the Tiss'shar version of one, as her prior suspicions were confirmed. "DJ Dyno...I thought I recognized that voice. I never knew you were Tiss'shar." She commented.

Dyno was pleasantly surprised at what had just come out of her mouth. Not even the slightest hint of a grudge in there, and he knew a grudge when he heard one. It was only now that he was properly looking at her face-to-face that he noticed her arm. Or rather, the lack of an arm. An organic arm, that is, replaced by a metallic black thing. The sight almost made him sigh, but he managed to stop it on its way out his own mouth. He always found it somewhat regrettable that many of his kind were most known for being mercenaries and the like.

"You look like you've been in some scrapes." He said, if only to gleam some more detail over what sort of conflicts she got herself involved in. "Big scrapes, even. This being the place that it is, I'm guessing that wasn't from a construction accident, or hiking trip in the mountains of Corellia gone horribly wrong. So the only other option is that you're some kind of Merc. I mean, it certainly looks less healable than whatever happened to you." He briefly referred to the Besalisk fellow, who now looked like he had some water splashed all over the place. "You need to see a doctor, or something."

Krenn, who had politely abstained from the conversation thus far and had focused on the plate of Gamorrean sausage before him took a quick bite and let the excess sausage drop back on his plate.
"Nah, I'm fine, no need for doctors. It's mostly surface damage anyway and since I have never been considered that attractive it is of little importance." Krenn chewed down the rest of his sausage and grinned at the two. Opening his hands in the 'what can you do' manner. "Krenn's the name by the way, pleasure to meet you both."

Tir looked down at her mechanical forearm, lifting it up slightly. She flexed out her fingers, then rotated her hand at the wrist. Back when she had first recieved the prosthetic, it had been covered in synthflesh that near perfectly replicated the look and feel of her scales. However, once that had become damaged, she never replaced it. Instead, it now had simple, black plating which she tried to keep as clean as possible.

"You're partially right. I am a mercenary, of sorts. A bounty hunter, usually. But, this thing is a souvenir from the Clone Wars." Tir explained, though her attention was drawn to the Besalisk nearby once Dyno pointed out his injuries. "But yes, your wounds look far more...recent. Granted, you practically need a few cuts and bruises to blend in on thirty-thirty."

Dyno chuckled slightly at Tir's remark. Evidently, she was no stranger to the inner workings of this lovely neighbourhood. As he did so, however, he took another look at the clock on the wall. Clearly, he hadn't a lot of time to be engaging in pleasantries, regrettably. As much as he loved hosting his show, it did take up an awful lot of his spare time. He had often thought of getting himself a true co-host to occupy those moments; a droid, perhaps.

After his initial shock as displayed by a silent gasp, he did think of something, though. The Dinkos were always looking for extra protection at their philanthropic ventures, and as cut-down as they were, now reduced to working as hired muscle for Gorro, they were still the only good bunch of people in this hellhole, as far as Dyno was concerned.

"...You know, Tir, I haven't got a lot of time on my hands before I have to go back to my broadcast. But if you're looking for more work, then... well, I'll be honest, I don't like violence, so I could never bring myself to arrange for you to get hired by some friends of mine. But if I just so happened to offhandedly mention you to them and they decided they liked the sound of you, then that'd be a different story."

Krenn's interest peaked at this; his chewing slowed as he raised his head to listen in more, refraining from speaking till the two opted to include him again.

Tir’s immediate reaction to Dyno’s offer was slight skepticism. She was no stranger to job offers. While hardly anyone in 3030 could be considered charitable, many were looking for capable employees. After enough successful bounties, most of the syndicates in the area had ended up offering her some kind of other work at some point, the Pures excluded. However, even if the job itself was not terribly unsavory, she was not going to allow herself to directly support their operations.

”Hmm, well I am not saying no, but you should know that I am more discerning about the jobs that I take than most mercs.” Tir answered. "Taking on bounties allows me to choose targets who I have no qualms about killing or capturing. The majority of my work targets the Pures, as you might imagine. I am not opposed to other work, but I have to know that the people that I'm working for have the interest of thirty-thirty's innocents in mind. Or at the very least, they aren't actively hurting them."

After a few moments for thought, Tir's expression began to seem more encouraging. Given how long she had lived in the area, she had heard his radio show before, so she at least knew his public persona. Needless to say, it was far different from most of the local, gang-run programs. "I've heard your show before, Kinn. It may not be the kind of music I prefer to listen to constantly, but I've heard the things you say. I think your work is a positive force in this area, so I'm inclined to give you some trust. Do you think the people you're talking about are the kind of people I'd be willing to work for?"

Dyno listened attentively to Tir's words, feeling quite reassured. They seemed to think on the same wavelength, and this made him smile. But that was nothing compared to the warm feeling he got inside when he was told he was a positive influence. He couldn't remember the last time someone had acknowledged such things out loud. He always told himself that it wouldn't make a bit of difference, but...

"I, uh... thank you. Thank you so much." He said sheepishly, sounding like he was holding back tears of joy. Good thing he was wearing goggles.

"Ahem. Yeah, you'll love this." He managed to splutter out, getting back on track. "See, back before I got into music, I used to be part of a local Swoop Club; the Electric Dinkos, they're called. All-Alien group. They used to be pretty big, but when the Pures arrived on the scene, they 'cut them down to size'." He said, clenching his teeth together when he uttered that euphemism. "Nowadays, they're a pretty low-key outfit. They take work for Gorro, but only to pay the bills. They've sworn to never kill anyone without good reason, even humans. Anyway, they're going to show up at The Pit sometime soon, and they want me to be there, to help turn people away from getting recruited by the big Gangs... uh, covertly. I don't know for sure, but I imagine they wouldn't mind some extra security."

Tir was briefly indecisive with the description Dyno gave of this swoop club. For one, despite not actually having a personal stake in the matter, she did not approve of being exclusionary towards anyone, Humans included. They also were working for Gorro, though in that regard, she supposed she could not fault them without knowing more. Many of her bounties were paid for by Gorro as well. However, the other aspects of his description did seem encouraging. She would have to confirm it through experience with them, but Dyno said they did have a moral code, and what they intended to do at the Pit was certainly something she would support. It was difficult to find people, let alone organizations in 3030 with even an acceptable ethical standard, so she knew it would be unreasonable to expect perfection.

There was enough of a delay for the silence to be distinctly noticeable before Tir responded. Dyno took this opportunity to look behind him somewhat awkwardly during this period of silence. Old habits died hard, perhaps, but he'd always been told to remain wary during these sorts of delicate conversations. Krenn thought of breaking the silence by responding to the offer himself, but doubt kept him in check.

”Well, I will say up front that I do not approve of excluding Humans just as much as I dislike those who include only Humans." Tir eventually responded. "However, as long as they are not malicious towards them, I can tolerate it. If they are as you say they are, then we may be able to do some good together. The Pit is a brutal place, though it is at least all voluntary, as far as I know. Still, if the Electric Dinkos want to keep people out of the gangs, I can act as backup security. I’ll give you my communicator code, it’s on my…”

Tir reached back and pulled out her datapad, stopping herself once she looked down at the cracked screen. ”Oh, right…still need to get that fixed.” She commented, barring her teeth in annoyance. ”Okay, how about this? Let me see your datapad and I’ll just give you the location of my apartment. I just finished a bounty, so I should be home at least in the evenings for the next few weeks. If not, you can slide a message under my door. I’ll have to trust you not to give that to anyone else; I don’t really like for a lot of people to know where I live.”

Dyno simply listened and nodded throughout Tir's expression of her concerns. He had to admit to himself, he was never a huge fan of exclusionism among their group, but he understood that it was for good reason; solidarity. Most of the Swoopers in his old club had some seriously bad experiences with humans. It was only natural they'd be angered enough to exclude them.

"That sounds like a good idea." He nodded much more dramatically than before. "Let me just-"

A frown soon appeared on Dyno's face as he patted about his vest and his toolbelt. Something was missing.

"...Oh, wait, it's upstairs. Damn. Uh... Phabbs!" He looked over to the gloomy-looking Falleen waitress, who had just finished sliding some dishes over to a rather loud Aleena family near the window. Wrong place for a family visit, he thought. "...Phabbs, my lady, could ya come over here a moment?"

Phabbs did as she was asked, albeit in a clearly slow and reluctant fashion, as if she'd fall asleep on the way there. "Uh... yeah?" She asked about two-thirds of the distance from Dyno, making sure to sweep her hair out of her face.

"I need to borrow your notepad real quick."

"...Why?"

"Because I left my datapad upstairs and I need to note something down."

"Like, note what down?"

Dyno rubbed the top of his head, slightly irritated. "That's something I'd rather be kept private."

Phabbs took a moment to look over the DJ and the other Tiss'Shar, trying to form some kind of amusing connection. Amusing enough to make her chuckle under her breath and smirk to herself immaturely. "Heh. Okay..." she said, handing the notepad over to him.

As Dyno started writing Krenn finally overcame his scruples about mingling in the conversation between the two Tiss'Shars. His finished plate was the main factor that prompted it, but still, both these beings seemed half-decent. "Any other job offers going around? I am sort of new here. You both locals I presume?"

"More or less." Dyno responded to the Besalisk, briefly looking up from his note-taking. "I can't say I have any job openings, but... well, what's your profession?"

"Well I am a freighter pilot, but now without a freighter.... I'm half decent with blasters though, and good in a brawl, if that is the kind of thing you are looking for" Krenn responded with a tinge of sadness.

"A pilot, eh?" Dyno said, getting down from his seat. "I'm sure there's plenty of work openings for skilled pilots down here. The education in trades like that down here is... well, it's not what I'd call Alderaan University-calibre. So you'd be a standout. Just be careful who you choose to work for."

"Really, you think they would be looking for pilots way down here? I thought only public transport and planetary freighters. I am a space pilot. More importantly, why the warning? Gangs?"

"Have you never heard of transferrable skills, man? In any case... yes, gangs. Lots of them. I would tell you more, but I haven't got much time." Dyno eyed the clock on the wall again. "Simply put, 3030 is not where you want to be. If I was in your position, I'd get the hell out of here ASAP. I just don't leave because... I'm needed here."

After Tir had given Dyno her address, along with some directions, she listened to the issues the Besalisk, Krenn, seemed to be having. Based on the way he was talking, and the types of injuries that covered him, he appeared to be more than just 'sort of' new to the area. She looked him over curiously, specifically concentrating on his wounds. "A pilot without a freighter? And exactly how...recently did you lose that freighter? Anyway, as for the gangs, he is correct. You don't want to work for Gorro, or the Blackened Stars. The Pures are human supremacists, and may attack or kill you without reason. The least destructive of them all are likely the Sirens. Although, that is not to say that many of their operations are not illegal. They will work with men, though they only accept women among their gang."

Krenn took a good gulp from his drink to mask his discomfort with her questions. "Just a few days ago, impounded indefinitely, you know those Imperials." Krenn said, quickly taking another sip to mask the lie. Though they seemed good folk, he just wasn't sure.

Meanwhile, Dyno made sure to rip the page out of Phabbs' notepad before leaving on the side, wringing his wrists slightly, and clutching them tight once the Pures came up again. He was worried about this four-armed fellow's welfare in this kind of environment, but he didn't feel confident in attempting to aid him any further, not without instilling panic within him, and making him go to extreme lengths to get out. Going to extreme lengths would just draw attention to him, and make him act irrationally.

He picked up his unfinished plate of food; this would have to be another lunch-at-broadcast, though he already expected that. "Anyway, listen. I have to get back to the ol' station. I would make some snarky remark about the vitality of my 'positive influence' here, but I can't think of one. My mind is slow and boring when I'm not up there. Or riding Swoops. You know how it is. Ahem. Anyway, it was nice meeting you, Tir, and... what was your name... Krenn, that was it." He asked the Besalisk; if he hadn't remembered at the last minute, he would have decideded he didn't really have enough time to be waiting for a response; the fellow, as nice as he was, seemed a bit slow and ponderous to him, which would explain why he was so concerned for his welfare. Dyno headed for the bathroom corridor, on the path to his apartment, but managed to stop and turn back towards Tir before he left, trying to keep a smile going on. "I'll get in touch with you somehow about that security thing. See ya, Teema!" He yelled past Tir, attracting the attention of the recently-emerged-from-the-kitchen lady. "Don't forget about my Ardees!"

"Wot, yer leavin' already?!" Teema did her damnedest to zoom in Dyno's direction on her wheeled stool, but he was too fast. "...Am I s'posed to send it up there like I'm some kinda Kath 'Ound with a plate strapped to its back? Ooh-egh."

Rubbing her forehead, she turned to address Tir. "Heh, lucky you, you caughta glimpse o' 3030's 'appiest chap outta his element, an' exposed 'im for the socially awkward dullard 'e is. Y'still wanna date the guy? At least, that's what I assumed y'were doin'. ...Nah, but seriously, 'e's a good kid. Jus' know that y'don't need to, y'know... Tiss'Shar ain't nearly extinct, I'll say dat much." She said, narrowing her eyelids; if she could immaturely grin with that beak, she would. She was old enough to know that acting your age didn't really mean a thing, or so she thought.

Upon the suggestion that Tir's conversation with Dyno was romantic in nature, she simply laughed, and so did Krenn. It would take much more than sharing a species to capture Tir's interest in that regard. She had not actually had any actual romantic interests in the time she had been in level 3030.

Teema retained her expression, but its meaning gradually transitioned as she leaned up against the counter to speak more seriously. "Oh, an' by the way, Yod-Yod showed me security footage o' you bringin' severed 'eads in 'ere. 'Uman 'eads. As much as I can't stand those self-righteous, eggshell-wearin' Peach-Monkeys, I don't appreciate it when people bring body parts into an eatin' establishment. People will think I'm choppin' 'em up, or somethin'. I ain't like that. I got taste, haha!"

She went silent for nearly ten seconds after that, first to hold in her own laughter, then to look slightly worried that Tir wasn't saying anything in response. "...Dat was a joke."

Teema's mention of the security footage she had reviewed, Tir did take a bit more seriously, though she maintained the same seemingly lighthearted attitude as the proprietor. "Yes, well, it was the head of a Pure, if that makes you feel any better. Regardless, I can assure you that is not my normal mode of operations." She commented as she reached into her pouch and pulled out her cracked datapad once more. "Datapad's busted, so I had to improvise, and the client insisted on meeting here. With luck, I won't have to do that again. The scent of the fresh blood makes me hungry. Speaking of which..." She began, glancing back to her booth. "...it seems my steak has arrived. Since I'm here, I may as well go ahead and give you my payment."

Reaching into another pouch, Tir produced a few credits and laid them down on the counter near Teema. Notably, it was over twice the cost of her actual order, as an apology for the trouble.

"Heh, dat's good t'know." Teema said in reference to the 'blood makes me hungry' remark. Any other person might have been unnerved, but not Teema. It was her age again, most likely. It was probably a good thing that Dyno wasn't around to hear that; he had the same feeling, of course, but he tended to be a lot more hush-hush about it.

"...I'll be sure to start layin' blood trails by th'door or somethin'." Teema joked. "...Good thing dat was a Pure. They can all go to 'ell, frankly. Though if y'ask me, I reckon they're in c'oots with th'Empire. Just like their people, always wantin' t'take everythin' over, never satisfied with what they got... buuuut, I s'pose dat's a rant for another day. At least 'untin' 'em still pays well. Bloody 'ell, look at dat." She blurted the last few parts out unexpectedly, upon seeing the amount paid for Tir's food. This called for a rare display of genuine politeness. "Y'enjoy yerself, m'lady."

"Thank you." Tir added with a simple nod. She looked to Krenn with a slight hint of worry, not that her more subtle facial expressions would necessarily be readable to a Besalisk. "Take care of yourself. Hopefully Kinn will be able to find you something. If not...well I suppose the Sirens would not be the worst option. Just be sure to be respectful towards them. If you need help, you have my permission to ask Kinn to put you into contact with me." She explained before heading back to her booth.

Krenn couldn't help but feel lucky for the two strangers he stumbled into. He said his thanks ads he waved to Tir and Dyno, he couldn't help but feel lost, alone in the diner. He searched his pockets for the few credits he had. Giving some serious thought about visiting the Sirens.

"You were always a slimy little-" Mar started, only to be cut off. Seems like Gurak was as rude as he was unhonourable.

"Let's ma-aa-ke things interesting, shall we?" Gurak pointed the tip of his sword at Mar. "Should you win, you get the Pit-" As if Mar wanted the Pit. It'd be a good steady source of income sure, and a good well of information, and he could keep people off the streets hurting inn- okay he kind of wanted the Pit. For what little good he could make it do at least, though he hadn't heard the counter offer yet. "-should I win I get your ship." Okay there it was, the Nighfury. She was fast, agile and deadly enough to get the job done. Big enough to carry a reasonable haul of cargo if necessary and best of all still had some old military codes from the Clone Wars aboard which proved handy when dealing with Imperials who still kept a lot of the old protocol. Though as per usual Gurak had an extra card up his sleeve. The slimy cheating - "Oh, did I forget? If you win you also get your da-aa-ughter back."

That was the breaking point for Mar. "Filthy Hut'uun. You don't own her."

Gurak merely raised his finger at that. "A-aa-ctually I do. You told me to give her a job here. By thirty-thirty sta-aa-ndards that means she is mine. Ma-aa-ybe I'll see what she can do to keep some of my more wealthy customers sa-aa-tisfied." That was the breaking point for Mar, there were no more words to be said to the Gotal. He didn't know how much of that anyone had heard, obviously the audience wouldn't know who Tanya was nor likely care but he was kind of hoping that she had heard the back and forth enough to put up a fight and get out of there. Or to hand him a blaster.

That would have to wait however, he let the line of the whip drop and hit the activation stud ont he handle as the whole whip lit up in a green glow. Occasionally electricity would spark and crackle jumping onto broken bits of metal in the ring. He swung his right arm above and round his head, the whip casting a long arc before smacking it down beside the Gotal, who didn't even bother to block but instead rolled the other way. As soon as he began running towards Mar he was already pulling the whip back and around, turning on his left leg he spun himself in the sand, the whip following his turn almost lazily as he lowered it to waist height. Gurak twisted his blade to block it, the impact between the two caused the whip to go taught, but rather than the whip wrapping around and hitting Gurak the Gotal twisted as he pushed the blade further from himself.

Several small arcs of electricity jumped onto the gotals fur, burning it slightly. Had the smell been discernable over that of the stale blood that constantly lingered in this place Mar may have enjoyed the fight a little bit more. As it was he would just have to be content with seeing the act. He pulled his right arm pulling the whip back around, de-activating it as he did so. He wrapped it as quickly as he possibly could and clipped it back onto his belt before running at Gurak. It was an uncommon tactic to say the least but this wasn't a show anymore. This was the literal definition of a grudge match.

He looked up as he drew his blade again and there was a brief moment of surprise in his eyes as Mar was running him down, he went for a vertical slash but using the loose composition of the sand Mar kicked his feet out and slid below the blade. Had his nose been any bigger he would have lost part of it. On his way past however he grabbed one of the Gotals legs pulling him over. They both managed to return to their feet at the same time. He'd have to play this carefully, had he been able to keep any part of his armour right know he would have chosen his bracers. That way he could easily have blocked the Sword. As it was he'd have to rely on dodging the blade rather than blocking it. Unless he felt like loosing a limb.

He dove at the Gotal, side stepping as the blade came around again. He felt a slight sting as the blade cut a thin line across his stomach, still. It wasn't as if he didn't have enough scars, and the blade hadn't pierced deeply enough to cause any major damage - either that or he had more adrenaline pumping around his system than he previously thought. He let the swing past, Gurak pulling his arm and blade back in close for another attack. Though before he did Mar grabbed the arm, and twisted. Trying to cause enough pain so that the Gotals pain reflext would cut in and he'd open his hand dropping the sword. His right hand still holding onto Guraks arm he spun himself around till his back was against the front of his opponent, jabbing his left elbow into his side.

Then shaking the gotals arm the blade was finally dropped, pulling Guraks arm over his shoulder he then gave it a yank, before letting go mid ark casting the smaller (but no less heavy) being over his shoulder. He then grabbed the handle of the Vibrosword when the idea struck him. He found a sword for Tanya.

That said he walked over to his downed opponent and held the blade to his throat. By this point the Pit was as quiet as he had ever known it to be. He nodded at the announcer booth as the music was cut throughout the establishment.

He still raised his voice. "This slimy, no good little... Well. You know what he is. Promised me that if I won I gained control of this establishment, to anyone who is thinking about jumping my daughter to get it back into this Gotals hands. I wouldn't recommend it, I think I've just proven I don't need a weapon to take someone down and if you take her I'm coming after you with everything I've got. While I'm at it, there's going to be a new rule here. If you want a fight, you do it in the pit. This thing sits empty enough of the time outside of the set matches anyway, so if you've got a problem with someone you bring it down here out of the way. If you decided to have it outside of this arena you'll be fighting me." He slammed the blade down, straight into the elbow of the Gotal, right between the joint.

Gurak screamed as blood leaked from the wound, likely that arm would be lost now. Usually Mar wouldn't have resorted to such measures, but he had to prove a point here and now that nobody threatened his daughter. No-one. The cheers in the room just proved how much of a blood thirsty lot the crowd was. "Get Doc down here to clean that mess." With that he turned to walk out the Arena, looking down at and patting the wound on his stomach. He had been right, it wasn't too deep. Though before meeting up with Tanya he'd need to get it cleaned and sterilized. The last thing he needed was a karking infection.

---

Tanya hadn't watched the exchange. She'd been behind the bar the whole time, a tone point she thought she saw someone she recognized but byt he time she had managed to navigate her way to him he had already been given a drink and had moved off to join a Twi'lek girl. As long as he enjoyed himself she supposed, she was here to serve after all. She would have proferred it if she had managed to stay behind the bar, she knew how to make the best Gungan Nutbuster after all, but of course being the newbie and being female she was sent out with the tray of drinks to hand around between various customers. Not only did she have to navigate past the drunkyards stumbling all over the place and seeming to constantly be in her way but there were the hoots and cheers that followed her too.

The worst thing, they wouldn't even have cared if they knew she was only seventeen.

She finally made her way to the table at which the Twi'lek and familiar face had been at, but familiar face wasn't sitting there anymore. She placed the drink infront of the Twi'lek anyway. "From the bartender, don't worry. There's no drugs or anything in it, I threw out the one he made and made one myself." She shrugged as she saw the fight between Mar and Gurak. A slight flicker of worry on her face, she hadn't heard the conditions of the fight earlier but the Gotal still had a sword. He was carrying something lethal while Mar wasn't, despite that the stance Mar held was one of confidence.

"Also, if you don't mind me asking. Who was your friend? I feel like I should know who he is." She was eyeing the Twi'lek girl curiously until the room went quiet and she looked at the arena. Mar had the sword held at Guraks throat. All she could think of was don't do it. Mar rarely killed, he just hoped that he wouldn't -

"-to anyone who is thinking about jumping my daughter to get it back into this Gotals hands. I wouldn't recommend it, I think I've just proven I don't need a weapon to take someone down and if you take her I'm coming after you with everything I've got. While I'm at it, there's going to be a new rule here. If you want a fight, you do it in the pit. This thing sits empty enough of the time outside of the set matches anyway, so if you've got a problem with someone you bring it down here out of the way. If you decided to have it outside of this arena you'll be fighting me."

She felt anger well up inside her, so the filthy Hut'uun had planned to take her?! Maybe it was best if- No. Killing was never the answer. Though she couldn't help but allow herself a small smile as Mar drove the sword into the Gotals elbow. Then she shook her head clear, everything was conflicting within her. From her two lives what was the right one to follow? The fact that Mar now owned the pit didn't even register. Her internal conflict boiling over, who was she? Really? She loved Mar with all her heart, like the father she never had. That much was an undeniable fact, and in all her heart she wanted to make him proud. Wanted to become a Mandalorian. Part of the clan, part of his people.

Though what about the Jedi? It had been seven years since the Purge. She had struggled so hard to let that part of her life go but she couldn't. She was raised as a Jedi, that was the path chosen for her at a young age. The will of the Force. While she had always felt that the Force had betrayed her somehow, with the fall of the Jedi Order and the Fall of the Republic... That was the reason for this hunt, there was apparently another survivor out there. She wasn't alone, at least that's not what the rumours said. She wasn't quite sure what she would do if she found one... but she had to try.

3030 Airspace

Jonas toned down the speed of The Star Skipper as he entered the 3030 flight area. Rex chimed and beep in binary behind him, repairing a loose wire on the galaxy map as he did so. "I told you already, we're meeting with the uh..." Jonas racked his brains for the name of the gang he was supposed to meet. After a few moments and a close call with a shuttle, his eyes lit up. "Blackened Stars, that's who we're supposed to meet. We're carrying weapons and ammo, about 7,000 credits worth. Pretty nice payday, my friend." Jonas chuckled as Rex chirped happily at the information. The bay they were supposed to meet was Bay 47 Hanger 9.

Jonas eased into hovering mode as he slowly descended into his appointed hangar, he saw what he assumed was the gang members gathering, about 7 or 8 of them. He touched down on the hangar, putting all systems into standby. He didn't want to stay on Coruscant for very long, especially in slime hole like 3030. "Rex, make sure all systems are operational and ready to go, I want to get out of here as soon as possible." Rex beeped in acknowledgement as he plugged into the systems. Jonas made his way through The Star Skipper, checking that all cargo was in place. He walked to the exit ramp and smacked the button, the door opening and the ramp extending down. The gang members waited in a semi-circle facing him. As Jonas sauntered out, he looked around the hangar. Besides himself and the gang members it was completely deserted. "Alright fellas, the cargo is all in there. Checked it myself, now, let's talk payment."

The seeming leader of the group nodded to the others as he pulled out his datapad and Jonas did the same. "So, your payment for this shipment is 5500 Credits." The Rodian gang member said matter of factually. Jonas chuckled and replied "No, it isn't. When I spoke with your representative, he said 7,000 at least. Don't try to strong arm me on this, it won't work." The rodian looked up menacingly and said "You'll take 5500 or you'll take nothing at all." Jonas's eyes narrowed in anger, the he heard Rex let out an electronic scream. He whipped around to see the members blasting at Rex, with no luck. The little astromech was hovering this way and that, zapping a gang member with his stunner, sending them tumbling down the ramp. "You son of a bi-" Jonas begin to say, but was cut short by everything going black.

Jonas felt himself being dragged through a smelly area. He opened his eyes and saw they were in an alley. A rough hand was under both of his armpits and he could see Rex being dragged lazily across the ground, an occasional spark flaring. Angrily, Jonas bucked upwards, throwing his captors off guard and one of them lost their grip. He wrenched away from the one on the left, sending a fist into the face of the one on the right. The gang member fell to the ground as the one of the left grabbed him again, only for Jonas to grab the blaster on his captor's hip and yank it out, jamming it into the face of it's owner and pulling the trigger.

The gang member's face exploded in a shower of sparks and blood, his body crashing to the ground. The other gang members were slow to react. Jonas sent a few well placed shot into the chest of Rex's captor, ripping off the power inhibitor they attached to him as he ran by. Rex flickered to life, immediately assessing the situation and hovering to his feet, zooming after Jonas. Jonas blasted through two more gang members before seeing his equipment, being worn by the leader. He let loose a new torrent of bolts from the stolen blaster, one hitting the leader in the leg and sending him tumbling to the ground. Jonas got on top of him and jammed the blaster into his face and asked "Where the fuck is my ship!?" he demanded.

The leader just smiled and said "Somewhere where you'll never get to it again, spacer." Jonas pulled the trigger, blowing a hole through his head. He sighed and fell backwards on his ass, leaning against the alley wall. He looked at Rex and said "Just on of those days, I guess."

Well that was interesting. Del thought as he finished his second drink and left it on the bar as he pushed himself out of the seat he had managed to occupy. This would be significantly easier if this mando as off his adrenaline, given what had just happened seemed so personal. If he had to kill him it would be very non-beneficial for him, especially when all he wanted was a few answers. While he wasn't particularly concerned about the bounty hunting market seeing as he never actually took bounties he knew that some Mandolorians were trained in wetwork and subterfuge. After all, he himself had been trained by one.

Weaving his way through the now resuming crowd Del was very cautious of making eye contact with anyone. People in places like this were very often regularly looking for a fight, with his demeanor people usually felt like he had something to prove. This made making eye contact in the pit an open invitation for most of the drunkards. Pushing his way through the last few people Del finally came upon the Mandolorian sitting in a chair being handed a bag of bacta strips to fix up his side wound by one of the staff. The general drunkeness of the crowd behind him resumed and the announcer came out to inform everyone that another fight would be taking place soon, seemed like the place ran itself almost. Walking in front of the one who had been called Mar Den, Del folded his arms and said "Mandolorian, we need to talk."

Once Tir finished her dinner, she made her way out of the diner and set off at a leisurely pace towards the nearest junk dealer. It had been interesting to meet another of her own kind after such a long time, particularly one that was not either a businessperson or an assassin. Both of those were common occupations for her species, as they both required a particular type of ruthlessness that came naturally to her kind. Admittedly, her own profession was not far removed from the life of an assassin, but she liked to think that there was much more to herself than just being a simple bounty hunter. As for Dyno, if the views he expressed on his radio program were honest, he might be someone she could trust.

Tir had to spend an hour or so scrounging around between different merchants and junk dealers before she could find a datapad with a compatible screen to her own. It was broken and would not power on, but hopefully, all she really needed was that single part. A broken datapad was not an expensive purchase, so it would not be a great loss if it did not work. After she had what she needed, she made her way back to her speeder, or rather, the speeder she had been using for the past few hours. Strictly speaking, it was not actually hers, but rather that of the Pure she had just killed. It was not as if there were any authorities in 3030 to care about proper registration, so she reasoned she could use it for a while. Even so, she did not fly it back directly to her apartment, instead finding somewhere secluded to land and lock the vehicle about twenty minutes away, by foot. She did not want to risk bringing it too close to her home until she had a chance to check it over for tracking software or equipment.

Tir’s apartment was three floors up from the building’s entrance, and at least in layout, was identical to any of the other living spaces around her. It was small, with but a single room and a refresher, and structurally, was just as run-down as the rest of the building. It’s lights had a tendency to flicker and dim from the building’s somewhat faulty wiring, and the one in the refresher had not worked at all until she had taken it upon herself to fix it. The walls and floor were stained from previous tenants, and her window would not quite close all the way by itself. Her income would actually allow her to rent a higher quality apartment, but she was not someone who wanted to spend her credits on something she did not need.

In contrast to the structure itself, all of Tir’s belongings within the apartment were clean and neatly organized. She had arranged her furniture to give her as much floor space as the small room would allow, and there was scarcely a hint of dirt or grime other than what was stained into the walls. Most of her belongings were organized neatly into labeled containers, though the labels were written in the Tiss’shar language as opposed to Basic.

As soon as Tir stepped into the room and locked the door behind her, she removed her belts and pouches and neatly hung them up on the wall. The only exception was her bandolier, which also served as the sheathe for her sword. For it, she propped it up against the side of her couch, so as to be able to keep it close at hand in an emergency. Once settled, Tir took both datapads and set them down on the floor in the empty space in the center of the room, grabbed a few of her tools from one of the containers, then sat down to begin her work of disassembling them.

Sienn watched the mercenary leave, he had done well keeping up the act of hitting on her. As he disappeared into the crowds of the Pit, the Twi'lek started out of her seat, then a girl approached her, planting a drink in front of her. Sienn rarely got flirtation from her own gender, but then she realized it wasn't flirtation, the girl was a bartender in the place. Her eyes followed the girl, then the drink before the sounds of the fighting cage action drew it. It was a different kind of fight, apparently one that resulted in a new owner being 'crowned'. She didn't really care about the fight, though the specifics might interest some of her Siren friends, they had a deal with the ownership, like some of the other gangs did. Money for space on the property to recruit new blood, while not done openly, it did go down, Sienn had done it herself a few times.

"An old fling, hadn't seen him for some time." Sienn replied, a lie, she wouldn't just outright say he was some freelancer that she was doing business with for her gang. She looked Tanya over, she was a pretty girl, looked a little too young to be serving drinks in such a rough place. Then she put one and two together and hearing the new owner's speech, she was the daughter of the man. No one would hurt the daughter of such a man.

"I hope your father knows what he just got himself. It's a pretty open secret that some of those scummy gangs had deals cut with Gotal. They'll come wanting to speak with the new owner about continuing that practice." Sienn said, her words a sort of warning to the girl. She wouldn't put it past one of the more unpredictable groups, such as the Stars or the Pures to try something more bold, they were always hungry to bully more people, or in the Pures case, do something twisted to push their agenda.

Krenn made it out of Teema's diner after paying up for his meal, feeling bad he couldn't even come close to the tip that the Tir had given her. With the two lizard-like beings going back to their work it was time for him to find some. Absentmindedly he wandered about. He didn’t know where he could apply for flying a freighter down here and was giving some serious deliberation to looking up these ‘Sirens’ the two had mentioned. His strain of thought was interrupted however, this time not by explosions but by blasterfire coming from an alley he had just passed.

He peeked from around the corner to see a Rodian stumbling from the shot just placed there by a human. Krenn saw a number of bodies in the background, but wasn’t sure how many, for his eyes were drawn to the insignia on the Rodians jacket: Something he could only describe as a ‘blackened Star’. The thoughts raced through his head as the human got on top of the Rodian that had tumbled to the ground. Subconsciously one of his lower hands went to the blaster on his hip. Due to his coat only having sleeves for his upper arms, this always went rather covertly. Should Krenn try and apprehend the scoundrel that had just murdered three or more guys in an alley? It should be worth a good buck to these ‘Blackened Suns’. But wasn’t that one of the gangs that he was warned about back at Teema’s?

“I’m not made for this.”

Krenn muttered under his breath as the human let himself collapse into the wall to take a breather, looking at his droid the human said:

“Just one of those days, I guess”

Krenn lifted his upper arms and stepped from his ‘peeking spot’ giving a smile and a cough before stating:

“You’re having one of those as well?”

Mar was busy spraying bacta salve onto his cut, before taking the bacta strip handed to him by a member of staff. He nodded his thanks to the member of staff when he heard someone speaking to him, looking up he saw a weathered and aged looking face looking down at him. Arms crossed in a guard, the face was oddly familiar but he couldn’t quite place it right away.

"Mandolorian, we need to talk."

Mar just sighed. “The names Mar Den, not Mandalorian. Also, I’m not currently available for hire as I just became the owner of this lovely establishment and am already on a job. If you’re looking for a goon to do your dirty work or join your gang I’m sure there are plenty of people around here to satisfy your needs.”

The clone shook his head. “That’s not what you have baatir. I need to know why there are so many mandos on thirty-thirty, you’re the third one I’ve seen in a week. Last week I’d heard rumors of one. It just so happens you all are trained to do the same thing I am, meaning all of you are a threat to my business. Now, I don’t have an issue with you being here, but if you’re staying. Then it’s gonna be an issue. Understand son?” Del knew he was pushing it a bit with that age card he was pulling. But seeing as he looked like he was well into middle age and most people didn’t know about clones aging worse than a bag of duracrete it was usually a safe card for him to play.

Mar looked up, as he pushed the member of staff slightly away so that he could get a clear line of sight at the man standing before him. “Listen here aruetii. I’ve heard of one other Mandalorian, and not seen anymore than that. What I do is my own business, and what you do is yours. As I said, I’m already on a job of a more personal note and that is going to be the only one I’m doing down here. So long as you don’t end up getting in the way of that job, I don’t see why we need to bother each other.”

The guy was old, familiar, and spoke at least a little Mando’a. Then it struck him, Hotshot back home. Or Kain, whatever he was calling himself these days. He had been a clone, he of course knew about the Clone Wars having grown up in the right time period and had dealt with them before but other than Kain they had always had their helmets on. Probably why it took him so long to place the face. Not that it really mattered, why was it people in these places were always so pissy?

“Aruetii odd, seeing as you're the outsider here.” Del growled slightly and rubbed the five-o-clock shadow on his face. It took him second to realize that three mandos was actually two. The one he had seen the other day near Zam’s was the one trying to get the grabbed girl back. The voice was really the only linkage he had, but it was good enough for him to make that jump in logic. Though it stood to reason then that the daughter he had been talking about earlier was the girl that had been grabbed by the Suns. What in the nerf herder were they down here for? Del shook himself out of that line of thought, he couldn’t get invested in these people's lives. Never again.

“Listen, I’ve not been paid to kill you nor do I have any intention to seek such a contract. I would expect you to extend the same courtesy, it would be bad for business for us both. So I will ask again Mar of clan Den, what business do you have here.” Del said in his ever thick clone accent.

“Stop being so literal, if you knew what Aruetii really meant you wouldn’t have tried to call me out on it.” Mar pulled a bag out from under the table, containing the rest of his flight suit and armour. He lifted the shirt over his head and began clipping the individual pieces back onto his armour. One at a time.

“I told you already. I’m not here to take bounties, I’m here looking for one guy who may or may not exist. That’s more than you already need to know, I doubt he’d hire you so it’s all good. We won’t cross paths, and it won’t come to blows anyway. If it makes you feel better low I stick to non-lethal nowadays anyway. The Daughters rather pro llife.” Pulling his glove over his right hand he then picked up his helmet and held it in the cradle of his arm. “So, we done here?”

“I suppose, might want to keep your daughter out of the south burc’ya. The Sun’s are a bit frisky down there.” Del wasn’t necessarily trying to phrase it as a threat but hopefully he at least took the hint that they may well run into each other down there. If it kept him away for a few hours great, if it was for a few days, better. He had a feeling this Siren contract would atleast take a few days, Del just hoped the pay would be worth him being off the market for a few days. While the mando trying to call him out on his meaning was a bit annoying he was certainly not so stupid as to start a fight over an insult.

“Let’s hope your ad pro life view arn’t needed.” Del said as he backed up for a moment then turned on his heel towards the exit. There was no reason for him to remain in this hole for any longer.

Now
Zam’s Brothel, 3030.

Zam watched from her balcony as the Duros bartender wiped down the surface with a wet rag. He had been a pilot once, before the spice addiction, and had fallen on hard times before Zam hired him. It was a risk, perhaps too much of one given his limited experience, but Zam had always been swift to help those in need. She reached out one of her aged blue hands towards a drink that rested atop the ledge and took a greedy mouthful of it. Her nerves had yet to calm from that situation with the Stars an hour ago. From behind her came a knock on her door and the elderly Twi’lek turned to face it. Through the doorway step the Mandalorian she entrusted to keep her brothel safe.

“You asked for me.”

“I did,” Zam said as she gestured to the seat opposite her desk. “Take a seat.”

The Mandalorian stood unmoving as Zam took to her seat. “I’ll stand.”

“Suit yourself.”

The Twi’lek took another mouthful of drink, murmured under her breath with contentment, and then set the glass down with a smile. Her eyes ran over the Mandalorian’s armour as she collected her thought. The deep claw marks across the chest and helmet drew most of her focus but the slight signs of rust along the shins and gauntlets always piqued her interest. She had heard that Mandalorians took great pride in their armour but the one she employed seemed atypical of that reputation. It didn’t matter how he looked so long as he kept her brothel safe. He showed earlier that he was still capable of doing that.

“I was impressed with the way you handled those Blackened Stars. You could have lost your cool or risen to that Rodian’s insults but you stayed calm. I appreciate that. This place is very precious to me. It’s very precious to all of them.”

Zam’s icy blue eyes seemed to grow misty with nostalgia as she spoke. After a few moments Zam recalled why she had invited the Mandalorian up to her quarters and smiled in the warrior’s direction. Her smile was met with a cold, empty stare that the Twi’lek did not seem discouraged by.

“Do you know how this brothel came into my possession, Mandalorian?”

The Mandalorian shook his head. The movement was so slight it was barely noticeable. There was an austerity to the armoured man’s movements. He seemed to move only as much as he needed to and he spoke even less.

“Many years ago I worked here. I say worked but I didn’t have much choice. I was brought here by slavers and sold to the brothel’s previous owners. Believe it or not they were nice enough. At the end of each year they would allow each whore a fraction of the credits they had earned. You might not believe it to look at me now but once I was a very beautiful woman, Mandalorian. I had many suitors, and many, many more clients, and at the end of each year I would more credits than any of the other women. Yet it was still not enough to buy my freedom. Not by a very long shot. That would take many years of hard work. Long after my body grew wrinkled and the suitors became fewer and further between I toiled in the hope of earning my freedom. Though I had known nothing but servitude I yearned for a life where my flesh could be my own.”

The elderly Twi’lek paused for a moment to take another mouthful of drink. Once she swallowed she looked to the Mandalorian with a weary smile.

“It took twenty-eight years.”

Even as she spoke there seemed a surprise to Zam’s voice. She knew she had lived those twenty-eight years but the memories seemed so distant, so remote, that it felt as if they had happened to someone else.

“What do you think I did with my freedom? Where do you think I went, Mandalorian? Where would you go?”

A word crept from behind the Mandalorian’s mask. For once the Mandalorian’s voice sounded like it carried something resembling emotion.

“Home,” it spoke.

“As good a guess as any,” Zam said with a wry smile. “I was plucked from my family at such a young age I could barely remember my own name. This place was the only home I’ve ever known. The women I laid next to every night, whose wounds I tended to, and tears I dried were the only family I belonged to. It might sound... strange but leaving this place was never an option. Even as the other women begged me to leave I took to working once more, this time as a free woman, and though my body could barely take it I finally managed to save enough to buy the brothel outright. That took thirteen more years.”

A contented smile appeared on Zam's face and she stood up from her seat, drink in hand, and made her way back towards the balcony that overlooked the brothel. Her long black robe hung behind her as she walked. It covered a body that had no right to have retained the shape and form it did at Zam's age. The Mandalorian stood in place, arms crossed, and watched as Zam gestured to the brothel around them.

"Forty-one years of service, forty-one years of men and women travelling across the galaxy to fawn over me, to claw at my skin, to make me bite, kiss, and suck as and what they comanded, and finally I was a free woman. A truly free woman. Do you know what it is to be truly free, Mandalorian?"

There seemed a hint of recognition in the bounty hunter for a moment and his arms uncrossed, falling loosely by his sides, as he considered Zam's words.

*****

Then
Quadrant Six, Ganthel

On the floor of a cell in Quadrant Six’s Justiciar Department was Alec Vendrell. The scent of alcohol radiated from him so strongly it could be smelled several cells down. His clothes were ripped and stained with alcohol and there were several bruises along his face from the night before. Alec had been out on the town again and for the third time in as many weeks had been on the wrong side of a beating. It wasn’t the kind of behaviour that was expected from a Vendrell on Ganthel. They were the closest thing the little industrial planet had to a first family given their history on the docks. As soon as the Vendrell men were of age they went to work on the docks and once they were past thirty-five most went to work in the union. Alec’s father was Esvan Vandrell. “Van the Man” as he was lovingly referred to along the docks. He was head of the largest union in the Quadrant and one the most powerful men several Quadrants over. As such Alec’s scrapes with the Justiciars were a cause of constant embarrassment for his father and the latest one would no doubt cause Alec’s father another headache.

For the time being though Alec was more concerned about his own headache. To the sound of shouting his bloodshot eyes opened wearily and he winced as the pounding in his head intensified by the second. The sharp intake of light hadn’t helped. From behind him he heard the voice shouting once more and Vendrell realised it was directed at him.

“Wake the hell up you lazy sack of bantha fodder.”

Vendrell pushed himself up and looked towards the man stood at the gate of his cell. The man was a wall of muscle, clad in the grey and blue Justiciar uniform that Vendrell had come to loathe over the past six months, and the twisted, cruel mouth that stuck out from the bottom of his helm was familiar to Alec. Justiciar Dorn he remembered as he pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to fight back his headache.

“Looks like daddy has pulled a few strings for you again, Vendrell.” Dorn muttered as he unlocked the door to Alec’s cell. “You’re free to go this time.”

The sound of the door clanging open made Alec’s already throbbing head throb a little more but he refused Dorn the pleasure of seeing his discomfort. Instead he climbed to his feet with the wall as his support and wandered out of the cell that had been his home for the night. He picked up his things from lockup and made his way towards the exit only to find another familiar face waiting for him on the other side of it.

“Kass?” Alec muttered in a pained voice. “What are you doing here?”

Alec’s sister let out a sigh and shrugged her shoulders. “What do you think I’m doing here? Dad said if you got in trouble with the Justiciar’s again he’d kick you out. As much as you might get on my nerves sometimes I don’t want you on the street.”

Alec smiled and pulled his sister close to him. He was oblivious to his sister’s pained expression throughout their embrace. He smelled like a brewery and there was still dried blood along his chin. The Vendrells weren’t a touchy-feely family at the best of times and hugging definitely wasn’t in their nature.

He let Kass go and looked at her with a warm, appreciative smile. “Thank you.”

Brother and sister walked alongside in silence for a few moments before Kass conjured up the courage to tell Alec what she had promised herself she would tell her him. The two spoke little at home, Alec was almost a decade her senior and their paths rarely crossed but for family occasions, but it was clear from their body language that Kass was the more mature and considered of the two. It was why the words that came next carried such weight.

“This has to stop,” Kass muttered. “You know that, right?”

Alec nodded gravely in acceptance. “What am I supposed to do, though? Go work on the docks like dad and the rest of those meatheads? I’d sooner die than do that.”

He was twenty-three years of age, seven years passed the usual age of taking work at the docks, and had never worked a day in his life. It had caused more than its fair share of arguments in the Vendrell household but up until now Alec had refused to relent. He didn’t want to be another inconsequential Vendrell that was born in Quadrant Six, worked the docks in Quadrant Six, and died in Quadrant Six. He wanted more than that. Trouble was that on Ganthel that’s all there was.

Kass let out a sympathetic sigh as she tried to hail down a transporter pod.

“Yeah, well, at the rate you’re going at you’ll have your wish before the month’s out, big brother.”

*****

Now
3030, Zam’s Brothel

The Mandalorian snapped back into awareness as the haze of memories passed. All thoughts of Kass, his father, or Justiciar Dorn left his mind and his eyes fixed on the elderly Twi’lek stood peering over the brothel’s balcony at the revelers below them. The Mandalorian strode out to the balcony to stand beside his employer one more.

“Why are you telling me all of this, Zam?”

Zam extended her hand to young Mon Calamari stood sheepishly in the corner of the room beneath them. “You are fond of Ki.”

The Mandalorian was fond of Ki Hobro. Or more Alec Vendrell was fond of Ki Hobro. He thought he had hidden that fact from sight but the Mandalorian supposed the elderly Twi’lek had spent a lifetime in places like these. She knew affection, true affection, when she was it. It wasn’t a romantic love he felt for Ki but the opposite. Though she looked and sounded nothing like his sister Kass there was something about her nature that reminded Alec of Kass Vandrell whenever he was in Ki’s presence. All the same he gritted his teeth beneath his battered helmet and shook his head curtly.

“No more than the rest.”

A wry, knowing smile appeared on Zam’s blue lips.

“If only you were as good at lying as you are with those blasters.”

“She was an orphan when she arrived in Coruscant. It is a dangerous thing to be in a place like 3030. One only realizes how important friends and family are when they find themselves without them. A young girl without someone to look out for her is a target out there. Ki was a target.”

Beneath them Ki gossiped with J’asta and the two shared a laugh with one another before the Mon Calamari took to the bar and started up conversation with the Duros that worked it.

“Before I bought her freedom Ki worked for Gorro,” Zam sighed as she took another mouthful of her drink. “The Scarred Hutts passed her around like a piece of meat, forced her to take spice, and took pleasure in her humiliation. Had I not found her I am sure she would have died. If not at the hands of one of Gorro’s men then from a bad batch of spice. Yet here she is free. She can come and go as she pleases, ply her trade without fear of injury or abuse, and earn a decent living. She can save for the starship she dreams for and maybe one day she will see the Outer Rim. Maybe all of them will fulfill their dreams.”

There was love in the elderly Twi’lek’s eyes. A maternal love that the Mandalorian had seen nowhere else in 3030. Coruscant’s underbelly was dark and sickly to the touch. It consumed and exploited people and then spat them out once it was done with them. Zam’s was an oasis from all of that. The Mandalorian thought of Ki in the hands of the Scarred Hutts or the Blackened Stars. He thought of his own sister in their possession.

“I lost forty years of my life before I found freedom, Mandalorian, and this brothel is a mural to that sacrifice. It is the only brothel of its kind in all of Courscant – a safe haven for the weak and vulnerable, those without friends and family, who see no other way out than to sell their flesh. You will find no slave within these walls. Only free men and women.”

Zam took one last mouthful and then upturned the vessel and placed it atop the balcony with a contented smile. She looked to the Mandalorian with her soft eyes and the Mandalorian felt them probing and searching beyond his visor for some sign of reciprocation.

“Do you understand now why we must protect this place? This place is so much more to a brothel, Mandalorian.”

The Mandalorian nodded.

“I understand.”

Beneath his gauntlets Alec felt his hands growing sweaty as the magnitude of his task dawned on him. Not once had he felt guilty for taking Zam's money before but now he did. When he had taken the job this place had meant nothing to him, there hundreds of brothels in 3030 after all, but now he understood this place meant more to Zam than anything had ever meant to him in his life. He pictured a future without Zam's Brothel. He tried to imagine where girls like Ki might go or whose employ they might be forced into. Most of all he pictured a day when his skills would be called upon and he would be found lacking.

And for some reason he had a feeling that day was coming soon.

‘You’re having one of those as well?”

Krenn had barely muttered the words to the stranger in the alley when their meaning was reinforced by the sound of running boots and a loud ‘Hey!’

When the Besalisk looked over his shoulder to see who the voice and boots belonged to he saw 3, what he could only describe as, thugs approach. Blackened Star insignia on various places alarmed Krenn, he knew what it would look like if they would see the massacre in the alley.

‘Where’s R- ‘

Krenn started running right that instant, making for the next alley as blasterfire hit the wall beside him.

“What the kark, he shot them all up, holo Xental! Stop that fat fuck!”
Krenn could make that much out as he positioned himself behind a dumpster with a slide, pulling his 2 visible blasters with his upper hands, aiming for the opening of the alley.

“Why did I have to check on the bloke-“

He let fly a flurry of bolts towards the opening of the alley as one was taking a quick look. Judging by the shout Krenn had managed to graze a shoulder, but now they were putting blind shots into the wall and dumpster.

“he murdered a load of them and I went to say-“

One tried to make for the other side of the alley as Krenn fired a flurry of shots, hitting him various times while the gang member went down.

“Hello.”

Krenn shot another two bolts as he made for the far end of the alley, lower hands pushing himself away from the walls as he went. Content with his shooting, and lightly over-confident he managed to shout:

“Now I know where you got the ‘Blackened’ part from!”

Indistinct shouting followed, and more worryingly, blasterfire impacting nearby, luckily Krenn could just round the corner, running for what he had left. With a few turns he had seemingly lost his follower and his breath. Leaning against a small public holo-terminal to keep himself standing he tried to make sense of the commercial lighted blur that were his surroundings.

‘The Pit’

Read one of the holo-signs, and seemingly it was the only ‘public’ building nearby. Here at least Krenn could get lost in a crowd, presuming there was one… He took a few more moments to catch his breath and see if he had a clear walk to the entrance, when he had made sure he hauled himself over to the being standing guard who gave him the usual talk and let him trough.

Indeed there was a crowd, and a pit for that matter. Getting somewhere out of sight was now his priority, preferably a place where he could still see the entrance and scout for these ‘Blackened Stars’. He hadn’t found the spot yet when two of the gangmembers entered. Their eyes scanning the crowd.

“Kark”

Krenn immediately lowered his posture, trying to blend in even more than he had, giving him an odd hunch, but atleast he wasn’t towering above some others anymore. He halted a passing employee with a full tray of empty glasses with a quick wave.

“Hey, were do you enter the pits here? Owner around?”

To his emberasment the female Human employee started laughing. But while expecting a mocking: ’you want to enter the pits?’ the girl responded with:

“Should be out back, apply there.”

Krenn nodded, only to start making his way towards where the girl had pointed, frantically looking over his shoulder, hoping to have avoided their gaze.

Tanya let loose a chuckle. "Yeah, he knows what he's doing. We've been all over the outer-rim and in mud puddles far worse than 3030. Besides if everything goes according to plan we shouldn't be here that long anyway. In and out kinda job-" She stretched out her hand as if pointing toward the stars. "-Though of course now we'll have to figure out what we're going to do with the Pit once we leave. I don't see us leaving it in the hands of someone like Gurak...-" She looked at the Twi'lek, shaking her head a little before standing up.

"I'm sorry, I'm rambling a little bit. You must have one of those faces y'know? Trustworthy. Or at least one that makes me want to tell you too much about me at the least." She smiled before standing up again. "Anything else I can help you with?"



Mar just chuckled to himself as the old Clone left. The pro-life view was always a very strange one to have in Mandalorian Culture. Though it wasn't necessary the wrong way. The code was all about honour and victory, nothing said that victory meant that the opposing party had to die. He shrugged it off as he walked into what was now his office, sitting behind the desk after placing his helmet infront of him and stretching his legs. He'd need to figure out what his next move was.

He sure as hell didn't want to be micromanaging this junk-heap all the time.