The Vertical City, Nar Shaddaa. They call it the Smuggler's Moon—an apt description based on the myriad of sentients shuffling back and forth with their illegal wares and hidden weapons. The narrow streets below criss-cross endlessly, soaring miles above the planet's surface. Exposed and uncovered, the streets offer a nearly perfect setting for someone with some skills with ranged weapons. From a vantage point on the ledge of a towering structure of glass and steel offers a dizzying view of the cityscape.

Simple shops and merchants peddle both legitimate and illegitimate wares. Storefronts are just as plentiful as open-market pop-up tents, and the cantina's adapt the same lowlife air as the rest of the Smuggler's Moon. Enemies could be hidden in plain sight, whether one of the Hutts’ gangsters or mercenaries-for-hire looking to earn some credits. The streets are plagued with violent gangs and the general riff raff of the poor and destitute. The streets may be an ideal place for blasters, but the winding streets are difficult to disappear from. An opponent would be easily boxed in and simple to finish with a few quick slashes of a lightsaber. The moon is dangerous—even for one gifted in the Force.

Outer Rim Territories

Nar Shaddaa

Street on Nar Shaddaa

A bustling street is often considered a hassle for those looking to get somewhere in a hurry. For those of a more nefarious purpose, it can be a veil to cover their plots and dealings from prying eyes. Such is the norm for a cycle on Nar Shaddaa and its snaking paths. The overwhelming glare of cantina neon signs beckoning at the corner of each bend do their best to draw the seething masses inside. They are mostly successful; most did not come to the parts of town like this to simply walk the streets. There were some who preferred to complete their business outside of the dives, where the viscous throng provided ample sound to cover any of the louder confrontations, and Wolfe was quite aware that he had been led to such a situation now. The fact that he had been led to the connecting alley of the dive he’d been refreshing himself at said as much. The Odanite might have been relatively new to embracing his place within the Force’s circle, but he was not so naíve as to be played the fool so easily. He cautiously watched the fidgeting Trandoshan that was leading him into the dark recesses of the alley. The hunter had clearly been targeting Wolfe for some time since his arrival in The Bottled Bothan, but had eventually walked up and claimed there was someone who wanted to meet Wolfe. Confident in his training, and a bit curious about who would want to meet him here, the acolyte had begrudgingly left his drink to follow the hunter, who, while armed, had not made his request with blaster in hand. The Trandoshan’s traditional armor could mean it was a mercenary, but who would hire a professional hunter like this reptile to target an acolyte? Surely the Collective wasn’t still trying to struggle after their defeat by the Brotherhood. Targeting apprentices would only get them so far, in any case. Intrigued by this train of thought, Wolfe decided to take control of the situation and stopped where he was. Peeking behind him to make sure the street was still in view, the acolyte called out upon turning back.

“Hold, mercenary.”

The Trandoshan stopped and gave a nervous glance around the alley, practically confirming Wolfe’s suspicion. The acolyte’s probing gaze picked out nothing among the piles of trash piled high against the walls, but something about the atmosphere made him aware that they were not the only two present anymore.

“I’ve let you play your little game, so why don’t you tell me just who I am supposed to be meeting…” His right hand rested upon a blaster hanging at his hip. “...And what they want from me?”

Whereas earlier he had gotten the feeling that there might be others present, the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly confirmed that someone was here. Not only here, but behind him. Spinning around brought Wolfe face to face with the source. Except there was no face. There was no one, just a soft breeze that brushed his tan cheeks. Confused, the acolyte turned back lest the Trandoshan be provided an easy target in his exposed back.

“What is this, mercenary? What do you want?”

With his eyes focused on a single point they picked up a flicker of movement to his left side. He couldn’t quite make out any specific shapes in the formless shadows criss-crossing both walls, but the space next to the hunter appeared to be...shimmering? The Trandoshan had noticed the disturbance as well, but instead of finding it a curiosity the hunter bowed its head in deference. Having paid its dutiful respects, the reptile turned to Wolfe and finally spoke.

“The massster will ssspeak.”

Before the acolyte could respond, the shimmering in the air opened itself up. As the translucent veil dissipated, it revealed the figure of a Zabrak in dark attire with a flowing cloak wrapping most of his body. Though the figure wore a concealing hood, his red hands showed at the edge of his sleeves and the hood itself bore indentions where horns tried to surface. The weight of his gaze fell upon Wolfe. His speech was rough and emitted as deep growls, more akin to a beast than an intelligent being.

“I thought I made it clear that I wanted Jedi, Kar’ssaret.”

The Zabrak’s tone remained neutral, but the wilt in the mercenary’s stance told Wolfe that it had failed in some regard. The mention of Jedi caught his attention especially, but he held his tongue in order to see what more there was to this story.

“Isss thisss not a Jedi? I sssaw its lightsssaber while it drank and it did not appear to be like those of the massster’s clan.”

The Zabrak stepped closer, letting some of the streetlight illuminate his face. Jagged black tattoos covered his naturally crimson skin, and his eyes were highlighted by the bright orange that coiled around his pupils. He stood a few inches taller than Wolfe, but pound for pound the acolyte figured he could match him if this turned as violent as he was beginning to feel it might. He raised his head slightly and watched as the Zabrak took a long pull of the night air into his nostrils before turning towards the Trandoshan.

“He doesn’t smell like a Jedi...” The Zabrak began a path around Wolfe, appraising him. “...but Odan-Ur has become a melting pot of sorts over these few years. Not that I would expect the Trandoshan Saraask’ar guild to know that.”

The name of his clan falling from this Zabrak’s lips caught Wolfe somewhat off guard and his face twitched. If this person--another mercenary, perhaps?--knew about Odan-Ur, than they must be affiliated with the Brotherhood to some degree. Some agent of one of the dark clans by the look of him, he wagered. A probe into the Force told him as much, revealing a swirling darkness within the Zabrak. Activity of this sort might be useful to his master and the Consul of Odan-Ur, Alethia. He decided it was time to go. Edging a step closer to the alley’s entrance and in-witness-range area, Wolfe unholstered his right blaster and placed it between him and the Zabrak. The Trandoshan made to arm himself, but the Zabrak threw out a hand to stop him. Thinking this was a sign of caution, Wolfe took another step. The tattooed warrior shrugged off his cloak, revealing a mixture of weaponry at his sides and back. There was an amused glint in his eye that matched the sheen sparkling off of his exposed zhaboka blades. As if one’s hunger was connected to the other.

“We are not finished, Odanite. Do not think I missed your little reaction to your clan’s name. Whether or not you are Jedi, I believe my Dreadlord would enjoy rooting around in your head for whatever secrets might reside there. If you are Jedi after all…” His lips curved into a snarling grin.

“...Then I will enjoy breaking you.”

Deciding to forego a steady retreat, Wolfe instead drew his second blaster and began peppering the alley way with bolts while he backed away. The Zabrak was quick, however, and he darted from one side to the other in a zigzagging fashion. Wolfe knew that at least one of the bolts should have made contact, but the Zabrak did not slow. Before Wolfe could focus and unleash a second volley, the warrior was upon him. With his arms raised and occupied by his blasters, the acolyte’s stomach was exposed to attack. Instead of slicing with one of his ryyk blades, however, the Zabrak ducked while coiling his right arm and struck out with an uppercut. The blow lifted Wolfe off of his feet and forced the wind from his lungs when he crashed to the ground.

The Zabrak huffed in disappointment.

“Get up, Odanite. Surely the First clan can offer better than this? I would have entertainment before I drag you before the Dread Lord.”

With a look of intense hunger, the Zabrak bore down on Wolfe. The acolyte was not going to count himself out just yet, however. No, he had a few tricks of his own.

The force of the Zabrak bore down on the Odanite and ignited an ember within his basalt eyes, the smoldering flame of which pushed him ever onward as the Sith before him brought forth memories of his first master. His palms pressed the cold pavement as he rolled himself off of the ground and resolved eyes met those of the predator before him. The very thought of being drug before another being and used for entertainment riled Wolfe to the core.

Years of being such an experiment came back to the Grey Jedi and one of his blasters nestled into their holsters, the other trained on the warrior as he unleashed a metered barrage of bolts into the Zabrak's chest. Wolfe kept a steady gaze upon the Sith with each volley, never breaking eye contact. Their eyes were as stark in their differences as their ideologies. The twisted crimson and orange of the Sith Warrior and the cold slate of the Jedi Acolyte, and as they stared into each other's eyes the human took a measure of his foe and the air around them began to tighten. Wolfe's physical form retreated back into his cloak with the exception of a single arm extended outward, which lobbed the bolts with an annoying frequency.

"There is more of what I wanted to see, Odanite. Struggle, fight back, strive for survival. Your failure will only make my achievement greater." Kul'tak jeered from the alley as another burst from the blaster dispersed before his frame.

The coronal ring of energy dissipated and the Jedi had gone from sight, which left Kul'tak and his minion alone.

"Run, hide, these streets will only hide your kind for so long. I'm coming for you Odanite. And I will find you." He called out before he looked back to the Trandoshan with a snarl on his lips that soon turned into a half-twisted smile.

"A Jedi he may not be, but a worthwhile hunt, nonetheless... Leave us, I will enjoy teasing the last moments of hope out of him." Kul'tak ordered, half caught between a snarl and a whisper as he mused at the weakening sensation of the Jedi.

Kul'tak took a moment to focus and soon realized it wasn't the Jedi alone that he no longer felt. He reached tepidly out to the Force, prepared for the overwhelming flow of sensations, only to meet with whispers at best and emptiness at the worst of moments. He cursed under his breath and stared out into the crowded market street the Jedi had used to escape. Human faces blended throughout the market, making all that much harder to distinguish initially.

Wolfe clenched his left fist and with the other hand secured his blaster. He focused on the Sith while he retreated and mixed into the crowd, hidden among others of his own species. He had gambled on how much of the Force he could stave off from his opponent, but even the slightest damper would prove a hindrance in such a theatre as this. Anything that tilted the board in his favor now was sure to forestall the Sith, if not anger him and his insistence earlier on using others to do his work and toying with him had told the acolyte one thing. He demanded control. The Jedi was also quick to piece together the fragments of what he witnessed. Kul'tak's subordinate had failed him but wasn't made an example of,.which meant either they were loyal or well paid and the Trandoshan's reaction spoke to the prior and not the latter.

His opponent didn't lack for weapons either, with at least two weapons on his back that he couldn't make out in the first flurry and a dual blade that rested across his spine.The lightsaber was easiest to spot, next to the Plageius insignia upon his belt. Wolfe took quick stock of his own inventory, sighed, and drifted further in the crowd, keeping his focus on the Plageian while tightening his grip on the Force, annoyance growing that a gift given to him by his Sith Master was often one of his greatest gifts in fighting them during this war and the fallout.

“We’re merely different sides of the same coin, you and I.” He whispered to himself as he watched the alleyway.

While Kul enjoyed the promise of a hunt, the cowardice of the human touched his nerves to some degree. There was a beauty and peace to stalking one’s prey and the Zabrak considered himself something of a connoisseur on the subject, but even above that he followed a self-imposed code of fighting as long as possible. Plagueis had no room for weakness and fleeing from battle was something even a regular Zabrak warrior would never consider so flippantly. Regardless of how he might feel personally, though, the fact of the matter was that he was going to have to find this human.

In a karking sea of them.

Kul’s shoulders slumped slightly and he expelled air through a deep suspiration. Detection had never been his strong suit, his skills more dedicated to infiltration and elimination due to his aggressive master’s teachings. He scanned the river of multicolored flesh in the hopes of picking out a possible detail. He did not place much hope in the action, nor should he have since all it did was cause the horde to appear as a flowing blur. Clearly he would not track his prey through sight alone, but the Sith had hunted other Force users before. The human’s choice to flee rather than take control and dominate the flow of the fight had spoken more to Kul than any admittance ever could. Words could be spoken with lying tongues, but the actions of a man were harder to tame. The Jedi had revealed himself, and so now Kul had the means to grasp the man’s throat. All that was necessary now was to tighten it and watch him rasp in agony.

The Zabrak moved further out of the alley while remaining at the edge of the throng so that someone who might be watching for him would see. The shadows cast by the looming infrastructure gave him enough cover to not be so obvious, but were pierced by just enough rays of light to reflect off the shiny metal case he pulled out from his waist. Rolling the cylinder object over revealed a small screen and a thumb-sized button painted bright red. Kul gave a slow glance across the top of the crowd.

“Make your choice, Jedi. Flee and listen to the death screams rise behind you...or ascend and find yourself a worthy opponent after all.”

Kul pressed the red button and tossed the thermal imploder into the air. It’s arc would place it right into the middle of the street and the thickest portion of the crowding civilians. A few nearby bystanders noticed the Zabrak’s movement and gazed up to see what he had flung, but his own gaze was focused on the other side of the street. Waiting for the moment he knew would arrive.

Wolfe had managed to make it across to the opposite walkway in good time while maintaining what he hoped was not a conspicuous journey through the crowd. Fortunately, the Zabrak’s taller stature had made it slightly easier to keep tabs on him out of the corner of his eye, as well. It bothered Wolfe that his opponent was not making to follow, however. As passionate as the Sith seemed about fighting, he was being suspiciously cautious in regards to pursuing the fight. The human turned his full gaze on the Zabrak, just in time to catch a sparkle of metal as it was flung several meters in the air above the street. Wolfe’s eyes widened as something in his mind commanded his muscles to activate and his right hand snapped to his blaster, where he’d holstered it to lower suspicion of the civilians he’d passed. His mind caught up enough to tell the rest of him what the situation was. An explosive! The Jedi cursed his rotten luck. He had hoped the Sith’s choice to hide in the alley had meant a preference to not draw attention, but it seemed Wolfe had underestimated the hunter’s hunger for victory.

The only option left now was to take the shot. Wolfe brought his blaster to bear and focused as hard as he could. He felt the Force rush into his eyes as he willed his vision to amplify and enhance, but it did not stop his hand from shaking slightly. He squeezed the trigger a total of three times, and three bolts of plasma went careening off into the night sky before burning into the side of a towering casino. The surprised screams of those who saw the man running with a blaster were soon washed away beneath the cacophony that soon followed. The imploder sucked in a wave of air and fire from its first detonation, before pausing a brief moment that felt like multiple.

Kul was genuinely surprised. He had expected the Jedi to make the shot, thus saving the civilians but giving away his position. As the second explosion ripped into the panicked mob, he felt an amused smile play across his lips. Using such extreme measures were not his favorite tactic by far, but this turn of events carried a victory of its own. Quite pleased with himself, the Zabrak shrouded his body once more in an invisible veil and headed back into the alley behind him. His Trandoshan companion was waiting nervously at the end of it and hurriedly moved to his side as he removed the cloak and clapped his hands together.

“Well, Kar’ssaret, I’d say that’s job well done.”

The mercenary gave the Zabrak a confused look.

“But the massster hasss not returned with the Jedi?”

Kul nodded understandably while he retrieved his physical cloak from the alley floor and dusted it off.

“Indeed. There is more than one way to break a Jedi, and the Jedi has done it on their own. The guilt will eat at him now. Enough that he should begin to question his Jedi teachings. I can be satisfied with that outcome. What better way to destroy the Jedi than from within? It worked once, after all.”

The Saraask’ar mercenary contemplated the words, but did not understand the reference. Instead of mentioning that and possibly earning the ire of the Sith, he merely nodded. Kul fastened his cloak and threw the hood over his horns and face. In the pause of their conversation the wailing of victims and the shrill call of sirens could be heard echoing off the alley walls. The Zabrak tightened the hood around his ears and began leading the Trandoshan through a connecting alley that was hidden by a large trash compactor, which he had used to arrive prior the meeting. His face was grim now, and he tried to place the sight of the strewn--civilian--bodies aside. It was a regrettable outcome in some ways, though necessary.

He shook his head and tried to remove the thought.

Plagueis had no room for weakness.

Kul'tak exited the alleyway with the confidence of a man on a mission, his opponent had readied himself for the fight and the Zabrak felt the chill wind and lack of Force surrounding him when he reached out for the Jedi once more. An intractable will forced both men forward at this point, beyond the need to survive or the desire to hunt, now they desired to surmount one another. The assassin believed himself much crueler as he strode into the crowd. Both men adapted to their surroundings here, one another of a countless, incessant species that counted on innumerable and the Plaguian touched his hand to his face and stroked down his cheek while his features gently shifted until he mirrored another Zabrak he had met years prior.

Wolfe made note of the Sith's movements and made a to cross paths in the opposite direction, sure to keep the distance between them wide. His eyes widened as he watched the face of the Zabrak shift into that of another, and the momentary gaze was all it took for his opponent to find him. The opposing male ignited his saber and set upon him before he could respond initially. Wolfe stepped back on his off-foot and ducked beneath his opponent's blade with an uncanny speed before he threw himself across the market street, dropping an adhesive grenade at the Zabrak's feet. Wolfe would land in another stall with a throng of bystanders scattered around him, two attempted to help the Jedi to his feet.

Kul'tak swiped at the grenade, it ignited but cut the dense cloud down into nothingness in the same swipe. The damned Jedi was still interfering with his ability to call on the Force, even while throwing himself around the field. The guise fell from the Sith as he marched at the Jedi, a nuisance to maintain at this point, a marked sneer painted on his lips as he cut down one of the Samaritans that had come to the Jedi's aid. He belonged above these people and the Jedi they aided far below them. Yet, an unexpected light.

Wolfe burst forth, all of his anger and his frustration seemingly voided and the Jedi rushed. His left hand held a blaster which a close-range rapport of bolts while his right drew his saber and slashed across the legs of the Sith and knocked him to his knees.