Anakin once visited Coruscant’s underbelly, as an escort for Supreme Chancellor Palpatine’s secret visit. Festering within the 2685th level of Coruscant, it is a feeding ground to the best and worst criminals—bureaucrats among them. Slaves and contraband are bought and sold on the hour, while others gamble with their lives or ill-gotten gains on the roll of a chance cube.

Others are content to seek entertainment, watching holographic projections of exotic dancers in various states of undress—the likes of which will no doubt be traded as slaves in exchange for credits or other services. Games of chance are often obscured under the sheer volume of patrons gathered around the game tables. Smaller round tables serve for social or business gatherings, with more discreet booths tucked into alcoves along the walls.

Having undergone unfinished renovations at some point, the ceiling has been raised to resemble that of a warehouse. Smoke gathers among the durasteel supports, making a buffer for the intense red and violet beams lighting the cesspit below. Zeltron perfumes are among the most common smells in the establishment, while the rolling of dice cubes make for the most recognizable sound above the music. Fights don’t often break out, and violence is often dissuaded at the sight of armoured bouncers several heads taller than most humanoids

Sweet spiced scents perfumed the air of Club Kasakar as a figure garbed in full black dress weaved through the substandard populace. The sounds of dice rolling across tables and glasses clinking against hard surfaces filled the room almost deafened the music playing in the background. Beams of multicolored laser-lights cut into the smoke-filled air, reflecting their brilliance off of the denser clouds.

The figure scanned the area around himself, attempting to pick up a feeling of the Ryn he had been sent to collect. While not many of the club’s denizens had a strong connection to the Force, there was enough collective Force connection to cause interference and make this task an annoyance. Finally, after several passes through the establishment, he located the correct Force signature. In the back, reclining in a secluded private section, the grey-furred Ryn laid in a heap, garbed only in a soiled pair of undergarments. The stench coming off of the nearly naked male was overpowering the perfume infused air around them.

“Shadowlord Kordath Bleu, I am here to return you to Selen.” The voice of the blacked garbed man was distorted by an electronic voice changer he’d placed within his helmet.

The Ryn was unresponsive to his announcement, only releasing a quiet snore. He was passed out, his left hand tightly clenching a glass bottle filled with alcohol. Annoyed, the man took a few steps forward and nudged the sleeping Ryn, with no success. He took a moment to scan the area around him, noticing a bucket of ice sitting on the nearby bar. Extending his right arm out and opening his hand, he willed the Force to move the bucket through the air toward him. After taking hold of the metal container he dumped the ice onto the Ryn’s head.

“Mother kark! What th'hell! That's fricken cold,” Kordath drunkenly shouted at being awakened so rudely.

“Shadowlord Kordath Bleu, I have been sent to collect you and return you to Selen,” the man once again said through his voice changer.

As the dark figure spoke, Kordath was busy shakily brushing the melting ice off of his exposed body and his covered anatomy. The Ryn then took a long swig from the bottle he still fervently clenching.

“Fraken hell, cannae ye see a'm stowed 'ere? A'm needin' a break from a' that bureaucratic sithspit.” The Ryn waved him off as he grabbed a nearby datapad and hit a few buttons on the screen. Soon enough the image of a scantily clad female Ryn appeared, dancing on the table. The black-clad figure noticed that this dancer bore a striking resemblance to the one responsible for sending him to procure Arcona’s Consul. Feeling a tinge of anger for the blatant disrespect he felt Kord was showing his current ex, the hired hand took out a pair of stun cuffs and walked around the table to take his intended target.

“Regardless of what you want right now, you have an obligation to the Clan, and I’ve been requested to ensure that you fulfill that obligation. Now let's go.”

Not taking his target seriously, he reached out for Kord’s arm only to have the drunken Ryn stumble away from his seat.

“Enough o' this, ye dolt. As Consul ah order ya ta sod off. Ah will come back when a'm good 'n' done.”

Ignoring the Consul’s order, the dark figure moved forward to grab the Ryn, and felt the Force warn him of coming danger before a glass bottle smashed against the side of his helmet. Alcohol coated the visor of the helmet distorting his visibility. Even though the hard surface, the blow hurt. Disoriented and surprised, he removed the helmet and looked the Ryn in the eyes.

“Ye, yer that laddie Zuji found half-dead, ain't ye? Aiden, right?” Kord asked with a slur in his voice. “Ye just made me lose mah whiskey. Zuji's friend or nae, ah oughtta teach ye some manners.” As Kordath slurred his words, his eyes glazed over, and he dropped the broken whiskey bottle onto the table.

Aiden’s eyes adjusted to the light without his visor. He took a moment to regain focus. Zuji asked him not to hurt Kord, but it had been some time since his last fight. And he felt that tingle of lust for battle in his chest that needed to be sated. Centering himself and giving a slight grin, he focused for a moment. Drawing the Force to his side, he felt his muscles being strengthened.

Aiden lashed out with his right arm using a swift open-handed palm thrust, hoping to take the Ryn by surprise. Kord simply bent backward, grabbing Aiden’s arm and pulling the human down. The drunken Consul planted his foot into the Gray Jedi’s gut and pushed him away.

Surprise etched across Aiden’s face. He was shocked by how seamlessly the inebriated Consul countered him. He watched as Kordath wobbled to his feet and swayed, facing away from him. The back of his undergarments looked like they needed a good cleaning, and the hole where his tail stuck through was somewhat frayed.

“I guess it’s time to play dirty,” the Gray Jedi thought to himself.

Aiden quickly reached over, grabbed hold of Kordath’s underwear and pulled hard before releasing them. A loud snap could be heard as the material impacted the Ryn’s backside, resulting in a loud yelp from the Consul.

“Fraking hell, ya nit. Touching another guy's skids is kinda wrong, dinnae ye think?”

Aiden stood up, smiling. He was going to enjoy this.

Through his drunken haze, Bleu took in the sight of his most recent bloody keeper grinning right after trying to take his underwear.

Great, he’s a bleedin’ pervert, tryin’ ta snag me drawers and tha like. Joke’s on him, tha only reason I’m even sportin’ these still is cause they’d throw me out otherwise!

“Now then, Lord Bleu, will you be coming back to Selen willingly or in cuffs?”

“Kinky bastard ain’t ya,” grumbled Kord, stepping back from the couch and holotable, trying not to be distracted by the image of swaying hips and flicking tail. He was partially successful, though not so much that he caught Aiden’s look of confusion at his comment. The sound of glass crunching under boot brought him back into the moment as the armor-clad figure stalked towards him.

The Human reached for him, his hand grasping naught but air as the Ryn seemed to twist out of the way in a manner that struck him as physically impossible. He was starting to wonder if the Consul’s species didn’t have ribs from the way he was moving. An opportunity seemed to open as Bleu’s dodge resulted in his tripping over his own feet and falling to the floor. Aiden moved in, stuncuffs in hand still and seeking to end things before they escalated further, but felt a fresh warning through the Force. The Shadow Lord twisted on the floor, coming up on his shoulders, tail helping balance him somehow as his legs lashed out, driving Aiden back. It ended with Kordath rolling back to his feet, swaying.

“Ya know, if you was smart,” the Ryn started, feeling his now wet hair starting to itch annoyingly, “ya’d nae have woken me up. Methinks you was just lookin’ for a fight, do nae think Zuji is gonna appreciate that, lad.”

Aiden’s hands clenched and relaxed as he approached, his stuncuffs returned to his belt. This was proving to be more frustrating than he liked, especially since the Ryn seemed to be stumbling back towards the entrance to the club public area. An audience was not something the man wanted to deal with.

“Consul…” he began warily as the drunk glanced over his shoulder at the noise, turning back to look at the Human with a grin. “Have some shame, sir, don’t go running out in your—” he watched the Ryn drunkenly run out into the club proper and sighed, “skivvies.”

What did I do to deserve this? Yes, I’m indebted to his ex, but this is getting ridiculous, he thought as he pursued his target. As soon as he left the confines of the private area he was blasted with thumping music and his senses assailed with dozens of scents. His head turned this way and that, scanning the room visually while his mind reached out through the Force. It wasn’t hard to track the Shadow Lord through the crowd, they parted quite quickly for the naked, smelling Ryn. The anxiety of the club was growing, making it more difficult to focus on the drunkard’s signature. Aiden couldn’t help but wonder if that was a calculated move or just another display of Kordath’s innate ability to make this more difficult.

He began to follow the inevitable shouts of surprise and disgust that followed his target, pushing his way through the crowd when he had to. As he managed to work his way through a group of dancing Zeltrons, doing his best to ignore the scents they put off as they greeted his tall, armored form, he spotted his prey among the gambling tables. He looked to be in some kind of shouting match with a Gran, the three-eyed gambler rumbling at him in what sounded like...Huttese? Aiden wasn’t familiar with the language, but he recalled Zujenia briefing him on Kordath’s ability to speak it. Whatever they were discussing seemed to come to an end as the Ryn spotted him, giving him a drunken grin and pointing towards the Human.

“Oh, joy,” muttered Aiden as the larger alien walked towards him. It was impressive how much bigger the Gran got the closer he came before it spat out some words in a tongue he didn’t understand. He glared up at the broad-shouldered gambler and stepped to his left to go around him, only to find the Gran blocking his way. “Get out of my way.”

The man chuckled at him and continued to step from side to side to block him. From the corner of Aiden’s eye, he could see several of the club’s infamous bouncers observing. A quick touch with the Force suggested they were amused, and also anticipating something. Realization swiftly dawned on him.

Oh, that’s cute. Trying to get me thrown out by starting a fight where the bouncers can see me. Wonder how Bleu managed to get this guy to agree.

A commotion started further into the gambling area, a woman screaming. The bouncers looked to one another and slumped their shoulders in resignation, turning to follow the source of the scream. The Gran in front of him seemed to shake with a chuckle before stepping aside, again speaking in a foreign tongue.

Guess that didn’t go to the Consul’s plan, either.

He followed the screams as well, finding without much surprise the Ryn sprawled across a Sabaac table, clutching some kind of long-stemmed glass filled with a bright liquid. The bouncers were closing in, and with a sigh of annoyance, Aiden knew he had to get the Shadow Lord out of this. Getting him out of a cell later would be more difficult, and attract unwanted attention to the Clan. A look around the area showed an entrance to what may be the kitchen or a refresher, he wasn’t sure right now and had no time to worry about it while he pushed past the shocked onlookers to grab Kordath by the back of his neck and drag him off the table, ignoring the man’s yelp as he was pulled by the scruff. Stooping low to break the bouncer’s line of sight, he backed with way through the door he’d spotted, pulling Bleu along with him.

He wasn’t even surprised that the Consul hadn’t spilled his pilfered drink.