The Godless Matron is home to many, resembling a micro-society for those who wish to live outside the typical rule of the galaxy. The Lucrehulk-class battleship's massive hangers have been converted into dwellings as a result. Chute Town is the most notable of these makeshift towns. Many shops and storefronts have been constructed to take advantage of the higher volume of foot traffic. In addition, many ships and crews arrive into Chute Town to sell their "well-earned" commodities, weapons, or artifacts. It is commonplace to find the best and the worst gear the galaxy has to offer, it is only a matter of how big your pocketbook is. The streets are patrolled regularly by the crew of the Matron itself, leaving would-be miscreants to be more wary, lest they find themselves on the receiving end of a pirate's sense of justice.

It is built mostly out of spare durasteel panels from derelict ships, dismantled machinery, or any other source or material the pirates could scavenge. It spans the length of the massive portside hangar of the Matron, reaching from its heavily protected reactor — hidden behind triple-reinforced blast doors and a guard retinue — all the way to the hangar entrance where the many incoming ships unload their cargo. It is more than a mile long, over five hundred feet wide and up to three stories tall, covering most of the floor. Chute Town's streets are a miniature maze, weaving in between buildings on several levels. Verticality is key for the masses of shops and bars to operate without interfering with one another. The main street is nicknamed Murder alley, mostly because all the weapon shops are prominently opened there.

Illumination banks are staggered along the walkways and buildings to provide enough light for the society to function. Still, the streets are left dim with a low hanging fog built up from the collective humidity of so many people in one space. For those calling it their home, there is no such thing as off hours. A large crowd bustles along at all hours, an exotic assortment of individuals from countless planets and the warring gangs that divvy up the territory within. It's the perfect place for those looking to disappear in the crowd.

“I wonder if the crew of the Matron receives hazard pay,” Lucine mused as she admired her handiwork. “If they do not, they most certainly should.”

A short distance away, an Epicanthix man was in the midst of a melee with four members of the Matron’s crew. He roared with rage as he barreled toward one of the hapless crewmembers, unnerving the man so much that his shots went wide of their mark despite his point-blank range. The Juggernaut’s lightsaber cleaved through the man’s arm before he whirled to turn his orange-hued eyes on his other opponents.

Wrathus, Lucine mused as she tapped a few notes about his combat abilities into her datapad. An Epicanthix of impressive size who seems to have a tendency toward bloodlust. Tends to prefer an aggressive combat style.

As she watched Wrathus tear through two more of the crew members, she cringed at his ruthless tactics. One thing was for certain, she would not want to face him. For the briefest of moments, she felt a bit bad about arranging this little combat scenario. It was becoming increasingly obvious that the crew involved would not be walking away from it. But her contact needed the intel on his fighting style, and Lucine prided herself on her ability to deliver results.

Better them than me, she thought, trying not to cringe as Wrathus used his lightsaber to cut his remaining opponent in two. The fight was effectively over. Pleased that the gruesome business was done, she saved her report and put her datapad away.

But before she could slip into, she noticed that Wrathus had turned his orange-hued eyes on her. He stormed toward her with his lightsaber still blazing, and a thunderous expression on his face.

“Err… can I help you with something, darling?” Lucine called to him, her face the picture of innocence.

“You. You were there when those men approached me,” Wrathus growled.

Lucine stared at him, her eyes wide. Well, it seems that he is more perceptive than I had originally thought. I will have to add that to my notes. “I am simply waiting for someone,” she replied.

As she spoke, her eyes darted between his face and his plasma blade, even as he hand slipped down to her own lightsaber which was safely hidden in the folds of her cloak. The Epicanthix seemed ready for a fight, but that would be against her best interests. Fighting with Wrathus in the middle of an open street would draw too much attention toward her activities.

I must allay his suspicions and remove myself from this situation as quickly as possible, she decided. This was a man who was accustomed to others being afraid of him and would think it strange if she was not. She would have to play the role and find a way to slip away.

The Epicanthix narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. “And one of those men said someone told them that I had smuggled goods on board without paying the docking fees,” he continued as if she had not spoken.

“You think it was me? Why would I hang around if I had done that?” Lucine asked. She marveled at this strange conversation; perhaps sanity was not his strong suit.

Wrathus nodded slowly as if her words confirmed something to him. “Maybe you didn’t tell them. Maybe you did.” His face then split into a wide, bloodthirsty grin. “Maybe I’m just not done killing yet.”

He moved quickly and with little warning as he slashed at her with his lightsaber. Damn it! she cursed inwardly as she jumped backward, narrowly avoiding being bisected by his blade. Her own lightsaber flared to life, and she hastily brought it up to defend as Wrathus stalked closer. He bellowed fearsomely as he brought his weapon around in a devastating overhead slash that sent vibrations jarring up her wrist and forced her back a few steps.

He is strong! She hastily drew upon her fear and used it to make here words seem more agreeable. “Stop! You do not want to attack me!”

The Juggernaut took a single step toward her, still clutching his lightsaber in a two-handed grip. His muscles were tense, ready for a follow-up strike, but his face was shadowed with a look of confusion. “I…. I don’t?”

“No, of course not!” the redhead replied as she took a few steps backward, toward a narrow side-street. She hastily glanced around, but there was no sign of any other members of the Matron’s crew. The only people around were a few bored-looking mercenaries who were placing bets on the outcome of the fight and a number of panicked civilians who were trying to steer clear of the fighting. “You want to stay right there.”

Wrathus glared at her as he considered her words, but made no further move to attack. As he watched, she took a few more steps backward, before darting down the side-street. The seconds ticked past, and his mind gradually cleared. “No,” he said at last. “I think I do want to attack.”

He strode forward and glared down the street after Lucine. It proved to be a narrow alley that appeared deserted. The redhead, it seemed, had disappeared.

Wrathus smiled coldly once again. “Ready or not, here I come,” he muttered.