The Godless Matron was once a Trade Federation battleship, crewed by countless droid workers. Since then, many sections of the ship have fallen into disrepair due to the sheer amount of manpower involved in its maintenance. As a result, parts of the central sphere of the Lucrehulk-class battleship has been left to the ravages of time and the scars of the Clone War itself.

The crew has come to refer to this section of the Matron as The Gauntlet, largely due to the danger it represents. Located in the lower regions of the command sphere, it is a crosshatched network of ruined and damaged hallways, repair bays, and even crew quarters. While most power has been shut off to this section — save for critical systems such as life support — the systems and circuitry still require occasional maintenance in order to keep the entire framework operational. Such tech runs have become a matter of betting amongst the crew, earning it the nickname: running the gauntlet.

A heavy layer of dust sits mostly undisturbed along the debris of the halls, save for the footprints of the few crew that have tread the path before. These previously walked paths are a safety net for those who venture into The Gauntlet unknowingly. It is also thought that the remaining Separatist forces staged a last ditch defense within this area of the ship, and did so by any means necessary. Many traps, ranging from explosives to spring-loaded mechanisms, are littered throughout the untraveled pathways — or even still undisturbed within the known sections. Further still, malfunctioning B1 droids and even semi-active Spy Drones remain, ready to ambush the unsuspecting observer and adding to the dangers of the dark, debris filled tomb The Gauntlet has become.

“Stay with her Bast,” Rajhin hissed into his comlink as he traversed the decrepit durasteel corridors of the Matron’s lower decks. The Warlord’s dutiful seeker droid beeped an affirmative and the channel went dead.

Debris, broken droids and copious amounts of dust filled every millimeter of this particular section of the ship. Chute Town was bad enough and the bars closer to the core of the Matron were tolerable at best. But everything on this ship made Raj feel dirty, like he’d need a lengthy period in his ship’s refresher to get the filth out of his fur.

Raj mentally ran through the details of the contract as he continued in the direction Bast had communicated to him earlier. Ozosi Vym was his target, a half-Torgruta, half-Chiss female who had stirred up too much trouble with the local branch of the Black Suns. They wanted Ozosi delivered to them alive and were willing to pay a substantial sum of credits to make that happen. Raj, however, discovered why the bounty was so high. Vym was a Force user. He had successfully drugged her at the bar, but she still managed to resist capture and escape.

Voices faintly echoed from a large storage room just past the next hallway junction, one female and one male. Rajhin recognized the female’s voice as his target.

“Tisto, you don’t understand... I barely got away,” Ozosi’s voice began to slur as the sedative Raj had dosed her with earlier started to take effect. “He’s not a typical bounty hunter.”

The male voice sounded young and very cocksure, “I’m here now and I’m not losing you again.”

Great Rajin thought, she called for help.

The Togorian shadow decided the direct approach was in order; he had wasted enough time on this job already. He crept to the corner leading into the storeroom, carefully scanning the area for traps or alarms. Raj pulled out his comlink and raised his seeker droid’s channel.

“Bast, do you have a visual on the target?” The droid beeped an affirmative.

“Is there anyone else in that room?” Another positive beep.

Raj shot a glance down both directions of the hall and pulled out his datapad to get a text feed from Bast. Apparently, there was a protocol droid also in the storeroom and a second point of entry on the far side.

Ozosi’s ruby eyes widened as she caught a glimpse of Rajhin’s hulking feline form slip through the entryway into the storeroom. It was at this moment that Raj got a good look at his target’s male companion as he turned around to face the intruder. Tisto appeared to be an average sized, but a well-built human male at first. Then Raj noticed the Kiffar tattoo on his face. This “Tisto” seemed to be wearing Inquisitor armor modified with some sort of skull design on the front. The Kiffar had no weapons Raj could see except a pair of shockboxing gloves that he had just ignited.

Tisto placed himself between Rajhin and Ozosi. “DEX, get her out of here! She’s part of the pack.” Rajhin found that an odd way to address a mere protocol droid and made a mental note to be wary of any hidden capabilities or weapons.

DEX nodded and grabbed the female hybrid’s arm. Ozosi protested, “Tisto... run.” Her speech slurring even further as she started to slump onto the droid’s shoulder.

“I’ve got this,” Tisto announced confidently.

Rajhin sighed. Usually the sight of a two-meter tall tiger gave most near-humans pause. He had hoped by approaching directly he could intimidate whomever this was into simply leaving and minding his own business. This was going to be one of those days. The Warlord noticed Bast lurking in an air duct high above the unfolding scene.

“Look, I know you want to look tough for your girlfriend but you don’t want any part of this. Walk away now and I’ll forget I saw you.”

“No! And she’s not my girlfriend,” Tisto exclaimed with all the conviction of someone who resented the fact the female in question was not their partner.

“I don’t have time for this,” Rajhin muttered to himself as he charged forward with only his gauntlet and retracted Lion’s Claw in his hands. The Warlord moved at his top physical speed but without murderous intent. A good swift strike to the gut would shut this kid up and let him get on with his mission.

The Togorian closed the distance, traversing debris and B1 droid husks with an almost supernatural grace and swiftness. Tisto widened his stance and brought his live shockboxing gloves close to his core in a defensive posture. Rajhin didn’t waiver from his course and, once within striking distance, lowered his center of gravity and channeled all his momentum into his right hand for a palm strike to the Kiffar’s stomach. Raj wagered that his speed would allow him to penetrate his opponent’s guard.

Tisto was momentarily stunned by how fast his opponent had crossed the room but reacted with the precise movements of an experienced shockboxer. He jumped a half-step back and twisted his chest and torso back and to his left allowing Rajhin’s strike to barely miss. With Raj’s right arm extended past him, Tisto snapped his body back delivering a quick left jab which caught the Warlord on the left bicep. The Togorian let out a deep and bestial growl of pain before regaining his balance and making two quick hops backward to create space.

Rajhin’s mouth unconsciously shaped into an angry sneer revealing his front fangs before regaining his composure. He was mostly mad at himself for underestimating his opponent. He would not make the same mistake again.

“Get out of here!” Tisto roared at Ozosi and DEX.

Raj paced side to side like a hungry predator, eyes fixed on the female hybrid fleeing the scene. Tisto matched the Warlord’s movements, periodically touching his gloves together to create sparks and draw Rajhin’s attention.

Tisto couldn’t help but smile. He could feel the adrenaline rush through him as his heartbeat rose. He shifted his feet from side to side, refusing to stay in one spot. The Kiffar tried to analyze his opponent’s movements, trying to take a guess at his foe’s skill. After a few heartbeats, Tisto changed from a smile to a dark grin. He was certain he was fighting someone with as much, if not more, skill than he had. A quick glance at the feline man’s choice of weapon made the boxer chuckle inside.

“You know,” Tisto chuckled. “You already have a reach advantage. Are the blades really that necessary, kitten?”

“All the better to take down a filthy, interfering, hairless ape!” Rajhin roared back.

Hates apes. Good to know. Possibly exploitable. Let’s do this!

Tisto rushed forward shuffling side to side as he did. He led with a left jab that was quickly dodged by the Warlord. The boxer followed it up with a right hook which was dodged again, then a uppercut from the left which was stopped by his foe’s incoming left elbow. There was a flare of pain from the Kiffar’s left hand as it struck the champions gauntlet, and he quickly suppressed it. The boxer felt the counter coming before it started, throwing himself into a shoulder roll as the Warlord jabbed forward with his Lion’s claw. Tisto jolted back up as the roll was finished, throwing himself back further as the Togorian’s left foot came flying across the divide. Tisto tried to catch his balance for the landing, but had stopped paying attention to the area around himself. His foot caught on one of the destroyed B1’s and he tripped over it, landing on his back.

Rajhin, seeing this opportunity, began to run in the direction the droid known as DEX had taken Ozosi, only to duck just in time as the destroyed B1 crashed into the wall behind him. The mangled droid had passed mere centimeters away from the Warlord’s head, and he whipped around fangs showing once more. Tisto was in a sprinters position, with one arm outstretched, a dark grin on his face.

“Hey fuzzy,” the Kiffar barked. “I’m over here. Or did you see a ball of yarn that distracted you?”

“I had decided to be merciful incase you were simply a dumb ape,” Rajhin replied. “I should have remembered all of you beasts have a death wish.”

“Oh, how scary,” Tisto chuckled. “Haven’t heard anything like that before. I’m shaking in my boots. Let me try to make this right. Would you like a bowl of milk?”

“I’m going to enjoy cutting you open,” Raj replied.

The two launched at one another again, the Warlord throwing the first blow. Tisto barely dodged the strike, then reached out to the Force, steeling himself as the Warlord went to slam his left leg against the boxer’s knee. Pain flared up from the strike, but Tisto didn’t budge; instead, he grabbed his opponents leg and brought his fist down. Electricity ran through the gloved fist into the Warlord's leg. An unbalanced, telegraphed strike came from Raj with his Lion’s claw, which Tisto easily dodged as he disengaged.

Frak, that hurt worse than the last one. He seems to be getting stronger the more I insult him. No, that makes no sense. He just isn’t playing at his full strength. Need to be more careful in my actions. Don’t know what else he can be hiding. Fight defensive. Find a weapon to even things out. Plenty of scraps around, just need the right one.

Tisto shuffled back, elbows in with his arms close to his core. He shifted side to side in a defensive withdrawal, hoping to lure his opponent where he wanted him. Raj advanced with a series of blows that Tisto barely managed to fend off. He was able to dodge a fair few, but the Warlord had the advantage of reach and firm foot placement instead of being of a shuffling retreat. After several blows, Tisto felt the Lion’s Claw cut through his upper left arm as he tried to block. Panic flew through his mind as it felt heavier and he threw himself back, willingly tripping into a roll as he concentrated on his arm. There was something in his blood, each heart beat moved it forward. Six heart beats brought him to the end of his roll and he felt whatever was in his blood had reached his wrist. He let panic consume him, feeling his heartbeat increase. He grabbed an old pipe off the ground and pressed it against his leg, feeling for an edge. Satisfied, Tisto stopped his heart, halting the contaminated blood in a surface vein right above his elbow. Almost immediately, the boxer’s vision begin to blur. He felt himself lose depth perception, and resorted to gambling with his life.

Raj approached for the kill, seeing his opponent become pale. His fang’s showed as he grinned, seeing the Kiffar not budging. A third of a meter away and Tisto leapt up suddenly. Tisto’s heart beat fast and loud, almost deafening to the Kiffar. He brought the edged pipe down on his upper arm, and blood spat out from the wound. Some of the blood cleared the distance between the two of them and splashed into the Warlord’s eyes. Without a second’s hesitation, Tisto threw himself into a side roll getting out of the way of the incoming giant of an enemy.

The boxer began to laugh, blood running down his left arm. He tore off a piece of his stolen cloak and tied it around his wound. He felt light headed from the blood loss and tried to push it away, but found himself unable to.

Guess I’m pushing it a bit with the forcing myself near death. Gonna have to deal with the light headedness. Could be worse I suppose. Come on ticker; it isn’t my time yet!