So named because it is located one thousand, three hundred, and thirteen levels from the core of Coruscant, Level 1313 is distanced from the politics of the upper levels. Overlooking the chasm burrowing further into Coruscant’s core, one can watch freighters transporting their illicit cargo between levels. One misstep would send the careless careening into the bottomless pit, or aid the local gangs in staging “accidents.”

Weathered duracrete forms the retainer along the chasm wall, built in concentric rings that descend down an untold height. Strengthened with solid durasteel braces, maintenance has not been needed this far into Coruscant for a long time. Nevertheless, droids pre-programmed to fill in the cracks and crevices that might form in the walls float on repulsorlifts without drawing attention from the criminal gangs. The gangs themselves are focused on their next smuggling operation or struggle for control over Coruscant’s scum-filled underbelly.

Darkness would normally prevail at this time in the late evening on a planet such as this, but not Coruscant. Not with all the glitz and glamor that came along with a city-planet. Well, the glamor part was not evident in places like Level 1313, especially with the tunnel that burrowed down deep into the city layers. Peering down into the chasm and then out around the cityscape made the eyes adjust slightly.

The lack of a sun told him it was time to sleep, but the fabricated illumination said otherwise. To Xolarin, it was the perfect time for a hunt. Latest intel had instructed him to hunt for his target in this area around this time. Not the best people came out around this time, although if one were honest with themselves this place never had the best people.

The mystic used his scanner and his goggles to see if he could find his mark. The woman was a back-alley trader in artifacts that were not necessarily meant to see the light of day. Word had it that her syndicate had smuggled one of the Skywalker family heirlooms at one point. So if Xolarin wanted an ancient cog that went into another device, all presumably created and used by Marka Ragnos himself, well this woman might have the right hooks.

As Xolarin was spying for her, the hair on the back of his neck wiggled and he was warned of another more imminent danger. He moved his goggles and line of sight up and closer to him, out of the chasm and right on his level before his feelings aligned. Zoomed out now, he could hardly see what it was, but it flashed slightly and he jumped down to the ground behind a trash canister just in time. It was a bolt, and a large one at that. He got back up with his goggles and another arrow of light shot out at him, from a slightly closer location. Xolarin tucked and rolled to get out of the way, just in time again.

His connection to the Force was strong in this regard, but he still had to wonder why plasma arrows were coming right at him. Indicative of an energy bow, he felt no darkness coming from the shooter, still closing in on him. "Curious," he muttered out loud.

Eleceos was quick, nimble, and smart - he made his way quickly to Xolarin's rough location. He could have presumed the Markosian would detect the attack, but he had to try. The Miraluka darted to and fro, making ground on the older Human in seconds.

Xolarin turned and stopped, and saw the Augur hone in on him. There was a cock of Eleceos' head, evidently perplexed by the mystic stopping. While there was still a bit of distance, Xolarin pulled out his sporting blaster and fired a few rounds at his pursuer, none hitting true. It was diversion enough for Xolarin to close his eyes and breath in deeply for a second or two.

Suddenly, Eleceos slowed down, his movements not quite as agile. He found himself jogging down the alley until he saw Xolarin down the way. The fallen Jedi was doing something, and it was not a good feeling.

Xolarin still had his scanner in hand and held it up. "Who are you," he muttered again, his voice not going more than a few feet. That would take time, so he put the scanner away and then grabbed his saber hilt, still standing his ground. He stretched out his left hand, grabbed a pile of junk from afar, and slung it at Eleceos at great speed. The Force bent to his own will as he tried to slam the slowed Miraluka with the hard, sharp objects, a slight curl of his lips showing on his face.

Eleceos watched as the metal shards flew towards him. He wouldn't be able to dodge all of them, but he could make the damage less severe. Twisting his body at a sharply decreased speed, the Gray Jedi cried out in pain as razor-sharp durasteel sliced into his right arm and thigh. The wounds were more profound than he'd hoped, and he would have to find some time to heal himself, but at least he could continue on with his mission. His Consul's voice rang in his head.

"Arcona has been hired by a Miss Dasha Ren' vell. She fears an assassination while some important cargo arrives on Coruscant. You will make sure her life is protected. And do not fail me, Eleceos. Atyiru's cousin or not, I do not accept failure well."

The red-head was the source of his current dread. But he couldn't think about that right now. Right now, he needed to fight back. He could feel the Force's hold on him dropping. His speed was returning as the cloaked would-be assassin moved towards him, lightsaber hilt drawn as the blade ignited a blistering orange glow.

Eleceos grabbed and switched on his own saber. Orange clashed with emerald green as the fallen Jedi led with a full sweeping strike. Eleceos had trained hard in defensive tactics, but he was no master with a lightsaber. He blocked and swerved in a tight coil form, but his ability to protect himself was not impenetrable.

Luckily he was also faster than the other Force User. Perhaps not as trained, but the Miraluka was able to make sure his blade was ready and where it needed to be, while the assassin couldn't keep up with what his body screamed at him to do. Weaving out of the way of another unorthodox strike, Eleceos rebounded, catching the attacker's orange saber and knocking it from its owner's hands.

Using his momentum from his blow, Eleceos completed a 180 turn and ran towards his benefactor. He grimaced in pain as he felt his wounds throb. His blood now soaked his covered arm and leg. He needed to heal quickly.

"Miss Ren'Vell, you and your men need to leave now! Here are the coordinates to the ship my Clan lent me. My Cythraul is there and she will protect you. She is under my orders to do so. Now go!"

Without hesitation, the back-end dealers ran off, wanting to get away from these lightsaber-wielding freaks. Rhylance looked back to see the fallen Jedi staring at him from the alleyway.

"That was a mistake," the man said with anger in his voice.

"That was me doing my job," Eleceos responded with focused confidence. That was one of his new teacher's rules.

"Never show fear, even if you're afraid. Do your job. Get it done and be confident. Don't let your opponent know your discomfort. Do what you need to do kid. Do it with focus. And do it confidently."

"Thank you Master Satsi, " the Miraluka said to himself. He knew what he needed to do. He turned and ran, jumping over a small ledge to fall to a platform down below and made his way to another area of Level 1313.

……

Xolarin watched the young Gray Jedi run and fall below. This boy ruined his mark. This boy messed up his Clan-given mission. The fallen Jedi lived only for his Clan, for Naga Sadow, and this boy cost him his record, his duty. This would not stand.

Xolarin followed after the boy and put his lightsaber away. He knew what he had to do, and he would do it the right way, this time.

……

Eleceos found a small inlet along the platform. He hid behind a sizeable durasteel canister, his body sliding down the metallic shell. Pain wracked his arm and leg. He lost a large amount of blood, and he could feel it. His breath was shuddering, his vision weakened, and his skin paled.

Taking a deep breath, the Miraluka concentrated and drew the Force to his body. His hands shook as the binding energy channeled towards his arm and leg. He could feel the Force's pleasing warmth as the sinew in his lacerations slowly sewed themselves back together. He could feel his body accelerate the creation of new blood cells to spread throughout his body. It was tiring work, but the exhilarating heat was calming and relaxing to the Gray Jedi.

The pattering of feet on durasteel broke Eleceos's concentration. He prepared himself for an upcoming attack. As he drew his bow back out, the feeling of an old friend running up to him made him smile.

"Ash, what are you doing here, girl? I told you to stay on the ship! I wanted to do this alone."

The Cythraul whined at her partner's words. She had felt his pain and ran to his side to keep him strong. Their bond was more potent now than ever before as his training intensified. He patted the wolf's head as he crouched down to her level. His senses became more attuned as he felt the presence of the assassin. It was time to continue this battle, and now he would be ready, mostly.

Fuming. In his younger days Xolarin would have been throwing some sort of fit. He of course would have been able to stay more on top of the young Eleceos, but the trade-off for rational, calmer thinking was worth it. And thus as he caught up to the young lad, he knew roughly where he was below.

Xolarin had everything put away, with no need for his lightsaber or sensors. His mind would do the rest of the work here. "Come now, Jedi," his voice said somewhat loudly. "I've got nothing else to do, thanks to you."

There was silence as Eleceos tried to avoid contact just yet. There was an air of power forming from the younger combatant, preparing for just the right moment.

The mystic cocked his head, sensing a change around him. There was more life, and more lives - did someone come around to heal the boy? How did someone approach so quickly and undetected? A clever one, the Miraluka was. "No one said we could bring friends..."

At that moment, the culmination of power and build-up hopped out of the lower level. Eleceos leaped from his hiding place and fired one and then two plasma arrows shot out with precision and speed, and the older man's connection to the Force was the only thing that prevented the arrows from hitting him right in the torso. Eleceos' amplified shooting ability was more than a match for Xolarin's agility and precognition.

Xolarin dove to the side into a roll which turned more into a flop onto his side. There was pain in several spots on his body, presumably due to the fall. But when he looked to his other side, there was a singed, burnt, and bloody scourge on his ribs. One of those arrows grazed him significantly, causing a delayed sense of pain shooting up from the wound to his brain.

"Sithspit!" exclaimed the Human.

"That's what you get," said the boy, coming back to the same level as his foe. "Assassinations are not taken to kindly."

Xolarin's anger at the pain turned to confusion at Eleceos' words, eying him as he approached on the alleyway once again. Before he could respond, another plasma arrow shot out and hit the ground right next to Xolarin. Another warning shot, or an accident. But before he lingered on the confusion, he slammed his fist on the durasteel ground, causing a blast of energy to shoot out in waves at anyone around.

Eleceos stumbled a bit, his finely-crafted weapon coming down from a ready state. He was staggered just enough to be ill-prepared for the indirect punch to the face, slamming him back a couple meters.

Xolarin stood up, still a ways from the Miraluka boy, grinning slightly again. "You are confused, my friend. You see--" But the fallen Jedi was unable to finish as the wolf, that ended up being the other body he sensed, leaped out from where Eleceos came and pounced at Xolarin, latching onto one of his forearms and biting in. "Aagh!"

Eleceos came back to a stable state and tried to take aim with his bow, but Ash was too busy wrestling with his foe. I just need a small opening, he thought to himself, getting closer to the melee combat.

Xolarin knew his time was waning, noticing the younger Jedi getting closer. "Get... off... me..." he said exasperatingly. He was mad, moreso than when the boy ran. He grabbed the stiletto out his belt, somehow unsheathed it, and stabbed it into the torso of the wolf several times. The wolf whimpered at the attack and let go, but the noise was quickly overshadowed by Eleceos' shout.

A plasma arrow came at him, followed by others in quick succession. The aim was good, but not as true as it could have been. His amped abilities were being muffled by his anger. Xolarin dodged the bolts, a couple hitting his robes and one dinging off the shoulder of his armor. The smells of burnt clothing and flesh, of the wolf, of blood from multiple bodies, and of sweat, all consumed the olfactory senses.

"Just stop!" shouted Xolarin curtly. He shout out a weak wave of controlled force at the young one. "I'm not trying to assassinate anyone. You wasted this trip and your dog based on an assumption."

"You lie!" shouted Eleceos, still angry about Ash, and the fact that Xolarin called her a dog.

"No, and look what your hubris cost you." Xolarin shook his head, his body aching at the sites of the arrow wound and the wolf bite. "Go back to your master, boy." Xolarin could not spot Rhylance or the ship anymore nearby, but he knew he was nearby. "And I'll go back to my job that has nothing to do with you."

Eleceos started to raise his bow again, but Xolarin reached out his good arm and slammed him with invisible force yet again, knocking the Miraluka down. They had bested each other, and in fact the boy probably would have prevailed if Xolarin hadn't ended it with perceived confidence. The older man walked away, quickening his pace as he got further away, letting the boy tend to Ash and try to sort out the truth.

Tears of sadness and anger for the boy, tears of pain for the older man. That's what was left in this 1313 alley.

Pulling the string back on his bow, Eleceos trained his sight, awaiting his chance to attack. He didn't know his opponent's exact location, but he could feel the fallen Jedi's presence. Taking a deep breath, the Miraluka focused on the Force. He could feel the energy flowing through him and connect him to all that was around him. He listened for the thoughts he hoped so hard to hear.

"I wonder what Shialla's cooking for dinner, "

"I love my felinx,"

"I've got you now, boy,"

"Soon, I'll get off this planet,"

Eleceos heard the one he was looking for and locked onto his location. He was close. Very close. The Arconan carefully aimed around the durasteel canister and waited. He needed the moment to be just right, or this battle may not end in his favor.

Turning towards his ally, he smiled.

"Are you ready, Ash?"

A light yip from the Cythraul told him all he needed to know.

"Let's get this done."

…

Xolarin followed the trail of blood. He had been lucky enough to hurt the boy, and now he could easily follow him.

"I've got you now, boy" the fallen Jedi thought to himself as he came to an opening. The area was littered with old fuel canisters. He would have to be careful. Blaster drawn, Xolarin quietly stalked around the durasteel containers.

A scream in his head told him to move as a flash of light sped by his head, missing him by inches. Xolarin scurried behind another canister and stopped moving.

"I know where you are. I do not want to hurt you, but if you don't drop your weapons, I will."

The boy's voice rang over him, and he couldn't help but shake his head. This child wanted to barter with him. As if he would listen to that petulant brat. He could still see the blood platters on the ground, though they were less than before.

Moving carefully around the canister, the man waited. He would seize the right moment and show this boy just how big a mistake the kid made. As he readied himself to go on the warpath when he sensed something was off. The Force warned him of danger, and a growl behind him caught his attention. The sound of pattering feet made him turn to see a white wolf leap at him.

Moving to the side, he managed to not be bitten by the oversized canine. Its black and white eyes followed him closely. Its teeth were bared and ready to strike. Xolarin would not be beaten by a domesticated beast, though. He raised his blaster, and the Cythraul tensed. The fallen Jedi simply grinned for his self considered triumph.

Training his blaster on the animal, he failed to see the bolt that struck him in the back, burning its way through his chest.

Xolarin dropped to his knees, a look of sheer surprise written across his face before he fell over, and darkness took him.

…

Eleceos stook with his bow in his hands. He did it. He killed the man. But there was no joy in his mind or in his heart. There was no going back from taking a life. The idea of taking a life nearly broke him. But as his master had taught him, killing isn't to be looked down upon if it's for the right reasons. Protecting your family, your clan, and doing your duty.

And today, his mission was a success.