Built from the shell of an ancient foundation, the Arx Colosseum has undergone renovations to allow multiple new configurations for battle. Its spectator setup remains largely the same, with high walls, tall enough for even the most savvy Jedi to find unscalable that lead up to spectator chairs which are divided into nearly organized sections to accommodate several thousand people. At the center, an elongated platform “box” contains a central throne of stone with various seats of smaller scale lined beside it in both directions. Two large holo-projection screens are set up on each side of the Colosseum, offering different angles of the match bia holocam drones.

Today’s setup is known as The Forge.

Inspired by the droid factories on Geonosis and the flowing lava rivers of Mustafar, the Forge is a collection of deadly heat and hard-slamming steel. In the center of the arena is a “peak” from which the lava flows downward through rivers and cliff-faces. Radiating outward is a series of tiered rings, each getting lower the further from the center you get.

Along the rivers of lava, various arteries suck out the super heated earth to melt metal. The loud clanking slamming of metal sheets heating and cooling, tempering and forging together ring clearly through the entire arena. Conveyor belts lead the metal sheets away from the arena to be used by ACE in the spaceship yards.

Jon Silvon had been all across the galaxy. He had seen and done many things. More importantly, he’d survived seeing and doing those things. And one didn’t survive espionage, crime wars, and the perils of the Dark Jedi Brotherhood by not knowing one’s own strengths.

No, Jon knew what he was good for, and what he was bad for. Fighting a powerful Elder of the Brotherhood in a head-on fight was definitely one of the things he was bad for. By far.

Jon knew when he was outmatched, both in terms of raw power, as well as in experience. He’d done his homework, leveraged his extensive network of informants to dig up all the information he could about his next opponent.

Shanree Argenti was just about the worst possible opponent for someone like Jon. Sneak attacks, his go-to solution, were right out -- the miraluka would sense even Jon’s meager presence in the Force with barely an eyeblink.

Even Jon’s charm probably couldn’t talk the old colonel into surrendering a tournament match, so there went preferred solution number two.

A head on fight? Hahaha, no. One flick of the cologne’s hand would have Jon flying. Probably headfirst into the lava pits below.

So, that really only left Jon one option.

Cheat.

Jon stood in the middle of one of the many steel walkways overhanging the blistering inferno below. A conveyor belt of dangling buckets of molten steel ground on overhead, perpendicular to the bridge. Sweat stuck to his forehead, and he’d had to cast off his coat and overshirt a while ago, leaving only a sleeveless tunic on his chest.

His opponent, by contrast, seemed none-the-worse-for-wear in the heat. He wore his Elder Robes without a hint of discomfort.

“I must admit,” Shanree called over the sound of roaring lava and clanking steel as he approached. “By your reputation, I was surprised to see you standing in the open like this. I was expecting some clever trick.”

“Ah well, that’s the thing about clever tricks,” Jon answered back, hands outstretched far from his ‘sabers. “If you’re opponent is expecting them, they’re not so clever anymore.”

Shanree raised an eyebrow. “Should I take that to mean you surrender?”

“Ah, the rest of the clan would never let me live it down if I did that.”

Shanree nodded, then activated his lightsabers. “I’ll make this quick, in that case. You can go back to your fellows with a few new scars to show you did your best.”

“You’ll be going home with a bit more than that.” At the Jedi’s confused expression, Jon smirked, and gave a signal to the holocam droids circling. A signal that would be seen by everyone… including his little friend Artemis with the computer spike kit, out there in the Colosseum. He wasn’t sure she’d be able to find a terminal in time.

The sliced conveyor belts over their heads suddenly ground to a halt… and began to tip. Directly over Shanree’s head.

The Jedi bolted out of the way, of course, back along the bridge just as molten steel splashed onto the spot where he’d been standing.

Jon took the opening to fire a volley of blaster bolts from his vambraces. He watched them stop in mid-air even as Shanree kept moving to avoid the oncoming lava. Good. That was just the first two tricks Jon had waiting with Artemis’ help.

How do you beat someone who can see the future? Hit them with more at once than even they can react to. With Artemis slicing the Colosseum, they’d have maybe minutes to overwhelm Shanree’s foresight before their hosts figured out what was wrong with their system. He had to work fast.

Shanree cursed inwardly as a prickle ran up his spine, and wasting no time he flung himself free. The splash of the molten metal upon the platform sent flecks of slag flying all directions, some of which hit his mask with sand-like pitting noises. The retort of Jon’s hidden blasters had him on a backfoot and unable to swing his sabers effectively, so he held out a hand and the blaster bolts froze in mid-air. Able to dance away and behind cover he released them. The SAG Agent’s research had turned up almost too much information on the smuggler, gambler, and sometimes gigolo (as some stories had it). There were too many stories that conflicted with one another for any of it to make much sense. What he’d gleaned from all of it though was that his opponent was more than he seemed at face value, and their first encounter had confirmed that. What his research hadn’t turned up was a penchant for slicing factory droids…

“Did he have help?” the Colonel thought idly as he took a moment to search the arena around him, trying to determine what was going on.

“Colonel, we’re both agreeable men… Aren’t we?” The man’s voice floated over to where Shanree lay concealed, “I really have a lot at stake here and here I am hoping You and I can come to some sort of– arrangement?”

The Grifter’s voice was moving, and as Shanree glanced over his shoulder he could see through his cover that Jon was moving from place to place, looking for something.

“Oh, there’s only one way this is going to end Smuggler”, Shanree’s voice was firm with conviction, but his mind was at work elsewhere.

He dashed from cover, batting away the sudden blaster fire that followed him with one of his emerald lightsabers. Shanree leapt off of the platform they’d begun their match upon and landed up above on a gantry in and among hanging vats of molten metal. He moved quickly and silently, tracking the Ordanite’s location with his senses, looking for his opportunity. The Man was moving frantically now, genuine fear emanating from him as he constantly glanced up and around things looking for where his opponent had gone.

“Come on, Colonel Argentine, I really think I could make this worth your while”, Jon’s free hand was tapping something out on a wrist comlink.

Shanree moved along the gantry, out of sight, until he was nearly on top of Jon who was below him now furiously whispering something into his comlink. The SAG agent prepared to drop and subdue his target when a mechanism somewhere released with a loud clunk. This was followed moments later by the whir and clang of moving machinery. Shanree’s position changed immediately as hot vats began moving all around him. He nimbly jumped out of the way of one, saw that he was now in the way of another, and was forced to leap over the side of a railing to the platform below. He landed with feline grace on both feet and with one hand on the ground, his other hand still gripping a lit saber. Looking up, there was Jon a few meters away wide-eyed and momentarily shocked.

“It didn’t work Artemis! Back up plan!” Jon hurled himself sideways as the emerald saber came swinging through the air towards him.

Shanree called the spinning weapon back to his open palm before it could bury itself in a bulkhead. Activating his second saber, Shanree launched himself into action. Jon scrambled up from where he’d dove and sought to keep distance between himself and the tempest of the Taldryanite soldier. Emerald blades tore through consoles and crates as Shanree lunged forward and swiped at the Odanite. Jon yelped as he narrowly dodged one blade by throwing himself backwards onto a control panel, only to roll off of it as the second blade bisected it in a shower of sparks. Nearby worker droids shuffled hurriedly out of the area, sensing that if they remained they might end up looking like as much scrap metal. The overhead lights flickered plunging this section of the arena-factory into shadow.

A student of Teras Kasi Shanree was a master of footwork and each of his attacks forced his opponent to hastily make decisions in avoiding his attacks that slowly eliminated his own options for retreat. Jon discovered he was cornered when he turned and ran straight into a duracrete wall painted with warnings in various languages. Shanree advanced on him slowly, emerging from the shadows with both sabers held to the side. Jon grinned ruefully and raised his hands in a silent plea. Shanree shook his head negatively and dashed forward with sudden violence of action. Jon’s first instinct was to raise his armored forearms over his head and he cringed away from the attack. There was a crack-sizzle as the lightsaber impacted the Mandalorian Iron and failed to slice through it. Shanree seemed nonplussed and backed away.

Breathing heavily, and very confused, Jon lowered his arms and peaked over the vambraces to where the Taldryan SAG Agent stood before him motionless. Jon’s eyes fell from Shanree’s stoic figure down to the sparking module on his left vambrace, and his heart fell. Shanree read the man’s slow dawning understanding through the Force with satisfaction. The Odanite tore the useless comlink off of his arm and tossed it to the ground.

Shanree twirled his sabers at the wrist, keeping his wrists limber, “Your dance card was a little full for my liking. Now it’s just you and me.”

“That wasn’t cheap,” Jon sighed, stripping the sparking comlink from his wrist and dropping it to the scorching ground. Well, there goes that trick.

True, Artemis could still see the match, or at least what parts of it were visible to the droids hovering about. But without him coordinating, he’d be as unsure of what to expect as the Colonel was.

The last thing Jon needed was to jump out of the way of a lightsaber and headfirst into a magma pot that she was trying to send Shanree’s way.

And since the Taldryan had proven frustratingly unbribable, that left Jon with two option: surrender (really, the objectively correct option, all things considered) or… his least favorite solution to any and all problems.

A straight fight.

One he was all but guaranteed to lose.

Pity.

“Still waiting, smuggler,” Shanree said. “Unless you’d like to surrender?”

Jon sigh, and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Wait, really?” Shanree asked, still on guard.

Jon smirked.

“No.”

A repulsor blast fired from his left vambrace; it didn’t stumble the Jedi, but he did need to brace himself to withstand it.

That second of hesitation gave Jon all the time he needed. From his right vambrace, he fired a grappler, and felt it tug on the top of the wall, before it started to pull him up and over.

“Let’s take this somewhere a little more open!” he called out as he reclined up the wall.

He landed with a stumble that he quickly recovered from. Truth be told, he hadn’t bothered to train much with the more… unique elements of the vambraces he’d bought off the black market years ago, and he still wasn’t confident using them in a fight. But using them as spectacle and distraction? Well that was the pirate’s specialty. He rose to his feet and took off at a run. If he was going to be forced to fight the Jedi head on, he was going to at least pick the spot and circumstances.

Shanree sailed up from below, launched into the air on enhanced strength, and landed with utmost grace belying his practiced dexterity. He held to either side his lightsaber hilts, the polished Wroshyr wood visible in his hand. Jon stood waiting, his eyes darting from place to place seeking any advantage he could gain. In the Smuggler’s dominant hand was his own wood-construction lightsaber.

The Taldryanite advanced slowly, “I heard you know how to swing that saber of yours, Mr. Silvon.”

“Oh, it’s an affectation mostly.” He pressed the activator switch and watched the pale-yellow blade emerge, and then swung it around experimentally as if playing with a new toy for the first time, “but I heard you really know your way around a saber fight…”

“I practice three hours a day,” Shanree wore a smug smirk he could tell annoyed the Odanite.

“Three hours?” Jon’s disbelief was genuine. “You need to get yourself a lover, friend.”

It was the Colonel’s turn to be annoyed, so he decided to ignore the jibe, “let’s test your footwork. If I move like this–”

Shanree’s foot crossed over his other moving him to the smuggler’s left. As if reacting by instinct Jon’s own feet moved to match the Miraluka’s, moving to Shanree’s left, beginning to circle.

The Taldryanite grinned, “good, and if I move like this–”

He crossed his other foot this time, moving the other direction, which Jon again mirrored without seeming to have to think about it. Shanree congratulated his opponent before quickly activating the saber in his right hand. He nimbly flicked his emerald blade towards his opponent who reacted skillfully with a twist of his wrist that sent Shanree’s own off wide of its target. Their blades, yellow and green, collided with snaps and hisses as they both lightly probed and tested each other’s swordsmanship.

“Good, very good,” Shanree announced after the first several clashes.

Colonel Argentin nodded inwardly to himself, satisfied he’d confirmed what he’d learned about the smuggler’s background. The man was a practitioner of the Duelist’s Form, and not half-bad though he tried to hide his true mastery behind a witless playact. Shanree’s thumb pressed the activator on his left-hand saber. Practically without noise an emerald blade emerged. Shanree launched into a full throated attack, leaping upon a nearby crate so that he could jump off of it just as quickly. Jon met the attack with a skillful parry that turned into a thrust which threatened to pierce the Miraluka’s sternum. Shanree deftly spun as he sidestepped the attack, both of his lightsaber blade spinning in a wide fan around him.

The Smuggler eyes went wide as he threw himself out of the way. He landed atop a bench pushed himself up and off it in time to avoid being bisected. Jon countered several attacks with affected clumsiness, but he always seemed able to defend himself in the most efficient manner like a real practitioner of Makashi. Shanree wasn’t duped though and he saw his opening after the man took the wrong opportunity to make a big swing; Shanree surged forward, ducking under the man’s outstretched saber arm with aim to plunge his left handed blade up and into the Smuggler’s diaphragm. It was the SAG Agent, however, who was surprised when Jon’s offhand punched him in the belly, unleashing the repulsor built into his vambrace once more. Shanree lost grip on his saber and went flying backwards as a sudden sharp pain bit at one of his ribs. He hit the deck and slid backwards far enough that the edge of the platform threatened to toss him over. Shanree managed to grab hold of something and pulled himself back to his feet as a numbing sensation washed over his injured ribs.

Jon shrugged and held his hands out to his sides like he was apologetic. “Truth be told, I don’t much care for fair fights Colonel.”

Shanree’s shoulder moved up and down as he deliberately filled his lungs with fresh air, “nor do I.”

The Odanite playfully pointed his free hand into the air and made finger blaster gestures as he fired off actual blaster bolts from his Vambrace. He was too distracted, reveling in his momentary victory, that he did not sense that Shanree’s attention was not entirely focused on him. Rather, Shanree was focused on the Lightsaber hilt he’d dropped. It lay at the feet of the Smuggler. With the flick of a finger the blade activated and the saber spun with the aid of an invisible hand.

The Saber cackled as the blade hit a force field immediately around the Smuggler, only a dozen centimeters or so from literally taking him off of his feet, “I told you Colonel, I don’t like it when I don’t have a chance to win. I can do this all day.”

“Let’s try something new then,” Shanree’s hand shot out and grabbed at the air.

Jon was pulled off of his feet and flung towards the Taldryanite soldier. Shanree timed a front kick to hit the Odanite in the chest, flatting him rather abruptly to the ground with the air knocked out of his chest. Shanree planted his foot on the gasping man’s belly and flipped his other saber, still in hand, upside down. He plunged it downward forcefully and was unsurprised when the man’s forcefield stopped the tip of the blade. Shanree pressed his weight into the saber’s hilt and watched the forcefield’s local area began to glow a subtle blue-white that intensified with his increasing pressure.

Jon wailed in panic as he watched the Emerald tip sink closer to his chest millimeter by millimeter. The Smuggler knew full well that his aftermarket additions to his magnificent vambraces were only so dependable, “I give! I give!”

Shanree’s saber was off in an instant and he took several steps back as if he’d felt someone tapping out in a practice bout. He was not unprepared to defend himself this time, having learned that lesson once already. “Really?”

Jon lay on his back, staring up at the arena’s tall ceiling, trying to catch his breath and get his heart rate back down under its redline, “yeah, whatever. I surrender. I yield– whatever the stupid term is. I’m done. I don’t want to be skewered here and now.”

Shanree studied the Smuggler through the Force for a long moment and decided he believed him. He holstered his saber over his shoulder, paced forward, and offered the man his hand.