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 Bridges.

High-suspended walkways cross and weave through multiple levels of platforms. Some are solid, metal and duracrete crafting an unmoving foundation. Others are mere rope and wood, swaying with even the most gentle of breezes.

Below the walkways is a void filled with mist, the ground unseen for combatants and spectators alike. Periodic ripples of electrical energy can be seen through the mist, hinting to the deadly nature of the arena floor below.

Turel tapped his foot anxiously as he waited for the elevator to reach the arena floor. There was no telling what the Combat Master had in store for this round. Idris took Grindr away for “something special” and assured Turel that he was doing the same with his opponent’s droid.

DING

The doors swung open, and Turel saw something from his nightmares: a series of not terribly large platforms connected by bridges of various degrees of stability. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. The Jedi knew his fear of heights was irrational and was something he routinely had to push through. It wasn’t a debilitating kind of fear, but he certainly was not comfortable peering over ledges.

When Turel opened his eyes again after steeling his resolve he focused on what was before him. The platform he was standing on was durasteel and connected by stairs down to a larger platform with what appeared to have some kind of an endzone goal constructed. Standing before him were four commando droids painted to look like there were yellow jerseys on their chassis, complete with numbers and names for each. The droids stood still and silent as if waiting for a command.

“Wait a minute,” the Jedi mused as he glanced up toward the giant screens above the arena, “Iddy can’t be serious.”

The screens showed the Justicar of the Brotherhood emerging on a similar durasteel platform, curiously inspecting four commando droids who had purple painted-on jerseys instead of yellow. The crowd was going wild.

Idris came over the arena’s loudspeakers, “We have a special match for you tonight in honor of our Justicar, Kamjin “the Hutt” Lap’lamiz.”

“IT’S MAVERICK!” Kamjin shouted loud enough for the camera droids to pick up.

“Yeah, we’re still not calling you that,” Idris retorted before continuing, “In honor of our esteemed Hutt-loving Justicar we bring you HUTTBALL!!”

The crowd erupted into a mixture of boos and cheers. Clearly, some preferred straight-up deathmatches and some had watched enough Huttball to know there wasn’t much of a difference between the two. Turel stifled a laugh; whatever was going on between the two councilors was hilarious, and he was caught in the middle.

“Today it’s Sith vs Jedi, on the Rotworms we have Kamjin ‘the Hutt’ Lap’lamiz and on the Frogdogs we have Turel “Dad Bod” Sorenn.” Idris paused to let the crowd cheer and boo their chosen combatants, “filling out both teams are crystal-enhanced commando droids with the fan-favorite B1 combat droid personality matrix.”

“Oh great,” Turel commented looking at his ‘team’ of droids, “I get a team of Rodgers.”

Idris got fully into announcer character as he read from a holopad on screen, “These are the rules of Huttball: Two teams, Frog-Dogs and Rotworms chosen by random draw. One ball, slippery as a greased Hutt. Grab the ball, throw the ball, get the ball over the opposing team’s line anyway you can and your team gets a point. Weapons, name-calling and cheating are all encouraged!”

Turel had watched countless Huttball matches in his time on Nar Shadaa and knew the intro by heart, “yeah and don’t kick the ball–”

“But do not kick the ball! Hutts don’t have feet!” Idris finished reading the canned rules statement and looked directly at the camera. “Today’s match will be first to three points or until one of the combatants dies,” he paused for dramatic effect, “or falls into the pit. LETS PLAY HUTTBALL!”

With that last statement, the droids activated. Turel could see Kamjin on the far side of the arena, pointing and giving orders to his droids as if they were his troops. The Odanite turned toward his team. “Okay, I need one of you to stay by the goal, one to help me rush the center and two to position themselves in enemy territory for passing. Got it?”

The commando droids looked at each other for a moment and in unison replied “Rodger rodger!” The droids had the blaster and sword combo their model was famous for. Turel hoped the B1 matrix was only personality and that the commando droid combat protocols were still installed or this would be a really painful match.

The ball hovered on a center platform as both teams moved into position. Turel noticed suspicious-looking metal pads on the various platforms. He had seen enough Huttball to surmise that those were probably the environmental hazards that were so crucial to the game. The path to the center platform went through one of the wood and robe bridges. Cutting those would be an easy play for defense.

The Jedi Master rushed forward to the next platform, doing his best not to look down. Both teams of commando droids elegantly dashed to their various positions with the agility that model was known for. Turel pulled out and ignited his lightsaber as he ran, batting away blaster bolts one of the Rotworm droids was sending his way. The crowd erupted again as a pair of droids began having an impromptu sword fight on one of the platforms, flanking the center. The Jedi’s eyes darted around the arena looking for his human opponent. That was the real danger.

Turel noticed Kamjin was further away from the ball then he was. None of the Rotworm droids seemed to be pushing into Frogdog territory. Kam must be playing defensively. The Jedi bolted across the wooden bridge on his side of the center platform and was the first to reach the ball. He reached out his hand and tried to pull the ball to him using the Force only to have the ball seemingly push back.

Idris came back over the loudspeaker, “we made some special modifications to the Huttball; it has enhanced micro thrusters that will resist being pulled when a player is not in direct contact with the ball. In other words, if you try to use the Force on it, the ball will resist. Don’t want to make things too easy.”

“Gee thanks,” Turel remarked as he closed the distance to the ball securing it under his free arm. The human looked for one of his droid teammates and noticed one open on a platform inside enemy territory and above his current position.

“YEET!” Turel called upon the Force to enhance his strength as he hurled the ball in a clean pass to the droid. Suddenly a double-bladed purple lightsaber flew up and struck the ball mid-air before the pass could be completed.

“OH INTERCEPTION BY THE ROTWORMS!”

The ball fell into the pit, and a fresh ball emerged on the center platform. Turel admired his opponent’s cleverness. The ball was programmed to resist Force pulls but not other objects striking it. The Jedi secured the new ball and looked dead ahead at Kamjin standing on the next platform, pacing like a hungry predator with his saberstaff at the ready. A swaying wooden bridge formed the path between them. Turel had to risk the bridge or backtrack into his own territory to take one of the more stable platforms higher up. He deflected a few more blaster bolts as the human opponents stared each other down.

Kamjin groaned as he paced above Master Turel. This whole situation was like some fevered dream and he knew Idris was behind all of it. Some sort of divine punishment for something Kamjin had done. The Master Jedi stared up at him with such intensity that Kamjin knew there wasn’t going to be an easy solution to this ‘fight’.

Above the pit of tangled bridges and platforms, the larger than live holographic head of Idris revolved slowly as it continued to broadcast the match. “It’s bad news, bad news today. Arx, hear ye. Attention, please. I have some bad news. Kamjin ‘The Hutt’ is still in the game,” Idris said as a large holographic hand gestured down upon the Colosseum.

Kamjin sighed. “It’s Maverick,” he muttered in defeat, shaking his head. In the momentary lapse of focus, Turel had taken the ball and rushed deeper into his zone. Just like a Jedi to take the safer path, Kamjin thought as he played out the route in his head. With a nod, he was off. Racing along the path, he reached one of the few stable platforms. Springing off of it he propelled himself through the air. As he landed upon one of the few solid walkways, he ran at an angle to Turel who had rocked a rope bridge to help propel the Jedi Master to a lower rope bridge.

Kamjin ignited his saberstaff and kicked hard into one of the Frogdog Commando droids. Kamjin cringed as the panicked yelp of a B-1 escaped from the Commando droid vocalizer. The droid whirled its shimmering electro-sword at the Sith Master. Kamjin deflected, parried, and reposed as the purple blade sliced a figure-eight through the air. Kamjin chanced a glance at Turel who was now dangerously close to his own goal post. He smirked as he shot out his palm at the Frogdog droid. The invisible wall of energy exploded in a dust cloud as it sent the droid hurling over the ledge into the abyss.

“Hey, that’s cheating!” Turel yelled as he skidded to a halt. The ball in one hand as he concentrated on redirecting the falling droid. Kamjin took the opportunity to race down the path, hop down two platforms, and fall into Turel’s chest with a dropkick. The air escaped Turel’s lungs as he flew backwards and across the goal post.

Somewhere, a cheer went up for the Rotworms as the ball dissolved and reappeared in the center of the arena. Idris’s head reappeared above the contestants. “I’m upset! I’m very upset. You know what I like about being upset? Blame. Right now, that’s the mindset that I’m in. And you know who I’m blaming?”

Turel pushed himself off the ground. “Idris, I…”

“Hey! Don’t interrupt me! You know what? I woke up this morning thinking about some public humiliation. But now, I’ll settle for some public pain!” As the words left Idris’s mouth, great plumes of flame erupted along the goal post. The Commando droids broke off as their platforms blinked in sequence and then erupted in flame.

Kamjin seized the opportunity and launched himself at Turel. The Jedi Master ignited his own purple blade in the nic of time.

“Hey, this is Huttball, not a death match!” Turel said, taking up a two-handed grip on his hilt as he held his blade high above his head. With each thrust and slash from Kamjin, Turel's blade arced down to parry. As Kamjin twirled his staff as he smirked at the distraught feelings emanating from Idris at his continued survival, Turel made an upwards swing at his hilts.

Kamjin disconnected his hilts, saving them from the blade that passed right in front of his face. As Turel went to push the attack, a jet of fire erupted between the two combatants. As the flames died, Kamjin saw Turel racing off towards the center of the arena. Why do Jedi always want to avoid a fight? Kamjin thought as he deactivated his sabers and raced off after the ball.

Turel didn’t have to look behind to know that Kamjin was nipping on his heels as he raced toward the center of the arena. The Jedi was doing his best to focus forward and not look down at the gaping abyss below. Frogdog and Rotworm droids were mostly paired off on the platforms above and to the side trading potshots with one another. The anticipation of the crowd grew with each step; they may not all have had positive feelings toward the Jedi, but they definitely wanted a good show.

A purple Rotworm droid in one of the higher platforms droid away from its counterpart and jumped down to the center platform. The droid was now closer to the ball than Turel was. At the risk of leaving himself temporarily defenseless against his Sith pursuer, Turel took aim and threw his lightsaber at the droid as he continued to run. The Frogdog droid did not have a Force user’s reflexes and was too busy reaching for the ball to avoid the frisbee of plasma coming its way.

“AHHH!” The droid exclaimed in the high-pitched whine of a B1 as the arm that had been reaching for the ball was sliced clean off at the elbow. “JEEEDAAAAI SCUM!”

The bright lavender blade returned to its owner’s hand in a quick arc. Turel stopped just as he crossed onto the center platform and raised his left hand willing the disarmed droid to rise into the air. He spun around to face the charging Sith behind him and swung his free hand toward his target. The helpless droid flew over Turel’s shoulder and directly toward Kamjin.

“WAAAAAAAAH!!”

The Justicar was unphased, stopping for a second to get his footing, then slicing the flying droid chassis in half with a single precise motion of his saber staff. Turel couldn’t help but admire his opponent’s unwavering determination.

Idris’ voice boomed over the arena’s speaker system, “TEAM KILL!!” The crowd roared with excitement. “Let’s bring in another Rotworm player off the bench.” Somewhere at the back, another commando droid emerged from the elevator to even the teams out.

The Jedi Master knew he only had mere seconds to grab the ball while it was open and decided to take the opening. He jumped forward, grabbed the ball, and threw it up to the now-open Frogdog droid in the upper center platform.

“FROGDOG PASS, BIG GAIN!” The crowd cheered.

Turel’s decision to grab and throw the ball left him open to attack, and Kamjin did not waste the opportunity. A quick bolt of lightning struck the Jedi in the back and sent him to the deck on his stomach. His entire body blazed with fire and seized up uncontrollably for a moment. He didn’t have time to dwell on the world of pain he was in as a warning shot across Turel’s conscious mind. He was able to will his muscles to roll over just enough to miss a downward thrust of the Justicar’s saberstaff into the platform.

Nearly evading a fatal blow sent a surge of adrenaline through the Jedi’s still sore and spasming body. Instinct took over. He shot up from the ground just enough to attempt a sweeping kick on his opponent which the Sith was forced to hop back to dodge. This created the space Turel needed to get back on his feet and reignite his lightsaber. The pair started moving around the platform facing one another like a pair of hungry Nexu standing off over a meal. Neither man said a word, which was uncharacteristic for Turel.

Suddenly, the goal buzzer went off, and flames shot up on every platform, forcing the pair to dodge for a moment. The Combat Master’s voice again rang out, “FROGDOG GOAL! Now that’s what I like to see!”

Part of the crowd began chanting “BEAT KAM! BEAT KAM!”

Turel smiled, “Wow, and here I thought I was the unpopular one on Arx.”

“Idris…” Kamjin hissed in an accusatory manner under his breath.

The Jedi Master took advantage of the momentary distraction to reach across the currents of the Force to touch the surface of the Justicar’s mind, searching for some kind of vulnerability he could exploit. Aside from a strong emotional desire to win the current match, Turel picked up on something repeating over and over in Kamjin’s thoughts. A desire? Compulsion? No, obsession.

The Odanite’s face involuntarily shifted to a confused look, “Who’s the Mother?”

The gates to the Justicar’s mental fortress slammed shut with renewed awareness, breaking the connection. Kamjin’s eyes widened with anger. “TRAITOR! You’re a Lightbringer spy, aren’t you? You’re one of hers!”

It was at this moment that Turel knew, he messed up.

Kamjin extended his free hand toward the Jedi and channeled his erupting volcano of rage into a torrent of pure dark side energy. Cerulean tendrils of lightning arced across the distance between the two men. Turel had temporarily dropped his saber and seemingly caught the lightning in both hands with small blue barriers of light side energy.

Turel was barely able to hold the barrage from his fellow Master back from cooking his insides like fried Klatooine paddy frog from a street vendor. “Kam, buddy, I need you to chill for a second. This won’t end well for you.”

“I’m not your buddy!” The Sith double-down on the attack pouring all his will into the attack and leaning forward.

“JEDI VS SITH, ONLY ONE WILL WALK AWAY!” Idris chimed in.

The Jedi Master focused on redirecting the deadly tendrils of energy back at the Sith. A bright flash of light filled the center platform and Kamjin was thrown backward by his own lightning. Now full of hubris, Turel walked toward his downed opponent, ignoring the ball which had reset at the center of the platform.

“You don’t survive as a Jedi in the Brotherhood without learning how to deal with Force lightning,” the Odanite remarked cooly with a grin. Turel’s momentary gloating was cut short by a barrage of blaster fire from two of the Rotworm droids. He was forced to dodge and summon his lightsaber back to his hand to deflect the bolts.

The shock had jarred Kamjin back to his senses. Imperial discipline and logic regained primacy in the Sith’s mind. The Jedi’s intrusion had touched on a deep paranoia which was now pushed aside where it belonged. Fighting through the pain from his own lightning, Kamjin stood up and split his saber-staff into two weapons. He would win this stupid game and humble this Jedi upstart.

Kamjin risks a glance at the glowing holographic scoreboard. They were tied and two minutes remained. Flexed his gloved hands over his hilts. They tingled. His body shook as his nerves tried to recover from the electrical blast he had absorbed. There’s nothing more frustrating than a Jedi refusing to give into their emotions yet being gleeful at redirecting Force Lightning. Like someone who cheated on a test and walked away with a gold star.

Kamjin ignored the epic display of droid agility occurring above him as gold and purple Commando Droids traded the ball back and forth as they flipped like gymnasts through the air, under the walkways and around them. He wanted Turel. He wanted revenge.

The Jedi Master’s lavender blade’s blurred shape swam through the air deflecting blaster bolts. Kamjin motioned to his Commando Droid to rejoin the Huttball match as he reached out into Turel’s mind.

Turel’s senses knew something was amiss immediately as the world became muted. The arena’s bright neon lights became dulled. The crackle of lightning through the mist below them was muted as if someone had hidden their head under a pillow during a thunderstorm. Turel spun around. He no longer saw the Commando Droids.

“You really don’t want to be here,” Kamjin’s voice rang clear in Turel’s mind. He spun around and saw the former Emperor standing in his royal crimson armor. The crest of Scholae Palatinae embossed upon the chest piece. “Didn’t you swear loyalty to the Shadow Lord? Shouldn’t you be there?”

“No,” Turel shook his head. “That was a lifetime ago. A different place. A different battle.” Turel brought his blade hacking down only to part through a shadow. The vision was gone before a new image of Kamjin appeared. The Justicar was dirty from head to toe. A massive tattoo of a Hutt clan took up the majority of his face. His hair had grown long and was clumped with filth.

“You still owe the cartel, Turel. Your ledger is full of unpaid tabs. Vreecha wants to be paid, Turel. He wants to be paid now,” Kamjin’s voice dripped with a Nar Shaddaan accent. “But if you ask me, I’ll pay it for you,” the Justicar continued. “All you need to do is deal before me and your debt will be wiped clean.”

“I turned against the cartel. They’ll never forgive me,” Turel screamed, the memories washing over him. He screamed with all the force of childhood repression as he blindly slashed at thin air. “Show yourself!” Turel demanded, as slow motion shapes moved just beyond the veil of his sight. Kamjin stepped out of the mist, in his flowing Justicar robes. The hood and gaiter both concealed his head.

“There it is. That little touch of darkness within you. You’ve been a naughty Jedi…but an excellent Obelisk,” Kamjin ignited his reconnected saberstaff. The purple blade cast violet shadows over Turel’s face. “I can sense it within you. Just kneel at my feet and I’ll raise you up as a mighty Obelisk ruler. You could correct all those horrible mistakes from your past,” Kamjin said, tilting his saberstaff up as if ready to appoint Turel as a tyrant king.

Turel shook his head. This wasn’t right. It couldn’t be. But it was so compelling. So many mistakes. So many things left unsaid or undone. It wasn’t so hard to kneel. That’s all it would take. A simple gesture and then he’d have all he ever wanted. He extinguished his saber as his eyes rolled to darkness. Yes, he thought. Yes, kneel, the voice inside of him echoed. He leaned forward, his knees began to bend.

“NOOOOOOOOOO!” Turel screamed. His pupils were restored, the lights and sounds of the arena rushed over him like an explosion as he stumbled backwards. Kamjin was standing above him on another platform as Turel was mere centimeters from kneeling into the abyss. Turel starred up at the holographic scoreboard. There was less than a minute remaining. The score was still tied. Kamjin was slow on the recovery from his mental manipulations.

Turel saw the huttball above him. His own Frogdog droid had the ball but was being prevented from advancing. “Pass it!” he shouted as he went running towards the goal post. The droid pivoted its body, unnaturally, as it extended itself to pass the ball. Turel leapt through a plume of fire, ignoring the pain, as he got himself into the position. He stretched out his hand. The droid’s mechanical arm launched it with inhuman strength.

Turel closed his fingers in anticipation as he turned his head to face the goal post. The final run ahead of him.

“Rotworms win!” the announcer proclaimed. Turel turned around as his jaw dropped. What had happened? The holographic projection was doing a replay of the last few seconds. Kamjin was standing on the same platform, both hands outstretched. The limb that Turel had severed from the Commando droid earlier whizzed through the air. Its mechanical hand was open. It intercepted the ball mid-air and raced it through into the opposing goal.

“That’s cheating!” Turel bellowed. Kamjin had figured out a way around the rules. The ball needed to have a physical connection, which it had from the severed limb. Turel should have kicked it into the abyss.

“Oh no,” Idris' larger than life head reappeared over the arena. “How could this have happened? You were supposed to beat Kam, Turel. But this…,” Idris was cut off by someone off-screen. “What? No. Why are you bringing me the Colosseum self-destruct pad? This is a minor annoyance not a…” Idris pantomimed a person exploding. Idris sighed and bit his tongue. “Frogdogs lose,” he said before winking out.

“You mean I won! You can’t even say it, can you?” Kamjin screamed up at the empty space.