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 hangars 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 pocket book 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 it's 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.

With tensions running high, Chute Town was far more volatile than it would have been otherwise. Several of the gangs had been stepping outside their territory of late. As yet there had been no outright acts of aggression, though the perceived slights had been steadily mounting for weeks. The cracks in the dam were beginning to show. The crew of the Godless Matron just needed to apply pressure to the right place at the right time to trigger an outright gang war.

To that end, a bounty was put in place. The premise was simple enough. The Herald would grant a measure of clemency to whomsoever cashed in the ID tokens that had been planted on several individuals at random. Such a prize was without measure for not just the gangs of Chute Town, but the denizens themselves.

The Onderonian frowned as he glanced from the location in front of him, to the device in a gloved cybernetic hand that revealed him to be a matter of yards from someone possessing an ID token and back. It was a bar. And, judging by the sounds from within and what Celevon’s senses told him, a bar full of sentients.

Great.

With the tracking device strapped to his forearm, the Assassin made his way into the locale. The moment the door opened was an assault on his senses. The scents of sweat, a range of booze from cheap swill to mildly expensive liquors, and stale tobacco permeated the large room. A much heavier variant of the usual cantina music hammered at his ears, an almost screeching voice completely mangling the lyrics. In the dim lighting, Celevon could make out the collective haze of smoke that lingered just below the ceiling. As his mercurial gaze scanned the room, the Arconan took in the crowd that would make getting to the bar itself nearly impossible, a small group playing a game involving long sticks and spheres atop a felt table near the back and a mass of writhing bodies swaying to the rhythm the loud music - if it even classified as music - provided.

Eyes occasionally flitting down to the tracking device, Celevon worked through the crowd, watching as the pings became more frequent. He sighed as the pings hit a crescendo in the middle of the crowd of dancers. As the Onderonian pretended to move his body to the notes, gloved hands ghosted over pockets, which occasionally caused an innocent dancer to get smacked or punched as Celevon moved away after his fingers glided over curves of someone with particularly tight trousers.

A small grin curved his lips as the Assassin discovered the token, picking the pocket of an unwary attendant along with several credits. Objective accomplished, the ebony haired male maneuvered himself back toward the entrance. Within feet of the door, Celevon recognized a Force presence fairly near him and swung around, catching the wrist of a blue-gray furred arm. His thumb in the middle of the would-be pickpocket’s palm, the Onderonian pushed the wrist into a painful hold that drove the assailant to the ground.

Only then did Celevon glance from the hand to the face, where a familiar pained grin looked back at him.

“Heh. Fancy meeting yeh like this, Silver,” Kordath gasped out. “Yeh mind lettin’ me outta tha’ bleedin’ death lock?” The Ryn rose to his feet, rubbing his aching wrist as soon as the Onderonian released him.

“Let’s talk outside.”

“No ‘Hey Bleu. How ya doin’?’, jus’ straight into the busine- Oi!” The Rollmaster’s head jerked forward as a palm smacked the back of his head. “The hell was tha’ fer?”

“Trying to steal from me and getting caught. Keep moving,” Celevon retorted, pushing his friend through the doorway.

“Alrigh’, alrigh’! Bleedin’ ‘ell, don’ need ta get so pushy, Silver,” Kordath grumbled as he held his tail in a protective manner. “‘ate them bleedin’ swooshy doors. Always tryin’ to cut off me tail-”

“Enough about the tail, Bleu. I’m guessing you were after this?” the Assassin skipped the pleasantries, flipping the ID token between his fingers.

“No way I can convince yeh ta give me that little shiny, eh?”

“Not in the least, though I might be persuaded to split the boun-”

Celevon abruptly stopped speaking, pivoting in place to face an approaching threat. Distantly, the Onderonian was aware of more gang members approaching from behind.

“Lookie what we have ‘ere, lads. A pretty boy and ‘is pet Ryn. Just ‘and over that little token and things won’t get...” the leader of the little group paused to run a finger along the barrel of his blaster carbine. “Nasty.”

“I’m afraid we won’t be handing anything over, friend,” the Assassin sneered as he palmed one of his kunai off of his belt.

“I guess we’ll ‘ave to do this the hard way, th-”

As Celevon swung an arm out, the throwing blade spinning through the air toward the eye of the leader, Kordath dropped a flashbang grenade and released a bright flare of Force energy. The Onderonian, completely unprepared for this move, was disoriented by the bright flash of light, as well as the following burst of whiteness combined with the thunderclap of sound from the detonation.

He felt bad about it, he really did. The moment he’d seized the opportunity he felt the tingle of his conscience, as though he knew that he’d be paying for this later. Celevon was a mate, you didn’t do things like this to your mates. Unless you were surrounded by bloodthirsty gangers, in which case, eh, Edraven was better suited for a straight up fight than the Ryn ever would be.

So the Ryn tossed the flashbang, throwing up a hand up and releasing a charge of Force energy that lit up the dark street. He’d even been nice enough to kick one of the thugs in the nadgers before he ran off, being a nice guy and trying to even the odds a little. What was really gonna tick off his fellow Gatekeeper, was the little token he was clutching in one furry hand that he’d plucked from the pale Human as he took off.

He was making good time, dashing down the makeshift roads that made up Chute Town, though he wasn’t entirely certain where he was going. Guards would be posted anywhere that lead out of the area, of that he was certain. Supposedly all he needed to do was produce the token and he’d be whisked away to wherever the credits were kept. Or to see the Captain. That idea brought a grin to his bearded face, he’d not had a chance to banter with his old pal’s sister in a while. It was always fun to make the brown cloak running Odan-Urr a bit flustered by bringing up topics discussed with Morgan.

Kordath skid to a halt, coming to a cramped intersection between makeshift shacks as the Force screamed a warning to him. That he was used to, it was the idea of being compelled to go right, up, and left at the same time that was unnerving. Turning around seemed the best option, he decided, if he could find a way atop one of the taller constructions he might be able to spot a guarded lift. Bleu turned to head back the way he came and let out an undignified yelp as something pinned his tail to the deck. A glance over his shoulder spotted a wide boot, which he rated as a much better occurrence than a knife. It was always annoying having to let his tail heal, it was nearly impossible to make the thing be still.

“Help ya, friend?” he managed through gritted teeth, fighting past the pain. he looked up into the broad face of some kind of near Human. Beady, empty eyes and a smile missing more than a few teeth were focused on him.

A meaty, filthy hand was palm up in front of the man in expectation. “Gimme.”

“Give ya wot? Get off me bleedin’ tail!”

“Shiny metal thingy, gimme!”

Kord shrugged, tugging at his tail briefly in hopes the big moron would get the picture. Finally he just sighed and waved a hand at the man.

“You want ta get off me tail,” he spoke in power laden words, his tone neutral.

“I wanna get off of your tail?” The Human looked confused.

Great, he’s too stupid for this to work. Or I’m doin’ it wrong. Kark it.

“Oi! What’s that behind ya!? Two twirling Twi’leks without a stitch on!” he shouted and pointed past the man.

The idiot turned to look back, shifting enough for the Arconan to extract his tail and start running. A few seconds passed before a shout was heard and he looked back to see the Human chasing him.

And gaining, much to his concern.

“Tha hell did yer mum feed ya ta make ya this big, dumb, and bleedin’ fast!?”

“You leave mah sister out of this!”

“Wot!?”

“Gimme!”

“KARK OFF!” he screamed as he turned a corner and slammed headfirst into a familiar sight, or chest.

“Kordath…” started Celevon before the large man barreled around after the Ryn. “Still making friends, huh?”

“Funny. He’s big, he’s dumb and he’s pissed off, a hand yeah? Buy ya a drink!”

“You left me to fight those guys,” spoke the taller Arconan as he leaned against the nearby wall with nonchalance. “This one is only chasing you.”

Bleu gave him a pleading look, “Ya would nae hold a grudge against one of yer best mates, would ya?”

Normally, the Onderonian would have waited and let Kordath sweat it out if not for the fact that the gangbanger was within feet of the Ryn and easily double the size of the Rollmaster. As Celevon stepped around Bleu, the much larger Humanoid slowed his gait.

Well, frak... was all that went through the Assassin’s mind as he craned his neck to look up at the massive sentient. This one is going to hurt.

“I’m going to be nice and give you a chance to walk back to the bridge you crawled out from beneath,” Celevon drawled, wondering if he would get a crick in his neck from looking up that high. From the angle he was at, the Onderonian could barely make out the beady eyes.

“Gimme shiny metal thingy!”

“‘e told me teh same thing, Silver,” the Ryn added from several steps behind the Onderonian.

The Assassin wove Force energy into his voice, one of the few methods he knew for this particular power. “You want to go back to your friends and tell them you lost the monkey with the shiny thing, bub.”

Due to the closeness, Celevon didn’t see the lips of the massive hulk moving, although the Ryn was able to make out the mouthing of ‘blob’. Kordath cringed as the former Quaestor was backhanded hard enough to send him flying into a haphazard wooden structure, which collapsed as soon as the Assassin’s back impacted it.

“Leave mah momma outta dis!”

The Rollmaster had his gaze focused on where his friend had landed, pieces of broken boards and released dust coating the Onderonian’s form. He certainly felt when a hand the size of a frying pan clenched around his tail.

“Lil’ Monkey give Oleg shiny metal thingy.”

Since his failed attempt at a Mind Trick earlier, Bleu didn’t bother wasting time with a second. Instead, the Ryn drew his Sith Dagger from the small of his back and slashed at the wrist of the colossal Humanoid.

Oleg released the appendage with a roar of pain, before he unleashed a hair-raising growl.

Ah, bleedin’ ‘ell. If ‘e wasn’ pissed before, ‘e certainly is now. The Rollmaster had pulled a second flashbang from his belt when a grunt escaped his opponent, wounded hand reaching up for his throat as Oleg’s beady eyes widened.

A flit of his gray eyes to the side revealed that Celevon had regained his footing, blood trickling down his chin. The crimson smears combined with the coating of dust and a ghastly visage overtook the Onderonian’s face. The Assassin had his hand extended, slowly clenching a fist as he glared daggers at the behemoth. The Human abruptly gestured his arm, aiming his hand like a weapon and swiveled his wrist with a jerk.

In response, Oleg’s head snapped to the side with a harsh crack. The corpse fell to the ground as though a puppet whose strings had been cut as they looked on. They were admittedly surprised by the floor’s lack of shaking.

After a moment of silence, Bleu turned around to face his friend. “Suppose we shoulda said ‘timber’, eh?”

Though this normally would have drawn a wry grin, this time it drew an unimpressed look.

“What?”

The Onderonian said nothing in reply, merely walked forward and slugged Kordath across the jaw.

The hit leveled the shorter Arconan and sent him sprawling, the sucker punch coming out of nowhere. Even the Force had barely had time to give him the usual warnings before the hit had connected, it was just so bloody unexpected. Not unwarranted, he knew, but still it was a surprise. He blinked the stars from his vision for a few moments before registering the pale hand held out to him, which he grasped.

Celevon pulled him up off the deck with ease and proceeded to dust him off, straightening the Ryn’s jacket and vest.

“I deserved that, eh?”

“Yes, yes you did.”

“Or did ya just want us ta match?” asked Bleu as he wiped blood from his chin, giving his companion a wry grin.

“Funny, we should go before the big guy’s family comes looking for him.”

“Aye, do nae wish ta meet that one’s mum. Or sister. Both?”

Kordath glanced around the corner from which he’d come as he spoke, watching for any other hulking monstrosities of the shallow gene pool variety. When he turned back to, hopefully, make a plan with his fellow Gatekeeper, he was a bit surprised that the man was gone. A quick check of his pockets showed the token missing as well.

“Thievin’ bloody Humans…always appropriatin’ a lad’s things,” he muttered aloud, ignoring the irony of the statement as he reached out his senses to find his so-called friend. He’d not gotten too far yet, but he was moving quick and there were an intimidating amount of life signs around. A glance towards where the Shadow had been tossed by Oleg gave him a bit more hope, a dark scrap of cloth hanging from one of the broken boards. Delving into the piece of what had likely been Silver’s shirt, he focused on the connection it still held in the Force.

The Ryn took off at a trot, feeling somewhat secure in that he didn’t have that blasted token on him, enough so that he did his best to concentrate on the cloth gripped in his hand. Hazy mental images of Celevon putting a Gamorrean’s head through a window for trying to stop him came and went, before long he came upon the passed out porker.

Gettin’ closer, Bleu, now what are ya gonna do when ya catch up?

A moment of confusion passed as he entered a busier area, the trail stopping cold. He cocked his head sideways in confusion, focusing on the scrap of shirt again to no real avail. Either the Human had ditched the clothing article, in which case it was hidden very nearby and throwing him off, or…

Oh bugger.

The Force screamed out its warning loud and clear this time, causing him to duck as the slugthrower’s grip swung through where his head had been.

“What tha hells mate!?” he shouted, turning to face his assailant. Instead of his silver eyed ‘mate’ he found a displeased looking Falleen glaring at him with arms tucked into his sleeves. “Oh, uhh, sorry…”

“Like I want you getting near Morgan, Bleu,” spoke the green skinned alien in Edraven’s voice. Surprise on his side, the Human’s image rippled as he dropped the illusion, hand shooting out to grasp the Ryn’s beard.

Kordath yelped and grabbed his friend’s wrist, “Come on, Silver, we can talk about this mate! Think of Zuj! What’d she say if ya took out yer own roomie’s boyfriend, eh?”

The Human jerked Bleu forward and headbutted him before releasing him, the Ryn crumpling in a daze. A pale hand reached down and patted the disheveled little man on the head.

“I’m not gonna kill you, Kord. I just want you out of the way.”

“We...we was gonna split it…,” muttered the Ryn, trying to stay conscious.

“I owe you a drink, now, I guess. Be good,” stated the Human, turning to move back into the crowd. Kordath watched him go, head spinning still but a thought pushing its way to the surface.

Well, this of course means war, Silver. As soon as I can stand up.

Celevon weaved his way through the crowds, booted feet taking him in the direction of the meeting place to cash in the collected ID tokens. Though the Assassin felt guilty for the rough treatment he had given his friend, it was for the best; Kordath had proven in the past to be a magnet for trouble. Combined with the fact that the token was being tracked by an unknown amount of-

The Onderonian’s thoughts were cut off by the feeling of a barrel pressed against his lower back. Or, at least, what he hoped was the end of a ranged weapon.

“Ze nexssst alley to your rightsss,” an almost reptilian voice hissed in his ear. “Try to run and Barhasss putsss a bolt through your ssspine and takesss ze token anyway.”

Mildly relieved that a complete stranger was not trying to get frisky with him, the Arconan followed the directions given by the unknown assailant. The moment they were clear of civilians, Celevon swung around, striking the inner forearm of what he now realized was a Trandoshan with his cybernetic replacement. Though the blow was nowhere near strong enough to cause any lingering damage, the holdout blaster clattered to the ground. Before the green-scaled Humanoid could retaliate, the Onderonian pushed him against a duracrete wall and braced the mechanical arm against the throat of the creature.

When ‘Barhasss’ snapped at him, Celevon increased the pressure on the Trandoshan’s neck. Considering the utter lack of remorse in his earlier statement about killing the Assassin if he tried to run, the Human stared into the cold amber of his assailant’s eyes.

A lance of Force energy passed between them and ripped through the natural shields within the mind of the reptilian sentient, reinforced by a mental command. Show me your crimes.

Frustration with a bounty target he had chased across several systems led to him pulling the trigger, ending the life of a bound figure with a bag over their head. Shift. The Trandoshan taking aim at several smaller figures fleeing a burning building, the thrill of the hunt rising within Barhas. Three deadly accurate shots and they all fell. A flash of their faces as the creature dragged them back toward the pyre. Children-

The Assassin withdrew the mental probe abruptly, likely damaging the functions of the Humanoid’s mind in the process. Without putting thought into his actions, Celevon summoned the blaster to him with a tendril of Force energy. It smacked into his gloved palm and was pressed against the chest of the Trandoshan. Furious eyes of quicksilver locked with fearful amber.

Two flashes of crimson burned into the duracrete wall before the Onderonian released the body. The Arconan dropped the blaster, running up the wall before he grasped a ladder and pulled himself toward the rooftops.

It was time to cash in the ID token before any others tracked him down.

~()~

When Celevon walked out of the office, it was to find the Rollmaster of Arcona glaring at him with arms crossed across his chest. The Onderonian pulled a drawstring pouch from his pocket and tossed it to the Ryn, who fumbled to catch the small bag.

After Kordath opened the material and glanced at the credits within, confused gray eyes met the amused silver of the Human.

“You really thought I wouldn’t keep my promise and try to keep the creds for myself, Bleu?” The Assassin put a gloved hand over his heart, voice leaking sarcasm. “That hurts, mate. It really does.”

As the pair of Arconans started walking toward the suggested club, the Ryn decided to voice his annoyance. "Then why'd yeh have teh knock me in the 'ead?"

"Even without the token, you have a tendency toward attracting trouble," Celevon retorted as he searched his pockets for his pack of cigarettes.

Kordath grumbled as he handed the taller Arconan one of his smokes. "Only once or twice."

"A day. How many times have you been kidnapped again, Bleu?"

"... Tha's not wha' we were discussin' and yeh know it!"

Getting to his feet turned out to be less of an issue than he’d expected — though if not for the thugs holding him up, he wasn’t sure he’d have stayed on them.

“Sure it’s him?” asked the one to his right.

“How many Ryn you think are on the Matron, knucklehead? Just frisk him, find the token! We’ll drag him into an alley and put a slug in him for Oleg’s ma.”

“You mean his sister, boss?”

“What’s the difference?”

“Coming up empty, boss.”

“Alright, you little rodent, where’s the blasted token? Me and mine want to get drunk tonight on a bounty!”

“You and me both, mate,” slurred out the Ryn, shaking his head before glancing past the face of the apparent leader. Edraven’s long hair could still be seen, the pale Human banking on Kordath being incapacitated long enough not to worry or draw attention to himself. Bleu found himself having a moral quandary: to try and fight his way out of a tight spot, or to point them towards a mate?

“Tall, pale, long dark hair,” he stated, nodding past the man. “Go, fetch.”

“Oi, boss, I think that’s the one who was with him earlier at the club.”

The thug glared at Bleu for a few moments, gauging the Ryn for a lie before nodding to his fellows. “Go get ‘em. Thanks for the help, Ratboy.”

“No worries,” muttered the Arconan as he did his best to stumble towards the nearest wall. Shouts from the crowd came quickly enough as he tapped a cigarette out of its pack, thumbing his lighter to life as he spectated. The melee was going well enough, drawing a bit of an audience as Celevon dodged and weaved. More amusing to the Ryn was the steady influx of gang members and toughs. He wasn’t sure if they were looking for the token or just saw an opportunity for a scrape, but the small street was quickly becoming a free for all.

At one point his fellow Arconan spun near to him, catching sight of the lounging Rollmaster who gave him a nod and a smile.

“A little help, Bleu?”

“I am helpin’! Bleedin’ liability if I was in there! Yer doin’ grand!”

“Bit more active of a role, maybe?”

“Watch yer left!” he shouted, winced, “I, uhh, meant me left, sorry mate!”

“Nevermind! Don’t help!”

Kordath chuckled to himself as he stayed to his wall, watching the fight. Was it a sleemo move on his part to point the thugs towards his teammate? Sure. Would Edraven probably understand? Yeah. The two got along for a reason, they both had similar views on the truths of property and ownership of small items that fit in your pockets and generally found the same things amusing. Of course, the Erinos enjoyed a good fight more, so in Kord’s eyes he was doing the guy a favor. He’d seemed pretty pent up all day, this would do him some good. After all, what were friends for?

The ruckus was doing a decent job of weeding out the lowlifes of Chute Town, which Bleu figured was the whole point of this token nonsense. As he snubbed out a smoke and glanced down the road, he saw the first of the security folks coming. Even they couldn’t ignore a melee of this size down here close to a reactor access point. Sure, it wasn’t likely that the fight would spill into it, but even ship security on a pirate ship had to vent steam from time to time. The next time Celevon got near, the Ryn caught his eye and held up one of the small black flashbangs he carried, gesturing with a head nod.

“Ya want help, eh?” he mumbled as he tossed the flashbang into the fight with a grin. As security flooded the street he and Silver leaned against the wall, sharing a smoke and looking as innocent as they could manage. When the pair spotted a cleaner than average uniform, a sure sign of an officer, they waved him over.

“We’re still splittin’ this, aye?”

“If by that you mean this is our tab for the night, then yes.”

“Brilliant. ‘Ello, officer! We got somethin’ for ya!”