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.

Beneath his concealing hood, Kul’tak’s crimson nose sniffed the rancid air with distaste.

This place is filthy even for a shanty town.

The Shadow plodded along, footsteps one silent thud after another. The raucous activity around him would have drowned out his heavier armor had he worn it. For his personal mission he had deigned to go lighter, sporting an assassin’s garb covered with his grey cloak that was designed to naturally blend into the shadows. It also helped him to not stick out like a sore thumb by covering his saber amongst the throng filling the “streets” of the Lucrehulk.

Ever since his arrival he’d noticed the mass of bodies never seemed to ebb, but continued on forever like a fleshy river he could never cross. More constant than the presence of the local denizens was the patrols of the crew that passed through unfailingly. The tension in the air was nearly palpable. Kul doubted it was a coincidence that he’d been brought aboard when dissension was appearing among some of the faces. Not that he’d been told much to begin with, but they had given him that peculiar coin for something when he’d arrived.

Patience, Mr. Drol. You’ll be informed as to how you can help in due time. Until then, enjoy our hospitality however you see fit. Chute Town has a variety of shops if you care to peruse that sort of thing. It should not be long now. Now here, this coin will mark you as a guest while you’re aboard. Welcome to the Godless Matron.

He’d instantly become suspicious, but had not been able put his finger on what it was exactly.

Your ship hailed mine, officer. I only came because I thought I could find information about my mark here. I’ll humor you for now, but know that my patience is limited.

The deck officer had merely smiled and showed him the direction of what he could only assume was this “Chute Town.” It certainly had surpassed the miserable expectations he imagined for it. Well, at least there were the shops.

The Zabrak stopped at one such shop--one of the many weapons stalls armed enough to be hazardous with so many thugs in one place--and glanced at the wares. A particularly well-forged vibropike caught his eye, reminding him of his old zhaboka from home. Compared to a lightsaber, though, it was hardly a weapon he considered anymore. The raw damaging capabilities of a plasma blade had astounded him when he’d first used one. It was a rush he’d never forget.

Lost in memory again, his hand subconsciously began to twirl the small coin he’d been given. It caught the barest glint of the vessel’s weak illumination banks, but it was enough to catch a certain set of eyes. His attention came back to the real world when several screens began to flash and a woman’s face appeared on them.

Is that…? The Herald is here?

“Attention all aboard the Matron.”

Her eyes seemed to pierce every gaze in the room at once. In his focus, Kul failed to notice the being who had moved behind him, leaving enough bodies in between them so as to not be suspicious.

“I’m sure you’ve been wondering what scheme I’ve been developing for some time? Well wonder no more. A handful of visitors aboard our fine vessel have been given small tokens. Anyone who gathers enough of these tokens will be granted clemency by myself, the Herald of the Brotherhood, for any past transgressions. Find the token-bearers and collect them all, no holds barred. Have fun!” The image winked out after she gave a parting wave.

It took a moment for the crowd to realize she was serious. Then all hell broke loose. Realizing his situation, Kul began to tuck his token back in his cloak before he was noticed. Just as he did so, a human female materialized in front of him--A force cloak?!--and snatched the token out of his grasp as his shock stunned him. A pair of crystalline eyes sparkled with amusement as the woman spun on her heels and disappeared back into the crowd.

Angry with himself at being caught so easily, and now furious at this thief, Kul roared and began the chase. Throwing aside whoever stood before him, his eyes followed the crowd as it parted for her.

Inyri kept moving, despite her target’s roar of anger behind her. The crowds were already starting to turn on one another, and the denizens of Chute Town would soon learn the true meaning of chaos. Scuffles soon ensued, starting to develop into full blown fist fights, and Inyri was not inclined to take part in any of these fights.

However, she got a strong feeling that was not about to be the case, and she spun around on a heel, seeing the Zabrak darting out of one of the crowds, charging towards her. Inyri held up her right hand and snapped her fingers, squinting her eyes a bit as she sidestepped. Her opponent let out a cry of surprise and pain as he was suddenly blinded and smashed into a shop stall. Inyri flipped her cloak off, revealing that under it, she was wearing her full mission gear, including a stealth operations suit in grey urban camo, and drew her Gile-44 pistol.

“You are not as subtle as you think. You’re not getting your token back, either.” Inyri said, her pistol up in a two handed grip, canted inwards and lined up on her opponent. She stepped closer, and the Zabrak launched to his feet, punching her once and then swiftly pulled the pistol from her hands, tossing it aside.

“Your arrogance is pathetic.” The Zabrak said with a sneer.

Inyri responded by smashing a fist into the Zabrak’s solar plexus, and then slammed a knee into his chest and executed a hip throw to slam him to the ground. The Zabrak drew back his right hand and then stretched it out, and Inyri flew backwards in blinding pain as she caught a face full of lightning.

Inyri coughed, shaking her head as she tried to stand up. As she did, the Zabrak got back on his feet and grabbed her with one hand, brandishing a claw gauntlet with the other, plunging a blade through her right shoulder slowly.

“Give me the token.” The red Zabrak demanded. Inyri winced in pain, trying hard not to cry out. Summoning her courage, Inyri brought both of her hands up onto the Zabrak’s face and jammed her thumbs into his eyes, pressing as hard as she could.

“K-k-KRIFF YOU!” Inyri shouted, but the Zabrak just kept plunging the blade deeper, grunting in pain. Inyri let her hands drop, and then punched the Zabrak hard in the throat, forcing him off of her as he started coughing and staggered backwards.

Inyri hauled herself to her feet, and drew her lightsaber, holding it in an inverted grip behind her as the light blue blade snapped to life with a POP-HISS. But as she looked around for her opponent, he was gone, as if he had faded into nothingness.

“So. You can do that, too. Fine then.” Inyri said, and extinguished her blade. Her icy blue eyes darted around, trying to see if she could see even the faintest of clues, but there was nothing, though she did find her pistol. Clipping her lightsaber back to her belt, she reached out with the Force to recover her pistol, summoning it back to her hand and started heading into the chaos once more. If he wanted to play hide and seek, she was going to make life difficult for him.

Kul watched Inyri try to embed herself amongst the gyrating throng of bodies. A crooked grin crossed his left cheek as he saw into her ploy. Indeed, it would be a clever idea to hide and be lost to his eyes, but Kul was not an acolyte anymore. And he was very, very patient when it came to the hunt. He was going to enjoy every minute of this. A dull throbbing in his head reminded him of her dirty fighting techniques and he rubbed his eyes with his fingers. Well, almost every minute. This woman could give a hit as well as take one.

Hmph. Curious.

For a mere human to be able to match him in raw technique was a pleasant surprise. He’d be sure to test her limits in order to hone his own.

Dropping his force-cloak, he wove through the river of bodies--the chaos was beginning to die down as most discovered they did not have the token, nor the unconscious person beside them--like a Nautolan in one of their oceans, and looked for visible signs of her retreat. His time as a Shadow had allowed him to pick up a few tricks, and he could see the resemblance in both of their tactics. He was confident in his ability to track her. Plus, she was bleeding. How far did she think she could run?

He was rewarded as he peeked over the heads of some shorter species: Inyri had tossed aside her physical cloak earlier, but in doing so drew his perceptive eyes to her bright, auburn hair. Noting her course, the Zabrak slipped between a row of shops and debated how to approach her. He glanced at his left gauntlet, the serrated claws glinting as they caught what feeble light there was.

Could’ve sworn I packed the one with the vibroblade attachment. The blades had done their work, though.

Based on their initial exchange, Inyri was well-trained in her martial art. If he was going to hit her up close, he would need to hit hard and fast. So he stuck to the shadows of the armament stalls, stalking his mark as he moved a few meters ahead of her. She had slowed her initial burst of speed and was now moving at a steady jog as she weaved her way towards an intersection in the “town’s” streets. If she sensed where he was she made no clear sign.

The potential risk of losing her in the intersection posed too high for his liking, so Kul lengthened his own strides and hauled himself onto a bench behind one of the stalls. The Duros standing guard over its wares gave him a warning glare, but Kul gave it a leer of his own and gained a purchase against the side of the bench with his foot. He waited as Inyri approached closer, his adrenaline rising with each step. The time it took her to cross such a small space seemed to drag on longer than it should have taken, but when the time arrived Kul struck with an excited glint in his eye.

With no concern for those around him, Kul propelled himself forward into the crowd. The cries of dismay as innocent strangers were tossed aside in his wake alerted Inyri, but her warning came too late as the Zabrak’s momentum drove him into her left side. They both crashed into a stall, taking a few bystanders with them. Kul had prepared for such an occurrence, and so was back on his feet before Inyri. He could not afford to waste time, so he immediately grabbed her up with both hands and dragged her to his own height. She gave him a look of mixed hate and fear, but softened slightly when he did not immediately strike. If she thought they were going to chat before they clashed again, she was sorely mistaken. He reared back and drove his head down with a crack against her own. The painful daze kept her from catching herself entirely as he dropped her, and his own movement was sluggish, but he followed the assault with a driving kick to her right side. The force spun her with the follow through and she collapsed in a mewling heap. Kul soaked in the sight of her weakened state, knowing a broken will was just as effective as a broken body. Based on her drive so far, though, he doubted she was down for good.

The pain was unbelievable, Inyri felt like her head was swimming and she was treading just enough water to stay afloat, but only just. But the Zabrak was ruthless, likely a bit of a sadistic streak in him. Which given his style, abilities, and his disposition, Inyri was beginning to venture a guess he was an Inquisitor too. And if that was true, then she had no reason to not end his life right here and now. She’d vowed to destroy them for slaughtering her family, all for the crime of speaking out, speaking in favor of unity instead of internal strife. But she couldn’t condemn the man to something he might not have been.

Inyri rolled onto her back to face him, her blue eyes fixing on him, one of them now bloodshot from a ruptured blood vessel, blood from several points on her face and her shoulder seeping out. The red Zabrak stared at her and paced, as if he was taking in the sight. Inyri had a good idea what to expect, but she also needed to create an opening to regain momentum in the fight, so she focused on her opponent. He held out his right hand, an evil smirk crossing his face, but that soon faded as the lightning he had hoped to conjure wasn’t coming.

Acting quickly, Inyri drew her pistol, lining it up on the other Shadow and pulled the trigger, sending a blue bolt into his shoulder, staggering him and causing him to twist to the side from the recoil of the impact. With the room afforded to her by his kick and her shot, Inyri was back on her feet, pistol up and leveled on her opponent. He stared at her once more, and then drew his lightsaber, the red blade hissing to life. Whatever crowd had assembled around them was now taking several steps backwards or outright fleeing. But Inyri did not draw her own, instead adjusting her aim slightly, which caused the Zabrak to arch an eyebrow, almost if bemused by his opponent’s choices. He took a sudden step forward, waving the blade backwards in a feign attack, to see how Inyri would react. Inyri stepped back and shifted to sidestep left, but stopped when the blade did again.

Her opponent did it again, this time letting the blade actually swing forward some before stopping it, and Inyri shuffled to the opposite side of her original sidestep. He then took one final step forward, and executed a direct slice, horizontal from right to left, to try and cut across Inyri’s torso, and adjusted so that he’d catch her as she went left. But she went right, twisted to avoid the humming red blade, and then used her off-hand to keep his lightsaber hand away from her while she jabbed the pistol’s muzzle twice repeatedly into his side, roughly where a Human’s kidneys would have been. She followed up with a single jab into his ear before hip throwing him to the ground.

“This has been fun and all, but you come at me with that thing again, I’ll leave you for whatever passes for a medic around here to find in the gutter,” Inyri said, half gritting her teeth from a mixture of pain and anger, “Walk away, go be someone else’s problem. Trust me, if you get up, neither one of us is going to like what follows.”

A violent cough brought the taste of blood to Kul’s tongue, and he spat it aside. The irony of the situation was not lost on him. By every right he should be furious at the moment. Well, he was, but another feeling stood to the forefront as it exhilarated his system: ecstasy. The pain wracking his side and other wounds was dulling his reaction time, but he was enjoying every minute of the bout.

Walk away?

He nearly scoffed aloud at the human’s ultimatum. She mistakenly assumed her advantage was impassable, that just because she stood above him meant he had somehow lost his ability to survive. A down beast was not a dead beast. Like the mighty Krayt Draigon, Kul only fought harder when backed into a corner. It was when the going got tough, that the Zabrak reached deep. So he reached deep, knowing it might have been a mistake, and pulled what little energy he had remaining to bear. He hadn't expected much considering his inability to call forth lightning a moment ago, but anything was everything in a gamble.

The moment of action was slow for both parties, but the entire exchange lasted mere moments. Inyri saw the Zabrak’s eyes grow dark as it happened. Her mind screamed trick!, but she became distracted as he deactivated his saber, drawing her eyes briefly. It was all the time he needed. Kul felt his muscles swell as he amplified them with the Force, and the increase in pain almost ended his counterattack right then and there. He growled through it as best he could and launched his attack. Empowered beyond his normal limits, the Zabrak used both of his now free hands to spin himself into a K’thri floor maneuver. His legs slammed into the human’s, sending her sprawling towards him on the floor. His shoulder gave out as he applied pressure to the open blaster wound, and he collapsed back onto his rear in consternation.

Inyri attempted to use what sway she had to catch herself, but gravity held her tight and her own backside crashed against the cold floor, as well. Both struggled to see who could rise first, but despite their wounds they both managed to halfway stand together. Kul felt the last few drops of his stamina seep from his bones and he crashed to one knee, holding an arm to his shoulder while the other lay within his cloak. His saber lay on the floor just behind him. In her fall, Inyri had dropped her own blaster somewhere in the rubble of the shop. She gave up looking and turned to the Zabrak.

“You should have walked away when I told you to. Now look at you. And for what, your stubborn pride?”

Kul raised his head, eyes full of dull fury as the orange clouds seemed to spin about in a weak fog. He gave her a soft grin that tugged the corner of his mouth. She had to strain to listen to his voice as his deep tones rasped as whispers.

“Pride? No...you’ve proven a worthy opponent. That is all I seek. By meeting you in battle, I push my own limits, I only become stronger.”

Inyri shook her head in mild disbelief.

“Sounds a lot like Sith talk. It’ll be hard to grow stronger when you’re dead, you know?”

Kul’s hand twitched beneath his cloak. He hid the movement as he laughed at her comment, causing him to cough up more blood. His vision was growing hazier.

“Indeed. We must all meet our ends at some time, though. Now, let us end this.”

Glancing to her left, Inyri spotted her blaster among some of the baskets that had been holding magazines in the rubble. She considered going to pick it, but shrugged her shoulders as the Zabrak coughed up crimson phlegm again. She walked towards him, reaching behind her to draw a combat knife. She grasped the hilt with both hands and plunged downward with it.

Kul’s hidden hand darted out, and a red, crystal stiletto plunged itself into Inyri’s throat as he rose to meet her. Her own dagger struck high, digging into his shoulder muscles. Kul yanked the stiletto free and watched her eyes grow wide as they slowly clouded and she fell. He weakly rummaged through her things until he found the token.

“I’m subtle enough when I need to be.”

For a moment, it seemed that neither was going to make the next move. Up to this point, both of them had matched one another blow for blow, striking when the other showed weakness while trying to play to their own strengths. Inyri stepped back, both to give her opponent room to stand up but also to give herself room in case he attempted to draw his lightsaber again and kill her. Part of her still didn’t want to end her Zabrak opponent’s life, he had given her some perspective on improvements, but another part of her wanted to drill a sapphire bolt through the center of his head and end the fight here and now.

The other Shadow started to stand up, his eyes once more studying her and she was doing the same, both trying to find yet another sign of weakness to exploit. Both were injured, likely relying on sheer force of will to keep fighting, with blood seeping from several spots on Inyri and the faint tuft of smoke still rising from her opponent’s shoulder, burnt flesh and cloth offending the senses of everyone still watching the fight. But Inyri knew that one of them was going to have to make the last move and end the fight.

She took her off hand off of her pistol and reached into her tactical vest, pulling the chit out from the pouch she had slipped it into, holding it up in plain view of her opponent.

“This really isn’t worth killing over.” Inyri said, and then whipped it as far as her injured shoulder would allow, sending it flying down the main avenue and disappearing as it landed on the cluttered ground. The Zabrak’s eyes narrowed, rage clearly building up in his expression.

“You can either go get it, at which point, I’ll let you walk, or you can…” Inyri didn’t get to finish her sentence before the Zabrak roared in fury and threw himself into her, knocking her to the ground. He slammed his fists into her face twice with teeth rattling force, forcing Inyri to drop her pistol and bring her arms up to shield her face from a third and fourth blow.

As he drew back, letting out yet another furious roar, Inyri drew her combat knife and brought it up, but her opponent brought both of his hands onto her left arm, trying to force the blade back down. The strength he was channeling was far more than she thought he had to spare, but she poured her own reserves into the only option she had left to her, trying to overpower him just enough. Letting the Force flow through her, she used her own right arm to brace her left arm and pushed the blade up further and further, both of them grunting and growling in anger and pain.

As the blade started to reach his neck, Inyri shifted her right hand to deliver an open palm smack to his ear, disorienting him just enough to push him face down next to her and grab his left leg. Without a second thought, Inyri slashed just below his knee and then right about where the Achilles tendon was.

Her opponent began screaming as Inyri rolled him off of her and got back to her feet. Her vision was blurring, she could barely keep from swaying from side to side as she sheathed her knife and collected her pistol.

“We’re done here.” Inyri said, and began limping away.