The Vertical City, Nar Shaddaa. They call it the Smuggler's Moon—an apt description based on the myriad of sentients shuffling back and forth with their illegal wares and hidden weapons. The narrow streets below criss-cross endlessly, soaring miles above the planet's surface. Exposed and uncovered, the streets offer a nearly perfect setting for someone with some skills with ranged weapons. From a vantage point on the ledge of a towering structure of glass and steel offers a dizzying view of the cityscape.

Simple shops and merchants peddle both legitimate and illegitimate wares. Storefronts are just as plentiful as open-market pop-up tents, and the cantina's adapt the same lowlife air as the rest of the Smuggler's Moon. Enemies could be hidden in plain sight, whether one of the Hutts’ gangsters or mercenaries-for-hire looking to earn some credits. The streets are plagued with violent gangs and the general riff raff of the poor and destitute. The streets may be an ideal place for blasters, but the winding streets are difficult to disappear from. An opponent would be easily boxed in and simple to finish with a few quick slashes of a lightsaber. The moon is dangerous—even for one gifted in the Force.

Azha Mos approached the scene cautiously, after all it was an alleyway in Nar Shaddaa. He had been on Nar Shaddaa for only a few days, and he had already heard of the last few “mysterious deaths” from his friend in the Nar Shaddaa police, Sergeant Hamm. Apparently there have been a few people who exploded, with no apparent connection between them, aside from the fact that the forensic scientists of the Nar Shaddaa police department could not find the source of the explosion.

The Mirialan neared the caution tape, and noticed that it was about fifteen meters from the body. Must have been a powerful explosion, he thought, though from here I can’t see any damage to the surrounding area. Aside from the blood and chunks of skin.

He ducked under the crime tape, and felt two large left hands placed on his back. Mos smiled, knowing immediately who it was. After all there were only two Besaliks on the police Force, and only one on this case. He turned, and was proved right.

Standing in front of him was a large Besalisk who appeared to be a mottled brown. The Besalisk smiled at Mos, and stood tall. “I have to warn ya Mos,” he said with a worried tone. “This case isn’t being covered up. This means that whoever is responsible isn’t paid by the Hutts, or any other organization with money in the police.”

“Sargent Hamm,” the Private Detective replied, “what a strange greeting. If the situation is this bad, you should have called me sooner. This is what, the third victim?”

“Yeah,” the Sergeant responded distantly. “The first was a Twi’lek, then a Zabrak, and now this, a Quarren. Each one exploded differently, though, based on the power of the explosion, and all the data the forensics team could gather, they were all killed with similar explosions, though we don’t know from what.”

Azha and the Sergeant approached the body, stepping over chunks of flesh and around pools of blood. As they approached the detective's mind was flooded with something he hadn’t considered. For the briefest of moments he could sense that the victim was a Force Sensitive.

That is an interesting development, part of his mind said, storing the information for later. His eyes darted around the crime scene, in a search for other clues. After a few seconds, his eyes were drawn to the Quarren’s stump of an arm.

“Can I get some gloves?” he called out, as he knelt down to check the body.

A pair of self cleaning white Latex gloves were passed to him, and he put them on quickly. Lifting up the arm stump, and it really was nothing more than that, blown off only a few inches from the shoulder, he spotted some marks that seemed like recent scars.

“Sergeant,” he called out. “I think I found something.”

“Oh? This fast?” the Besalisk replied, sounding relieved. “We are still trying to ID him, this could help.”

“It looks like some tissue scarring,” Mos stated analytically, his mind firmly in place with the investigation. “It is a smooth scar, like a scalpel, or a sharp knife. Maybe he recently got surgery.”

“Well that is helpful,” Hamm replied sarcastically. “This planet has enough non legitimate hospitals. We can’t search all of them.”

“Any that specialize in Force Sensitives?” the Private Detective questioned.

“Another idea?” Hamm asked.

“This Quarren was a Force Sensitive, maybe the other victims were as well. It is a long shot but it would connect the three murders. Where are the other bodies?” Azha said without looking up from the victim’s body.

“At the Morgue, as usual. I can bring you there, my airspeeder is six blocks down,” Hamm replied.

“Let me guess, close enough that you can get to it, but far enough away that if someone were to steal your keys they would have trouble finding it?” Azha asked.

“You got that right detective,” the Sergeant replied. “Tucked up in a secluded alley.”

“We should get going,” Mos replied.

---

The two figures approached the back alley after ten minutes, right on time according to Rhylace’s calculations. He had been expecting them since the two visited the crime scene. A small smile crept on the Chiss’s face as he was right yet again. The Besalisk officer had been at every other scene, and Rhylace knew that despite the obvious corruption in the Nar Shaddaa Police, that even he couldn’t stay unnoticed forever.

“I don’t have enough data to leave the planet yet,” he said quietly to himself, confident he could easily get the drop on the two men. “It is a shame the chips weren’t stable enough to not explode, but I was able to make the Quarren loyal enough for a few days. More data is needed.”

Rhylace stayed in the shadows as the two moved to the air speeder, and set his sights on the Besalisk. The four armed being would be the one who could probably give Rhylace the most trouble once a fight inevitably broke out. He pulled one of his scalpel shaped vibro daggers out, one covered in a poison that would put the Sergeant to sleep. After all, it would only become more difficult for the Taldryan to avoid capture if he killed one of the police, the blue shirts always seemed to hold grudges.

The very second one of the Sergeant's hands touched the airspeeder Rhylace was on the move, slashing across the back of the large aliens neck. It didn’t take long for the poison to kick in, less than a second truthfully. Rhylace had studied the cop, one of the least corrupt on the force, and one who would have been the most eager to find the Chiss. He knew that the Besalisk was not in the best of shape, and made sure to apply more poison than was needed for a quicker effect.

As Sergeant Hamm hit the ground the Mirialan turned. The green skinned man was not a member of the police force, but, as Rhylace had deduced, some sort of consultant. Although, based on what was his belt, the cylindrical tube Rhylace recognized from his job leading Clan Taldryan, he was an exceptional consultant.

“This cannot be so easy,” Azha stated incredulously when Sergeant Hamm went down. “I take it you are the reason these people exploded Chiss? And what did you do to Hamm”

Rhylace looked at the Mirialan a second time. After all, that was a quick deduction, if a simple one. “There is more to you than I thought. The explosions were a simple malfunction. I hate the loss of the data, although the explosions gave me some data of their own. Not a big loss after all. As for the Besalisk. He is asleep, nothing brings police wrath like killing one of their own.”

“Well, that solves that,” the Private Eye said evenly. “You are coming with me to answer for your crimes.”

“That won’t happen,” the Chiss replied, his hand dropping to another blade, this one with no poison on it.

Mos saw the doctor move his hand, and pulled forth his blaster. “I said, you are coming with me!”

*Must have been a powerful explosion*, he thought, *though from here I can’t see any damage to the surrounding area. Aside from the blood and chunks of skin.*

Rhylance studied the consultant standing in front of him. The blaster the Mirialan held was easily a similar design to his own. Not so arrogant to think this consultant wouldn’t be an accurate shot, the Chiss deduced that his best course of action would be feigning surrender. A form of appeasement towards this opposition would result in a shallower chance of his own demise. He couldn’t die yet. Between his own research and the Clan that awaited his leadership, there was too much work that still needed to be completed.

“It would seem my first deduction of you was…less than accurate. I know when I am beaten,” he responded while dropping his scalpel to the ground. “I applaud your diligence, and I just know that you will be the talk of the galaxy one day. Truthfully speaking though, you seem far too young for this line of work. Be that as it may, I can’t win. Therefore I will make this situation easier on the both of us. I surrender myself to you.”

Azha did not trust the murderers’ words, and he knew that something felt off. That being said, the Chiss showed a certain honesty in his face. Azha couldn’t tell if it was genuine, or a remarkable skill in deception. Never letting his blaster fall, he approached the Chiss with the intention of arresting the man. Rhylance simply raised his hands and stood still, biding his time. He needed to create an opening, a perfect chance to retaliate against his would be captor.

“Put your hands behind you back, and make no attempt to escape or I will shoot you,” Azha refused to remove the blaster from its current position. He could not trust the killer for a second. “You deserve to die after what you’ve done, but I believe a fair and just trial would do you some good.”

As the consultant circled around behind the Chiss, he used his left hand to grab a pair of binding cuffs. Rhylance kept his arms tight against his sleeves, both hands open and behind his back. He waited for the sensation of Azha coming closer. He would not move, until he felt Azha’s hand touch his arm. As the Mirialan’s hand brushed against his skin, a scalpel fell out his sleeve and the Major’s waiting right hand. Rhylance jerked his wrist, causing the blade to glide across Azha’s hand. The consultant had felt a pulling in the Force, and managed to step back as the blade cut into his skin. Had he not moved in time the wound would have been worse. Even so, he could feel his hand begin to throb and redden as a rash extended from the afflicted cut. The poison entering his bloodstream, and spreading across his left hand, was not a good sign for the Mirialan.

Using the moment to his advantage, Rhylance spun round and grabbed his silenced-blaster from its hip holster and aimed the barrel at his opponent. The playing field had just been evened out, and he had only to wait until the poison took its toll on the consultant’s body.

“I’ll give you this one chance to let me leave and forget what you saw. The work that I do is bigger than you could possibly imagine. Your insignificant mind could not hope to understand the purpose behind my actions, and therefore will not tolerate your interruptions again.

“I’m sorry but I can’t do that,” Azha responded bewildered at the Chiss’s request. “I have a contract here to solve this crisis, and put an end to it. I refuse to end this confrontation, until you are dead, or unable to continue on.”

“Well, then I will unfortunately have to kill you. No one can know what I have been up too. My experiments serve a grander purpose, and you have just stuck your nose where it didn’t belong. I will say this, I am greatly impressed with your deductive capabilities. It just wasn’t your luck day.”

Azha could feel the throbbing infection spreading into his arm. He concentrated all his energy into trying to mend the growing affliction, with little success. The consultant knew he needed to end this quickly or risk damaging his health any further.

“Oh…did I forget to mention that I am holding the antidote to that nasty toxin coursing through your veins? I did, didn’t I…oh well. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna kill you yet. I have more data that needs collecting,” as he spoke Rhylance’s eyes seemed to burn into Azha’s. The Chiss grinned, his white teeth almost gleaming in the alleyway.

Rhylance grinned as he pulled the trigger, firing blast of energy that was intended to stun his adversary.

Rhylance's grin lasted longer than it should have though, as did his finger on the trigger. Anger flowed through him as his finger slowly pulled at the trigger, and he saw the detective begin to move out of the way. The Chiss noted his foe did not break his gaze, and quickly figured out that the Mirialan would likely need this to keep slowing his movements. Rhylance didn't even try to stop his smile, every millisecond gave him more information about his opponent.

Azha Mos grimaced in pain as he held his concentration on the Force. Pain throbbed through his arm as he slowly moved away. Even with the poison he felt sure he could grab the antidote. Once he was a good meter away from where the shot would hit, the investigator looked away and dived to the ground as the Chiss finally fired. Rolling across the ground, he felt his arm brush against his forehead, wiping away sweat he didn't realize was there.

This normally doesn't happen so soon. Dammit I need that antidote. I doubt he would just give it to me now.

Pain continued to lance up his arm as the poison made its way to Azha's heart. Sighing audibly, he decided to take the risk.

"You didn't tell me you had the cure," he said, staying away from lying, after all from what he gathered his foe was probably one of the smartest he had ever face. "How do I know you really have it? I mean your my best bet at getting rid of this disease. After all, I'm in an alley in Nar Shaddaa. I can't exactly call for help, that would just draw gang members now wouldn't it Chiss. Granted, if I'm dying anyway, I could just make your last few seconds a horrifying beating."

Rhylance paused, thinking over what the consultant had said. He had covered everything, his plan was flawless but the longer he thought about what the Mirialan had said, the more he realized he had actually missed something. It was inconceivable, but in his haste to protect the data he had been gathering so preciously he actually missed something in his plan.

Lowering his blaster, he glared at the Mirialan. "You wouldn't do that, you have to be bluffing," he said. "That would put your police friend here in danger."

Mos laughed, though that disintegrated into a hacking cough. "Your right, it would put him at risk. Then again so would being a police officer in Nar Shaddaa. Can't solve crimes without risk, and I know if roles were reversed, Hamm would do the same thing. Getting a killer is more important than trying to protect someone who knew what they were getting into. You could always stop me by rolling over the antidote. After all, with something like that in my system, fighting would make me beyond sick."

Rhylance cursed himself for overlooking the setting of the fight. He knew the Mirialan was right, and he knew it was a trap. If he tried to trick the detective, it could easily end with his death. How could he have been so careless. One missed step in haste and he threw himself in a position where he could die.

"Frak you detective," the Taldryan replied, seeing that this time he truly was trapped. He reached into his side pocket, drawing forth a small vial. The only does of the antidote he had on him. "I will enjoy watching the side effects get to you."

Mos watched as the Chiss rolled the antidote to him, and reached out with his injured hand, calling on the Force. The antidote was lifted up and flew to him, all the while the detectives good hand kept his blaster pointed at the Chiss. Opening the small vial, he drank the antidote and immediately felt pain flow to his arm. Black spots appeared in his sight, and he let out broken laugh.

"Good job killer," Mos said, standing up trying to ignore the vertigo. Realizing he was going to fall, he threw himself at Rhylance, their bodies connecting right before Mos's head hit the floor.

Rhylance didn't expect anyone to be foolish to try and fight after getting such a strong antidote. Any sane person would have sat there for a few days reeling from the nausea. As a result he went down with Mos and was dragged into a grapple. Rolling across the grimy ground of the alleyway, the two quickly ruined what they were wearing, though luckily managed to avoid broken glass and other nasty things that could have been in the area.

Despite their equal strength, the Chiss ended up on top due to the nausea Mos was dealing with. Rhylance punched Mos in the throat, hoping to get away and to his gun. If he could stun the Mirialan there was still a chance to use him in his experiment. As he did, vomit flew from Azha's mouth, spraying the Chiss. It went everywhere, down his shirt, in his eyes, over the alley, and yet still plenty of it landed on his foe as well.

Disgusted and surprised, the Taldryan pulled himself off of Mos, trying to wipe his face clean.

Azha smiled as he tried to catch his breath, accidentally swallowing some of his own vomit. Oh come on Doctor Death, you should have seen that coming

Feelings of utter repulsion ran through Rhylance’s head as the vile stench of bile filled his olfactory senses. Standing up, the Chiss removed his glasses and in wiped them off, removing the contents of his enemy’s stomach from the lenses. Closing his eyes for a moment to control his growing anger at the disgusting act the nearby consultant performed. This encounter had gone on long enough. Rhylance knew that if this took any longer his chances of a clean escape would be as ruined as his soiled uniform.

Azha remained smiling as the vertigo that consumed his balance waned following his consumption of the antidote. The Mirialan slowly stood up as the Consul of Taldryan strode towards his fallen blaster. While Rhylance took hold of his weapon, Azha retrieved his own blaster. Both individuals were smart enough to understand that the other could easily get the upper hand in this situation, so it was now a game of speed and accuracy. Rhylance spun around, his finger closing in on the trigger once more a he fired his blaster at the consultant. He smiled as he watched the bolt of energy speeding towards Azha, who faced the blue skinned Chiss as well. Searing pain burned into his abdomen as he watched the blue energy bolt erupt into the Mirialan, stunning the falling Force User into unconsciousness. Rhylance could see the recently fired blaster fall from his enemy’s hands causing him to look down at the noticeable scorch mark that surrounded a new hole in his gut.

His legs shakily gave out as the Chiss fell to the ground, a splatter of blood having fallen to the hard ground of the Nar Shaddaa alleyway. Rhylance felt emotion race through his mind. Emotion that he had long since thrown aside in his anger and loss. Fear; fear of death, of failing in his goals.

“Is this how it ends for me now? Can I finally be with you again Katrine?” he asked himself in a whisper as memories of a female Chiss bubbled through his mental walls. He smiled at the recollection of the woman he loved.

The memories of his fallen fiancé awoke his resolve. His desire for revenge filled his body as adrenaline pumped into his veins. The Chiss shakily pulled himself up from the ground, pain continuing to rack his body. He knew he hadn’t much time before his wound claimed what energy he had left. He needed to get back to his dwelling a few blocks away or risk an assured death.

Unfortunately loose ends could not be left. His goals were too important. His vision too great to allow any who could thwart his plans to remain a threat. The Chiss hobbled towards the fallen Mirialan and he pulled out a longer knife.

“I am sorry for this, but you’ve left me no choice. I would have preferred to use you to continue my work, but time is running out. Your time is done.” Voice shaking, Rhylance fell to his knees before thrusting the knife into the Mirialan’s chest. Turning his head, the Consul’s Red eyed glowed in the darkening alley as the fixated on the nearby paralyzed Besalik.