So named because it is located one thousand, three hundred, and thirteen levels from the core of Coruscant, Level 1313 is distanced from the politics of the upper levels. Overlooking the chasm burrowing further into Coruscant’s core, one can watch freighters transporting their illicit cargo between levels. One misstep would send the careless careening into the bottomless pit, or aid the local gangs in staging “accidents.”

Weathered duracrete forms the retainer along the chasm wall, built in concentric rings that descend down an untold height. Strengthened with solid durasteel braces, maintenance has not been needed this far into Coruscant for a long time. Nevertheless, droids pre-programmed to fill in the cracks and crevices that might form in the walls float on repulsorlifts without drawing attention from the criminal gangs; themselves, being focused on their next smuggling operation or struggle for control over Coruscant’s scum-filled underbelly.

“This really isn’t my style.”

It had been a long time since Arden had to run down a target. Even when he worked the spaceport streets in the Corporate Sector, and was considerably younger, running down fugitives was never really his strong suit. He preferred making a clean kill from a distance, the further away the better. The problem was getting a clean shot down here in the depths of Coruscant was a challenge and this particular quarry was an especially crafty one. Thus, he was now chasing the smuggler through an area that was full of places to hide. Under normal circumstances, this Danner fellow might have escaped.

Thankfully, Arden had the Force.

A shot from Danner’s slugthrower pistol, which was impressively well aimed for a shot on the run, whizzed right by the di Plagia’s shoulder as he turned a corner. Arden promptly replied with snap shot from his rifle that, while not connecting with its target, was close enough to make the Smuggler dodge wildly which caused his hat to fly off and land in Arden’s path. As soon as he realized that hat had fallen off, Danner unexpectedly stopped in his tracks and turned to face Arden, squeezing off a shot that also made the Sith stop to avoid getting hit.

“You kriffing bastard!” The smuggler shouted. “You made me lose my hat!”

Arden cocked an eyebrow and responded in a confused tone? “And? Who cares about a 20 credit hat when his life is on the line?”

“You Inquisitorious types wouldn’t understand,” Danner spat. “That is why you’re after me isn’t it?”

Arden shrugged. “I never said I was an Inquisitor?”

“Right, you’re just local security.” Danner’s voice was dripping with sarcasm as he first glared at Arden and then at the hat at the Plagueian’s feet. Arden didn’t need the Force to tell the item was unusually important to him. Keeping his rifle trained on the Odanite, Arden reached down to pick up the hat. Before he could get reach it, a slug came mere micrometers from taking one of the Sith’s fingers off.

“Touch it and I’ll end you.” Danner’s words had almost as much penetrating power as the bullets from his gun. Arden stood up and shook his head slightly, his rifle never twitching from its aim point in the center of the smuggler’s chest. In all his years both in law enforcement and with the Brotherhood, the di Plagia had never seen anyone quite so attached to an object that had only sentimental value. The smuggler would have had at least the chance to slip away if he hadn’t stopped. For whatever reason, he was willing to take one heck of a risk to get back an item of clothing.

For what seemed like an eternity, the two men simply stared at each other. Danner’s gaze had an intensity that could have melted the durasteel supports behind Arden. Arden’s eyes displayed a relaxed and dispassionate focus. He was here to apprehend or eliminate a target, that was all. The air had an unusual emptiness, especially for a place so teeming with activity as this part of Coruscant. Neither man seemed willing to make the first move as both at least had some respect for the skill of the other. The tension was building and it would have to break eventually.

Ever so slowly, millimeter by millimeter, the old black hat began to slide along the duracrete floor towards the Plagueian’s foot. So slow was its advance that it went unnoticed by the smuggler until, quite suddenly, it shot underneath the Warlord’s raised foot as if gripped by some invisible hand. His face never losing the mask of aloofness it currently displayed, Arden nonchalantly brought his foot down on Seth’s most prized possession, squishing the old hat flat.

“I’ma kill you!” shouted Seth, his face contorting into a mask of pure hatred.

Raising the pistol in his left hand the Odanite purposefully strode straight at his opponent firing slug after slug as he did so. Arden slipped behind a duracrete pillar as multiple rounds slammed into his makeshift hiding place, spraying his face and body with shards of duracrete. All this for a hat? he thought to himself as he shielded his eyes from the shrapnel. The Plagueian felt this had gone on long enough and popped his head out of cover looking for an opening to fire his rifle. But all he saw was the clenched right fist of the Odanite smuggler rapidly closing the distance to his face.

The blow, unexpected as it was, rocked the Warlord back on his heels. As Arden stumbled back Seth took a step forward, brought his right boot up, and unloaded a powerful straight kick to the Plagueian’s chest. Arden fell back, his breath exploding from his lungs as he struck the ground.

Aiming the pistol, still clutched in his left hand, at his prone opponent Seth asked, “Any last words?”

Quicker than a hiccup Arden’s hands shot out and snatched the Reynolds from the smuggler’s hand, quickly aiming it at its former owner’s face. “Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing,” Arden said with a smirk. The Plagueian calmly squeezed the trigger expecting to hear the deafening crack of an exploding slug but instead heard nothing but the click of an empty weapon. Arden looked at Seth before glancing at the now useless weapon in his hand. Unsure of what to do Arden cocked his arm back and threw the Reynolds at Danner’s face. As the smuggler brought his arms up to shield his face the Plagueian leapt up to his feet and quickly closed the distance between the pair.

Before the Odanite could recover his composure the di Plagia struck with a quick one two combination to the stomach, doubling Seth over, before bringing his right knee up into his adversary's face. The solid bone of the Plagueian’s knee cap slammed into the soft cartilage of Seth’s nose bursting blood vessels, the blood flowing freely from his damaged nose. Calling on the Force to increase his strength Arden brought his fist up under Seth’s jaw, lifting him off the ground, before the smuggler came crashing to earth with a thud.

The smuggler’s face was on fire and his breath came in ragged gasps as tears of pain and anger rolled down his face, mixing with the crimson blood flowing from his nose. He could hear the di Plagia’s heavy footfalls crunching through the shards of duracrete ejected from the now bullet riddled pillar. He needed to act now or he was going to die, but the pain and tears were making it hard to focus. Pulling his second Reynolds from its holster Seth fired blindly in Arden’s general direction. The Odanite could hear rounds ricocheting off walls and floors until a meaty thud followed by a howl of pain echoed through the area. A lucky bullet had punched into Arden’s foot, destroying a pair of toes on his left appendage.

Seth rose on groggy legs and, with blurry vision, began to search for his wayward possessions. He snatched up his hat and gun and stumbled off towards a side corridor. Just as he was about to round the corner something hit him in the right side knocking him into the opposite wall. Stumbling through the dark alleyways of level 1313 the wounded smuggler crashed into the denizens who dwelt here, the rabble knowing better than to pay any attention to a wounded person down there. To the left Danner saw a neon sign, a beacon in the darkness, and stumbled towards it.

“This Danner is becoming more of a problem than I thought,” Arden whispered to himself as he lost track of the smuggler. He probably thought he could hide somewhere down here and figured that Arden would be the only one tracking him. The di Plagia had always been the type to come prepared to any situation and this was no different. Keying up his commlink, the Sith whispered into it.

“IA2, do you have the subject?”

Arden had originally had acquired his ‘Dark Eye’ droids as spotters during field missions, but they were equally useful for tracking targets in urban environments. He’d had kept the droid close by in case Danner had made a break for it. After a few seconds, a mechanical voice buzzed out of the unit.

“Affirmative, 450 meters North East. Transmitting navpoint to datapad.”

“Stay with him.”

Karn flipped the comlink closed and pulled out the datapad. After taking a moment to get his bearings, he stowed the device and started making his way towards the designated location. Through the use of the Force, he was able to walk without a noticeable limp despite the damage to his left foot. The Sith seemingly glided through the crowd, seeming to be totally at ease in such an environment despite only rarely venturing into civilized space. It only took a few moments to locate the establishment his droid had directed him to. Arden didn’t even take the time to note the name of the place despite the flashing orange sign, it didn’t matter. He knew he had the right bar when he saw the small black spherical droid hovering above the entrance. It had the appearance and the smell of any of the dozens of low-class drinking establishments he’d been in before. The smell of cheap booze and unwashed bodies permeated the dimly lit place and dirt was practically everywhere. Normally such a place would be a perfect place to hide except for one thing.

There was nowhere to hide from a Sith.

It took Arden a moment to pick his quarry out of the crowd, but eventually, he made out a figure with a familiar hat pulled down to look more inconspicuous. Similarly, Arden had drawn the hood of his cloak to make himself stand out slightly less, though that would be a challenge here for someone of lesser skill. Using the lighting to his advantage, he made his way over to the figure at a table in the back corner of the bar without being noticed. By the time Danner looked up, Arden had already sat down across from him and had his blaster pistol pointed at him under the table. Danner had a look of mild but grim surprise.

“That was quicker than expected. Figured I’d at least have time for a drink.”

Arden’s reply was stern and to the point. “I don’t drink the kind of swill they serve at places like this.”

“A shame,” the smuggler answered. “So, you’re just going to shoot me in front of all these people?”

Arden’s demeanor didn’t change. “Place like this probably has a shooting or stabbing daily. I would be halfway back to Aliso before anyone cared. Also, think of all the innocents that might get hurt if I had to shoot my way out of here. That said, I’d actually rather not kill you or anyone else today.”

Danner shook his head. “You think, knowing what I know about your clan, that I’d ever just give up?”

The di Plagia chuckled. “I’m not even going to say what you heard is wrong. But, in addition to be a feared tool of the Iron Throne, I’m also a businessman. You help me, and there’s a good chance your captivity will be brief and relatively painless. Heck, you might even live through it. You try to run, that goes off the table and innocents probably die.”

“Two bad options,” Danner responded. “I could just shoot you first.”

Arden could sense the Smuggler going for his weapon and didn’t wait. He squeezed the trigger of his pistol, sending a plasma bolt right where the Odanite’s left leg met his body. Danner was briefly covered in blue energy before falling limp, the blaster having been set on stun.

“Pain it is, then.”

As he entered he found the place was a bar and he almost felt at home. Pulling his still loaded Reynolds from its holster he fired a trio of shots into the roof and screamed, “Everyone out now!!”

The drunks and waitresses ran for the exits leaving Seth alone in the dimly lit saloon. Stumbling over behind the bar he grabbed the closest bottle of whiskey and slumped down with a groan. Pulling the cork from the bottle with his teeth, he spat it out and took a long swig. The liquid burned his throat as it slid down but it dulled the pain a little and that was all Seth cared about. But he was dreading what he had to do next. He gingerly pulled aside his coat revealing the small hole in his right flank, the smell of scorched flesh and burnt hair wafting up into his ruined nose. Gritting his teeth he poured the whiskey over the wound, a grunt of pain escaping his mouth as the liquor made contact with his ruined flesh.

“Waste of damn fine booze that,” he lamented to himself before he took another swig.

While the smuggler tended to his wound Arden was busy trying to staunch the flow of blood coming from his boot. Cutting a strip of cloth from his coat he called on the Force to dull the pain before stuffing the wadded up ball of cloth into the hole in his boot. It didn’t completely stop the bleeding but Arden was satisfied that he wouldn’t bleed to death before he could seek medical attention. Rising to his feet the Plagueian scooped up his blaster rifle and hobbled off in the direction his quarry had fled.

As he turned the corner he spotted droplets of blood leading off down the dark corridor but they were getting few and far between. Arden feared he’d lost his prey until a cavalcade of screaming beings of various races came plowing down the hallway like a herd of panicked banthas. Grabbing a young Twi’lek girl by the arm he asked “What are you running from?” Pointing back the way she’d come the Twi’lek replied in a frightened voice, “A crazy man burst into the bar and started shooting.”

“Where?” demanded the Plagueian.

“Back there,” she responded. “A place called the Wicked Sisters.”

Releasing his grip di Plagia limped down the hallway until he found the bar. Raising his rifle he slowly entered the dirty establishment and scanned the room looking for his quarry. Suddenly from behind the bar an empty bottle came arcing through the air, smashing on the cold durasteel floor. A hand reached up, grabbed another bottle, and disappeared as nonchalantly as it had appeared. Arden aimed his rifle at the general area he thought the Odanite was located and said, “Come out now and surrender and maybe you’ll live.”

“Crap,” Seth muttered to himself.

Poking his head up over the lip of the bar he saw the Plagueian, his weapon raised, standing less than twenty feet from where Seth sat. Looking longingly at the bottle in his hand he sighed before he stood on wobbly legs and hurled it at the di Plagia. The Warlord rolled to his right, the bottle smashing harmlessly against the wall. Seth turned and grabbed bottle after bottle throwing them as hard as he could at the now overturned table Arden had taken up refuge behind.

“All right,” he said quietly to himself as he pulled a frag grenade from his belt. “Survive this.”

Thumbing the trigger Arden tossed the explosive over the bar where it landed less than a foot from the Odanite. The smuggler saw the frag bounce and roll before it came to a stop. He was dead and he knew it. “Huh” he said moments before the frag exploded.

Arden rose to his feet brushing off the dust and debris kicked up by the explosion. With rifle raised he slowly edged around the bar to see his handy work. The smuggler wasn’t moving, his entire right side a scorched mess of burnt flesh and clothing. His face was a ragged mess, cut to ribbons by the frag grenade’s shrapnel. Raising his rifle Arden fired a pair of blasts into the Odanite’s corpse just to be sure. His work done he limped off into the maze of corridors that made up level 1313.