Catering exclusively to exotic clientèle, the Jekk’Jekk Tarr Cantina on Nar Shaddaa isn’t just unwelcoming to Humans—it’s deadly. Unlike some establishments that have gained a sordid reputation, the Jekk’Jekk Tarr Cantina’s patrons don’t often bear criminal charges. Instead, circulated cyanogen fumes and pollutants that are toxic to Humans provide a buffer against less desirable company.

Instead of serving drinks, the bar serves "nutrient chemicals" to its clientèle, who pay large sums of credits for the privilege. Five sections emulate the environments of different worlds preferable to certain species and are colour-coded to signify the types of gases being vented into the chambers. The sections are divided by short halls designed to function similar to an airlock so as not to contaminate the different chambers.

The first chamber, favored by species that could perceive the infrared, such as the Devaronians and Trandoshans, is lit with red lights and doubles as the cantina’s entrance to the far more dangerous yellow and green rooms.

Simulating the harsher climates of worlds such as Ryloth and Sriluur, the yellow-tinted room to the west is still poisionous to Humans, due to the amount of concentrated gases, but leaves some near-Humans, such as Twi'leks and Weequays, unaffected.

Identical rooms lie to the east of the infrared chamber, both bearing green color-coding. Exclusive to the insectoid Gand, these chambers filter in ammonia-based atmospheres that are toxic to most other non-insectoid species. The fifth chamber requires passage through the two ammonia-based rooms, but unlike the others, the private lounge is not harmful to Humans.

In some cases, measures have been taken to circumvent the harmful toxins, including the use of breath masks. Alternatively, a control panel located in the private lounge can purge the chemicals from each room to allow Humans to pass through unhindered in dire situations. All of the rooms bear the usual outfit of an unadorned cantina—arrangements of chairs and tables set within a hexagonal space.

"..ekk Jekk..."

Droveth paused mid-step and leaned down, placing his hand over the comlink in his ear. The Lotus frequency sometimes didn't come through clearly on his little modified Inquisitorius tech, but he could have sworn they just said Jekk'Jekk.

"Operator, when I agreed to come to this stinking garbage-filled planet I didn't think I would die here." The Knight took a deep breath to calm his nerves and checked his surroundings. Confusion had made everyone tense, and Droveth was no different. He needed to be more careful when communicating with Lotus command.

"The neces...mation...datapad..." The signal faded out. The Jedi slid the comlink into his armor and retrieved his datapad. His target was a young Arconan Knight, a female Twi'lek who had allegedly sold information for the Inquisitorius; his task was to quietly eliminate her. Jekk'Jekk Tar Cantina was a very suspicious place for a Lotus member to be found, even more so now. Her presence there would only solidify her guilt.

Droveth returned his datapad and looked up at the street around him to get his bearings. He was only a few blocks from the cantina, so he set off towards it. He had a short amount of time before his target would arrive for him to figure out exactly what to do. Almost all of the rooms were filled with gases that would kill him. Luckily, the private lounge was his destination.

He neared the entrance of the cantina and ducked into an adjacent alleyway. The Jedi closed his eyes and attached his voice modulator. The image of a male Rodian in mercenary armor formed in his mind from a mist, and energy coursed over his body. He felt the warmth reach his fingertips and opened his eyes.

"Hello, world," his new voice was slightly more high-pitched than he would have preferred, but the illusion would hold. He stepped out of the alley and headed towards the entrance, stopping for a moment to slide his stiletto into his sleeve. Once the Knight eliminated his target, he would have to purge the gases and escape immediately. He waited by the entrance for a large enough group to sneak in, using the Force to condition his lungs for the trip through the poisonous Cantina.

Droveth reached up and pulled slightly on his armor, giving himself room to breathe. The private lounge was mostly empty; just him and three others. Two were a pair of Zabraks playing a game of Sabacc in the corner, while the other was a Rodian who sat alone in the center of the room, nervously rocking back and forth and eyeing Droveth out of the corner of his eye.

The Knight felt a pulse in the Force, a presence approaching from the green rooms. The Rodian stood and clapped his hands together as he walked towards the door; it opened with a hiss and in stepped a familiar face.

‘It can’t be…’Droveth thought to himself as he wrestled with what he was seeing. It was unmistakably the Consul of Arcona, Atyiru, right down to her white boots. But in Jekk’Jekk, where he was supposed to eliminate an Arconan traitor? It was too suspicious to be coincidence. The Augur reached up and removed her rebreather, placing it on the table beside her. She reached out her gloved hand, took the Rodian’s in hers, and smiled her warm smile.

“You have been very helpful, Farra. Yes, more than helpful.” Atyiru leaned in and whispered into Farra’s ear. The Rodian’s reaction showed that it was good news. Droveth felt anger rising up inside, and he could sit idly by no longer. If the Arconan Consul was involved with the Inquisitorius, he would find out. As he stood, the Miraluka turned her head slightly, and the Knight reached up into his armor to retrieve his hilt.

“You will tell me why you are here.” Droveth spoke slow and clear, weaving the Force into his words and waving his offhand toward the Arconan. He knew she would not reveal her secrets so easily, but it was worth a shot. Atyiru merely scoffed and retrieved her hilt, igniting the blade; the Human followed suit, releasing his illusion as well.

“You came here to kill one of my own, Jedi, but you did not expect me.” The Consul brought her lightsaber up in front of her with a smile. The Knight lunged forward and the two blades collided, showering the floor with sparks.

The woman moved like water, like wind; but she did not move away from him. Her saber spun ceaselessly to meet his own flurry of strikes, a mountain in his path that he could not find purchase on. Her feet only shifted at all when he tried to leap around her — twisting, whirling, a furious cyclone seeking to blast by. Her goal didn't seem to be to weather his attack or even to best him: just to stay between him and...everything else. The Rodain. The Knight he had come to kill. The information he needed. The confirmation of whether or not their allies were betraying them.

And there she was, in his way.

Prickling with frustration, the Human grimaced and shoved hard off of their interlocked sabers, watching a spray of sparks sputter like little bits of grass and sky, green and blue. Atyiru primly tilted her blade towards the floor when he backed away. He stared at her for a moment, gaze calculating, and she waited, making no further motion but for the ghost of a faint smile made eerie by the wash of lurid light that silhouetted her.

Perhaps the Rodian was, himself, a leak, and had somehow known the Odantie's plan, alerting the corrupted Arconans and laying a trap for Droveth. One thing was clear to him: the Lotus was compromised and Arcona and her Consul were involved in some fashion.

The Knight's grip on his saber spamsed. He raised it again. In the handful of heartbeats in which he'd been thinking, Atyiru had not attacked, but she had murmured to the Rodian who would be his most valuable resource if she would not surrender her secrets. "Go, Farra. Run. They're waiting for you. You'll be safe." She nudged the breathing mask she'd been wearing with her offhand towards him, and the alien took it before scampering for the halls behind them.

No.

Droveth inhaled the Force, the freshest of breaths in this poison place. He focused its pure power only briefly as he darted aside the Miraluka and hurled his chambered fist forward, eyes burning into the Rodian's back. The blast tore free, a lumbering, unstoppable eruption.

Silver and copper flashed.

His telekinetic strike did not barrel into the Rodian and knock him to the ground; it struck the other body that flung itself in its path first, toppling the woman to the floor as she knocked against the wall. She cried out with a gasp, curling around her middle just slightly.

The Rodian disappeared into the green rooms. Droveth ground his molars, springing forward. He'd trust the Force to keep him safe for the few moments it would take to seize his target, to escape the cantina—

"Stop there!" snarled the downed Consul, pointing directly at him as she shoved herself upright. He felt the mental intrusion like a spike of durasteel driven through his skull and staggered in place at the feeling of something clawing into his brain, metal fingers clenching around gray matter and ripping wet chunks free. He could resist no part of it, his nerves not following his command — he didn't have a command, only hers. And she had said to stop. "Not him. Let him go. Your fight is with me."

The words were a condemnation. He echoed, "...with you."

"Drop your saber," went on the Miraluka, standing, the hand that wasn't fixed on him cradling her side, lightsaber discarded in her dive. Droveth saw no reason to do it. He knew that. He knew that the Rodian was getting away and that she was tricking him and he refused.

But not all of his fingers listened to him. Enough of them unclenched to let his hilt clatter from his hand, its blade vanishing on impact.

"Good, now...we'll do what we were always going to, whether or not there is senseless bloodshed: sit down and talk."

"The only thing we will discuss is your intentions," Droveth growled, glaring at his hand and moving to draw his blaster to fill the empty palm. His stiletto was warm under his sleeve. "You will tell me everything, about that Rodian and the Inquisitorius, and then you and your conspirators will die as traitors to the Lotus."

He leveled the weapon at her. Her own empty hand slowly fell to her side. She bowed her head.

He heard her mutter, "What did I tell Turel, Tisto, the rest? Violence, every time..."

Then, she moved. His senses shouted to him.

And he fired.

A bright flash of red illuminated the area as a blaster bolt flew through the air, narrowly missing the Miraluka. Atyiru effortlessly glided across the room and away from Droveth’s stream of bolts. The shots collided with the far wall, leaving a trail of scorch marks a few feet apart. As the Knight pulled the trigger again, he felt his stomach drop. Not the usual intuition, but something worse. His target surely had the same gut feeling, slowing her momentum for a moment.

The bolt grazed past her right calf as the Consul stepped out of the way, taking a chunk of her boot with it. It continued on and punched through the window to the fourth room, causing spider cracks to branch out all across the pane. Gases slowly began to leak into the room through the opening. Alarm sirens blared as the lights on the walls turned to a dark red and began to flash.

Atyiru glanced down at her leg, planning to seal the superficial wound, but found the bolt had cauterized it closed. She looked back up at the Knight, who had turned towards the door. Droveth could feel a large presence approaching, which he could only assume was a security deployment. The Odanite would not be able to hold his own against Atyiru and guards. The Consul noticed her opponent’s distraction and seized her opportunity. She lunged towards the control panel, attempting to purge the gases and escape.

The Jedi whipped around as he heard his target move, but he was too late. Her hand slammed down onto the button and an audible boom was heard as the ventilation system kicked into overdrive. He could not let her escape without information on her intentions. If the Inquisitorius had indoctrinated the Arconan Consul, they were truly capable of anything. Anything! He roared as he threw his blaster pistol to the ground, reaching out his palm. His hilt flew into his hand, igniting with a snap-hiss. The Odanite threw the blade at Atyiru, guiding it with the Force.

Blue and green sparks again showered the ground as the Arconan raised her own lightsaber and deflected the throw. Droveth’s hilt crashed through the fractured window, shattering what remained. The Consul sensed that security had arrived and dashed towards the Knight. His eyes had followed his hilt, and he turned back towards his target just as her swing came down.

The tip of the azure blade carved down the Human’s chest as he dodged backwards. He screamed as he dropped, raw emotion bubbling up and out of his throat. The pain clouded his mind, stifled his breath. Droveth’s head cracked against the floor. The room spun around him, fading in and out as smoke trickled up from his wound. He reached up, deliriously touching the gash in his chest as he struggled to form a complete thought. What had happened? The ceiling flashed above in a blur.

The Consul ran and climbed up onto the window sill, pausing to look back at the Jedi. Her escape route through the cantina was directly in front of her, and her only true obstacle laid incapacitated on the ground behind her. Everything about the way the Human had behaved told her to leave. But her mind fought, the good defeating the bad, and forced her to climb down and walk back over to the fallen Odanite.

“You lot never learn,” Atyiru sighed as she leaned down and pulled on the back of Droveth’s cuirass, grunting as she shifted him over . “Turel is going to owe me big time for this.” The Knight stared up at her blankly, unable to comprehend what he was experiencing. He saw glimpses of the Consul’s concerned face looking down at him, bright flashes of red and blue, and darkness. Mostly darkness.

His first shots missed.

The woman threw herself around the furniture with wounded grace, dodging and weaving as his muzzle tracked her. She rolled along the ground, hands groping — searching for her lost saber? He didn't allow her the reprieve, aiming and spewing a plasmic barrage.

Atyiru had nearly circled the room and stumbled just long enough for one of the bolts to graze her bicep. He heard her hiss, and, feeling a grim thrill, depressed his trigger again.

She lifted her hands, brows furrowed, and in the space of those few heartbeats, the bolts met an invisible wall of her will, breaking against it. Another salvo caused the construction to shatter, but it was enough. The Consul sprinted past him, vaulting over a table and out the door.

Growling, Droveth focused, calling his lightsaber to hand. Gripping the weapon and holstering his blaster, he submerged himself in currents of Light and dove after Atyiru, following her into the multicolored miasma. There was no time to wait for it to clearpurging it.

Though the Human stopped his breathing, his eyes burned, vision crumbling at the edges like flaming paper. His adrenaline-pumping heartbeat pounded frantic in his chest, something he could little afford to focus on with his concentration diverted between keeping command of his aching lungs and searching for the Miraluka. Blurry shapes moved about him, aliens at sabacc tables or sipping drinks, but the Odanite found no trace of his target. Doggedly, he kept moving, his steps beginning to stutter.

He needed air—

No! he thought, but it was too late. His mouth had fallen open around a deep, desperate gasp, and his throat and chest and mouth all felt aflame. They burned, and he cried out, a croak lost to the agony in his airways. The floor began to sway, or perhaps he did. He didn't know. All he knew was that his shoulder hit something solid with a soft, muted thud. The floor? Everything had turned on its axis.

His mind drifted, even as part of him shouted for him to get up and run. But he was very dizzy, and the prospect very hard, and he couldn't breathe—

Things faded.

Then, a wave came. Gentle at first. Steady, thrumming ripples, cool and insistent. A heartbeat. If oceans had heartbeats. It lapped at him, lifted him, pushed and pulled. A fortitude washed over him with each wave, and with it, relief. His body ceased to burn inside out, the fires doused. His head grew clear of its corrosive cloud. He gasped reflexively, but he wasn't breathing. Hedidn't need the air with the power flowing through him.

A hand , white, swam into his field of vision. He heard the words, "Take my hand," and he listened, eyes following white boots up to an insistent face, smiling mouth bared in a grimace of effort.

Droveth reached out, their palms slotting together, and she pulled him up. She pulled, like those waves, and he went. They ran, elbowing past patrons and under strobing lights, then finally out the front entrance.

The pair burst onto the street, gasping for air. It was sour with smog, refuse, and sweat from gamblers and perverts, but it was still the sweetest thing Droveth had ever tasted. That foreign strength disappeared as the Miraluka stepped away from him, collapsing at his side, her chest heaving, shoulders slumping.

Droveth quickly glanced around for interlopers. Then, he drew his pistol, spun it around, and clumsily slammed the butt into the back of her skull with a flesh-muffled crack.

She went down bonelessly. He twirled his pistol back around and pressed the muzzle to her temple, squeezing the trigger—

The Human paused. He hurt, but he was alive, likely because of the woman. A woman who had, in retrospect, herself come in the place of a young Knight, despite her position. Surely, it would have made sense to send another, but no. She had come, and she had come back for him when she might have fled.

Droveth grimaced. He holstered his weapons, coughing and wincing as his raw throat stung. Temperance, then. He would bring her to trial instead of executing her. After all, a verdict could still end with as much, and if in the meanwhile the Lotus gained intelligence it wouldn't otherwise have...

The Odanite dragged the limp Arconan aside and pulled out his datapad, not trusting his comm signal. He would report needing transport for two, and then...

Well. Then remained to be seen.