A cesspool of the downtrodden, the Refugee Sector on Nar Shaddaa is home to both the unfortunate and criminals alike. Offering their protection for credits, the criminal organizations that control the sector tax the populace outrageous sums. Unable to provide these fees, refugees are forced to work under hazardous conditions producing glitterstim and adrenals for their overseers. Some of these refugees are addicted to the substances themselves—for which the cartels increase the price of their tithes in exchange for a share of the product.

Crammed with stalls and makeshift hovels, several of the sector’s inhabitants find refuge on the streets and in the alleyways. Those who managed to avoid the dangers of drug production can be found selling their limited and often defective goods to others. Behind these stalls a selective stock of black market wares is hidden, reserved for mercenaries and thugs.

Littered with garbage, it is obvious that no maintenance droids have been programmed to maintain the sector. The surrounding towers have fallen into decay, bits of debris falling every so often into the middle of the street. The duracrete streets are covered in a film of filth and chemicals from the abandoned warehouses, making movement cumbersome when traveling through the most inhabited areas.

Patrols armed with blasters and vibroswords come through these areas regularly, making a show of force to advertise the merits of their ‘protection’ while extorting the occasional shopkeeper. Screams and shouts are a common enough sound, which is never in the refugees’ best interests to interfere in.

Satsi Tameike leaned against the wall, watching through narrowed eyes as her target sauntered through the slums like he owned them. And technically, he did. Martellus Narta was the second in command and heir apparent for the SlumLord Millionaires, the gang that owned this section of the slums. His future was bright; an elderly father who would soon die, and a pack of murderous thugs who would soon be his to command.

But then, he made one crucial error. He started talking, loudly, about his plans for vengeance once he became the leader of his gang. He had been especially vocal about taking his revenge against certain members of Arcona, Uji included. But even that had not been his biggest mistake. His biggest mistake had been allowing those rumors to reach Satsi's ears.

Absently, Satsi caressed the blackened handle of one of her slugthrowers as she considered the street, the people and her target. Martellus was flanked by two of his thugs, with a third one following at a distance. But the streets were crowded, and Satsi had a talent for blending in. She would have little trouble getting close enough for a kill shot. With a feral smile, she began to follow.

“May I have a few minutes of your time, Satsi?”

The Equite froze at the use of her name and turned to see a woman standing a few feet away from her. Though the stranger was cloaked, it was impossible to hide the strands of red hair that framed her face, or her obvious sense of self-importance. Satsi darted a quick glance back at Martellus, not wanting to lose her quarry but also not wanting to turn her back on this new threat.

“Our friend Martellus will not be leaving the planet for a few hours. Unfortunately, his ship is going to encounter some engine trouble that will keep him around for awhile. It will give us time to have a little chat.”

Satsi's eyes narrowed as she turned to look back at the redhead. As she did, two things occurred to her. The first was that she recognized the woman from a photo on the Arconan roster. Lucy or Lucine, something like that.

The second thing she realized was that there was something odd about the situation. Satsi swept her eyes along the street, her hand lingering upon the slugthrower. But aside from the huddled refugees and the occasional whore, there seemed to be nothing amiss. “You're well informed,” she said at last.

“I try to be. But I must admit, you are a hard woman to find,” Lucine replied.

“Well? Spit it out, then. I've got business to attend to,” Satsi snapped as she jerked her head in Martellus's direction.

“That is actually what I wanted to speak with you about. I was hoping to convince you not to kill young Martellus.”

Satsi grinned wryly. “Yeah? Well, you're wasting your time. That kriffing peedunky is gonna die. Tonight.”

“Oh, I agree with you. But it is best if he did not do so here. If he dies here on Nar Shadda, there will be a gang war, and I have an interest in keeping this area peaceful. But if he were to vanish after he left the planet, it would be better for everybody. Martellus's little brother gets control of the Millionaires, Arcona gets a valuable contact, and the man who threatened your brother will be dead. Everybody wins.”

“And I'm supposed to just trust you on that,” Satsi said dryly.

“Things would go more smoothly if you did,” Lucine murmured. “Come. Let us see if we can find some alcohol and have a few drinks.”

Satsi felt the tendrils of the Force brush against her mind, making the idea of a drink sound like a tempting prospect. “Yeah, okay,” she replied automatically, before realizing what she had just said. Damn Sparkfingers! “Sure, that sounds great.”

Lucine gave her a charming smile. “Excellent. In that case—“

The woman's words abruptly were cut off as the Equite raised her slugthrower and fired three slugs in rapid succession. They passed harmlessly through Lucine's chest; a moment later, the illusion vanished.

“Oh, I can't wait to have a chat with you, girl, when all this sithspit is said and done," Satsi seethed, her thin eyes scanning the crowd immediately around her as she lowered her gun, pointing the muzzle at the ground. People had scattered a bit at the gunshots, others turning and looking around, but most just hunched their shoulders and continued. "Few things I wanna ask you. Philosophical questions. Like, 'How's it feel to be dangled out the window of a Nar Shaddan skyscraper by a rope tied around your tits, motherfrakker?”

She pivoted in a circle, gaze sweeping over the rabble, up and around, in nooks and crannies. One thing she'd learned in her time with the clans: most sparky tricks only worked within close or visual range. Odds were, unless this Lucine was real good, she was near enough to have Satsi in her line of sight.

Fiery orange-red flickered like flame.

Satsi's head snapped back to the left, her eyes pinning a pair of emerald ones across the distance of the detrius-ridden street. Lucine's eyes widened, but only for a moment; then, they crinkled, along with her pert nose, in concentration.

And then, she blinked out of view.

"Dammit!" the woman swore, watching a ripple in the air, like the distorted glimmer over a roaring fire, bump into a passerby and reaveal a flicker of the prettily-dressed Force-user before she ducked around a shop corner. Sparky cloaks didn't work out so well for most of them when they moved, but-- "Dammit, dammit, dammit!"

Satsi squinted, but it was no use, not with the other people moving around and her eyes flickering back to Martellus Narta and his escorts every few seconds. There was no way in hell she could track both of them at once. She turned back around, so that she was facing Martellus, who had stopped to preen over some beggars and tell them they were too dirty to kiss his boots, or some sithspit.

Her grip spasmed on her pistol.

Fine, she thought, teeth bared in rage. Fine. Marty over there ain't gonna leave for a few hours? Then that's time for you, you meddling whore.

The former Fade operative had no way to confirm the redhead's words, but the fact was, no matter how badly she wanted to kill Martellus Narta, he was at least a known enemy. This Lucine wasn't, and that made her dangerous. How had she known who Satsi was, and more importantly, how had she known not just what Satsi was doing here, but why she was here? How did Lucine know about Uji, or their relation, or the threats on him? What did she care about some slum on Nar Shadda? What did she want with the younger Narta, and why him and not his brother? Too many questions. Too many karking questions.

Lucine was going to give her some damned answers when Satsi got done breaking all her teeth for that mind-crawling trick she'd pulled earlier.

Snarling, Satsi took her gaze off her target long enough to look around again, checking not only for the other Arconan, but for...

There.

Walking quickly over to a small group of lounging urchin children, Satsi slowed her gait as she approached and they all looked up, gazes wary but sharp and too smart, the way only surviving in the gutter could make them. One of the older ones, a boy with bright eyes popping from his filthy face, stood up and wiped his nose on his arm as when knelt down a foot or so away from him.

"C'mere, kid," she beckoned, letting her voice drop lower, looser, a bit of a slump to her vowels and a bit of a pinch in her throat to make it nasally. The deep Nar Shaddan accent was a filthy one, and it sat crammed in the back of the mouth like she was choking on something, smog or credits or slime. She let her letters slip off like drool from a spice-head's lip, falling as they pleased. "Chu wan' make sm'creds?"

"Mebbe," replied the boy, and she felt herself almost smiling for the way his face went all pearly and appraising and absolutely poison. Tough kid. "Wuhssit chu wan'?"

"Sees 'im?" she asked, jamming her thumb at Martellus Narta. The boy nodded. "Know 'im?" The boy nodded again. "Chu be willin' t'follah 'im fah me?"

He eyed her gun, then the rest of her. "Chu got cred?"

Satsi dug into her pockets. When she pulled her hand out, she opened it to show him a hefty pile of credits. "Tis, an' dubble it when chu come back heah an' tell me where he gone. Yeah?"

The money was out of her hand before she could blink. "Yeah," replied the scrawny, hard-limbed child simply, nudging one of his buddies and nodding at her before they slouched off in Martellus' direction like a couple of little mynocks.

Right then, the woman thought, standing and glancing around again. Your turn, girlie.

She took off towards where she'd last seen the redhead disappear, trying not to make too many ripples in the crowd as she went and fingering her pistol. Five rounds left in that particular clip.

Satsi reached the shop and took stock again, looking up and down the intersection and along the line of the new street. It was a road only by virtue of being flat and accessible to foot traffic, about the size of a pin-drop alley and crammed with piles of unwashed bodies and ramshackle shelters and bazaar-like tents. It was easier to count the ones that weren't actively smoking something than the ones that were.

How in the galaxy was she going to find Lucine?

"Frak," whispered Satsi, but there was nothing to do about it, so she grit her teeth and started forward. The first thing she did was ask the nearest stall owners if they'd seen someone of Lucine's description — nice, well-dressed folks like her just didn't come down here without getting real noticed — and was pointed further down into the bowels of the slums. She kept pausing to ask, but people weren't so chatty when she wasn't buying anything or didn't have death sticks to offer. Credits were no good — they'd say anything once she flashed them.

She was attempting to interrogate a strung-out weapons dealer when someone tapped her shoulder. Satsi spun around, ready to either snap or strike, and then stopped, blinking dumbly.

"Kyodai?" she gasped the nickname, instantly suspicious and relaxed at once. Her mind tickled. Her brother shook his head, dark eyes grave, and gestured to the mouth of an adjacent alleyway.

Uji turned and ghosted that way before she could demand anything else of him, and her mind tickled again. Had he followed her? Why? She was the one taking care of him, he knew she could handle herself…

Satsi stopped, blinked, glared. She'd moved without entirely realizing it, trailing after him. 'Uji' paused a few steps before the alley, quirking a brow back at her.

"I'll give you credit, witch," hissed the scarred woman, lifting her gun and pointing, "you've almost got him half right. Get out of my goddamn head."

"Please, now, Satsi, be reasonable," said Lucine's voice from the construct's mouth, and then suddenly, the illusion was gone, and it was the two women facing one another. "I am trying to work with you, to get the best for both of us. We have interests in the same clan. Why not work with me in this?"

"You wouldn't be trying to trick me if you wanted to work with me," snorted Satsi, cocking the hammer of her weapon.

"I had no intention of deceiving you, I swear it. I just meant to...nudge you along a tad is all, dear. Like a pretty smile for reassurance. It's habitual. Is that truly so bad?" The redhead tucked a curl of hair behind her ear with one manicured finger, appearing for all intents and purposes completely non-threatening. She raised a fine, sculpted brow. "We are both intelligent women who know that sometimes, it is best to use charm instead of roughness, yes?"

"Honey, I don't care how you play your game, you just don't play it on me," Satsi shot back, though she did shift her grip so as so aim her shot at a slightly less vital area. "Why are you here, huh?"

"Well, you see—" Lucine began, but just then someone dumped a bucket out a shoddy window above, spilling a deluge of waste onto the ground and through the redhead. Satsi went rigid.

"Oh, bother," came a voice behind her, and she spun around in time to see yet another Lucine standing there, slightly sweaty and looking upset. "That was going so well," she tsked.

Then, she threw something she had clutched in her hands, and Satsi gave a shout as some grainy powder burst in her face, making her eyes burn and sting and choking her. She coughed and yelped, hunching over and rubbing at her eyes.

"I WILL MURDER YOU!" she screeched as her eyes poured with tears, hearing footsteps retreat quickly down the street and not knowing if she could even trust that much.

Satsi's shrieks of rage echoed behind her as Lucine hurried along the narrow street. So close. She had been so close to getting the Fade to listen to her. But there was no chance of that happening now. Lucine sighed inwardly. She had wanted to get Satsi attention and distract her from her original plan to kill Martellus, and she had been successful in that regard. Perhaps a bit too well. It was highly likely that the Reaver would simply try to kill her when she eventually cleared the blinding dust from her eyes.

Hastily, the redhead scanned her surroundings, trying to come up with a viable plan. Unwashed bodies littered the street, slumping against the crumbling walls or even lying on the detritus-ridden duracrete. Most of the people kept their gaze turned downward, staring through vacant eyes with expressions devoid of hope or emotion. She would find no help there. Even worse, she would be quite conspicuous in this crowd.

The 'buildings' were not much better as they were little more than pieces of rotting cloth fashioned into makeshift shanties. They would offer little in the way of concealment and would provide no protection if Satsi decided to open fire with her slugthrowers.

Lucine briefly considered shrouding herself in an illusion, but a dull headache behind her eyes quickly dissuaded her. She was spreading herself a bit too thin; best to conserve her strength in case the Reaver managed to catch up with her. Instead, she drew her cloak over her head and picked her way down the street as hastily as she could manage, considering plans and backup plans as she moved.

At last, her emerald eyes fell upon one of the decaying towers. She approached the ramshackle structure and peered into the gloom within. The ground was covered with refuse and pieces of broken duracrete, but it seemed that no one had chosen to take shelter within its walls. A quick glance upward showed her why; the ceiling sagged dangerously, held aloft only by two crumbling support beams. It seemed the denizens of the slums would rather sleep in the open air than risk death in a building that was perilously close to collapse.

As Lucine studied the structure, the beginnings of an idea began to take shape in her mind. Satsi's profile indicated that she had a legendary temper and a tendency for extreme violence. As angry as she was, it was unlikely that she would simply let Lucine walk away from their little encounter. But Lucine was determined to complete her task and see to it that Martellus Narta made it off Nar Shaddaa alive. Thoughtfully, she drew her lightsaber as she settled upon a course of action. There was simply nothing for it. One of them was going to have to die.

---

Blood. Pain. These were the thoughts that were foremost on Satsi's mind as she scrubbed away the blinding dust and scanned the street with bloodshot eyes. She was going to find that karking redheaded whore, and make her answer every single question the Reaver had. And then she was going to break every bone in her body. Slowly, and with great enthusiasm.

Though her vision was still blurred, she barely made out a flicker of crimson as a distant figure disappeared into one of the towers. The Equite started toward the structure, even as doubt gnawed at her mind. What if this was yet another trick? As quickly as the thought arose, Satsi pushed it aside. Every sparkfinger had limits, and that kriffing svaper had to be reaching the end of hers.

Still, she approached the edifice cautiously, studying it carefully. It was not difficult to see why the redhead would choose to hide out here; the small size of the decaying building would make it difficult for Satsi to effectively use her slugthrowers. The Reaver had to admit, it wasn't a bad strategy. But the downside was that it would also make it harder to wield a lightsaber. Which meant the fighting would be just the way Satsi liked it: up close and personal.

The Equite peered into the darkness within the tower. At first glance, it appeared there was no one there, but she was certain she had seen someone slip inside. So Lucine was either wasting her resources trying to make Satsi think she had gone in, or she was trying to hide in the shadows using her sparky cloak trick. Satsi was betting on the latter. She allowed herself a feral grin as she holstered her slugthrower, before stepping into the gloom.

The air hung heavy with the stench of despair and human waste. The Reaver picked her way carefully across the rubble-strewn floor as she searched for any signs of her prey. Her ears pricked as she heard what she thought was the sound of breathing coming from the empty space beside one of the support beams. There.

Satsi allowed her eyes to pass over the spot where she thought Lucine was hiding as she made a slow circuit around the room. As she drew nearer to the beam, a shadowy figure materialized from thin air and raised a blaster in the Reaver's direction. With a burst of speed, Satsi crossed the space between them, lashing out with a right hook that impacted squarely against her foe's jaw. Lucine gave a cry of pain as the blaster clattered harmlessly to the ground.

“What's the matter? All out of sparky mind tricks?” Satsi sneered as she drove her fist into the redhead's stomach. Lucine sank to the ground with a groan, but the Reaver was far from finished. Hastily, she kicked the blaster further away, before bringing her boot heavily down upon the redhead's grasping right hand. Satsi could not help but to smile grimly at the crunch of breaking bones and Lucine's choked cry of pain. “Think maybe you wanna answer some of my questions now?”

“I do not make a habit of giving information for free,” Lucine gasped as she clutched her mangled hand to her chest.

The Reaver responded with a swift kick to the Sith's side, reveling in the snap of shattering ribs as her foot connected. “I think you might wanna make an exception this time.”

The kick had knocked the wind out of her foe. The Reaver took a step back, waiting for Lucine to catch her breath even as she watched her suspiciously for any more tricks.

“All right,” the Sith wheezed at last. “I will... answer your... questions.”

“Damn right you will,” Satsi snapped. “Starting with the last question I asked you. Why're you here?”

Lucine took a deep, agonized breath. But before she could speak, a faint scuffling sound drew Satsi's attention toward the entrance. The urchin child she had hired to keep an eye on Martellus stood just within the door, studying the scene through veiled eyes. “Bad time?”

Satsi cast a quick glance down at Lucine, but the redhead showed no signs of having any fight in her. She turned her attention back to the kid as she took a step toward him. “Nah. Wha chu got f'me?”

“Th'guy wen t'th spaceport,” the urchin said as he drew a bit nearer though he carefully kept out of Satsi's reach. “Wan' m'cred.”

The Reaver nodded slowly, as the information confirmed what she had already suspected. But there was still the matter of the 'engine trouble' Lucine had alluded to earlier. “Yeah. Yeah, good.” She reached into her pocket and withdrew a few credit chips. As the urchin snatched them out of her hand, the sudden SNAP-HISS of an igniting lightsaber caused Satsi to snap her attention back to the redhead.

Lucine had managed to haul herself to her feet and was now leaning heavily against the support beam, her emerald blade hanging limply at her side. “You wanted to know why I am here? I am here as a distraction,” she wheezed as she lifted the blade.

“Sithspit!” the Reaver snarled as she snatched her slugthrower from her holster. But before she could fire a shot, Lucine pushed herself away from the column, shearing her blade through the duracrete support as she moved away from it.

There was no time to think. Acting purely on instinct, Satsi grabbed the kid by the arm and dove for the door as dust and rubble began to rain from above. They tumbled out onto the street moments before the ceiling caved in with a thunderous roar.

“Frakkin' lunatic!” the Equite shrieked as she turned back to peer through the dust at ruins of the tower. The loss of the support beam had caused the front of the building to crumble, though the intact column had allowed a small part of the building to remain standing. It was unlikely the redhead had survived the ceiling falling in, but Satsi was leaving nothing to chance. Gripping the blackened slugthrower, she waited just long enough for some of the dust to clear before ducking into the ruins.

It did not take her long to find what remained of the Sith. Apparently, Lucine had tried to take shelter in the part of the tower where the remaining support column had still stood, but she had not made it. The redhead lay still upon the ground, with a large piece of duracrete impaled through her chest. Her green eyes were wide and unblinking, her face set in a final expression of shock. A single line of blood ran from her mouth, matching the crimson pool that slowly spread beneath her.

Satsi gave a low whistle at the sight of her fallen foe. It was a nasty way to go, even if the meddling whore had brought it upon herself. Yet as she turned to leave, Lucine's final words echoed within her mind. A distraction. And Martellus was at the port. What if—

Satsi froze, her eyes widening with a sudden realization. What if Martellus hadn't actually been delayed? Cursing, the Reaver took off for the port in a dead sprint.

As the Equite’s footsteps faded into the distance, the rock shard that protruded from Lucine's chest faded away. The look of shock on the Sith's face faded too, replaced by a small, exhausted smile. Her hand and jaw throbbed with pain, and the very act of breathing brought fresh spasms of agony. The edges of her vision blurred as unconsciousness threatened to overtake her. She closed her eyes, willing herself to remain consciouss.

With the last of her strength, she drew upon her pain to begin the slow task of healing. It was a good thing that Satsi now thought her dead; Lucine would most certainly not be going anywhere for a long time while she waited for her wounds to mend.

---

Fessic knelt in the shadow of the SoruSuub 3000 Space Yacht and checked his chrono for what felt like the hundredth time. Just a few more minutes, he told himself. Just a few more minutes and I'll be free.

He still was not entirely certain how he had gotten into so much trouble in the first place. Usually, he was pretty good at sabacc. But then one night, he had lost big at the tables. So he had borrowed some credits, knowing that his luck would soon turn around. And when those credits were gone, he had borrowed some more to get back the money he had lost. Before long, he had found himself in debt to his lekku to one of the most dangerous loan sharks on Nar Shaddaa.

But then, he was approached by a pretty redhead with an offer: place a small package aboard Martullus Narta's ship, and all of those ugly debts would disappear. Fessic was no fool; he had an idea of what the package was.

But the thought of finally being free of all of his debts had been too tempting. It would be easy for him to accomplish the task; he had served as the Narta's mechanic for years. In the end, he had taken the deal, and the package.

Freedom, the Twi'lek thought wistfully. Soon, he would not have to worry about being beaten to death by the loan shark's goons in a back alley. After this, he swore, he would never go near the sabacc tables again.

“What are you doing?”

An angry voice snapped Fessic out of his daydream. He yelped in surprise and looked up to find Martellus Narta looming over him. The young crime lord wore an expression of impatience, his thin lips twisted into a snarl.

“N-nothing!” Fessic squeaked, as Martellus seized him by the front of his shirt and threw him against the side of the ship.

“You're damned right about that,” Martellus growled. “An hour ago you told me there was something wrong with the rear thrusters. Now I find you sitting around. So, is the problem fixed, or are you just wasting my time?”

“It's fixed! It's all fixed!” the Twi'lek squealed.

Narta glared at Fessic. “It damned well better be. My time is more valuable than your puny little life, and I don't like when it's wasted.”

“I promise, Mister Narta, sir! It's all done!”

“Good,” Narta snapped. He released Fessic's shirt and shoved him roughly aside. “Now get the hell outta my sight.”

The Twi'lek scampered away with all of the pride of a kicked puppy. Yet he could not help but to watch with morbid curiosity as Martellus boarded the yacht, accompanied by his pilot. The engines engaged, and soon enough the ship began its slow ascent.

Only then the Fessic allow himself to grin. He was free.

His celebration was cut short when a dark-haired woman skidded to a halt nearby. She looked up at the ship and gave a scream of rage as the thrusters kicked in, propelling the yacht into the atmosphere.

As the blue atmosphere began to give way to the velvety blackness of space, Martellus allowed himself to look down at Nar Shaddaa. He had to admit that he had enjoyed making that Twi'lek scum grovel. It wouldn't be long before he would have the power to bring even more people to their knees.

As Martellus turned his thoughts to the power he would soon wield, the timer in the package ticked downward until it finally reached zero. The contents of the package exploded, triggering a second, larger explosion as the thrusters were consumed in the conflagration. The force of the blast tore through the hull, consuming the ship, the pilot and Martellus Narti in a matter of seconds. For the briefest of moments, the fire bloomed within the darkness; a pale imitation of the stars that flickered coldly in the distance.

Below, Satsi watched through wide eyes as the explosion consumed the ship in its entirety. One thing was for certain; Marty would not be walking away from that. As shrapnel began to rain down upon the tarmac, the Reaver finally found the words to express her thoughts concerning the events of the evening. “That bitch! That utter frakkin’ bitch! He was mine to kill!”

She pelted out into the main street after the redhead, gray and white starbursts blurring her vision and tears drying in cool streaks from the wind on her face. She looked up and down the thoroughfare with a snarl, spotting an unfocused smudge of scarlet and turquoise.

Lucine was far ahead of her, but evidently too busy making a strategic retreat to try hiding herself. Her escape and Satsi's pursuit were hampered by the tight quarters and press of bodies and leering, hungry eyes. The ex-gangster growled and bulled ahead in her target's stumbling wake, holstering her gun and bodily shoving people out of her way. She watched Lucine's blurry arm lift out to her side as she scampered, pausing long enough every few steps to pull down tarps from over stalls or dislodge stacks of crates, ripping free rusted shutters or bars with an invisible hand. Satsi dodged around one flung projectile and swore as a mess of garbage "magically" toppled over on top of her, staggering her under its weight and flurry. She gagged on the sudden wave of putrid, rotting stink, stumbling and stomping free.

Flinging a peel of something out of her hair, Satsi gave an inarticulate shriek of rage and barreled on at a dead sprint, vaulting over the various debris meant to slow her. Up ahead of her, the Sith yelped and darted for the mouth of the alley.

She wasn't fast enough. Satsi launched herself forward and tackled the redhead around the waist, carrying them both to the ground with an unimaginably satisfying shout and thump on Lucine's part. Their arms tangled as they tumbled over, skidding into the metallic curb, and there was a shout of some nearby hermit or spice dealer or someone, but Satsi didn't care; she'd landed on top. Satsi used the opportunity to roll the woman over and quickly straddle her chest, locking both her strong legs on either side of the redhead's arms and bearing her weight down on her sternum. The position choked off more of the Knight's air, putting too much pressure on her ribcage. Her fingers scrabbled uselessly at the ground where they were trapped, and she kicked furiously but futilely — her knees brushed Satsi's back a few times, but the jabs were almost unnoticeable. She had no leverage, and Satsi was just out of reach.

Bright, gorgeous emerald eyes wide and hard with the panicked focus of an animal fighting for its life stared up at her, and the expression warmed Satsi's homicidal heart. The feeling was a visceral thrill, rushing up her spine like molten sugar. It coiled in her lower belly and roared in her ears until her fuzzy vision tinted red at the edges. The scarred woman bared her teeth.

"You will...get...off of...me—" Lucine tried to command, brows contorted in agonized concentration, as if trying to think through a splitting migraine.

Oh, no you don't, sparky.

Cocking her arm back, Satsi hammered a chambered fist into the other woman's face that crushed and spread her perfect nose across her cheekbones. Blood sprayed on Satsi's fists, all over Lucine's freckled skin, on Satsi's lips. She could smell it and taste it and, right then, didn't care if she died in the next second under a hail of Nar Shaddan gangster gunfire so long as her last moments could be spent with her teeth in Lucine's throat.

So, she hit her again.

Blood, mucus, and spittle spurted over her knuckles, slimy and thick. Lucine gurgled in pain, eyes screwed shut and pouring with tears. Broken noses always did do that.

"Hey now, no choking on me, not yet, darling," Satsi sneered, gripping the Knight's jaw and wrenching her head sideways so that she wouldn't drown on her own viscera. "Spit," she ordered, shaking the other woman slightly when she just coughed and convulsed and whimpered. "Spit! I know it hurts, pretty eyes, but you'll suffocate if you don't."

Either Lucine listened or her body's smarter survival instincts took over, because she gagged and sputtered, mouthfuls of snot and blood sliding out of her mouth as best they could without her rolling all the way onto her side. Satsi spared a quick glance around as her victim recovered, squinting her irritated eyes. The people nearest them had cleared off, and others were very studiously acting as if they saw nothing, so as to not invite attention themselves. They probably thought she was one of Martellus Narta's enforcers, doling out a mobster's justice.

They weren't entirely wrong.

Lucine was still struggling when she glanced back down — hasn't she ever been in a good fight before? Lush girl, probably not — and so Satsi rolled her bloodshot eyes and moved to help the wench, forcing two crooked fingers into the redhead's mouth and sweeping back, as if fishing. She palmed the clot of red mucus and flung it aside as her target wheezed and coughed.

"Are we all better yet, dearie?" mocked the former Fade, drawing one of her knives.

Lucine was still crying, her whole face going purplish as her pancaked nose swelled up, but she still managed a too-proud, red-lipped smile that was more like a grimace.

"J-just...gra-and… Darling," the Force-User hiccuped out, coughing again. "...ift...u-up…if..."

Satsi obliged her, leveraging herself just slightly back, abdomen tensing as she resettled some of her weight. Though still trapped, Lucine gasped in a deep breath. Then another. And another. Then, she tried to kick again, plowing her knee into the ex-gangster's lower back. Satsi jolted with the sudden, stabbing ache and growled, pressing down again. Lucine hissed, frustration and pain open and evident on her previously cool features.

"So you've still got enough energy to be stupid. Fantastic. Means you can talk. Now, I don't want to have to torture you to get you to tell me what I want to know, since you're like to say anything to make it stop. So," Satsi leaned forward enough to mouth at the redhead's ear, lips and teeth grazing the lobe as she whispered, "don't make me."

She felt the fine tremor of revulsion that ran through Lucine's entire body.

"Wh-atever do...you w-want to...know, darling?" the younger Arconan asked, voice respectably even considering how nasally it had gone. The former Fade drew back slightly and tapped the woman's cheek with the flat of her blade, drawing a flinch.

"Tell me what you're doing here and what you want with me and mine."

"...s...for...Ol'Val," Lucine grunted out. "I am...here to convi..convince the y-younger brother to...move wares...through…our port. Martel...Martellus won't deal...with us. Too pr-proud."

"And Uji?"

"Not my...concern. Just yours, d...darling. It is only good...sense, to make oneself...f-familar with th-those arou...around her. I have...responsibilities. To Arcona. It is only...right, practical that I make it my bus...business to know my...clanmates. As many of them...as possible. That includes my f-former Proconsul...How ignorant and irresponsible...would I be if I...didn't learn of him? That is how I know you."

Satsi's eyes narrowed. "You weren't around last I was, I know that, and Uji was out of that job long before I got back. You'd have no reason to make the connection or know kark about me."

"My dear...he may have, oh...departed his pos-position, but that do...does not mean he was not still...prudent to keep track of. And you, dar...ling, are not parti-particularly subtle. Please, I— I am...only looking out for...the clan's well being, all of...ours—"

"Oh, cut your silver-tongued sithspit, you miserable frakking trollop, I'm not buying any 'for the clan' crap today. That's always the excuse."

"It is...only true…"

Satsi felt something squirm against her inner thigh.

The scarred woman went tense like beskar, tightening her legs and jerking her blade against the redhead's throat hastily, pressing hard. A weeping red line followed, and Lucine gasped. Satsi's free hand scrambled behind her, reaching between them and yanking free the lightsaber Lucine had gotten her fingers around. She snarled, tossing it aside, then turned her glare back on her captive.

"Bad. Move. Just one more reason I'm going enjoy carving you up, sparkfinger. Mess with my family, crawl in my head with your magic like you have any right. You're going to regret that today."

The Knight's swollen lips twitched. "Does a...bird not have a right...to fly? A fish to...swim? The fact is...tha-that there's a natural order to things. Some...are born with gifts that give them...advantages over others. It would be irresponsible...wasteful to let those gifts go t— to waste due to no...notions of 'fairness' or 'rights.' I assure you, darling... I am neither irr-irr...esponsible nor...wasteful."

"Guess I better not waste my gifts, then."

Lucine seemed to pale further, her honeyed attempt, already hampered by her being an utter mess, wilting. With no small hint of desperation, the woman cried out, "A-Atyiru would not approve of this!"

"Atyiru isn't here," Satsi snarled softly, smirking. Without another word, she smashed her left elbow into the other Arconan's temple, watching green eyes roll back. The body under her went completely slack.

The ex-gangster waited a moment, glancing all around again and debating whether or not murdering Lucine would be worth the tantrum their Consul would kick up, before she removed her dagger from the redhead's throat. Then, she bent closer.

"Frak with me, witch, frak up my day, frak up my job, throw frakking dust in my face, I'll frakkin' show you," she grumbled to herself as she worked, one hand titling Lucine's head back and pushing back her lips while the other carefully dug the tip of Satsi's dagger into her victim's gums. She worked it back and forth with grisly care, until her bloody fingers could pry free their slippery prize with a tiny, wet sucking sound. Satsi smiled viciously as she held up the canine close to her face to see clearly, then pocketed it and moved for the upper tooth on the other side of Lucine's mouth.

When she was done, she stood up, groaning for the way her back muscles protested their treatment, and sheathed her blade, wiping her palms on her pants. While the section's denizens had given her space to finish up her "business," surely the SlumLord Millionaires would soon realize they had no idea who the hell she was, and would inevitably start asking who thought they could go around cutting up people in their territory besides them. Satsi needed to get back to shooting Narta in the back of the head, before she lost her chance entirely.

The former Fade spared the unconscious woman on the ground a single glance — even with her face mostly swollen and her gorgeous smile ruined, she was still a warm body, and a shapely one at that — before she gave a dark chuckle and walked away. Breathing deeply to slow her blood, Satsi put Lucine out of her mind and went backtracking for the last place she'd seen Narta's people and the kid she'd paid.

She'd wait twenty minutes at most for him to show if he wasn't already there looking for her, and then she was blowing this slimehole for the port. She could catch Martellus boarding his ship if she had to. One way or another, that man was going to die today.

He had, after all, made one crucial error…