A cesspool of the downtrodden, the Refugee Sector on Nar Shaddaa is home to both the misfortunate 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.

Areticus stalked along the narrow streets of the Nar Shaddaa refugee sector, retracing his steps of the path he had taken only minutes before. The streets were crowded this day as the destitute shuffled about, doing whatever it was they did with their lives. Areticus did his best to ignore them; he was searching for someone in particular. His mouth was pressed into a thin line of irritation as he scanned the narrow alleys in search of his quarry.

For months he had been researching a holocron that was once part of Grakkus the Hutt's collection. After numerous interviews and countless hours spent in research, he had managed to pinpoint its location and had secured the holocron for himself. He had been so eager to return to his ship to study it that he had taken a shortcut through the slums. He had initially thought nothing of the Togruta who had bumped into him rather roughly; it was only after he emerged from the Refugee Sector that he realized that the holocron was no longer safely tucked away in one of the hidden pockets of his cloak.

“He cannot have gotten far,” the Plagueian muttered to himself as he continued his search. “There is no way that insolent churl knows what he has. He is probably hidden away in some filthy alley trying to figure it out at this present moment.”

As the minutes passed, Areticus could feel himself growing more and more frantic. He had nearly reached the end of the street when his blue eyes fell upon the familiar Togruta, chatting with a curvaceous redhead in a nearby alley. He sighed in relief, knowing that his prize was nearly recovered.

As he pushed through the mass of humanity to approach the mouth of the alley, he saw the pale woman show the Togruta something on her datapad. A moment later, he dropped a pyramidal holocron into her outstretched hand.

“Pleasure doin' business wit' ya, luv,” the Togruta said with a leer.

“Oh, believe me, darling, the pleasure was all mine,” the woman replied with a pleasant smile as the holocron disappeared within the folds of her cloak.

Areticus had seen quite enough. “You there! That is my property and you will return it to me immediately!” Both the Togruta and the woman looked up at him as he stormed into the alley, closing the distance between them.

“I thought you said you had lost him,” the redhead said, glancing at her partner with a look of annoyance.

“Thou' I had,” the Togruta replied with a shrug. The woman tsked under her breath and shook her head in response.

“Did you not hear me?” Areticus snapped. He drew upon his anger and frustration, and used it and his full concentration to augment his words. “I said return that holocron to me at once!”

The redhead's eyes widened as the weight of his words settled upon her. But instead of moving to obey, she simply cocked her head at him as she lifted one perfectly sculpted brow. “Go on, darling, I will take care of this,” she said to the Togruta.

The thief took off down the narrow side street in a run, and Areticus let him go. His focus was only on the holocron and the woman who currently had it in her possession. She must be strong-willed to have been able to overcome my suggestion. I will have to take a more direct approach, the Plagueian decided as his fingers closed around the hilt of his lightsaber. “Do you have any idea what it is you have there?” he sneered as he drew nearer.

“Oh, yes! A Sith holocron, possibly full of delicious secrets and forbidden lore. I assure you, darling, I have so many wonderful plans for it!” The woman offered him a brilliant smile.

“If you know what it is, then you know how valuable it is,” the Knight said through gritted teeth. He unclipped the lightsaber from his belt and activated it. The blade flared to light, casting its glow upon the filthy walls of the alley.

“A Force user? Oh, my!” the woman exclaimed, her brilliant smile never leaving her face. “Are you planning to use that on me, darling?”

“If I must,” Areticus growled. “I will say it one last time. Return the holocron to me, now!”

The redhead lifted one hand to brush a scarlet curl behind her ear, making an unusual twist with her fingers as she did so. “Really, darling, there is no need for all that. A big, strong man like you could easily handle a lady such as myself without resorting to such barbaric tactics. How about if you throw that lightsaber of yours out onto the street? I am certain we could find more... entertaining ways to settle our differences.” The wicked gleam in her eyes gave him a clear indication of what her idea of entertainment would be.

Areticus narrowed his eyes as he studied the woman closely. She did not have any weapons in her hands, and she did not seem like much of a threat. In a way, she was right. He was a gentleman, a scholar and a Sith. He did not need a lightsaber to best her. Without another thought, he deactivated his weapon and lobbed it out of the alley, onto the crowded street behind him.

His eyes widened as he realized what he had done, and the woman's smirk told him that she was the reason for his strange behavior.

“Thank you, darling, that was oh so kind,” the woman purred. “Now, if you will excuse me, I will take my holocron and be on my way.” As she spoke, she started toward the street, apparently intending to brush past him.

But he was determined not to let his prize get away so easily. He quickly dropped into a stance with his knees slightly bent, before lashing out with a closed fist at the woman's jaw. She brought her arm up to block, narrowly avoiding being punched by a hair's breadth. She leapt back, settling on the balls of her feet as she narrowed her eyes at him. “You would strike a lady?” she asked, clearly annoyed.

“You are not a lady,” Areticus replied tightly.

The redhead made no verbal response; instead she darted forward, aiming an open-handed strike at his throat. The Plagueian turned the blow aside, before stepping back to avoid a kick to the knee. It was clear the woman had some training, but she was not as skilled in the martial arts as he was.

The woman took a step back, clearly coming to the same conclusion he had. “Well,” she said after a breath. “You are a marvelous dancer, but it really is time for me to leave.”

“Of course,” Areticus replied with mocking politeness. “But the holocron stays.”

The redhead tsked softly, before nodding her head. “Of course, darling. I know when I am outclassed.” She reached a hand into her cloak pulled out the artifact. Areticus could not help but to grin, pleased that he would soon be reunited with his prize. However, as her hands closed upon it, he noticed that there was something unusual about the engravings on its side.

“Here you go!” the woman said cheerfully as she lobbed the pyramidal object at his face. The Plagueian instinctively brought his hand up to catch it and was surprised when the holocron exploded into a fine dust that stung his eyes. As the tears welled up, he became aware of the sound of boot heels retreating deeper into the alley.

Perfect day to forget your helmet, Areticus growled to himself. He kept his eyes closed and let the tears do it’s work, thinking if he’d rub his eyes it would only make things worse. Areticus brought up his wrist and blindly turned on his scan pulse and his datapad. He then wirelessly connected the two devices and brought up a tracking program from memory. The pulses given by his scanner brought an immense amount of pings from the crowd, making it seemingly impossible to identify his target in particular. This is where the Force had to come in.

Eyes still closed, Areticus walked forward. He listened to his instincts and weaved through the crowd smoothly. He then made the attempt to remember the sound of her footsteps. They were in short bursts with light taps, meaning she used the balls of her feet. It would serve as an initial escaping sprint, but not for long distance. He kept his datapad tracker close, hovering his hand over the multitude of pings and listened for an individual ping that possessed a decelerating frequency. He trusted the Force when he reached out not to her, but the holocron. He searched for the presence of the Dark Side nearby him. With his intuition guiding his hand, he pressed on a singly dot out of the many on his datapad tracker and continued his path down an alleyway.

Elsewhere

The debutante weaved her way across the alley. She was careful to avoid all of the filth that littered the walkway. Although the coast seemed to be clear, Lucine wasn’t the type to take chances. She ran her fingers through her hair and its color changed from the light auburn locks into a dark raven hue. With a blink of her eyes the emerald pupils became a deep medium gold. Finally, she transitioned her skin from smooth porcelain into a sleek bronze. Although the new look required her full focus, it would certainly keep any unwanted tracker off her trail. She straightened her back, and walked with elegance into a street filled with market stalls. Vendors attempted to gain her attention, offering wares of cheap fabrics, fake jewelry, and the vices of a lowlife. She did her best to ignore them, offering some with at least a respectful decline. However a certain charm did catch her attention from a display owned by an old woman and her protective son. It was a small hair pin, with a design that was aesthetic in its simplicity.

“My dear, that would look lovely on you!” Areticus said with a smile right next to her and set down a hefty sum of credits on the stall table, “We’ll take it.”

Lucine’s instinctual reaction was to pull away, however she was subtlety kept still with Areticus’ grip at her wrist behind her back and his foot between hers. “Oh darling, you are always so good to me.”

“Of course, sweetheart. Though I must say, I believe it would go well with your previous hair color. That delicate tint that reminded me of the orange sunsets of Naboo.” Areticus ran his fingers along her hair, which made Lucine even more worried, “You had it when we first met, do you recall?”

“Of course darling,” she replied to keep public appearances, “I also remember our first dance. You held me like so...” Lucine turned to face him, and lifted the arm which held his grip on her wrist. Her other hand thrusted up at the back of his raised wrist with her palm, casing his grip to loosen. Areticus stepped forward in attempts to feign a side sweep. She took the bait with a step backwards, only to witness his foot repeating the same. Lucine took another step back, and Areticus took another step forward. He gently placed a hand on her hip, and met her other hand with his. She raised a brow in confusion with a slight smile, Does actually he intend to dance? Madam Vasano performed an underarm twirl and dropped her altered glamour in the spin. The display awed the nearby vendors and the surrounding crowd.

“Shall we put on a show?” Areticus suggested with a smile.

“If you know how to lead, I know how to follow,” Lucine replied with a courtesy.

Areticus took the hand on her hip and moved to strike at the solar plexus, only to see his dance partner perform another underarm twirl to avoid it. While she kept her right hand met with his left, she replied with a left knife hand strike to the soft part his right armpit. Areticus reacted with pulling his elbow in and bringing her close. His left arm came in between her right arm and rib cage, to where he lifted till his hand caught the back of her shoulder. With a clockwise sidestep, he pressed down on the back of her shoulder and put her in a hold with her torso lowered and right arm raised straight along his left pectoral. He then brought his right hand to lock her wrist in place. The hold held her down, but with aid in the Force, she managed a front flip forward that freed her. She then performed another twirl that kept the two at arms length away from each other, held only by their hands meeting. The crowd around them gave small applause of amusement and wonder. As the two Sith fought, all those around them simply saw a young couple dancing; each strike was appeared as a stride, and each change in grip was perceived as a rehearsed gallivant display.

“I believe we got off on the wrong foot my dear,” Areticus said with long breaths to calm his heart rate, “I did not know what to expect when coming in such a place, certainly not a woman of your caliber. I wish to apologize for my abrupt behavior, and would like to present an offer I hope you will find to your likeness.”

Lucine curled a smile, “I’m listening…”

“Well,” Areticus said as he used his grip on her hand to pull her closer. She tensed, prepared to defend against another blow, but his hand only settled on the small of her back in a more traditional dancing pose. “The underlying problem is that there is two of us, but only one holocron.”

“I do believe I am following your logic so far,” Lucine said dryly as she matched his box step before allowing him to lead her in a graceful promenade chasse. “You dance quite well, darling. But what is your proposal?”

“I propose this. We will review the contents of the holocron together, and then you return it to me. Once I have completed my research, then you may have it back for whatever it is you had planned for it,” the Plagueian replied. As they shifted into a natural turn, he saw her hand drop down to her belt. Her fingers closed around the hilt of a vibrodagger moments before his hand closed around her wrist in a firm grip. “Please, my dear, let’s keep this civil.”

The Arconan reluctantly released the dagger and once again rested her hand on his shoulder. Looking past him, she noticed the old woman and her protective son, watching them in amusement. She knew an opportunity when she saw it. “Well, that does sound like an interesting proposal. I have three arguments against it, as well as a counter offer.”

“Oh?”

“First, while you seem to be quite charming, I have no assurances that you will actually give the holocron to me when you have finished with it,” Lucine said as they moved to music that only the Plagueian could hear.

“You have my word as a gentleman that I would do so,” Areticus replied smoothly.

“Hmm,” Lucine gave him a look that made it clear that she did not believe him. “Second, I do not see why you should be the first to take the holocron. You may have spent time researching and locating it, but I also invested time and effort doing so. Never mind the number of favors I used in order to find it.”

“It’s just that my research hinges upon the secrets that the holocron contains. I would just as soon not delay my findings,” Areticus said with a note of apology in his voice as he took a few steps backward in a flawless back whisk.

Lucine smiled wryly. To Areticus, it seemed that her reaction was in response to his words, though in reality it was because the dance move had placed him that much closer to the old woman’s display. “Well, darling, your point is moot due to my third point. I am afraid I do not have the holocron anymore. I already handed it off to my buyer.”

“Y-you what?!” the Plagueian gasped. He searched her face for any sign that she was lying, but found none. “You sold it?!”

“Of course, darling. My buyer was already planetside, awaiting me at a pre-arranged spot. Why else do you think I would actually stop to examine some bauble at a market? It would have been most unwise to do so if I still had the holocron on me, especially knowing that you were searching for me! But do not forget, I do have a counter offer!”

“What?” the Plagueian asked. He frowned as the Force whispered a warning. His hand slid around to her waist, where her blaster was holstered.

She offered him a pleasant smile, even as she reached out with her senses to feel the icy touch of the Dark Side of the Force. Drawing on its power, she pushed outward with her hands, intending to send him careening into the elderly woman’s stall. But at the last moment Areticus dodged, pulling the blaster from its holster as he did so. He quickly regained his balance before leveling the weapon at her. “If that was your counter offer, I’m not impressed,” he said coolly.

The appearance of a weapon drew the attention of those nearest them. The bubble of space around them widened as the denizens of the slums hastily moved out of the way of any potential blaster fire.

“Well, you cannot blame me for trying,” Lucine said cheerfully.

“My dear, I must admit that I have enjoyed our little dance, but I am afraid this is where we must part ways. If you would be so kind as to return the holocron now, I will be on my way,” Areticus said, trying to be gallant despite the fact that he had a weapon trained on her.

“I already told you, darling, it is long gone,” she said.

“Still, you cannot blame me for being thorough. I will simply have to take your cloak, just to be certain,” the Plagueian replied, his aim never wavering.

“Indeed, I cannot. But yet I do not think you will shoot me,” she said serenely.

“I'm quickly running out of patience. What makes you so certain?” the Plagueian asked in a frustrated tone.

“Well, partly because I know you to be a gentleman,” Lucine purred, “but also because I left the safety on.”

Hastily, Areticus looked down at the blaster in his hand. He fumbled with the unfamiliar weapon but found that the safety was, in fact, off. He looked up to see that she was now on the run, pushing through the crowd as quickly as she could. With a sigh of irritation, he drew upon the Force to augment his own muscles, before taking off after her.

The press of people kept her from moving quickly, so she turned down the first alley she encountered. Her footsteps tapped a rapid staccato as she passed piles of detritus and the slumped forms of the destitute. She could hear the sound of pursuit behind her and knew that the Plagueian was managing to keep up.

At last, she reached a deserted stretch of the alley and skidded to a halt. She whirled, unclipping her lightsaber from her belt before igniting it. In a single smooth motion, she fell into a familiar stance, with the plasma blade held above her head and parallel to the filthy ground while her right hand was stretched in front of her.

Areticus stopped a few feet away and once again raised the blaster. This time, he did not bother to speak, instead squeezing the trigger and sending a bolt of red plasma in her direction. It fell short, searing into the ground in front of her.

The Arconan smiled, her stance never wavering. “Do you even know how to use that?” she asked impishly.

Areticus did not reply. He desperately wished that he still had his lightsaber, but would simply have to make do with the unfamiliar weapon. He focused his attention on aiming before once again pulling the trigger. The blaster bolt arrowed toward the Sith woman’s chest, only to be deflected as she angled the blade downward. The bolt bounced off of the emerald blade and sped back toward the Plagueian, drawing a cry of pain from him as it burned into his knee. He dropped to the ground, clutching his wounded leg as the blaster clattered to the ground next to him.

Lucine gestured toward herself, and the weapon sailed toward her. She caught it, before offering Areticus a sweet smile. “Oh, I do hope there are no hard feelings, darling. It is just business, after all. I am certain that someday, we will look back on this and laugh.” With that, she turned and walked away, the holocron creating a satisfying weight in her pocket as she walked.

Before Areticus could begin his proposal, Lucine turned and took off in a dead sprint.

“Really?!” Areticus called out in a huff and followed after her.

Lucine and Areticus both darted through the surrounding crowd until they were able to turn into an emptied street away from the market. Although random bystanders would come and go nearby, the only civilians who lingered were the passed out drunk and homeless. “Please madam,” Areticus called out in a slowing pant, “Let us discuss this with civility.”

“Of course, handsome,” Lucine proclaimed with the blazing glow of her lightsaber, “But not until we’ve finished our dance.”

Areticus gave a small smirk and ignited his own blade, “When I was trying to find you, I focused my thoughts on the presence of the Dark Side surrounding the Holocron. Little to my surprise did I find that I was mistaken in my investigation, for it was you I had sensed all along. I’ll admit, I did not expect to find two priceless treasures in Nar Shadaa.”

“If your fighting skill is as good as your charm, I may give you the option of taking one of them home,” Lucine said with a bite of her lip.

The two Sith approached and began their second performance with a whirl of their blades that met in a cross at the center. With his right foot forward, Areticus feigned a light tap at her blade and advanced into a lunge aimed at the center of her chest. Lucine replied with a counter-clockwise spin that redirected his attack. Areticus took a side step to his left and performed the series of light swings to the quarte, sixte, septime, and octave of the torso. His opponent was able to deflect each of them with a fan around each targeted area. Areticus halted and relaxed into his en garde stance and took note of Lucine awaiting him with a refined stance of her own. The position of her feet didn’t register to him as anything noteworthy, but the grip around the edge of the hilt of her blade explained to him the method of spinning away from his attacks. Areticus waited to see if she would strike, but she did not stir from her defensive stance at all. She was going to wait for the right moment to strike, once Areticus had given her an opening. To disarm her would only give her cause to run again, and to subdue her with an injury looked to be harder than he anticipated.

To the end of their brief intermission, Areticus initiated a flurry of assaults. Most of his attacks were light at the grip and quick on the wrist to test her reaction. He would ever so often throw in a feign with a followed remise to see if she was quick and smart enough to counter them. To his unfortunate surprise, she was well versed and evenly matched in defense as Areticus was in strategy. Soon enough she would grow bored of the exchange, or Areticus would eventually give the opening she looked for. He needed to give her something unexpected. He channeled the Force into his senses and gave into the emotions that came with it. Time had slowed down for the Marauder, and his focus seemed more clear and refine. He dove with an unexpected acceleration into a new string of attacks. The change in pace did throw her off guard, and although a few of his attacks were deflected, Areticus gained the upper hand when his body came too close to hers. This put him past her radius of the winding counters. Before the rush could wear off, Areticus inserted a leg between hers and swept her off her feet. Instead of letting her fall to the ground, however, his left hand caught the center of her back. She could see the high of his rush in the Force fade from his eyes next to the end of the crimson blade at her throat. Her blade too was in the same position at his throat, and the two stared at each other in a draw with heavy breath.

“So, which treasure shall it be?” Lucine asked with her green eyes peering into his, “A man of your stature doesn’t need this little trinket that badly, yes?”

There was a moment of pause of hesitation in Areticus’ mind. He had plenty of holocrons, and it was likely the one she possessed contained nothing that would teach him anything new. Areticus sighed with a headache that had washed over him. He deactivated his lightsaber and straightened himself, “I will not keep you from your task any longer, my dear. I hope you will forgive my persistence.”

Lucine smiled at the success of her mental manipulation with the Force, “Of course, consider it already forgotten. Go now and get yourself some rest, you’ve earned it.” Satisfied with her dominance over his mind, Lucine turned and walked away without looking back. It was only a few steps, however, when she stopped by his call and approach.

“I thought you were going to get some rest,” Lucine asked in confusion.

“Yes of course, but I believe this belongs to you,” Areticus replied and held out the trinket be bought her in his hand.