Lava is mined as a precious natural resource on this volatile and volcanic world. The opposing gravitational forces of the twin gas giants closest to Mustafar tear apart the planet’s surface to reveal the mineral-rich lava flows underneath. Once serving as the capital world for the Confederacy of Independent Systems, remnants of their past influence still linger. Massive mining facilities—originally constructed by the Techno Union—are still maintained by the native Mustafarians, an egocentric people who would like nothing more than to squeeze minerals for the purposes of trade and commerce from their volcanic planet.

Other than in the pursuit of business interests, few arrive on Mustafar save for those needing to incinerate evidence in its vast expanses of magma. What little curiosity is given to the volcanic planet is thwarted by a natural scanning interference caused by intense geological activity. Pirates, smugglers, criminals and scum all value this world’s ability to dump bodies, tracked cargo shipments and other unwanted articles—the singular reason for the Black Sun’s interest in the Outer Rim world.

Droids, machines and conveyor belts create the workings of an efficient system to extract the minerals and have it prepared for refinement and transportation. Lacking a suitable surface, metal walkways are shielded against the heat to allow workers passage throughout the facilities. Even with the worst of the heat being shielded against, Mustafar’s temperature remains less than comfortable to most species lacking exoskeletons.

Beyond the blistering heat of the volcanic world, Mustafar served as the battlefield for the fabled final duel between Obi Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker.

Work’t desperately tapped at the console, the last dregs of data draining into the datapad he had stolen from the nearby workers. They were dead now, on the floor. He watched the man in the loyalist colours of Taldryan marching towards his position in the engineering centre. His pad chimed just as the armoured monolith passed the first set of blast doors.

“Two minutes…more…no.” Work’t slid the pad out of the terminal’s dock, tucking the secrets of the Collective’s latest crystal research away. “Won’t here, two minutes. Bye, Taldryan.” He said, a smirk on his furry lips as he gestured to Solution to follow him. He paced out the door, slamming open the airlock door to the bridges above the lava.

The burning Mustafarian air slashed across the Ewok’s face in a tempest. The sight of the huge factory block of the facility filled the left side of his vision, the catwalks off to the landing pad he came in on to the right side. While the Beskar-clad man would be on him shortly, the simple fact was he didn’t have the time to close.

With that happy thought in mind, the shooting started. Work’t slammed his head around as he dodged, his Force senses barely giving him time to get out the way. Solution took a glancing hit and span around, trying to lock a target on whatever was shooting the pair. The Ewok spotted a slice of black movement across the lava rivers below, some sort of drone strafing them. Enraged, Work’t reached out with the Force, dodging yet another burst of fire. His armour took a burning slice across it’s back plate as the diminutive being reached out and gripped the drone in a tight embrace. Far from being crushed though, it’s master-crafted hull resisted long enough for another jolt of prescience to send the Ewok crashing back to the ground. He crawled behind the reinforced plates of the catwalk’s guard. Work’t saw the orange glow of molten fire reflecting on the white plates of the giant, their arm cannon blasting toward the Ewok as he continued approaching. Solution turned, preparing to launch his wrist rockets toward the man.

I really hope this bastard isn’t as good with the Force as he is with that blaster. Work’t thought, drawing a slice of energy onto the string of his bow.

Creon dove left and the Ascendant Drone dove right. Both activated their thrusters and flew up at a curve. A single plasma arrow from Nope bounced off Creon’s breastplate during his ascension. A wave of fear shocked the Sith’s senses into forgoing the bow for his lightsaber. Creon and his drone sent down a shower of blaster bolts. The reflective movements of Soresu guided by the Force deflected bolts which had fatal trajectories. It angered Work’t to have to be forced on the defensive. Whispering birds screeched from Creon’s forearm towards the Sith and his droid before he landed across from them on the same railing. A mist of smoke arose from a stream of B2’s bolts that collided with the miniature rockets.

Work’t launched himself through the smokescreen with a Force-enhanced jump. Within the moment of a single breath, the Sith’s instinct and muscle memory pulled his blade from a readied offensive slash to instead perform a riposte from the sudden sight of Creon’s drawn lightsaber at the corner of his peripheral vision. Creon thrusted forward with a lunged stab and Work’t whirled around it with a cut across the forearm. Where would usually be a severed limb was instead only a small streak across the beskar vambrace.

His droid had been engaged the foe’s drone. Both stood at a standstill with blasters locked as Work’t assumed a defensive stance from Creon’s approach. Creon gave the universal open-palmed “stop” hand sign before using the same hand to reach for something on his belt. The Ewok gulped and readied an attack but stopped short with widely open and newly dilated eyes.

Look at that sweet subtle black coloring. He thought with eyes glossed from the light that emitted his bounty image in a quality resolution he had not seen in such a small screen before. The tasteful thickness of the hardware… His attention would often scan over the major components of the remote pad before returning to gazing at the screen.

“And if rumors of your skill are true, I would be willing to overlook your bounty if you can create a trajectory software that links the droid chip in my arm cannon with the AI in my helmet, the one in my drone, and within a Firespray-31-class Interceptor. If they’re all talking to each other it can improve targeting. I also want to use the integrated software to lock and trigger each of their respective weapons.”

Work’t little paws slowly reached out to grasp the remote pad.

“Woah, little fellah.” Creon said pulling the remote pad away from him, but continued to show the screen which changed its display to schematic readings. The Ewok’s stress was tested in having to concentrate on overriding the drone whilst tolerating the monotonous overtone of the tin man’s project proposition. His adorable fuzzy face grimaced a dark grin at the telepathic realization his Mecha Deru had taken control over Creon’s drone.

Creon motioned to dodge before his drone took the shot but its bolt still hit true at the helm and knocked him off his feet. Creon used Force Stop on the drone. He then quick drew his pistol from its holster with telekinesis and fired at the drone. The shockwave that followed the round tore a clean hole through its hull before it collapsed to the ground.

The Sith Ewok’s eyes went wide with amazement at the pistol. What a wonderful weapon he thought with delight.

His delight came back around to mild concern as Creon levelled the pistol at him. “Enough of that, impressive as it was.” The giant stated firmly, as if speaking to a child. Work’t for his part had the sudden realisation he was outmatched. Solution stood behind the man; arm levelled to fire but awaiting command. Work’t gulped as he realised he likely wouldn’t punch through in time to stop the Equite cutting him down. His own armour had no ability to reflect the blade like Creon’s after all.

“What ask for, not too hard. Big job.” Work’t said, nervously taking a step back. Creon cocked his head ever so slightly. “What pay?”

“The pay” Creon said, snapping his arm cannon and pistol toward the Ewok. “Is that I don’t blow your head clean off your shoulders and take in the bounty on your body.” Work’t grimaced, looking again at the bare scrap of exposed Beskar on the arm of the large Human.

“Not choice.” Creon’s body tensed as if about to strike. Work’t, realising his mistake raised his hands in supplication, feeling his bile rise as he did so. "No, I mean it’s not much choice you are giving me." He sent via the Force, disarming the imminent hail of blaster fire.

The man responded out loud, not bothering to take the time to form his limited ability in telepathy back. “No, you’re correct. You really don’t have much of a choice.”

Work’t sighed loudly, but holstered his saber and gave Solution the order to stand down. The three began to walk toward the landing pads, as Work’t began to study the schematics.

Perhaps this would come of some use after all He thought to himself. Afterall, it would hardly be the first time he’d escaped a big man in Imperial armour…

“Forcing me to sacrifice my drone has sealed your fate! Your bounty will replace my drone and be used to pay off more of the mortgage,” Creon hissed. Solution aimed and fired its wrist blasters at Creon. Creon took a few hits that brought him to take a knee and block further rounds with the deflector shield at his left vambrace. His implant’s coagulants numbed the pain receptor reaction hesitation from those hits, and his mind remained focused into a smooth snap of his right arm to quickfire a Soulscorn shot at Solution. The droid’s chasis fell apart with a gaping hole left behind. The thunderous clap of the fired round caused Work’s ear to ring. Creon took heavier, slower, and deeper breathes than normal when he approached Work’t. Work’t wobbled and felt a wave of fatigue and a drop in blood sugar. Tendrils like red lightning of Dark Side energy coursed around the Sith and pulled to Creon’s reaching left arm. Each passing breathe became more difficult and made Work’t sleepy.

“Are you getting my visual? Can you confirm the target ID?” Creon asked in signal with the bounty broker through a feed through the camera on his helmet.

Work’t suddenly reached out with the Force to pull at the pistol in Creon’s right hand. Instead of pulling to get it back in response, Creon drew back a fist and punched the air with a right hook, causing a telekinetic strike through the Force to mimic the impact of his gesture upon Work’t. The attack threw the Ewok on the railing and the pistol had skittered across the bridge away from them both. When Work’t eventually got to his feet, he walked to the center of the bridge to see Creon waiting for him. The Sith seethed in roiling anger and snapped on his two lightsabers. Creon took a ready stance with both arms stretched forward and his fists aimed.

“Target ID confirmed. Requesting confirmation of termination,” A muffled voice in Creon’s helmet replied.

Creon fired a series of bolts at Work’t from his vambraces and arm cannon. The Sith was able to deflect a few bolts back, but most brushed and bounced off Creon’s commando armor. When Creon switched from bolts to using Force Drain again, Work’t switched from his lightsabers to throwing destroyed droid and drone components scattered between them with telekinesis. The strain from the drain took time to throw. Upon Work’s launch, Creon was able to telekinetically strike and altered the droid hardware’s trajectory, causing them to miss. Work’t redrew his lightsabers and took to the offensive. Creon jumped back and telekinetically placed ricochet disks on the railings that surrounded Work’t. Another wave of bolts fired at him and at the disks simultaneously was too much for Work’t to precognitively deflect, and a round eventually hit him where his armor could not protect. The Ewok rolled limp and struggled to breathe. Creon approached and delivered a coup de grace with his wrist blaster.

“Kill confirmed. Sending payment,” the same muffled voice in his helmet said.