The streets of Nar Shaddaa were a far cry from the crimson stained sands of the Pit he’d spent his life in on Rattatak. Foreign scents bombarded Zhaolin as he followed the directions he’d managed to get from one of the transit station guards. He needed credits and he needed them fast. He'd swapped his armor for something more inconspicuous. The soft dark robes Nyssa had managed to swipe for him let him blend into the crowd and draw less attention. Zhaolin had fled the Pit without winning a Bloodletting and under the tradition of his Pit was labeled a traitor and deserter. He couldn't be found out or he'd be dragged back to that hellscape.
The events and subsequent escape from the Blood Furnace had left a deep, festering wound on his psyche. He’d lost both lover and best friend in a single, blood-soaked moment. And then there was Nyssa to consider. His chest felt unreasonably tight when he thought of the healer. More than anything he needed the credits to provide for her now. She'd suffered enough for one lifetime and he was determined to repay the life debt he owed her. Shaking off the thoughts, Zhaolin resumed his search for the bounty board he was told stood in this stretch of the market.
Some of the sights he beheld on the streets of Nar Shaddaa made his lifetime on Rattatak seem all the more backward and brutal. Yet here too, Zhaolin found cruelty and violence—his all too familiar companions. He focused instead on the gentler aspects of the night market. The Pit where he'd spent the majority of his life was dirt, stone, and durasteel bars. The most vibrant colors were the burnt orange of the dirt and the red blood spilt upon it. Here? Zhaolin's eyes roved over street stalls and tucked away booths.
There were blues and greens, soft pinks and yellows. Fabrics, foods, jewelry, animals...anything he could think of and more was laid out before him. Vendors called out to passersby, the sounds of deals being haggled and quality being disputed. This place was so alive it felt like he'd somehow plugged himself directly into the Force. Aside from the public days of the Blood Furnace, Zhaolin had never been anywhere that was quite so loud or active.
Just as he was beginning to feel overstimulated his silver-blue eyes landed on the bounty board. Relief flooded over him and Zhaolin slipped through the crowd to stand in front of it. Several notices were pinned to it and he took a moment to read through them. Any that requested killing outright he avoided, still feeling the unbearable weight of shame and guilt churning within himself. He'd taken enough lives, hadn't he?
There was a single missive on the board that drew his gaze. A retrieval and escort request. Stolen goods that needed to be returned to their rightful owner? That seemed like something the warrior could do well enough without having to end lives. He'd take a retrieval gig with a chance for a scuffle over an outright assassination bounty. Reaching for the discolored leaflet, he snatched it down and reread the contents before tucking it into the front of his robes. The light of the day had already begun to fade and Zhaolin wasted no time at all in setting out to fill the bounty.
T-185. Zhaolin repeated the warehouse number to himself over and over as he made his way there. He had to stop several times to ask for directions. Backtracking made what should have been a twenty minute walk take twice as long. When he reached the location, he skirted around the perimeter to see if there were any guards. If he'd been trained in recon or had an ounce of street smarts, the situation probably would have seemed off to him. His gladiatorial education would only serve him well in cases of combat and survival.
After several laps around the T-185, Zhaolin stopped off in a nearby alley. Dropping the dingy black duffle that carried his scant armor and equipment, he started preparing himself. Donning the worn leather bracers and retrieving his blade from the bag, he slung the duffle over his shoulder and pushed it behind his back. Now ready with the modicum of armor granted from the Bloodletting of the Pit, he pushed forward toward the warehouse. It would be simple enough to duck inside, reclaim the cargo, and get out right? No one seemed to be around and Meili had always said he'd been light and quick on his feet.
Creeping up to the rusted durasteel door, Zhaolin noted there was no obvious lock. Carefully reaching out, he tried the handle and was pleasantly shocked to find it unlocked. It pushed open with a low creaking sound and he slipped inside. The interior of the warehouse was dimly lit with a musty, cloying smell that was unknown to him. Though something about being in a dark space like this felt oddly familiar. The chamber he'd shared with Zhenya and Meili on Rattatak felt much the same.
Waiting only long enough for his eyes to adjust, Zhaolin gripped the hilt of his old blade and crept as quietly as he could deeper into the space. Tall shelving units held various boxes and covered containers, some with scrawled labels and others completely unmarked. The bounty notice had described the cargo as a middling size container with a distinctive logo: a serpent consuming itself.
Thick layers of grime and abandonment lay as a blanket over the warehouse. Zhaolin noted footprints in the thick carpet of dust, but had no way of knowing whose they were or how fresh they might be. Adjusting his hold on his sword, he crept around a tall shelf and continued further into the building. The faster he located the missing cargo, the faster he could return it and claim the credits. Then he could return to Nyssa and hopefully find passage off this moon.
So focused on locating the container described in the leaflet, he didn’t immediately notice that he was not alone. His eyes, a deep silver color in the dim light, traced over each box and crate he passed. Slim, calloused fingers brushed over dust, the fine particles swirling on stale air that suggested this place was rarely–if ever–used anymore. He touched a faded yellowed circle on top of a battered, locked box and nearly missed the shape of the serpent’s head swallowing its tail.
This was it. He swiped a palm over the design to be sure and excitement flared in his gut. The easiest credits he would ever earn, surely. Zhaolin took a steadying breath, forgetting in his triumph to check his surroundings as he made to snatch up the container. It was far heavier than he’d expected for its relatively small size, but that did not deter him. Adrenaline and that blossom of hope in his chest were enough to steady his grip and strengthen his resolve. They would escape this moon, find Zhenya, have their revenge…and finally be free.
