The Vertical City, Nar Shaddaa. They call it the Smuggler's Moon—an apt description based on the myriad of sentients shuffling back and forth with their illegal wares and hidden weapons. The narrow streets below criss-cross endlessly, soaring miles above the planet's surface. Exposed and uncovered, the streets offer a nearly perfect setting for someone with some skills with ranged weapons. From a vantage point on the ledge of a towering structure of glass and steel offers a dizzying view of the cityscape.

Simple shops and merchants peddle both legitimate and illegitimate wares. Storefronts are just as plentiful as open-market pop-up tents, and the cantina's adapt the same lowlife air as the rest of the Smuggler's Moon. Enemies could be hidden in plain sight, whether one of the Hutts’ gangsters or mercenaries-for-hire looking to earn some credits. The streets are plagued with violent gangs and the general riff raff of the poor and destitute. The streets may be an ideal place for blasters, but the winding streets are difficult to disappear from. An opponent would be easily boxed in and simple to finish with a few quick slashes of a lightsaber. The moon is dangerous—even for one gifted in the Force.

Rain lashed almost vertically down from above. As it fell the street merchants began to raise their awnings for some semblance of cover, those in the street hurried onwards to their destinations and the wild vermin that scurried from shadow to shadow vanished into their hidey holes. A figure moved through the street that only moments before had been flocked with pedestrians. Each footstep sending droplets of water up from the forming puddles and as they collided with the figures armoured boots they joined the rivers already down to once again settle on the rain-soaked road.

“Target was last located in this quarter Commander; We’re not entirely sure of what premise she’s currently located in but the last surveillance placed her in the cafe about two hundred metres down the road. Nothing suggests she has left,” silence answered the radio operator as the figure stopped in his tracks and reached up removing the ARC helmet. Rain washed across his face and he took a deep breath of contentment as he rolled his shoulders. “Sir? Are you alright?”

“Quite alright. Thank you, Sergeant, keep me appraised. I’m approaching the cafe now,” Riku answered whilst replacing his helm and locking it back into place. “This shouldn’t take long if she’s still present. I’ll keep you updated. Amahara out.”

The one thing Riku enjoyed about Nar Shaddaa is no one cared what you looked like, usually. However dressed in full regalia and wielding his unslung Westar was drawing more attention than usual. Figures moved along the road either side and he noted one in particular who had followed him for the last hour. He also noted as he walked there appeared to be less and less ‘normal’ civilians and he began to doubt it was just the rain. No one approached him however as he moved to the cafes door and pushed it open.

The mutterings of conversation died down as all eyes turned and stared. The eyes remained before growing bored and going back to whatever it was they had been discussing before the Nihilgenias arrival. All except one, whose eyes lingered for a moment more before lowering down and the figure slid as far into the corner of their booth as they could. Riku proceeded towards the booth and without waiting for an invitation sat upon the boot table, realising his armour, gear and jetpack would fail miserably in the attempt to fit on the chair. The helmet came off again and he stared at the figure who looked as if she wished to be anywhere but where she was.

“Hello Miss Ginovef. A pleasure to see you and though we haven’t met in person I think the symbols on my armour signify who I am, who I serve and quite possibly why I am here,” no response but Inyri nodded once. “Good. You were granted leave to celebrate your promotion to Knight. We sent you several messages recalling you to Tarthos and sadly none appeared to have reached you as your leave surpassed the recommended time. Clearly, there was an issue with your datapad,” his eyes trailed over the datapad on the table in front of her. “As I would hate to think you purposely overstayed.”

Inyri smiled slightly “No sir, there was no intention to overstay. Had a few issues with the datapad as you rightly guessed. In fact, my shuttle home is in about an hour, so there was no real need for you to come all this way to pick me up,” her smile widened as she reached to her side and grabbed her bag. “In fact I’m all ready, but since you are here perhaps I can get a refund on my shuttle ticket and grab a lift?” His hard stare made her smile vanish. “I guess not, I'm ready to leave.”

So she rose, packing away her datapad into her bag. Swinging it across her shoulder and marching ahead, only stopping to throw a few credits on the counter to pay for her purchases. Riku held the door open for her and she walked out into the street, the clone followed her, helmet tucked under his arm. The rain still lashed down, somehow harder than had been before.

“Aww man, you could've mentioned this friggin rain. Would of put my jacket on...hey these guys friends of yours?”

Riku blinked against the rain and then he noticed them. They moved like wraiths, exiting from side streets and from the road to either side of the cafe. There must have been about a dozen all dressed in a haphazard assortment of armour. Some wielded clubs, he saw a couple of swords and other bladed weapons. He was glad to see only a couple carried blasters but in truth, he had no idea just how much more waited in better vantage points just out of sight. One man, better dressed than the others stepped towards the couple. Riku instantly recognised him as the familiar face from before. The figure pushed out his arms in a mock form of welcome, the smile upon his face splitting his mouth from ear to ear. He was ugly, some sort of human hybrid Riku assumed.

“Yup, definitely Gamorrean.” The man's smiled vanished.

“What did’ya say?” He asked. Anger flashed across his face. “What ya talking about Gamorrean’s for?”

Inyri turned her head to the Commander, a soft smile creeping upon her features. She turned to the gang boss. “I think, now don’t get me wrong as I’m guessing, I think he was thinking what we’re all thinking here. Your mother must have slept with one of those pigs to produce something like you.”

Laughs passed around the group but they stifled as the man fixed them all with a glare. He turned back to the Sadowan's. “Now you listen. I want, we want that shiny armour you're wearing. That stuff will fetch a pretty credit on the market, those weapons and jetpack too. So why dontcha hand it over?” He smirked and turned to his men, indicating like a ringmaster at the circus. “Or we’ll just have to remove it from what’s left of ya ain't that right boys?”

A serenity washed over him as he adjusted his stance and whatever mirth had been present vanished. “No. Turn around, walk away.” The gangster laughed and clicked his fingers. Two of the biggest gang members stepped forward brandishing what appeared to be vibroaxes. “Turn around, walk away.” They took another step forward and one raised his axe. Riku exhaled and pulled the trigger.

Brilliant viridian blaster bolts escaped Westar’s muzzle. They soared through the rain and collided with the brutes chest, shoulder and head. The spacing was off and Riku swore but the burst did the trick as the brute crumpled. Nothing happened for a few moments and then everything happened at once. The gang moved, the leader ducked back into an alley and all hell broke lose.

Riku’s jetpack erupted and sent him skywards. Inyri rolled and dived back into the cafe utilising what cover was available as those armed with blasters opened on the duo.

“Thanks a bloody lot flyboy, ditching me down here!” She ducked down as a bolt passed over her head. “Some special forces, abandoning me," Something hit the ground and erupted. Throwing another of the goons to the side but not killing him. “and now he’s making things go boom. Great! I should've gotten that damn shuttle after all!”

All of Inyri’s mission gear was in her duffle bag, and unfortunately, that was well out of reach. As a group of the gang members ran off to track down her escort, the rest were content to continue after her, blasters blazing and blades drawn. Inyri scrambled further into the cafe, before tumbling over a table and landed on the ground on her back. Pawing at the silverware, her hand found something and she came back up to face her enemies. However, they all stopped and began to snicker, and Inyri shifted her gaze to see why.

“Oh.” She said with disbelief. Held in a fighting stance in her left hand was not the knife or fork she had hoped for. It was a spoon.

The Gammoreans grunted something in their language, and raised their weapons, seemingly confident of a quick and easy kill.

“Flashbang.” Inyri said, tilting her head and squinting her eyes a bit, holding out her right hand at the group. They stopped again, wondering what their quarry was on about, and then they squealed in pain as they were all suddenly seeing a white hot flash over their eyes.

Stepping in, she went for the first blaster armed opponent, jamming the spoon behind the trigger of his DL-18 blaster pistol before grabbing the barrel with her right hand, twisting it up and away. As her opponent tried to pull the trigger in vain, she shifted her left hand to push the butt of the grip upwards, pushing it out of the Gammorean’s grasp, and then pushed hard back with her right hand. The result was that her opponent’s trigger finger, caught in the trigger guard, was now broken.

Inyri stepped back with the pistol now in her hands, and removed the spoon from behind the trigger by tilting the weapon. She took up her signature combat stance, lining up the sights on another one of the blaster armed gangsters, and fired a trio of blaster bolts. The first two caught him in the torso, and the third went through his head, sending the thug reeling to the floor in a heap.

Inyri dropped back down behind the table as her opponents finally recovered and returned fire, her proverbial sixth sense having given her an idea of how long she had to act before she had to deal with the return fire. One of the thugs, a lanky human male, let out a guttural cry as he bounded over the flipped table with a knife in hand.

In response, she used the muzzle of the pistol, slamming it into his wrist to knock the knife aside, before rabbit punching it twice into his throat, dropping him to the floor with a crushed larynx.

Outside, an explosion echoed from the streets, likely caused by her errant escort and whatever chaos he had met his pursuers with, but to what end, Inyri couldn’t see. The gangsters had little reason to stick around, though, it was evident that they were not dealing with the usual sort of helpless travelers, and the remaining survivors fled out of the cafe.

Inyri stood up, sweeping with her pilfered DL-18 carefully, not leaving anything to chance as she approached her duffle bag, left outside where it had been dropped. Civilians were running either away or towards the building across the street that now had an entire floor on fire.

“Unintended consequence, the building was not up to fire code.”

Inyri spun around, her pistol about to track onto target but she snapped the barrel upwards as she realized it was her chaperone.

“How you lived this long sneaking up behind people with weapons in our lovely outfit is beyond me.” Inyri said, hefting her duffle bag over her shoulder, “We can’t leave yet.”

“The authorities will handle the fire.” Riku said.

Inyri rifled through one of the pockets of her bag and pulled out a datapad, cycling through pictures until one of the man that confronted them appeared on it.

“I’m not here for the night life. I hate Nar Shaddaa. It’s too loud, too crowded, and the locals don’t like me because I’m too stiff for their tastes.” Inyri said, and handed over the datapad, “I’m here because a reliable source, and no, I’m not revealing it, so don’t ask, has pointed me towards criminal elements who have been aiding enemies of our House, namely those involved in Kar Alabrek.”

“This is an unsanctioned mission, then. Why?” Riku asked.

“Because there are times that I need to drop off the grid to avoid security risks.” Inyri sighed in frustration, “So, since you’ve sent him scurrying for the shadows, as well as the next transport off-world, my week of prep work is out the airlock, thanks for that. You still want to throw me on the next transport out of here, or do you want to maybe make up for blowing my mission?”