The Godless Matron is home to many, resembling a micro-society for those who wish to live outside the typical 'rule' of the galaxy. The Lucrehulk-class battleship's massive hangars have been converted into dwellings as a result. Chute Town is the most notable of these makeshift towns. Many shops and storefronts have been constructed to take advantage of the higher volume of foot traffic. In addition, many ships and crews arrive into Chute Town to sell their "well-earned" commodities, weapons, or artifacts. It is commonplace to find the best and the worst gear the galaxy has to offer, it is only a matter of how big your pocket book is. The 'streets' are patrolled regularly by the crew of the Matron itself, leaving would-be miscreants to be more wary, lest they find themselves on the receiving end of a pirate's sense of justice.

It is built mostly out of spare durasteel panels from derelict ships, dismantled machinery, or any other source or material the pirates could scavenge. It spans the length of the massive portside hangar of the Matron, reaching from it's heavily protected reactor — hidden behind triple-reinforced blast doors and a guard retinue — all the way to the hangar entrance where the many incoming ships unload their cargo. It is more than a mile long, over five hundred feet wide and up to three stories tall, covering most of the floor. Chute Town's streets are a miniature maze, weaving in between buildings on several levels. Verticality is key for the masses of shops and bars to operate without interfering with one another. The main street is nicknamed Murder alley, mostly because all the weapon shops are prominently opened there.

Illumination banks are staggered along the walkways and buildings to provide enough light for the society to function. Still, the 'streets' are left dim with a low hanging fog built up from the collective humidity of so many people in one space. For those calling it their home, there is no such thing as 'off hours'. A large crowd bustles along at all hours, an exotic assortment of individuals from countless planets and the warring gangs that divvy up the territory within. It's the perfect place for those looking to disappear in the crowd.

With tensions running high, Chute Town was far more volatile than it would have been otherwise. Several of the gangs had been stepping outside their territory of late. As yet there had been no outright acts of aggression, though the perceived slights had been steadily mounting for weeks. The cracks in the dam were beginning to show. The crew of the Godless Matron just needed to apply pressure to the right place at the right time to trigger an outright gang war.

To that end, a bounty was put in place. The premise was simple enough. The Herald would grant a measure of clemency to whomsoever cashed in the ID tokens that had been planted on several individuals at random. Such a prize was without measure for not just the gangs of Chute Town, but the denizens themselves.

Finally leaving. Blackhawk approached his shuttle only to find a team of mechanics still working on it.

“What is going on? You told me that me shuttle would be ready to go by now,” he inquired to the head mechanic.

“Calm down sir, we will be done by tomorrow.”

“Fine but know this. If I can not take that shuttle out of this sarlacc pit of a town by tomorrow, I will kill you.”

With that, lacking anything else to do, he proceeded to a bar in chute town. Even that wasn't relaxing, but in this filthy place, it was the best he could do. If all went well, he'd be gone by tomorrow, never to return. If it didn't, then whoever replaced the head mechanic would get the idea.

Perhaps he could make some money at a small stakes Pazaak table, but he wouldn't dare drink or even buy the refreshments here. The Pazaak table was relatively full, but they had room for one more. It didn't take long to figure out that these guys were not used to a guy who actually knew what he was doing. Not long later, three Bothans on the opposite side of the table stood up and drew weapons. One of them had a blaster, the other two drew crude looking knives.

“Give ussss our money,” the lead Bothan’s serpentine voice hissed as the two with crude looking blade came around the table to flank him.

“Let me explain how this will go.” Blackhawk began. “I won't even need my weapons. I'll take the weapon off the guy to my right, and use it to stab the one to my right. Then, I will throw the other blade into your heart. The guy to my left, will end up dead on the floor after that.”

“There's three of ussss and one of you. There isss no way that you would manage that. Get hiiiim.” the lead Bothan ordered.

The fight went exactly as he said it would. The one to his left found that he had only used a fraction of his abilities to kill his compatriots after falling to a burst of lightning.

“You should have listened.” the Clawdite stated as he drew his blaster and fired, killing the last of his enemies. The brawl had drawn the attention of all the bar’s inhabitants, including a Jedi that he was not aware of in the bar.

“Don't worry,” he told the bar in general.

“Who wants a drink?” As it appeared, everyone there had the same impression of the ale that he did. It didn't take a genius to tell that most of the people there were nervous.

Guess I should take my leave. It would probably be best for him to just head to his temporary lodgings until he could leave. What he didn't realize is that the Jedi from the bar was following him.

The bulky humanoid figure blinked in and out of existence as it crossed the floodlights of the illumi-panels. Korroth could just about keep track of the dishevelled head of hair as it weaved through the crowd. Trust Archenksova to choose a crazy skug to be the turncoat. ”You’ll know him when you see him.” Sure! After that stunt at the bar, so did half the gangs of the Chute, and it’s not as if they were on the lookout for marked individuals!

As he squeezed past a gaggle of Quor’savs, the Pau’an fiddled with a small token tucked behind his belt. To think the object he hoped to exchange for this token was almost exactly the same size, but carrying information that could change the course of the Resistance. A chart of the Matron’s itinerary through the Shroud. A chance to strike at the heart of the Dark Council, at the Dark Lord’s own emissary.

“Stang!” Korroth muttered under his breath. The humanoid had disappeared round an alley. The Jedi picked up his pace, clearing the crowd and trotting around the corner. The alleyway was poorly lit and stacked with crates. As soon as he left the throng Korroth sensed the other man’s presence, but it was too late. The dark figure, a Force-sensitive, stepped out of an alcove and blocked the way back to the main thoroughfare. His hands were on his belt.

“Alright, what’s your game?”

That’s not his line, Korroth thought. “Nothing. I was just thinking, the jogan fruits on Rodia are coming along nicely. I wonder when they’ll be ripe.”

“What?” The humanoid’s voice went slightly higher in pitch.

“No. When.”

“What?”

Neither of them had time for this. Korroth was pretty sure they had been followed on the way here. The exchange would have to happen now or not at all. The Pau’an pinched the token out of his belt.

“Look, do you have it or not?”

“I think you have the wrong man.” The humanoid’s eyes went to whatever was held in the Pau’an’s hand.

“You’re not… but then what was that all about?” Korroth gestured vaguely in the direction the two of them had come from.

“What?”

“Wh— now, let’s not start that all over again.”

“Oh, at the bar?” The humanoid shrugged his shoulders. “Pft.”

The Jedi didn’t speak for a moment. “Right. Well then. I’ll be on my way. Sorry for the inconvenience.” He made to squeeze past his unexpected acquaintance.

“Ah-tat-tat-tat!” The large humanoid ignited two crimson lightsabers, and Korroth jumped back. “You’re not going anywhere. I know what that is. That token’s an early ticket off this rusted clankerbucket.”

“You don’t want to do that.” Korroth raised his left hand, but with his right he tucked the chip back in his belt and placed a palm on his lightsaber hilt. “I’m not giving it up, it’ll be far more trouble than it’s worth.”

The humanoid did not reply. The Jedi’s emerald blade buzzed to life just as his opponent sprang forward. A fleeting flash marked first contact, then the three blades clashed in a staccato rhythm of whirs and fizzes that rang up and down the alleyway. Korroth was forced to step back when the Clawdite’s two weapons swept in simultaneously from opposite sides, but he quickly recovered when the green blade snapped down and towards his opponent’s wrist. The dual wielder jerked his exposed hand back and deflected the blow.

Korroth felt a tingle at the nape of his neck. While one ruby lightsaber pushed the Jedi’s blade, the other whirled into an attacking arch. The Jedi’s muscles flexed out of Force-effected instinct and he bent low. As the red blade passed above his head, the Pau’an shifted his weight forwards and swept his blade parallel to the ground. The Clawdite jumped up to save his feet, but he turned the momentum into a dual-bladed overhead strike aimed at Korroth. The Jedi, already close to the ground, tucked into a roll and dodged the attack. The two red beams scored a glowing track across the durasteel flooring.

By this point a mass of people had gathered on either end of the alley. They were elbowing and jostling to get a better view from the narrow entrance, but none of them dared to push into the passageway itself.