The Dark Side of the Moon

[Zhen'e Ke]

Lower Promenade, Nar Shaddaa
​

Amid the neon lights and cold night air of Nar Shaddaa's central floating marketplace, shadowy figures moved about, trading information and items, entertaining themselves, or simply gazing out into the nighttime cityscape. From a distance, an observer would perceive all the activity as unorganised, perhaps even chaotic. There was no evident central directive; all the action was all spurred by individual motives, everyone moving of their own accord. Yet from that same distance, the observer would simultaneously find the overall liveliness to be strangely organic. Had such an observer watched the place each night, they would find themselves proven correct; this was indeed the way life went on Nar Shaddaa. The natural state of life on the Smugglers' Moon was fickle. Chaotic, in its own beautiful way.

And so the addition of a single old man in the Lower Promenade of Nar Shaddaa that night would have made no difference to anyone watching, unless they watched one particular spot every night. Under the cover of the neon-lit marketplace shelters, Zhen'e Ke sat cross-legged at a bench, entertaining his irregular flow of guests with stories about one of the battles he had fought in so many moons ago. At the same time, he would perform random physical feats that he could inconspicuously aid himself with by using the Force: juggling, dart-throwing, the creation of optical illusions. In exchange for his entertainment, some of the people would be charitable enough to toss him a few credits. Others might've dismissed him as a madman.

Zhen'e could see various people standing at a distance, simply eying him. He would wave them over intermittently. Some would join the coming-and-going of people around his bench. Others refused to budge.

Though his garments as well as the nature of his entertainment gave away the fact that he had been a Jedi once, his present condition — a glorified beggar on Nar Shaddaa — and his fairly dishevelled appearance fueled an unspoken assumption that he was no longer part of the Order. His Jedi robes were torn in a number of places and clearly had been worn for some time; he carried a wooden staff with him rather than proudly displaying a lightsaber hilt from a utility belt. As far as the public was concerned, he was just another one of Nar Shaddaa's innumerable, unfortunate refugees, using his special background to try and make a few credits. That wasn't exactly untrue.

In a moment of respite, Zhen'e sighed and counted the number of credits he had made after several days of playing public entertainer. It wasn't much, but it was probably just enough for him to pay a spacer to get him off-world. He had been planet-hopping with the aid of various spacers who had been generous enough to accept him as a passenger — with payment, of course — and the experience had allowed him to learn much about the galaxy's mundane life. Unfortunately, his last benefactor had turned out to be a smuggler on the run from the Hutts, who had suddenly decided to pursue him, and Zhen'e had been dumped mid-course for his own safety. On, of all places, Nar Shaddaa.

With a slight grunt, Zhen'e stood up and began to make his way around the area, looking for any pilots that could be charitable enough to take him for a ride...

@OhNoesBunnies

 

[Baastique]

She couldn't believe her luck.

First, the discharge filter responsible for keeping the Lunchbox's sensor screens clear and free had malfunctioned. It wasn't as big a problem as some might have made it out to be, she could still fly, but the second thing to break ensured she had no choice but to land in the nearest port. The inertial compensator, responsible for keeping her alive when pulling excessive G's in her starship, had started to fail. Though she managed one more jump in hyperdrive to a planet nearby, thanks to a hyperspace-anchor, by the time she reached Nar Shadda the inertial compensator was all but non-functional, making entry into the atmosphere an highly unenjoyable experience. Unless you asked her utility droid, MR-T, who cackled and beeped like a psychopath until she had finally managed to settle the rickety bucket of bolts her father called a starship onto the nearest landing pad.

Though she had occupied it without the proper clearance, she later convinced the authorities responsible for handling incoming and outgoing traffic in this port that it was either that, or she'd have crashed into the nearest building. That meant a loss in profits for the nearest casinos, and in turn that also meant smaller paychecks to the crews at work. Though it took a few more credits off the top to convince them of that, she was reasonably sure she'd be able to make it back over a few rounds of pazaak. Or maybe Highland Challenge. After securing her boat on the pad, she instructed MR-T to stay behind and ensure the ship got the repairs it needed, either by it or by one of the repair crews on the platform, and made her way to the more infamous Lower Promenades of Nar Shadda, where crime was practically legal and firefights were a fact of life. It was also a place where she could make a killing if she talked to the right person, and one of the best locales in the galaxy to get bounties from the countless cartels operating on the planet.

Though she had found it sooner rather than later, she was made aware of both a large bounty on the space-wizards that typically roamed the Mid-Core Systems and one of whom may have just been sighted on these levels. "You're certain of that?" She had asked a local Bothan with a big mouth, and after a little bit of threatening with the proper show of force, she had made sure his claims were genuine. A Jedi, here? She really couldn't believe her luck. Most of those glowstick-wielding space wizards had bounties on their heads in the Outer Rim, and thankfully that was no different on Nar Shadda. All she needed was one lucky shot and to tag him as her kill, and she wouldn't have to ride around in that rustbucket with the mad little droid she dared to call a companion any longer! It hadn't taken long for her to track down the magician either: He was on the same platform she'd arrived on and was known for his tricks and treats, often entertaining (if not spooking) the local populace.

Perfect!

She was giddy by the time she actually located her target, and for a while she watched him. Though three floors above and nearly 100 meters away, Baastique could still make out her target pretty clearly thanks to the array of sensors installed in her scout armor's helmet. It kept him clear as day amongst the common crowds of rabble and rot, and her nearly imperceptible to the naked eyes below. Though it went unseen beneath a layer of armor, a smile curved her lips as she set to work, putting her 2L-Blaster Rifle together piece by piece, but without the range-finder she had usually adorned it with. With only about 50 meters between them, she felt she wouldn't need it for an ace shot this far away.

"Just stick around for me, please." She hummed whimsically to herself, "Winner winner, Jogan dinner any minute now." Now she was ready. With her weapon armed, the midsection of the barrel set upon the edge of the balcony's railing and her eyes fixed to the wandering prize below, she rested her finger on the trigger... Then he stood up. There was a tick of nervousness behind her demeanor now, knowing full well a moving target, even at his slow pace, put everyone around him at risk. She wasn't a heartless killer, but she needed to eat, and tossing her hesitations aside and repositioning her finger over the trigger-guard, she waited for a more opportune moment to present itself when the crowd was thinner.

"Come on already, just stand still for a second. I'll make it quick..."

 

[Zhen'e Ke]

Zhen'e was cocooned in a melting pot of denizens before he knew it. Despite the great swirl of life around him, the great mass of flesh and blood, he could find no one interested in leaving the moon. With an old man on their back, anyway. He couldn't blame them, but it was certainly disappointing for him. After several rejections, the elder Jedi decided to reach out in the Force for clues as to where he could go. The experience would have been overwhelming if Zhen'e hadn't experienced it before. People's passions, emotions, intentions, all swirling in the conglomerate mass of living energy called the Force, and this old man had the unenviable task of singling out those whose presences in the Force screamed a desire for escape. A desire so strong that they would be willing to carry an old fool along with them if it just meant they could get off this blasted moon...

...

Something was wrong.

Zhen'e felt the Force running through him like a shiver, a sensation he knew all too well represented the presence of some impending danger. He was glad that even in his exile, he hadn't allowed his Force senses to dull — well, not too much, anyway — because it was just enough to make him vaguely aware that someone was watching him. He was sure it wasn't anyone specifically looking for him, but Nar Shaddaa was smack in the middle of a great swath of space where Jedi had bounties on their heads. All the people nearby, the ones who had seen and heard him, likely would've dismissed him as another washed-up refugee. A has-been. Yet someone observing from the distance might have thought him a proper Jedi.

Like loud heartbeats, the Force drummed its warning in a static pattern, but Zhen'e knew that the last thing he wanted now was to be static. In starkly un-Jedi fashion, the senior weaved in and out of the crowd, using the masses as a shield. The tactic was all he had, and it worked only on the basis that his pursuer placed any value on innocent life or at least cared about collateral damage; that they wouldn't just lob an incendiary grenade into the crowd and be done with it. Given that the sensation of danger was still present, Zhen'e couldn't be sure of that. Even if they weren't willing to bomb the entire platform, they would just be waiting for him to step out of safety.

Slowly, under the cover of others, Zhen'e snaked his way into the Promenade interior, where he'd be far safer. All the while, he kept his Force senses peeled for the bastard who was watching him the entire time, in an effort to determine their position, but the ebb and flow of life on Nar Shaddaa made that highly difficult even when he wasn't trying to maneuver in and out of people in a way that wouldn't get him killed.

Once he was inside, Zhen'e felt the tingle of danger recede. Immediately making his way into the centre area, he considered his options. He could take the stairs into the Upper Promenade, or he could head over to the opposite side of the Promenade platform, maybe catch a taxi from either location into another part of Nar Shaddaa.

Whoever's after me, I hope you're feeling lucky today, because I won't be sitting around like a womp rate waiting for his head to be blown off.

@OhNoesBunnies

 

[OhNoesBunnies]

By the Z'Gag, why do you have to be so cowardly? Thought the Kettle to the Pot as she kept her sights on him, tracking just half-a-inch ahead to compensate for the brief distance they shared. The way he moved was similar to that of a woman being followed on a busy street, dodging and weaving casually between the common rabble and everyday filth that Nar Shadda bathed itself in. Don't think I won't shoot through them to get to you, she said in her mind. The Falleen wasn't really convinced of that, however, as was evidenced by her finger still laying over the trigger-guard. For a moment the opportunistic-bounty-hunter thought about firing off a few harmless shots towards the ground if only to scatter the obstacles between the predator and quarry, but before she could put the plan into motion, she spotted the edges of the Jedi's robe fleeting into the safety of the promenade's interior.

"Karkin' coward!" She yelled at no-one in particular, her feminine voice translating into a mechanical, unisex variant thanks to the vocal processors in her helmet. Without much care, she leaped over the side of the balcony, gripping the midsection of her rifle in her right as her left hung onto the railing. Though not entirely sure what her plan was, she released the edge and slid down the slightly tilted surface of the balcony wall, until it gave way to empty space where the second-floor balcony was and she went into a free fall. Only too late did she realize there was actually a gap between the first floor and the platform ahead of her, about twelve feet in length from here to there. In a panic, she threw her rifle to the platform floor and hit the edge with her chest, groaning out as the city's endless oblivion below grasped at her with high winds and passing traffic.

Having held on, she quickly pulled herself up and began sprinting towards the entrance of her prey's refuge, bowling over everyone in her way with a variety of colorful retorts and insults tossed at her for her mannerisms. When she reached the entrance, she came to slow, eyeing the inside of the promenade in some surprise as to its traffic and neon-utopian glow. Every nook and cranny of the place was filled to the brim with stalls and people, all trading, gambling and generally trying to cut peoples' purses from under them. "Damn," she exhaled, almost in defeat. Though the girl hadn't quite given up yet. Switching the rifle to her left hand, she reached up to adjust a small knob on the upper-right of her helmet, rewinding a virtual display of recorded information in her helmet, to the point the visual data showed a current three-dimensional display around her of her targets trajectory and his supposed path inside the promenade.

She looked over it for a while before having an idea of where he was and began to march in. Slinging her rifle on her back, Baastique instead opted for her pistol now, relieving it of the holster on her hip and holding it up for everyone to see. Most broke away and gave her room to pass, while others just continued to mind their own business, likely waiting for the inevitable chorus of gunfire before getting a clue. On the way she passed a few robed individuals, forcefully tugging their hoods down to get a look at them with polite replies such as "Hey you crinkling fool!" and "Get the hell off me, schutta!" Then she spotted him, amidst a crowd and looking for a way out, weighing his decisions. Git gud, as they say... She laughed in her own head and aimed her pistol towards his head. Twenty-feet, give or take, between him and the barrel of her gun. Like shooting womp rats in a sewer line. Carefully, her finger settled on the trigger, and with a slow exhale, she took the shot.

 

[Zhen'e Ke]

In a heart attack of a warning, the Force came surging again, and this time Zhen'e felt not only that keen sense of danger coming back, stronger than ever, but also mocking, triumphant laughter. Whoever had come after him and found him, and there was probably a split-second before his head was blown off or some merciless fireball consumed his aged body.

Giving himself completely to the Force, the old man obeyed its unpredictable flow and twisted his body at preternatural speed in accordance with the invisible energy field's currents. A bolt of deadly plasma streaked past him, mere centimetres from his face — and just where his head was a moment ago — before zooming harmlessly onward towards a wall many metres away. Completing a spin, Zhen'e performed a flying leap to clear the inevitable follow-up shots, and landed behind another wall of people. Based on the earlier escape he had managed from his attacker, they weren't eager to hammer blaster fire into innocent bystanders, which was all Zhen'e needed to buy him crucial time to take off into a mob of people again.

Considering the speed with which he had been located again, Zhen'e decided that going upstairs was no longer a viable option. He made his way over to the end of the Lower Promenade that was opposite the one he had started from, but this time there was no abating of the Force's dire warning in his bones. He could feel the bounty hunter doggedly pursuing him, just waiting for a break in the crowd to get another chance at blasting him into oblivion. That opportunity — or for Zhen'e, misfortune — came soon enough, with a sudden scattering of people just as he came within sight of the exit. Just as his cover disintegrated, the old man executed another Force leap, though this time he had the aid of his run-up's momentum.

The exit on the ground floor of the Promenade was the predictable destination, but that meant the bounty hunter would expect him to land there as well. He would probably be rewarded with a shower of blaster bolts if he landed there, and so it was up to a septuagenarian's aged brain to come up with a way of surprising his assailant whilst sailing through the air. Fortunately for Zhen'e, he had something much better than that — the Force. His instincts obeying its compulsions once more, Zhen'e twisted into a sort of mid-air roll, coupled with a slight telekinetic push on his own body to move it ahead. The completely unnatural maneuver gave the old man a chance to clear more horizontal distance before he lost any vertical, meaning that his descent was now squarely aimed not at the ground floor exit, but the balcony that sat a level above it. Surely this would throw them off... for a moment or two.

Zhen'e was surprised that he had even been able to execute the move he had just then; he hadn't thought his creaking body could handle it. Perhaps he had underestimated himself. Still, having not drawn upon the Force in such a manner for quite some time, the maneuver had cost him a noticeable fraction of his Force reserves. By the time he landed, Zhen'e could already feel the perspiration beginning to appear on his forehead. Wasting no time in making a Force-enhanced sprint for the exit on this floor, the elderly Jedi reinvented his plan of action: he would come out on the other side of the promenade, and depending on the environment there, he would either leap down or stay on the level above. He knew for certain that he would have to play games with his would-be killer now, using the setting to his advantage in whatever way possible. After all, he could only take a taxi out of here once the bounty hunter was sufficiently distracted... or incapacitated. Besides, he would certainly appreciate a few moments to regain his energy.

Working up an old man... by the Force, hasn't this upstart got any manners?

@OhNoesBunnies

 

[Baastique]

She only managed a few more flicks of the trigger before her target managed to inundate himself in another crowd. The brilliant red bolts from her blaster left scorch marks against the distant wall, and despite the shrieks of her great equalizer, the mob of now panicking people only grew thicker. Her teeth ground together in an obscure grimace as she watched him flee once more as frustration began to gnaw at her patience, "Get the krong out of my way!" Pointing the tip of her barrel upwards, Baastique pulled the trigger thrice, sending three blasts into the ceiling above her and scattering the already panicked congregation of useless sheep that blocked her path. They had cleared just in time for her to spot the Jedi again, and two more squeezes of the trigger sent superheated plasma chasing after him with a banshee's wail. Still, she missed.

You aren't getting away that easy!

Determined, even as she watched him spiral through the air towards one of the upper balcony's above the exit, she took off in a full sprint after him. Anyone that got in her way--as a few poor souls did--was bowled over as she passed through them, the rest only barely just managing to split apart as the huntress followed her prey. "Make this easy for yourself, old man!" She yelled out at him, her voice filtered through that familiar vocal processor, coming out as an electronic growl. Just before he could disappear behind the balcony's edge, she fired two more shots, one almost managing to knick the bastard's cloak. Stopping for only a moment within the shadow of the terrace, she reached out for her stubborn companion. "Can you hear me, MR-T?" A series of angry farts and gurgling beeps confirmed that. "Get the Lunchbox into the air now, bare down on my location and shoot any vehicles that try to leave out of the sky."

She knew MR-T abhorred violence unless it was directed at her, so she figured once the Lunchbox was firing away, it would do so only to disable. "If you see an old man running for his life and lookin' like one of those karkin' space wizards, shoot to kill. Or herd him my way!" MR-T of course, protested. Spitting a few insults at her as well. "I don't care about the repairs, get into the air right now or I'll rip your skroggin' photoreceptors from their sockets!" MR-T's response was in the form of a disapproving raspberry, but it confirmed a start-up sequence. She imagined the ugnaughts on the platform were panicking right now. Unable to find a way up like the space wizard had, Baastique started running through the exit below the promenade he'd chosen for refuge, finding a doorway to her left that led to a stairwell.

With barely a handful of bated breaths, she made her way through. Of course, the stairwell was all but empty except for a local couple hopping on the good foot n' doing the bad thing, whom both seemed entirely too occupied to notice Baastique barreling past them to get to the next floor. Despite having a handle, the Falleen slammed into the door with her shoulder, sending it spiraling outward with the force of the impact. Free from its hinges, it smashed into a group of nearby thugs, causing the rest of the nearby crowd of people to quickly scatter as the bounty hunter searched for her prey. She only just managed to spot him, sprinting with incredible speed towards another exit. "No you skroggin' don't!" She yelled at him, quickly flipping her blaster up and firing several shots ahead of him, both in an attempt to lead her target and to stop him from heading to that particular exit.

 

[Zhen'e Ke]

Blaster bolts smashed into the walls and doorway in front of Zhen'e, reflecting an uncompromising determination to prohibit him from passing. They, accompanied by a mechanically distorted yell from his attacker, told him exactly where his intended murderer was coming from. Well, only one thing left to do.

Without breaking his stride, Zhen'e whipped out his lightsaber with his free hand and ignited its sizzling emerald blade. He was sure that that was exactly what his assailant wanted, but what was a little confirmation for someone who was already hellbent on claiming his head just because he was a Jedi?

Batting blaster bolts back at their source, Zhen'e passed through the exit and executed another Force-assisted leap, this time landing behind an assortment of crates that could briefly give him some cover. There, he deactivated his lightsaber blade and reveled in a moment of respite. His assailant would no doubt pursue, and when they did, he would allow the Force to decide his next course of action... for now, it was more important to recuperate. An old man like himself was not used to playing games of this sort, and he could safely say he was already tiring of it.

Even as he kept his Force senses peeled for his attacker's presence, his eyes were peeled for an escape route — and indeed one was quickly coming into view. A taxi was approaching one of the pads that jutted out from the Promenade — surely as good an option as any other for getting away, if only Zhen'e could ensure his attacker wasn't going to just shoot the taxi out of the sky.

@OhNoesBunnies

 

[Baastique]

Bastard, she spat under her breath. A silent swear directed to the flittering meal ticket that was escaping. She had only seconds to react to the reflected blaster fire, with one hot red bolt passing over her shoulder, lightly scorching the heavy clothing wrapped around it. Baastique recovered quickly, however, and was already sprinting after him even though she'd already lost sight. When she reached the next balcony, the bounty hunter came to a near-screeching halt with a quick glance to either side of her, spying only scared onlookers.

And a group of children.

One of them, a Rodian tugging on his parent's arm, was pointing towards the platform across a large chasm, where some conveniently placed crates lay near a local transport hub, with speeders lifting off and settling down. For a moment she thought about leaping off the railing of the balcony and landing gracefully on the platform across, but there was simply too much space between her and it. She may not have been the brightest deathstick in the pack, but she wasn't about to kill herself to keep pursuit... and besides, if he was where she believed him to be, she could simply wait him out until MR-T arrived. Force him out of hiding then and collect her bounty. Holstering her blaster, she reached beneath her heavy cloak and grabbed the sling of her rifle, drawing it up and setting the barrel on the edge of the railing.

"MR-T where the fark are ya?" She hissed into her comms. The little bastard responded with a gurgling electronic belch, alerting her that it was moving in now. So she waited and listened; by now she should have heard the roar of those twin oversized engines and the whining rattling of their aftermarket parts. Instead, she only heard the occasional speeder and transport zipping by, with a chorus of conversations serving as the ambiance of such a busy world. "...You went to the wrong platform, didn't you?" After a moment of silence her little mobile trashcan gave a quiet, confirmative toot.

Baastique hung her head for a moment.

"Great, just track my damn transponder. Go where I am not where I've been you farklin' skrog." Then she readjusted herself and peered through her weapon's optical scope, searching the nearby crowd, the transportation hub itself, and the near platform for any sign. Then she saw the Taxi. "Sorry," she yelled ahead of time. "This port's closed." Her aim moved from the platform to the taxi, and she open fired on it. Three shots to the front and rear of the vehicle were all that was needed, and it came crashing down onto the platform with a noisy cry, exhuming smoke and spitting debris in every direction. Fortunately for the driver, he only had a few scrapes and was already scrambling out of the disabled taxi and making his way towards the inner-promenade. Baastique then resumed the hunt, scanning the area again as panicked onlookers fled and stared in a mixture of horror and awe at the scene that had unfolded.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" She yelled, her vocal processors boosting the sound to reach the opposing platform rather easily.