AN: Dipping my toe into Star Wars now. The very generous Tomb Raider commissioner is fronting this one, but fear not! Tempting Treasure is not being set aside! Hope you enjoy this project as well!
- - -
There was a critter of some sort skittering along the ground. Long, multi-legged, and fast. Then it was gone, vanishing into a pile of filth before Ahsoka got a good look at it. Perhaps that was a blessing. She’d never been big on bugs.
A decade ago, she might have recoiled at the sight of such an ugly little thing. Even back when she was a padawan, learning the ways of the force under Anakin Skywalker, the thought of all those damned legs would send a shiver up her spine. And those long, thin, wiggling antennae… Ugh.
But that was in the past. A lifetime ago. In the present, on the run, all on her own, Ahsoka Tano just kept walking. Walking through the putrid bowels of her newest hideaway.
Grimy masses of grey, white, and black towered all around her, covered in neon green or neon blue or neon red. The surface of the entire moon was covered in this smoking urban sprawl, swallowed up by this cold, grimy decay.
And I thought Coruscant was bad…
Nar Shaddaa, urban moon of the Hutt homeworld. Ahsoka’s newest home.
Far from the Core Worlds. Far from the Empire. A dangerous place, full of smugglers, thieves, and other folk of ill repute. And that made it perfect for laying low. Nobody was going to look twice at someone like her.
Well… almost nobody.
A wolf-whistle sounded off to her right. Then came voices, men’s voices rising into murmurs and crude laughter. Underneath her hood, Ahsoka rolled her eyes.
“Slow down, baby! What’s the rush?” One of her admirers called out.
“Ain’t you gonna stop and say ‘hello’? I’ve missed ya, sweet tails!” Another one boasted even louder. Ahsoka recognized the voice.
Vark, the kriffer, had always been the boldest of this sorry batch.
She didn’t get it. It wasn't like she was flaunting her stuff. Plain cloak over plain clothes, covered near from head to toe. She was all black and grey but for the rich orange of her face and the white-blue of her lekku. Maybe these scudheads just hadn’t seen a woman in a while? Or maybe she really was such an ethereal, entrancing beauty that these fellas lost their wits - what little they had.
Six months on this moon and she still didn’t know what the deal was with Vark and his boys. Were they scrappers? A small-time gang? Low-level enforcers for some Hutt honcho? It didn’t matter. They were an annoyance, that much was certain.
Ahsoka didn’t spare them even the slightest glance. She kept her eyes forward, kept on walking. A small part of her, the part that still held a sliver of optimism, hoped the whistles and catcalls would be all these kriffers had the nerve for. That lasted about a second - her hopes deflated once she sensed that it was just not to be.
A shape swept in front of her, blocking her path. Ahsoka knew he was coming, but that didn’t make it any less obnoxious. She let out a sigh and looked up into the familiar, unwanted sight of Vark’s grimy face.
“Sweet tails, baby, you just gonna walk on by? Act like you didn’t hear me?”
The Oh-So-Charming hunk of man was a Zabrak - though much less imposing than the sort Ahsoka had dealt with. Vark’s skin was a pallid yellow, his teeth browned and filthy, his face gaunt and narrow, set with grey-green eyes that swirled with the sort of interest that made Ahsoka’s skin crawl. He was a tall, willowy fellow, looking scrawny even in his workman’s jumpsuit. He couldn’t be further from Maul if he tried. A whole planet away from the vengeful Sith warrior the former Padawan faced all those years ago.
Ahsoka would still take Maul’s deadly scowl over Vark’s rancid smile.
Even with the man’s breath stinging her nostrils, the former Jedi kept a calm face.
“You’re in my way.” She said plainly.
Vark let out a grating laugh. The other men joined in, their barks and hoots rising up the high walls of the throughway. Ahsoka could sense them moving closer, surrounding her. They might not have meant harm - deadly harm, anyway - but they meant no good, either.
“How else was I gonna get your attention, sweet tails?” Vark reached out to play with the very edge of her hood. “I thought we was good friends? Why you pretending you don’t know me?”
“I’m not the one pretending, Vark. I have no business with you or your little buddies.” Ahsoka spoke as smoothly as she appeared, yet her words held a bite all the same.
Vark blinked - just as he did every time she talked back. And as sure as the worlds turned, his friends ooo-ed and snickered. Like schoolboys.
The smile dropped from the Zabrak’s face. His eyes turned sharp and hot while his face twisted into a sneer. Now he looks like Maul.
“That’s rude. Your daddy never teach you manners, sweet tails?” It was more than plain anger boiling inside him. Ahsoka could sense it. “That’s okay. I can be your daddy tonight-”
He made a grab for her waist. But Ahsoka moved faster.
A quick motion of her hand right in his face. A dip into the energies of the universe, harnessing the power, just enough to alter the perceptions of his mind.
Vark went still, eyes wide like he’d been stunned. Then his eyes rolled back and he was tumbling to the ground. Unconscious.
His boys went quiet at first, no doubt lost for words. Ahsoka could sense them trying to gather their collective wits. One of them started to shout. She waved her hand their way, catching all of them in one swoop. The same technique she used on their illustrious leader.
A simple Jedi mind trick to put them all in for a nice long nap.
She sent six men down into the grime and garbage, all without so much as a single drop of sweat. And they wouldn’t remember a thing when they woke up. Ahsoka allowed herself a faint smile.
All that Jedi training was good for something, at least.
Ahsoka stepped over the slumbering Vark and kept on down the street. Thankfully no one else had seen her little stand-off.
A nice cold drink would put her nerves at ease. Her favorite club was only a few minutes away.
- - -
The warehouse could hardly be called such. No more than a single square unit, just barely bigger than a freight transport. Nestled down here in the narrow valleys between the surface towers, it might have gone completely unnoticed among the piles of scrap and waste.
It might have, if not for the lone armed street tough standing just outside.
Two hours, standing in the same spot. That was more than mere loitering. This man was on watch duty.
Kace clicked his visor over to heat sensors. The world went deep red and the lone sentinel turned into a bright orange silhouette. Through the thin metal walls of the warehouse, Kace spotted five more.
One of them was his payday.
Kace clicked his visor back to standard optics. Under his helmet, he clicked his teeth. Time to go to work.
Nar Shaddaa was a dangerous moon, full of dangerous folks. The average street tough, though? Nothing to lose your nerve over. Not if you knew what you were doing.
Kace had a light step, even in boots. And he’d tinkered enough with his armor that it didn’t clink and rustle like it used to. Poor bastard never heard him coming.
He didn’t press the barrel of his blaster to the back of the guy’s head. That was amateur stuff straight out of a holo. No, kept back some and let out a little whistle when he was close enough.
The street tough, a Duros male, jumped and whirled around.
“What the-” He froze when he saw Kace - and the blaster pointed dead center of his chest.
“Shh.” Kace put a gloved finger up to his helmet, where his mouth would have been. He flicked the barrel of his blaster towards the warehouse door. “We’re gonna take a walk inside. I just wanna have a quick word with your boss.”
The Duros gulped and turned. Silently, he led them both into the grimy, rusty den. As they passed through the heavy metal doors, Kace clicked his visor again, adjusting his vision to the dark of the warehouse interior.
There was chattering inside, Mr. Payday and his other four hired thugs sitting around and shooting the shit. Sloppy, Kace noted. Like he doesn’t really believe he’s in hiding. All the chit-chat died down quickly though, once they saw their friend wasn’t alone.
Five men shot to their feet. Three Humans. Two burly Cathars. Them plus the Duros made this quite the illustrious group. But Kace only had eyes for one of them. A human like himself. Scrawny fellow with long, ratty hair and shrewd, frantic eyes. Dorga Haimes. Worth ten thousand credits minimum.
There was fear written on the skinny man’s face. For a split-second, Kace could see it plain as the sun. It was gone quickly, replaced with a new mask. Cocky and prideful. Dorga wore it well, laughing as he clapped his hands.
“You must have a pair of chromium balls, Korodo.” Dorga called out. He was the furthest man away with five bodies between him and Kace. “Chromium balls and bantha shit for brains!”
“I don’t ever quit a job, Dorga. You know that. Especially not when a Hutt is fronting the credits.”
Kace shoved the Duros fellow in the back, sending him stumbling forth into his motley band. He kept his blaster trained on Dorga and Dorga alone. The rest of the thugs bristled, muttered amongst themselves.
Under his helmet, Kace eyed each of them carefully. Scared targets were dangerous targets. He clicked a button on his palm and let his visor go to work.
“You must have really pissed good ole’ Tobbo off with the price he put on your head.” Kace kept talking.
Up ahead, Dorgo brushed past one of the brawny Cathars, moving slowly. He gave a careless shrug.
“I’m a popular guy these days, what can I say? You start making waves on this moon and suddenly everyone wants a piece.” Dorga’s lips twisted into a sneer. “Even scudsucking, banthafucking, bounty kriffers like you.”
It was Kace’s turn to shrug.
“A job’s a job. This ain’t personal, Dorga.” Inside his helmet came a beep. Soft and quiet so that only he could hear. “You hired some muscle, I see. All new faces.”
The thugs each scowled at him in turn. Like they were being paid to do that, too. Another beep. That makes two.
“Money buys friends.” Dorga retorted flippantly. “And I’ve got more than you.”
“But not more than Tobbo.” Another beep. Three.
“I ain’t afraid of Tobbo the Hutt!” Dorga snapped, stomping forward. He shoved past two of his goons as he did, his sudden fury making him blind to the blaster aimed at his face. “That fat slug knows the game! Everything is for the taking! If you can’t hold it, it’s fair play! And now that I get myself a little slice, he’s running me down? Kriff that!”
“You hid yourself pretty good for a man who's not afraid.” Kace said with dry amusement. “Well… not that good. I found you.”
Another beep sounded. Four.
Up ahead, he could see Dorga visibly fuming. That was good. While Dorga’s blood was boiling, Kace’s ran ice cold.
“Enough!” Dorga slapped one of his goons on the shoulder. “What are you idiots waiting for? There’s only one of him! Shoot this scudsucker already!”
One last beep. Kace smirked.
And that makes five.
The five hired thugs went for their blasters. Some fumbled, while others were halfway competent. None were faster than Kace. Not when his visor had already targeted them all.
Five shots. Five men down and dead.
Leaving Dorga Haimes all alone with Kace Korodo.
The scrawny thief could only sputter in shock, frozen stiff amidst the bodies.
“How- How did you-?”
As Dorga choked on his words, his hands worked clumsily at his gunbelt. All that big talk to not even draw? Second-hand embarrassment rarely stung this bad.
It felt like a full turn of the moon before Dorga managed to get his blaster out. Not that it did him a lick of good. Kace shot it out of his hand the very next instant. The next shot grazed Dorga in the arm. A warning. The ratty thief went down in a heap, howling.
With Mr. Payday writhing on the dirty floor, Kace holstered his blaster and marched up. He reached for the back of his belt, pulling out his next tool.
“Wait!” Dorga cried, desperately waving his good arm. “Don’t- don’t kill me! Please!”
“Relax.” Kace hefted his quarry up by the front of his jacket. “I ain’t gonna kill you.”
He snapped the shock collar open… and clicked it shut around Dorga’s neck. He went around to his back and saw the light on the collar blink red. Locked tight.
Under his helmet, Kace grinned. He patted Dorga on the back, all friendly-like. Then shoved him forward.
“Payment’s double for a live haul. And there ain’t no way I’m carrying you back to Tobbo’s club.”
- - -
Pulsing lights. Booming music. A sea of dancing bodies.
Perhaps the nightlife back on Coruscant was similar, but Ahsoka never got the chance to partake. Padawan training never left her much time to go out on the town. Then the Clone Wars came and brought a whole new set of problems. No time for fun and frolic between the battles and the kidnappings and daring escapes.
As absurd as it seemed, the years since she left the Jedi Order left Ahsoka with a certain freedom. She might have been on the run, forced to lay low on one world or another, but she didn’t have to deal with all those silly, archaic Jedi rules anymore.
No more smothering her own emotions. No more pointless trials. No more rigid schedule.
Personal freedom. She could go to any nightclub she wanted. Any club, any time.
And it only cost the Galactic Republic…
Though she learned pretty quickly that nightclubs just weren’t her style. Too loud, too cramped, and too many creeps who liked to get handsy. She liked the drinks well enough. Most of the time.
That’s why she found herself here, in Tobbo the Hutt’s newest dance pad. Morally bankrupt the ugly slug might have been, the club bar was top of the line. Who said crime doesn’t pay?
And at least Tobbo’s bouncers kept things mostly in order. Not like the dive bars dotting the rest of the moon. Every one, without fail, was prone to brawls. Sometimes they got deadly. That was Nar Shaddaa for you.
And so Ahsoka Tano pushed through the twisting and thrashing bodies that flooded the dance floor. She could see the bar - and her favorite droid bartender, Tip-10. The pulsing lights gleamed bright on the polished dome of his head. Or was that his torso?
Ten pairs of thin mechanical arms working, shaking, stirring. One of them was meant for her. A nice, stiff drink. That’s all she wanted.
Almost there…
A body stepped in her way. Twi’lek male. Lean and wiry. Deep red skin. Leering at her.
“Hey, pretty lady-”
“I’m not your type.”
His smile dropped. He blinked his dark eyes. Like he was dazed.
“You’re not my type.” He agreed faintly.
“You should go home.” Ahsoka continued calmly. Firmly. “Clear your head. Learn how to talk to women.”
“I should… go home.” The man was nodding now. “Clear my head. Learn how to talk to women.”
He turned away from her. Disappeared into the crowd. Ahsoka let out a sigh as she watched him go.
So many weak minds on this moon.
It was no shock that they were drawn to a place like this. A club like this.
Ahsoka turned her eyes up high to the platforms fixed over the dance floor, noting the entertainment. More like a skinshow, she thought dryly. A dozen scantily clad bodies twisted and turned, matching the pulsing beat of the music. There was no elegance here, only base, primal hunger. A mating dance - yet held just out of reach. Meant to tease and torment… and hopefully drive some sorry sap to shell out credits for a private dance.
Most of the dancing girls were Twi’leks. That wasn’t a surprise. Natural flexibility. Ahsoka remembered how that came in handy more than once for Master Aayla Secura. But she could see none of Secura’s bravery and cunning in the Twi’leks bending themselves every which way above her. And those outfits, barely there nettings that hung loose over supple thighs and heaving breasts.
There were human dancers as well, wearing even less. “Skirts” that were really narrow loincloths, leaving every inch of their long, well-formed legs on display. Tops that were so snug, their bosoms shook and quaked as if they weren’t covered at all. The human girls might not have been as flexible as the Twi’leks, but they more than made up the difference with their sheer effort. Damn, were those bodies glistening.
Ahsoka spotted a couple of Chiss dancers among the elevated flock. Blue and lithe and limber with inviting red eyes. Adorned in nothing but leather straps.
There was even a Togruta, like herself. Sensual and shapely with rich red skin. Full bodied and wearing nothing at all. As the woman slid her hands up her body, cupping her full, firm breasts, Ahsoka found herself thinking back to Master Shaak Ti. The galaxy was lesser without her wisdom.
Tearing her eyes from the naked women, Ahsoka found herself frowning. She really wanted that drink now.
Again she made for the bar, for Tip-10… only for someone to bump her in the back.
“You don’t need to do this!” A man spoke in a panicked, weaselly voice.
“How else am I gonna get paid?” Another man shot back. His voice was deeper. Stronger. Clear, even through the blaring music.
Ahsoka turned and saw. Two men, one ratty and gaunt, wearing a shock collar. A slave? A prisoner? The other man was tall and broad, armored and helmeted. Dark silver plate over a black suit. Upon his helmet, a narrow red visor crossed where his eyes would be.
Ahsoka’s pulse quickened, reminded some of the helmets the clone troopers used to wear. The armored man was guiding the first from behind, one big hand clamped firmly on his slumped shoulder, pushing him through the crowd. Or at least, he was. They had stopped. The scrawny man was struggling.
“C’mon, Korodo! I got credits! I can pay-”
“You don’t have enough to beat Tobbo’s offer.” The armored man - Korodo, Ahsoka caught - rumbled from under his helmet. “I didn’t bring you here for chit-chat. Move it.”
A bounty hunter, Ahsoka realized with some distaste.
The hunter shoved the scrawny man forward. He made to keep going, and just so happened to turn his head her way. For a moment that red visor met Ahsoka’s eyes. A second passed, then another. Ahsoka tensed, thinking then that the bounty hunter might try to flirt with her like the other men.
He only gave a short nod.
“Miss.” He said, tactfully. “Pardon us.”
The bounty hunter ushered his quarry along. It wasn’t long before they too disappeared into the crowd.
Polite. Ahsoka, to her own shock, found herself curious. Never met a mercenary with manners before.
Her gaze lingered on the crowd for a moment longer. But only for a moment. The bar was waiting for her.
She reached Tip-10 quickly enough after that. Took a stool for herself and settled in. To her relief, one of his ten pairs of arms was open for business.
“Corsekka Brandy.” She ordered. “Tall. Iced.”
- - -
Dorga, the poor bastard, begged and pleaded right up until Tobbo’s men gagged him. Kace took his shock collar back and they tossed the little guy over into the corner. It was time to conclude business.
The back room was big, spacious with a high ceiling - necessary to house someone like Tobbo the Hutt. The slug was perched up on a low, wide dais, seemingly resting upon his own mass. There were two Twi’lek girls lounging against each of his flanks - there was more than enough room for them both - though neither seemed particularly interested in the dealings of their master. Their job was simply to look pretty.
The rest of Tobbo’s company were his men. Armed, armored, nasty-looking fellows, near a dozen of them. And with Kace there along with his recent haul, it was starting to feel downright crowded.
Not that Tobbo seemed to mind.
“Never have I been more pleased to receive such an ugly, pathetic prize.” The club owner belched in his native Huttese. “And in so little time.”
The wrinkly folds of Tobbo’s face contorted, though Kace could not tell if he was smiling. Could Hutts smile at all? At least he sounded happy.
“I had to stay ahead of the competition. Plenty of bounty hunters working on this moon.” Kace tipped his chin up with pride. Just an inch, though.
“But not all possess your sense of urgency. A mark in your favor.”
“I prefer credits.”
Tobbo let out a deep laugh, so deep that Kace felt it rattle his bones. The two Twi’leks smiled and hummed sweetly, squirming upon the shelf that was the Hutt’s lower half. A greener man would have found himself distracted. But not Kace Korodo. Those Hutt eyes, big and golden and too damn cunning, they were blinking down at him.
“Of course. Of course. You brought this cheating vermin to me alive.” Tobbo gestured towards Dorga bound and gagged in the far corner. “I said I would pay double, yes?”
“That’s what you said.” Kace eyed his quarry, now curious. “You planning on having your own fun with him?”
“Nothing so barbaric.” The folds that made up Tobbo’s brow all pinched in. Was he insulted? “Dorga Haimes owes me a debt. I cannot profit off a corpse - no matter how satisfying his end might be. He will earn me credits, one way or another. To make up what he stole from me… and the price of his capture. On that note: pay the man!”
One of Tobbo’s men, a Nautolan with black tattoos lining his jaw and chin, came up to Kace and slapped a flat, metal object in his palm. A golden credit chip. Even in the dim light of the back room, it gleamed.
Twenty thousand credits in the palm of his hand. Kace slipped it under his chest plate. Safer than any of his pockets.
“Pleasure doing business.” He told the Hutt. As he turned to go, Tobbo’s voice rumbled out again.
“Feel free to enjoy my club on your way out, bounty hunter. There might be more pleasure to be had.” The Hutt let out a chuckle, but it was different from the one before. This was lower, somehow sleazier. And Kace could not ignore the way the slug’s fat hand settled on one Twi’lek girl’s bare shoulders. “Tonight, your drinks are on the house!”
Kace agreed to nothing, but departed with a respectful nod. Tough luck for Dorga, but that just wasn’t his problem. Not anymore. He passed back into the main club twenty thousand credits richer.
This time he decided to let the sights and sounds distract him. The music pounded at his helmet, the lights flashed at his visor, and the smells of sweat, booze, and other things swept in even through the air filters.
So many bodies, so much dancing. The club was lively alright. So lively he could hardly hear himself think. Though that was the point, wasn’t it? Nobody came to a place like this to think.
Kace turned his gaze to the platforms up high, drinking in the sight of a dozen lovely ladies wearing so little they may as well have been nude. Twi’leks and Humans and Chiss, so many flavors of woman to admire. Suddenly the credit chip felt heavy in his chest plate.
Maybe one of the dancers up there would be his company tonight. Maybe two of them. Kace had always been ambitious.
He tore his eyes from the skinshow. Shook his head. That’s when he spotted her.
The Togruta woman from before. The one with the hood. She still had it up over her head, he saw. Odd fashion choice for a nightclub. Especially when she was seated at the bar. That had him curious.
There was something about her face that struck him when she first caught his eye, but Kace couldn’t place it. It was almost like she was familiar. But he never knew a Togruta girl before, not personally. This woman was a stranger.
Yet Kace found it difficult to look away. There was something about this woman he just couldn’t shake.
Maybe it was something. Maybe it was nothing. Or maybe he was just horny.
Kace made for the bar.
Why not? Tobbo said drinks were on the house.