Private Full Circle

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Bonadan - The Vergeworks - Sector 9G

Equipment:
Training Jumpsuit | Lightsaber | Modified DL-27

It had been almost a year since Acier last set foot in the Vergeworks. Sector 9G. His old stomping grounds. Home. The same rusted stalls, over-fried noodles, blinking neon signs half-flickering out of sync. The polluted air clung to his skin like memory, thick with grease, metal, and desperation. It hadn't changed.

But he had. No longer the same orphaned street rat, scraping for survival, a nobody - he was a Verd, the son of a Sith Lord, brother of Mand'alor. And now, he was stronger in the Force. He was powerful. Someone. And he wasn't going to keep running. Hiding. Not anymore. Ace hadn't come home for the pleasantries, he'd come back to finally put an end to his feud with Tessk.

As Ace passed the maze of stalls. He caught glimpses of faces he swore he knew - silhouettes etched into memory. But no one spared him a second look. Memories of his childhood flashed in his mind with every step he took. He remembered being six, conning and pickpocketing with the other kids at the orphanage. There was another memory, he was twelve, cruising through the strip with Red eagerly listening to one of his many stories. Fourteen, elbow deep in a busted repulsor engine with Mira, listening to her life advice.

"Ace...?"

The voice was hesitant, almost unsure. Acier turned to face the direction of whoever had recognized him. A boy, no... a young man now, stood near a crate filled with who knows what. Kiffar, slim, tan jacket and tattoos down his neck.

"Risk? That you?"

Risk grinned at the confirmation, teeth were chipped just the same "Knew it was you, Snowhead! Didn't think I'd see your mug again."

"Yeah, well... here I am." Ace offered a quick nod, but didn't slow down.

Ace and Risk weren't close, the Kiffar was a couple years Ace's senior - stupid too. Despite the small age gap, Ace found himself begrudgingly helping Risk out of situations he'd gotten himself into. Still, it was good to see him strangely enough. Maybe it was the nostalgia.

"What're you doing back here, Snowhead? You know Tessk still wants your head on a stick." he muttered, leaning in to make sure no one could hear.

"Exactly why I'm here." he responded curtly.

Risk blinked "What? Are you crazy?!" he exclaimed in a hushed tone "A lot's changed since you've been gone, man. Tessk runs the Vergeworks now."

"Don't matter to me."

Risk exhaled, almost like a laugh. "You got bigger. And braver... or stupider."

"You got older."

"Yeah… we all did. Just not all of us got out."

Ace finally stopped. He looked at Risk, really looked at him - the wear in his eyes, the way he kept glancing over his shoulder like old habits had never died. It was easy to forget that they were cut from the same cloth. Both in circumstance and upbringing. Ace rummaged through his pockets and placed a sum of credit chits in Risk's palm.

"You should clear out, Risk. It'll look bad if any of Tessk's snitches see you with me."

Risk closed his hand, offering Ace a real smile before nodding "You've changed. Normally you were the quiet, crafty one trying to avoid trouble. Not start it."

Ace turned his head, looking toward where he needed to go, clenching his fists "Yeah, well. Sometimes you need to start trouble to finish it."

Rheyla Tann
​

 

[Rheyla Tann]

The air in Sector 9G hadn’t improved since the last time she was here. Still tasted like burnt coolant and old stimsticks, laced with that industrial tang that clung to your skin no matter how many showers you took after. Rheyla tugged her scarf higher, one lekku twitching under the wrap as she sidestepped a leaking fuel drum and ducked beneath a buzzing neon sign that read SHRIMP (PROBABLY).

It was the kind of place where everything was too loud and too quiet at once. Crowds pressed in, but everyone kept to their own lane. Eyes down, credits tight, mouths shut.

Perfect for a quick drop.

She slipped into the shadowed alley between a spice den and a droid chop shop, where her contact was already waiting—a jittery Rodian named Vesso who looked like he hadn’t slept in three rotations.

“Y-you got it?” he stammered, glancing over his shoulder like the alley walls were listening.

Rheyla tilted her head. “You got my credits?”

He handed over a small chit. She caught it, didn’t even bother hiding the way she held it up to the flickering light and checked the amount.

“Short me,” she said flatly, “and I’ll start asking where your real boss is. Bet they don’t stutter as much.”

Vesso’s breath hitched. “N-no shorting! Just—just tight margins lately, yeah? Fragging tariffs and—”

She handed over the crate before he could finish. Sealed, unmarked, and still humming faintly from the cold unit inside. She didn’t ask what was in it. He didn’t offer.

“Next time,” she said, already turning to go, “send someone less twitchy. You’re gonna give yourself a stroke.”

She left him there muttering to himself and stepped back into the main thoroughfare. The street opened up ahead—louder now, the crowd thicker. Blinking signs, cheap synth music, vendors hawking everything from bootleg spice to roasted gizka on sticks. Somewhere, a pair of security droids barked orders in binary and shoved a drunken Nikto into the gutter.

Her stomach growled.

Stars, when was the last time she ate?

She adjusted the strap on her hip—blaster riding low, knives where they belonged—and let herself blend into the slow-moving tide of bodies. The scent of fried something hit her from across the lane, and she locked on like a predator.

She passed a figure heading the other way—blue jumpsuit, silver hair, familiar height.

Didn’t register.

Not consciously.

Just another shadow in a place built from them.

She brushed past without looking back.

The food stall was still there, miraculously. A dented durasteel counter built into a wall with a half-functioning vent hood, and a small, hunched Besalisk behind it flipping skewers with one hand and pouring caf with another.

“Rheyla,” he grunted without looking up. “Didn’t think you’d come back.”

She dropped a few credits on the counter and leaned on her elbows. “Didn’t think your place would still be standing.”

He snorted. “What’ll it be?”

“Nerf skewer, double spice. And stimcaf. Extra stim.”

“Rough day?”

“Haven’t slept. Haven’t eaten. Just finished babysitting a crate of whatever-the-hell that vibrates when you touch it.”

The Besalisk just grunted again, the smell of sizzling meat hitting her like a slap.

Rheyla let out a quiet sigh and stared into the street behind her—unaware of who she’d just passed, and how quickly the past had decided to catch up, before turning her attention back to her old friend.

Acier Moonbound​

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Bonadan - The Vergeworks - Sector 9G

​

Equipment:
Training Jumpsuit | Lightsaber | Modified DL-27

Acier didn't notice the food stall across the strip. Didn't see the Twi'lek with her back to the street. He didn't even smell the skewers sizzling behind the durasteel counter. Ace's attention was forward, and focused.​

​

It didn't take long, but he felt something. A shift in the Force. Or, a 'disturbance', as some would call it. Ace stopped in place, the river of people continued to pass him as he scanned his surroundings for whatever was wrong. Eyes darting, he wondered if it was the Weequay at the bantha burger stall, the Trandoshan skulking around the alley, or the human with the cybernetics tracking too closely.​

​

Then he felt something else. Almost involuntarily, his nerves fired and he reacted - left hand snapped to his lightsaber and yanking it free. It hissed alive, deflecting a blaster bolt into a stall - smoke curled off the burnt durasteel. The crowd dispersed, panicking and screaming.​

​

A Duros emerged from the chaos, blaster pistol still smoking. "You got a lot of nerve coming back here, Moonbound. You a Jedi now or something?" he called out, aiming his pistol at Ace once more.​

​

Ace blocked another blaster bolt, form still imperfect, but it was enough to deal with the likes of Lon Vann - one of Tessk's lackeys. Ace had done a few low-risk jobs with him back when he was still a street rat.​

​

"Or something. Good to see you, Lor." he replied, unbothered.​

​

Lor shot off a few more bolts, they tore through the air but Ace haphazardly blocked them - swiping each one away. Ace threw his arm out reached out. Lor's blaster jerked free, ripped from his grip, landing clean in Ace's off-hand. He gave it a brief look over, then returned his gaze to Lor. Without even looking, Ace flicked his lightsaber up, slicing the the barrel of the pistol.​

​

Ace stepped forward toward Lor. The crowd seemed to calm down once the skirmish ended as abruptly as it started, the screaming stopped and stares ensued. He halted in front Lor, lightsaber still humming - a knife through the silence.​

​

"Let's catch up." he said with a crooked smirk, jerking his head toward the nearest alley.​

​

Rheyla Tann​

​

 

[Rheyla Tann]

She was halfway through her skewer when the world snapped.

It started as a shift—too sharp, too sudden. A ripple in the crowd, the kind that didn’t come from shouting or shoving but from danger. Something cutting through the rhythm of the street like a blade through canvas.

Then came the screaming.

The Besalisk ducked behind the counter—three arms over his head, one still clutching the caf pot like it was a lifeline. Rheyla didn’t move at first. She just turned, chewing slowly, gaze narrowing as a sabre flared to life across the street.

A lightsaber. Not imagination. Not a guess.

She brought her caf to her lips and took a sip, then stopped mid-drink.

Her eyes locked on the figure holding the blade—silver hair, taller than she remembered, stance still a little too defensive to be seasoned. But no question: it was him.

She snorted once and nearly choked. “…You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Wiping her mouth with the back of her sleeve, she leaned against the food stall counter and glanced back at the vendor. “You alright, Durrg?”

The Besalisk gave a grunt from behind the counter. “Could use fewer customers with lightsabers, thanks.”

She nodded and set down the credits she owed on the counter, plus a little extra. “For emotional trauma,” she muttered.

Then, food in one hand, caf in the other, she stepped out from under the awning and back into the street—close enough to watch, far enough to stay uninvolved.

From here, she could see it clearly now.

Of all the people to drop back into her life, Sparkleboy hadn’t even made the list.

He was taller now—actually taller. Not just trying to be. And he looked less like a skittish street kid about to bolt. Still stupid, apparently, judging by the lightsaber on full display in the middle of Sector 9G, but… different.

She didn’t move closer.

Didn’t draw a weapon.

Didn’t feel like playing a hero. Especially not for him.

But she couldn’t help herself.

She took another bite of her skewer, chewed, and called out just loud enough to carry over the noise:

“You sure know how to make an entrance. Subtle as ever, her Sparkleboy?” Raising her caf as a mock salute.

Acier Moonbound​

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Bonadan - The Vergeworks - Sector 9G

​

Equipment:
Training Jumpsuit | Lightsaber | Modified DL-27

A voice carried over the silence. Feminine and familiar. Then it all clicked when he heard Sparkleboy. Ace turned to meet the familiar voice and there she was - her blue skin standing out in the crowd of onlookers. She looked the same. Same scarf, same deadpan stare, same way she stood.

She hadn't really changed. But something in the way he looked at her had. The way she raised her caf like a toast, unbothered and unimpressed - it made something shift in his chest. Not dramatic. Just… there.

He didn't smile. Didn't say anything clever. Just watched her for a second too long before answering.

"Rheyla. Long time no see."

At this point, and with how much better he understood the Force - he was completely unphased by their repeated chance encounters. Ace turned back to Lor, again he waved his lightsaber toward the alley. Wordlessly, he complied and made his way over with Ace following close behind.

Extinguishing his lightsaber, he stepped toward the Duros threateningly. He wasn't cautious anymore, nor analytical. Not really. He didn't need to be. Ace was more than capable of handling himself now.

"Where's Tessk?" he asked, voice low.

Lor chuckled, feigning bravado but Acier sensed the tremor under it. Jittery, scared, and sweating through his jacket. Even in the shade. The Force made it easy now. Easy to feel the cracks. The tension in Lor's spine. The lie in his grin.

"You skip town for almost a year, come back with fancy Jedi training, and think you can take on Tessk?" Lor answered.

"Uh-uh." Ace took a step forward "Try again."

Lor's mouth opened, then closed. The air between them grew heavier, not just from the heat or the silence, but from the weight of something else. Something Lor couldn't name but felt. Lor's fear deepened, twisting, curling. Ace sensed it all. He liked it. Not in a cruel way, not exactly. But after a lifetime of scrambling, scraping, running from people like Lor and Tessk - feeling this? It was power. And for once, it was his.

He didn't need to raise his voice. Didn't need to draw his saber again. The silence between them was louder than anything. And finally, Lor cracked.

"He's holed up in the old Sunspot plant, out by the docks. Place has been dead for years, but Tessk moved in, turned it into his own little throne room. Got muscle on every catwalk and cams on the doors. You walk in loud, you're not walking out."

Ace raised his arm and Lor flinched, he lightly tapped the Duros cheek disrespectfully.

"Appreciate it, Lor. Weren't so hard, was it?"

He turned to leave the alley before stopping once more, back facing the Duros - Ace turned his head to meet Lor's crimson eyes. He ignited his lightsaber without a word.

"If you're lying. I'll find you." it was an empty threat, but Lor had always given him grief, even as a kid. It was worth it, putting some more fear into him.

Ace extinguished the blade and stepped back into the light of the street. The crowd hadn't fully returned, but the noise was rising again - footsteps, voices, a vendor shouting something about half-priced nerf skewers. He didn't rush. He moved with purpose now, toward the docks. Toward Tessk.

He didn't glance across the street. Didn't check to see if she was still watching. But something in him said she was.

Rheyla Tann
​

 

[Rheyla Tann]

He turned.

Didn’t smirk. Didn’t grin. Just looked at her—long enough to say it wasn’t a coincidence, short enough to make it clear he wasn’t stopping.

“Rheyla. Long time no see.”

Then he vanished into the alley, lightsaber still lit, dragging whatever mess he’d just stepped into behind him.

Rheyla didn’t follow.

She took another slow sip of her caf, eyes lingering on the crowd as it started to stitch itself back together. The tension still hung there, faint and sticky, like the smoke curling from a scorched food stall sign across the strip.

Her gaze drifted toward the alley again.

Still taller. Still stupid. But something about him had changed. There was weight behind his steps now. Intent. The lightsaber didn’t look borrowed anymore.

She blew out a soft breath, leaned one elbow on the counter, and muttered, “Still has a flair for drama…”

Behind her, Durrg snorted. “With that one? Probably both.”

She smirked faintly, took one last bite of her skewer, and finally looked away from the alley.

Didn’t mean she wasn’t thinking about it.

Didn’t mean she wasn’t already calculating how far the docks were.

But for now, she just leaned on the counter, watching the city come back to life around her—caf in hand, eyes half-lidded, and a familiar ache forming behind her temples.

She placed another credit chit on the counter with a sigh and nodded toward the grill. “One more for the road, Durrg. Still hungry.”

The Besalisk grunted, already skewering another stick of nerf like nothing had happened.

Rheyla took it without a word and turned—just in time to catch a glimpse of silver hair leaving the alley.

Sparkleboy.

Same stride, but more grounded. Less hesitation, more purpose. He didn’t look back. Didn’t check if anyone was following. Just moved through the crowd like someone with a plan.

She stood there a moment, chewing slowly, watching him fade deeper into Sector 9G.

Two sides pulled at her.

One told her to sit down, finish her food, recharge, and head back to the ship. The smart side. The professional side. The part of her that didn’t chase ghosts just because they wandered back into frame.

The other side?

It wanted to see what kind of chaos he was walking into. How fast he’d light that sabre again. How long it would take before the kid found a mess he couldn’t walk out of.

She rolled the skewer between her fingers, eyes still fixed down the street.

“Ten credits says Sparkleboy gets in over his head but makes it all the way,” she said casually, still watching.

Behind her, Durrg scratched his chin with one thick finger. “Twenty says the kid gets himself killed before he gets wherever he’s going.”

Rheyla smirked. “Nah. He might be annoying—and has way too much bravado for his own good—but he’s got a good head on his shoulders.”

She paused, then glanced back over her shoulder at Durrg.

“Never tell him I said that.”

She grabbed the second stick she’d already paid for, gave her caf a final sip, and stepped off the curb.

“You’ve got yourself a wager,” she added with a smirk, then moved in the direction Ace had disappeared—boots steady, expression unreadable.

After all, she told herself, she was just gonna watch.

Probably.

Acier Moonbound​

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Bonadan - The Vergeworks - Sector 9G

​

Equipment:
Training Jumpsuit | Lightsaber | Modified DL-27

Acier continued to the docks, and as he did so, he could feel something in proximity. A presence that was new but held the sense of familiarity. Since he began his training, he could sense so much more now - it was like all the little details in a tapestry that was the galaxy.

It lingered like a pleasant smell, except he could feel it. It evoked a calmness like a quiet melody wrapped in a layer of vigilance - like a predator deciding if the reward was higher than the risk. Intuitively, he knew who this was. Although he hadn't seen her in months, he recognized her presence in the Force, only now he saw more.

Ace continued on, allowing her to follow and pretending to be none the wiser. He led the pair into an abandoned maintenance tunnel. It was quiet, echoey, with flickering utility lights. Old tools had been left behind and you can hear distant hums from active city systems, but no one came down here anymore.

He stopped in place, turning to face her whenever she'd made her way over. Ace crossed his arms and smirked at her, the same one he gave when he had helped with the Scourhawk's repairs way back when.

"Still keeping an eye on me?" he said, smirk unwavering.

Ace relaxed his arms and moved over to an old workbench, leaning himself against it. It was metal, rusted and covered in dust with a cover stretched over it. It'd for sure seen better days.

"Sorry about earlier, had to keep up appearances and all." he said half-heartedly "The hell are you doing in my old stomping grounds anyway?"

Rheyla Tann
​

 

[Rheyla Tann]

The tunnel was quiet in that way only old, forgotten places could be. That dead kind of quiet that hums beneath the surface—power lines still alive, but nobody listening.

She didn’t announce herself.

Didn’t need to.

Ace turned before she reached him, smirk already waiting on his face like he’d known she was there all along.

Figures.

“Still keeping an eye on me?”

Rheyla raised a brow, took a slow bite of her second skewer, and spoke around it.

“With the way you get into trouble? Nah. But whatever helps you sleep at night, Sparkleboy.”

She chewed, didn’t rush. Let the silence stretch. When he moved to the bench, all relaxed bravado and casual lean, she could almost hear the ghost of the kid she dropped off on Ord Mantell. Only now, the act was less act.

"Sorry about earlier, had to keep up appearances and all. The hell are you doing in my old stomping grounds anyway?"

She took a final sip from her now-lukewarm caf and tossed the empty cup into a rusted bin by the wall.

“Didn’t know they stamped your name on Sector 9G. Could’ve used the heads up.”

Her tone was flat, but her eyes never left him—calculating, curious, weighing if the calm in him was real or just a better mask than last time.

She let that hang a beat longer, then added with a shrug, “I was here for a job. You interrupted my breakfast and dinner.”

Pause. Then:

“Though it’s a miracle you’re still in one piece, considering you lit up that sabre like a damn flare in the middle of the Vergeworks.” She leaned against the opposite wall, mirroring him—one boot hooked behind the other, arms crossed, skewer still in hand.

She leaned against the opposite wall, mirroring him—one boot hooked behind the other, arms crossed, skewer still in hand. “Lemme guess.” She gestured vaguely with the half-eaten skewer.

“You came back to make peace with the past. Walk the streets barefoot. Maybe hug it out with your childhood enemies?”

A beat.

“Or—crazy thought—you decided to stir up a hornet’s nest for old time’s sake and figured, ‘hey, why not do it with a lightsaber this time?’”

She took another bite, chewed.

“Tell me I’m close.”

Acier Moonbound​

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Bonadan - The Vergeworks - Sector 9G

​

Equipment:
Training Jumpsuit | Lightsaber | Modified DL-27

Yep, definitely still the same Rheyla. All snark and bite, with hardly any room for tendness. Well, from what he knew about her, Ace deduced this was her own messed up way of displaying fondness.

The Twi'lek confessed she was, of course, here on business. Made sense, why else would she be on Bonadan - the Vergeworks specifically. It was his childhood home, but didn't mean there was any sort of affection for it. Ace raised his hands in a playful gesture that said 'sorry' upon hearing he'd 'interrupted' her breakfast and dinner.

Ace folded his arms again, waiting patiently, and eyeing her down as she waved her around her skewer trying to guess what it was he was here for. Not missing any chance to throw her special brand of banter his way.

Lifting his left hand, Ace rocked his hand left and right "Getting there." he answered.

He pushed himself off the workbench and took a few steps toward her confidently. Stopping within arm's reach of her, he really noticed the difference now. When he last saw Rheyla, he could barely see over her head. But now? Wasn't so much the case anymore. His brown eyes lingered on her, almost as if he was analyzing her. She really was the same. But... it was like he saw her differently now.

Ace rested his knuckles on his hips, offering her a smirk "You remember that bounty on me, right?"

It was rhetorical, of course she did. Its the reason the pair even met in the first place.

"Well, the past few weeks its been like I've got this giant stamp on my forehead that says 'hunt me'. Bounty hunters are finding me every other day. Even had a scrap with your buddy, Dro. He says hi, by the way."

He let his words hang, that last part was sure to catch her attention. Ace averted his gaze finally, taking a step back and unclipped his lightsaber from his belt, tossing it lightly in the air. The hilt spun before falling back into his palm, he repeated the gesture a few more times as he continued to talk.

"Figured enough was enough. So, I'm back here for Tessk. To get him to clear my bounty." he paused "Or else."

There was no levity in his voice, he was serious. Certain, that today would go his way. Another moment passed, his eyes found hers again - expression still stern, still confident.

"Question is: are you coming? Or are you just gonna stand around and watch?" he asked, almost challenging her.

Rheyla Tann
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