Private New Beginnings

[Alakor]

Nar Shadaa
​

The Smuggler's Moon, or so it was called. An ecumenopolis of enormous sizes, it provided the perfect place for a new beginning: or at least, someone who wished to have a new beginning. A year into his run away from the One Sith's successor, the Sith Empire, Alakor had, through sheer lack, been able to leave a cold trail on another planet. With a new identity, he immediately jumped ship to the farthest planet he could find; the Hutt Worlds being his next destination.

It had been a difficult few months for him in the planet. Not knowing the local languages in an ecumenical world, he could only speak broken basic. For all he had learned in the Sith, he was very limited in it's wider application. He only knew how to fight, and on top of that, he could only handle melee blades, and was useful in CQC. Trading one master for another, the only way he found he could make a living was through gladiator combat, where it appeared he had made a small name for himself.

The Broken Beast; The Man With No Face
​

It appeared that there were many nicknames that had been given to him. He knew that he had to maintain his identity a secret, and with so many other gladiatorial sporting events in the Smuggler's Moon, he had a good chance of maintaining his cover, until Sith Intelligence decide to return back to his such.

Many had attempted to befriend him. Whether it was primarily to learn who he was, or to befriend him in the hopes of usurping his new found fame, all their attempts had been rejected. He had seen enough cruelty among the Sith to realize he couldn't take any chances, and he knew with many gladiators being slaves, he had no intention comprising any independence he gained.

The sector which Alakor resided would have interested force users though. There were many artifacts that would be smuggled here, and at one of the more, crime related parts of Nar Shadaa, it offered ample opportunity for individuals to investigate, for whatever reason that brought them to the Smuggler's Moon.

 

[Eugen Aker]

Someone had once told her that there was no greater hive of scum and villainy than Mos Eisley.

All it took was a single walk through Nar Shaddaa to prove that assessment wrong. Within five minutes of leaving a local spaceport from a chartered freighter, about five or six people had already tried to pick pocket her on the way out of the terminal. Dirty deals for drugs and other contraband practically happened in the open, while prostitutes slinked about outside the terminal offering their various services for incoming visitors (their surly pimps lurking around within shouting distance). Reeking homeless roamed the walkways pushing little hovercarts full of refuse. Faint blasterfire could be heard off in the distance - a drive by, one of many that night.

The Smuggler's Moon was living up to its infamous reputation.

The Jedi tried to keep a low profile, hair dyed and dressed down in common street wear to fit in. That didn't stop the occasional hustler from approaching her offering some shady transaction, making their attempt at pick pocketing, or even just making a grab at the "goods". She began to ward them away with a light touch of telepathy, giving them the sensation of ever growing nausea the closer they came.

With her immediate problems taken care of, she began to study a map on a small datapad. The arena was quite a ways away, several kilometers away from the spaceport where she had landed. Much too far to hoof it on foot and make it in time.

Time to find a ride.

[member="Alakor"]

 

[Alakor]

Indeed, it was best that [member="Jyoti Nooran"] should get a ride.

Over the past few months, the organizers had spent all the money they had promoting the gladiatorial event in this parts of Nar Shadaa. Many people enjoyed it, mostly because it made them forget the troubles that came in residing in the Smuggler's Moon. That was what the organizers had capitalized own, gaining them millions of credits, while also being the cause of many deaths, slaves or otherwise.

The Ephicanthix had also noticed that there were representatives of people in the upper elechons of the galaxy who had wanted a bodyguard. Others only wished for slaves. He had even heard rumors that a Sith had attempted to recruit someone: all the more reason that he had to be careful, for he never knew what enemies that fate would put up against him.

Alakor had been informed that for the event, the organizers had decided to have anyone challenge him. in the event that no one had challenged him, they would bring out there own contestant, and it appeared that was the case. When he had been informed of this, he suddenly felt an enormous amount of pain subsisting in him. Vivid memories of his time in the Sith returned; he knew the tactics of Sith Intelligence. He knew how ruthless they were, and this organizers unknowingly had given them the opportunity to eliminate him for escaping.

Remember what they did to you. It won't happen again

Suddenly, Alakor felt motivation, or perhaps it was adrenaline kicking in. He didn't really know what just happened, but he knew the promise he had made. An eternal promise that he hoped to carry out in his life.

Never again

Never again would he be subject to that type of torture and humiliation. Never would he endure such trials. He intended to stay alive, and having lived in the underworld his entire life, he didn't mind getting his hands dirty to get the job done.

As time went on, the noises in the crowd grow bigger and bigger. More gladiators passed by him, his face being covered by his mask. He looked deeply at each of them, staring at them and attempting to memorize as much as he could as to what possible weaknesses his would-be opponent might have.

He knew that the crowd hey demanded a fight: they demanded blood to suit their sadistic tastes. He didn't know who he was going to fight, but he intended to make sure he came out on top, one way or another.

 

[Eugen Aker]

It didn't take her too long to find a ride, yellow taxis trawling the streets and airways for passengers. She waved one down, one street level taxi coming to a gentle stop. However, just as it was making its approach to her on the sidewalk, a second airspeeder dived from the air and blocked the progress of the first as it swooped down beside Jyoti. Nearby trash on the ground blew away by small whirlwinds created in its wake.

On Nar Shaddaa, competition for ridership was fierce.

"Hey, hey! I'll get you where I you need to go, lickety split!" a jovial Duros said from within the cab.

"You stupid arse, almost fething killed me!" the first cabbie shouted from behind. "I should throttle you!"

The Duros broke out into a cheeky grin, several gold capped teeth on display, then extended his hand from the driver's window. In his hand was as oversized energy ripper which appeared Mandalorian in design. A few shots from that could tear through the engine block of something like a airspeeder with ease, nevermind its fleshy occupant.

The first cabbie shut up real quick, simply blasting off while angrily muttering curses under his breath.

"So many 'tough' guys," the Duros noted as he retracted his arm. "Until they get a gander of my sweet Julie."

The back door slid open.

"So tell me, how may Romney serve you fine evenin'?"

[member="Alakor"]

 

[Eugen Aker]

(redacted, double post)

 

[Alakor]

[member="Jyoti Nooran"]

Two hours​

​

That was the time he had before his next match. But it appeared that he had not yet conquered the doubt within himself; he could feel himself change: he was getting more and more nervous. His heartbeat accelerated; suddenly, his palms became very sweaty; he suddenly had an upset stomach, etc. All unfitting for an up and coming gladiator, but yet, he was only a human. As he did before, he used his past experiences as motivation to try at least to maintain a calm composure.

"I'll be your opponent".

Alakor then turned around, his mask hiding his facial expressions. He examined the man quickly, an Anzati who was strong, yet appeared quick. Alakor could feel the man wanted the fight. When you rise, many people want you to fall, and he knew the man wanted blood: such was the expectation for every opponent in this dangerous game, but he had come out on top before. He would rise up again.

As time approached, Alakor prepared to get his equipment ready. He reexamined close footage tapes of his previous fights, and his mistakes. Alakor prepared his phrik sword and shield. His armor , lightweight and perfect for a quick and strong fighter.

It was time to get ready, or die trying.

 

[Eugen Aker]

The good news that Romney was as fast as he promised, not trying to string out with the "scenic" route to the stadium. The bad news was that he took just about every conceivable shortcut to get her there, dangerous or otherwise. Quite a few times she felt her heart skip a beat as he suddenly cut in and out of narrow alleyways risking collision. As a skilled pilot, she could have made those turns no problem, but what didn't like is someone else making them while she was held captive.

In retrospect, it may have been a good idea to wait for another cab.

Despite the risky maneuvers, Romney did arrive to the final destination without so much of a scratch, well ahead of the timeline the Echani had set for herself. The Duros' was definitely a bit off in the head, but he certainly proved himself dependable.

"How about we make a deal?" She asked, passing him credit chits through the small back window to the front.

He did a double take as he counted the credits, seeing as how she had paid well over what was owed.

"Okay...I'm listenin'"

"I have a proposition for you. Stick around until I complete my business here, and that 'bonus' gets doubled."

"Make it triple."

Jyoti smiled. She had already paid the driver for a full night's worth of work, and he still acted upon his greedy impulses. People were unbelievable, but also so predicable at once.

"Nope, that's my one and only offer. There certainly isn't a shortage of cabs around here."

She looked out at the door, much nicer models on display all around.

Now it was his turn to chuckle.

"Mmm, you make a good point. Can't hurt a guy for trying. I guess I'll play chauffeur."

"Very good. Now, I won't be too long. Enjoy your night."

She stepped out of the cab and made her way up the steps for the arena. There was a near deafening roar coming from just inside as people cheered. In the Force, she felt the collective bloodlust swirling around the premises like a maelstrom.

She was definitely at the right place, unfortunately. Now it was time to get to punch in and get to work.

There were monsters to hunt.

[member="Alakor"]

 

[Alakor]

A roaring crowd could be heard around the colosseum. With his head up, he analyzed the crowd. He could see that most people were of the upper and middle class. Considering this, he clenched his fist, his face turning read, every fibre of his being boiling in anger. If only he had the power to kill this people. Every fighter but him had been sponsored. Alakor's only saving grace had been the fact that they all fought with melee weapons. This was why he had survived, and if all went as planned, it would be why he won this fight.

A man descended from the podium. Dressed in a black suit, he had a device that allowed his voice to be emitted around the surrounding area. Everyone within the area would be able to hear him. And perhaps more people would enter this bloodthirsty abyss.

"Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome to the great gladiatorial contest. Introducing the undefeated gladiator, 'The Man With No Face'."

He could hear the sounds of so many people screaming in support.

"Remove the mask. Remove the mask!"

How foolish was it for so many gladiators to desire his position. He hated being popular; it gave him a target in his back. Alakor felt like he was alone. He could not trust anyone, and justifiably so. Sith Intelligence was always on the hunt for traitors. And considering how he had left, he was certainly on their wanted list. But it also left a whole in his heart. Every sentient being desired a companion: some chose the Force, others chose companions, and some chose deities. But being a wanted fugitive, he could not have that.

At least, not until he was in the safety of other companions in the same situation as him.

"Introducing his opponent, a new challenger from the Core Worlds, Draco."

A frightening roar was came from Draco. The crowd stopped, analyzing the man. Some had their mouths open, others felt as if time had stopped. Analyzing Draco, he felt that he was fighting a primitive beast. But he knew that Anzats were among the best fighters in the galaxy. For the crowd however, they rowed again. Perhaps it was a useful distraction from the life of crime in Nar Shadaah. Whatever the case, he knew that this man was different. He would certainly be the toughest opponent he had fought.

"How foolish of you to accept my challenge." he stated, a venomous tone coming from his fellow gladiator.

Alakor did not reply. He never replied. Ultimately, the victor would be decided in the duel, and he would be the victor.

Jyoti Nooran

 

[Jyoti Nooran]

One wild cab ride later, and Jyoti had arrived at the stadium intact. It was pretty evident during the course of the ride that Romney had some serious tuning under the hood, or perhaps even aftermarket kits, because the vehicle accelerated like a combat speeder. With the external plating, it wasn't too far from being the real thing, honestly.

Such what was required on Nar Shaddaa

Zipping around the city planet at record speed, they arrived that the stadium in record time. She pat the door after shutting it, then leaned against the driver door.

"This should only take an hour or two. Keep her warm for me."

She dropped a small heap of glittering credits into his outstretched hand. He soon joined the glittering with a grin.

"You got it boss."

She tipped her cap, then stepped off, melting into the throngs of crowds piling into the stadium.

----------------

The Echani had a general idea about her mark appearing at the stadium, but not his exact seating or even the precise time to show. For now, all she could do was keep a lookout while pretending to care about the events below. She had arrived just in time for the main event - a fighter named Draco and the other simply known as "The Man With No Face". When he appeared, she could see his face completely obscured by some manner of faceplate.

Quite on the nose with that one.

For now, she was simply "Jedi with a crappy lead."

Alakor

 

[Alakor]

It didn't take long for the fight to be ugly. Draco kicked the sand in Alakor's direction. His mask had protected him, but some of it had gotten on one of his eye.

What a karking dog

Immediately Draco sought the advantage. With his one eye, he did his best to protect himself against the sweeping strikes with his shield. But with each strike, he felt as if his muscles were being assaulted. Even with the body modifications he underwent, his left arm was tiring out.

When Draco had attempted another sweeping drike, this time a diagonal one with his right hand, Alakor blocked it. But he pushed it towards Draco, kicking the shield with his left leg to take advantage of the momentum generated. Draco fell down, and in that time, Alakor removed his helmet.
For the first time, his face would be seen, although it was covered with a breathing mask. Quickly rubbing his eyes, he saw Draco getting up. And in that time, he attempted to put his mask on. But Draco wouldn't let him.



Kark you.

He immediately got pissed. The underhanded tactic that he had seen reminded him of his time in the Sith. Alakor was someone who had always attempted to fight with honor; not because he wanted to, but because he believed it would protect him from Sith Intelligence. But this time, he felt tempted not to do that. This man was different; it was as if he had finally met his match. Realizing that he had gotten complacent, he relished the challenge.

You want a fight. You got one.

Immediately, once more, their blades clashed. Remembering his past sufferings, he used his aggression to fuel him. It was as if he was descending to the darkness he had tried to escape. But as they fought, he was slowly becoming the weapon the Sith had made him to be.

Peace is a lie, there is only passion.

Alakor attempted a diagonal attack, using his right hand to initiate an attack from Draco's left to his right. Their blades met, and he saw his opponent. It was often said that when eyes met, you could understand anyone's journey. For him, he felt as if he saw a primal, calculated predator. With images of his time in the Sith coming to his mind, the Sith Code began to return to him.

Through passion, I gain strength.

"Your a weak man. You've never beat me"

This, along with various taunts toward his family, and every name on the book sturred Alakor. He felt like a volcano erupting. As their blades met, he felt Draco attempt to put strength to block the attack. For once, he wouldn't win the match based on strength.

But who said someone's strength couldn't be turned against him. Disengaging him, he sidestepped twice, attempting to strike Draco's back. Slowly, he felt as if he was becoming bloodlusted. Either that, or his aggression and passions were taking over him. And for once, he allowed them to take over him.
The Man With No Face stroke at Draco's back, but Draco was also quick as well. He repositioned himself, falling down and striking back immediately , a jab for Alakor's legs, to which he dodged them. His muscular endurance was incredible, but Alakor could feel his breathing increasing.

He was starting to get a bit tired.

Through strength, I gain power

In all his matches, and those that he had seen, he knew that in this stage, anyone would. His eyes wondered in amazement. Was this man on drugs? Or was he truly a great, and tested warrior.

"What drugs are you on?" he taunted, hoping to get a response.

But he never got any. Alakor got his other sword and combined their hilts together, akin to the double-staff Darth Maul had popularized a millennium earlier. It was something he'd never used in battle, and it was rare as well. But sometimes unorthodox measures were what won battles.

He approached his opponent, this time attempting to conserve his energy as he went for his right shoulder, then for his left leg. His main purpose was to test his opponent, disengaging as soon as Draco blocked him. The repeated sequences also served the purpose of tiring him out.

Moving around, Alakor continuously threw sand in his face as well. The seasoned veteran also made sure to position himself in front of the lights in the arena, intending to blind him. For once, it appeared he had the advantage The sweeping motions of Draco had allowed Alakor to reposition himself quickly; as their blades had met, he had disengaged as quickly as he could. A vertical jab toward Draco's leg finally went through.

Patience rewarded men who sought it.

Through power, I gain victory.

But Draco was a fighter as well. As he yelled in anger, he saw Alakor's left side was opened, and went for his shoulder as well. One opponent had lost his balance, the other his dominant sword hand.

Great. Just great.
In the conclusive parts of their battle, Draco then went and speared Alakor. He was on top of him, regaining his sight in one eye. As the sand fell away from his other eye, he attempted to pierce his throat, Alakor using his non-dominant right hand to block the strike via his right sword.

Through victory, my chains are broken.

Knowing full well the cameras were around him, the former Sith Apprentice looked around, for anything. As their blades clashed, and Draco's blade moved closer to his face, he attempted to use his damaged shoulder. It was as if he carried the heaviest of weights.

The force will free me.
Throwing a wide haymaker toward his injured leg, Alakor felt a bone crack. To the unobserved viewer, it was a lucky shot. But to a trained force user, it would be a force-enchanced punch(especially when Draco had armor), one that also put his left hand and shoulder out of commission.

As he heard Draco scream, attempted to jump to get Draco off him. The man quickly fell, and rolled over, attempting to get u with only his right shoulder.

As he attempted to stand up, he could see they both felt dizzy. Alakor's shoulder and arm was broken from that punch, and Draco had a broken leg. They truly were broken, tired men.

Falling down, he feigned weakness, hoping for Draco to strike. Draco approached him, the audience expecting what they believed to be a killing blow. As he did this, Alakor attempted to recollect himself. He knew he wouldn't get another opportunity like this. The Anzat attempted to strike Alakor in a sweeping descending motion. And as the sword descended, Alakor took the opportunity to strike straight at his chest, each of their armor having been bruised and weakened from their exchange. Unknowingly, like the wide haymaker strike, it was also enhanced with the force.

He broke the chest place and striked right at his heart. Falling down, blood would mix in with the stands as the crowd roared at what was perhaps the most entertaining match the colosseum had ever seen.

However, for Alakor, he simply fell, medics sent to tend to his wounds as whatever semblance of consciousness he had left him.

Jyoti Nooran

 

[Jyoti Nooran]

Jyoti honestly didn't expect much from the gladiators, most of these kind of fights devolving into simple brawls you could find in any alleyway. Much to her surprise, both gladiators showed a surprising amount of deftness, especially from the masked man (revealed to be wearing a mask under a mask!). At one point early on he tried to adjust his outer mask, but the Draco figure gave him no quarters, pressing their advantage. Jyoti didn't blame him, in gladiator bouts honor didn't matter - survival did.

For a while, Draco seemed to have an advantage, but only slightly. Over time, his defenses were steadily broken down by an increasingly aggressive masked man. Now that she was paying attention...she noticed something about Mr Mask...a deep contention to the Force. It was rare to run across a Force Sensitive in the wild, an even rarer to see them in such a venue. She looked upon him with new eyes, seeing how the man interacted with the Force. It was quite crude in the way he drew upon it, seemingly by emotion alone in a brute force tactic.

Anger. Pain. Frustration. Violence.

The Dark Side.

Despite the advantage he enjoyed, the Force alone couldn't overcome the skill of Draco alone, and so the champion kept landing hits. In fact, it looked like Draco may win after all. However, right at the very end, the Masked man deployed his trump card with a feint that landed him the winning blow.

The crowd erupted in thunderous screams and applause that rocked the building. Their collective bloodlust emanated with their own kind of darkness. Meanwhile, a bloodied and broken winner was carted off.

By now Gourda had revealed himself as the fight had unfolded. He was cheering along with the rest, gleefully pointing a fat finger down at the Masked Man being carried away. The Hutt wanted the Masked Man as his new champion.

Jyoti rose from her seat, slipping away from the roaring crowds. She had a vector toward the Hutt, and it began with that Masked Man below.

Alakor

 

[Alakor]

Alakor's eyes only saw what appeared to be medical instruments as he began to wake up, exhausted from his injuries. The former Sith looked around, his mind dazed from the previous encounter. He couldn't see properly, various things in his room appearing blurry; moroever, Alakor could feel multiple parts of his body were numb. His internal state wasn't the best either, feeling like vomiting, while struggling with a headache.

As he fully regained his sight, he saw a variety of medical droids injecting various sedatives to calm him down. His heart beat had increased, but they never attempted to put him to sleep. Not yet, at least until it was determined he was fully recovered. Attempting to analyze the room, he saw two guards, each two Wookies that guarded him. There had been attempts in the past by various gladiators to escape, and the owners of the colosseum had attempted to upgrade their security systems as such. For him, he'd never attempted to escape: the opportunity had never presented itself.

Attempting to get up, he was nearly stopped by a medical droid.

"Sir, you are not fully recovered. It is paramount you remain here until you are fully recovered."

He remembered the fact that he had another fight in the next two days. Especially after the display, he couldn't risk waiting here any longer. He thouht about the fact that he nearly had died. A tear coming from his eye, he immediately brushed it off, hoping that no one had seen him. Alakor hated where he was: he considered the fact that he could return to the Sith. Sure, there was torture. But it was better than this: removing all the glory, the gladiator was nothing more than a hired stooge. A man who was used for someone else's own purposes. He had never truy been free. Alakor had exchanged the Sith for the Hutt.

"Sir, you have representatives from Gourda who wish to speak with you in the next few minutes."

"I'm not in the state to speak."

"You don't have a choice." the Wookie yelled at him.

"Bring them in." he said.

This day can't get any worse.

Jyoti Nooran

 

[Jyoti Nooran]

With all the crowds present, it was easy enough to get down to the service levels below, the Shadow weaving in and out of the throngs of bodies to her destination. She was hardly noticed, and in the times she was, observers would feel a strong bout of nausea, then forget they had ever seen the woman in the dark shawl.

This continued all the way to the service levels, where she reached the medical bay. It was a peculiar mix of med techs in mint green jumpsuits and their bloodied gladiator accomplices. The prowled the halls, looking for a med tech that matched her dimensions. She found one in a green female Twi'lek, face glued to a datapad.

The Echani approached, smiling.

"Excuse me ma'am, I'm looking for someone..."

------------------------------​

One closet trip later, and Jyoti was back on the floor in her newly acquired jumpsuit. The jumpsuit had come with a hood, so she had lifted that up over her hair in place of her shawl. As it turned out, the datapad the med tech had been carrying provided patient readouts connected to a local intranet. Messing around in the recent logs, she was able to find her man, showing up as "???/Patient 1251" - he was an enigma even to his own people.

Near the door of his room, she found a large concentration of guards, including a set of Wookiees. They chattered loudly, running up and down the hall establishing a perimeter. She couldn't imagine all this security being for one gladiator, so figured it was for someone else.

Gourda.

Her instincts had been right on the money, and it appeared she had just beaten the slug to the mystery gladiator. She approached the open room, catching a couple suspicious looks, but no one stopped her as she entered. She looked like another med tech, and more importantly, looked like she was supposed to be there. When it came to infiltration, you could get a long way just pretending to belong.

She entered in time to see the gladiator arguing with a Wookiee guard. Gourda sought an audience with the man, but as he was now beaten to a bloody pulp, he wasn't exactly in the mood. However, because he was currently laid out beaten to a bloody pulp, he really was in no position to refuse.

She allowed them to keep speaking while she approached one of the medical droids present.

"Diagnosis?" She requested.

"The patient is weak but stable." the droid reported "He possesses multiple fractures, primarily stemming from the right arm and shoulder. First aid was administered, resetting the bones with a temporary epoxy cast. He has also suffered multiple lacerations and internal bruising. Clotting agents were applied to stem the bleeding, and I was about to stitch the lac---"

"I'll do it," Jyoti interjected. "Just keep an eye on his vitals."

She approached the man's bed, picking out the required tools from a tray at his side - a staple gun. She was no medical expert, but Echani had served in combat long enough to be familiar with first aid and basic terminology. Except, in the field she was used to closing wounds with lightsaber burns.

Jyoti waved the staple gun in his face. "I imagine you're already drugged up pretty well, so this should only sting a little. The barbs of the staples are coated in their own anesthetic as well. If you'll just lay back, then I'll get started."

Alakor

 

[Alakor]

"What is it you want?" he uttered. The tone of his voice showed he was completely out of it. Like a man out of his breath, he felt as if ever moment he breathed and spoke would be his last. This coupled with his own emotional distress made him want to cut his losses and kill himself. He was growing tired of living a life like this: every time he thought he was free, he always found a more crueler master. It had been his entire cycle in life. What was the point of surviving it?

"I want you to be my champion. Continue killing and surviving, and you will earn your place by my side."

His eyes focused on the ugly hutt. Alakor was somewhat surprised by the offer. He had done unspeakable things before his time in the Sith to survive in the underworld. And now, it appeared whatever god put him to return to his roots. Knowing full well that Gourda wanted him, he figured that other hutts and like-minded individuals would also be gunning for him as well.

"I'll give you millions of credits, and better equipment. You won't have to live in that place you call a home."

Ahh. The promises of a madman.

Then again, if he wanted to improve his chances of surviving, Gourda was his best option. But Alakor was a man who knew to keep all the cards close to his chest; he was the only gladiator who was not a sponsored champion. It was part of his appeal, and he expected word to travel around that Gourda had seeked a personal audience with him.. Well, that was a better way of saying he was forced to see him.

"I'll give you a response within a few hours to three days." he said.

Surprisingly, it was a satisfactory response to the Hutt. But he wanted the slug gone as quickly as possible. He didn't need distractions, although even he had to admit Jyoti Nooran was a welcoming one.

He glanced at her and well... even as a drugged man, he knew a beauty when he saw one. Alakor wondered how someone like her had gotten a job in the shittiest place in Nar Shadaah. That and he had never seen her in the med bay before. When she spoke to him, he simply nodded. He couldn't understand the technical language she had used.

"Do whatever you want doc. I just want to get out of this mess." he said.

"Maybe give me something that will make me good to sleep. I could use a good nap from the beating I got."

 

[Jyoti Nooran]

There he was, the slug, smelling Gourda before he entered the room. It was actually amazing seeing him squeeze his mass through the frame - a normal door wouldn't have cut it.

Jyoti focused intently with the staple gun with her head down as Gourda addressed the man. Meanwhile, tiny alchemized mites detached from her jumpsuit, fluttering through the air toward Gourda an his entourage. They coated each person like a specks of dust, practically invisible to the naked eye. Only someone with the Force would be able to perceive them easily. Like the young man now under her care.

Would he say anything or hold his tongue?

Depending on the injured gladiator reacted if he noticed, the staple gun bringing him relief could just as easily bring the pain.

"I have just the thing...but I'll let you finish your business with your associates first."

Alakor

 

[Alakor]

Alakor watched as the insects went to Gourda and his crew. He didn't know what had happened. What he did know was that she wasn't someone that was supposed to be here. And he wanted to know why.

Attempting to get up, he felt as if he was lifting the heaviest of weights. He couldn't move, at least for now.

"What is it you want?" he said silently, hoping the droid couldn't hear him.

Looking forward, he could see Gourda's men leaving. Either that, or his eyes were going bad.

"You aren't from here."


Jyoti Nooran

 

[Jyoti Nooran]

So he had noticed, but was smart enough not to speak of it. That saved the Shadow time writing a lengthy after action report.

"I should say the about you," she replied, deflecting back to him. "There's certainly something different about you."

She finished up the staples. "Hey, let me observe my handiwork for at least a few minutes before you split your wounds again moving around. Take a breather."

For a few moments, Jyoti considered just leaving. The man asked what she had wanted - but technically she already had everything. Gourda was tagged and she'd be able to catch up with him later for some quality sleuthing. The man was special, but his potential remained untapped - unless his trajectory changed, the gladiator was on a one way trip to a dirt nap. They would never see each other again if she just exited right there.

Still...she hated the idea of wasting such potential. Rarely did the universe drop such opportunities before her. He was tainted, but she could work with it.

"You know that Gourda is full of it, right? You'll be lucky if you ever see a fraction of those winnings. Would you like to know how things will turn out? He may hype you up for a few fights as the man who took on Draco. Then cash in on the hype by forcing you to throw a fight."

Her words were pure speculation, of course, but she considered them an educated guess knowing how Gourda operated.

"You keen on 'working' as his glorified punching bag?"

Alakor

 

[Alakor]

Jyoti Nooran

Alakor hated to admit it, but she was right. He shouldn't have attempted to move. What he needed was to recover and regain his strength. He needed as much of it as possible, especially when he would have to fight in a few days.

Hearing her statements about Gourda, he felt like rolling his eyes. He was starting to hate conversations. Could he not just rest? But his interest in her removed any thought he had in his mind of not speaking to her. Why was a medical aid interested in his own well-being? She definitely wasn't from here; each word she had said just confirmed his thesis.

"And that's why I decided to wait for other offers. Even if I get a fraction, it's better than what I earn. And I won't have to eat the food here."

Turning his head, he looked at her.

"Why does it matter to you what I pick? And who are you anyways?"

 

[Jyoti Nooran]

Jyoti chuckled at his mention of waiting for more offers.

"Kid...that's the only "offer" you're going to get. That slug is the biggest player around these parts, and few will cross him for you. Even if you did get another deal, do you think Gourda would allow you to continue breathing after you disrespected him with rejection?"

It didn't matter if the man agreed or not, Gourda had already decided his fate. The man was now literally a victim of his own success.

"Why do I care? I'm your doctor, after all. I took an oath to see you well." she winked. "So it's pretty clear that we're both alike in a certain way we only know...I have an offer for you to consider. One that sees you actually free from this cesspool."

Her smile had faded as she grew serious. Meanwhile, one by one, the droids around them deactivated, giving them true privacy.

"Would you like to know more?"

Alakor

 

[Alakor]

"I didn't reject him." he muttered. But she was probably right. Someone like him probably expected and wanted to get everything they want. Maybe he wanted to believe in a good offer for once.

Hearing her other elucidations, he was at the point where he didn't really care if a random person like Jyoti Nooran appeared to him and offered him something else.

"Doctor, huh. A word of advice: don't trust people just because they said they swore an oath." Last time he had trusted a medical professional, he had found poison in his system, perhaps from another competitor trying to sabotage him.

"Everyone wants to give me an offer today." A smile grew as he slightly chucked.

"What do you got?"