Private Trouble on Kabal

[Itzhal Volkihar]

Crasska Nuselok was a wanted man. He'd been so for years, a primary enforcer for the local gang known as the Ash Blades, the thirty-eight-year-old Trandoshan had made something of a name for himself: violent, ruthless, and eager for bloodshed. The streets of Jerratha were no stranger to his brutal outbursts. With much blood spilt in favour of his employers, he'd carved his way into becoming untouchable, much to the misfortune of his usual targets, fellow gang members and unfortunate locals. None of them were important enough to matter, not when the local police looked away, and any form of protection came from the men he served.

At least, that was how it had been till now.

One murder was all it took. In most regards, Kaelin Deras was unremarkable, an off-world merchant with little wealth of his own and frequently lousy luck at the local gambling tables; when the time came to collect his debts, everything should have gone according to plan. Such was the cruelty of life, however, that when the time came, Kaelin Deras grew a spine and resisted without a care in the world for how many credits he owed. Greedy or courageous, the result was the same—public and blatant murder for the disrespect delivered to the Ash Blades. It was a mistake that would cost them everything.

Fifteen thousand credits dead. Twenty-five thousand credits, alive and screaming for the judgement of a vengeful family.

---

The planet of Kabal was picturesque, with Idyllic beaches of warm golden sand traced by the soft waves of a clear blue ocean. A paradise world filled with beauty and wonder as far as the eye could see, nature in all its splendour.

Jerratha was a black mark upon such a world, a hideous wound that spewed disease and malaise with every huffing rupture of its industrial machine. Black clouds of ash and fog drifted across the landscape, closer and closer to the grey beaches and the defiled seafront, a testament to civilisation's cruelty. It was not just nature that suffered under such a regime.

Blocky fabrications of metal and stone housed thousands packed in like crushed sardines. Most of them were resigned to a life without the bright light of a natural sun, tarnished as it was by dark clouds that rarely lifted. Their inhabitants scuttled around in a way more akin to rats than the living thinking beings they were, without even a thought for how aberrant their life under the synthetic lights of barely functioning fixtures really was.

Here, a figure like Itzhal Volkihar stood out, unintentional as it was. His steps were too confident, his stride unhindered, his head raised high. His armour, dark and imposing in the dim light that frequently flickered due to an exposed lighting strip, cracked and torn with wires that sparked when the current slipped past a damaged resistor in the next chain.

None stopped him as he walked past, pistols on his hips.

Still, dozens of eyes followed his path as he came to a stop in front of a grey door. He ignored them, harmless as they were. Behind his visor, eyes traced the contours of the door, unmarked with the debris and refuse so common elsewhere. There was a gap to the door, remnants of a larger, yet noticeably less hardy material, much like the others around them. When he knocked, the sound reverberated with an echo that carried along the corridor, yet garnered no response beyond its own.

The Mandalorian tilted his head, first to the right and then to the left, an unnecessary gesture with the sensor equipment in his helmet but an ingrained one. Then, with a stretch of his arm, he placed the nozzle of his wrist-mounted flame projector against the door lock; his other hand adjusted the controls before the corridor flared to life with another source of light and heat. The sudden warmth was barely noticeable through the protection of his black bodysuit, though the sound of metal melting screeched through the corridor, dampened as it was by the ear protection in his helmet.

A few seconds later, the lock collapsed inwards, and a push of the door solved the rest. He stepped over the puddle of dripped slag and into the living room on the other side; a closed window covered in ash from outside faced him. One hand dropped back to his pistol, wary as he moved deeper inside, past the open bathroom door and the floor dirtied with emptied syringes and stimulants. A few he recognised, though the brand was different, most didn't even have an identifier with only the dregs of a hazy crumpled tube to judge.

In the living room, there was a single low-hanging table in line with a ratty old couch. The wood was a faded brown, yet the faint claw marks and knife gouges that had just barely scratched the surface spoke of something much more valuable than any ordinary furniture. It might have even been worth a pretty credit if not for the blood stains that dirtied the table with crimson flecks that weren't the right colour for a Trandoshan.

As close as he was to the table, he could see through the door to the left into a dark room with a shrine the colour of bone decorated with notches and marks that were partially covered by a dark brown pelt. Through the remaining door to the right, only visible from a slight creak in the entrance, a grey slab of stone pressed against a wall, where a nearby radiator unit slumbered beside the bed, and empty racks were stacked aside trophies of weapons and ammunition.

Quietly, he crouched down to the table, his eyes locked upon a holocomm that had fallen beside the table leg.

Then, with a flick of his wrist, his blaster pointed at the doorway and the unexpected sound.

Valery Noble

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Jedi Jumpsuit (Robes over it)
Weapons: Lightsabers

Valery moved quietly through the grimy streets of Jerratha, her hood pulled low over her head to obscure her features. This wasn't a place where a Jedi Grandmaster could walk openly, not without drawing too much attention to herself. The stench of oil, rot, and decay clung to the air, and every corner seemed to breathe with a life of its own — a dangerous, desperate life. Her amber eyes scanned the shadows as she moved, her presence muted in the Force to avoid unwanted attention.

She had come to Kabal after hearing whispers about the Ash Blades, a gang notorious for its brutality and control over the local populace. Their latest act of public violence had crossed the line — an innocent merchant, slaughtered in broad daylight for defiance. It was the kind of event that sent a chill through the Force, and Valery had answered its call. These people needed justice, and she wouldn't allow their suffering to go unanswered.

Her search for the gang's enforcers had led her to this industrial labyrinth. Its streets narrowed, and she finally approached a decrepit building with a door partially ajar. The melted lock and the faint scorch marks on the frame made her pause. Someone had been here recently, someone with a less subtle approach.

Valery pushed the door open, her hand brushing against the hilt of her lightsaber as she stepped inside. The air here was thick and stagnant, carrying the metallic tang of old blood. Her gaze swept over the mess of syringes, stimulants, and broken furniture in the hallway, all signs of the decay and cruelty that had become this place's norm.

She moved carefully, her boots making barely a sound against the filthy floor. The Force whispered faint warnings in the back of her mind, guiding her steps deeper into the building. She passed an open doorway that led to a small shrine, its grotesque decorations making her brow furrow. The energy here was oppressive, the remnants of violence and pain still clinging to the walls like shadows.

Her path eventually brought her to the room where she felt the faintest ripple in the Force — a presence, cautious and sharp. Her amber eyes narrowed as she reached the doorway and saw him: a Mandalorian crouched by a table, his blaster drawn and aimed at an unseen threat.

Valery didn't ignite her lightsaber but let her voice cut through the tense air, calm but firm. "I hope you're not with the Ash Blades," she said, her tone carrying the quiet authority of someone who didn't bluff.

Her gaze flicked briefly to the holocomm near the table leg before returning to the Mandalorian. She remained ready to act, every muscle coiled for a potential fight. Something told her this man wasn't here by coincidence, but she wasn't about to take any chances — not in a place like this.

Itzhal Volkihar ​

 

[Itzhal Volkihar]

The pistol in Itzhal's grip was old and worn with little of value to brag about; unfortunate as such a claim was, he'd bought it only because the other option was to wield an ancient blaster that had leaked its previous supply of tibanna gas over a thousand years. It was hardly a worthy replacement, but the nature of his job required a weapon, so the Mandalorian had made his best effort to acquire what he could. Naturally, stasis and what seemed like yearly disasters had unfortunate effects on his credit account. This led him back to the necessity of such a job and how he found himself pointing a hand blaster at the Grandmaster of a Jedi Order.

Not that he recognised her as Valery Noble stepped into the room; her voice carried across the space between them in a way that made him stop and stare. It had been a long time, yet what seemed like only months ago, since he'd seen robes like hers. They fitted across her shoulders like a halo of duty and a promise of safety for those who fell under her vigil.

For a man like Itzhal, they promised nothing but pain and the emotionless verdict of a watchdog that cared nothing for the consequences suffered by any but their precious Republic. For a second, he considered pulling the trigger. He knew it would do nothing, a gesture of defiance and anger carried out by an insufficient tool only to end in failure.

Behind his visor, blue eyes settled upon their amber mirror.

"No," He responded once he was certain the anger that boiled in his veins was under control, leashed for the moment with the ice-cold certainty that she wasn't to blame for his loss. No one was anymore. Not even a system that had crumbled long before he got a chance for retribution. The only one left to carry the burden was himself. A second later, he realised there was more to say as he lowered his weapon, "I'm not."

Then, with care for the threat between himself and the doorway, Itzhal stood slowly, aware that any sudden movement was under watch as they continued to size each other up. The distance between them was close enough to cross in a blink as the Mandalorian stepped towards the table and the abandoned commlink, his right arm angled towards the other figure. Closer to the flame-projector stored within his gauntlet, which might buy him valuable space and a second to kick the table towards them as he made a retreat towards the window, where a quick deployment of whipcord would do the job, painful as the landing would be.

He hoped it wasn't necessary. Jetii were a pain to fight even when prepared, and Itzhal wasn't quite so arrogant to consider himself anywhere close to ready.

He doubted they were here for him, however, not when he'd just begun, which meant there was another purpose. One he might be able to distract them with, assuming she wasn't just here to fight with the nearest Mandalorian. He wouldn't be surprised if a couple of them were still holding a general grudge. He knew he was. "You got a reason for coming here, Jetii?"
Valery Noble

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Jedi Jumpsuit (Robes over it)
Weapons: Lightsabers

Valery's amber eyes remained locked on the Mandalorian, her posture relaxed but undeniably poised. As he spoke, her gaze flicked briefly to his lowered blaster, then back to his visor. His answer was straightforward, and the measured way he stood, weapon no longer aimed at her, suggested he wasn't looking for a fight.

Not yet, at least.

In response to his question, Valery reached up and unclasped her robe, letting the fabric slide from her shoulders and fall into her waiting hand. Without breaking eye contact, she folded it neatly and set it aside on a nearby surface. Beneath the robes, her jumpsuit clung to her athletic frame — practical, simple, and designed for moments just like this.

"I came here because the Ash Blades crossed a line. They've been terrorizing people, and their latest victim — an innocent merchant — was killed for resisting them. That kind of violence doesn't go unanswered."

She nodded toward the commlink near the table, her brow lifting slightly. "I'm guessing you're here for the same reason. Or maybe you're just looking for credits, hunting down whoever's putting up the most lucrative bounty." Her tone wasn't accusatory but probing, as if she were trying to piece together his motives. She looked him up and down then, taking note of the armor that covered his frame.

He was no Crusader, so likely a bounty hunter.

Valery took a measured step forward, her hands at her sides to show she wasn't making any sudden moves. "I'm not here to fight you, Mandalorian. But if you're not with the Ash Blades, maybe you're someone I can work with. What do you say? We have the same goal here."

Her amber gaze burned with quiet intensity, her posture unwavering but free of hostility. She was prepared for whatever came next, whether it was an alliance or a fight.

Itzhal Volkihar ​

 

[Itzhal Volkihar]

Behind the one-way screen of his T-shaped visor, Itzhal watched intently as the Keshian Jedi responded to his question, although not in a way he expected, as her hand reached up towards her collarbone, leaving one hand further away from her hip and the weapon he expected to be hidden underneath the robes. It would be a dirty trick, although not an unprecedented one, as he observed her movements carefully, aware an errant gesture could easily mean more than it appeared. The click of a metal clasp was the first warning of what was to come, though he quickly realised what was to follow as the stiff cloak trailed down her shoulders, slower than he was used to and with less of the menace traditionally involved as the warrior monks prepared for combat.

He was still tempted to shoot her.

The hints of her body, teasingly concealed beneath the layers of fabric, would have been enticing if he wasn't so busy running his eyes over every exposed surface for a sign of threat. Each curve and contour that accented her frame was another distraction that cost him valuable milliseconds as his sensors failed to scan properly; confused by some form of technology far beyond the equipment of his time, reliant only upon his eyes, his deep gaze trailed across the belt and the lightsabers that lingered on either side. On a second look, as his gaze travelled up her body, Itzhal privately admired the subtle armour plates that reinforced her torso and vital organs before they settled upon her amber eyes.

So, her reason for coming was much the same as his. A target shared between them and a reason to coincide as long as they both agreed upon the matter. His eyes followed her gaze as she nodded towards the commlink, another clue left behind and fragile enough that it would almost certainly be destroyed in any confrontation between the two. Explosives had a habit of doing that. It was better to keep things civil for now.

As she finished suggesting a reason for his existence here, Itzhal responded with a tilt of his helm, slightly exaggerated for the sake of the unknown woman, as he nodded in acknowledgement. The answer was clear enough, and in truth, he had no reason to negotiate with an imbecile; if even such a simple gesture couldn't be understood, they were just wasting time talking.

She stepped forward, slow and careful, as though he were a wary animal, whispered a derisive voice before he slammed down on the intrusive and cruel thought. He was being unfair, after all; he recognised the attempts to de-escalate from his former training.

Warm hands upon his back, a father's smile proud and joyful.

His helmet muffled the sound that escaped his throat, a snort or a cry. He wasn't quite sure. It was easier to speak than deal with the thoughts that lingered.

"Agreed, my fight isn't with you," He swallowed the threats that should have followed, his helmet lowered as he crouched down and picked up the commlink that both of them had stared at more than once before. "I'm not a charity, though; if we're taking him in, then I want payment. Half minimum. You carry your weight for the rest, agreed?"

With a glance at the conversation on the commlink, he offered his hand and the device it held out in a gesture as old as time.

Valery Noble

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Jedi Jumpsuit (Robes over it)
Weapons: Lightsabers

Valery's sharp amber eyes caught the way the Mandalorian's gaze lingered as she shed her outer robes, his visor tilting ever so slightly to follow the movement. It was subtle, and his armor betrayed little, but the way his body language shifted — the faint hesitation in his response — revealed more than he likely intended.

Her lips curved into a faint smirk, a fleeting but deliberate response to his attention. She wasn't oblivious to the effect she could have on people, though she rarely used it to her advantage. Still, in moments like these, a little confidence and control of the room could go a long way.

As he crouched to retrieve the commlink, her expression softened into something more serious, though the sharp edge of amusement never quite left her eyes. She took a measured step closer, her hands still loose and unthreatening at her sides, and studied him as he offered her the device.

"I don't care about the credits, so feel free to take all," Valery replied, her tone carrying a mix of warmth and quiet strength. She reached out, her hand brushing just briefly against his gauntlet as she took the commlink.

"I'll carry my weight," she said, locking eyes with him through the T-shaped visor. Her amber gaze burned with quiet intensity, as if daring him to doubt her.

Valery glanced down at the commlink, her thumb brushing over the device as she examined it. A few messages and coordinates were displayed, likely the last desperate communications of a gang trying to protect its most valuable asset. Her brow furrowed slightly as she pieced together the information.

"Their leader is still in the sector," she murmured, glancing back up at the Mandalorian. "If we're quick, we can intercept him before he relocates." She clipped the commlink to her belt, her expression sharpening with purpose.

Itzhal Volkihar ​

 

[Itzhal Volkihar]

Itzhal’s gaze remained undeterred, focused upon the woman that still held the potential of friend or foe. He didn’t care for the way her expression twisted, a faint smirk upon gentle lips that mirrored the laughter in her eyes, teasing but not malicious. It had been a long time since he’d been on the receiving end of such a look, back before everything went wrong.

She was dangerous and she knew it. The lightsaber at her hip only had so much to do with it, when she knew how to use every weapon in her arsenal.

He recognised the warmth in her voice, another problem dismissed with the certainty she already held everything they needed. She smiled so easily. The credits given as if they were nothing. He wondered then if the pillars of support that surrounded her could so easily supply everything she needed, the weight of many uplifting them all. It would match what he knew of the past, distorted as it was in this malformed future.

Behind the visor, his eyes lingered wistfully upon the exchange made, a sliver of envy and wonder in such confidence that would accept his hand so readily. As if a flick of his wrist wouldn’t deploy the shard of metal concealed in his gauntlet, parting flesh with a flourish that would clean the blade of spurting blood and leave only a soft hum as it quivered with danger and violence.

Did she have any clue how lucky she was, to stand confident in the knowledge that credits were no matter? Did she have any clue what it was like to lose them all?

He said nothing.

His real questions were saved only for the dead, long departed.

"I'll keep you to that promise," Itzhal responded, a lilt of warmth hidden underneath the challenge. If she felt the need to declare her value for all to hear, it wasn't his issue. She'd either pull her weight or fall behind. He had a feeling she'd be the former.

Either way, he’d see soon enough.

In the meantime they had a target to hunt, wherever he may be. That was the question after all, where had Crasska went?

He felt no need to respond to her observation; the evidence was sufficient enough. Though there was a rather substantial difference between an enforcer and the leader of such an organisation, he'd be sure to bring it up once he'd finished the job.

"No time to waste then," he declared, with a wave towards the rest of the room and the trail still to be found. The half-opened door of the shrine room, exposed to dim light and the copper smell of dried blood, left to rot in the harsh heat, covered in a thin layer of ash and dusted with the rough imprints of booted feet. The tread was too common to be an intruder, their steps faintly worn in over time and age. "He doesn't work at any of the factories. Too much time, it would take away from his role. Yet, the ash is ingrained, possibly a sign of poor upkeep, but look at the shrine; it's meticulous beyond the floor, and every piece that could be part of the ritual is clean.”

Quietly, Itzhal crouched down, his hand spread across the ashes as he watched them stick to the floor, untouched by even the firm pressure of his thumb pressed harshly against imported wood flooring.

“Perhaps he doesn't care beyond the ritual site, but Trandoshan scales require exceptional care in such environments, or they begin to shed, and infections form under the sublayer. Which means the ash is unavoidable, close enough to wherever he goes that it's become inevitable, somewhere within the factory districts."

He turned his head towards her, "You got a trick to make this quicker, Jetii?"

Valery Noble

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Jedi Jumpsuit (Robes over it)
Weapons: Lightsabers

Valery observed Itzhal quietly as he worked, her amber eyes sharp and thoughtful. He moved with precision and a clear familiarity with his surroundings, analyzing the scene in a way that spoke to both his experience and his pragmatism. His deductions about the ash and its implications were sharp, and she found herself impressed despite herself.

As he turned to her, the faint challenge in his words drew a subtle smirk to her lips. "You're thorough," she remarked, her voice calm but carrying a note of respect. "It's a good start, but you're right — we don't have time to sift through every clue piece by piece."

Her gaze swept over the shrine, her expression shifting to something more introspective. The Force whispered faintly here, carrying the echoes of ritual and devotion. It was tangled with the darker threads of obsession and violence that marked the life of their quarry.

Valery closed her eyes briefly, centering herself as she reached out through the Force. Her presence extended, touching the residual energy left behind in the shrine, following its trace like a thread unspooling from a frayed tapestry. When she opened her eyes again, there was a spark of clarity in them.

"He frequents the factory district, yes," she said, her tone carrying the certainty of someone who wasn't guessing. "But not just anywhere. There's a place — a smelting plant, maybe. I can feel the heat and the sound of metalwork. It's where he spends most of his time when he's not here."

She stepped closer to Itzhal, her posture poised but relaxed. "If we move fast, we can catch him before he realizes we're closing in. Or before he has a chance to bolt." Her smirk returned, this time with a hint of playful challenge. "Unless you'd rather analyze another footprint?"

Itzhal Volkihar ​

 

[Itzhal Volkihar]

Itzhal stepped away from the shrine, his steps soft and solemn as they moved further away from the bloody idol and closer to the entrance, where the doorway served as a makeshift source of cover and concealment. His bodysuit blunted the cold, hard press of metal as he leaned against it, one hand close to his blaster. He angled himself to keep the front door in sight while the sensors in his helmet displayed Valery's work.

In truth, he hadn't expected much of a response from his last challenge. The ways of Jetii'dral were a mystery to him even after all this time and his fair share of encounters with Jetii. He was used to them throwing people like dolls and tearing weapons from grips, not something like this, pulling answers from the ether. Valery's eyes closed in concentration, if only for a moment, as she focused on something that Itzhal couldn't perceive, not through his eyes nor his ears, not even through the goosebumps that raised along his arms as he was left entirely in the dark. Her response didn't take long for all he waited, wary in the face of something unfathomable.

He didn't question how she knew, secure in her answer regardless of what should have been impossible. A working factory narrowed it down, although not by much; the sound of metalwork and billowing heat were further clues, narrowing their options down.

Behind the visor, blue eyes gazed upon the Keshian's face, searching for something different in her, a subtle change or blatant distortion of the woman he'd met, yet she remained the same. The unknowing had always been part of her; he'd just been able to ignore it till now.

His helm tilted away, the intention obscured by an agreeing nod as they planned to move out. The Factory district wasn't far by speeder; if they drove quickly, it would take less than twenty minutes.

"Footprints are useful," Itzhal said as they left the shrine room behind, uncertain of how much weight he carried when his ally could pluck a trail from nothing. Perhaps there were unseen limits, costs and consequences, yet Itzhal only knew what he'd seen. Determined but wary of wasting valuable minutes, his eyes gazed upon the room one last time.

On the way out, his gaze settled upon a jacket hung up on a coat hook near the doorway. He grabbed it on the way out, one hand holding it upright as the other rifled through pockets, his fingers quick and thorough as they tore through wrappers and discarded credit chits stored in the front two pockets. The name of a diner, printed upon a half-torn bagel wrapper, was stockpiled away in the hint of half-useful clues as the pockets were emptied piece by piece. Then he folded the material over the stretch of his forearm, held in place by the grip of his hand; as he patted it down one more time, a bulge knocked against his fingers halfway down.

He flicked his hand, and the vibroknuckler concealed in his gauntlet shot out with a skitter snap that tore into the fibres and opened a path to the hidden pocket. Another movement, almost a soft twist, caused the blade to return with only a gentle hiss.

As he discarded the jacket, a small metallic object tumbled from its depths, landing softly into his outstretched palm. The surprising warmth of the metal pressed against his hand, the skin beneath protected by the thin layer of his bodysuit. As he examined the chip, his helmet's aged sensors began to flicker, registering a faint, pulsating signal emanating from the tiny device—information scrawled across his visor, a thick blur of identities and authorisations as the device tried to connect to a larger server and found only his helmet.

"I've got another lead, looks like they left another footprint behind," he offered as they left the apartment behind; the chip slipped into one of the pouches on his belt. "Can you drive while I figure this out?"

The speeder he'd hired wasn't far from here, although it wasn't exactly up to his usual standards. There weren't enough weapons or storage space, though it'd been cheap, and he hadn't been willing to justify much more. Not when he didn't intend to launch it into a warzone.

The bright canary yellow paint job on the former taxi turned rental wasn't exactly to his taste either, though he'd done his best to ignore it.

Valery Noble

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Jedi Jumpsuit (Robes over it)
Weapons: Lightsabers

Valery's amber eyes followed Itzhal as he worked, her arms loosely crossed over her chest. His thoroughness impressed her once again, even if his methods carried a pragmatism that starkly contrasted her own. As he rifled through the jacket and eventually extracted the hidden chip, her gaze lingered on the device, her expression sharpening with interest.

"A footprint indeed," she murmured, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. The fact that it was sending out a faint signal was both a risk and an opportunity. Whatever data it carried could either lead them straight to their quarry or set off alarms, and Valery wasn't keen on leaving anything to chance.

When he asked her to drive, she tilted her head, one brow quirking upward. "Sure," she replied, her tone carrying a trace of amusement. "But you owe me for making me drive a taxi." Her gaze flicked to the canary yellow speeder waiting for them, and she let out a quiet chuckle as they approached. "This thing is about as subtle as a flare in the middle of the night."

Sliding into the driver's seat, Valery adjusted the controls and gave the speeder a quick once-over. It wasn't the most comfortable ride she'd ever been in, but it would do. As Itzhal climbed in beside her, she glanced his way. "Get to work on that chip. Let me know what you find — we'll be at the factory district in no time."

The engine purred to life under her hands, and with a flick of her wrist, she guided the speeder out onto the road. Her movements were smooth and precise, maneuvering the vehicle effortlessly despite its less-than-ideal handling. The Force subtly enhanced her reflexes, making the ride swift and controlled as they wove through the narrow streets.

"So," Valery said after a moment, her tone casual despite the weight of their mission. "What do you think we're walking into? This guy clearly doesn't work alone. And something tells me this is more than just a gang hideout." She glanced at him briefly before refocusing on the road ahead.

The faint hum of the speeder filled the silence as she drove, the factory district looming closer with every passing moment. Whatever awaited them there, Valery was ready — even if their bright yellow ride made stealth a challenge.

Itzhal Volkihar ​

 

[Itzhal Volkihar]

Itzhal's steel blue eyes turned towards Valery and away from the sunshine yellow abomination that continued to mock him. If he'd had any other option, the glaring eyesore would still be stored in a rental facility rather than haunting the city streets. At least the Jetii was amused by the situation rather than horrified; he would have believed it was some of that infamous stoicism if not for the humour in her eyes. Not that such a thought could last long as her chuckle echoed through the streets, lightly amused as she was.

"I didn't exactly rent it for its looks," He said, forced to face the abomination as he walked around the side and hopped over the door, giving it a quick knock near the handle to make sure it wasn't going to eject mid-flight. "But sure, I'll owe you."

The seat groaned under his weight as he pulled on his seatbelt, unsure of what type of driver he was facing in the woman beside him. He had a pretty good hunch that if the situation required it, they wouldn't be running at the legal limit, at least not by choice; unfortunately, there were a number of slipways that the speeder couldn't keep up in.

"Just keep us somewhat steady," He said, already distracted with the information scrolling over his HuD and the datapad he pulled from a compartment on his belt. It had been one of the cheaper things he'd bought, all things considered, with a surprising amount of compatibility even to general systems like this as he tried searching for information on what data the device was attempting to transmit. "Watch for the..." He trailed off as Valery shifted the weight of the speeder, The Force guiding her through a sudden oversteer that Itzhal had forced himself to predict over the journey towards Crasska's home.

The question that followed shouldn't have been so surprising, although Itzhal stopped all the same, his hands stalling as he tilted his head to look towards her in the peripheral of his vision. He tilted his helmet back, careful not to focus too much attention on her as he answered, "Until now, I figured it would be the usual show. A few turrets and personal defences for any gang wars turned nasty, then a whole lot of bodies, mostly untrained but with a few outliers worth the effort and minor bounties to cash in..."

He stalled, unsure how to continue, not because he didn't have thoughts but because he had too many. This whole situation felt wrong from the moment she turned up, a Jetii investigating a random murder on a planet where her jurisdiction was probably non-existent. There had been some sense of truth in her answer, the desire to do good and bring justice to a threat that had stepped too far, yet one layer of truth didn't mean she was telling him everything.

Slowly, he turned his Buy'ce towards her, "...Now, I've got to wonder. Is there anything you think we're walking into I'd like to know about?"

Valery Noble
​

​

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Jedi Jumpsuit (Robes over it)
Weapons: Lightsabers

Valery's grip on the speeder's controls remained steady as Itzhal spoke, her amber eyes locked on the road ahead. The way he trailed off before finishing his initial assessment wasn't lost on her. It mirrored the faint unease she herself felt but didn't show. The mission already carried the weight of uncertainty, and she wasn't about to fan those flames unnecessarily.

When he turned his helmet toward her and posed his question, she let a moment of silence stretch between them. The soft hum of the speeder and the occasional distant sound of the city filled the air. Her expression remained composed, but there was a flicker of thoughtfulness in her gaze before she responded.

"I don't think we're just dealing with a gang," she admitted, her voice calm but edged with caution. "Everything about this feels... calculated. The way they've stayed under the radar, the way their movements seem deliberate rather than chaotic. It's not just about territorial squabbles or petty crime. There's a purpose to what they're doing — I can feel it." It could still mean an ordinary gang, but it just felt off to her.

Her gaze shifted back to the road as the factory district came into view. Smoke and faintly glowing embers from industrial stacks painted the horizon in shades of gray and orange. The hum of machinery grew louder, blending with the faint buzz of street-level activity.

"I don't have every piece of the puzzle yet," Valery admitted, "But you'll be the first I share them with."

The speeder slowed as they neared their destination, Valery guiding the bright yellow vehicle into the shadow of a looming factory. She let the engine idle, her amber eyes narrowing as she scanned their surroundings. The air felt heavier here, charged with a faint tension she couldn't ignore.

"Looks like we're here," she said, her tone lighter but still carrying an edge. "Let's see if Crasska left us another footprint."

Itzhal Volkihar ​

 

[Itzhal Volkihar]

Itzhal listened to Valery's response with the same attention and dedication he'd applied to the shrine room, picking apart her words for falsehoods or deceptions until he was forced to come to a conclusion. It would have been easier if she'd denied his suspicions outright, revealing a snake that considered their prey guileless and whose only purpose was to shadow and disrupt his mission or complete objectives hidden from his sight. He was hardly surprised, however, that the woman beside him was more than capable of avoiding such pitfalls. In the end, he couldn't be certain what she knew and what was merely guesswork, only that her net of information spread far more expansive than his own.

Trust or don't. Two choices, simple as a step to the left or a step to the right and yet so much harder to accomplish.

For now, they were allies. He wouldn't be the one to break that offer, not until any oaths made were already tarnished and shattered across the smoke-filled streets.

"And I'll offer you the same courtesy," Itzhal nodded, another promise exchanged and another step closer to the puzzle behind it all.

With a glance away from her, Itzhal gaze roamed over the streets that flicked past; a filter of grey seeping smoke and blooming sparks of orange light lit up the Factory District and the people that scurried far below. Their passage was far faster than he would have dared risk as they passed lights and streaking vessels, never stopping despite the pile-ups that should have slowed them every step of the way. He was running low on time to decypher the access card as he turned his attention back towards it.

The stream of data that covered the side of his HuD continued in the background until more and more of the code was visible, though he didn't have the tools to change what flickered across the screen—Identification, security measures, tracking features, points of interest, and patrol routes. It was all there, hidden amongst a filter of ramshackle code and multiple years' worth of alterations. He didn't have time to narrow it down, not to figure out what each part meant on an individual basis.

Then they landed, the canary abomination coming to a stop as the engine grumbled into silence.

"We've still got a lot of ground to carry," Itzhal warned them as his helmet slowly panned across the nearby factories; large puffs of heat and fumes shot into the air with every bellow as the shadows of industrial monoliths loomed over them all. "I've figured out the chip. It's part of an IFF system; every one of the guards will have a little sensor like this attached to their body. For the most part, it's probably what stops any turrets or defences blasting them. The problem is it'll also keep track of them in the building; attempt to use this, and we'll be observed constantly the moment they notice we're not meant to be there."

Turning his head back towards Valery, Itzhal raised his datapad, offering the data and code that notably hadn't changed much in the last thousand years; either they'd decided older was better than more recent programs, or they had another reason for it.

"Your call. It should also have the building coordinates near the top, but I'd be reading code for hours to get anything else."

Valery Noble​

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Jedi Jumpsuit (Robes over it)
Weapons: Lightsabers

Valery listened carefully, her amber eyes narrowing slightly as Itzhal explained the chip's function. The confirmation of an IFF system and its potential consequences solidified her suspicions — it was very advanced tech for ordinary crime groups. They were hiding something in there.

Protecting it.

She reached for the datapad Itzhal offered, her gaze scanning the displayed code briefly. The ancient nature of the programming caught her attention, and her lips pressed into a thin line.

Valery handed the datapad back to Itzhal, her expression steady but contemplative. "We can't risk triggering the system unnecessarily. The moment they see something out of place, they'll lock us down." Her gaze shifted toward the towering factories, their shadows stretching across the street like ominous sentinels. The air was thick with industrial fumes, and the faint hum of machinery created a tense backdrop for their conversation. She could feel the weight of their task settling in, the Force humming with potential outcomes.

"We'll play this cautiously," Valery said decisively. "We'll avoid using the chip for now. I'd rather rely on subtlety and keep us off their radar as long as possible. If we can locate their central security hub, we might be able to override or at least neutralize the tracking system altogether. And I can get us through just about any barrier without having to use these access cards."

Her grip on her lightsaber hilt tightened slightly, a physical anchor for her thoughts. "We start by locating a good entry point. If you've got those coordinates locked in, we can move quietly and figure out our approach. Once we're inside, we can adapt as needed."

Her gaze flicked back to Itzhal, her fiery determination shining through. "Let's move. The longer we wait, the more time they have to tighten their grip."

Itzhal Volkihar ​

 

[Itzhal Volkihar]

Receiving the datapad as it was offered back to him, Itzhal shifted his weight away from the poorly cushioned backrest as he stowed the miniature computer in a larger pouch across the back of his belt. He understood the risks well enough. If she wanted to avoid using the chip until later, then he'd concede the matter. It meant little difference to him as long as they had a plan of some type.

The handle of the door failed to move as he pushed it, waiting to see if anything would change before the Mandalorian was forced to step up and over the steel plate, one hand against it for balance, before he hopped down onto the pavement below. His hands were quick to settle near his holsters, ready to draw yet wary. As warning symbols flashed across the side of his HuD, displays of air purity and toxin indicators went wild with his proximity to the industrial giants that poured poison into the atmosphere.

"Might want to grab a rebreather," Itzhal warned as he started to move, his steps tracing a path that only he could see as the coordinates of the chip were inserted into the local database he'd pried from the speeder merchant—they'd been rather reticent despite the credits he'd paid for such a heap of scrap, eventually though the offer had won out. Itzhal still felt like he'd lost.

After a few moments of staring at the route applied, he had a few doubts about how equipped the program was for on-foot navigation unless he was expected to jump across a fifty-foot gap. "If we're walking there at this speed, we can probably reach the factory in ten minutes and more discreetly than the speeder would ever get us. Well, assuming we're going for the front entrance anyway. It'll take us longer if we want to take a look around," He pointed up, a short gap in the towering structures providing a glimpse of a fast-moving platform as it ascended to the upper levels, noticeably further away from the fumes of the industrial district. "I figure we can make a stop at this turbolift about three minutes from the factory; it's meant to lead further up onto another city level, but a maintenance ladder should get us a good vantage point."

Walking casually through the streets and back alleys that kept them out of sight or at least beyond the average worker's attention, Itzhal tilted his helmet slightly, once again finding Valery in the peripheral of his vision as he looked her up and down, vaguely amused before the next words even left his lips, "Otherwise, there's always the sewers."

Tag: Valery Noble​

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Jedi Jumpsuit (Robes over it)
Weapons: Lightsabers

Valery landed on the pavement with a practiced ease, her amber eyes flicking to Itzhal as he suggested the use of a rebreather. The faint flicker of toxins in the air stung at her senses but wasn't overwhelming just yet. Still, his caution was noted, and she reached for her belt, unclipping the compact rebreather she always kept at the ready.

"Good call," she said, slipping it into place over her nose and mouth with a quick motion. Her gaze then followed the path Itzhal was marking on his helmet's display. She took in the towering industrial structures and their maze of pathways, her sharp mind already piecing together the possibilities.

As they started moving, Valery noticed the subtle tilt of his helmet in her direction and the way his visor lingered for just a beat too long. She arched a brow, the smirk deepening into something playfully knowing. But when he mentioned the sewers, her nose wrinkled slightly, and she shot him a sidelong glance.

"The sewers?" she echoed, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Tempting, but I'd rather not spend the rest of the mission reeking of industrial waste. Smelling bad is one way to alert the guards." Her tone carried a light, teasing edge, though her meaning was serious enough. She didn't relish the thought of trudging through a sludge-filled underworld when other options were on the table.

Her gaze drifted upward to the turbolift he'd pointed out, and she gave a small nod. "Your other idea works better. The maintenance ladder should give us the vantage point we need without drawing attention. Cleaner, too," she added with a wry chuckle.

Still, her focus quickly returned to the path ahead. The faint hum of machinery and distant clanging filled the air, underscoring the sense of danger lurking in every shadow. "I'll lead the way," she said, her voice steady. "Let's get this vantage point and figure out what exactly we're walking into."

Itzhal Volkihar ​

 

[Itzhal Volkihar]

Awaiting her response to the more than questionable suggestion of heading into the sewers, Itzhal was pleased to know his helmet disguised much of the smirk that lingered on his lips, faintly amused as he was with the image of Jedi robes tarnished in unmentionable refuse. It was a petty thought, less attached to the woman herself and the memory of those who deserved much worse.

"Could serve as a distraction. They might have to hold their breath," Itzhal argued, not because he expected to win the argument for sewer diving but because it fuelled the humour in his chest.

After all, they had a much better alternative: the turbo-lift was not far from their position and even within sight as it shot back and forward, a near-constant blur of movement that sank into the background. The maintenance ladders, another structure of grey and silver in a world that seemed determined to avoid any other colours, would be similar. It was just a matter of reaching it as they continued to walk, the conversation carrying on between them as they got closer and closer.

"I'll watch our backs," He stated as the base of the structure came in sight, a few workers passing by without a further glance for the woman in robes and only a few more for the visibly armed Mandalorian. With a glance, his gaze followed the turbolift as it shrieked upwards, the movement perfectly smooth as those within reached the peak in only a matter of moments. It was a shame he didn't have a jetpack; the almost claustrophobic sense of being stuck on the ground, trapped by human bounds, was a feeling he hadn't realized he'd developed until recently.

He wanted to fly. Yet, all he could do was climb towards the sky.

"I take it you've got some way of seeing from up there," He nodded up the ladder, ready to follow once she started making her way up and the coast was clear. The sensors in his equipment, ancient as they were, would sort the job well enough even after all these years.

Tag: Valery Noble​

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Jedi Jumpsuit (Robes over it)
Weapons: Lightsabers

Valery raised an eyebrow at Itzhal's quip about the sewers, her lips curling into a faint smirk. "Right, because Jedi should aspire to reek so badly it disorients the enemy," she said dryly, her tone carrying just enough humor to meet his banter. "But no, we're not doing that. I'd rather not announce our presence in a way that'll make guards gag before they even see us."

Her attention shifted to the turbo-lift as its blurred motion caught her eye. The alternative route was far from glamorous, but it was practical — discreet and direct, which was exactly what they needed. Her amber gaze scanned the surrounding area, her instincts heightened as she searched for any immediate threats or wandering eyes.

"Good," she replied to Itzhal's promise to watch their backs. She took a step toward the base of the ladder, her movements slow and deliberate. "I'll go first. Let's keep this quiet."

Without further hesitation, Valery gripped the cold metal of the ladder and began her ascent. Her movements were methodical, her steps placed with care to avoid unnecessary noise. She climbed steadily and slowly, making sure that she wouldn't alert anybody and to give Itzhal his best chances of watching out over them. Every so often, she paused to glance up, gauging the distance remaining, or down to ensure Itzhal was following closely and that they weren't being watched.

Finally, she reached the edge of the maintenance platform and carefully hauled herself up. From this vantage point, the factory's layout began to take shape, its sprawling pathways and towering smokestacks offering a clearer sense of their surroundings. Valery crouched low, her gaze sweeping over the area below for patrols or other hazards.

Glancing back at Itzhal as he approached, she nodded toward the factory's main building, where faint lights glimmered through grime-covered windows. "We've got a decent view from here. I can see the main entrance and a side path. It looks less guarded, but there might be hidden patrols or automated defenses. What do you think?"

Her voice was hushed, her demeanor focused as she waited for his assessment. The sense of unease in the Force lingered, and she trusted it to guide their next steps.

Itzhal Volkihar ​

 

[Itzhal Volkihar]

Following behind once, he was sure that Valery had gotten far enough up to keep an eye on the ground below. The Mandalorian gave one final glance around the street, eyes lingering upon the few individuals who passed him by before crossing the street. Then, confident he was unwatched or at least considered unimportant, he made his move towards the ladder, one step up and carrying him far enough to jump onto the next set of rungs as he cut the distance between himself and the Jedi at remarkable speeds.

The rattle of metal that followed in his rush was easily mistakable for the turbo-lift as it passed, a harsh breeze of air ruffling across the walkway as Itzhal stood up, another step bringing him away from the edge before they moved onto the next set of stairwells, higher and higher into the air until they reached the vantage point from where they settled into a crouch, the two figures hidden within a patch of darkness formed of smog and industrial monoliths.

Sticking close to Valery's back to ensure they reduced their profile, Itzhal looked over the edge, his attention passing by the distant structures and even the barely visible sea on the horizon as they focused upon their target. Taller than most of its competitors, the premier industrial facility of Kabal Enterprises seemed determined to stand above them all, a goliath with multiple smokestacks and a large central tower which, even from here, billowed with an oppressive heat that attempted to seep into his bodysuit.

The main entrance that Valery mentioned was a massive blast door, roughly twenty feet tall and currently open, although even reaching it required a walk through the open courtyard, where a couple of security guards walked past on their way between a guard station and the outer fence. Their uniforms were surprisingly clean for the supposed operation they were involved in. Quietly, Itzhal wondered for a moment whether he'd made a mistake, though a pass over the higher stacks noticed an individual walking across the outer walkways, a Tognath, their metal mask almost indistinguishable from the others wearing rebreathers, though still enough for him to identify the bounty on a member of the Ash Blades.

Zalum Tesem, a minor enforcer wanted for battery and assault, flickered across his HuD beside a visual comparison and the offer of two hundred credits for those who brought him in alive.

Unaware of the nearby duo, his steps carried him towards a side entrance. The upper walls covered what appeared to be a smaller building with a fire exit attached, which Valery had identified as leading into the building interior as well as the courtyard below. Though it was difficult to notice much else from their position with just his natural vision, the Mandalorian was thankfully not quite so limited as he reached towards the side of his helmet and activated the magnification features hidden within. With the full use of his rangefinder, Itzhal noticed a number of unusual bumps and divots amongst the outer hull, potentially the sign of hidden turrets or just well-hidden air conditioning units.

"Building looks legitimate, and the outer guard patrols don't have recognised bounties. A few of them have security licenses coinciding with employment contracts for an official company called Kabal Enterprises, supposedly a local business," Itzhal informed her as the information streamed across the side of his HuD, faces little more than a blur as their details passed him by and the connections formed. "I'm not sure how aware they are of the situation; they might not even know about Crasska or serve at his beck and call. Not much of a way to tell until we get inside and figure out what's going on."

"There's one thing that I do know, though," He pointed up towards the smoke stacks and outer walkways, a rare patrol passing by as their bounties displayed across his visor like a verifiable jackpot. "that side entrance might not have many guards, but it isn't being watched by anyone official... Ash Blades only."

Tag: Valery Noble​

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Jedi Jumpsuit (Robes over it)
Weapons: Lightsabers

Valery crouched low, her amber eyes narrowing as she absorbed Itzhal's detailed assessment of the facility. The sight of the towering factory and its smog-streaked exterior only deepened the unease in the Force, but it was his mention of the Ash Blades that drew her focus. Her gaze followed his gesture toward the smokestacks and the outer walkways, her expression sharpening with determination.

"Ash Blades," she repeated, her voice low and steady. "That's trouble."

She glanced back at Itzhal, the faint glimmer of a smirk tugging at her lips. "If we can get close enough, I can handle the security. Doors, locks, even minor systems — most of it won't be a problem. The Force has its... advantages." Her tone carried a note of quiet confidence, though her focus remained fixed on the task ahead.

Valery shifted her weight slightly, her hand brushing against the hilt of her saber as she scanned the guards' patterns and the timing of their patrols. "But we need to be careful. If the Ash Blades are working here, they might have their own countermeasures. Let's stick to the shadows and avoid drawing attention until we're inside."

She looked back at him, her voice softening just enough to acknowledge his expertise. "Your eyes and tech give us a huge advantage here. Keep an eye out for anything I might miss, and I'll make sure we don't trip any alarms."

Her gaze lingered on him briefly before returning to the facility. "When you're ready, lead the way. Once we're at the side entrance, I'll get us in."

Itzhal Volkihar ​