Black Cat Seeker (Deceit)

[Squee]

Thousands of sounds collapsed upon themselves to form the droning, buzzing vibrations, like a hive of insects. Energy trickled out of every orifice. It was almost tangible, and even, dare say, likeable. Hundreds heaped into thousands and thousands piled into the tens of thousands. There was noise. There was heat. There was the steady pulsing that pierced through the soles of the boot and electrified the nerves and senses. It opened eyes and activated a response out of the body. It was a second heartbeat, strongly influential and often misleading, with more heart failure than the original.

It was gears, turning, making the machine run. A clanky, ugly machine. The machine had many parts, and it could be guaranteed that several pieces were missing. While the machine did not run well-oiled, the rusting cogs refused to rest. So, they groaned on, keeping the machine running; steady chug-chug-chugging.

Dog packs resided here. They had their own hierarchy and their own rules to play buy. If biting was the playful nature, so the dogs would bite. Some of the packs hunted together and well; others segregated to their own ways to attack their targets. Small groups usually did well to bring meat home, earning their right to the juiciest pieces as commanded by the leader of the pack. Many dogs missed their targets, returning to the alpha with their heads down, tail tucked between their legs, jaws gapingly empty, whimpering excuses and groveling to why they shouldn’t be exiled for their disgrace. Often those who failed to bring the meat repaid that loss were gutted with their throats torn out, and then all was forgiven. Without the shedding of blood, there wasn’t a remission of sin.

It was survival of the fittest. Where babies nearly starved and parents stood by, saying it will live if it will live. The mentally ill were hardly appreciated. The crippled left to become dust. Those pups that grew up knowing they were strong might become arrogant and haughty were instantly pushed back and reminded of their places. The top dogs ruled everything here, and it was wise to understand position if said pups wanted to survive. Out of place actions and pipe ups could result in violence, and the pups were generally the ones who were killed.

These packs competed, and they competed well. Some had wolf blood in their veins, therefore brawny, full of muscle and great power that was enough to overrun and destroy their enemies. Others bred a type of fox into them, and were overly cunning and deceiving, mentally taking apart their enemies. Yet another set were a mixture of brawn and intelligence. Fox-like leaders organized and choreographed actions of the wolves to exhaust their enemies, avoiding public brawls like a contagious disease as well as slap the enemy around with a terrible force.

So, what would happen when a cat was thrown into the mix?

First of all, the cat wouldn’t be thrown in. It would sneak in. The cat’s job? A cat was independent and respected solitude to almost the point of worship. The cat’s business was his own. Anyone who asked would meet a wall of confidential stubbornness and a scratch on the snout to remind them their nosiness was not wished. A cat was smarter than a fox, conniving ways to bring their doom by a hand other than his own. It was by using a handful of tricks that wolves were easily taken care of; examples of which included convincing them to run off a building or offering to have them drink from a bowl of contaminated water. It was look, don’t touch, and display dominance. Without establishing dominance, anyone who claimed to be a cat would find themselves eaten for breakfast.

A cat was hardly neutral. It had usually one or two loyalties, and would visit those loyalties often.

Tesa was curious as to what kind of cats she could find. Would she find a vocal loving tabby or an unoriginal, easily spotted calico? She was on the look-out for a black cat. Black cats kept strict limits on themselves and kept invaders of their privacy in check. Black cats were known for their bringing of bad luck. They struck fear into the heart. They were least wanted type of cats. But Tesa know they also made adorable, fuzzy companions.

“Now, if I want to find a black cat, I’ll have to think like one,” she stood off to the side, hands placed on her hips. “Then again, there are a number of different black cats, aren’t there?”

“Is this metaphorically? If not, I think you’ve got something wrong with your brain, Ms Tesa, and I think you should get is diagnosed. Ooo, unless you want a real black cat. I’m sure there’s a pet shop here on Nar Shaddaa. I’m not quite sure the shape of such animals. You think a cat would eat me? I don’t think I’d fancy being in the—“

“Sane, you’re rambling.”

“Sorry,” the little droid’s claws clung tighter to her shoulder as Tesa started to walk with a purpose. “So, metaphorically? I daren’t think you would be the kind to be sent on recruitment missions. What kind of black cat? … Would any kind eat me?”

“Oh, you’re paranoid.”

“And you’re not? What if you were told a metaphor about something that could possibly eat you?”

“You just need to know you’re not that tasty.”

“You’ve tried!? Oh how disgusting! I require a cleaning!”

Tesa smirked at the AER droid’s reaction before telling him to quiet down. She had approached a building by now with a lit sign above the door that advertised weaponry. After thinking about her options on what kind of black cat she could find, she figured the best one would be one who knew how to use a silly weapon. The sign barely got a glance over as she stepped in the shop.

She was sure she wouldn’t raise too much suspicion. Tesa had chosen her outfit to appear as another citizen, only better in appearance, with a small pack slung over her shoulder. Her hair was done more than the usual citizen; mostly straightened except the few inches from the ends, which were tied off and made into a series of little braids. The store she was entering was set in the heart of a thug gang’s territory, one with wolves and foxes running it. She was selected it this way. First of all, the supplies here would be better quality, sold to mostly the crime lord’s men running this sector. Second of all, she was least likely to be sucked into some war about the turf. Thirdly, she could appear as a woman who was doing an errand for her boyfriend or husband, who was part of the leading gang. She adjusted her pack and took a look around the store. The only person was at a counter, and the store owner wasn’t to be seen. Tesa made her way slowly forward, giving a glance at some of the weaponry with the impression she hadn’t a clue what they were. The owner appeared from a back room and leaned on his elbows toward the customer. They exchanged a couple of words that ended with the customer tapping his hand a couple of times on the counter, saying something about checking back in a couple of days, and then he departed, brushing past Tesa on the way out.

“Miss?” Brown hair, light blue eyes. Tesa already didn’t like him.

“Oh!” Tesa looked away from the merchandise and looked the store keeper. “Um, yes, my boyfriend sent me to pick up… whatever it was, I have a note since I can’t remember a darn thing.” She laughed lightly, rummaging through her small sack and producing a fake note written on durasheet, walking it to the counter. She handed it to the man, who nodded and then he went into the back room again.

Insanus piped up, sounding confused, “But you don’t have a boy—“

“Shut up, Sane!” Tesa hissed at the bird droid as she vaulted over the counter and followed the manager. He must have heard her footsteps, because he turned to face her, his mouth opening to question her motives. Tesa grabbed the skinny man that was hardly taller than her by the collar and shoved him into the nearest corner, a stack of shelves rattling. He yelped upon impact with the shelf, a small box bouncing off his head. She grabbed him by the front collar this time, snarling in his face while dabbling in the Force to adopt a further darkness around them.

“What do you want? Are you after someone? You want a name?”

He cracked under pressure. Perfect. “New on the job, I can tell.
You’re not supposed to let someone know you’re an informant of any kind, you fool. You should have assumed I knew nothing and just wanted to mug you for the good stuff.” Tesa cracked into a mad grin, pressing the darkness around the man. “I want names, appointments you may have. Anything, everything. I’m sure you’ve got a datapad around here, too. Since your lips are looser than a drunk’s, your mind must be shallower than a bantha’s.” She yanked the scrawny man’s small blaster out of the holster on his side with her gloved hand. “Just so you don’t get any ideas.” She turned, yanking the man around to send him after his information. “Get along, now. Tell me if someone’s outside.”

The man went back to the door, stopped, and told her someone was out there.

“Fine. By the way, come here,” Tesa snagged his arm and brought him close to her. She locked her lips around his for a few seconds, mussing up his hair in the process and wrinkled his shirt by pushing it up. “There. Now, get me that information.” She reached up to the ties below her neck, undoing and pulling them quickly. She messed the hair on the back of her head and shoved the blaster in her waistband at the small of her back, dropping her bag. As she came out with a slight cough, pretending to straighten her shirt, she noticed the informant all but stock still and the person in the shop grinned knowingly as he saw Tesa come out from the back room. After all, there had to be an explanation in the wait to be served.

“Business a little slow today?” the customer asked and the man turned a bright shade of red as he fumbled for a datapad. Tesa held a small smile and offered her services to help him. It seemed many people just came to pick up something, and Tesa took the name and went into the storeroom once again. Insanus had perched himself on a shelf and stayed shutted up just as she had asked. The customer got what he was looking for, paid, and promptly left with a whisper of advice into the man’s ear that renewed the large blush.

Tesa snatched the datapad from the man, scrolling through the files. She tapped one. “Hm… not even a passcode. Tsk tsk. This is everyone?” She got a nod. “Right, into the storeroom again, stupid.” He did as he was told with an encouraging shove from Tesa. Making sure the back wall was behind him, Tesa tugged out the blaster pistol and promptly shot the fence in the head. “And stupid people shall die. I can’t believe I just shared air with him.” She tossed the blaster pistol onto the dead body and then held her hand up for Insanus to hop onto.

“As well as spit swapping.”

“Ewwww, you make it sound so nasty.” Tesa scrunched up her nose and backed up, closing the back room door behind her. She pulled up the stool sat on it, placing Insanus on the counter. “I have to fix the back of my hair because of him.” She was blotting her lips on her sleeve as she said so, and then tightened the strings of her shirt some. She pulled out the ties that held the braids in back out, combing her fingers through the crown of her head and down, smoothing it out. Then she simply figured she wouldn’t try to re-braid the ends. The braids on the sides would still allow a decent look. Tesa rested her back on the wall and placed a boot on the counter while cradling the datapad in her hand to go through names.

“Now, to wait for my black cat…”

[Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice*]

Nar Shaddaa, home territory. It had been a very long time since Graffion had been here, but still his reign of terror lived on; people remembered him, and not just for his effective assassination of many local leaders, but also for his brutal killings, assertion of complete dominance, and enigmatic personality. He was, for all intents and purposes, king of this part of Nar Shaddaa. A small area, with small packs. He was more popular with the lesser crime lords than the bigger ones, because he was known to work for underdogs sometimes, and he was certainly known for killing plenty of them too. When Graffion Maruhuey walked in these parts of the streets, people stepped out of his way.

He didn't always like that kind of attention. Because when people knew you were good, they also tried to ask you favors. Or, there's always that fool walking around with a blaster who thinks he can take on the world, and killing a famous assassin is a good way instantly move up in the ranks. It was all about reputation sometimes, and reputation is something you can steal. Today was one of those days he didn't want to be bothered. He just wanted a job and some money, and didn't want to attract all idiots of the streets while he tried to do that.

He was wearing a hooded cloak, which already told everyone on the streets that he was someone who didn't want to be recognized. It was a move he knew had certain degrees of risks, but one he was willing to take. So far, nobody knew he was here except for Artemis Entreri, and Artemis was in no position to be doing...Anything. After all, dead men tell no tales. That last thought brought a satisfied smirk to his face. In his mind, he was -always- the best, but this was his final test. Kill your master, become the master.

As he made his way through the crowds, he saw a movement to his right and felt the slight tingle as a hand brushed against the inside of his cloak. His own hand snapped out and gripped the wrist of the little thief who tried pick-pocketing him, yanking them around and in front of him. It was a Twi'lek child of blue skin. Graffion lifted his arm and the little girl by the wrist, pulling her off the ground and up to eye level. Her free arm promptly flashed out and attempted to stab him in the face with some sort of pocket knife. Graffion's other hand shot up and stopped this nonesense.

He lifted his head so that she could see directly into his hood, though it was shrouded in shadow. She could not tell that Graffion was smirking, she just stared in open eyed fear. Graffion pulled the young ruffian away from the street, and into an alley, pushing passed a few people. Once he had her in a bit of seclusion he pushed her up against a wall, his forearm clamped around her neck so she could hardly breath, and definitely not cry for help.

"Idiot." He remarked with a bit of a sigh, "Your fingers lack the nimbleness to get inside of a pocket without brushing."

"I'm sorry, don't kill me!" she gasped, barely audible.

Graffion chuckled, leaning his head back and allowing his hood to fall a bit, the light catching his face. She stared into his mechanical eye, mouth agape. "You can live on two conditions." He said, a smile creeping across his face. "You tell nobody you saw me. If you do, I will know. And you will be in big trouble." He held a finger up to her eyes and wagged it a few times, "And don't think I won't find you."

She nodded, "Nope, won't tell a soul!"

He looked at her and chuckled, "I don't believe you." He said playfully, "Now tell me something. Where around here can I get information?"

"I don't know, ask a grown up."

Graffion sighed, "Well, I suppose I'll let you go then." He then loosened his grip, and she strated to scram. He leaned forward and hooked his arm around her shoulder, spinning her around and facing her down the alley-way, "But, you have to go that way." He said smirking. He knew this area of the streets well enough to know that down there was a popular mugging spot. And so did she.

"What? NO!" She murmured, horrified.

"Oh? You don't wanna go down there, you tell me, who can I get me some information from around here?"

"Eeep!" She squeaked, which amused him. He looked up, staring down the dark alley. Deeper down he could see movements in the shadow, thugs, muggers, whatever they were. They weren't happy to see him. This drew a smirk from Graffion. He turned his back from them, knelt down and stared the girl in the eye. He could tell she saw them creeping as well, because she kept looking over his shoulder. "Now, little girl, where?"

"Weapons shop." She stammered, wanting to be anywhere but here. "My daddy goes there for information all the time."

"Which one?"

"The only one in this square!" She said with some spunk, which drew a sly smile from Graffion, "Thanks doll." He said, standing up as if ready to leave. That's whent he footsteps were very audible, a bit behind him and coming in fast. He grabbed the girl by the shoulders and swiftly tossed her off to the side, the wall of a building harshly breaking her landing and taking her breath away.

Quickly, Graffion spun and assessed his situation. It was an Aqualish with a bad temper and worse breath, carrying a very large, very heavy pole. And swinging it down at Graffion. He casually side-stepped and let it hit the floor hard, bringing up a lot of sparks. Aqualish, only one really good way to take care of them.

A series of quick punches to the throat had it stumbling backwards, then Graffion reached into the back of his cloak and gripped the handle of his Wookie bowcaster, whipping it out with just one arm and holding it in front of him, finger on the trigger arm extended; bolt pointed right at the Aqualish's neck. Graffion made an amusing tick noise with his tongue and made a little pistol shape with his finger, pretending to fire. Then he really did, the bolt slamming out with such power that it jarred his entire arm ( which hurt like hell ) but Graffion managed to get the weapon under-control, and after watching with amusement as the bolt tore through the Aqualish's neck, ripping its head from its shoulders and sending both head and body skidding down the alley, he brought the weapon in close.

With both hands he held the weapon in blace and then put another bolt in, straining every bit of his muscles as he pulled it back and readied the firing mechanism, a feat beyond the strength of the average human. Graffion then readied his aim down the alley again, but only to see the rest of the thugs fleeing. With a grin he spun and turned back to the girl, who was just now getting up. He aimed the weapon at her.

"I'm not going anywhere." She lied, terrified.

"Yes, you are. But your not going to tell anybody about this for a few days, now are you?"

She just shook her head slowly, gulping.

"Now, I believe you."

~*~

Ten minutes later he had replaced his cloak and made his way across the square, finding the weapons shop with the lit up sign advertising it. With a smirk, he went through the door, his weapons all replaced ( though that bolt still loaded and ready to fire ) and his clothes all re-fit to look like he had never been doing anything out of the ordinary. For him, he hadn't.

As the door closed behind him he stopped, reached to a sign that said, "Open" and flipped it, then reached for the lock, turning it. As he turned around, he let his hood fall, revealing that it was Graffion Maruhuey. Of course, he had no way of knowing that this particular fence would never recognize this. In fact, she wasn't a fence at all. His strides took him right up to the counter, where he leaned forward and against it, his enigmatic blonde hair showing brightly, the pony-tail masking, mostly, his face, which had mostly been ripped out by his battle with Entreri long ago, and replaced by the mechanical eye which he was now familiarized with.

He reached his hand up and brushed it against his forehead, brushing his hair back and pulling his ponytail out of the way, fully revealing Graffion Maruhuey, then, placing his elbow on the table and lazily leaning on the palm of his hand, he stared at her, his face seeming unintrigued, yet studying her. She looked...Too pretty to be a fence, and too plain to be anything else. Otherwise, her appearance was not verysignificant, she stood against a wall, one foot propped against the counter, a datapad in her hand. He also noticed a strange droid on the counter next to her. It was like a small bird in design, but he could tell it was for a much, much more. It appeared very advanced, and very expensive.

Which was also odd for a fence.

He didn't say anything, just studied her for a moment. He would wait for her to say something first. He was curious to see her reaction, afterall he'd just closed her shop and locked her door. Not something an average customer does. Of course, he could also tell this wasn't an average fence. He had a foreboding feel that something was terribly off.

[Squee]

Tesa had found herself thirsty five minutes after relaxing on the stool, ready to read through names. That was annoying. How was it that she noticed what she needed after she had gotten comfortable. With no one around, Tesa grumbled out loud while searching for something to drink. Luckily for her, most other store keepers, or fences, tended to get thirsty waiting around all day too. It was a short couple of minutes until Tesa was sitting down on her stool again. Insanus sat staring at her with bright red eyes, which she regarded with only a sideways sweep of her own eyes. She hoisted her foot onto the counter again, slouched somewhat against the wall and once more set the datapad against her thigh to read as she opened the water.

The bottle proved to be infuriating. The lid wouldn’t unscrew and Tesa finally snarled at it, giving up on her drink and slapping it on the counter, and then read her information.

“You could get that open if you weren’t already annoyed, Ms. Tesa.”

“Just shut up, Insanus and let me read. I have to memorize most if not everything before someone walks through that door next.”

“I’m just saying. Relax some, wipe off your hand and the bottle cap, use a cloth, and you’ll get it open.”

“The towel trick never works.”

“Then just be negative about it then!”

“Perhaps I will!” Tesa looked up at the small droid, glaring at him for a moment. As she glowered at Insanus, she realized she had been arguing with a silly little fizzed out droid. He had to be somewhat malfunctioned, as he went into random quips or ramblings and yet maintained a kind of intellectual pattern. Not to mention the occasional shut down. Though he claimed to be able to sense the Force and was designed to help others (like the Jedi) track down dark siders, Tesa found it unlikely. If such a thing were so, he’d be preaching against her, and would even have tracking devices or other sinister things used to gather information on her or any other dark sider. While she had studied the bird with an amateur’s eye, she hadn’t seen any, but figured she would have Insanus thoroughly examined by a professional.

When she got around to it.

Also, while the bird droid was frustrating and got on her nerves more than much else since she had found him, Tesa had a liking for the thing. He mouthed her if she mouthed him. He had gone on a couple of good rants that Tesa found interest in. If it proved he had no other functions, Tesa was almost certain she’d keep Insanus just for something to have a conversation with.

With a light snort, Tesa held the data pad with her hand, lifted a hand, and nibbled lightly on her thumb while she read the material. She ignored Insanus and the water bottle. She had one person come in to mosey around and poke his noise around a couple of weapons before leaving. Finding nothing mysterious or discomforting about the person in the Force, other than a curiosity for the weapons, Tesa resumed her new activity of the day. The black cat would come, she was sure of it. And she would know who it was when she saw them.

The second person to enter within thirty or forty minutes after she’d started impersonating the fence jumped to the height of Tesa’s suspicious scale and captured her attention. She, of course, had glanced up when the door had opened. Who wouldn’t notice the door opening with the distinct announcement ring directly above her head? It was a person swaddled in a cloak. This earned a rise out of Tesa’s eyebrow, but she did not move. When he (she assumed it was a him) flipped her sign and locked her store door, she almost laughed. Instead, she stifled it and averted her gaze back to the datapad before he could turn around, checking her chrono in the process. She had gone through most of the names and was rehearsed well what she could be expecting this hour, so, after coding all the necessary files and giving them meaningless names, she had brought up one of the literature files the fence had. It wasn’t great, but it kept her from dying of boredom.

She was aware that the person had approached her counter, and to which she responded by continuing to read. Such behavior was in direct result of him locking her door. He wanted to play funny, she’d play funny back. Probably not the best thing she could or should do. What did she care?

Silence hung in the air for several moments, enough to make Insanus uncomfortable. His metallic feet clicked on the counter as he turned first one way to look at the newcomer, and then the other way to Tesa. This was repeated about three times more before he announced, “Ms. Tesa, I do say you’re being rude to this man.”

“Oh, pish posh, he locked my door,” Tesa replied, looking up from her datapad and waggling a finger at Insanus. “Which means he’s obviously not planning on me going anywhere. And since he needs me for something, he’s not going anywhere either.” She set the datapad down with delicacy. She lowered her leg from the counter and stood up to position herself directly across from the man. Ooo, blonde hair. Long blonde hair at that. And one of his eyes wasn’t what Tesa would call natural.

She leaned forward, mirroring the man using her opposite arm. She set her chin in her palm and looked at him with a slight raise of the eyebrows. “So… you the late two o’clock or the early two thirty?” A small smirk turned her lips as she asked the question.

And then she remembered her water bottle that wouldn’t open.

She sat up a little, long enough to reach over and pick up the water bottle. Holding it by the neck, she brought it between her and the man, setting it in the middle. Then her chin returned to its restful spot in her hand. “Do me a favor before I give you your poison; open that for me, please?”

[Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice*]

Graffion stared peculiarly at the strange avian droid. It was like a metallic rat with wings, slowly tip-tip-tapping, exchanging its blank stare from Graffion to the fence. When next Insanus turned his gaze upon Graffion, Graffion replied by staring back at the little droid, raising an eyebrow, and then with a slight shrugging motion, he turned his attention back to Tesa.

“Ms. Tesa, I do say you’re being rude to this man.” The avian droid spoke.

Finally, she reacted, “Oh, pish posh, he locked my door,” she protested, causing Graffion to cock his head at the interesting, if not amusing, word choice, “Which means he’s obviously not planning on me going anywhere. And since he needs me for something, he’s not going anywhere either.” He slowly nodded his head in agreeance, but didn't make any other motions, still waiting on her. Finally she got up, rising to height and standing across the counter from him. His eye looked up, following her and tracing what she was looking at. She appeared to be judging his appearance, her sights set on his hair. She didn't seem at all displeased at his odd hair, which surprised him. Most people who didn't know him would give him a sideways look.

And obviously this fence had never seen or heard of him.

She leaned forward and copied his own mannerisms, raising her brows and asked, “So… you the late two o’clock or the early two thirty?” This drew a smirk from Graffion, the first real expression that slipped from him that was a calculated move. She suddenly moved as if remembering something, reaching over and grabbing a bottle of water, then placing it down in front of him, “Do me a favor before I give you your poison; open that for me, please?”

Graffion came out of his relaxed, leaning position and stood up straight, reaching down and placing one hand around the bottle to keep it from moving, he placed the other upon the cap and with a small bit of effort, he popped the cap and twisted it off, the tension of the bottle visibly relaxing. Then, he stared down at the bottle, sighed, and pushed it across to Tesa, placing the cap neatly on top of the bottle of water but leaving it unscrewed. He stood up straight again and folded his arms, "I'm looking for a contract." He told her, simply and straight-forward, the obvious assassin lingo for a contract to kill. "High paying, and prefferably a fixed mark." ( Fixed mark meaning, the target tends to linger around certain locations ) "Or, is there something else you needed opening?" He turned to Insanus and added with a silly smirk, "Or shutting."

[Squee]

Tesa grinned as the man stood up straight, taking her bottled water. She didn’t sit up though, oh no. Her eyes fixed sternly on the water bottle, watching in a somewhat envious manner as he twisted the cap easily to break the seal. Why couldn’t that happen to her all the time? Well, she could have called the Force to aid her, but she hadn’t thought about it while she maintained a loose safety net in the Force. If an extreme Force sensitive walked along the front of the shop, she knew about it before the being passed by her window. While the Force had been an option, it was history now, and it was more fun to watch someone do something for her rather than doing it herself.

The bottle was set back toward her, cap left atop. Tesa raised her gloved hand and took the cap off, setting it on the counter, and then picking up the bottle. Her chin didn’t rise from the palm of her hand, and she simply tipped the bottle upward after she pressed it to her lips. She took her drink and then sat up, leaning against the wall beside the storeroom door. She glanced over to Insanus; “See? I can find other ways to open a stupid bottle of water than your silly towel trick that never works.”

“It does too work! I’ve seen it happen!”

Tesa waved a dismissing hand at the avian shaped droid. “Don’t make me splash some over you,” she threatened sarcastically. She took another brief drink, leaning forward to pick up the cap. “Thank you,” she said, mildly polite, to the blonde haired man who now stood with his arms crossed before him. Though he didn’t seem like it at the moment, Tesa was sure she’d sensed a bit of amusement about him. Good. Finding a stone-faced jerk would have been boring. It meant that he did not enjoy his work. No smirks, no smiles, no amusement, and no joy behind his actions.

That could make the mere difference in Tesa’s search. She wanted a thorough black cat, and not a gray cat with a black fur coat. One who liked his job would do it more willingly. It was those kinds of people who did things ‘just because’ and wouldn’t hesitate doing something, especially if it benefitted them more than just earning a few credits.

"I'm looking for a contract. High paying, and preferably a fixed mark. Or, is there something else you needed opening? Or shutting."

“I beg your pardon!”

The outburst made Tesa crack a half smile. She twisted the cap closed around the bottle and stepped forward to pet her fingers along the cool, smooth exterior of the droid. “There, there, Sane, no reason to get so worked up.”

Insanus turned his head, peering up at Tesa with red glass eyes. She swore that if Insanus could give a glare, this was as close as it came. She slid the backs of her fingers over his head once more. “What do you expect me to do? Coo?”

Something punctured through her sixth sense. A feeling of surprise, fear, and some dread even. It was sharp, almost as acrid as smoke to Tesa because of the sheer suddenness of the heart-lurching feelings. Otherwise, she would have enjoyed harvesting those feelings and digested them for her personal uplifting. Tesa quickly reminded herself she had a guest and that she had no will to express her talents in the Force just yet. She blinked, hand already raised from Insanus, and she leaned past him to pick up her datapad. Both bottled water and datapad went on the counter before her. Tesa had no reason or excuse to need the datapad, other than a time killing function while she thought about the feelings. It was from the outside, but she couldn’t just look up and go look outside. That would be horribly suspicious. She touched the datapad screen, pretending to look for a contract while she tossed ideas on what to do about the soul outside. Was it a mistake? Was it looking in?

“Eyes!” squawked Insanus. His mechanical wings lifted, making him appear as if he would take flight any second. “Eyes, eyes, EYES, Tesa. EYES!” He was having an outright fit.

“Huh?” Tesa looked up, fixing eyes on the panicking droid with a slight crinkle in her brow, as if she couldn’t believe him. The Force prickled, and the hair on the back of her neck stood up as another wave of fear pulsed from whatever it was outside.

Eyes! In the window! Are you blind!?”

“Let it be.”

“EYES!”

Tesa sighed and stepped back from the counter, finger swiping the datapad to code everything once again. She began around it, looking around the blonde-haired man, and started toward the window. She was grateful that Insanus had chosen this particular moment to go crazy. Now she could inspect her curiosity without appearing out of her league. At least, not too much more.

And then she spotted the subtle glow of a pair of orbs, just peering over the bottom edge of the window, bob to the side, out of the view. Tesa was annoyed. There was no way to find out what exactly had made whatever it was fill with sudden terror. She couldn’t chase him down and enter his thoughts. She barely contained a snarl at the restriction of her powers that required physical touch to enter the mind. Tesa pressed the button that closed off the inside of the store window. Any other passerby would not be able to peer into the store and radiate peculiar moods that would aggravate her anymore.

What could have scared him so? Why would he run away after being spotted? Tesa blinked, letting her hand off the button when the moving cover settled in place on the window. The man, she suddenly thought. She turned around with a slight narrowing of her eyes toward the blonde man. Who exactly are you, pretty boy?

“Didja see? Didja see?” Insanus had flew, hovered may be the better description, over to her and landed on her shoulder.

“I think you were imagining things.”

“I’m a droid! I don’t imagine! There was something there, I tell you! Eyes, eyes, eyes! They were there, glowing, eyes, eyes, eyes! You must’ve seen them!

And then the droid turned and pecked her cheek. The annoyance Tesa felt before bloomed into a violent aggravation. She plucked the droid from her shoulder, turned, lifted a long knife (facing down and one in a long row), bundled the droid into the small area behind on the shelf, and slid the knife back down, trapping it behind the row of blades. “YOU, BIRD, are certainly getting on my nerves. You can just stay there until I say further!”

“Jailed!” Insanus wailed as Tesa turned sharply away and flew back behind the corner. She snatched up her bottled water, reopened it, and took another drink.

“There’s a fool who the local rulers have begun to suspect as a traitor. Little mister fox is getting under the local wolves’ skin, being a little tick. He’s not alone, though; he has a couple of biting guard dogs that protect him.” She pantomimed with her hand a dog with teeth snapping his jaws. “It’s rumored that the fox is consorting with the other gang across the way. Likely become a spy of sorts for them. Only been a couple of incidents that have resulted in injuries – fatal or otherwise, the local wolves won’t say and there’s nothing to suggest it was Mister Fox and his barkers. At night, dogs like the bars and the fox generally stays in an apartment. Daytime, he is at home, in the base or meeting at the trinket shop, and with the butt-munching dogs.

“Tilfon’s Apartments, few blocks from here. Bar’s across the way from that. Trinket merchant, who is suspect too, couple blocks from here, the other way. They sway and speak like the local rulers. Reward’s waitin’.” Tesa smiled, sitting back on her stool, sipping the water. “Run, little kitty-cat.”

[Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice*]

"I beg your pardon!" The annoying bird chirped, seeming about to throw a fit. The woman replied with the slightest crack of a smile and placing her water down, extending her hand to the bird and tracing her fingers against the metallic exterior in a soothing pet and a quick, "There, there, Sane, No reason to get worked up."

The droid merely looked up in an aggravated fashion, chirping out once more, "“What do you expect me to do? Coo?” This brought a raised eye-brow from Graffion, who turned his head slightly to watch the amusement. As he did so the womans attitude changed very slightly, very briefly, but enough for Graffion to pick out. He watched carefully as she casually grabbed up the data-pad and look through, likely to find his contract. He did wonder what was with the slip-up, until now she had been fairly straight forward, but he allowed it to slowly sink back.

Graffion got a slight tingle up his spine, a vague feeling of suspicion. As though something was watching him. He had his own sixth sense, one with nothing to do with the force, but a sheer wall of preparedness and paranoia brought about from years of caution and man-hunting. And right now that sense kicked in. He didn't act on it though, if his gut had told him danger, he would have, but so far nothing. He just seemed to deflate a tiny bit and his leg muscles tensed, ready to spring him over that counter, or drop beneath it ( pending on where any sortof attack came from ) in the blink of an eye. Maybe that's why she had changed attitude as well.

For Graffion, it was another clue. While many fences were paranoid and cautious, they didn't have a warriors sense. Graffion lazily let his eyes trail about the room, looking around behind the counter as Tesa searched the datapad. He did find something interesting too, but he didn't have any chance to think about it or really identify it before the bird began to chirp incessantly. "Eyes!" it panicked, repeating the word annoyingly. Graffion didn't like panic.

Tesa looked up curiously at the bird with a Huh? Graffion stared at him for just a moment before turning his attention back to Tesa. She swiped the data-pad to code the information with a single flick of her hand, and then stepped around the corner, moving toward the window. Graffion closed his right eye and turned his heat vision on as he turned around, getting a survey of the window. On the way, he also saw Tesa, seeing the glow of red interupted in a single area by a knife along the side her calf, or something that largely looked like it could be one.

And behind her, at the window, he did indeed see the top of a head poking out the bottom. He shut off his heat vision and opened his eyes, giving them a scrutinizing gaze, then narrowing his eyes. They promptly slipped away from the window, causing Graffion to grin. He did enjoy people's fear, perhaps a bit too much.

Tesa's little bird droid flew over and began to annoy her. She promptly decided she'd had enough, returning back around the counter and 'jailing' it in. Graffion was amused by this as well, he figured the bird deserved it; if not more punishment.

“There’s a fool who the local rulers have begun to suspect as a traitor. Little mister fox is getting under the local wolves’ skin, being a little tick. He’s not alone, though; he has a couple of biting guard dogs that protect him.” She pantomimed with her hand a dog with teeth snapping his jaws. “It’s rumored that the fox is consorting with the other gang across the way. Likely become a spy of sorts for them. Only been a couple of incidents that have resulted in injuries – fatal or otherwise, the local wolves won’t say and there’s nothing to suggest it was Mister Fox and his barkers. At night, dogs like the bars and the fox generally stays in an apartment. Daytime, he is at home, in the base or meeting at the trinket shop, and with the butt-munching dogs.

“Tilfon’s Apartments, few blocks from here. Bar’s across the way from that. Trinket merchant, who is suspect too, couple blocks from here, the other way. They sway and speak like the local rulers. Reward’s waitin’.” She leaned back on her stool and took a sip of her water, quite obnoxiously, and then rubbed it in by saying, "Run, little kitty-cat."

Graffion absorbed the information for a moment, and then began to turn as if to leave, but he quickly whipped back around, his hand having dipped into his cloak while she was turned and whipping out a blaster pistol from an inside pocket, pointing it right at her, "I'm not a kitty," he said with a wide grin, "And your not a fence. So, did you kill him, and why?"

[Squee]

As the man turned away, Tesa felt a wave of satisfaction and relished in her belief that she had done her job well. She had never played the role of a fence, and therefore wasn’t exactly sure how a fence acted. If the blonde man was turning away, if means she had been convincing. With the satisfaction was a feeling of relief. She could get away yet again. She was quite proud of herself.

Those smug and ego-petting feelings lasted about two seconds. As the blonde man turned away, electricity fired in the Force. A hot flash raced through her body and the electric current fused with her instinct. The melding took less than a second and everything screamed to DUCK. Tesa’s body pitched forward with her hand stretching to grasp the counter in order to break her fall. Suspicious the act was now but Tesa didn’t curse herself. The Force had alerted her to an impending danger, and there was no way Tesa was going to shot, stabbed, or any sort of maimed in any way, shape, or form. It just wasn’t going to happen.

As her hip made contact with the ground Tesa thrust her legs to the side to not be bundled against the counter. She went too fast, too hard. Her heel connected with one of the legs of the stool, shoving the bottom of the stool backward. Now, the head (the seat part) of the stool was much heavier. So as the feet went backward, the head fell forward. Tesa saw it coming, as everything had suddenly shifted to a quarter of its speed, but couldn’t move that fast to shift her leg out of the way. As the heavy seat cracked down onto her knee, she had a brief moment’s thought of I can’t believe I just did that, before the pain striped sharply up her leg. That lance of pain was followed by a loud howl.

“Son of a…” Tesa was in such pain she couldn’t find the right word to say. She only banged a fist against her side of the counter several times. Then she found the word: “WHORE! Ah-a-a-ha! Force DAMN!” Through the white of sudden pain she had a recollection of thought that reminded her she still had a blonde man around the other side of the counter. She reached up her hand, raising it over the counter top and wiggled fingers. Swear to the stars, he shoots my hand, I’m making his guts explode from the inside out.

The hand flattened against the countertop and its twin came over the edge, fingers curling around the corner. Tesa pulled herself up, hissing as she had to bend the hurt leg, resting on her good knee and laying arms on the counter, palms toward the man. She wasn’t going to be getting anywhere quickly, and she wasn’t going to be able to do anything to counter him immediately now. Her knee was bothering her, smartly so, too much. Her eyes bore into the man, hot amber, as she battled her pain which was threatening to feed her rage. If push came to shove, Tesa would simply demonstrate her powers and somehow hobble out of the store.

“Cute…” she commented at the blaster pistol. Her mind was turning over and over as she tried to block the throbbing pain from acknowledged territory. Many thoughts passed through, ranging from Ohmahgosh, my kneeeeeeeee, to This guy’s got a brain, and yet another stringed words together to form, There’s hair in my face. She blew at the strand, annoyed, and when it didn’t move, she lifted her hand and brushed it away. At least, she thought, she was making it look like she fell.

“Cute? This is what you get for being over-confident and ill-prepared and falling on your butt. That’s truly embarrassing, did you know? Surprised you haven’t –“

While the bird droid was only adding to the theory that she simply fell, he was also taking a grater and sheering away the thin ice cap over Tesa’s anger. With a vicious snarl, Tesa grabbed the water bottle off of the floor and hurled it at the rack of knives. The bottle rocked the rack and the droid squawked. “Insanus! Shut. Up. I am so fed up with your crap, so keep that fracking trap of yours shut or so help me I’ll melt you to a puddle!

“Okay, so, I’m not a fence.” She shrugged when her attention returned to the man. “But I’m no multi-colored brick wall either, as I think we can both see.” Tesa was shifting her weight and pushing down with her hands, rising up from the floor and balancing on one leg, hissing as she aggravated her knee. “You’re smart, kitty-cat.”

Tesa looked up with a humor tinted expression, including a smirk, after she had stressed the nickname. She wasn’t concerned with the blaster; she’d been in worse positions than just on the wrong side of a weapon. She was rather pissed off, due to multiple variables, but she was also, oddly and very faintly, amused. Apparently, anything and everything she had done wrong had stood out to this guy like a sore thumb. Or a sore knee. He’d been smart enough to consider different options (Who the hell is she working for? Did she kill the real deal? Et cetera, et cetera) and came within reasonable conclusion that she potentially posed a threat. That would explain the blaster pistol aimed at her. Tesa wondered exactly how many would have walked in, taken their contract without worrying about what the “fence” was or doing and simply left.

Too bad there wasn’t enough time to find out.

Tesa leaned over and pressed the button that activated the storage room door. The door slid away with a near silent swoosh and revealed the dead scrawny boy’s body. “Would suck to be cut down by your own weapon, wouldn’t it? The idiot wasn’t promoting the contract I just gave you. We’ve reason to suspect that devil fox is conspiring with the enemy and planning on bringing my authorities down. And we need those men dead in the most silent way. Eliminated from the planet, poof! and never to be seen or heard from again.

“I just needed to make sure that contract got out there. I’m only a temporary replacement.” Tesa pressed the button to close the door and then leaned forward on the counter as she had earlier that day. “Hopefully someone smarter will be the permanent replacement. So… are you going to do the job or no?”

[Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice*]

Graffion turned around to see Tesa's form falling over the counter. There was a few thuds, and then the sharp squeak as the bottom of the stool scraped against ground then fell forward, followed by a tide of pained moaning. Graffion just stood there and stared at the wall, his expression blank at first. Then he blinked, once, twice, cocked his head and raised an eyebrow, Did she just fall? He thought to himself. In his experience, this had never happened to anybody in his life. It was like the definition of an "Oh shit" moment.

To be completely honest, he wasn't sure whether he should just shoot her, or ask if she was Okay. Either way, he was wholly curious as to what...the...hell...had just happened. He actually found himself,( despite the dangers that it could be a ridiculous ploy ) leaning forward and tilting his head to try and get a look. He was so caught off guard that he actually jumped for a moment ( though nobody could see it. ) when a hand suddenly grasped the top of the counter.

And out came Tesa, slowly but surely, rising with a weakened leg and obviously not too happy about her little "oh shit" moment. She seemed to be in a relatively harmless position, her arms against the counter and palms outward toward him; though it was natural for Graffion to still detect deceit within the helpless. However, this was one of the rare cases where instead of getting paranoid suspicious, just stared at her, not really knowing what to say. He looked, for a moment, as though he was going to say something, but then he stopped.

Yep...She fell.He thought to himself.

Her eyes went to his blaster, and in almost a mocking way, she said, "Cute." Graffion's lips finally caved in and a smirk crossed his lips. His eyes slowly went down to hers, and he noticed something that, oddly enough, he hadn't seen before. Her eye color was different than any he'd ever seen. Definitely interesting. And in the back of his head he knew that this woman was different than anything else as well. Somewhere, he his mind made a connection. A connection which was abruptly brought to a halt with the discordant sound of Insanus;

"Cute? This is what you get for being over-confident and ill-prepared and falling on your butt. That's truly embarrassing, did you know? Surprised you haven't---"

A water bottle went flying through the air and slammed into the rack of knives trapping him, rocking his prison. This time Graffion's smile broke out in full, taking his face as a chuckle overtook him. There was a brief moment of silence, and then Tesa turned to him, and he did nothing to hide his smile, "What, this?" He asked, waving the blaster about. He spun the trigger spot over his finger, flipping the gun so that the handle faced Tesa before putting it on the counter, tauntingly between her two arms on the counter. "Just a toy."

"Okay, so I'm not a fence." She seemed casual, "But I'm no multi-colored brick wall either, as I think we can both see."

Graffion nodded, in his headd thinking, oh, that is to be sure.

"Your smart, kitty-cat."

"Clutz." He murmured in counter attack. Tesa then turned around and opened the back door, revealing the real fence, dead and with a once burning hole in his skull. He could tell it was a blaster, and standard quality at that, by the type of wound in the head, which he could faintly see from his position. A burned hole, not a puncture, and not focused either. Small weapon, short proximity. Possibly point blank due to the nature of the wound. "Would suck to be cut down by your own weapon, wouldn't it? The idiot wasn't promoting that contract I just gave you. We've reason to suspect that devil fox is conspiring with the enemy and planning on bringing my authorities down."

Liar. He thought, figuring that the first half of the explanation was quite possibly true, it wasn't unheard of. But she likely just wanted an excuse to kill him. The second half seemed a bit too...Composed.

"And we need those men dead in the most silent way. Eliminated from the planet, poof! and never to be seen or heard from again. I just needed to make sure that contract got out there." There was the believable part, and only strengthened his suspicions that she'd killed him just for fun, because she used the term, 'just' as if diminishing her task and making it seem like her crime was no big deal, as well she'd called him an idiot, in a dirty tone that suggested personal offense, this point further strengthened by 'more than a multi-colored brick wall.' "I'm only a temporary replacement. Hopefully someone smarter will be the permanent replacement. So...are you going to do the job or no?"

And there was her escape. She'd made him feel safe, and now she wanted out. She didn't plan on letting him know just -how- temporary. She probably intended on bolting out of there the moment he left.

"I guess." He said with a sigh, "Though, really I was looking for a bit more of a challenge." He turned around and started to leave, but stopped once again, turning his head so that he stared over his shoulders back at her, "I do admit, you lie pretty swiftly." He said, "I suppose proper good-byes are in order, since I'll probably never see you again." He turned around, and started to bow.

Then somebody tried to open the door, and he froze in mid-bow as they fumbled with the lock. Graffion went upright and turned to face the door, his heat vision on. It allowed him to slightly see through the front door, seeing various figures on the other side, one holding a big weapon. There was a loud bang as a shotgun was fired, taking the lock mechanism. Then, four thugs walked in through the door. Graffion turned his heatvision off and just narrowed his remaining eye, while zooming the other eye in to get a good damn look at their smug expressions.

The first one, a man walking with his shotgun pointed right at Graffion, kept walking, headed right toward Graffion. "Just get outta my way, pretty boy, we're not here to deal with you. We just want the damn fence."

He got within a yard of Graffion. His face contorted into a snarl, and he moved forward quickly, pushing the shotgun's barrel aside and up to the ceiling. The man fired, the shot hitting a light and taking it out, along with several chunks of the ceiling. Graffion's other hand reached forward punched the guys adams apple hard into his throat, then pulled back and grabbed the mans wrist and removing the weapon. "Nope." Graffion said to the others, who all stopped, watching as their leader fell to his knee's, clutching at his throat.

Graffion placed the shotgun on the counter behind him, and cocked his head, reaching behind him. The thugs before him started to raise their weapon as well, but swiftly and without hesitation Graffion reached behind himself and drew his wookie-bowcaster from his back, holding the stock against his shoulder and the tip lazily aimed at them. They all stopped immediately, frozen in fear of the devastating power of that weapon, none of them wanting to be the first to go. "Your here to deal with me." Graffion hissed. [ Lol, like a black cat. ]

Beneath him, the man was choking on himself, falling to his chest and desperately crawling forward, not really like it would help him, but still moving forth, as if heading for some miracle cure. Graffion slowly tilted the weapon downward, to point at the floor, "I suggest you mean just leave. This is your only chance." Beneath his weapon, the first man struggled forward, accidentally putting himself right in the firing range...

And Graffion casually pulled the trigger, without blinking or looking down at the carnage of the body beneath him, which was rent almost in two as the powerful bolt slammed into his back, ripping the spinal system apart and killing him instantly, throwing blood and causing the entire body to jerk in excellent, spasmodic violence. Oh, how Graffion relished in it. Fun times.

The three other thugs stood there for a moment, and then realized that Graffion's gun was no longer loaded.

Graffion exploded into motion the same time that they did, immediately stepping to the left, and then diving forward, swinging his bow-caster and striking one of the heads hard into a twi'lek's stomach, causing him to drop his gun, which Graffion promptly kicked away before it had even landed on the ground.

Before the others could even react, Graffion drove his knee straight into the Twi'leks stomach, winding him, and then reached to one of his lekka's, yanking it hard enough to force the alien to fall down on his side. Graffion, still holding his bowcaster, wasted no time in throwing it as hard as he could at the middle person, another man who'd raised his blaster pistol right at Graffion's face. The man stumbled back.

Now, Graffion was in a weapons shop, which was almost the ideal setting for him to fight in. He reached over to a wrack and found a box, possibly filled with delicate weapons, that was clamped shut and with a large chain around the end. Speedily, he whipped out his second blaster pistol, and placed it against the chain, firing twice, breaking the chain.

Grabbing the length of the chain, he spun and dove to the right, dodging the blaster fire from the human. The last guy, a Trandoshan, was reaching for a sword on his belt, yanking it out. Graffion chose the human first, stepping forward and whipping the chain out in front of him, striking the human hard in the face, causing him to flinch hard. Then Graffion threw the chain again, this time allowing it to wrap hard around the mans neck. Graffion yanked on the chain, hard, bringing the guy down with a loud crack, presumably breaking his neck.

Three down, one to go.

As the Trando licked his lip and readied his long-sword, Graffion lifted a finger before him as if to pause, then struck a pensive posture. He then seemed as if he'd figured out what he wanted, reaching into his cloak and grabbing, along hi belt, a holster pipe. A long, lead pipe. A grin spread across his face, and he smirked.

Behind him, though he didn't know, the Twi'lek had risen, and he was pissed off. He reached into his back and pulled out a knife, rearing it back as though he would throw it at Graffion's back.

[Squee]

“What this? Just a toy.”

Indeed… Tesa had hardly given the blaster a glance. A cute toy.

And when he had called her a clutz, he only got a smoldering eye in return. She was already pissed at her act. When he had turned around with that blaster, she had had every intention of ducking and leaving via the back of the storage room, escaping and getting out by following the back alley. Once there, she could have found a moment to done her cloak and become part of the buildings and shadows. The man was merely a bounty hunter with half of a brain (so most assassins are), since he had been able to peer through her and call out her bluff. Tesa hadn’t really a worry that if she could get out of his sight, and out of any of his toys’ sights, she could lose him.

That Force damned stool! That moment could cost her much if she couldn’t wiggle her way out of this position. She would have to go to another place in Nar Shaddaa, stake it out for a week to learn the local news, and then usurp another fence for his contracting throne. She’d have to create another whole story. Then she would have to sit and wait for another blonde man to come open her water bottles. That moment of absolute poor luck could make her have to fight back, if it came down to the man attacking her. She’d have to commandeer the Force and manipulate everything just to escape. And she did not want to go through all that work again.

Then again, how would it have worked out if it had not looked like she had simply fallen? Well, she would have been running from the blonde man, but likely have gotten away without having to tap into her power reservoir. That meant she could still remain somewhat local, but she’d have to avoid the man who stood before her.

So, this stool thing was a curse or a blessing depending on whether or not her lie passed by the man.

And by the time that thought had caught up to her, Tesa had completed her lie. Her hands were clasped before her as she leaned heavily on the counter, the fingers laced. Focus on the body, Tesa. The other person can see that and feel any tension if you are rigid and tense. But remember that too loose in some other circumstances can be just as being too tense in others. Judge it and discipline the body. On their own accord, the laced fingers were squeezed lightly against each other, which was something Tesa deemed fine. She had just had a blaster pulled on her, after all, and it kind of seemed like a habit. She neutralized anything overly tense, from the way her shoulders were hunched near her neck to the relaxation of muscle in her legs, in a slow, easy fashion so it wasn’t obvious.

"I guess. Though, really I was looking for a bit more of a challenge."

There was that feeling again as he turned away yet again. Tesa felt she had once again accomplished tricking yet another oblivious person, and the relief and pride was starting to swell again. Then she caught herself and swiped away the sluggishly creeping smirk away. Last time that had happened, it had been crushed and a stool fell on her knee. What if he …

"I do admit, you lie pretty swiftly. I suppose proper good-byes are in order, since I'll probably never see you again."

There! THERE! He’d done it again! Tesa felt a sudden wave of shock, despite the last minute preparation that he could toss another grenade into her plan. She struggled and grappled with that shock to keep it from bubbling onto the surface. She didn’t want it to leak through. Keep composure! And while the horror that he had realized yet another bluff settled in, so did the anger. How did he? And how dared he! What had he noticed that had set off his lie detector? She wanted to snarl and lunge over the counter. She wanted to pull his hair and assault his mind, tear at it while picking through the pieces to know how so it would never happen again! She would conform to the knowledge and fool people like him every day. Her ribcage heated with anger and was quickly spreading; stringy tendrils of hot fiber starting to thread with that of her nervous system. The warnings of the threat chimed, saying if she didn’t stop feeding it, she would be consumed by it.

Two words halted its progress, freezing the tips of the tendrils and forcing them to retreat with a squeal.

Black cat.

Tesa blinked and forced her fingers to release the edge of the counter, which she had started to grip. The anger was gone so fast that Tesa giggled. Dear Mr. Kitty-Cat…While you still have a test to complete, I think you’ll be seeing more of me than you know. “I would like to object to that. How else will you get paid?” There was a wicked grin to couple the knowing gleam in her gaze. Then the Force tapped on her shoulder once again. Someone’s near. No… someones are coming.

Not a moment later there was a small rattle at the door. With the door locked, of course whoever wanted in couldn’t get in. That’s what a shotgun was for. As a loud bang shook the door and part of the wall, Tesa whispered a small, “Oh my.” The door lock was busted and with a large nudge, the door swung open. In sidled four sentient beings and Tesa felt goosebumps form on her flesh as the air spiced with intended disaster. Tesa reigned in her invisible net and tucked in her power just beneath skin surface while eyeing the strangers warily, testing her aching knee.

“Tesa, may I recommend—“

“Shhhhh…” she hushed gently, stretching a hand toward Insanus. The thug with the shotgun had advanced, stating what he and his buddies were here after.

"Just get outta my way, pretty boy, we're not here to deal with you. We just want the damn fence."

He stole one of my nicknames for the blonde man!

Apparently Mr. Kitty-cat had taken offense to the thug’s comment as well. As the thug came within a couple of feet from him, he’d advanced and shoved the shotgun’s barrel to the ceiling. As it went off, Tesa couldn’t help but jump and yelp, truly startled by the shot. She sunk down behind the counter in the new darkness, like the good, little, defenseless fence she was supposed to be. All she caught next were the folds of the cloak around the blonde man’s arm fly, and then the freshly disarmed thug was choking.

"Nope.” The shotgun was rested in front of her, blocking a good half of her eyesight over the counter. Slightly annoyed, Tesa shuffled to the side to get a better diagonal view, and as a last whim grabbed the shotgun. She unloaded the weapon and then pushed it against the wall, setting the remaining slugs as far back as the shelf in the counter would allow. When she looked up again, her eyes widened, genuinely surprised to see that Kitty-Cat was lifting a wookiee bowcaster and she stifled a giggle at the faces of the thugs.

“Your here to deal with me.

Tesa’s eyes, the only thing that could be seen spying from over the countertop besides the tips of her fingers, shifted toward the back of Mr. Kitty-Cat’s head, her eyebrow raised with obvious question. Now why would he go on and do such a thing? Why didn’t he just side step, sweep his arms in a grand show and say “there she is! Have at her!”? Why go through the trouble? There couldn’t be much he might like her well enough for.

Maybe he just wanted a fight? That was fine with Tesa. She wanted to watch a good fight. She righted her stool and sat up onto it. She crossed her arms and grinned mockingly at the thugs, waiting for something else to happen other than Kitty’s boring attempt to tell the thugs off. She got her wish when the man on the floor, for whatever reason was wiggling forward like a dying fish, crawled too close to Kitty-Cat. She watched as the bowcaster discharged and the bolt tore through the crawling man’s back easily. Another masked giggle but she failed at hiding her grin at the results.

Kitty, your weapon is empty. And the others seem to realize it too as they brought their weapons to bear. Tesa watched in morbid humor as everything exploded into a flurry, concentrating a moment as Kitty’s hair flew gorgeously through the air. The next thing she noticed was a twi’lek being yanked viciously to the side by his lekku. Ouch. The wookiee bowcaster was pitched into a man, sending him staggering. Then his neck snapped with a gruesome noise that had been preceded by a chain rattling. A Trandoshan character had managed to draw a sword, in which Kitty only responded by holding up a finger. Tesa couldn’t believe it and covered her mouth to smother a laugh as Kitty played around by acting like he was thinking.

“I’m not quite sure what you find so funny.”

Tesa was off of her stool now, calmly walked to where she had imprisoned Insanus. “Oh, don’t worry about it.” She lifted a knife and took Insanus, placing him on the counter. “If you can figure it out, I’ll give you a cracker.” She found the deactivation switch and triggered it, shutting Insanus down for the next few minutes, whispering to herself: “Sorry, Sane, I’ve got business to attend to, and I can’t have you going on about the Force when I do.”

Tesa turned; ready to deal with an unconscious twi’lek to discover answers to some of her questions. When she saw the alien rising from the ground, she scowled. It was so much easier to deal with an unconscious person: they didn’t writhe or scream in case you messed up entering their mind. She was going to have to be extra careful. If she screwed up before she found what she wanted and he shrieked, she’d have to kill him. Oh well, she simply couldn’t have everything she wanted today.

The twi’lek had found his footing. As he drew up, his hand snaked around his back. Tesa felt a snarl twist her face as he withdrew a knife and adjusted it in his hand, angry expression turned toward the blonde man. A quick glance at ensuing sword and lead pipe fight assured Tesa that the blonde man was too busy to notice the sneaky twi’lek. And if he was too busy with that, he’d be too busy to notice what she was about to do. She tossed the unfamiliar knife on the counter and she lifted a hand toward the twi’lek, snagging his arm with the Force, holding it still as she unsheathed the knife from her calf. Ignoring any pain in her knee, Tesa quickly took the few soft steps behind the bewildered twi’lek, grasping his lekku and wrapping her arm up under his armpit. Her knife touched against the soft flesh of his chin, angled downward toward his neck.

“Sh…” she said softly, almost soothingly, close to the twi’lek’s ear. “Sh, sh, sh… just relax.” From this position, there wasn’t much he could do. If he collapsed his armpit or dropped his chin, the knife would bite into his neck. If he so much as twitched in a displeasing fashion, Tesa would cut his throat out. It wasn’t ideal. Her hand let go of the lekku and rested onto his forehead, pushing his head back almost to her shoulder. She guided him back a couple of steps, eyeing the fight in front of her with caution. “Shouldn’t take long. How about we set the knife down?” She extended cool, slithering tentacles made from the Force and caressed the alien’s mind gently, influencing her soft command by injecting a compelling feeling into his mind. Carefully his shoulder twisted, and his elbow extended to place the knife on a shelf without upsetting the knife at his neck.

Tesa’s eyes half closed as she attached the tentacles to his mind, diving in, and began to delicately weave a web of control. She didn’t have time to search his mind. She was simply going to have stick herself there and close a grip around his memory and force him into accessing it by flooding his mind with those memories. He wiggled a little as she asserted herself, which she quickly stopped by pulsing out a wave of calmness.

“Who is he?” she whispered.

“You don’t know? Graffion. Graffion Maruhuey.”

Tesa smiled to herself. “He’s excellent.”

“One of the best. Where have you been? Under a rock?”

“Watch your manners,” Tesa replied, pressing the knife a bit into his neck. As she watched the fight through half closed eyes, she figured she might have a little time. “And just keep still.” She closed her eyes, squeezing her grip around his memories and sank into them. Adrenaline rose into her body as she searched for anything related to Graffion Maruhuey in the twi’lek’s mind.

From the outside, she took in a sharp breath, taking the information from his mind and bringing it to herself. Basics, crude information, but information none the less. Names, places, suspicions. Her viselike grip on his memory slowly began to diminish to prevent the shock of the telepathic invasion. Her eyes opened and adjusted to her surroundings again, light slowly filtering in.

Did anyone notice? It was the first question. If Graffion had finished and had turned, the knife was going to puncture deep within the twi’lek’s neck. If not, she was simply going to shift her tentacles and enter the consciousness controls of his brain and flip with swift. Her hand already trembled, nicking the twi’lek’s neck some but he seemed to be in a bit of a daze. There was a rage in her own mind and she had to push the new ideas about Graffion Maruhuey back in order to concentrate on the task at hand. It had been but a short time in the alien’s mind, but it felt much longer to Tesa, which had her off course.

The twi’lek’s life depended on whether or not the assassin was turning or turned around.

[Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice*]

Graffion watched as the Trandoshan brandished a single long sword before him, holding it out with both hands, the cross-guard at belly height, the blade extended and slightly tilted diagonally. His own lead pipe rested against his right shoulder and his left hand against his hip. He blew the blonde hair away from his face and glared down the Trando with both eyes, a demeaning smirk crossing his eyes. "Typical swordman's stance won't help you in this death dance." He proclaimed.
　
With that he took a great step forward and with both hands along the pipe he took a side-long swipe at the Trando, but he responded too quickly, moving the sword quickly in place to block the pipe. There was a loud metallic clang, followed quickly by another as Graffion reversed direction the brought the pipe around, going for another side-long swipe from the other side of the Trandoshan. Another quick flick and the Trando brought his blade to bear. Graffion began to swing gradually faster at the Trando, changing directions, occaissionally doing an underhand or over-head swing. Each time the Trandoshan blocked, until Graffion was swinging with a speed and fury that the Trando couldn't match.
　
So the Trando stepped into the last attack, letting the pipe slide up to the guard, and then trying to overpower Graffion. Graffion, as the pipe slid down to the guard, hopped to the side, and the Trando lost momentum for a moment, stumbling slightly forward. Swiftly Graffion was behind him, the pipe still grating against the guard. He put one hand on either side of the pipe and pulled it in, pinning the blade against the trandoshan's chest and body, and bringing the pipe up toward his neck as though to choke the Trando. He was focused only on the Trando. For a moment they both began to turn toward Tesa's direction, but the Trando fought back.
　
They turned away from Tesa. Graffion let go of the pipe and grabbed the Trando's wrists, squeezing powerfully. He found a pressure point on the wrist and pressed his thumb into it, twisting the Trando's arms around and forcing him to drop the sword. Then Graffion turned him and shoved him straight toward a wall. While the Trando stumbled and hit the wall, Graffion reached down and grabbed his lead pipe and turned toward the Trando. The tough thing had already turned and was grabbing a weapon off of the wall ( afterall, this was a weapon's shop. )
　
Graffion responded by rearing his hand and simply chucking the pipe at him, hitting the Trandoshan right in the back, hard. So hard, that the pipe broke. Over his scaled back. Graffion did a mock cringe and said, "Oooh, that's gotta hurt." And then he looked down upon the image of his broken lead pipe. His head cocked to the side and his eyebrows perked up for a moment, the image not sitting well upon his mind.

And thoughts of that pipe, one which he'd carried with him for a very long time now, gotten many kills with, and finally it had taken enough abuse. Images of his father soon followed, his father who he'd grown up with on the lead mine. Who he'd killed with that very pipe after the years of abuse had whittled him away as well. It seemed ironically symbolic, but Graffion did not dwell too much on it, he hated those thoughts. Those thoughts just turned to frustration.

The Trandoshan, very angry, turned around and growled at Graffion. Graffion returned his head to a normal position, narrowing his eyes and staring right at him, "I killed my father with that." He growled back.

The Trandoshan, apparently done with Graffion's games, went forward, seeing he was unarmed and tried to use the strength of his species to kill Graffion. Graffion reacted quickly, pushing the two groping arms wide by the forearms, and then shoving his knee forward, right into the gut of the lizard humanoid. Before it could recover, Graffion's strong left hand clamped around the things neck.

Graffion's muscles flexed, his arms bulging out quite obviously, showing the tremendous strength he'd honed over the years. And he -lifted- the Trandoshan up by the throat, the weight causing tremendous strain. The Trandoshan punched and kicked, landing several solid blows, but Graffion just lifted his free arm to protect his face ( can't put an ugly bruise on that pretty face can we? ) and took the hits stoically.

And then he stopped struggling, his breath gone. He was unconscious and then dying slowly, gurgling out for breath that Graffion would not let him have. Eventually, he didn't even to that. The cold blooded creature faded from life. A familiar sight for Graffion. A wide smirk of pleasure crossed his face and he tossed the dead body to the side, listening to the loud thud and crunch with a sickening satisfaction.

"And that," he said, turning on heel to Tesa, "Is that." She stood above the unconscious form of the Twi'lek body, which had since moved. A shock to Graffion, the pulling of the Lekku was often a strong enough shock to immobilize them for a while. "Oh, did I miss one?" He asked innocently, a smug smirk crossing his face, "Whoopsie Daisy."

[Squee]

When Tesa’s sight and brain caught up with her, she was able to recognize the fight was still going on. Graffion had his weapon, a lead pipe of all things for planet’s sake, pinning the lizard’s sword against its own chest. Well, that was certainly awkward. She had time to keep the twi’lek alive. Her blurry eyesight cleared further, focusing to notice better that Graffion had a hold of the
Trandoshan’s wrists and the sword and clattering away.

The twi’lek groaned and his head lolled to the side to partially rest on hers. At least she had brought the knife away from his neck. He would have cut himself moving his head around like that. There was an ache in her bicep where she was holding up half the twi’lek’s weight. The hand on his forehead dropped and slithered under his other arm, supporting him more. The hand with the knife flattened below the humanoid’s collar bone, the blade’s smooth side against him. Tesa breathed, careful, suppressing a grunt of effort.

Out of her peripheral vision, she saw his dark eye open. Some weight lifted. Tesa felt a brief surge of panic before she opened her mouth:

“Sh… Relax. You’ll be fine,” she whispered, almost motherly. He was dazed. His mind buzzed with confusion. The memory invasion had taken its toll, just as Tesa knew it would. The motherly tone calmed down some of the confusion, and the twi’lek was quickly convinced that he was in good hands.

There was a sharp crack in the weapon shop.

Without wasting time, Tesa closed her eyes, inkling her forehead against the twi’lek’s, and once again concentrated on her tentacles. At her wish, they detached from the temporal section of his brain and wiggled toward his hindbrain, grasping the pons. With little effort, due to the status of her victim, Tesa maneuvered in and simply, more or less, flipped the switch to interrupt the flow in his consciousness. On the outside, the twi’lek’s eyes rolled and he slumped. Tesa retracted immediately, and she held the slumped body in her arms with a brief stumble. She fought hard to keep upright, driving every bit of her thinking into remaining stood until she could see clearly. This time, it didn’t take quiet as long for the blurriness to pass and Tesa was stepping back with the body. Quickly, but gingerly, she laid the body on the ground, resting his head against the ground with much care.

Then she fell onto her hindquarters from her crouch. She allowed herself to pant and attempt to control her tremulous fingers. It had been far too long. Tesa knew every which way to not make a severe mistake in the mind, but lack of constant practice left her extremely stressed. She was stretched and felt like she had just materialized into a different dimension. Her knife was on the floor beside her. Tesa didn’t trust herself to sheathe it.

Breathe…

Of course. She inhaled, deep and filling, counted to two, and then lengthened her exhale. Her gaze meandered over to where Graffion was. What was presented to her was rather unsettling. The first thing she noticed was the broken pipe. Uh-oh. Above that, there were flailing limbs. Feet were off the ground. Except, they weren’t Graffion’s feet.

Holy hell. He’s got to have wookiee blood in him somewhere. The event was simply mind boggling, which, in this moment, was the last thing Tesa needed it to be. The information from her memory search was forthright. She would have to commit it to long term memory shortly, or she’d forget about it. Still, the new image of this Graffion Maruhuey holding the Trandoshan by the neck and off the ground was going to be a fresh print for a while.

Either you made a really good choice or a really bad mistake. The Trandoshan’s pointless striking was beginning to cease. Tesa finished another exhale and shut her eyes, hearing only the sounds of the choking lizard-man. Gruesome. What a terrible way to die. She swallowed. Suffocation had made it into the top three ways Tesa didn’t want to die. It was right up there with drowning and passing on in her sleep.

Insanus! He needed to be activated again! Or she’d have to spin another lie. There had already been plenty today and Graffion seemed to be capable of picking out lies. Tesa’s head turned and her eyes flashed open. She moved her hand behind the shelter of her leg, twitching her steadying fingers in Sane’s direction. Reaching with the Force, she flipped his switch on. His red eyes brightened to life and the droid gave a stagger.

“What—“ He must’ve noticed she wasn’t near for the incoming scolding. His metallic wings rose and he lifted into the air. Moments later, he landed beside Tesa. “Dear me, are you all right? Did you engage in a strenuous activity? You’re shaken! Or were you frightened? Okay, maybe not frightened. Is there anything I can do?”

Tesa glowered at her droid. “What’re you gonna do? Sing to me?”

The thud and sickening crunch alerted her back to Graffion. That had to be the body hitting the ground.

"And that, is that. Oh, did I miss one? Whoopsie Daisy."

Was this guy for real? Whoopsie daisy?

“Yes, you kind of did.” Tesa stretched her toe out to nudge it against the twi’lek’s limp arm. With a sigh, Tesa rocked forward, gathering her legs under her, and stood up straight. “And this is a disturbance that says I need to leave and return to my boss. I don’t fancy being killed.” She had pivoted and gone over to the counter. Leaning over just to reach her arm around, she snagged her bag off the first shelf and slung it over her shoulder. On her way to the knife rack where Tesa had imprisoned Insanus, she plucked up her new datapad and then scooped her water bottle off of the floor. Walking back to Graffion, she unscrewed the cap and took a quick drink.

“Do you know Junge’s diner? Never mind. If you don’t, just scare someone out of the location. It has a bar in it as well. I’ll be hanging around there in… a little bit. Come back to me when you’ve done your job. I’ll pay you then.” Tesa met Graffion’s natural eye. “We have an understanding?”

Insanus had hovered over and attached himself to her shoulder. Good bird-droid.

[Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice*]

Graffion approached Tesa, looking from bird to woman, woman to bird. Obviously one of these two were capable in some way, seeing as though the Twi'lek had been put down after getting back up. And obviously it wasn't the bird. He bowed toward Tesa, listening to her statements. He did indeed plan to do the job and meet her at this, “Junge's Diner.”

Wherever the hell that was.

He came out of his bow and smirked, “We do have an understanding. I thank you, miss. For rescuing me from that thug. I shall pay more attention in the future, instead of relying on partners and luck, I find the prospect of relying too much on others rather...Distasteful. And, if these...Thugs, give you anymore trouble...” He looked up at the ceiling in contemplation, “Just...Tell me after the job is done. And I'll kill them all. Pro-bono.” He chuckled at the last statement, amazed he was even saying it.

Why the hell was he saying it? She was just some weird woman posing as a fence. But something about her just caught his attention, and now his mind wouldn't stop thinking about her. He gave a silent shrug, then turned to her once again. “Now, you be at Junge's Diner.” He told her, a devilish grin curving up his lips, “Or I'll just start killing my way through Nar Shaddaa until I find you...And believe me, I'll get pretty far along the way too.” Enthusiasm managed to seethe from his words, the very prospect somehow thrilling him, a gleam coming into his eye.

With that he reached down and scooped up his Wookie-bowcaster, on the floor not far from the human who he'd pitched into the face of. He rotated it in his grasp a few times, checking the quality. There was a small chip at the very end of one fin where it had hit the ground. Other than that, all of the mechanisms were in place and it remained undamaged and fully useful. He quickly placed another bolt into the mechanism and used his immense muscle power to pull back the trip, the bowcaster ready to fire once more. This particular one was built with a safety as well, which he turned on immediately before reaching behind his cloak and fitting it neatly back onto its holster. Afterall, he didn't want it to go off and accidentally cause his pretty little blond head to explode, did he?

Before taking steps toward the exit he cocked his head, and turned slightly, viewing her with his mechanical eye, “You may want to use the back exit.”

With that he took off, walking to the door, which was already open, and with a slight whistle he walked right on out to the streets of Nar Shaddaa, his hood down and identity obvious.

[Squee]

“We do have an understanding.”

“Good,” Tesa said, interrupting Graffion. She went to exit, but he continued to talk. He thanked her for taking out the twi’lek. Tesa felt her flesh bristle slightly at the gratitude, unused to such words from somebody. She twisted just enough for her eyes to peer over her shoulder, a quip departing from her lips: “Aww… aren’t you sweet? You’re welcome and I’ll let you know if I have issues.” That was about as great of thanks Graffion was going to get from her. The ‘you’re welcome’ made her tongue feel heavy and thick. Her skin felt alienated. She wasn’t walking a path she was familiar with, and she therefore felt positively out of her league.

Which she was. Go figure.

She thought Insanus was also staring at her like he couldn’t believe what she had said either. At least she wasn’t the only one taking notice.

“Now, you be at Junge's Diner. Or I'll just start killing my way through Nar Shaddaa until I find you...And believe me, I'll get pretty far along the way too.”

A low chuckle rose from Tesa’s chest. She stepped back to bring her face fully toward him, recognizing an excited gleam in Graffion’s one eye. Her grin was wide and all-knowing as he picked up his bowcaster. “You just be there.” She was pausing, not quite sure why, hand resting on her hip. Ah, yes, she was forgetting something. As Graffion spent his time reloading his weapon, Tesa was opening the strings to her bag and withdrawing her cloak. She drew the bag closed by pulling the strings, tossing it over her shoulder and unfolding her cloak.

He’s going out the front, she thought just before he said it. Tesa took a moment to glower at him the question why, but she left it unvoiced. Insanus, oddly quiet, huddled closer to her head as she threw the cloak around her shoulders and pulled up the head. Graffion exited and Tesa vaulted over the counter to slip through the storage door and exiting via the alleyway. She hurried down to the mouth of the alley, peering out to watch the last traces of Graffion Maruhuey vanish around a building.

“You like him. He is an interesting man. Shorter than you, though.”

“Matters not,” she whispered back. Tesa took off, confining herself to as many shadows as possible and taking alley shortcuts. Her mottled gray and black cloak hid her beautifully in the dark atmosphere of Nar Shaddaa. “He’s suitable. He fights well, and he’s got a dark hunger. I need that kind of hunger for my purposes. Besides,” Tesa broke out into a smile. “Who can resist long blonde hair like that?”

“Man-izer.”

Her smile stretched wider. “I just like good looking men.”

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

It was done. Every trap set. Every influence planted. Everyone was riled. Everything was going to come crashing. And she would have the satisfaction of her work soon enough. This time, Graffion wouldn’t be around to ruin that pride. It was an inevitable folding, and it was going to happen gloriously well.

She’d put too much work into it for it to go terribly wrong. Too much manipulation of the sentient brain and toying with people’s feelings. Some of it was done with the Force but much of it was done naturally. It was far too easy to twist the local gangs’ undies into a bunch. It only had to be a little threat delivered to the heart of the gang hive. That little threat was endangering leaders’ power and their money, two things that almost all people found precious and treasured it. They liked to be in control and have their lives lush with the luxuries their money bought. It made some of the most criminal fools in the galaxy.

Her first plan had been to kill the fence loyal to the Boxer gang. From there she would hire an assassin to kill three members also from the Boxer gang and kill the trinket merchant who said he was neutral, but he leaned more on the Blighters gang. Then, excluding the mention of the three former members, take the mission about killing the trinket merchant (an important supplier since he had a smuggling operation in the works) and give it to the Blighters. Of course, she would have charged a price, and she’d have come up with more to make the gangs claw at each other’s throats.

And then part of the Blighters gang showed up to take the Boxer fence. Apparently, when Tesa had gone through the fence’s datapad, there was supposed to be a later assassination assignment to the person high in the Blighter gang hierarchy. By Graffion killing three of the Blighters and Tesa leaving the twi’lek unconscious and the fence’s dead body, a story could be formed off of it - one that worked better and would stir more hatred. The Blighters had come to kill the fence and succeeded. Since they were in Boxer territory, the Blighters had been attacked by the Boxers. Now three Boxer thugs were dead (good thanks to Mr. Maruhuey), and the Blighters take the brunt of the allegation.

Tesa had involved herself well with both gangs, calling herself a freelancer spy and stating that she had information that involved the gangs. She would spy and tell for a price. Both leaders were interested. Tesa covered her tracks by searing a promise into their minds: they would not speak of her, her job, or her purpose as to why she was in base to their second commanders or their people. She made a point to keep herself mysterious and cast a sense of dread about her every time she met up with one of the leaders. They paid handsomely for her services and information, as Tesa knew they would.

For three days she had learned their strategies and run between bases. She’d help stage attacks with the Blighters to take out a supply ship for the Boxers. Then she helped the Boxers eliminate several Blighter mercenaries by telling the former gang where the later variable spent their evenings. A robbery here. A murder there. Tension was thick now, and Tesa truly was expecting the big war to break out today. She had choreographed it that way.

Three days… she was three days late giving Graffion his payment. She had decided to test the assassin. She had uncovered more information about him, from what she could get off the streets and what the gang leaders said. He was a well-known and well-feared figure here. He had an interesting history, with a master named Artemis, also well-known and well-dead. Graffion had killed his master not too long ago, and Tesa now had an adapted respect for the man. He’d proven himself greater than his master by killing him, which was an event in Tesa’s life that even she had yet to fulfill. At least, properly and directly.

Four days ago she had dropped into Junge’s Diner immediately after leaving the weapon’s shop. She’d paid the barkeep to hold a note for Graffion, giving her sincerest apologies for not being able to make it that night and she would pay for anything he ordered. He could meet her the next day at the same time. Tesa had even made accommodations for him in a nearby apartment. She’d done so the second day, and the third, and now there was tonight. He was still in town, this much Tesa knew, but whether he would come yet again tonight was up for debate. If he did, he passed her test. He would be a stable person with ground rules that wouldn’t be shaken or broken on a whim.

She was also curious as to what his expression would be. Angered? Annoyed? Amused? It was a mere interest in how his temperament flexed.

Tesa’s hands cradled a cup of mediocre coffee. Her eyes were closed, her nose over the rim of her mug, seeming to draw in the scent of her drink. Insanus sat on the table with his legs retracted. She was tired. The last two nights had a lack of sleep in them. One was a scheduled job for the Blighter’s gang. The other had been devoted to preventing a single factor from ruining her plan. That person was no longer alive. Tesa had disposed of the body carefully.

Her nose had sunk a little too far down and the edge of the coffee mug burned her upper lip. Tesa opened her eyes and sat back, taking her elbows from the table and instead rested her wrists on the table’s lip. She looked over to Insanus, who rose slowly onto his legs. He looked back at her for a moment, then he thrust his head forward.

“You put your metal beak in, you pull your metal beak out. You do the hokey pokey and turn yourself around. That’s what it’s all about!” he sang as he turned in a circle. Dumbfounded, Tesa merely stared at her avian droid. And then she cracked up, setting her coffee mug on the table so she didn’t spill the hot liquid into her lap. She laughed until her stomach hurt, pinching the bridge of her nose near the corners of her eyes as the tears leaked.

“What?” she finally asked her droid. “Really?”

“Happy to amuse, Ms. Tesa. There needs to be some sort of entertainment while we wait for Mr. Maruhuey’s appearance.”

“Not so loud, Sane,” Tesa warned him, hiccupping a couple of times and wiping her eyes. “Don’t need to scare the entire diner before he arrives. I’d like to keep them calm and then feel the surge when he comes in through the door.” She lifted her mug and sipped at her coffee, keeping one eye trained on Insanus in case he broke out into song and dance again.

[Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice*]

Late. Not just late, but very late. Graffion's countenance entered the room, his cloak tucked neatly to his body, and his hood up for the time being. He stood in the entrance, casually leaning against the wall, silently fuming in his head, "Two days, little miss." He said to himself. He was silently scanning the crowd, checking for the little lady, when around the corner he heard a familiar, annoying voice echoing, though it was hard to hear every word,

“You put your metal beak in, you pull your metal beak out. You do the hokey pokey and turn yourself around. That’s what it’s all about!”

Graffion cocked his head, poking it, hood and all, around a little corner to see Tesa and her familiar bird friend. He boldly flicked the hood off and walked straight in to the open of the diner, moving passed a few tables. At first the people kept eating, and then one or two of them took a double-take and recognized the pretty blonde hair and cocky countenance for what it was, and -it- didn't look too pleased this day either.

One man quickly stood up and 'quietly' slid out of the diner with a sense of urgency. Others simply stared tensely at Graffion, shrinking visibly in their seats, and for those who had collars almost hiding like a turtle into their shirts. Graffion ignored these people, not caring for their cowardice at the time, even to amuse himself. He plopped himself right down in front of Tesa, his body angled sort of to the side to view both her, Insanus, and the rest of the diner.

He propped a forearm acros the table, allowing his fingers to impatiently tap the nails against the table-top in a rather rhythmic pattern. His tongue licked across the front of his teeth and his lip for a moment, letting out a great sigh. His frustration stopped, and he put on a straight face, staring down to his fingers and tapping out a quick melody, to a children's song on his home planet about a man who was late for all of his meetings and appointments and wound up losing his job. Once his tune was finished he looked up at Insanus and asked, "What? No tweet tweet to support my tune?" He didn't even turn to Tesa.

~*~

From behind the doors of the Diner, the waiting staff stared through the double doors at the new customer who'd just sat down. "Dear God." One of the waiters mumbled, "It's -him- again."

"Which one? The noisy Trandoshan or the messy Gammorean?"

The waiter turned and with a sour glance mumbled, "No, the -other- one!"

"Holy Hutt slime, Graffion again? Un-uh, I ain't going out there, you do it!"

"No, I went out last time! You go!"

"What? No, I said -you- go!"

"NO!" Cried the first waiter, shoving the second waiter, a male Devaronian, out the two double-doors, protesting the whole way, but the moment he was pushed through the doors he stood up straight and strode confidently forward. In the back of his head, all he thought was, 'I'm going to die.' But on his face only happy sunshine and politeness shone out. He came up to Graffion's table and nervously said, "H-hello sir!" Silently he screamed at himself for the stutter, "Welcome to Junge's Diner, what would you like to eat, sir?"

Graffion turned to him with one eyebrow raised, "I believe your suppose to ask for my drink, first."

The waiter's face, for a red Devaronian, almost turned pale. He stood up straight, his eyes wide and face appearing as though his entire perception of reality had been completely thrown into a black hole and had come out as some twisted, monstrous thing that he knew nothing about at all. He was half expected the poor fellow to simply explode.

Graffion held up his hand and said, "Let me start you off; Hello sir, welcome to Junge's Diner, what would you like to," He held his hands forward in place of a 'blank' with which to be filled in.

"Drink, sir. What would you like to drink?" He replied.

"I would like your finest wine, please." He told her, "Some sort of White wine, though. I don't much privy the red."

"Yes'r." He said, eagerly running off.

Graffion turned to Insanus, amused, and said, "Yes, sometimes you need to guide them out of their fear just to get them to do their jobs."

[Squee]

Tingles raced down her spine, almost jolting her into shivers. A chill doused her skin, covering her from head top to her toes snuggled into her boots. Her fingertips had been dipped into imaginary cold water. She sucked in her breath and held it, feeling an immediate warmth bloom in her lungs. Everything thawed quickly. Little lizard claws climbed up her spine. Tesa sat up, straightening her back, and took up her coffee mug again. The heat melted her cool hands. The corners of her mouth lifted in the slightest action. She positioned her coffee mug in front of her face, hiding that smile and letting only her eyes gleam from around its rounded edge.

Some people were absolutely frightened.

Tesa had her back toward the entrance of the diner, so she couldn’t see exactly what but she had a hunch. Something familiar was tickling her senses. The smile grew just a little more and changed shape into a smirk, which she kept hidden. There was a small clatter, like someone standing too quickly against the table. She could hear a couple of pairs of feet and the squeak of the door.

But mostly she could feel the fear. It pulsed in several of the sentient minds within the diner. More were beginning to throb, like small fires igniting in a cough of oxygen. She lightly closed her eyes, relishing in this feeling of fear. She directed it into her, letting it fill a cup. Fear was just so delectable. If it was in the form of food, Tesa would eat it every day as a sort of nourishment.
As it were, it was like an invisible drug. She drew it in and analyzed and retained the buzzing emotion. It definitely struck a minor cord of adrenaline. Her heart beat a little harder, but not quicker. More blood slipped through her veins, and she felt very content.

With her eyes closed, she didn’t see, but rather felt as her visitor sat across from her. Her smirk stayed if not grew a tad bigger. Air left loudly through her nostrils as she released a large breath. She reopened her eyes hearing Graffion’s finger drum a steady rhythm on the table deep in her ear. Insanus had once again retracted his legs from view. The droid was turned facing Graffion, who looked positively annoyed. His fingers stopped drumming and he switched, tapping each tip against the top with care. Probably reciting some kind of song in his head and typing out the beat.

Tesa lowered her cup as the blond man asked Insanus about the droid’s lack of song to his tune.

“Will Assassin’s Tango suffice?”

Tesa didn’t giggle and her smile was gone. She lifted and sipped from the cup while her eyes, with their dark circles, studied Graffion. He was making a point not to acknowledge her. Very well; she would remain quiet for the time being. Insanus hadn’t moved and still stared at Graffion. Tesa leaned back off the table and slumped slightly against her seat, closing her eyes again. Oh the fear… Beyond Graffion there were several people who were simply too afraid to get up. The space behind her had cleared out considerably except for those who had no wish to leave their meal just yet. They would brave fear for their hunger. A couple were almost unconcerned. Almost. Or perhaps they were trying to be.

There was, though, turmoil, centered to her left. From within the diner. Tesa listened as she heard doors swing open violently, and a bloom of fear sputtered into a large fire. As she focused on the body, she noticed it was growing closer to her table. With each step, the male’s frightened mind strengthened.

Force damn, she loved the reaction of the patrons and the waiters toward Graffion.

She reopened her eyes again and scanned the assassin before her yet once more. He was so unaware. So naïve. He didn’t know her or her plans or what she could do. She was toying with a well-known murderer. Everyone was afraid except for her. She wasn’t afraid for the simple fact that she could do more than he could, because she commanded the Force to her will. If any of these people in the diner knew Tesa, she was nearly certain they would be more afraid of her than they would be of him.

The waiter had approached the table with a stuttering greeting. Tesa smirked. The devaronian fumbled over his words, to which Graffion caught. She sat up again. Her fingers and thumbs pressed together to form a triangle as she rested her elbows on the tabletop. As Graffion instructed the waiter on the appropriate way to do his job, Tesa continued to think and stare at Graffion.

While Tesa would surely have more fear in the diner if the patrons knew of her, Graffion was their highlighted person for a reason. He had done plenty to be renowned. One did not gain renown by simply being able to pick off a couple of local fools. No, he had done large scale things. He had taken out major people. He had worked with major people. He knew his way around his business and others too, by the way he was lecturing the poor waiter.

He was strong and capable of multi-person combat. He had a morbid sense of humor. He liked his job. That was important. Graffion took a sort of pleasure in running around killing people. He killed people well and in different forms and ways.

He was intelligent, too; not a mindless murder.

He wasn’t smarter than Tesa, though, which was good. Close, but not quite. That was respectable.

Graffion finished his lecture to the waiter. The devaronian was busy scuttling off, back to the relative safety of the kitchen, through the double doors. It was far too easy for the mind to be fooled into security.

"Yes, sometimes you need to guide them out of their fear just to get them to do their jobs."

Tesa’s lower face bloomed into a grin, knowing full well that the comment was not just for the waiter. It was for her, too.

“Maybe if they weren’t afraid in the first place, you wouldn’t have to go through the work of guiding them through their job.”

Tesa reached out with a pointer finger. She pressed it against Insanus’ metallic head until the droid’s body began to tip. He began to scream abuse, “Tesa! Don’t you dare! I cannot get up if you put me on my side! NO! No, no, no, no!” Clunk. “Now you’ve done it. I can’t get up! I’ve got a crisis at my wings tips! Set me right side up—“

Tesa’s hands found the avian droid’s activation switch and flipped it. Instantly, Insanus fell silent and his eyes dimmed. She moved her hand back, dipping it below table level, fiddling with something on her belt. When it rose again, it had in its clutches a bag. She slid the bag across the table, next to Graffion’s arm. Patting that bag twice, she withdrew her hand and then flattened it to the table again. When this lifted, a large credit chip sat on the table, to pay for his wine and his meal should he decide to get one.

A waitress tried to pass by, but Tesa reached out and grabbed her. What little color there was left in the woman’s face drained completely, but she turned and addressed Tesa politely. Tesa picked up her too cool coffee and placed it in the woman’s hand. She held up a finger and then raised her bag from the ground. Tesa withdrew a thermos and also handed it to the waitress, who looked a little surprise.

“Fill it with coffee,” was the four words spoken by Tesa. The traveling bag was snapped closed as the waitress nodded and hurried away. Then Tesa paused to pick up Insanus before swinging her legs into the aisle, though she made no move to get up.

“There’s more in there for the wait.” Tesa pointedly raised her eyes to find Graffion’s one. “Perhaps we’ll meet again, Graffion Maruhuey.” The amber depths flashed knowingly with the smile that suddenly danced its way onto her lips. “In fact…” she leaned onto the table a little more, bringing her slightly closer to the blonde assassin. “I look forward to it.”

She stood up, cradling Insanus against her, and took the two steps to the counter. There she leaned and waited for her coffee to be brought to her.

[Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice*]

Graffion glanced at the bag and the credit chip, his eyes finally focusing on Tesa, and a dark look came upon his face. Unfortuantely for the poor waiter, this is about the same time that he returned with the wine. He froze in front of the table and just stood there, the wine in his hand, Graffion paying him no attention what so ever. The stare ketp for a few seconds until he broke out into a big grin, "Pour the wine." Graffion said, standing up and walking passed the waiter, who visibly deflated.

Graffion leaned against the counter as well, pressing his body into it, "I'm not done with you." He said, authority in his voice, "Politics is quite intriqueing you know. First word gets around that one gang's thugs fought another gang's thugs in a weapons shop, then several of the opposing gang's thugs wind up assassinated." He chuckles, "Who did you say you worked for again? Nevermind, it doesn't matter. The point is; a series of subtle, political strikes have been made." With that he stroked his chin and stared off toward the waiter, who was actually leaning in as if interested in the conversation.

"That's enough wine." Graffion told him. The waiter nodded, "Yes'r!" And was gone.

He leaned in toward Graffion with a subtle whisper, "I talk to people while I wait. I get to know my surroundings so I know the kingdoms. And right now," He leaned back and said, "by some turn of events the two leading gangs in this area are really pissed at each other. Word on the streets cry for blatant bloody battles on boondock buildings. Why, its just so conveniently fun. There's even a nice spot for me in warfare if I play my cards right. I just wish..." He said, with a great sigh, "That I knew who it was that has been powerful enough, cunning enough, or whatever it is, to get this wonderful situation."

In Graffion's head, he knew it had to be her; why else would the sole survivor of his battle days before report that it was another gang and not Graffion Maruhuey? Why else did the very mission *she* sent him on cause high tensions? Why else did it take her days to pay him his money? Because she was a very busy lady. She could hide it from everybody else, but Graffion was, by some rights, in on this whole thing. He was not a fool, either, who would pass this by. He half considered hiring Strae Arhst, a reliable spy, to figure out who this woman is. Because at this point in time, everything she had done, from the moment he met her, was interesting. Exciting, even.

"So I could show them, how much I appreciate them." He stood up straight and began to walk away, his hand reaching up and actually stroking the right side of her face as he got up and left, trailing passed her ear and flipping her hair gently.

He sat down, and took a nice big drink from his cup, an arrogance taking up the way he sat, moved, and even the expression on his face. He was, and knew he was, a very arrogant man. He accepted this, flaunted even, because he knew that without his bravado and arrogance, maybe to the point of humor, he'd be left with only his ruthlessness, intelligence and paranoia. And then he'd just be another assassin; which was not so. He was the best.

[Squee]

"I'm not done with you."

“Well, maybe I’m done with you. Ever thought about that?” she quipped in return, as if to give the I paid you, now leave attitude. She looked at him once through the far corner of her eye. Then her head turned more away from him to watch the waitress fill her thermos. Credits balanced at her finger tips, in plain view, as if to entice the waitress to work faster for it.

"Politics is quite intriqueing you know. First word gets around that one gang's thugs fought another gang's thugs in a weapons shop, then several of the opposing gang's thugs wind up assassinated."

Tesa felt a swell of excitement. To him and to him alone would the rumor about the weapon shop fight be so obviously false. Her head twisted around again, staring at Graffion with a lack of emotion. She controlled her facial features well, staying a grin that wanted to spread like butter from one ear to the other. He sent the eavesdropping waiter away. An intelligent move. If he hadn’t, Tesa would have. She was here for hushed purposes only, and she couldn’t have her face become too well known.

Well, not any better known than the woman who consorted with Graffion Maruhuey. The woman who smiled at him. The woman who back-mouthed him and was not killed because of it.

And as he spoke, she grew even more excited. Yes, yes, he knew. She knew he did, even as he played his words out that he did not. His eye told all. His confident aura simply told all. He wasn’t simply just an assassin who enjoyed his work; he was a well informed assassin. He understood the outcomes of his actions and how they could impact others. While many people like him would only scout out the area of their killing, Graffion made sure he scouted all and listened to the locals. He wasn’t ignorant of what occurred around him but aware. And because of that, he certainly wasn’t going to go down in flames tonight. Nor was he dying tomorrow. Not with his skills and his knowledge.

She had chosen well. Tesa had what she sought after directly before her nose. She wasn’t going to have to trial several assassins. He fit into exactly what she wanted, though he had a little too much fame for her tastes. That, however, was not going to ruin this opportunity.

What a fortunate play in fate. Here was her black cat. Now she just had to make him hers. Make him loyal to her. Wrestling a feline into loyalty was a difficult thing to do, but Tesa knew the trick. Felines had to believe they were choosing their loyalties, when all it really took was a little petting and a little food. Graffion was male. Food, if she knew her males right, would be a strong influence. She just had to make sure that she petted him in the spots where he was itchy. This could be different things: credits, a target, plenty of credits and targets, or just difficult targets. They had to come from her and her alone, though. At least, for a certain length of time. Soon, that finicky loyalty would sway in her direction, and Graffion would be stuck in her web but be unaware and/or unconcerned about it.

“I just wish...That I knew who it was that has been powerful enough, cunning enough, or whatever it is, to get this wonderful situation. So I could show them, how much I appreciate them."

And so he acknowledged her. Pride bloomed in her chest, making her want to puff it out like some kind of bird. She did not. She couldn’t have. Not with the sudden cool weight that suddenly materialized to press down on that pride, to take the heat of that pride and compressed it to shape something else. His fingertips had touched her right cheek. As he walked back, those fingertips brushed long passed her ear, and she felt the movement of her hair. Her first reaction had been to swat at it the instant that she had felt it. The second was what she had just done – absolutely nothing.

The waitress finally brought over her coffee, shooting nervous glances over Tesa’s shoulder to Graffion. Then the woman’s brown eyes locked with Tesa’s amber ones and she cringed visibly before taking the credits Tesa offered to her. As the waitress scurried away to other customers with rising anxiety, Tesa spun back around, her thermos of coffee in hand. She took the couple of steps back to Graffion’s table. She swooped in, kicked back the corner of her black cloak, lifted her leg and sat down on the edge of the table… right in front of the assassin. The thermos’ bottom struck the table softly and Tesa’s nails clicked against the hard surface. She leaned forward slightly, lips parting,

“I work for whom I decide.” Did she really want to say this? Why not? The man already knew she was a mystery. Why not add on it? Make him think about her more? Make him wonder who she really was and what she really did and what she really did mean underneath all her play of words… “I work for something and nothing. All and zero.”

She was getting odd stares from those who could see her clearly. There had been an inflation of alarm when she sat on the tabletop. Tesa could almost hear the whispers that were in their hearts; could hear that question: ”What does she think she’s DOING?” Tesa smiled but her voice lowered.

“You’re welcome, Kitty,” she purred gently. The diner was very oddly quiet, Tesa thought, far too quiet for what she wanted to tell him. Glassware and metals clinked together, and the random cough would splutter. The silence was weighing her words louder than she liked, and so she leaned down to return his previous whispers with her own. “It wouldn’t have been accomplished without you, though, but no one needs to know that. It’ll be our dirty little secret.” Tesa’s face conformed to the poisonous curves rounding her lips. “Yes, this means no gloating or flaunting in any or all assassins’ guild you may have. Keep everybody ignorant of what goes on. Let them believe the story they have created. It makes things more interesting and more fun.”

She leaned away looking him in the eye. This gaze she held onto firmly as her hand wrapped around his wineglass, over his hand. The air came to standstill as Tesa gently lifted the wineglass’ edge to her lips and tipped it just so that a small little spilled between her parted lips. She was paying for his wine; he couldn’t really protest. Someone shuffled quickly (an understatement; it was as if their bum had been lit on fire) past Tesa’s leg and departed out the door with a loud rattle. His fear was delicious. "Red wine’s better.” Two of her fingers came forth and sandwiched a length of his bangs, pulling down gently. “And don’t cut your pretty hair.”

She shifted her weight off the table, picking up her coffee, and took a sip as she started away. “Ta-ta, Mr. Maruhuey. Maybe next time we’ll go caroling.” Her coffee hand rose and she wiggled her fingers in farewell. He should well be feeling both flattered and annoyed, and unsure what exactly he should think about her, or so was Tesa’s estimate. If he was, very good. She had just pulled off her scheme well.

One brutish character mumbled at her as she passed, his deep voice sounding rumbling throughout the air-robbed diner. “Favored harlot.”

Tesa paused for a moment. Her coffee thermos was to her lips and her head tilted to let her harsh eyes take in the fellow. Her blood hissed at the comment. But she blinked, took her sip, and then carried on, deciding not to interact with the rude man. She exited onto the streets of Nar Shaddaa. Insanus came to life as she reactivated him and set him onto her shoulder as the droid got his bearings once more.

“I wish you would stop doing that, Ms. Tesa. It really messes up my processors. What did I miss?”

“Mr. Maruhuey is a fine character indeed…”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes…”

“As long as I don’t have to sing a duet with him. We heading to the fight scene?”

“But of course. You do know I enjoy a good fight.”

“Blood bath is more like it. You expect him to be there?”

“Absolutely. There will be much disappointment if he is not.”

[Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice*]

As Tesa slinked over and sat down, rather provocatively, perhaps too provocatively in such a public area, Graffion's eyes, mechanical and flesh alike, did not move from her. He watched everything about her, from the cocky gait to the way she held her legs casually, enticingly off the table. She leaned in, as if to whisper some dirty secret, and his eyes narrowed; he could feel the stares of others, see the bulging eyes all around that he was forced to ignore at the moment, to show weakness of any kind now would damage his reputation.

“I work for whom I decide,” Admirable, Graffion could not deny that before him sat someone who was not just cocky, but knew she was in control, was use to being in control; she did indeed work for whoever she wanted to. And Graffion could tell that whomever she wanted happened to be herself, first and foremost, “I work for something and nothing. All and zero.” How absolutely infuriating. She spoke in one of those vague, dodgey ways that didn't quite tell you anything except that they were or thought they were better than the average; usually used as a smokescreen for intention.

The whole diner was now, absolutely silent. Not even a mouse, a thing that couldn't possibly understand the brevity of the situation, would peep due to the atmosphere of the room. The people stared as though they were two gun-fighters waiting for the strike of noon...

“Your welcome kitty,” There was that annoying nick-name, how on earth did she come up with that? ( must be some attraction to animal metaphors, as she had called the normal thugs wolves ) Nevertheless, he couldn't but feel embarrassment, even anger at the fact that everyone had heard, everyone saw. She even leaned forward quite brazenly, almost as though taunting him in a battle of wits by hurting his image, and whispered, “It wouldn't have been accomplished without you, though, but no one needs to know that. It'll be our dirty little secret. Yes, this means no gloating or flaunting in any or all assassins' guild you may have. Keep everybody ignorant of what goes on. Let them believe the story they have created. It makes things more interesting and more fun.”

Right. She probably didn't even realize that she'd just thrown out more than he'd have liked her too; people didn't need to see them having any further business than an exchange of money, but thanks to her little stunt there would be questions, some dumb fool might be unlucky enough to investigate.

Graffion narrowed his eyes dangerously as Tesa took a sip of his wine, her hand placed over his to hold the bottle. Brazen move. She had nerve, he'd give her that. A little feeling in his chest, a frustrated, stumped feeling, bloomed. Something he rarely experienced, one that seemed to be more frequent in light of his visits from Strae Arhst, that contemptible little spy ring-leader who constantly out-maneuvered him every time that they met. It was always a struggle with Strae, and he could see that in this woman as well. Except instead of it being a struggle to see who can sneak up on who, or who can get the upper-hand in a deal, it was a battle of words and actions. Sometimes, like privately in the shop, a battle of wits. Now, a battle of ego's, done with words and actions alike. For a moment, Graffion wondered if she realized that if she hadn't been so damn amusing he'd already be stuffing her carcase into a ventilation shaft or some dump pile by now.

Someone walked passed, fear obvious in his every movement. As he moved passed Graffion saw a glimmer in Tesa's eye, as though she relished, bathed, breathed that very fear through her lungs like some refreshing drink. It could have been the wine, but Graffion was sure of it; she enjoyed the fear. Even if it was reflected toward someone else. Graffion, however, did not quite know what to make of this part of Tesa.

“Red Wine's better.” she said, 'liar.' He thought to himself, 'Liar or she's just got terrible taste. In wine at least.' She reached forward and touched his hair. He had to resist the incredible urge to reach forward and break her wrist. If there was one thing he didn't like, it was someone touching his hair. However, something inside him wouldn't let him reach forward. Despite the fact that in his head, he was screaming for vengeance, for something; the people around him sensed it, sensed his discomfort. It was a well known thing, NOBODY touched Graffion Maruhuey. He had to do SOMETHING, but he simply wouldn't be moved to do anything. He simply didn't.

“And don't cut your pretty hair, With that she slid off the table and started to leave, “Ta-ta-, Mr. Maruhuey, maybe next time we'll go caroling.”

He stared for a moment, his eyes swiveling from her to his hair. 'pretty?' He thought for a moment, and he felt his cheeks actually tinge red as she left, and he had to forcibly will himself not to blush. Damn woman! Vile, contemptible woman! His heart started to flutter, his face turning to a sneer as she left. He was all prepared to get up, shake it off, and order another bottle of alcohol ( something stronger ) when he heard the words, “Favored Harlot.”

Tesa stopped. He stopped. Everyone stopped. For a moment, people thought that the large man who'd said that was just going to explode from the stare that Graffion honed in on him. The big man wasn't even looking at Graffion. He was looking at Tesa, who was frozen in mid-step. It was the oddest thing ever, like someone had pushed a giant pause button on the entire room, and every face was stuck somewhere between 'flabbergasted' and 'horrified.'

And then things resumed, Tesa simply walking forward, ignoring the comment and heading out the front door. She was a much bigger person than Graffion.

Things quieted to low murmurs for a moment. She was gone. Some people dared to move. That is, right up until Graffion stood up from his seat, calmly, his face still stuck in an icy glare. He moved purposefully, his boots thumping loudly on his heels across the floor, each deliberately slow and emphasized step reverberating through the diner, sending chills down people spines. His left hand reached down to his cloak, vanishing underneath the folds.

Every eye was on him. He enjoyed it. He wanted it, right now he planned on giving the audience quite the show. He came behind the big man and halted, his feet coming to a loud thud. The man was large, very large. He was a black human with broad shoulders and muscled arms, with a full head of dark hair. The man heard Graffion's approach, but didn't even turn. Whether that was because he didn't want to acknowledge him or because he was too scared, Graffion didn't know; or care.

His right hand violently lashed out suddenly and grabbed a fistful of hair. The man started to stand up, scooting his chair back slightly so he could retaliate somehow, but before he could even remove his ass from the seat, his face was flying into the edge of the table, the bridge of his nose jamming hard right into its side; so hard there was brutal crack. A gush of blood sprayed across the table and poured down onto the mans pant legs.

Graffion pulled his head back so that he leant back in the chair, the back of his neck pulled back against the neck of the chair, and exposing his throat quite well. The man started to scream as well, pain overwhelming him, but Graffion removed his left arm from his pocket and jammed his palm into his throat, silencing him for the time being, and then placing his hand back into his cloak.

He looked at the crowd and said, very loudly so all could hear, yet still keeping his voice at an icy calm level, “Graffion Maruhuey doesn't do whores. Doesn't delve in weakness. Doesn't accept insult!” In a barely perceptible flash of motion, his left hand came out of his cloak, raced across the air and returned. A stream of blood jetted out of the man's throat for several seconds, and people gasped, taking a moment to register how quickly he'd pulled out his knife and slashed this man's throat open. It was a clean and precise cut, intended to make a mess out of the ceiling, wall, and patrons who were unlucky enough to be sitting in the spray zone, “Now get out. All of you.”

There was a moments hesitation, then Graffion threw the dead man's face back to the table, and people scrambled out of their seats to get out through the doors, people in the back finding the emergency exits.

Most of the patrons were gone, the last two were shuffling passed Graffion when he held a hand out to block them, one was wearing a brown cloak and the other simple commoners clothes, “Not you two.” He said.

The one in the cloak lowered his hood, revealing himself. It was a man that Graffion recognized from before, of course. They were spies under Strae's employment, “He's getting keener.” The first one said, “Admirable.”

“Watch it.” Graffion warned, “Not in the best mood.”

The two men both took a seat across from Graffion, “Who, if you don't mind our asking, was that?”

Graffion looked at the dead man and said, “Some asshole.”

“No, not him.” The spy said, clucking impatiently, of course Graffion knew who the man was referring to.

“Business associate.”

“She's pretty.” The second spy chipped in, drawing a sneer from Graffion, “Alright, you didn't stop us for no reason, out with it.”

“Is Strae truly that interested in me that she still sends her dogs to watch me?” Graffion asked, “Tell her to lay off. If I want to see Upezzo Keeza's ugly face, I'll come to you.”

The spies exchanged glances, then the cloaked one smirked, “It was our hope that you wouldn't see our faces.”

“Shove it.” Graffion retorted, “Fortunately for you, right now I do want to see your faces.”

That perked them both up, “What for?” They asked at the same times, and then wound up shooting each other annoyed glances.

“There's a gang war that's about to happen. I have very distinct plans for what I want this sector of Nar-Shaddaa to look like, and neither of those gangs fit in my painting...Unless you count their blood-stains.”

It was true. Graffion had been concocting a scheme of his own. Things were getting boring. Simple gang assassinations weren't cutting it anymore; it was altogether too easy. He saw an excellent opportunity for fun and prosperity alike. If he took out both gangs, dead to the man, than this entire sector will be gang free. That means that any surrounding powers or crime-lords will march on this sector as surely as starving slaves would jump on bread, and if there's many slaves and only one loaf, then there's going to be a fight.

It ensured that he had plenty of jobs for a solid month, maybe even a year. Of course, he only planned on staying in Nar Shaddaa for perhaps another few weeks, but he'd have plenty of money for himself to get off this planet with a respectable pilot that wouldn't wind up getting raided by pirates or mercenaries. And best of all, he'd be able to stand in the back-ground and watch the bickering, then solve all their problems. Everybody would forget about today's mishap; instead of Graffion's weakness, today would forever be known as Graffion's fury. And if he ever chose to come back to this dump, he'd be more than the king of this sector. He'd be a god.

~*~

The main square of the sector is where the two gangs converged upon each other. Thugs with blasters, rifles and pistols alike, stood on either side of the square, shooting across the massive pit in the middle from behind cover. On either side, thugs with swords tried making their way around, charging to reach and destroy enemy up close and personal, meeting the other gang's thugs in a vicious melee to either side of the massive pit.

There were sharp-shooters as well, standing on top of buildings with good quality rifles; some even had snipers. Those with the blasters were too focused on the enemies' sharp-shooters and rifle-men to pay any attention to the melee fight, and the melee couldn't do anything until one side won. So, really, there were three battles going on. Two melees on either side, and a fire-fight across the square. Any civilians had long since ran, terrified of the cross-fire that zigged, zagged, and scorched every wall. It was a rather slow progress, actually, as both sides were fairly pathetic at shooting, and evenly matched.

At first, Graffion only watched the battle, getting a feel for which side had the advantage. He stood on the top of a building, his whole form melded neatly into the shadows. His eyes scanned the assets of either side. In every war, it was always key individuals who decided the tide of a fight. Perhaps a commander who inspired the troops. Perhaps a foot-soldier whose performance or skill boosted morale. Or even just a sharp-shooter who was picking off the enemies excellingly well. In this case, it was the latter.

On the Northern side, only a few buildings away, actually, there was a twi'lek rifle-man who had an excellent shotting position. He was a better shot than others as well. He was significantly winning the battle for his side. Graffion grinned, his form moving quickly but silently, almost invisibly, along the roof-tops.

In a matter of minutes, he was behind the sharpshooter, who honed another target, and squeezed off a few rounds, killing yet another of his enemies. The man wasn't paying any attention at all to his surroundings. Graffion could pretty much sit down next to him and he wouldn't notice. It was almost too easy as his knife tore into the side of the Twi'lek's ugly yellow throat.

The next target was also on the North side. He didn't stand a chance, and Graffion couldn't suffer him to live. This one wasn't so much superior skill, as superior equipment. He was a bit trickier to get to as well, for Graffion had to stay low and to the shadows, moving slowly and silently. This man had a much better view of his surroundings than the last, and glanced over his shoulders every so often. Nevertheless, within four minutes, Graffion was standing over his corpse as well, grinning with superiority.

While he'd been taking out the North assets, the Southern sharp-shooters had gained a foot-hold. In fact, they'd even managed to skew the numbers so that they were winning. In fact, they even managed to kill off the last of the roof-top shooters. Graffion smirked, “How 'bout we clear them, keep this fight on the ground.” He muttered to himself, and with that he picked up his fresh kill's weapon. It was a sniper rifle, and had a very good zoom.

Graffion proved much more proficient with this weapon than its former wielder. He capped his first two kills within a minute, leaving only two roof-top snipers on the enemies side.

Graffion ignored the carnage beneath him, several smoking, charred corpses, and a great deal of blood already running off the square. He wasted no time killing off the last roof-top and razing the skies. That was the last of the sniper threats; now he wouldn't have to watch his head if he joined the fray.

By the looks of things on the battle-field below, he definitely did need to join the fray. The Blighters had the Boxers significantly outnumbered on one end of the battle-field. The Boxers fought valiantly and to the man, but if someone didn't bolster their lines, he could see their valiance as short lived.

He quickly made his way through the roof-tops, edging toward the battle-field. This would be the moment he revealed himself. He knew, in his head, somehow, that Tesa was watching. She'd see him do this. She'd seen him in battle, but so far, she hadn't seen him at work yet. He grinned, just wait till things got really heated; he'd show her what happened when Graffion Maruhuey put his heels down and got. to. Work.

Standing on the edge of a roof-top, just above the fighting groups, twenty Blighters and nine Boxers, Graffion appeared like some tall Gargoyle, his cloak draped over his hole body, two twin swords held in an X over his chest. He grinned satisfactorily, knowing that any spectator would be able to see him, but none of these men even thought to look up. ( XD Deer never look up. ) He reached to a little ear-piece that he wore, a new addition, something he rarely did; if he wore an ear-piece it meant he worked with a team. He licked his lips, and said, “Do it.”

From either side of the battle-field, the voices of their gang-leaders, who had both until now been hiding, shouted out, “CHARGE!”

Both the Blighters and the Boxer's all threw down blasters and took up swords, abandoning their cover and dashing out to charge their enemies. They met on one side, in the center, with a bloody fight, swords cleaving, bodies thrashing. There was a good grouping of at least 60 Blighters and 40 Boxers, and the whole battle had been reduced to one bloody melee, courtesy of their leaders 'wise' decisions.

What neither gang could know, is that their leaders and their guards were all dead. The voices of “Charge!” that had called out were just that, voices, copied onto sonic-recorders by Graffion's two accomplices; the Upezzo spies. In this form of combat, both gangs would have maximum casualties before they even found out...

The Boxers were losing badly now, they were already down thirty to the Bligthers fifty-five. Graffion took a deep breath, then whispered, “Get into position...”

With that, he dove down from the roof-top, landing on two poor Blighters, his twin swords stabbing down the shoulders of each one, deep into their hearts.

His blades yanked out of the bodies and he became a whirlwind of motion, a wave of death for the first few Blighter's in his way, too shocked to even react as his blades sliced through, hacking through armor and flesh, through heart, head, and arteries. Three bodies fell in a bloody gush.

Graffion then turned his attention to his left, blocking a vicious strike with only one blade and riposting rapidly with the other, ripping out the attackers jugular. Without so much as a pause, he whipped around and threw both twin-blades up into the x formation, blocking an overhead cleave from a powerful Aqualish. Graffion lifted his leg and kicked twice for the Aqualish's knee, then moved his blades in quick succession, tearing flesh quickly in a multitude of cuts that had the thing staggering backward and bleeding profusely. Two wide slashes then took the regenerative creatures head right off.

Seeing the sudden appearance of this strange fighter, and the dropping of five opponents in mere seconds, the Boxers pressed forward with renewed vigor, falling upon Blighters quickly. All around Graffion blades ignited into sparks, he blocked and dodged, and moved around, slowly pushing himself away from the fight, then rolling out of the main group of bodies, out to the edges, where he molded into the shadows.

From there, he escaped their view, and held perfectly still, it was as if he'd simply disappeared. Slowly he crept along, picking targets in the frays of battle. Those who stuck out like a sore thumb, he'd suddenly leap forward like a trap-door spider, plunging his blades into the unfortunate souls back, only to melt back into the shadows once more.

At first, he only killed Blighters. Then, the Boxers were in the lead, Twenty five to Twenty. So he switched sides, afterall, it was only fair! His presence wasn't completely unknown, eventually, the Blithers had caught on, and he'd had to kill a few of them. The Boxers saw him a few times, and were encouraged, that is, right up until he started killing them.

The Blighters took up the cheer this time, attacking with a new vigor of their own. Then things evened up, and Graffion started to kill members of both sides. It took them a while to even figure that out, but with only ten fighters on either side, they began to realize with sickening horror that Graffion Maruhuey was playing the field. Suddenly, the whole fight seemed to stop.

“Get him!” One shouted, and the whole battlefield seemed to turn to him and attack. Graffion laughed in their faces, and hesitantly, they made a small, disorganized formation, cutting him off. Slowly, they squeezed their ranks in tighter, getting cautiously closer, wondering when he'd attack. He didn't. He let himself hang eerily in the shadows, his blades in their X formation on his chest.

Then he held up a hand to his mouth and gave a loud, shrill whistle. Right above him, the two Upezzo spies made their presence known, cracking flares to life. The thugs all stared up in horror as the spies both lifted two large bags, and turned them over, emptying the contents.

Five or six heads rolled out from each bag; the heads of their gang leaders and their respective body-guards, falling off of the roof-top and bouncing off of the ground all around Graffion, some of them collapsing, splattering, raining brain matter and coagulating blood across the floor. It was literally raining decapitated head, and Graffion was relishing in their abject horror. Graffion's eyes narrowed, and a wicked grin spread-across his face. A moment later, just as he had impressed the graven-image of death upon them, he struck, his swords spinning and slashing and hacking through enemies.

The two spies pulled their rifles forward, and from their advantageous position, they mercilessly gunned down several of the gang members. The final confrontation was over within a minute, Graffion dropping the two twin blades on the ground, bleeding corpses surrounding every side of him.

It wasn't his war, he hadn't even killed most of the people. In fact, his number of kills only rounded up to twenty in total. Yet he'd manipulated it that he'd been there the whole time, stricken fear down their spines, and left one of the goriest messes this side of Nar Shaddaa in hundreds of years. It wasn't his massacre; he'd been responsible only for that very last thing; and yet, everybody would remember this as Graffion Maruhuey's wrath. When he had a bad day---it was time to duck.

They'd remember. They'd all remember.

He knew that somewhere out there, Tesa was watching. With his typically cocky attitude, he gave a salute, hoping she'd see it, and then simply walked away...

~*~

There was a third and fourth Upezzo Keeza spy there that day as well. They had absolutely no interest in the battle, they hardly even cared about Graffion Maruhuey. No, they were interested in a different target altogether. They'd taken it upon themselves to find and follow Tesa. They wanted to know who she was, and what she was doing with Graffion; and how the hell she'd gotten away with the events at the Diner.

[Squee]

((All right... A lot of fluff and really long and I really don't like it because it hardly sounds correct. Oh well. Sorry.))

They were following her. They thought they were so crafty, manipulating themselves into their surroundings. Prone, they were, to keeping distance more behind her, like many such spies. Only fools did not look behind them from time to time. And only fools did not look up. That was how prey was destroyed; they never looked up. These people believed Tesa was prey, and she would be simple, easy prey who would not take any sort of recognition of the moving shadows. Tesa found this so very amusing. She was a moving shadow too, or could be when she desired. She could perform all the actions these people could and more. She was better equipped and better taught.

Tesa continued to stride down the middle of the streets, however. There wasn’t a need just yet to exercise her show of power and strength. These people had an interest in her, which made her curious about them in return. What did they want to know so badly that they needed to follow her to get? Surely some woman walking on the street held no immediate interest. That is, unless they knew something about her. If someone knew anything about her, they knew the wrong information about her. Like the kind of information that could get them killed.

But Tesa was not looking to kill. To kill would place blood directly on her hands. Tesa didn’t like to feel the wet gush and see the crimson droplets fall. She wasn’t fascinated with standing over the gore of a mangled body that she had recently damaged. What high was there in that? She was numb to killing, if and whenever she did. Those who came to death by her hand didn’t fear long enough to make it sweet. They stayed only as long as a quick startle, like the last puff of a cigar, and then their presence vanished, like the muting of a cigar’s flame. No joy. If it came down to necessities, Tesa would become the killer for a night.

Did they know who she truly was? Did they already know she had a powerful will at her fingertips? That would be motive enough for her to kill. What about the secrets she had been keeping? What about the ignorance she displayed on a rusted platter to this sector’s people? What of her involvement with the gangs? By the Force, did they mean to attempt to stop her gang war? No, it was far too late for that. In fact, much longer from now, and she’ll be far too late for the show.

“Do you ever consider yourself?”

“Pardon?” Tesa replied to her droid. Her hand shielded one side of him, slowly encroaching in on his side to make him huddle up closer to her head. The hood came up, masking them further into the shadows. Tesa double checked on the two constant presences around her that were steadily growing familiar.

“Sentient beings like to think about themselves as uplifting as they let themselves allow. They like to boast about what they believe themselves to be. Very few reach the conclusion that they are not always what they think and attempt to dive deeper into their inner selves to realize what they truly are.”
Tesa thought for a moment, making a sharp turn to take a shortcut through the alley. Did her stalkers notice? Yes, they did, but they were hesitant to follow her now. They would have to catch up. Tesa smirked before returning Insanus’s ramble, “Yes, well, I don’t know a person that can see themselves for what they truly are. People always need someone to mark out their mistakes. The foolish ones are the ones who don’t accept the criticism and believe there is nothing to change because they act however the hell they want to act. I’m sorry to say that those kinds of attitudes won’t always save their neck from getting sliced. One cannot always act as he desires. There is unknown, conscious pressure that keeps certain acts from happening: whether they stand out or say something. Other people make each other act in a specific way. It’s a never settled mold. There's always going to be change to an attitude or act because of how another may look at or say toward. Everyone reacts to each other.”

This could be compared to the people following Tesa. They now felt different toward her because of her decision to come down the alley. Except that had not been her decision, was it? Or had it been? They were following her, so she felt the need to give them a hardship for trailing her.

“So, you say we are not in control of ourselves?”

“That is perhaps one way to look at it. Though most would disagree. People like to feel like they are control. Look at a chrono for once. Time is a thing that was created, not natural, so that logical, solid thinking beings could grasp an abstract thing.”

“They would like to rest with the knowledge that they think for themselves…”

“When maybe their thoughts are not truly their own.” It was like standing on a raised side of a crack and the lower side. It was unsteady ground that even Tesa questioned the strength of such idea. “Like Graffion, who is going to be in this war because of some things that I did. Quite frankly, I would think I left him stunned and furious at the stab toward his reputation back there in the diner.”

“Hn… Then you too are under the illusion of control.”

Grimly, Tesa nodded. If this was a theory to consider, then she was no different than all the others she passed on the street. How absolutely distasteful and despicable. She didn’t like the idea. Just then, she rejected even what she had thought up, hating it so. Tesa enjoyed her “illusion” of control. Her control was easy to come by because people were so dumb, so blind, so numb to their surroundings that they simply did not have a motive to care. When people were that oblivious, it made them easy puppets. And Tesa was their puppeteer and this was her show. That was exactly how this gang war had begun.

These streets were near deserted, and Tesa knew that her massive battle had begun already. She could hear the echoes of swords and the blasters. The clanging and the whines made her tingle with satisfaction. Yes, she had done this. She had influenced this battle. She was the one ridding the galaxy of idiotic blotches. Tesa inhaled her satisfaction like an addict does his smoke, and she felt good and mellow. Now that her part was complete, she could sweep in and observe with a smirk painted across her pretty lips, wishing that she had a refreshing drink and a crunchy snack. This was going to be quite a show indeed, since she knew Kitty had to be here. He had whispered to her this was an opportunity for him, and Graffion didn’t seem to be the character to pass on an opportunity. A memory flashed up: the maniac’s gleam in his eye when he mentioned about killing his way through Nar Shaddaa to find her. He was going to take the opportunity to have fun! If Tesa were any other, she would be the one deserting the street as well.

As it were, she slipped right around the corner and paused in the shadow of metal steps, leading up to the higher areas of the tall building as set her back to. Using both shadow and light to her advantage, Tesa blended herself well against the wall. Hiding in plain sight. Firepower raced in flashes above her, like brilliant fireworks. The crossfire was marvelous to stare at for a few seconds before she lowered her eyes to the squirming, writhing upright bodies locked in combat. She checked her sides and tested the air with the Force. Her tagalongs hadn’t caught up yet, and she couldn’t sense Graffion, yet Tesa felt he was here. She crouched, watching out, looking for the slightest change that would reveal Graffion’s passing.

Several minutes the battle raged and Tesa grew steadily impatient, wanting to see her assassin. Then, an awkwardness reached her ears. A stillness had settled deep, unnerving because of that calm. Something was missing. Tesa lifted her chin slowly, matching the shadow again. Aha, there was less bolt noise. Fewer people were shooting.

Then came a mighty, commanding call that reverberated around the area. Tesa watched in amusement as those who used blasters tossed them or holstered them. More sword blades gleamed, sparkling, dangerous diamonds that screeched like banshees as they collided. The air was immediately clapping with sword fight and the sounds of grunting, crying men and women. That hadn’t been their leaders’ voices. That would have been a truly stupid move, and these thugs followed such a fake call so easily. They had faulty shepherds but none of the Blighters or the Boxers seemed to care as they dived to take out their enemy’s throats. A morbid thought came: What if they knew she had pitter them against each other like starved dogs in an arena?

Ah… There he is. Quite a lovely sight. Descending down like the reaper of death. Following downward spikes into two of the thugs, Graffion engaged himself into the fight, perfectly losing himself to a timeless, nearly rhythm-less dance to the singing of his own blades. Each new instrument played its part: the gush of blood, the thunk of a body or limp as it struck the ground, the gurgled responses. The greatest instrument was the silent scream. Those expressions of gaping maws and wide, surprised eyes were humorous. It was like they couldn’t believe their own death was upon them. That was what happened when one tangoed with an assassin.

It was some time, when the numbers were now significantly thinner than when she arrived, that the gangs realized what she had long ago. Graffion would switch between the two teams. He would fight alongside one before deciding the better challenge would be against them. He didn’t care who he killed. He just wanted to kill. He likely knew she was here, watching this, and either trying to make a statement to her or wanted to impress her with his prowess. It the statement was that he could and would turn against her, Tesa was most displeased. She’d make sure to ask him about it next time she spoke with him.

An evil chuckle escaped Tesa before she realized it. Maruhuey was a morbid man. A very morbid man. He knew the way through to the mind of those he fought. Graffion knew that having the heads of the gangs’ leaders being dumped on the remaining survivors would challenge their morale. However, by doing that, Graffion was making this fight easier on cocky little him. Did he know that? These survivors were alive for a reason. They could handle their sword better than the others. Tesa frowned, suddenly disgusted by both the gore and slightly disappointed in Graffion. But then, maybe she shouldn’t be. Maybe he had simply wanted to see the fighters’ squeamish faces, to relish in their agonized horror.

By the Force, who did she have her eye on?

But now… Graffion himself couldn’t have dumped those heads… There were other people involved with him as well. So, the assassin didn’t like to do things completely alone. That meant that, in the future, she could use this against the man if he ever stated that he worked alone. Well done, Maruhuey. Tesa found herself grinning. Did he notice that he had revealed traces of how he worked through this short, one battle war? By the end of it, of course, Tesa had moved several times to keep out of harm’s way. At the moment, she stood, braced, on a building’s protruding large, decorative lip. She couldn’t have been more than fifteen yards from Graffion, watching him, grinning madly at his salute out into the open.
She couldn’t have decided on a better man.

As Graffion retreating from this gory affair, so did Tesa – she went in the opposite direction. Sane’s claws were tight in her shoulder as she glided silently down a metal staircase. In a small hush made by her cloak was the only announcement of her sudden turn, taking a barren street away from the open city valley. She felt a surprised rush in the Force, feeling her tagalongs’ general feelings as she did things. They had expected her to take the alley again. No, one of them had. One had been stationed near the alley and the other had been closer to the street, closer to her. She walked right by that person, ignoring them completely.

Time to put these guys to the test. The one left behind had already caught up. Tesa glanced over her shoulder. Nothing. The only whispers of their existence rested in the confines of her own mind. Systematically, Tesa led the way back to the more crowded streets, being discreet. Returning to lively streets, Tesa mingled with people, trying to lose herself in the bodies. The spies proved to be person body familiar as well, melding with people but never losing track of her. Very well. Being apart of the shadows hardly made much of a difference. They followed too easily. Fine. Tesa stepped faster, switching from people to shadow to people. She used people and shadow, influencing a group to linger here and to linger there but keeping it from remaining suspicious. Tesa melted her body with her surroundings but then might walked proudly and boldly down the center of the street. Every so often, Tesa would turn her head casually to see if she could eyeball them out. Each time, she could not. But there they were, in the Force, frustrated or otherwise by having to chase a woman who seemed silly and sporadic, and probably needed mental help.

Tesa couldn’t shake them solely using her body alone, as she had been trying to do. Whoever these people were, they were used to stalking their targets. They did it really well, too, and Tesa would give them credit for it. Now, however, was the time to really shake them. Tesa planned on leaving within the next couple of hours. She could not afford for these spies to be allowed to chase her around the galaxy. Some of her doings were private business, private manners. Tesa would give them a warning and if she noticed them again, she would have to kill them.

Tesa skimmed along the outer edges of the shadow, drawing the Force to her. At an angle, Tesa dipped into the shadows, using the Force to create a fuzzy illusion about her. She did not emerge at the end of the shadow. The woman had instead begun to backtrack, going back toward the spies. A moment later, she dropped her illusion and emerged from the shadow, heading back she way she had come. Honing in on her following characters, she noticed their surprise. Tesa abruptly stopped in front of a little store. There she browsed the goods with a seasoned buyer’s eye and made small talk with the merchant until she felt the spies take up their waiting positions. As she had assumed, one had taken root in one of the places Tesa herself had marked before. Perfect. It was time to be rid of them.

Tesa bid the merchant her goodbyes, complete with a friendly wave, turned on her heel, and marched for the thin alley that had passage to the next block over. Halfway across to the alley, Tesa pinpointed her target with her eyes: a wiry figure in an unattractive coat fit for a homeless being. No wonder she hadn’t noticed the spy: Tesa had been looking for the wrong picture! Making mental note of it, Tesa made as if to obliviously stride by. This pass, however, went terribly different as her hand reached out and buried fingers into the collar of the cloak. The figure was immediately wrenched from his spot, an involuntary, startled curse sputtering, and dragged behind Tesa. Shadows swallowed them a second later, before the cloaked figure could react. Tesa yanked on his filthy clothes with one hand and produced her knife from her belt with the other. Using both the element of surprise and her strength, Tesa threw him against the wall and held him there with a palm driving against his shoulder. Her knife tapped against his chest and then she tapped the flat side against his chin before using the point to flip his hood back.

“Well now… I seem to have caught myself a rat,” Tesa smirked. “A rat who has been following me. Where’s your buddy? Call him for me. And if he tries to shoot me, I’ll know about it and you’ll be dead.” She pressed the knife against the man’s throat, leaning her body close and her hand sweeping over his sides and thighs, checking for weapons. She yanked out a blaster and tossed it further into the alley. “NOW, or I’ll just murder you and be done with it. I’ll catch him next,” Tesa hissed angrily.

“You’re pretty good…”

“I’ve had practice. Your friend, NOW. Here’s your device.” She shoved the communication device in his hand. When the spy made no move to use it, Tesa snarled, royally irked now and refused to look around. If she did, the man might try to take advantage of her and Tesa didn’t really want to kill him. Taking the device, Tesa looked at it, leaning her forearm across the man’s shoulder. “Is this set to your buddy? Come on now… I caught you, you might as well let me speak to the rest of your buddies to let them know this exact same thing will happen with everyone you send after me. No? Fine then… This message is for your boss. It’s an important message, and I want the best possible chance to get it to him. So, I want to tell the both of you in case one of you don’t make it.”

The man was infuriatingly silent and it stretched for several seconds as he simply looked her in the eye. Tesa glared in return, and then she heard the shuffling behind her. Tesa leaned carefully, snapping her boot backward and planting it in the unsuspecting second gentleman’s stomach, shoving him against the wall and compressing the air from him. The first man at her blade wiggled to the side and Tesa whipped around, sliding her knife against the side of his neck. She dropped the communicating device and grasped the man, yanking him forward. She stuck out her foot, forcing him to trip and collide with his friend.

“Ignoramus boys,” Tesa hissed. “Now you listen to me. I can hear you. I can see you. I can pick out who you are. I know when you’re following me. However, if I were to follow you, you wouldn’t see, hear, or know I was there. You tell your boss, however he is, to lay off. I do not appreciate being spied on. The next fool I catch following me is as good as dead. I have shown mercy here. Is there anything not understandable about this message? Good. Now, get out of my sight!” With the end of her commanding bark, the two men slunk off, scorched by the angry look in her yellow eyes.

“They didn’t try to fight you.”

“No. Whoever the boss is finds me too valuable or too interesting to harm me. I might have just stumbled into a net that I know I’m going to hate. This leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Let’s get out of here and get a head start before they try to follow me again.”

“You think they would try?”

“Yes. Once you spend more time around me, you’ll see why spies don’t give up.”

“Like you and Graffion?”

“Yes, but I will have to track him more some other time. With the spies, I’ll no longer be able to work in secret here on Nar Shadda. Time to leave and return to dark duties.”

Tesa made sure her hood was up and she started quicker down the streets, fleeing to the safety of her ship with a promise to herself to investigate this newfound net and find out who was sitting high and mighty at the top of its hierarchy.