3

"You ever heard of a rakghoul?"

His question caught Carth off guard, making the other man nearly drop his cig. "Yeah, they're monsters that inhabit the lowest levels of Taris. Some say they're leftover experiments of some Sith ritual; others say the Mandalorians manufactured them as some sort of viral weapon."

Avner nodded thoughtfully as he shuffled his newly acquired Pazaak deck, which Garouk had sold to him for a small fee. They stood outside the Jaded Ackley, regrouping after spending most of the day hopping between establishments to swap info. Avner watched him light up, and Carth sighed as he took a long drag.

"Bad habit I picked up in the Navy," Carth explained as he exhaled a plume of smoke.

For some reason, Avner knew he was lying. "Everyone I've talked to said the pods crashed somewhere in the Lower City. Nothing about survivors, though."

Carth nodded. "I've heard the same. Damn…"

"What?"

"The Lower City requires special authorization to get down there. Remember how I said only certain people were allowed to visit the Upper City? Well, the same applies to the lower levels," Carth explained. "And we don't have the clearance or enough credits to buy our way through."

"I thought we were staying in the Lower City back at the apartment."

Carth shook his head. "No, more like the lowest levels of the Upper City. We'll have to find a way to sneak into the exclusion zone or come up with enough credits to get in."

"Speaking of making more credits…"

"Don't tell me you're going to shark the card tables until you can scrape together enough credits for a proper headband."

"I rather like the one I have now," Avner shot back. "Garouk told me the dueling pits are a way for any being to make a quick cred."

"The dueling pits."

"Yeah, I stopped by, watched some matches, and spoke with the Dual Master. It's only a hundred credits to enter and-."

"A hundred credits!? Let me get this straight you want to gamble the rest of our money on some hack who may or may not win in these show fights? Stick with sharking the Pazaak tables, Avner," Carth exclaimed, squashing his smoldering cig under the heel of his boot.

"It wouldn't be just some hack; I would be in the ring."

Carth just stared at him, then burst into laughter.

"I don't see why it's so funny. I'm a pretty good marksman and quickdraw," Avner protested. He probably had more combat experience than any of the other combatants; besides, this was the most surefire way to make money fast and without drawing the attention of the Sith.

"It's not that you don't have experience; it's that you don't have the right kind of experience. Fighting in a dueling pit is much different than being four deep in a trench. These pit fighters cheat and use underhanded tactics to win; they could kill you," Carth said.

"Taris outlawed death matches years ago; the only thing I would have to worry about is receiving a stun shot or being hit with a riot stick."

"Or losing our last remaining credits."

"Look, right now, we're stuck. We can't get into the Lower City, don't have enough credits, and are no closer to finding those pods. We're just spinning our wheels here; it's time to take a chance, Carth," Avner said, staring the other man down.

Carth still looked skeptical but sighed in resignation. "Alright, we'll give your idea a shot."

They headed back inside and straight to the arena. It was situated just beside the Jaded Ackley, a built-on partition with a well-sized circular dueling ring lined with theatres all the way around. Avner ducked inside the fighter box, a room just off the arena that housed the pit fighters and Arena Master, Ajuur. Avner weaved through the beings assembled in the room; most were clustered around high-top tables lined with drinks while others watched the viewscreens broadcasting previous matches. His shoulder accidentally bumped against another man who immediately turned and stepped into his path.

"Watch where you're going, fresh meat. Do you have any idea who I am?" The man was about a head shorter than Avner and gangly. His face is bunched up like an irritated rancor babe, dark hair short and pulled back from his forehead, the man fighting an obviously losing battle with his receding hairline.

"Uhhhh-."

"I'm Deadeye Duncan, the number five ranked duelist in this cantina. You think you can beat me in the pits?" Duncan was standing nearly nose to nose with him. Well, almost, if his nose didn't only come up to his clavicle. His boisterous posturing was clearly a cover for his… shortcomings.

Avner decided to assuage the other man's ire. No need to cause a fight before even entering the pit. "Wow, you're the number five duelist! Out of how many?"

Duncan suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Uhh… well, five b-but it's an elite group. Not just anyone can step into the dueling ring."

Avner cocked his head to the side in questioning disbelief.

"Okay, so, yeah, anyone can enter, but few do!" Duncan scoffed before turning away. "Look, I'm the number five, so I don't have to waste my time explaining this to you, alright."

"Touchy," Carth murmured. Avner grunted in agreement and approached the massive Hutt lounging at the front of the chamber.

"Ahhh, Avner, are you ready for your first duel? Now that your entrance fee has been processed, you can enter the arena," Ajuur revealed as he pressed a few buttons on his console.

"You already used our credits!" Carth accused the Kiffar.

Avner shrugged. "I'd already talked to Ajuur before bringing it up with you while watching some of the matches. I had a feeling you would see things my way."

Carth looked like he wanted to say something more, but Ajuur butted in. "Everything has been set up accordingly; just pick up your modified stun blaster before entering the arena. Oh, and there's the matter of your name."

"My name?"

"His name?"

Ajuur nodded thoughtfully. "Every great duelist has an arena name like Deadeye Duncan or Twitch. It helps add an air of drama to the fight and makes people bet more." He scratched his triple chin mulling over the different possibilities. "You're an off-worlder and new to the pits… no one will recognize you; a complete mystery… I know! The Mysterious Stranger!"

"Uhhh, what?" Carth asked, looking completely confused.

"Mysterious Stranger," Avner murmured, rubbing his chin like Ajuur. "I like it."

The Hutt let a satisfied smile cross his wide face. "It's the perfect name for someone like you who has no past or history… it's almost like you have some big dark secret. People will like that; it will pique their curiosity."

Ajuur's words hit a bit too close to home for the Kiffar. The silly nickname held more truth than he was willing to admit; he often felt like a total stranger in his own life, with large swaths of his memory maddingly scrubbed away or just too vague to understand. He doesn't have time to dwell on this, though, as Ajuur gestured for him to enter the arena. The lights were bright as he stepped into the pit, and he could vaguely hear an announcer introducing him and… Deadeye Duncan?

The man looked just as surprised as he did. Who knew they would meet again so soon? A loud buzzer went off, signaling the start of the match. Avner's hand shot to his stun blaster strapped to his leg, pulling it free and aiming at his opponent. Poor Duncan was still fumbling for his blaster, obviously still in shock at who he was fighting. It slipped from his grasp, clattering to the arena's floor. Avner didn't give him a chance to go for it. He fired one shot at the man's exposed chest, and Duncan went down hard, his body spasming.

"IT'S OVER THE FIGHT IS OVER! THE MYSTERIOUS STRANGER HAS WON! BUT IS ANYONE REALLY SURPRISED WITH DEADEYES TRACK RECORD? YOU'LL HAVE TO DO BETTER THAN THAT TO IMPRESS US, STRANGER!"

Avner exited the arena, and suddenly, everyone's eyes in the fighter box were on him; conversations became hushed whispers as he passed on his way to Ajuur.

"Saw your match against Deadeye, rookie, not bad, but beating Duncan is a joke. Hell, I could beat him with none of my fingers." A handsome man with dark hair stood off to the side. Three fingers on his right hand were contracted inwards towards his palm though it didn't seem to bother him. "Names Gerlon Two-Fingers, rookie, and if you want a real challenge, step into the ring with me."

"Are duelists allowed to fight more than once a day?" Avner asked, wondering if there was some sort of cutoff.

"You can duel as many times as you want. Not that it will matter after I'm done with you," Gerlon sniped as he walked away.

Carth clapped him on his shoulder when he stopped in front of Ajuur. "Can't believe you won, though I guess it wasn't too hard since, you know, the other guy dropped his gun."

"A win is a win," the other soldier pointed out.

"Yes, and a good win it was. Many people bet on the fight, which means many credits found their way into my possession. Your winnings are right here unless…" The Hutt trailed off, his bulbous eyes narrowing slightly.

"Why do I feel like you're about to make a bad decision," Carth grumbled, mood souring as Avner nodded for the Hutt to continue.

"Gerlon has informed me of his wish to duel you. If you're ready for the fight, I can clear the arena and also maybe… offer a little wager."

"Go on," Avner pressed.

"I'll double your winnings for both Deadeye and Two-Fingers if you beat Gerlon with only one shot, but if you lose or fire more than one shot, then I keep your winnings from both matches," Ajuur said, spreading his stubby arms wide. "Or you could just take what you have earned now and forget our little deal."

"Avner," Carth began.

"I'll take those odds," Avner shot back. He was confident he could outdraw Gerlon before the other duelist could fire off a shot.

"This is crazy. Let's just take the winnings we have and walk away before we lose everything," Carth said. "Didn't your mother ever tell you to never take a bet from a Hutt?"

"Carth, I've got this. I have a feel for the arena and Gerlon. I've watched a few of his matches now; he's a quick draw artist who uses his own style of flair to distract his opponent, but his accuracy is low," Avner assured the other man. "Trust me."

"Trust is earned, Marek, not freely given," the pilot retorted though not as heatedly as before. "But they're your credits, so it's your call."

Avner nodded and descended back into the arena. The lights were not as bright this time, and the crowd was not so loud. He settled his breathing, blocking out the sounds of the cheering masses and announcer, instead focusing his senses on Gerlon. The other man was in a ready position, hand inches from his stun blaster and knees bent. Avner mimicked the stance and then sprang to the side. The buzzer barely rang out before Gerlon pulled his blaster free and fired. Damn, schutta was fast on the draw. He sprayed the arena with a flurry of shots, several barely missing the soldier as he rolled to his side. Instinct dictated that he fire back, but he stayed his hand. He didn't have a clear shot; Gerlon moved parallel to him, keeping pace with his limber sidesteps and rolls.

But he could tell the other duelist was beginning to grow frustrated. His shots were pulling increasingly to the right; his hand must be seizing up, the injured muscles spasming in pain. This was his chance! Gerlon was growing tired and lowering his guard more and more. He dropped his hand for a split second to reposition, and Avner fired, his stun bolt finding Gerlon's chest and forcing the other duelist to his knees.

"I DON'T BELIEVE THIS! GERLON HAS FALLEN, FOLKS, AND TO THE ROOKIE STRANGER. PERHAPS THIS NEWCOMER IS THE REAL DEAL!"

Ajuur's face was priceless when he came to collect his winnings. As was Carths.

"I don't know how you pulled this off, but I'm a Hutt of my word. The crowds love you, Stranger. Come back tomorrow, and I'll set you up with some real duelists," Ajuur grunted and waved them both away.

"Think this will be enough to get us into the Lower City?" Avner asked, flipping a cred chit with almost a thousand credits on it once through the air.

"Maybe, but it's too late to try anything tonight."

Avner returned to the Jaded Ackley the next day, dueling both Marl and Ice, each a veteran of the dueling pit and much more difficult to defeat. Ice was exactly as her name suggested, ice-cold in her demeanor and calculated shooting. It had been a tense two-minute standoff between them, both watching for the slightest twitch of muscle toward their blaster. They both went for their guns simultaneously, but Avner was faster, knocking Ice's legs out from under her with one clean, concise shot.

Marl had been a whole different fight altogether. The older man preferred to fight with riot sticks and shock batons, much to Avner's delight. He was an expert in martial combat and loved to test himself against other combatants. He and Marl exchanged numerous blows, the old fighter surprisingly spry for his age and able to score a few hits on his arms and back before Avner was able to beat the older man into submission. He had never seen a Hutt smile so much.

Now he was lounging at the main bar of the Jaded Ackley, watching the latest gravball game play out. His final duel with the reigning champ, Twitch, would occur later tonight. The Rodian was extremely unpredictable, his style wild and uncontrolled making it difficult to dodge his shots or even land a hit. Still, perhaps with this last big win, he could finally bribe a Sith guard at the Lower City lifts. Turns out they were not too keen on taking low-balling kickbacks. Carth was back at the apartment, most like grumbling about his plan. The man was growing impatient, and Avner couldn't blame him. He, too, was growing restless with being cooped up in the Upper City. His gut was twisting in apprehension. Something was coming. Something bad.

"Hey there, you're the Mysterious Stranger, right?"

Avner looked up and was greeted by the beaming smile of a pretty young woman with light brown hair and sparkling green eyes. Her skin was pale but dotted with a smattering of freckles that shadowed beneath her eyes and dusted across high cheekbones. "Depends on whose asking."

The girl let out a small twinkling laugh. "I'm Sarna, and I'm a pretty big fan of yours." She slid into a seat next to his.

"Oh yeah?" Avner gave her a full smile.

"Yeah," Sarna replied, leaning her head on her open palm, green eyes tracing his rugged features. "I watch your bouts whenever I can slip away from the base; Sith officers don't really get a lot of downtime."

He felt the smile slip from his lips. Frack, a Sith.

Sarna noticed his expression change and frowned. "Uh oh, I know that look. Look, I'm off duty right now, okay? So you don't have to worry about me running you in."

Avner took a breath and forced a smile back onto his face. "Nice to meet you, Sarna; I am the Mysterious Stranger." He stuck out his hand, and Sarna shook it enthusiastically.

"Is that your real name, Stranger?"

He shrugged and took a quick swig of his ale. "It's what everyone calls me."

They chatted back and forth for the next few minutes, and Avner was tempted to slyly ask about the downed pods but forewent it. Too big a risk. Sarna was bright, lively, and quite knowledgeable about the dueling pits and fighters. Her favorite was Marl for his unmatched experience and guile, while she couldn't seem to stand Gerlon and his insufferable attitude.

"He tried to pick me up once," Sarna revealed.

Avner chuckled. "Why does that not surprise me."

"Wouldn't take no for an answer, at least not until I told him if he wanted his two-finger status to apply to both of his hands." Avner openly guffawed at Sarna's animated retelling of her rejection of Gerlon, having to catch himself at the unabashed enjoyment he was feeling. She was a Sith trooper, not just some city girl looking to have a good time. Still… just because she worked for the Sith that didn't exactly mean she was as misguided as them.

You know," Sarna began tracing the rim of her glass with her forefinger. "I'm actually kind of surprised you've stayed and talked with me. Most people on Taris can't stand us; it can make the job… I don't know, lonely."

She ducked her head as if embarrassed by her admission, and for a second, Avner forgot she was a Sith officer and instead only saw a lonely girl desperate for some sort of connection. He couldn't help but sympathize with her, having been put in these situations himself, trapped on planets full of beings who hated that you're there, disrupting their lives. "I don't hold what you do against you; you're just doing your job."

This smile was the brightest one yet. "You're the first person whose said that, you know. We're not here to upend the peace just… I don't know, offer a little more security. Sometimes I feel as if everyone on this planet is stuck in a permanent bad mood."

"Well, everybody has their ups and downs, but it's how you deal with them that counts."

"Exactly! It's all about attitude. I didn't ask to be assigned to this backwater world, but I made the best of it. I've met new people, experienced new foods, and met a local celebrity." She lowered her eyes and looked up at him through her lashes. Avner could feel the heat rising to his cheeks, and he glanced away suddenly, very self-conscious. She touched his hand with hers. He was surprised at how soft it was. "You have to keep your spirits up."

Avner swallowed. "Yeah, gotta blow off steam every once in a while."

Sarna was about to say something more but was interrupted by a sudden beeping on her wrist. She cursed softly and checked the wrist-mounted comm before offering him an apologetic smile. "I've got to get going. I've been pulled onto a last-minute shift up at the base and need to go before I end up in the cells for tardiness." She got up and placed a few credits on the table. "Some of us officers are having a small party tonight after shift. Having a famous duelist let loose with us would be pretty cool. That is if you have the time."

Avner was caught off guard at her sudden invitation. "I uh…"

Sarna offered him a sympathetic look. "Look, no pressure, okay? If you can make it great, if not, that's okay too. I'll give you the coordinates if you change your mind. We're starting right after we get let off, probably not even going to lock up our uniforms."

"I'll see if I can make it," Avner assured her.

"Great. I'll be watching your match against Twitch tonight, Stranger. Good luck." She gave him one last wide smile before disappearing into the growing crowds. Avner stared after her as she left. Getting invited to a party hosted by the Sith was not something he thought would ever happen to him. Even crazier was that he was seriously considering going. While Sarna was a charming girl, he would be lying if he said he wasn't more interested in what he could possibly learn from loose-lipped Sith troopers and unmanaged datapads just begging to be pried into. However, he also ran the risk of being identified as a Republic soldier and hauled off to a prison camp if his identity was discovered. Carth would probably discourage him from going, which meant it was most definitely a bad idea. Which, in his case, meant it was a good idea.

Ah well, no time to worry about it now. He had to start making his way to the arena for his final fight against Twitch. The Rodian was the reigning champion of the pit, his erratic fighting style making him a true challenge. Ajuur didn't even speak to him as he entered the fighter box, only pointing him to the pit.

Twitch was already there, as were the cheering fans lining the arena's stands. This was it, the final duel. Avner could feel the crowd's energy thrumming in the air and nearly sensed Twitch's inconsistent thoughts. He knew when the buzzer was going to ring and what the Rodian was going to do first. He had no time to question how he did because Twitch was already firing. Avner rolled to the left as blaster bolts peppered the air above his head. He fired back, and Twitch, true to his name, seemed to jolt and arch his body at all different angles. Kriff, he was a slippery bastard.

Twitch fired, and a single bolt clipped his shoulder, forcing the soldier into a log roll. It was a bad position to be in, forced low and at the mercy of the other gunman. The crowd's cheers were reaching a fever pitch. Everything was moving faster now; Twitch's movements were a near blur. He twisted to avoid a salvo of shots and landed on his back. He saw the Rodian turning to follow his route, his blaster closing in. Avner swung his own pistol, his hand moving of its own accord, tracking an unseen path. His finger squeezed the trigger, a single blue bolt shattering against Twitch's chest. The Rodian crashed backward, lying still and for once not jerking about.

"TWITCH IS DOWN! I REPEAT TWITCH IS DOWN! THE MYSTERIOUS STRANGER HAS DONE THE NEAR-IMPOSSIBLE AND BEATEN THE MAD DUELIST! WE HAVE A NEW CHAMPION TODAY – THE MYSTERIOUS STRANGER!"

As Avner exited the arena, he caught sight of the Duel Master. If a Hutt could jump for joy, then that was what Ajuur would be doing right now. "I knew there was something special about you, Avner!"

He chuckled and accepted the credit chit. "Thanks for the opportunity."

"I'm sad to see you go, Stranger. Haven't seen a fighter of your caliber since Bendak Starkiller fought here years ago. Go, knowing I have no one else who can challenge you," Ajuur praised, and Avner nodded his thanks. He glanced down at his chrono as he left the Jaded Ackley, noting that he still had time to crash Sarna's party. Carth probably wouldn't be happy with what he was about to do, but what he didn't know wouldn't make him any more sullen.

The apartment complex Sarna lived in was sleek and much nicer than the one he and Carth currently inhabited. He turned down the pathway that brought him up to the entrance and stopped, hanging back a touch when he caught sight of two burly beings, one a human and the other an alien, barring the path of an elderly man who looked terrified.

"Davik says you missed your last payment," the human said, taking a step towards the quaking man.

"H-here, I've got f-fifty credits," the man stuttered, offering a shaking hand forward. "A down payment. T-that should buy me some time, right?"

The human smiled cruelly. "Sorry, old man, but Davik says you're out of time. It's all or nothing now. Davik can't have people thinking they can take his credits and not pay him back."

"But I don't have that kind of money!"

"That's too bad for you, human," the alien brute growled, stepping forward. "Davik will want a personal meeting with you to determine what's to be done about your debt."

"NO! Please, somebody, help me! They're going to kill me!"

"Hey! Back off!" Avner stepped up behind the two thugs. They turned and eyed him up.

"Well, what do we have here, Barok?" The human sneered, hand straying towards the blaster at his side.

"A witness looks like," Barok growled back, lumbering forward, drawing a vibroblade from his belt. Avner doesn't let him get any closer, instead slipping under the alien's clumsy swing and grabbing his hand, grasping the blade. He gave the arm a savage twist, and a snapping pop echoed out. Barok yelped and dropped his knife, Avner catching it deftly. A sudden buzzing exploded at the base of his skull, a hidden force urging him to pivot right. He swings himself around in time for Barok's body to take the brunt of three successive shots fired by his ally. He flicked the knife forward, the blade finding its home deep in the other thug's neck, both tumbling to the ground dead.

The old man stood stock still, mouth agape, trying to process what had just happened. "I - what?!"

"Are you okay?" Avner asked, placing a firm hand on the other man's shoulder.

He shook his head, then changed his mind and nodded. "I, heh, I think, thanks to you. Those men would have killed me if you hadn't stepped in. I should have listened to my wife and never taken that loan from Davik."

"Who's Davik?"

The older human let out a long breath. "A crime lord that mainly operates within the Lower City, but his power extends nearly everywhere on Taris, it seems. And now… now I can't pay him back. He'll just send more bounty hunters after me when he finds out these ones failed."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Avner asked, feeling sympathetic to the poor man's plight. He looked like a hardworking individual who just, unfortunately, got caught up in an unhappy situation.

He shook his head. "You already helped me by saving my life. I couldn't ask you to spare me a hundred credits to pay my debt. I'll just have to figure something out before Davik makes his next move."

Without a second thought, the Kiffar pulled out several credits and handed them over. "This should cover whatever you owe Davik."

The man blinked in surprise, mouth flapping open and then closed. "You're giving me… Just like that! I-I don't know what to say! Thank you!"

Avner waved him off. "Don't mention it; just maybe don't take any loans from a gangster going forward."

He entered Sarna's complex and found her unit on the third floor, slipping inside the open door and finding about a dozen men and women dancing and drinking. Sarna noticed him almost immediately, darting forward to grab his hand and pull him into the center of the room.

"You made it, champion! I wasn't sure you would come!"

"I take it you saw my match?" Avner questioned playfully.

Sarna nodded enthusiastically. "The way you shot Twitch while on your back! I've never seen anything like it!"

"I'm glad you were entertained."

"Here, have some Tarisan ale." Sarna shoved a glass into his hands. "It's fantastic. Makes me wonder why we didn't conquer this world years ago."

"Careful, Sarna," a fellow trooper slung his arm across her shoulders. "Go too fast on that ale, and you'll pass out."

She laughed and pushed him off. Avner spent the next several hours partying with the Sith. Though while they danced and drank, Avner drifted around the room, taking note of the several suits of plastoid armor stacked in the back corner. A plan was taking shape in his mind that involved several Sith armor suits.

More specifically two.

It was the wee hours of the morning, and he was the only one awake. Everyone else was passed out in various states spread across the apartment. Some were sprawled out on couches and chairs, while others have found their home on the floor. Avner picked his way through the bodies and stopped before the discarded armor, carefully packing it away into two large canvas duffle bags he had found in Sarna's room. He hefted both packs across his shoulders and slipped out of the room, mouthing a silent sorry to Sarna as he left. He hoped she wouldn't be in too much trouble when she found out what he had taken.

The streets of Taris were nearly empty at this hour, making Avner's trip back to his and Carth's apartment quick and easy. The fewer people who saw him, the better. When he finally trudged into their room, he found Carth sitting up on one of the beds pouring over a datapad.

"Where the kriff have you been? You've been gone since yesterday!" He exclaimed, getting to his feet. Avner dumped his load on the ground and fell back onto his bed. Shavit, he was exhausted. "I thought the Sith had detained you! Seriously, where have you been?"

Avner gestured to the bags on the ground and grinned. "Getting us a way into the Lower City."

Carth glanced down at the packs and stooped to tug them open. Inside were two sets of matte black armor. Carth frowned and pulled a helmet free. "Do I even wanna know how you got these?"