No one said Sith was easy

Author's note: I own nothing. yep.

Maul lifted his head from his arms, the sheet slipping down his shoulders. There was a sound. It was soft, but he had heard it. He sighed half in annoyance, half in resentment. He would not be able to rest again until he had seen the cause, his common sense would not allow it. He indulged a moment of rebellion, enjoying the feel of the bed, then rose and slid into his robe.

It was not his master, that he sensed. It was not a Jedi, he would have felt the disturbance in the force about him. It was no droid either, he had none. The sound came again, a muffled thump. A thief? More than likely considering his current location. He had been instructed to seek challenges, a different way of training, to improve his stealth. Namely he was stalking the bounty hunters of Nar Shaddah. This had once been a bigger center of activity than it was now, but it was considered a classic home of the great vices, and it served his purpose well enough. Could this be an assassin? He smirked slightly, no, at least he hoped not, or the room had not been worth killing its owner for.
It was human, the intruder. She was bent over and nursing her injured foot. The cause of her pain was obvious, a heavy metal sculpture lay not far off, tilted on its side, its wire specked with blood. He paused, watching her back, waiting. She did not acknowledge him, even as he circled about to observe her from the front. Her hands still wrapped around her wound, a slight layer of crimson on them. Her teeth pinched her lip as she fought to keep her breaths slow and silent. Her forehead scrunched in pain… ah, there she was. In silent surprise she stared back at him.

“What, who are you?”

Maul watched her, not humoring her with an answer, curious to see if she would reveal her reasons for being here herself, before he killed her. “These rooms belong to Naggar-dest!” So she was an assassin? Painful. The trip had been a waist, he would look into the others, but if this was what he could expect he would depart before the next shuttles. Annoyed he reached out, snagged her throat with the force and pulled back his fist.

The snap ended the night’s disturbance. Lifeless the body fell to its side, hands still grasping towards the foot. Maul sighed, returned to the bedroom. Disappointment made him restless, after several minutes he rose again and donned his robes. Nar Shaddah never slept. There was somewhere he could find a distraction, he had but to look.


Ladis watched the flow with bored eyes, sore feet, and heavy wrists. She wanted to go back to the rooms, the night shift wasn’t her problem. Technically it was Lonas, and Litis, and Lauhreen’s. But they were working too.
Dagen the Hutt had decided that three for this area wasn’t enough, so one more would do. (Dagen.) she snorted, (what this block needed was more spice dealers, not more dancers.) the set up worked well, the makeshift stage was holding their weight, and the spice dealers, Nexar and Truff were working hard. It was busier than during the day of course, she might be paid better… these corner dancing jobs were the best she was deemed good for. The actual bars on Nar Shaddah were reserved for Twilik dancers, she couldn’t compete there. And though Dagen owned many of those establishments, it was well known his real money was made here, on the streets, with girls like her and spice dealers like Truff. She took another swallow of water. Litis was starting to look tired, she’d have to step in for her soon.

She saw him out of the corner of her eye, as he walked around the corner and began passing the crowd. Embarrassment threatened to overwhelm her. A Zabrak male, tall, heavily tattooed. She turned her back and cursed. Her colony was the closest of the eight to Nar Shaddah, and until now she had managed to avoid others. (Dammit!! Damn! Just two more weeks! Why couldn’t my luck have held for two more weeks!) Her dept was almost paid, so close, and now this, this pointless shame! No self respecting Zabrak would dance for a crowd high on spice, that was why Dagen had put her here. And now another was going to see her, and the word would spread… she held her head proudly. No point worrying about it. Gossip was honnorless. He would be disgusted, but he would not mention it, and there was no reason he needed to see her! The metal bands on her wrist clanged against the wall.
It seemed he had stopped to speak, although she could not see to whom. Hopefully a spice dealer, then he’d be no better than her.

... ... ...

...Maul was stunned. It had happened so quickly, a knife in the dark. The syringe still jutted from his arm, the one who had stabbed him had vanished. He cursed himself by the ancient Sith for having been caught so completely off guard. Walking into a crowd high on spice, what had he been thinking? The act had been accidental, he was sure of it. Had there been intent to harm he would have sensed it. The cold rage in his rose, he could destroy them all, should destroy them. His snarl was silent, no one saw the Sith fighting for control in their midst. This was why his master had done this, he was sure. His reflexes were still…
The room swam a bit, he held himself still, waiting for it to pass. He flung the thing from him, hardly hearing it shatter as the station seemed to tip again. Part of him was still fuming, the other was planning ahead, suppressing the rage. (Could be anything, potentially poisonous, if so it will need an antidote, medkit, where can I find a med…) fear sparked in him for a moment as the ground rushed up to meet him. The sound of his heart beating seemed loud in his ears, the colors of everything around him were blending together… no!
With a grunt he forced himself back to his feet, forced his legs to hold him. Blinded by the drug he closed his eyes and asked the force to see for him. If he could not manage this, he did not deserve to be an apprentice, he would never be a worthy Sith. Guided through cloudy perceptions he walked from the crowded passage further into the station, until it seemed there was a cubicle of sorts before him. He risked a glance with his eyes. There was. A store, but all stores here sold medical supplies.
The sentient behind the counter drew back from him as he advanced. Eyes yellow, breaths heavy, his head lowered in a purely instinctual defensive position. He knocked the extra merchandise from the counter with a fist, sending it hurling to smash against the opposite wall. The medpack opened with difficulty, a momentary doubt that his hands were stable enough to use the syringe. Success. The feel of a second needle helped to rouse him as the antidote made its way into his blood. The rest he left on the table, the sentient he choked. On a station such as Nar Shaddah, no one would care about one little death.

Weakened Maul shuddered, almost feeling the two liquids clashing in his veins. His body was betraying him again, his legs going weak, and this time he was too far gone to stop it. As his legs buckled until his cheek hit the floor he fought it, then fell still. The lights flickered, red and black sprawled limply in a growing pool of spilled chemicals faded in and out. Soft footsteps, loud in the silence, drew near.

Unseen a bounty hunter emerged from the shadows, nudged him with the tip of her boot. “Not your day Zabrak, you made this all too easy.”