Through the hazy hues of purple that illuminated the lively clubroom floor, Ellac gazed out into the crowd of bustling patrons from his corner booth. He, turneding an encrypted datadisc in his hands. His ears rang with the clamor of a thousand conversations, the occasional clinking glass or rattling chance cube filling whatever small gaps there were between the voices.
“0-0-0, ‘Club Kasakar’,” the disc had read, denoting the location of Ellac’s last and only lead in his search for his sister.
And so here he sat, waiting for something, or someone to come across his path. His lone green eye scanned through the masses from under his raised hood, studying each face as his focus passed from person to person. It was about what you’d expect from an undercity club on Corsucant, but the fine silk robes and elegant jewelry pieces worn by a considerable portion of the patrons struck Ellac as a tad odd, resembling more closely the wardrobe of a Senator rather than that of the crimelords and off-duty soldiers he had come to expect in places like this.
A passing figure broke his line of sight into the mob, swiftly sliding something across the table to him as they dissolved into the crowd as quickly as they had appeared. Pinning the object to the table as it slid toward him, Ellac lifted his hand to reveal the code cylinder that lay beneath it. The small object was plain and indistinct, but for a single distinguishing mark near the top of the reflective metal tube: A symbol that belonged to one of the many leaders of the Hutt clans. More specifically, the one in particular who would have information on his sister’s whereabouts…
“Sohta,” Ellac muttered to himself, examining the cylinder before tucking it away into his belt along with the datadisc.
Pushing himself up from the booth, Ellac looked again into the mass of patrons. The club was packed with people and droids alike, nearly shoulder-to-shoulder all the way to the far side of the room where the main entrance of the club awaited him. Wading through the crowd, Ellac pushed his way past the crowded game tables and around the holovids of dancers that attracted more and more eyes as the night went on.
Attempting to force his way past the bar, the Ellac’s cybernetic arm shoved against the firm plating of Mandalorian armor, pushing its wearer forward against the counter as the man’s drink slipped from his hand.
“What the frak!” The Mandalorian shouted, turning towards Ellac as he rose from his barstool. “You always go around shovin’ folks around like ya own the place?” he spat at Ellac, squaring up on the one-eyed Equite. His voice was thick with a backwater twang, similar to what you might hear on an Outer Rim farm, or a small town in the dunes of Tatooine. His long bleached mullet and handlebar mustache framed his middle-aged face, complete with a three ringed ear piercing and two signature Kiffar tattoos that sat beneath his emerald eyes that glared at the young Sith.
Ellac looked up at the slightly taller man adorned in full Mando armor, painted with thick black stripes over the original metallic sheen of each piece.
“Only the people who are in my way,” Ellac shot back, matching the man’s glare.
The Mandalorian chuckled as he grabbed a rag from behind the bar, wiping the contents of his spilled beverage from his armor. “Tough guy, huh? Well partner, I take it you haven’t heard of me then… The name’s Jondar Tigris, the galaxy’s best Animal Wrangler this side of the Rishi Maze. You can call me ‘Jo’. You may have heard of my zoo before it got shut down on account of that scud-sucking Jed-…”
“I don’t care,” Ellac said, cutting him off as he turned to leave.
“Now hold on just a minute,” Jo said, tossing the rag back onto the counter. “This here armor is made of pure Beskar. Cost me a fortune to buy, and you just spilled my Blurggfire all over it, which also cost me a pretty credit, and handsome as I am, I ain’t made’uh money. So here’s what I’m thinkin’…,” he said, his emerald eyes gleaming under wild brows. “I’m thinkin’ you owe me another drink, and a spitshine on my armor… And maybe after that I can show you how I take it off...” Jo winked at Ellac who seemed unphased by his comment.
The Sith maintained his glare as he stared into the Mandalorian’s eyes. “I have a better idea,” Ellac said, reaching over to a nearby patron, plucking their drink from their hands and shoving them away as he placed the glass on the counter next to the Kiffar’s helmet. “You sit back down to enjoy your new drink comforted by the fact that I didn’t break your legs today.”
“You break my-?” Jo interrupted himself as he keeled over in laughter. Propping himself up against the bar, he gasped for breath between laughs until he could composed himself enough to speak. “Oh, oh frak, that’s the best joke I’ve heard all day… But no chance cubes, pal. ‘Jo’ Tigris has a reputation to uphold, and I’m afraid that means I can’t let you walk outta here without payin’ your dues.” Jo's mouth stretched out in feigned disappointment as he reached over to pick up his helmet.
Ellac’s hand instinctively moved toward his lightsaber, unclipping the hilt from his belt, letting the weapon hang at his side. “Remember those words when you wake up in a bacta tank.” With a snap-hiss, the red blade flashed to life, causing the nearby patrons to flee in terror from the two men at the bar.
Jo slid his helmet over his mullet, drawing his Bow Rifle from its place on his back, extending the rifle into an electro staff with a twirl.
Ellac lunged at the Mandalorian, bringing his weapon down on his opponent with unmatched ferocity. Jo raised his staff, blocking the attack, but Ellac was already in motion for a follow up strike. Sparks of light flashed out across the club as the two weapons clashed together, trading blows in a series of spinning slices and powerful thrusts.
Ellac could feel Jo’s excitement mirroring his own as they poured themselves into their attacks. The anger and bloodlust, the subtle anxious pangs as their weapons collided; The Sith drank in the rising emotions, fueling the hunger for conflict within him as he realized that this would be a fight to remember.
From the main entrance of the club, several mountainous bouncers rushed in to break up the fight, but hesitated to reach for either of the combatants, for fear of losing a limb to the blur of red and yellow energy emitting from the weapons.
