1.

"Cheater!"

"Lady," Atton sighed as he stared down the Rodian who was pointing accusingly at him, "If I could cheat half as well as you seem to think I can, do you think I'd be sitting in this scummy little cantina?" He gestured to the sticky floor stained with what he was hoping was juma juice. "Really?"

The Rodian narrowed her large black eyes as her snout bent into a scowl. "If you're not cheating, you have a remarkable amount of luck, Human."

"What can I say?" Shrugging helplessly, Atton began to collect his winnings from the dented durasteel table. "I can't help it if I was born lucky." Despite the smile that he plastered on his face, something in his gut sank as he tucked the credits into his pocket. Luck, the Force… whatever you wanted to call it… hadn't been with him in a long time.

Still scowling in annoyance, the Rodian continued to glare at her pazaak opponent as he strode away with a roguish swagger. "You should be careful, Human," she warned. "Not everyone is as trusting as me."

Straightening the collar of his shirt, Atton cast a final smirk over his shoulder. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I can handle myself." His hand drifted casually towards the blaster pistol holstered at his hip, lingering there for a moment in warning. Force willing, he wouldn't have to use it.

Even as his fingertips brushed the cool grip of the pistol, his attention drifted to the lightsaber hilt clipped to the back of his belt and hidden beneath the thick material of his jacket. While a discerning eye might catch the bulge of a concealed weapon, it was easy enough to excuse as a hold-out blaster for emergencies. A simple subterfuge made more convincing by the fact that he hadn't actually drawn his 'saber in over a year. Despite this, the hilt was a comforting weight pressed against the small of his back, reminding him of better times.

Times when he could have been a hero.

Spitting a few final curses in her native language, the Rodian made an obscene gesture as she watched Atton walk off with the last of her credits. Luckily, or perhaps unfortunately, most of her words were drowned out by a loud boom that echoed from the walkway just in front of the cantina. Whatever caused the sound was powerful enough to shake the thin walls of the rundown establishment, causing the floor to vibrate beneath the patrons' feet. Atton instinctively crouched closer to the ground, using his arms to steady his balance as his hands balled into fists. "What the hells?" he wondered to himself, even as a second blast rocked the cantina once more, this time sending out a sonic screech that made his ears ring and his hair stand on edge.

Many of the patrons were already panicking, racing for the exit as the bartender struggled to keep the crowd from trampling each other. Their emotions were a rising tide of fear and anxiety that rippled through the Force, creating a low buzz just beneath Atton's skin. He shook off the feeling as he pushed his way through the increasingly-desperate crowd, finally locating the Twi'lek waitress and pulling her aside.

"What the kriff is going on?" Atton demanded, brow furrowing in alarm.

"How should I know?" The waitress tugged her wrist out of the Human's grasp with and annoyed scowl, though the expression faded to one of horror as the boom of another explosion filled the air. "I just work here… and I'm sure as hells not getting paid enough!"

With a sigh, Atton let the woman flee as he considered what to do next. Whatever violence was erupting outside was certainly none of his business. It was probably just another 'friendly disagreement' between the Hutts and the Exchange, or a bounty hunter getting too enthusiastic about catching their quarry. For a moment he considered sitting down and ordering another damn drink with his recently-won credits, but that idea evaporated as a wave of sheer agony crested through his mind, knocking the breath from his lungs and causing his knees to go weak.

The Force throbbed with a mounting storm of pain and terror, the sensation a sign that the situation beyond the cantina was far worse than a few criminals having a shoot-out over their territory. Pushing his way through the crush of sentients, Atton managed to reach the door just as several patrons who had fled outside suddenly stumbled back in. One Weequay was clutching a blaster bolt wound in his right side, limping along with help from an Aqualish who rasped out, "A group of Humans is throwing grenades and firing on anything that moves. They don't care who's caught in the attack… I even saw a child…"

Atton's resolve to remain uninvolved suddenly evaporated, his jaw tensing as he shouldered his way past the confused cantina-goers. While the criminals who populated Nar Shaddaa were known for their ruthlessness, there was still a code of conduct that most of them followed. It was nebulous and morally questionable at best, and innocent civilians often became pawns in the machinations of powerful individuals. But even by those loose standards, whatever was going on outside was wrong.

Another deluge of pain ripped through the Force as blaster fire shrieked, drawing a gasp from Atton as sensation washed over him, cold and cloying. Pushing his way to the door, he fumbled a bit as he drew his pistol, the grip feeling awkward and off-balance in his hand. But no matter how wrong it felt to use the damned thing he was sure as hells going to try because there was no way that he could just sit back and let this type of unadulterated violence unfold. It wasn't right. It wasn't the Jedi way.

But then again, he wasn't exactly a Jedi anymore.

Shaking his head to banish that train of thought Atton surged out of the cantina, blaster held at the ready as he surveyed the scene. Smoke hung heavy in the air, obscuring anything more than a meter away and making it hard to breathe without coughing. Closing his eyes, the Human took a moment to calm his mind and center himself, releasing the anxiety that was building in his chest and letting his thoughts settle into the soothing currents of the Force that flowed around him. Focus your thoughts, just play pazaak like you always do. Draw your first card, it's a three. Your opponent draws their first card, it's a ten. Gradually, he began to consciously slow his breathing as his body adjusted to need less oxygen.

No longer choked by the smoke, Atton was able to observe more of the chaos surrounding him. The bodies of the injured and dying lay scattered along the walkways, their groans almost swallowing the incessant whine of rifle bolts that were being fired by multiple figures positioned strategically along the street. They all appeared to be Human, just like the Aqualish described, each one dressed in a nondescript gray uniform that bore no markings of rank or other insignias.

But Atton didn't need to see anything else to recognize them for what they were. "Sith," he hissed under his breath as he raised his blaster pistol and opened fire on the nearest assailant.

The shot went wide, arcing over the Sith's shoulder and dissipating harmlessly against the durasteel railing that protected pedestrians from falling for hours down Nar Shaddaa's urban landscape. 'Take the greatest Jedi Knight and watch as one tries to hold a blaster as they try to hold a lightsaber…' The words of Master Kae echoed through Atton's mind as his second shot also missed. Gritting his teeth, he aimed more carefully as he fired again, focusing on keeping his hands steady rather than swinging them in time with his attacks.

Though his arms practically shook with the effort of holding them still, Atton finally managed to fire in a straight line. The bolt soared through the air before hitting its mark, striking one Sith squarely in the side and causing the man to double over in pain. A thrill of triumph warmed Atton's chest and he grinned, shoulders already tensing to fire another volley of shots. As he found his rhythm the screech of his pistol became a comfort, almost as reassuring as the steady hum of a lightsaber.

But all of the careful aim in the galaxy didn't make the Sith any easier to hit. For nondescript soldiers they were alarmingly agile, dodging behind crates and around corners with practiced precision as they continued their assault on the population. The second they realized that Atton was a credible threat they seemed to take extra precautions to avoid him and instead opened fire on any pedestrians who appeared nearby, continuing to lob grenades full of the greenish gas that filled the area with thick, choking smoke.

"Move, you schutta! Before you get yourselves killed!" Atton shouted at a pair of Ithorians who seemed to think that they were somehow impervious to blaster fire, going by the way that they walked mindlessly into the ongoing assault. One of the individuals heeded his warning and ducked into the nearest alleyway, but the other remained oblivious to the shouts. The Sith immediately took interest in this new target and trained their weapons on the startled sentient, at least three rifles opening simultaneous fire in a hail of bolts.

Horror gripped Atton as he watched the scene unfold, and instinct took over his body as he reached into the Force and used it to physically throw the Ithorian, now frozen in fear, away from the onslaught. He watched as the stranger soared back a meter or so, hovering in the air for a moment before tumbling into a stack of plastisteel canisters. The landing probably hurt, but bruises were a lot less lethal than blaster bolts. An instant later he winced, slowly realizing that he had used his powers without actually meaning to, the desire to protect an onlooker temporarily overcoming his sense of self-preservation.

For a fleeting moment, Atton hoped that the Sith didn't notice his slip. Unsurprisingly, no such luck.

One Sith, in particular, seemed to note his Force connection, her blue eyes narrowing as she stared at him before whispering something unidentifiable to one of her associates. The next moment she trained the sight of her rifle directly on the Force user, grim determination spreading across her round, surprisingly lovely face.

As the bolts soared through the air Atton dove to the ground, years of training and Force-enhanced reflexes enabling him to tumble into a neat roll before twisting back onto his feet. But the blaster fire followed him and soon he was running for his life, multiple rifles now punctuating his every action with searing hot bolts. "What the hells?!" he yelled, his body moving with inhuman speed as he utilized abilities that he had been neglecting for over a year. Yelping in frustration as a shot nicked his heel, he threw his pistol to the side as he reached beneath his jacket, quickly drawing his lightsaber from its hiding place.

Despite the time that had passed the hilt felt wonderfully familiar in his palm as he ignited the plasma with a cocky flick of his thumb. The yellow blade appeared with a snap-hiss, illuminating the area as Atton stopped running and turned to face his assailants. While his cover was now officially blown, he was pretty sure the Sith had figured things out before he drew a Jedi's signature weapon. Besides, he had been keeping his lightsaber in reserve for when he had no other options and he had definitely run out of other ideas.

Rusty as he was, Atton deflected the first series of bolts with relative ease, his body naturally falling into the rhythm of Soresu. It was one of the first forms he had learned on his path to becoming a Sentinel and was still the fighting style that he fell back on most often. Old Kavar would probably be proud… Grimacing at that memory, he deflected two more bolts before breaking into a run, his muscles beginning to burn with exertion. Now that he was tiring he could feel even more pairs of Sith eyes watching him, the sights of their rifles tracking his every movement. That urged him on, keeping his legs propelling him steadily forward until he could skid gracelessly down a side street.

Now fleeing blindly, Atton managed to vault over a pile of plastisteel bins, using a Force push to tumble them in his wake. The soles of his boots scraped loudly as he veered around a narrow corner, the sound almost enough to drown out the panicked thumping of his heart. His biological control was slipping, his lungs and muscles now screaming for oxygen as he began to pant. Despite his efforts to regain control, his mind was too clouded with icy fear to properly clear his thoughts and refocus his breathing. As he raced down an alleyway that was little more than a narrow ledge overlooking the many levels of Nar Shaddaa, he looked around and realized that his only escape route was blocked by a large building. "Kriff," he wheezed, his body tensing with dread, "It's a dead end."

Glancing frantically at the surrounding area, Atton desperately searching for something, anything, that could keep the Sith off his tail. Maybe there was a crate to hide behind or a way to scale the wall, or…

"I guess your luck finally ran out, Jedi." A pair of steely blue eyes stared at the Force user from behind the protective visor of a breath mask. Her rifle was grasped with practiced ease, the muzzle aimed directly at her quarry's heart.

Forcing a grin that felt more like a grimace, Atton couldn't hold back the bitter laugh that escaped him. "Sweetheart, I haven't been a Jedi in a while," he replied as he carefully raised both hands and powered down his weapon.

Eyes flicking towards the lightsaber hilt still clutched in the man's grasp, the Sith snorted. "Really? Could have fooled me." Her finger twitched on the trigger. "Now, are you going to come quietly, or are you going to keep causing a scene for all of these innocent people?"

Anger froze in Atton's gut, and his hand clutched his 'saber harder. "I'm not the one who caused this mess! This… this kriffing slaughter." He jerked the powered-down weapon towards the woman. "This was all you. But that's all the Sith are, isn't it? Just death and suffering that you blame on others. The Mandalorians, the Republic…"

"So, I guess we're doing this the hard way," the Sith sighed as she watched the Force user rant at her. Without shifting her attention, she called, "Knock him out!"

An instant later the rest of the squadron seemed to materialize out of the darkness, their presence somehow hidden from Atton until this moment. As they appeared their rifles and grenade launchers let loose a sudden cloud of sizzling electric bolts and choking green gas. Upon realizing that the goal was to stun him, Atton ignited his lightsaber and redoubled his efforts to deflect the shots. But it was hard when the air around him was causing his eyes to water and his throat to burn as he gagged on the toxic fumes. Draw your second card, it's an eight. Three and eight are… are... No matter how hard he tried to clear his mind and regulate his breathing or to drive the Sith back with a single push, panic and exhaustion overwhelmed his connection to the Force. It was as though the Force was taunting him, lingering just out of reach when he needed it most.

It was hard to tell what knocked Atton down. It may have been the gas that made his chest burn with poison or the bolts that struck his limbs and caused his muscles to seize and twitch. Either way, it only took seconds for him to fall to the ground, his lightsaber slipping from his fingers and sliding across the walkway. The last thing he saw as he lost his battle with unconsciousness was the Sith's sparkling blue eyes as she stared calmly down at him.

Author's Notes

Thanks for Reading! Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome.

1. The story title and the chapter names all come from the Coheed and Cambria song "The Dark Sentencer."

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