A/N: The idea of a graduation exam seemed fun, plus I've poked at some game canon for down the road. Hope you catch it.

Nar Shaddaa
Black Sun Territory
3647 BBY

"Okay, you understand the mission specs, right?" Theron asked again. Fynta rolled her eyes as the two sped towards the Black Sun's territory. The thugs had managed to carve out a large chunk of the underground for themselves, and were getting more ambitious in their endeavours. Granted, that had nothing to do with their mission, but it was certainly something to keep an eye on.

"Yes, dad," Fynta replied, banking the car at an alarming angle.

Theron suppressed a sigh as he studied the map of the compound they were supposed to infiltrate while Fynta drove. They'd worked together for nearly a year now, this being her first, officialmission with Epoch. If she succeeded, Theron would be released from babysitting duty, and allowed to return his real job. The woman was a stubborn student, and being forced to live with her day and night was exhausting. She was always moving, getting into scuffles, and inciting general mischief alongside the other recruits in the SIS safe house.

"First stop," Wolfe chimed as the air car pivoted and dropped into an empty spot. Theron threw a hand out to brace against the dashboard, leaving his stomach somewhere behind them in the unorganized skylanes. The man muttered as he clambered out of the open roofed air car, ignoring Fynta's snickers.

"That was excellent." She stood admiring the shiny, red surface with hands on hips. Theron was sure the woman was being a particular pain in the ass today just because she knew how much he wanted it to be over.

"Yeah, real subtle," Theron grumbled.

He had a blaster strapped to his hip, and was outfitted with his usual array of tricks and toys, including his custom made bracers containing a pinpoint blaster, or poison dart, depending on the target. Theron also wore a thin layer of fibermesh under his shirt and red jacket, though he always hoped there wouldn't be a need to test the sturdy fabrics efficiency.

Fynta, on the other hand, wore tight, mock leather pants with a thigh holster, a white undershirt that displayed the barest peek at her tanned midriff, and an equally tight black vest that did nothing to hide the cleavage spilling out through the V-neck. Theron had protested initially, saying there was no way she could fit armor under that outfit. At least, until she'd removed the vest and tossed it to him. He'd caught it on instinct, grunting when the unexpected weight of durasteel sewn into the lining took him in the gut.

The two newcomers were immediately subjected to suspicious glares from the locals. Theron noticed someone whispering to a skinny kid, who then disappeared deeper into the Black Sun's territory. "Stay sharp," Theron murmured.

Fynta grinned, projecting an aura of casual ease. "No need to tell me. I'm quite familiar with these chakaar." Pulling a mirror from a pleasantly shaped back pocket, the woman feigned checking her make-up. Making a show of applying another layer of lipstick, she puffed out her lips to hide her words. "There are three armed men watching us over by that door. Two more in the alleyway," she said in a low voice.

Theron nodded in approval. This was a job where women had the advantage, being able to use all many of cosmetics to conceal their actions. Circling around the car, the SIS agent draped an arm around her shoulders. "I spotted another pair by that droid. They aren't exactly repairing it." He saw a twinge of a smile, she must have seen it too. Those two clearly knew nothing about droids, and if they tried to activate it, they'd blow half the block. Hopefully, he and Fynta be back at the house by then, watching it on the holonews, instead of in person.

The streets were littered with trash and the people wore thin, drawn features. Theron spared a glance at his partner. Despite her lazy gate, he could feel the rigidity in Fynta's shoulders. Her previous statement about being familiar with the Black Sun gave Theron the impression they hadn't parted ways peacefully.

Fynta tensed when a man staggered towards her, swaying with a bottle in his hands. Theron made an attempt at steering her away, but the blond tripped, pulling free of his embrace, and throwing herself directly in the path of the drunk.

"Whoa'there, lid-lid-" the man sputtered, leaning forward to squint at Fynta's chest. "Heh, not so little-lady, eh." Then he tipped forward. Fynta caught him just long enough to screech an obscenity before discarding him to the side. The man smacked into the wall and slid down, unconscious before he hit the ground.

Fynta dusted herself off and returned, casually snaking an arm around Theron's waist, and pulling him towards their target. He was immensely curious about her little display, but knew better than to ask. He'd figure it out sooner or later.

The two took a lift to the lower levels, neither of them speaking. Unfortunately, they were joined by three bulky men carrying assault rifles one floor from their destination. Without warning, Fynta grabbed the collar of Theron's jacket and jerked him against her. Theron put his hands against the wall to keep from crushing her with his weight. She pressed her lips to his, and Theron suddenly understood. It all took less than two seconds, but the men climbing on the elevator got a good chuckle at catching a young couple trying to sneak a few private moments on the lift.

"Oy, you two. Ger' a room," one of the men laughed gruffly.

Fynta peeked under Theron's arm and offered a shy smile. By then, the doors were sliding open to the floor they needed. Theron and Fynta slipped out, leaving nothing more than the image of two, faceless lovers on an elevator.

"A little warning, next time?" Theron groused, wiping the back of his hand across his lips.

Fynta snorted a humorless laugh. "Don't worry, all apart of the job." Her lips twitched into an aggravating smile. That woman is going to pass this mission, I'll be damned if I'm stuck with her another year. Theron couldn't argue with her tenacity on the job, she was good, but her social skills only had one setting. Infuriating.

A few heavily muscled men stood around a fire lit in a trash canister in front of the door Theron needed to get through. They wore shirts with the sleeves ripped off to show arms twice the size of his own, and they were covered with gang tattoos. Each wore the same haircut, shaved on the sides, high on top.

Theron paused to consider the scene, formulating a plan of how to get inside to find their target. That was his first mistake, because Fynta never paused to think. He really should have known better. When Theron turned to offer his suggestion, the blond was gone. Glancing around quickly, he spotted her staggering towards the guards, a bottle that looked suspiciously like the one the drunk upstairs had been carrying in her hand. I need to collar that woman. A shock collar. Theron halted mid-thought. No, she'd probably enjoy it.

Fynta let out a raucous laugh, tipping the bottle up to ensure her breath smelled of booze. She swayed from side to side as if drunk, catching the attention of the three men blocking the door to the Black Sun's headquarters. Theron crossed his arms and leaned against the wall to watch the show.

One of the men elbowed another, saying something that caused him to burst into laughter.

"Hey, you!" The third called.

Fynta straightened and stalked towards them, exaggerating the roll of her hips, further capturing the guards' attention. Then she stumbled into one of them, voice light and flirty. "Who, me?"

The men surrounded Fynta on all sides, blocking her mostly from view. Theron had seen the woman fight her way through the SIS compound after nine days of torture. These three knuckleheads wouldn't make her break a sweat. It was the first time he'd seen Specialist Wolfe truly use her sexuality to her advantage, though. She performed a lot better the field than she had in training. Theron tried not to take it personally.

The one who'd first taken notice spoke in a deep voice. "You look a little unsteady . . . need any assistance?" There was an unpleasant smile on his lips, while the other two snickered like school boys.

"Oh-no." Fynta waved at them playfully, pushing off the one she had been leaning against. "I was at my girlfriend's' place-she and her old man finally split, he was a real loser-" she teetered dangerously to one side. and one of the men slid a hand around her hip, winking at the others. "What was I sayin'? Oh, yeah. Anyway, so we were jus' celebratin' and I had to leave, they were gettin' way too wild for me."

Fynta leaned in close to the man, sounding as if she were trying to whisper, and failing. "Do you know what that many women can do, with that much booze, and a Twi'lek dancer?" The commando shook her head vigorously, braid slapping against her back. "You know what they say about those males. I'm not gettin' mixed up in that mess." There was an attempt to straighten that turned into stumble. "I've got class."

Theron's eyebrow shot up at that last remark.

The man settled his other hand on her hip aswell, turning Fynta to face him, swinging her side to side playfully. "Sure you do, hon." The other two men exchanged glances while the first coaxed more information from her. "Sounds like it might get out of control . . . er, where did you say this was taking place?"

Fynta pointed in a vague direction, back towards the elevators, then doubled over like she was going to vomit. The guy yanked his hands away, and the others recoiled. "We'll look into this. Make sure no one gets hurt," the first assured.

All three men took a step back and edged around the heaving woman, then starting off at a jog in their haste to find the party Fynta had promised them. Theron perched against the wall, completely ignored, until the guards vanished from sight.

"That was . . . unorthodox," the SIS agent commented as he joined his partner.

Fynta straightened with a grin, chucking the bottle into the fire. "It worked," she protested. "I thought I was quite convincing."

"That you were," Theron agreed. "Do you know where you sent them?"

"Nope, but hopefully we'll be out of this place before they return." She paused to look up at Theron, arching an eyebrow. "Would you rather I have just shot them? It would have saved time."

"Don't be a smartass, Wolfe," Theron grumbled, motioning for her to get inside.

"Of course not, that's your job." Fynta stuck her head through the doorway, looking side to side, before casting a glance over her shoulder. "Shall we?"

The inside of the headquarters was no cleaner than the slums outside. There were no guards in sight, but judging by the number of dark hallways reaching out in different directions, this was going to be far from easy. "So, which way?" Fynta asked.

Theron pulled up the schematics on his datapad and nodded to the left. "According to intel, our guy is down there."

Fynta glanced over his elbow, her expression serious for a change, then nodded. "Then we should take the right."

Theron balked as the woman headed down the opposite hallway. "Where are you going?" He hissed, jogging to catch up. "Intel says he's down that one." Theron waved his hand behind him in furious circles.

"Yes, it does." Fynta slid her eyes over to him. "When was the last time you received accurate intel?"

Theron growled, but he couldn't refute her claim. The SIS was notorious for bad intelligence, simply because to took so long to put an op together. By the time everything was ready, things had changed. That's why they needed soldiers like those forming the new ghost squads. Individuals who were trained for the black ops missions, but could operate outside of Republic law. Soldiers who could go places the bureaucrats couldn't.

They traversed the rest of the way in silence until Fynta found a door that was bolted shut. Her commando training had taken over, making her more aggressive. The woman leaned back and put her boot to it twice, tearing the obstacle from its hinges. Inside sat the scientist they were looking for, bound to a chair and gagged, with a single flickering light above him.

Theron rubbed his forehead, shutting his eyes to the arrogant grin he knew Specialist Wolfe would be aiming at him. He was never going to hear the end of this.

"Guess they didn't find the party you promised," Theron complained over the din of blaster fire.

Fynta held the scientist down behind some crates while she fired her blaster at the guards. The shabuirs had returned sooner than expected, leading Fynta to the conclusion that she really should have shot them to begin with.

"Got any other brilliant schemes, Wolfe?" Theron was across the hall, returning fire from around a doorframe. He scored a hit on one of the gangsters, and ducked back into the room to reload.

Meanwhile, Fynta pushed the scientist against the wall with her knee, using her body to shield his. The man had been through enough trauma, he didn't need an extra hole in his body. He was a simple pharmaceutical guy. No doubt the Black Sun wanted him to spike their narcotics, probably spice, since that seemed to be the drug of choice these days.

"These mir'shebs are getting on my shabbing nerves," Fynta griped. She looked down at the scientist cowering at her feet, a man in his fifties with a receding hairline, and more wrinkles than she expected for his income level. "Don't move." He shook his head quickly, loose flesh shaking under his chin.

Fynta vaulted over her shelter, ignoring the shout of her name, as she ran at the remaining guards. Both stopped firing, staring at her stupidly, until Fynta was on them. She jumped, planting both feet in the closest man's chest. When she landed on her shoulder, Fynta growled at the pain that shot into her jaw and down her hip, but kept her aim steady as she put four bolts into the torso of the other guard.

Theron ran up behind her, hooking a hand under Fynta's arms, and hoisting her upright. "That was stupid, Wolfe," he growled, taking aim at the stunned man lying on the floor.

Fynta forced the barrel of Theron's blaster down, stepping between him and the guard. Before he could ask what she was thinking, the commando squatted to look the guard in the eyes. He was clutching his chest, eyes wide as he stared at the pistol in her hand. Snapping her fingers, Fynta pulled the guy's attention to her face. "The Red Hulls send their regards." With that, she flipped her blaster around to club the man over the head.

Theron had his arms crossed when she stood to retrieve their objective. "Clever," he admitted, albeit, grudgingly. "You just made this look like a rival gang attack."

Fynta hoisted the old man to his feet and almost carried him out by his collar. "Need to make it look good, right?" The man didn't complain, just scuttled along plaintively.

The SIS agent fell in beside her, throwing a sidelong look her way. "The Red Hulls?"

Fynta shrugged. "It was the first name that came to mind."

After delivering their target to safety, and sitting through a shabbing four our debriefing, Fynta flopped onto her bed in the tiny room supplied by the SIS. Her armored vest still hung from one shoulder simply because it hadn't immediately fallen off when she'd unbuttoned it. Giving a half hearted twist, the garment finally clunked to the floor. Fynta shut her eyes and buried her face into the pillow with a heavy sigh.

Someone knocked on her door. Fynta ignored them. Within a minute, the door slid open, and Theron Shan let himself in. "You should lock that, you know."

"It was," Fynta growled into her pillow. Rolling onto her side, she propped her head on one hand to look up at the SIS agent. "What do you want, Shan?"

The man dropped a black bag on her desk, some sort of gear from the looks of it. "Your graduation present. I'm leaving first thing in the morning for Coruscant to explain why I've been dark for the last eight months." He crossed his arms and smiled. "I thought I'd drop this off as a peace offering."

Fynta pushed off the bed and snatched the gift off her desk, watching Theron suspiciously. Inside, she found a new datapad-top of the line too, a slicing kit, and an old fashioned lock picking set. The sentiment behind the token was almost heartwarming. Granted, she planned on sweeping every piece for bugs.

"You know, Shan," Fynta began, looking up from the items in her hands. "You're sometimes a decent human being."

The SIS agent held up his hands and back towards the door. "I'm flattered an all, Wolfe. But it would never work." He ducked out the door, vanishing from Fynta's life just as abruptly as he'd come into it.

"Mir'sheb," she muttered with a subdued grin. She'd passed the test, making her an official member of Epoch.

Fynta tossed the kit back on the desk and flopped back on the bed, throwing an arm across her eyes. Great, now I'm a shabbing SIS soldier.

Mando'a:

chakaar [chah-KAR] corpse robber, thief, petty criminal - general term of abuse

shabuir [SHAH-boo-EER] extreme insult - jerk, but much stronger

mir'sheb [MEER-sheb] smartass