Hello again my loyal readers! I'm back with another chapter of this story you've all come to love. It's been hectic this last week, but I've managed to catch up on my writing, all while planning the season for my travelling show AND working on a couple vehicles. Whew. I hope you enjoy this latest installment, so let's jump in and hang on!

Drakken was fuming. He had almost thoroughly convinced himself that he was still angry about being cuffed to the pipe in that small room. Yes, that alone had angered him for reasons he couldn't comprehend. The fact that the seditious gangsters had threatened Zala was just icing on the deadly cake. He clamped his gloved hands harder on the ship's yoke. Latoure was going to pay dearly for his crimes against the Empire, then pay extra for trying to kill them. There was a bump in the back of the small transport ship. Drakken didn't bother to look back to see what Zala was doing to the hoodlum they had tied up back there.

"Like, I'm giving you ten seconds to tell us where your boss is…" Veruna's voice screamed from the cargo bay. "…then I'm taking off every one of your fingers and toes. How does that sound?!" Drakken almost felt sorry for the arms dealer restrained in the back…almost.

"I don't know…I swear…I swear on my mother I don't know…" He quaked.

"Five seconds!" Zala screeched. "Babe! Hand me your gutting knife. I'm about to go to work on his skeezy ass!" Tharcourt sighed, unsheathed a hunting knife on his belt and reached it, handle first, to the back.

"No, no! I don't know where he is, but I know where he goes! I'll tell you his haunts!" The man exclaimed. Drakken flipped the knife back around and placed it back in its sheath. Zala leaned in close.

"You had better start totally confessing the world, scuzzball." She growled.

Tharcourt stopped the ship just down from the building. He shut down the engines, and drew a breath through his cigarra as he stared intently at the front of the drinking establishment. Veruna crawled into the cockpit from the back, and slinked into the seat next to him. She plucked the smoldering tube of tabac from his lips and took a small drag, then stuck it back in his mouth. He took another pull from it, then callously dropped it onto the metal floorboard of the cockpit and crushed it out with his boot.

"This is the place then." He stated.

"If our willing accomplice back there was telling the truth, Latoure owns that little dive." Zala replied. She slid down lazily in the chair, until her back was laying on the seat, and stuck her feet up over the dash, the soles of her sandals pressed against the windscreen. With a satisfied "Hm", she began examining her pink fingernails. "He has several businesses he uses as fronts for moving arms, selling equipment and staging his soldiers. Latoure might not be in there, but this is a good place to start."

"Think he's telling the truth?" Drakken asked, jabbing a thumb toward the cargo bay where the leader of the arms dealers was thoroughly tied up. Zala smiled.

"About that? Tshh…yeah." She returned. "I think he wants to keep his organs where they are for now. Besides, I'm trained to tell if someone's lying." Tharcourt frowned.

"You missed that with the bossman."

"Eat me. He had better training than I did." Zala pouted. "So, how do you want to do this?"

"You're giving me the lead?"

"Isn't this like…your element?" She said back with a grin. "I'm just a spy. I brought you in because you can totally clear a room full of geeks in like four-point-five." She reached out and ran her left index finger along his right hand softly. "And you look amazing doing it, babe."

"Hn. I think we should walk in the front door, and order a drink." Drakken said. Zala stopped caressing his hand and stared at him as if he'd gone mad. "Yep. We walk in, order a couple of ales, and ask if the boss is in."

"You know that's insane, right?"

"How many people are in there?" Drakken asked back. "Civilians, I mean? The place looks packed. If a clambake breaks out, it's going to be pure chaos. You think his goon squad is prepared to deal with that?" Veruna chuckled.

"Okay, I feel you." She nodded. "Then what?"

"If he's in, we use pandemonium as an ally to get back to him. He has a lot of muscle, but without him, they'll disappear into the underbelly."

"Cut the head off the serpent…" Zala muttered. "I like it, sweetie."

"Well let's go." Drakken said. "One more thing…grab about two thousand credits before we go in." He cocked his head a little. "And a couple more more blasters." He shot her a small smile. "Call it…insurance."

They entered the club, and were met with loud electronic music and an almost disorienting pulse of dancing light. At least three-dozen patrons danced in the dim room, and half again that number were seated at benches and tables around the floor of the club. Drakken and Zala made their way to the long bar at the back of the room, and sat side-by-side on two stools. The bartender, an Aqualish male in a shiny grey and black vest, took their order and poured them two mugs of ale. As they took their initial sips, a Kiffar woman sidled up between them and held out some small, glowing rods.

"Hey…you two want to buy some death sticks?" She asked. Drakken turned his head toward the woman with the facial tattoo and smirked.

"Nah. I already smoke and drink. Can't afford any more habits." He stated. Zala giggled as the woman walked away to find more promising customers. He motioned toward the bartender. The being nodded.

"The boss here?" Drakken asked. "We're supposed to meet him." The Aqualish stopped dead for a moment. "Yeah, I know…it sounds strange. If he's here though, tell him the two rats from the warehouse are here to see him. He'll know who we are, I promise." Drakken raised his glass in a toast, and the bartender hurried out from behind the counter. Zala leaned in close.

"I hope you know what you're doing." She said in a low voice. "I got a feeling this is about to get majorly intense."

"One can only hope, Zala." He shrugged, and drained his mug. A moment later, a man in a bespoke, purple metallic suit came walking up behind the bar, and placed his hands on the counter.

"I understand you're looking for a-the boss." He said darkly. "What do you want?"

"The boss." Drakken commented, boredly sliding his mug in small circles on the counter. He looked up at the newcomer. "And you're not him." The man didn't look too happy.

"It's my bar."

"And Latoure owns it...and you, and we're here to see the man himself." Tharcourt returned. The man in purple stood up straight.

"What if I said my employer is indisposed at the moment?" He asked. Drakken leaned back a little and scratched at his stubble.

"Then I would say go fetch the master that throws you scraps, you mangy, half-starved lothwolf." The commander said condescendingly, riling the man to anger.

"Who the kriff you think you are?!"

"We see Latoure or whatever he's calling himself." Zala demanded. The man crossed his arms.

"He's not here." Purple-man stated. "And in about five seconds, you won't be either." Drakken saw his eyes dart between them, likely to a person or persons standing behind them. Tharcourt's hands slowly clutched the lapels of his vest, slid slightly downwards, and he rested the toes of his boots on the tile floor.

"I was hoping you would say that." Drakken said. In a flash, he had drawn a blaster pistol and sent a bolt through the man's stomach. The bar owned slumped to the floor as Drakken wheeled about on his right foot, drawing his second weapon. Veruna swiveled her stool to the left, and caught a gunman's blaster in her left hand. Still on the seat, she threw up both feet and kicked him in the gut and chest, sending him stumbling back. As Drakken unloaded on the thug he was facing, Zala used her captured DH-17 on the man she had thrown off. The patrons in the cantina began to panic when the shooting started, and the floor became a writhing mass of sentients pushing and shoving. As three more armed men exited a back room and fired on the pair, Drakken and Zala made use of the bedlam.

"Into the crowd!" He urged, grabbing her by her free hand and leading her into the fray. Veruna felt like she was in a stormy ocean, being tossed about by waves and currents. She gripped Drakken's sleeve as he pulled her through the rush of people trying to exit the building. They burst through into a clearing by a pair of booths, and she spotted one of the henchmen nearby. Zala lined up her blaster's sights, and fired six times, downing him before he could get a shot off.

Tharcourt shoved a patron out of the way in time for a large man to grab him by the shirt. He recognized him as one of the men who had ran from the back room, and brought his elbow down into the man's inner arm, loosening his grip enough for Drakken to headbutt him in the face. He brought up his Westar blasters and fired both into the man's head. Another thug, an Umbaran with a heavy blaster rifle, opened fire, and Tharcourt grabbed Zala and dove to the ground, avoiding a stream of energy bolts. Drakken rolled, got to his feet and fired both of his blasters in unison, landing several hits on his attacker. Veruna hopped up and fired past Tharcourt, using eight shots to hit another gunman twice.

"What now?" She panted.

"Duck." Drakken returned. Zala dipped downward, and he fired over her head, hitting a woman with a blaster who had just emerged from the thinning crowd.

"Thanks." She breathed. He nodded. The patrons were beginning to make it out of the building now, and Drakken led Zala out as well. On the street, he started walking toward some seedy-looking gawkers, and she grabbed his arm.

"Wait…what about Latoure?"

"He's not in here." Drakken stated.

"Well, what are we going to do?" She asked. He scowled.

"Watch." He walked up to the eight humans, and spoke a few words to them. Zala watched as he took out a satchel of credits from his vest pocket, and dropped them on the ground in front of the ruffians, the small metal rectangles spilling out onto the duracrete. He motioned to the bar, and the squad of miscreants snatched up the money, and ran inside the building. Drakken returned to Zala, and nodded with his head. She followed as he walked back toward the ship.

"Drakken."

"We're done here."

"But."

"We need to find another place of his, as quickly as possible." Tharcourt explained.

"And this one?"

"Oh…I have some good people on it, my dear Veruna…" He remarked in a sly tone. They climbed back aboard the ship, and Zala plopped down in the copilot's seat. She ran her fingers through her hair, fixing it as best she could, then turned to the man next to her, who was lighting a cigarra as if nothing had just happened.

"Alright…I love this broody vigilante thing on you, Drakken." She began. "It's a total mood, but before you go acting hella cool, you do have a damn plan, right?" Drakken started the engine of the small freighter and jerked the toggle for the lift thrusters back impatiently.

"Course I do." He said emphatically. He lifted off, and made a point to slowly fly by the bar, which was now being gutted from the inside. A fire was burning on the second floor, and the hoodlums were throwing chairs, electronic equipment and glassware out onto the sidewalk in a heap of broken material. "I paid those guys to do a little demolition. In a couple of hours, there won't be a trace of this place left." Zala narrowed her eyes.

"You're calling him out." She stated. "You're totally thrashing his property to draw him into a war, aren't you?"

"Something like that." Drakken said. "Man like him, he craves order. Look at what he's built down here; he has fronts, soldiers, a network. He likes everything to be nice and orderly. He wants total control of everything. People like him can't stand one thing."

"What's that?"

"Chaos." Drakken said. "If we just try to track him, Latoure is gonna disappear. No. We're going to disrupt his little kingdom in ways that's gonna drive him crazy. He won't be able to go to ground not knowing how we're finding his hideouts and trying to figure on why we're burning them down instead of trying to find him. It's a card that don't play into his game." Tharcourt frowned, and threw the stub of his cigarra to the floor. "No imperial…Hell, no logical, sane person does something like this. He'll come for us, and when he does, we'll come out of the smoke and the pandemonium, and give him the reckoning he deserves." Zala stared at him for a few moments.

"Gods…I think I'm in love…" She commented, and started wiggling into the back through the small space between the seats.

"Interrogation?" Drakken inquired.

"Yep. Gonna pick his brain for more intel." She answered. She paused, her upper half in the back, and looked over her shoulder. "You're looking at my behind, aren't you?"

"No." Drakken said blandly, staring out the windscreen as he flew.

"You thought about it." She teased.

"Nope." He returned. She huffed, and continued slithering into the back. Drakken's eyes momentarily shot over to her, then back forward, and he smirked. Not that he'd admit it, but Zala was very attractive. Physically at least. Her personality still left something to be desired, but that was starting to grow on him too.

"You wanna tell me a bedtime story, big boy?" Veruna asked sadistically from the back. "Because I'm really excited to hear more about where your handler might be…and if you lie to me…" Drakken winced. "I'm gonna slice off your ears and send them to your kriffin' family!" She screeched. "And that will be the last they hear from you."

Tharcourt stifled a chuckle at the bad joke, and shook his head. He imagined that all ISB agents have to be this good at acting. It was part of the job, and one the woman excelled at. Zala had layer after layer of masks, and he had finally gotten to the bottom, and part of him liked what he saw. She was fiery, willful, and she lived for action and danger, but also had a kind and cheerful nature when she wasn't being so abrasive. She wasn't that much unlike Freya. He felt a tinge of guilt. If there was some way to make things work between himself and Freya, he would do it. There was too much standing between them though. Work, Duty…rules, not to mention that he still felt that they were good friends, and pushing their relationship beyond that may end up ruining the amazing thing that had developed between them.

"Good…" Zala said from the back. "You get to live for now, traitor." Drakken scooted aside a little as she wiggled back into the cockpit. She crawled into her seat, and propped her knees up on the console panel.

"Alright babe, we have a destination." She spoke. "A warehouse on level twelve-eighty-seven. Thirty-thousand block of the red district."

"Another warehouse?" Tharcourt returned sourly.

"Like, afraid so bae." She returned. "This one, Latoure uses as a repository for stolen Imperial weapons. He ships them out to, like you know, his dealers and to prospective clients. You wanted something big, right?" Drakken gave a brief smile.

"And you got me something big." He said. "Alright kitten, let's do it."

"Rawr." She sounded with a playful grin.

The warehouse was indeed full of weapons. Dozens of crates of them were stored in the building, along with six ion engines for Imperial TIE fighters. Neither of them doubted that the weapons they bought earlier that night originated from this place. Unfortunately for the rogue ISB agent, there were only four armed guards at the facility, which were easily delt with by Tharcourt and Veruna. After the gunmen were eliminated, the crony over the warehouse was easy to crack. He revealed several key pieces of information, including that the manifest in the storehouse was brought in by a small shipping company on the same level.

A call to ISB and some creative digging by Veruna revealed that the company had been bought three months prior by someone calling themselves 'A. Trelou'. It didn't take long for them to put two-and-two together. The manager of the warehouse was left tied up and gagged in his own speeder for ISB. Before they left, Drakken showed Zala a creative way to use heating coils and thermal detonators as a primary charge to ignite the rhydonium fuel stored for the TIE engines. As they flew away, the warehouse detonated in a spectacular fireball seen for four levels.

"Where did you learn all of this stuff?" Veruna queried as they made their way to their next destination. "I know they don't teach that in academy." Tharcourt was silent a moment.

"You mean the bomb…" He said in a low voice. "When I was younger…I learned how to rig explosives for maximum effect. We would hit separatist hangars and depots in the dead of night…infiltrate, and set charges on their fuel canisters and ships. We didn't have much materiel to work with, so we had to get creative. Refined rhydonium isn't that unstable. You heat it up enough, and it's a different story." Zala watched the lights of passing speeders and signs play across his face as he spoke. "Lots of ways to superheat it and rig a detonator…you know what you're doing, you can turn the whole fuel tank into a big bomb. Kaboom."

He had a grim expression, as if remembering some dark, macabre scene from his past. She softly bit her lower lip. Drakken was definitely in a mood, and had been since their capture. His demeanor at the same time thrilled her and terrified her. It was like watching some predator stealthily and coldly stalking its prey, toying with it before the kill. She wondered what a man had to go through to become this way, and how he managed to control this aspect of himself so adeptly. He continued with his narrative.

"You couldn't know, Kitten…" He muttered. "Hell, nobody could know unless they've been there…done that. The Empire has resources…arsenals and treasuries. That's not how you win a fight…not by a damned sight, and nobody gets it. When you're out in the field for that long…cobbling together weapons and eating bugs…tying rocks to sticks to bash those metal mother-kriffers into cooking pots…that's how you learn how to win a fight like this…" Zala's expression truly softened, and she reached out and placed an arm around his shoulders. She lay her head on his right shoulder, and gave him a gentle squeeze.

"Damn, Drakken…" She whispered. "That's harsh…" He took his right hand from the yoke, and placed it around Veruna.

"That's life I guess." He sighed.

"Nah babe…it was your life." She replied. "I don't think I'd want to see it, not even if it meant me being like, as hardcore as you." She gripped his free hand in hers. "Like…you know how they say everything has its price?"

"It does." Drakken said, a hint of anger to his voice.

"Well…" Zala continued, "…maybe some things are too damn expensive." He scoffed lightly.

"Yeah…you got that right." He let out a sigh. "You know something…you're a pretty decent human being when you're not being such a virago."

"Ehhh…you were right. I'm a bratty, spoiled rich girl…" Zala admitted. "I'm used to getting what I want."

"What is it you want?" Drakken asked. "In this life?" She huffed.

"I dunno…" She admitted. "And I don't wanna hear any deep philosophical parp from you about it. Don't even go there."

"I think you just like chasing the rancor." Tharcourt mused. "You just have to have some danger in your life. It fills that void, doesn't it?" She broke their embrace, crossed her arms over her chest and stared out her side of the cockpit.

"Yeah well…whatever…you're so hella smart…you've got me totally figured." She wiped a tear from her right eye.

"No…" Drakken said. "I don't. But we're not that different, I don't think." There was a long silence, and Zala hated it. The mood had gotten so dark, and she had to do something to lighten it.

"Yeah…" She finally said. "We're both total hotties." Drakken gave her an annoyed glower, then broke out in a snicker.

"You just can't help yourself, can you?"

"No, not really." She answered, then looked out the windscreen. "Hey, we're almost there."

"Yep." Drakken muttered, and landed the ship. He stared at the building so hatefully, Zala thought it was going to spontaneously combust.

"You're still majorly peeved about what happened in the warehouse, aren't you?" She asked.

"I don't get captured." Tharcourt stated. "I don't take well to people who like to start wars. And nobody threatens my people." He looked at Zala. "I don't care who he was or what he might have done before he went rogue, but Latoure done signed a check his ass can't cash." He threw open the side hatch. "Now let's go bounce it on him."

Like they expected, Latoure wasn't in the office of the shipping company. In fact, there were only two people in the office that late at night. With some encouragement from Veruna and a staring match with the business-end of Drakken's blasters, they admitted that they worked for the criminal overlord. Neither knew where to find him, but they were able to give the Imperial agents the name and location of a shady pawnbroker who fenced stolen weapons, antiquities and jewels for Latoure, as well as the location of one of his safehouses, where one of the men had met with Latoure himself a couple of times. Satisfied with the lead, Tharcourt rigged all of the small freighters at the company with thermal detonators, all daisy-chained together with a few in the office. After giving the two men front row seats to the monumental destruction of the business, they dropped the conspirators off on the steps of a local police headquarters, tied up with lengths of cable.

The pawnbroker was a sweaty, profane man who ran a large shop that looked like a disheveled second-hand store. Cuffed and questioned, he refused to cooperate. Drakken and Veruna began smashing everything in the storefront, and Veruna finally dragged the broker into a back room. Drakken helped himself to a few blaster pistols as screams poured from the storage room. He finally stopped and made a sour face. He hated even the idea of torture, and even though, in his eyes, these men had well earned whatever punishment was due to them, he couldn't help but cringe at the thought of what Zala was doing to the pawnbroker in the back.

He didn't hold it against her, and knew that this was just another terrible outcome of violence, a subservient evil to the greatest one of all, the one he had fought his entire life to be rid of; war. She wasn't like Raliss. That woman hurt others for her own enjoyment, and often for no real purpose. Veruna seemed to use it sparingly, and to mostly use threats and terror to interrogate captured foes. To her, torture was just another tool in a tool kit, a means to an end, an obligatory part of the job. Drakken felt that he still could never engage in torturing someone, at least unless it was a matter of life and death. He watched as Veruna dragged the bound man back into the shop. The pawnbroker had a few cuts on his face, and was limping, but looked otherwise uninjured.

"Now…" Zala ordered, dropping the man to the floor. "…since we've had our little heart-to-heart, why don't you tell us what you know?"

"Yeah…okay…" He panted, and looked at Drakken. "Just don't let this crazy schutta around me anymore."

"Done deal." Drakken said coldly. "What do you know?"

"I don't know his name, okay?" The man confessed. "All's I know is I get stuff…high-end stuff. Weapons, electronics, old…old junk. Some of it is sold to a few regular buyers. The rest is sold to anybody with the bread to buy it. The cartels…the gangs…bounty hunters, whoever. I get ten percent, alright? That's all I do is sell on commission. I don't know this La-toe fella or whatever, I swear."

"You said you get ten percent." Drakken said. "Is that in credits?"

"No. I gotta put the creds into a bank account or two, then I get my cut." Zala and Drakken exchanged a brief glance, and she hopped on the terminal at the counter.

"What's your passcode, sleazeball?" She shot.

"S…seven-nine-oh-three." She typed this in, and quickly accessed the customer account information. She scrolled through files until she came to three accounts inside one file.

"Lemme guess…high roller." She sighed.

"Yeah…that's him…that's the accounts I put the credits in. I'm supposed to alternate a'tween them every time I sell something."

"Hey babe, listen to this." Zala called to Tharcourt. "New Horizon Inter-system Holdings…NHIS…looks like a property acquisition firm. Armsreach Hardware LTD. Then there's this one; Black Nebula Corporate Liaison Group. The hell is this?"

"They could just be fronts." Drakken said. "Shell companies…or he could be up to something bigger than you thought."

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"Buying property? He wants his own empire, right? He's probably buying up real estate all over the galaxy to grow his operation. I bet Armsreach Hardware is just a code-name for his weapons business, and the last one is kind of spooky."

"A corporate liaison company?" Zala queried. "Why?"

"What kind of organizations could a man like him be bringing together for cooperation?" Her eyes widened a moment.

"He's trying to take over the entire kriffing underworld." She said. "Bringing like, all of the criminal ops together."

"Maybe." Tharcourt nodded.

"Geez, can you even comprehend what that would mean?" She squeaked. "The Hutts, the Zygerrians, the Black Sun…the Pikes…"

"All working with or for that elitist bastard." Drakken stated.

"I'm sending this up the pipe." Zala said.

"Wait. If you're going to report it, why not have a little fun at Latoure's expense while we're at it?" Tharcourt suggested. "Hit him where it hurts." Veruna grinned evilly.

She contacted ISB, and reported most of what they had learned, and what they suspected about Latoure's master plan. Then, she had ISB's Financial Observation Department tap into the three accounts. They reported growing deposits over the last four months on all three, and several major purchases from the first, including several buildings on worlds in Hutt Space, as well as a small spaceport in the outer rim.

"What would you like us to do, ma'am?" The woman at the other end of the call asked. Zala shot Drakken a brief smile.

"Freeze all of the accounts." She replied. "Lock them all down, and temporarily seize all property bought by them in the last one-hundred-and-twenty standard rotations."

"Verification code?" The operator asked. Veruna grinned.

"Hopscotch."

"The accounts will be suspended within one hour, Major. Thank you for calling ISB Financial Department."

"No…thank you, sweetie." Zala returned, and shut off her device. She turned to Drakken, who was spinning a blaster from the shop to test its balance. "Now what?" He yawned.

"Let's call it a night." He answered. "But first I'm going to call the police."

The pawn shop erupted in fire, the owner rubbing his head forlornly as he watched from the sidewalk as his business went up in smoke. Tharcourt and Veruna flew off, leaving the pawnbroker to his consequences. Veruna got the idea to switch vehicles in case they had been spotted, so in a large parking garage on an upper-level, they transferred all of their boxes and supplies into another small cargo ship. There, Drakken found a call-box, and contacted the Coruscant Police Force.

"What is your emergency?" The operator asked.

"There's…oh void, it's horrible." Drakken began, playing the part of a frantic caller. "These guys…they're killing them!"

"Who is killing who, sir?" The operator pressed. Tharcourt gave the address and level of the safehouse owned by Latoure.

"These guys are killing the whole family…oh kriff, the blood…it's…they have blasters…they're in the house!" Then he abruptly ended the transmission, knowing the police would send a tactical team to the building, and probably destroy half of it looking for the poor people being murdered there. Satisfied, he returned to the ships. There, the ISB agent asked what they should do with the arms dealer.

"Want to tie him up for the field agents like we did the other ones?" She asked. "Or should we just merc him right here?" She added, giving the man a sadistic grin.

"Zala." Tharcourt said tersely. He sighed, and looked at the criminal. He pulled the gag from the man's mouth.

"Don't kill me!" Their prisoner begged. "Come on…I don't even like that shady freak, alright? He smells like pomade and bad mojo."

"How did you start working for him?" Drakken asked.

"I'm an arms dealer…" The man began. "My guys and me, we trafficked stolen blasters and whatever else we could get our hands on. Then one day this upper-level bastard shows up and offers us a mint to sell a whole shuttle-full of imp blasters. He said there's more where that came from if we'd work for him. If we didn't, he'd run us out of business for good. The Hell was I supposed to do?"

"How about like, getting a job that doesn't involve stealing from the Empire, genius?" Zala commented.

"Yeah, sure lady. It isn't that easy to find employment down here. Your kind and loving Empire is the reason so many of us are doing stuff like this." He snorted. "Besides, it was a decent job, and it paid the bills and put food on the table…before Latoure came into the picture." He kicked the wall of the ship. "Now I'm gonna spend the rest of my life in a void-damned prison somewhere…probably mining spice at blaster-point till I drop dead. Perfect, eh?"

"You did aid a traitor…" Veruna began, but Drakken held up a hand to silence her.

"What would you do if you weren't under arrest?" Drakken asked. "Go back to that manic and ask for seconds?"

"Hell no!" The arms dealer exclaimed. "I'm done…finished with people like that. If I had my druthers, I'd just go back to selling old Clone rifles on the street for drinking money. It's safer that way." Tharcourt pulled out his knife, and their prisoner winced as the commander knelt down. Tharcourt merely cut the cords binding the crook, and stood up.

"Get the Hell out of here." Drakken stated.

"Wh…for real?"

"Yeah, get gone. Disappear." Tharcourt said coldly. "Before I change my mind. We see you again, you're spaced." The man got to his feet, and staggered out of the ship.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…sure…I'm gone." He stammered. "You ain't seeing me ever again, pal." He broke into a hobbling run out of the parking garage, throwing a final "Thank ya!" Over his shoulder as he sprinted off. Zala stood with her hands on her hips, an exasperated expression on her face.

"And why…exactly did you just do that, Drakken?" She asked crossly.

"What? Let him go?" He answered. "He's learned his lesson. Besides, he was a big help."

"Like, you do know he was a criminal to the Empire…right, babe?" She sighed, shaking her head.

"So are we." Tharcourt grumbled. "I think we all are. Crooks and criminals, trying to take out the worse ones. Maybe that's why they're dead or in a cage and we're not yet." He nodded in the direction their unwilling informant had departed. "He wasn't one of the worse ones. Just some poor laser-brain trying to make it in this place." He started toward their new vehicle.

"You know I have to say something on the report, right?" Zala commented.

"Tell them he died." Drakken answered. He got into the pilot's seat and Zala into the co-pilot's chair beside him. Drakken turned and looked sullenly into her eyes. "He died during questioning. You broke him. That'll make them happy now, won't it?" She sighed, and her eyes fell to the floor.

"Yeah…sad thing is, it will." She returned. He caught her chin, and gently directed her to look at him.

"Like we haven't both broken enough laws to land us in hot water already?" He asked softly. "Our people will kill a man for spitting on a statue of the Emperor as fast as they would for him dusting a battle station. Don't think they aren't watching you as intently as they're watching me. It's not if we kriff up…not when. I think it's only when they catch us. Where do we draw the line on our…blasphemous behavior then?" Zala's lip quivered a bit.

"We just try to do our jobs…make the big guys happy…" She said. "Maybe we'll like, get to retire and sit on an ocean world somewhere."

"I don't know about you, but sitting on a beach with a guilty conscience isn't my idea of a good retirement." Tharcourt returned. Zala broke away and scooted to her side of the cockpit in a huff.

"The Empire is fragile, Drakken." She stated. "ISB sees that every day…how many enemies we have, the danger everybody is in like, all the time. It's like worms in a piece of fruit. I don't like hurting people that don't deserve it, but when it comes to like, you know, stopping terrorists from blowing up Imperial Center and stopping rebel cells before they start…" She pointed a finger at him. "Yeah, I take my job very seriously, Drakken!" He started the ship, and they began to fly through the levels of Coruscant, returning to Zala's safehouse.

"And who decides what's dangerous and what isn't?" Drakken posed.

"People smarter than us, I guess." She answered.

"Or people more powerful than us." Tharcourt said back. "I captured a group of rebels…on a ship once. My team and I. One of them was a girl, she didn't even look old enough to drink. She said she didn't know what the crew was up to, she just signed on because she wanted to fly on a ship. How about that? Some kid wanted adventure, and ended up arrested because the people around her were a bunch of pirates and she didn't even know it."

"Harsh…" Veruna sighed. "And what happened? Did a charming, kind-hearted Navy Commander help her get home? Buy her like, a nice hot meal and talk her into joining the navy?" Drakken winced like he'd been stabbed, and Zala suddenly felt bad for her comment.

"I told her to confess everything she knew." He stated grimly. "Turn over any information she had on anyone, and ask to join the Imperial Navy. I uh…I was going to back her up if I'd gotten the chance, and try to get her positioned on a ship somewhere…" He frowned. "Raliss…she tortured that little girl. Beat her, pulled out her farkin' teeth…then you…want to know what happened, Zala?" She put a hand to her face.

"No…I really don't…" Veruna whispered.

"She forced Thorne to kiss her at blaster-point…" Drakken said, his voice straining a bit. "…then made her blow that little girl's brains out all over the room." He inhaled deeply. "And Raliss was a good officer, so I hear."

"Drakken…" Veruna croaked. "That…"

"Kasa…that was her name." Tharcourt said with a nod. "Kasa…her planet was destroyed that day."

"Alderaan."

"Her family…her friends…everyone who loved that little girl, gone in the blink of an eye." He cast a glance at Veruna, and she saw traces of tears in his eyes. "At least…at least nobody lived to miss her, and wonder what had happened to her. I guess the Empire can be pretty thorough." He shook his head. "Of everyone that died on the Death Star, I'm only happy Tarkin was among them. Brutal son of a gundark." Drakken slowed, approaching their hideout. He was silent a few moments, then finally spoke again. "You know, we rigged a ship to blow, and just left it drifting once. I sometimes wonder who found it…who got obliterated when they opened the hatch to see what was going on. I was just following orders…" He turned again to Veruna. "That what you want to be? A monster that thinks it's a human because it was just following orders?"

"I…I'm not a monster." Zala returned, wiping a tear from her cheek from Drakken's story. "I just…I do my duty…and I do like, overlook things…you know, because…"

"Because you don't think everyone's evil…" Drakken interjected. "…despite what your superiors say." They landed next to the safe house, and Zala edged closer to Tharcourt, her eyebrows furrowed angrily.

"That's dangerous talk." She said. "Seriously dangerous. You really need to stop the dangerous talk."

"I'm a dangerous man, Zala…" He returned sarcastically, leaning in with a serious expression. "Or haven't your superiors warned you of that?"

"Yeah…they did." She breathed. "And I don't want you getting me in trouble, Drakken." Their faces were inches apart.

"You're already in trouble, kitten." He whispered. "You're surrounded by monsters. Monsters like me aren't the dangerous ones."

"Danger…" She whispered softly, staring into his eyes. "The only thing dangerous…is falling for a monster like you." He took her cheek in his hand, and brushed one side of her black and pink hair aside.

"Thought I would get you in trouble, Kitten…" He muttered. Her lips brushed against his. Zala's heart was pounding in her chest.

"Get me in trouble, Drakken…" She gasped, running a hand up his arm. He pulled her in and pressed his lips into hers. She gripped his sleeve tightly, and pulled him even closer. Their tongues explored each others' mouths, and she didn't want it to stop. He nibbled her lower lip, and she let out a whimper.

"Drakken…babe…you don't know…like, how long I've…wanted this…" He kissed her cheek.

"Since we met?" He asked in a low voice.

"Totally." She stated. They rested their foreheads together, and held each other in an embrace. Zala playfully licked at Drakken's ear, and he nibbled at her neck, making her giggle. She broke away and gripped him by the shoulders, a wild look in her eyes. "Babe…we have a mondo-huge bed and a set of binders. What do you say?"

"Wh…I mean...we just…" Drakken stammered. "Kitten, don't rush things. Besides, I'm tired as Hell. I think I just need a shower and some sleep right now." He smiled innocently, and climbed out of the ship. Zala crossed her arms over her chest.

"Damn it…" She growled angrily, then sighed, her lips turning up into a smirk. "I love that man…"

Drakken is committed to his job, is he not? Fun fact: Most of the stuff Drakken does when he's going all First Blood is real-world unconventional warfare (UW) techniques and tactics. Just in case any of you needed to know that stuff. *wink* AAAANYWHOOO...I've said it before and I will reiterate, I love writing Zala. She's the 90's scene girl I grew up around. In face, most of the characters, like me are anachronistically 90's in their personality and language.

Does it seem that a love triangle is in the offing? If you have any sense, Thorne's the type of caring, capable and loving person you want in a stable relationship. Zala is that super-attractive wild and crazy person you want to be around for a good time. Which one would you guys and gals go for? Let me know in your comments and PMs

Another chapter coming soon, my friends. Until then, Cheerio!