Kazdel was festering, a pit of crime and gangs lurking about. Death lingered and permeated.

Maul felt it all through the Force. The Sarkaz felt it in which the Force cried out. Disturbance, it rang.

He cared little about the plight of his new homeland in which it was death, even for its common people. Why should he? The Zabrak turned Sarkaz, where he welcomed death unto Ben Kenobi where he would see perhaps Mother Talzin, his brothers, and many of his people. Confined to Sith hell, he hoped that maybe he would even greet Sidious once his soul arrived, teeth gnashing and eyes aflame and lit up, to where he would torment Sidious there along with his brothers and mother.

Maul instead woke up in a gang in a crime festering street, not hell where he even was sure of his fate. Brother Savage he found a week later when both took their man-made weapons in the bar of their new duties and tasks as bounty hunters. Through the Force their presences latched onto each other, his arm was held onto his after Maul had disarmed him; they were warriors after all; Maul recalled his final words. They did not hug for their reunification, for their expression of their brotherhood was there, but of silent acceptance of each other as they simply ordered drinks, then left the bar, watching nightfall on the town that relished in gratuitous violence of the nation of Kazdel. A scream echoed in the distance of a crime committed. They took slow careful sips of burning intoxicants of an auburn liquid that ran down their throats.

Then, they spoke of the past.

He was unworthy, unworthy to be by his side, unworthy to be Sith, and they've both been played by Sidious. What utter fools they were. They thought themselves as the players in the field of Sidious' machinations, to try and build an empire to crush their opposition, only to discover they were just another of his pawns, the pieces of the chessboard being watched over, let loose to run free for what served their purposes, only to recognize that Sidious had allowed so, and neither of them could see it, ignorant, lost in the throes of their own insatiable bloodlust. They had acted accordingly to Sidious, killing Jedi and lashing out whenever possible as beasts let loose on their leashes, then being disposed of once Mandalore, a world of pacifism lost and violence reborn, was in their grasp, its resources allocated to them. Sidious had mockingly tormented him with images of his brother's death for months before he escaped his clutches, but all he had was lost. Mandalore's resources were his, but less than what it was before, and Maul recognized in the moments of his final moments when he found Kenobi on Tatooine that he had nothing in the end. He was just a discarded piece of the Sith, of the Clone Wars, and Mandalore's history. Sidious looked him over for Dooku and Skywalker. He was just seen as a mad beast of the Clone Wars that only his brother saw and understood him. Mandalore only remembered him for his brutal execution of its aspirant ruler Pre Vizsla; his origins not of the planet and an outsider... A footnote in the long history of footnotes. One who reigned Mandalore, and then his rule was gone as Sidious built an Empire that claimed it for himself.

Maybe that was why he let Kenobi strike the final blow even as he realized Kenobi's bait. What use was he to where there was nowhere and nothing to belong to?

Maul toyed with death himself once more, fitting for their new race that prided itself on death, just so that he would get a chance of dragging Sidious' soul through the hellfire and depths once more.

Yet brother Savage was in front of him, his flesh and blood now Sarkaz stood before them. Even through the madness that consumed him when Kenobi had sliced him from waist down, where he quite nearly took his life, he never abandoned him. By all accounts he should.

And the feeling that he had been responsible for dragging his brother into the conflict.

He embraced his new life, if not only for his brother, then what this world contained.

Always remember I am fear, always remember…

His hands raised up in a claw like grip once more. The guards stationed grasped their throats. One had at least the courage to focus through his chokehold to fire at him with his weapon, a crossbow, but it was too slow for any Force adept like Maul, who simply leaned his head to the side to avoid it. The third raised his hand to signal an alarm and shout for his companions within the stronghold, but his brother was nimble, whipping his hands in a gesture that quickly disarmed him telekinetically and twisted his neck before he could scream.

I am hunter…

The thoughts repeated in a mantra of tandem in his head. Sidious' first words to him as he indoctrinated him. Maul closed his fists and the two others joined in death.

He inhaled, exhaled, and the image of Sidious was gone, replaced by which he was reborn.

Closing their presences in the Force to which now they would carry out their tasks, they stepped seamlessly into the shadows once more.

"Shall we return, Maul?"

Not Master. Neither were Sith no longer. Just mercenary bounty hunters to survive in this equally decrepit pit of a world that was not their own, with whatever high enough pay to get them by, making a name for themselves in their town. A reputation that would grant them a level of security with their unique… Arts. With their reputation already as Sarkaz, a xenophobic hatred and fear of their new race.

Maul gazed at him with golden slits, then down to the bodies below them after the slaughter of the gang. A Sith relished conflict and challenge, but even without the use of the Force, they were feeble. He craved it, missing challenges like Pre Vizsla or even that abnormal warrior in his gladiatorial prison days at Cog Hive Seven under the name "Jagganath".

One crawled away, inching towards escape. Maul stared for a moment, then raised his hand, crushing his spine with the Force, but not killing. He cried out.

Even as a Sith long gone, Maul gains an inkling of satisfaction of dominating.

Maul had regrets. But for the Jedi he slaughtered? The crimes he committed even without Sidious' grip on him? He would laugh in their faces and scoff. Maul would regret serving under Sidious for as long as he could, but for what he had done to the Jedi? Even Tano and Kenobi lost their faith in them, and both knew it would fall. Their friend Skywalker became just another of Sidious' pawns.

He, as far as he was concerned, was just merely using the available tools in a war that there were no concepts of "heroes". Merely factions that had strength and the tools to fight against each other. Power was in his grasp.

A few Jedi, such as Revan and Bastila who fell and "redeemed" themselves were deemed as such. Maul hardly cared. The Dark Side was his companion for most of his life. It clung onto him from birth.

Maul steadily approached the survivor. Since they had butchered the group quickly, tearing through them before they had a chance to retaliate, Maul had noticed them speak in a language he did not understand as they shouted commands, barking in foreign words and tongues he did not recognize as any language he knew in his prior life.

Kneeling down to the prone survivor, he lifted him up with the Force, turning him around to face him.

The man spat a language once more he did not understand, yet the former Sith was determined to rip the information out of his mind, and so he did. The Perro, as he recognized the ears and tail above his head, spat what he was undoubtedly sure was curses, then turned into snarls as he attempted, fought the intrusive mind that invaded his own. Maul's lips curled up. Ancients, namely those who could utilize Arts, such as his prey in front of him, had at least some level of resistance to his influence of telepathy from the Force. He could feel him rebuff his attempts at probing his thoughts, but it was still weak, and his Arts was nothing compared to the Force. Maul broke through his meager defenses, diving straight for his innermost memories.

Maul continued to probe the weakling's mind. Within seconds, the man below him stopped squirming. Then, he stood, turning to Savage, his memory invasion done after breaking his neck with the Force. "Let me ask you brother, do you recall our allegiance with Death Watch and Hutts?"

The thoughts that this world was infested with gangs and other factions at play reminded him with Crimson Dawn and even Death Watch and the Hutt Clans and various other factions…

Maul recognized then and there that he did have something. Something that Sidious could never take away. Darth Maul, Sith aspirant, apprentice, and would be Dark Lord of the Sith, was gone. Maul, the leader of Mandalore, was gone.

Now he was just Maul, as he had told Ezra Bridger. Just Maul. Not Sith. Not Darth.

Maul, leader of Crimson Dawn, had also been something, but in his moment of haste and bloodthirst, gave up even that to hunt down Kenobi.

Crimson Dawn… and now… Mafioso.

At last, an exciting prospect of challenges in gangs and power play. Relishing in pitting those against each other that had brought him a level of security and a life that not even Sidious could take.

The answer came telepathically. Indeed I do, brother. What have you gathered from him? Where are we headed next?

Maul glanced at him, as the smile widened to show teeth. Siracusa is our next destination.