Whatever Eras had been expecting upon entering the Silo, it was not the sight that now lay before him. Things had only worsened since he left. He navigated through the vandalized streets, passing by makeshift market stalls and dens teeming with unsavory characters engaged in illicit activities. The stench of squalor and refuse mixed with the acrid tang of spent blaster fire.

Eras decided he would start at the King's Kath Hounds. He stepped through the doors of the infamous cantina and was greeted by the raucous chatter of aliens in various dialects, the smells of exotic foods and beverages being served, and the low thrum of live music. A haze of blue smoke hung in the air, carrying the aroma of spice and other illegal narcotics banned throughout most of the galaxy.

Scanning the room, Eras spotted a grizzled Emente bartender wiping down the counter, his multifaceted eyes glinting with a mix of curiosity and wariness. With a cautious step, Eras navigated through the maze of tables, avoiding the occasional scuffle between inebriated customers. Approaching the bartender, Eras leaned in, keeping his voice low. "I am looking for information about the Bondman's Guild."

The Emente's six eyes narrowed, assessing Eras for a moment before nodding subtly towards a secluded corner booth. Eras walked over as the bartender stayed back, continuing to serve drinks. After a while, the Emente stood back, calling for his stand-in droid. "Hey CT! I need a break. Cover for me."

"Right away sir.", the serving droid answered enthusiastically.

Making several stops to socialize with his patrons, the bartender eventually came to Eras's booth. Sliding in across from him, the Emente did not mince words. Leaning in, he spoke cautiously. "What do you want to know?"

"I want to join the Guild.", responded Eras.

The Emente laughed. "You gotta be joking or you're one engine short of a podracer." The smile left his face. "Joining the Guild is not a simple task kid," the old bartender murmured, his voice laced with warning. "You are treading into dangerous territory, friend. What makes you think they will have you?"

Eras leaned forward, a glint of determination in his eyes. "I have skills that can be of use. The Guild can provide opportunities."

The Emente studied Eras for a moment, weighing his words. "Information comes at a price."

Eras nodded, sliding a pouch across the table. The bartender's gaze lingered on the pouch before snatching it up, quickly examining its contents with practiced expertise. Satisfied, he leaned back, a grin forming on his lips.

"First, you will need a sponsor," the Emente explained, his voice lowering. "Someone who vouches for you, vouches with their life. A trusted Guild member who will put their reputation on the line."

Eras listened intently. "And how do I find such a sponsor?"

The bartender's eyes darted around the bustling cantina, ensuring no prying ears lingered nearby. "You don't find them. They find you. You have to prove your worth."

Eras sat back, processing this information. With his mind made up, he looked to the Emente as he slid out of the booth. "Thank you," Eras said, slipping a few extra credits beneath the pouch. "For your troubles."

The bartender pocketed the credits with a nod, his expression unreadable. "Be careful kid. The Bondman's Guild is not to be trifled with. Once you are in, there is no turning back." Eras nodded and walked out of the King's Kath Hounds, the lingering scent of spiced spirits trailing behind him.

Watching him leave, the Emente waited a few moments, tracing the substantial mound of credits in his pocket with his greedy fingers. He rapped the table twice with his knuckles. A helmeted patron sitting in the adjacent booth abruptly stood up, waiting for acknowledgement from the bartender. His blackened Clone armor caught the eyes of several locals who quickly buried their noses in their drinks. Motioning for the dark figure to "handle" the situation, the Emente's six eyes squinted and a wicked grin began to form as he watched him follow in Eras's direction...

...Eras's pursuer stepped out into the dimly lit street, shadowing the young man's every move, calculating and poised to strike. Eras turned into an abandoned alleyway, forcing the assassin to momentarily lose sight of his quarry. The stranger quickened his pace, rounding the corner. To his surprise, the alleyway was empty. Slowly scanning the area, he moved forward with caution. "You are obviously not a Clone.", Eras said looking down from an above support beam.

In the blink of an eye, the hunter had his blaster drawn and trained on his target with deadly precision. "And you are more than you claim to be.", answered the assailant.

Without warning, the assassin squeezed the trigger, sending a barrage of blaster bolts towards his prey. Eras dodged the incoming hail-fire, agilely leaping from wall to wall while closing the gap between them. Bringing his fist down hard with a glancing blow to his attacker's wrist, he knocked the blaster from his grasp. The armored figure staggered back, momentarily off balance.

The young warrior smashed his boot through his assailant's knee who cried out in pain as he collapsed to the ground. Eras caught the assassin's wrist as he fell.

Twisting it sharply, a rapid series of loud cracks followed by another painful scream rang out, announcing the obliteration of the attackers wrist, elbow, and shoulder all in one movement. Eras's eyes blazed as they locked onto his subdued adversary. "Who sent you?!"

Breathing heavily, the assassin refused to speak, his helmeted visage inscrutable. Then Eras saw it…On the side of the attacker's helmet, was a small symbol…the White Worm. Alarmed, Eras released his hold and stepped out of the alley lamplight, scanning the area. Noticing this reaction, the hunter gave a raspy chuckle. "You're right to be afraid. We are everywhere. You…are a dead man!", he hissed through gritted teeth.

The gang member quickly reached for a hidden blaster but froze, his eyes bulging from behind his helmet. The audibly moist crack of his trachea collapsing from an invisible enemy echoed throughout the alleyway. The last thing he saw before his eyes glazed over was Eras holding an outstretched hand towards him.

Eras turned to leave, but was stopped by the sound of an incoming alert accompanied by a flashing light on the dead gang member's wrist com. Quickly yanking the hunter's helmet Eras placed it over his head. He pressed the controls to accept the transmission.

A hologram of the Emente bartender appeared. "Grax! Did you get rid of the whelp?..." Eras simply nodded, allowing his betrayer to continue. "Good. The boss has called an emergency meeting. Ever since that bounty was put out on him, he has become more and more paranoid…". He sighed in frustration. "...I am sending the coordinates. Dispose of the body and meet me there." Again Eras nodded.

The hologram disappeared. Eras looked down at the deceased would-be assassin. "Well Grax?", he thought to himself, "You had better not be late." He began removing the dead man's armour…