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Chapter 3

It had been four weeks since Reed had started working for Brask in The Iron Rancore. And for the most part, it was a relatively peaceful routine. It was straightforward work—breaking up fights, tossing out the rowdy drunks, and making sure no one got too violent in the dim-lit cantina. Reed had no complaints. Brask paid him fairly, and the small room in the back he slept in was enough. Most importantly, it was quiet.

Though he unfortunately still had to sneak out once a week to take care of his need for biomass lost through the many fights that happened in the. Thankfully though, there were plenty of undesirables in 1313 that would not be missed if they disappeared.

For someone like Reed, staying low-key was essential. He played the part of the bouncer well—just another guy working to get by on Coruscant's lower levels, far from the attention of the galaxy's bigger problems. But the calm was temporary. Reed always knew that sooner or later, his quiet routine would get interrupted. He just didn't think it would be so soon.

The dim, neon-lit cantina of The Iron Rancore was buzzing with its usual crowd—smugglers arguing over drinks, shady figures murmuring in corners, and the occasional fight brewing over a rigged game of sabacc. Reed stood near the door, his arms crossed as he watched the ebb and flow of chaos unfold. His eyes flicked from one patron to the next, his muscles coiled beneath the surface, ready for trouble. But it never felt like enough. Just standing around. Waiting.

He shifted his weight, glancing toward the bar where Brask was wiping down glasses with his four powerful arms, his eyes occasionally drifting to Reed, as if reading the storm inside him. The Besalisk had been around long enough to spot a restless soul from a mile away, and Reed had been pacing like a caged predator for days now.

After a while, Brask waved him over. "Hey, kid. Come here for a sec."

Reed made his way through the crowd, slipping past a group of rowdy patrons and leaning against the bar. Brask set down the glass he was polishing and sized him up with a knowing look. "You've been fidgetin' like a kath hound that's been penned up too long. Something on your mind?"

Reed shifted uncomfortably. "Nah, I'm fine."

Brask chuckled, a deep rumbling sound in his chest. "Yeah, right. I've seen your type before. You got that itch, like you're waiting for something to happen, but nothing's happening fast enough." He pointed one of his thick fingers at Reed's chest. "You're restless, kid. You can't stay still. Feels like you're wasting away behind that door, doesn't it?"

Reed glanced away, jaw tightening. He couldn't argue with that. Ever since he'd started working for Brask, things had been... too quiet. Sure, he had scuffles to break up and the occasional rowdy drunk to toss out, but none of it really pushed him. Not like it used to back home. Not like what he was capable of.

"Not used to this kind of life, huh?" Brask continued, eyes gleaming with amusement. "I've seen it before. You're not just some regular bouncer, are ya? There's a predator in there." He tapped the side of his head. "I can see it in the way you move. The way you look at the crowd. Like you're always hunting, even when you're standing still."

Reed said nothing, but Brask's words hit closer to home than he cared to admit. He was trying to keep a low profile, to stay out of the spotlight, but the truth was, that part of him—the part that craved action, danger, the thrill of the hunt—was starting to claw its way out.

Brask leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice. "Look, I ain't judging. Some folks need to keep moving to feel alive. Bouncing drunks and watching doors ain't exactly feeding that hunger of yours, is it?"

Reed met his gaze, his expression hardening. "What are you getting at, Brask?"

The Besalisk grinned, flashing his sharp teeth. "I'm saying there's more out there for someone like you. This place," he gestured around the cantina, "it's a start. A good one. But you want more, don't you?"

Reed didn't answer. He didn't have to.

Brask nodded slowly, as if confirming something to himself. "You ever think about bounty hunting?"

Reed blinked, surprised by the question. "Bounty hunting?"

"Yeah," Brask said, wiping down another glass. "I've seen plenty of hunters come through here over the years. Tough crowd, sure, but you got the instincts for it. You've been watching these folks come and go. I've seen how you size 'em up. You'd fit right in, and you'd actually be doing something—putting those skills of yours to work."

Reed frowned, his mind racing. He hadn't considered it, but now that Brask mentioned it, the idea of hunting again—tracking someone dangerous, being in the thick of it—was appealing. It would be more than just standing around. But he also knew bounty hunting wasn't something you just jumped into.

"I don't know," Reed muttered. "I'm not exactly looking for attention right now."

Brask nodded. "I get that. But you can stay low and still do the job. Plenty of hunters don't advertise themselves. Hell, the best ones don't need to. They just get in, do the job, and get out. You're smart. You'd figure it out."

Reed was quiet for a moment, considering. It did feel like something inside him was being stifled, like he was holding back. The thought of breaking free from that, of putting his abilities to real use again, gnawed at him. "I need to think about it, Brask. This is a big decision." he said, leaning his back against the bar, still eyeing the cantina for any trouble.

Brask, still polishing glasses at the bar, gave him a sidelong glance every now and then, as if waiting for something.

And then the cantina doors slid open.

A Twi'lek woman walked in, her steps purposeful, her gaze sharp. Reed straightened slightly, his attention immediately drawn to her. She wasn't like the usual riffraff that wandered into the cantina. Her deep green skin gleamed in the low light, and her lekku, adorned with small metallic rings, rested over her shoulders. Battle scarred armor on her chest showed she wasn't a stranger to fighting. There was a confident, calculating air about her as she scanned the room before locking eyes with Brask.

The Besalisk grunted under his breath. "Oh boy. Here we go."

The Twi'lek made her way toward the bar, her posture controlled, like someone who didn't waste movement unless necessary. Reed watched her approach, intrigued but careful not to show too much interest. He could tell by her demeanor that she was someone used to trouble, maybe even chasing it.

"Brask," she said, her voice smooth but edged with impatience. "Still wasting away in this dive?"

Brask chuckled deeply, leaning against the counter. "What can I say, Shala? I like my peace and quiet these days."

Shala rolled her eyes, clearly unconvinced. "Peace and quiet isn't what I'd call this place."

"Compared to the old days? Trust me, this is peaceful," Brask rumbled, his multiple arms folding across his broad chest. "What brings you here, anyway? You're not exactly the 'social call' type."

Shala wasted no time with pleasantries. She reached into her belt and pulled out a small holoprojector, setting it down on the bar in front of Brask. With a flick of her wrist, a hologram flickered to life, displaying a rotating image of a fierce-looking Trandoshan.

The creature was heavily armed, covered in scars, and wore an expression that screamed dangerous. Reed's eyes narrowed as he studied the hologram. He didn't know the details, but he could tell by the look of him that this Trandoshan was no amateur.

Shala glanced at Brask as the image spun slowly. "I've got a bounty. Big one. Narga Krassk. He's holed up in the upper levels, somewhere past level 3000. Wanted by more than one syndicate, and they all want him alive. He's not going to come quietly."

Brask raised an eyebrow. "Narga Krassk? Heard of him. He's bad news. I take it you're looking for help?"

Shala nodded. "He's slippery. I've tracked him halfway across the sector, but getting him out of the underworld alive is going to take more than just me. And before you ask—yes, I know it's risky. That's why I came to you."

Brask let out a low chuckle. "You want me to run around chasing Trandoshans again, huh?"

"Don't tell me you've gone soft," Shala teased, though her tone had a hint of seriousness. "You were one of the best, Brask. You know I wouldn't come to you unless I needed someone I could count on. And you know I'll pay you good for it."

Reed listened quietly, his attention still focused on the hologram of Narga Krassk. A Trandoshan like that wouldn't be easy to bring in—especially alive. He felt a strange pull, the thrill of a hunt starting to build in his chest.

Brask glanced at Reed, clearly noticing the look in his eyes. "I'm retired, Shala. But I've got someone who could help."

Shala frowned, her gaze sliding to Reed. She looked him over, not bothering to hide her skepticism. "Him? No offense, but I'm not looking for someone green. This is a high-risk job, and I don't have time to babysit."

Reed straightened up, crossing his arms, meeting her gaze evenly. He wasn't offended by her comment—he knew what he looked like to a seasoned hunter like her. But she didn't know what he was capable of. Yet.

Brask chuckled again, leaning toward Shala. "Reed here's not as green as he looks. He's been itching for a real challenge. You said you needed someone reliable, right? I vouch for him."

Shala's eyes flicked back to Reed, this time with a more appraising look. "You vouch for him? Really?"

Brask nodded. "I do. And I'm not the type to stick my neck out if I don't believe it."

Reed didn't flinch under Shala's scrutiny. He could see her weighing the situation, trying to decide whether to trust Brask's judgment. After a long moment, she sighed.

"All right," she said, though her tone was cautious. "If Brask vouches for you, I'll give you a shot. But I'm not going to hold your hand. You fall behind, or get yourself killed? That's on you."

Reed's lips curled into a faint smirk. "I won't slow you down."

Shala raised an eyebrow, clearly still doubtful but willing to see if he could back up his words. She deactivated the holo and tucked the projector back into her belt. "We leave in twenty minutes. Gear up. This isn't going to be a walk in the park."

As she turned to leave, Brask shot Reed a sideways grin. "Good luck, kid. Don't make me regret sending you out there." he grinned back. "You know you won't, Brask"

"I know," the old Besalisk chuckled.

"And here," Brask pulls out a worn but well maintained blaster pistol. "You'll need somethin' more than just your fists if you're taking on a trandoshan."

Reed nodded, the familiar rush of the hunt already starting to course through him as he stowed the blaster inside his jacket. This was what he had been waiting for—his chance to finally break out of the cage. And now, it was time to hunt.

Reed followed Shala out of the Cantina that had been his home since he landed here, through the bustling underbelly of Coruscant's Level 1313, the dim lighting casting long shadows across the grimy streets. Shala led the way, her movements confident as they approached her ship. She was a seasoned hunter, and Reed could see the gleam of determination in her eyes. His own expression was a mix of readiness and caution, the weight of the blaster pistol Brask had given him hanging heavy at his side. It felt strange, but necessary.

As they boarded Shala's sleek but battle-worn freighter, she turned to him with a sharp gaze. "Reed, this Trandoshan we're tracking—he's not alone. He'll have friends. If things go south, don't hesitate to take them out. No mercy. You ready for that?"

Reed nodded, his jaw clenched. "I'll manage."

The ship hummed to life, and soon they were ascending through the endless layers of Coruscant, climbing from the dark, dangerous streets of Level 1313 toward the more structured chaos of Level 3000. The tension in the air was palpable, and Shala remained silent as they flew, her hands steady on the controls. Reed sat in the co-pilot's seat, his eyes scanning the urban sprawl stretching as far as the eye could see, his mind sharp and focused.

When they landed, the warehouse district was desolate, as expected. It reeked of neglect, the perfect place for someone like their mark to hide out. Shala motioned for Reed to stay close as they made their way inside.

"He'll be here," Shala muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. "But so will his crew."

Reed nodded as he drew his blaster. The moment they stepped inside the warehouse, the air grew colder, darker. The shadows stretched long, cast by the dim, flickering lights scattered overhead. The duo crept through the shadows of the long defunct machinery. The silence was deafening, the clinking of hanging chains, and the groaning of the metal as it shifted from slight temperature changes.

His senses were on alert as they crept further in when the silence was broken. "TAKE OUT THE KARKING SLEEMO'S!" a rough sounding voice bellowed. And then the warehouse was alight with scarlet blaster bolts screaming through the air.

Reed ducked behind a rusted support pillar as more blaster fire rained down from the upper balconies. Shala was already returning fire, her precision impeccable. A group of Narga's men, a mix of mercenaries and thugs, were spread out across the room, using crates and machinery for cover. Shala dove behind a large machine before peaking out to try and pick off some of them as he tried to do the same.

"How many do you count?" he called out as he ducked back behind cover narrowly avoiding a blaster bolt to the face. Shala took a few moments before responding. "I'm counting fifteen!" She then popped around her cover and shot a Duros on the upper level in the head, causing the alien to stagger over the railing. "Make that fourteen!"

"Huh! Feels like more!" Reed yelled over the noise.

"They're not gonna make this easy for us!" Shala replied, dropping one of the mercenaries from the high ground with a clean headshot.

Reed peered around his cover and saw a group of enemies advancing on their position, blasters blazing. His instincts kicked in, and he moved fast—faster than any normal person could. In a blur of motion, Reed darted from cover to cover, returning fire when he could. His shots weren't as precise as Shala's, but they kept the thugs from closing in.

The firefight intensified as Shala moved deeper into the warehouse, picking off the enemy one by one. Reed followed her lead, but they were quickly getting overwhelmed. The mercenaries had spread out, their fire focused on keeping them pinned down.

Suddenly, a blaster bolt struck the crate next to Reed, sending a shower of sparks into his face. He flinched, and before he could react, a grenade landed about 15 feet between the two of them. Shala's eyes widened as she was already diving away from the grenade, while he just braced himself. Not even a moment later, an explosion echoed through the warehouse. His body healed quickly from the explosion as smoke and debris filled the air, and in the chaos, Reed realized he'd been separated from Shala.

"Shala?" Reed called out, but his voice was drowned out by the roar of blaster fire and shouted commands as he staggered away from the detonation. He cursed when he realized that right now he was on his own.

There was no time to wait. Reed ducked low, his speed carrying him across the floor as he weaved through the blaster fire. The mercenaries were disorganized, but they were still dangerous. Reed let his enhanced strength take over, leaping over a row of crates and landing behind a group of three thugs. Before they even realized he was there, he grabbed a human and a rodian by the neck and crushed their windpipes with a sickening crunch before dropping them. The third turned to fire, but Reed grabbed the blaster with inhuman speed and wrenched it from his hands, tossing the man aside like a ragdoll before they landed in a pile of old crates, burying them.

As Reed pushed deeper into the warehouse, his focus sharpened. His speed allowed him to zigzag through the crossfire, taking down enemy after enemy with brutal efficiency. One mercenary tried to corner him, but Reed smashed him into a nearby wall with a bone-crunching force. Another attempted to shoot him in the back, but Reed disarmed him and sent him flying into a stack of barrels with a single punch.

But, with his powers limited to just strength and speed, there were too many of them, and the chaos was disorienting. He needed to find Narga and end this.

As Reed moved toward the back of the warehouse, he spotted Shala, still fighting off the remaining enemies, her blaster fire sharp and relentless. Before he could reach her, something massive moved out of the shadows.

Narga Krassk.

The hulking Trandoshan barreled out of his hiding spot, his yellow eyes locked on Reed with predatory intent. Before Reed could react, Narga charged him with surprising speed, slamming into him like a freight speeder. The impact sent Reed flying across the room, crashing into a stack of crates. Kocking his blaster out of his hand.

Reed grunted as he pulled himself up. The Trandoshan hissed, baring his sharp teeth. "You think you can take me, human?" Narga growled, stepping forward menacingly. "You're nothing but a snack."

Before Reed could respond, Narga lunged again, slashing out with his claws. Reed dodged, but not fast enough. Narga's claws raked across his face, tearing through flesh and muscle. Blood spattered across the floor, and Reed stumbled back, head twisted to the side.

Narga grinned wickedly, thinking the fight was over. But Reed wasn't done.

Slowly, Reed straightened up, his eyes locked on the Trandoshan. His breathing steady, his expression cold. Narga watched in confusion as the deep gashes across Reed's face began to heal. Viral biomass surged through the wound, knitting the flesh back together in a matter of seconds.

Narga's grin vanished, replaced by a look of horror. Reed's face, once slashed open, was now completely restored. He glared at the Trandoshan, his eyes dark and filled with fury.

"Big. Mistake," Reed muttered coldly. The Trandoshan pulled out their blaster and made to fire but Reed quickly knocked the blaster out of his hands and clattering across the floor.

Narga roared in frustration and fear as he swung at Reed again, but this time, Reed was ready. He grabbed Narga's wrist mid-swing, stopping the blow effortlessly. With a burst of strength, Reed twisted Narga's arm, forcing the Trandoshan to his knees with a pained snarl. That snarl quickly was turned into a choking gurgle as Reed's hand latched around his throat in an iron vice.

"You should've stayed hidden," Reed growled before lifting Narga off the ground like he weighed nothing.

In one swift motion, Reed hurled the massive Trandoshan across the room. Narga's body slammed into the metal wall with such force that the wall dented inward. The impact knocked the air out of Narga, and the Trandoshan crumpled to the floor, unconscious and limp.

Reed walked towards the mark and stood over him, blood now drying on his face, the rush of the fight slowly fading. As the chaos settled, he heard footsteps approaching. Shala appeared from around the corner, bruised and slightly battered but still in one piece.

She took one look at the unconscious Narga and then back at Reed, who stood over the Trandoshan with a grim expression.

"You knocked him out… on your own?" she asked, her tone disbelieving but impressed as he walked to his fallen blaster and stowed it away in his jacket before going back.

Reed wiped the blood from his cheek where Narga had slashed him, his skin looked as though he was never cut in the first place. "Yeah," he said, shrugging like it was nothing. "He wasn't that tough."

He stood over the unconscious form of Narga Krassk, he could feel Shala's eyes on him, sharp and scrutinizing. The Trandoshan was sprawled against the wall, the metal dented from the sheer force of Reed's throw. Blood still smeared across Reed's face where Narga's claws had slashed him, but the wound had already healed, leaving no trace of the damage.

Shala's gaze shifted between Reed and the knocked-out Trandoshan, a flicker of suspicion creeping into her eyes. "You took down a full-grown Trandoshan like that?" she asked, her tone casual but tinged with disbelief. "And all you've got to show for it is a bit of blood on your face?"

Reed shrugged, wiping the remaining blood from his cheek as if it were nothing. "Guess I got lucky," he said, trying to sound offhand. He could feel her skepticism, though. He knew she'd seen the damage Narga had inflicted, and now that the blood was still there but the wound was gone, there were bound to be questions.

Shala stepped closer, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied him. "Lucky," she repeated, though there was doubt in her voice. "Most people don't get that lucky against a Trandoshan. That cut... it should've done a lot more than leave you with a little blood."

Reed's pulse quickened, but he kept his face neutral. He could sense her probing, trying to piece together what didn't make sense. She wasn't stupid—she knew something was off, and it wouldn't take much to push her over the edge into full-blown suspicion.

"I've got a thick skull," Reed replied, flashing a brief smile. "Seen a few fights before this one."

Shala didn't seem convinced. She crossed her arms, eyes still locked on him, scanning him as if searching for some hidden clue. Reed could feel the weight of her gaze, and he knew she was holding back from outright accusing him of something—at least for now.

"You sure there's nothing else going on?" she asked bluntly, her tone cutting through the tension. "I've been around enough to know when someone's not telling me everything. And right now, you're hiding something."

Reed's jaw tightened. His mind raced, weighing what he could say, how much he could reveal without making things worse. Telling her about the viral biomass, about the truth of what he was—there was no way that could go over well. Not in a place like Coruscant, and certainly not with someone as sharp as Shala.

"I can handle myself," Reed said finally, his voice calm but firm. "Been through some rough spots. I know how to take a hit and keep going."

Shala studied him for a long moment, her eyes still full of doubt but no longer pushing. At least, not right now. "Alright," she said slowly, her tone neutral, though the suspicion hadn't fully left her voice. "But if you're holding something back, just know—secrets have a way of getting people killed out here. Especially on Coruscant."

Reed nodded, feeling the weight of her warning. "I get it. I'm not trying to get killed anytime soon."

Shala gave him one last long look before turning back to Narga's limp form. "Come on," she said, holstering her blaster. "Let's get this lizard tied up and on my ship. But we're going to have a talk later."

Reed exhaled quietly, knowing this was far from over. Shala wasn't the type to let things slide easily, and the more time he spent around her, the harder it would be to keep his abilities hidden. He could feel the walls closing in around his secret already, and on Coruscant—especially in the depths where they operated—that could become a problem real fast.

Reed hoisted Narga's unconscious body onto his shoulder as he and Shala made their way through the dim hangar to her ship. Narga's dead weight was unwieldy, but Reed handled it without trouble, despite his own nerves bubbling under the surface. He'd been prepared for a firefight, not for a trip beyond Coruscant, and the implications were starting to sink in.

They finally reached Shala's starship, the Steel Shrike . The Steel Shrike loomed in the docking bay like a battle-worn predator, its hull a patchwork of matte gray plates and scarred black panels, each seam telling the story of years spent on the unforgiving edge of the galaxy. Aged but formidable, the ship had a broad, angular structure that defied the sleek lines of the newer models. Instead, it wore its ruggedness with pride—a blocky silhouette built to endure rather than impress. Pockmarked from past skirmishes and reinforced in places with panels that didn't quite match, the Shrike was an unpolished gem among the starships at rest, its quiet hum a low, reassuring rumble that spoke of power under control.

Twin engines flanked its sides, heavy and industrial-looking, and a few uneven scorch marks around the nozzles hinted at several narrow escapes. The ship's cockpit, nestled near the front, was fortified with thick transparisteel windows framed by durable metal struts, giving Shala an uncompromising view of the expanse ahead. The interior was as stark and utilitarian as its exterior, with little regard for creature comforts. But that suited Shala just fine; the ship wasn't built to pamper but to endure whatever harsh realities awaited beyond the next jump. Shala made her way to a control pad and she keyed in the access code, the hatch lowering with a faint hiss.

Inside, the hold was divided carefully—two reinforced cells occupied the far end, each outfitted with energy restraints and backed by walls double-thick with durasteel, designed to contain even the most stubborn bounty. Opposite the cells was a cramped but efficient living space, where 2 bunks , a locker, and a galley unit squeezed into the metal-walled quarters like an afterthought. Everything about the ship was functional, from the armory's magnetic weapon racks to the row of battered but sturdy storage crates stacked neatly under the bunks.

Reed deposited the Trandoshan onto the floor of the cell, securing him to the side with the restraints.

Shala moved with practiced ease to the cockpit, slipping into the pilot's seat as Reed slid into the co-pilot's chair beside her. As she plotted the course, he glanced over her shoulder, curious about where she was taking them. When Nar Shaddaa appeared on the screen, Reed's brows shot up.

"Wait… Nar Shaddaa?" he asked, a twinge of alarm in his voice. "I thought the bounty was local. Wasn't expecting a trip across the galaxy."

Shala smirked as she confirmed the course, her fingers flying over the control panel. "Sorry, newbie. Narga's been slipping past Grakkus's people for a while now, which means we need to take him to someone who'll actually pay up—and that's not on Coruscant. Nar Shaddaa's our best bet. Besides, if you're going to work with me, you need to know the galaxy isn't just Coruscant and Level 1313."

Reed took a slow breath, digesting that. He'd been scraping by on Coruscant's lower levels for so long, he'd nearly forgotten the wider galaxy even existed. The idea of leaving made him nervous, if he was honest with himself. Going off-world brought with it new dangers, new people, and new challenges—all things he wasn't sure he was ready to face.

As Shala activated the ship's comm, he listened in.

"Brask, we've got Narga, and we're en route to Nar Shaddaa for the bounty handoff," she said, her tone dry. "Which means you're going to be down a bouncer for a bit."

A muffled but irritated groan came through the comm. "You know I don't have extras to spare right now. Tell him to hurry back, or I'll find someone else."

Shala rolled her eyes, cutting the comm before he could complain further. "Nice way of saying you're free to do as you like," she muttered with a smirk.

Reed chuckled nervously, his attention drawn away as the ship's engines roared to life. They rose smoothly from the hangar, the city lights of Coruscant growing smaller beneath them. He found himself glued to the viewport, watching in awe as they sped through the planet's atmosphere and out into the depths of space.

And then, with a final confirmation of their trajectory, Shala reached for the hyperdrive lever. She caught Reed's expression and chuckled. "First time in hyperspace?"

He nodded, a little embarrassed, but the wonder was hard to hide.

"Buckle up, then," she said with a smirk, pulling the lever. The stars elongated and streaked across the viewport, and in a flash, they were surrounded by the surreal blue tunnel of hyperspace.

Reed leaned back in his seat, feeling the jump in his gut, and a faint thrill chased the edges of his nerves. So this is the wider galaxy, he thought, watching the hyperdrive tunnel with something between excitement and fear.

As the hum of the ship settled, Shala turned to him, her casual demeanor from before replaced by a more pointed look. "Alright, Reed. It's just you, me, and hyperspace for the next couple hours. So tell me—what really happened back there with Narga?"

Reed's shoulders tensed. He could feel her eyes on him, sharp and unyielding. She hadn't bought his casual answer back in the warehouse, and she clearly wasn't dropping it now.

"What do you mean?" he said, trying to keep his tone light, though he knew he wasn't fooling her.

Shala raised an eyebrow. "What do I mean? I mean that Trandoshans don't go down easy—not without leaving more than a little blood on their attacker, especially with the way Narga came at you. So I'll ask again. What's your deal? How'd you manage to knock him out with hardly a scratch?"

Reed felt the weight of her words, and a dozen responses crossed his mind, each weaker than the last. He'd relied on his powers before, but never with anyone watching so closely. With Shala, he could feel the risk—it wouldn't take much for her to figure out he was hiding something… strange.

"I'm just tougher than I look," he said finally, his voice calm. "I know it sounds crazy, but I've handled myself in rough spots before. Guess it's just experience."

She leaned back in her seat, eyes narrowed. "Funny, I don't think experience usually heals wounds that fast."

Reed winced. "Maybe you're imagining things?"

Shala snorted. "Nice try, Reed. You can keep playing coy, but don't think I didn't see you get that cut on your face back there—and don't tell me it just vanished on its own."

Reed felt a cold sweat creeping down his back. He could keep dodging, but Shala wasn't the type to drop things lightly. And he knew this wouldn't be the last time she pushed for answers.

Reed held her gaze, wrestling with his options. He'd only been on Coruscant a few weeks, trying to keep a low profile while figuring out how to survive in this strange new galaxy, but Shala was pushing him into a corner. She'd somehow seen enough during the fight with Narga to know he wasn't exactly ordinary, and if he didn't say something now, she'd only dig deeper.

With a sigh, Reed sat up a little straighter, giving her an unflinching look. "Alright, Shala," he began, voice low, "I'll tell you what you want to know. But once you know, you keep it to yourself. I'm not kidding—if word of this gets out, you're going to find out just how dangerous I really am."

Shala's brow lifted, but she didn't flinch, her curiosity clearly outweighing any fear his words might have sparked. "Fair enough," she replied evenly, crossing her arms. "I'm listening."

Reed took a deep breath, feeling the weight of what he was about to reveal. He'd never shared this willingly before. "What you saw back there—when I took that hit from Narga—it's… complicated. I'm not like you or anyone else you've met. I can't die from a little scratch or a broken bone. Hell, I can't even die from a blaster shot, most of the time."

He saw Shala's eyes widen a fraction, a mix of fascination and wariness flickering across her face. "So, what? You're some kind of... experiment?"

"Not exactly," Reed replied, his tone hardening. "I was normal once, a long time ago. But then… something happened to me. Something that changed me." He clenched his fists, feeling the viral biomass within him stir, the thing that kept him alive but made him something else entirely.

Shala tilted her head, still focused on him with that unwavering intensity. "And that 'something' is what lets you heal fast?"

"It lets me do a lot more than that," Reed said quietly. "I'm faster, stronger, and I can take hits that would kill just about anyone else. And if I need to, I can be… a lot more dangerous than what you saw with Narga. But the less you know about the specifics, the safer you are." His eyes darkened, and he allowed the intensity of his words to settle. "That means no telling Brask. No telling anyone. You keep this to yourself, Shala, or I'll make sure you understand why you shouldn't have crossed that line."

For a moment, silence stretched between them, the hum of hyperspace filling the cockpit. Reed watched her, waiting to see if she'd challenge him, press further. But after a moment, she nodded, her face carefully neutral.

"Fine," she said, voice low but steady. "I can keep a secret. But you'll understand if I stay… cautious around you." There was no fear in her eyes, but her usual hard edge had softened, a hint of respect lurking beneath the suspicion. "I've seen a lot of strange things in this line of work, Reed, but whatever you are—it's something else. Just don't make me regret trusting you."

Reed nodded slowly, feeling a strange sense of relief mingled with the tension that still lingered between them. "You won't," he said simply.

She sighed. "Well, like I said, we have at least a few days before we reach Nar Shaddaa. You can take the top bunk and catch some shuteye." she turned back to the controls as he walked away. "Oh and when the sleemo wakes up, keep an eye on 'em. He's a slippery one." Reed nodded and made his way out of the cockpit and to the bunk.

An hour later, Reed watched as Narga groggily came to, his eyelids fluttering open before his eyes narrowed in a dazed glare. The massive alien shook his head, grimacing in pain as he felt the bruise still throbbing across his jaw—a reminder of just how quickly Reed had put him down. Sitting nearby on a crate, Reed observed, calm and quiet, as Narga tried to make sense of what had happened.

Shala stood close by, arms crossed, an amused glint in her eyes as she watched the enforcer squirm. Reed could practically see Narga's anger flare the moment he laid eyes on him.

"How the kriff," Narga began, his voice gravelly with frustration, "did some puny human like you knock me out?" The question was laced with a sneer, as if the very idea offended him.

Reed didn't flinch. Instead, he met Narga's glare with a cool, steady gaze, refusing to rise to the bait. He leaned forward, hands clasped together, speaking with a calm confidence that only seemed to irk the alien further. "Because I'm stronger than you," he said simply.

Narga's expression darkened, and his fists clenched, but Reed continued, his tone dropping lower as he added, "And in case you're wondering about any 'reinforcements'—they're gone. All of them. You're on your own."

Narga's defiance seemed to waver as he processed the blunt statement, his gaze darting from Reed to Shala, and back again. Reed could see the wheels turning as Narga realized that escape, or revenge, wasn't an option here.

"No one's coming to save you," Shala chimed in, her voice edged with sharp finality. "So you might as well sit tight."

A long, simmering silence settled over them as Narga stewed, muttering curses under his breath. Satisfied, Reed pushed himself off the crate, turning his attention back to the mission at hand. They still had a few days before they reached Nar Shaddaa, and he'd need every minute of it to prepare for what lay ahead.

As the days passed, Reed focused on readying himself for whatever Grakkus had in store for them. The blue tunnel of hyperspace and the hum of the ship became routine, but a strange sense of foreboding lingered. He'd seen firsthand what Hutts were capable of, and he wasn't thrilled to be walking straight into one's domain.

Finally, as they neared Nar Shaddaa, Shala returned from the cockpit, a slight smirk on her face. She sat beside him, leaning back as they both stared out at the stars streaking past.

"Almost there," she said casually, stretching her legs out. "We'll be docking soon. Grakkus is expecting us. And you definitely don't want to keep a Hutt waiting"

Reed froze, feeling his muscles tense at her words. "Wait—Grakkus is a Hutt?"

Shala's smirk grew a little wider, clearly enjoying the surprise on his face. "Didn't I mention that?" she replied, feigning innocence.

Reed clenched his jaw, irritation flaring as he processed this revelation. "You're telling me I'm supposed to meet with a Hutt crime lord?"

"Not just any Hutt," she said, her tone becoming more serious. "Grakkus is different. He's a collector—a Hutt with an appetite for knowledge, artifacts, power… all the things that make people valuable to him. And that makes him dangerous, yes, but he's also a professional."

Reed let out a sigh, rubbing a hand over his face as he worked through the frustration. "Great," he muttered. "First, I'm stuck dealing with getting dragged into dragging lizard breath here, and now I get to play nice with a Hutt. Just what I wanted."

Shala laughed softly. "You'll manage," she replied, giving him a look that was equal parts amusement and reassurance. "Grakkus isn't the worst of his kind. In fact, he's probably the most likely to cooperate. But if things go wrong, I'm sure you'll get a chance to prove you're stronger than his guards too."

Reed smirked, his irritation settling into a grim determination. "If he tries anything, he'll see firsthand what I'm capable of."

As they drew closer to Nar Shaddaa, Reed prepared himself to enter the den of one of the galaxy's most powerful crime lords, ready to face whatever challenge Grakkus would throw their way.