"That guy is one of Fronis's men," Veronica continued.
Fronis was the head of a powerful underground syndicate on Coruscant, thriving off black-market intel, arms trafficking, and mercenary contracts. Rumor had it he had serious backing, and in this sector, his name alone was enough to make people tremble.
"According to Sainir, that guy's scheduled to meet another group at Chaos Bar tomorrow to hand off something. No one knows what it is, but plenty of eyes are on it. Our job is to slip in unnoticed and steal it in the chaos," Veronica said, leaning back on the railing and glancing at Amir.
"This isn't some back-alley gig," Amir said, his gaze shifting across the three others. "If even someone like Sainir dares to get involved, that means whatever this thing is—it's worth a lot. Which also means it's insanely dangerous."
"Sainir said we won't need to fight," Little Jay cut in. "Just find the right moment to snatch it. Even if it doesn't work out, he's still giving us 200 credits each for the effort."
"Chaos Bar is full of scum. Don't expect any restraint just because you're kids. If things go south, they'll shoot first," Amir warned. "And we're talking about Fronis's men. If he puts a target on us, that's it. This is high-risk, low-success, and guaranteed to bring long-term trouble."
Everyone's expressions dimmed at that.
"That's why we need to grab it without anyone noticing," Amir murmured, his hand absentmindedly fiddling with the lightsaber on his belt, deep in thought.
"Hah! I knew you wouldn't say no!" Jay laughed, jumping up and smacking Rango on the back—his green scales briefly turned red from the impact.
"Then we're planning tonight," Amir said firmly. "We don't move unless it's airtight."
Veronica nodded. She folded her arms, exposing her cybernetic limb, and gave Amir a knowing look—probably a reminder that it still needed upgrades.
"Let's head to Uncle Mels's storage unit. I brought back some goodies from the Imperial depot—time to upgrade your gear," Amir grinned.
Level One – Commercial District
The skyscrapers stretched into the heavens like swords of light, gleaming with a mesmerizing brilliance. Every day, the masses looked up at them with awe, knowing full well they'd never step inside.
At the top of one such tower, a humanoid figure with shimmering blue skin, clad in ornate robes, sipped slowly from a glass of Glorm wine.
"Sainir, right? You did well," said Rensys Coppett, addressing the Quarren standing across from him. As always, he felt a wave of revulsion at the sight of those writhing facial tentacles, but he endured it. Dirty work like this was beneath the elites—someone had to do it.
"You'll handle some of the minor port business from now on. Any problems?"
"Lord Rensys... if this job offends Fronis, what then?" Sainir asked hesitantly. "I'm a nobody. If he decides to hold a grudge, I—"
"Remember: this was your initiative. And Fronis? He's just a clueless brute. After tomorrow, he won't be a problem anymore." Rensys set his glass down and gestured to the nearby guards.
Sainir didn't dare press further. He bowed slightly, then exited to the elevator.
As the lift descended, he allowed himself a faint smirk and adjusted his clothes. But when he stepped onto the ground floor, he hunched over again—like a kicked-out pet returning to the gutters of the lower levels.
Morning on Coruscant was hazy, as if the planet itself were still hungover from last night's excess. Or perhaps it had only just reached its peak.
For some, though, the chaos was only just beginning.
Chaos Bar still carried the residue of last night's revelry. Some patrons lay slumped across tables, murmuring in their sleep; others were still guzzling unidentified drinks as if dawn meant nothing.
Amir watched a massive insectoid in the corner pound back liquor like water. He clicked his tongue in disbelief—That guy's got eight organs just for breaking down alcohol. Across from him, a green-skinned Twi'lek lay face-down on the table, his head-tails flushed bright red.
"Chaos Bar shouldn't be this crowded in the morning. Yesterday wasn't even a holiday," Amir muttered to Veronica, seated across from him.
The red-haired girl didn't answer. She was completely focused on inspecting the many mechanical parts of her exposed cybernetic arm.
As one of the busiest nightspots in the sector, Chaos Bar spared no expense in design. Smooth alloy floors gleamed underfoot. The open space was expansive, the massive central bar counter radiated alternating red and blue light, and rows of bottles sparkled behind it. Around them stood polished tables and sleek chairs, and elegant chandeliers added to the bar's seductive atmosphere.
People drank, laughed, and negotiated. Under-the-table deals were struck every minute. It was a place where a no-name punk could become a local kingpin—or where a legend could fall into obscurity. Just like its name: chaotic, alluring, and dangerous.
"Don't stress, Veronica. Just watch the pro at work," Amir said with a cocky grin.
"Hmph. I'd rather go up there, blast everyone, and take the damn thing myself," Veronica said, staring at her arm with confidence. She seemed more sure of herself than ever.
"Relax. That moment will come," Amir said, just as he noticed a droid entering the bar.
"BD? That model's rare these days…" Amir muttered to himself. The small, bipedal droid seemed to catch his gaze—and began walking straight toward them.
"Hey, is that thing walking our way, Veronica?" Amir asked, watching its deliberate steps.
"Clearly. It is," Veronica replied, locking eyes on the droid as well.
It was a silver-white BD unit, its thin legs supporting a rectangular head. A sensor lens on its face whirled in tight, continuous circles as it scanned its surroundings.
"BD… is that really you?" Amir asked. As the droid stopped in front of him, something clicked in his memory—an old recollection resurfaced from years past.
As if responding, the little droid lifted its left leg and wiggled it a few times.
"Haha! So it really is you, old buddy. Pull up a seat—too bad they don't serve motor oil here, or I'd buy you a round," Amir laughed, eyes gleaming. In that moment, he saw not the droid in front of him, but the stubborn little scavenger from years ago, tirelessly combing through the junkyard. Amir had once repaired its shattered leg—and in return, BD had led him to a valuable engine. That same engine still powered his Cola speeder to this day.
BD hopped up onto the table and let out a cheerful sequence of beeps.
"I've been doing alright. What about you? Ever find what you were looking for?"
Beep beep, bzzz—beep beep.
"Haha, nice! Once we're done here, I'm taking you back to the workshop for an oil bath and a full decarb scrub. You earned it. Time to treat yourself!" Amir grinned. He'd been eyeing this little droid for a long time, but it had always refused to go home with him. This time, if he could finally bring it back, he wasn't letting go.
Bzzz—bzzz—beep beep bzzz. The tone of BD's electric chirps was unmistakably excited.
"How the hell do you understand what that droid's saying?" Veronica gave Amir a look that could only be described as are you insane?
"Ha! That's because you don't get it. This right here—that's called perfect synergy," Amir said, smirking smugly.
Beep beep!
"See? BD agrees."
"Hmph."
Suddenly, the alloy doors slammed open. A blast of cold air swept into the bar, stirring up empty glasses and loose napkins. A figure stepped inside, completely wrapped in a brown trench coat, head lowered. He carried an old, battered case, and his gait was slow—like the weight of the case was almost too much to bear.