The Negotiator and the Fire Fang

Investigation on Iveria: Black Out

The Zabrak male squatted down to where Sahrea Shan lay crumpled on the ground, gasping for breath. Her abdomen was riling in pain. She had to swallow back the contents of her stomach. Her face was warm. She could tell it was beginning to swell from where he slammed her into the floor.

She looked up into his yellow eyes. They were burning. The male picked her up by her throat and shoved the Gray hard into the wall of the empty cargo hold of his ship. Spots danced in front of her vision. Shan clawed at his arm weakly.

"I think I have your attention now." he purred, releasing his grip. Shan stayed on her feet, holding onto his arm to stay upright. He allowed it, surprisingly.

"What do you want?" she asked bitterly, pulling her hand away from his forearm as soon as she was stable. She leaned back against the wall, chest heaving.

This Zabrak was unsettling. Forgetting the fact that he was completely engulfed in the Dark Side of the Force, there was just something about him.

The way he studied everything like it were a machine he planned to disassemble. The way he moved, smooth and calculated, but restrained. It was almost as if that tension kept him together, that if he relaxed, he would fall apart. Even the way he dueled, with such savage, strategic ferocity, all pointed to a warrior who was crafted from years of studying, pain, loss, and possibly even insanity.

The male stepped back. His jaw was set, his arms were crossed, shoulders squared, xanthous eyes determined.

"Not what I want. What I need, and what I need is you." he said simply. She gripped onto the wall, staring at him from behind a lock of white-gold hair that had been forced loose.

"Why?" she asked, tucking the hair behind her ear. The Zabrak gave her a curious look.

"Because you are not a Jedi." She made a face as a sharp pain filled her abdomen.

"And you aren't a... Sith, your point?" she replied, voice labored with pain. He gave her a wicked smile.

"You are an observant one." he noted. "But no, not quite yet. You will find out soon." Shan wiped blood from her nose.

"What shall I call you, not-Sith?" she asked dryly. Neither of them had moved. The male was still standing stiffly across from her, his presence like a barrier. Shan was still leaning up against the wall weakly.

"I am called Maul." he introduced. Maul. She immediately knew who she was dealing with. Obi-Wan had told her the story. If this Zabrak could kill a Jedi as skilled as Qui-Gon Jinn, he was not to be taken lightly. He was also the one who defied death, shattering his mind in the process.

"You are young to be the leader of your entire order." Maul observed. They were both being quite civil considering one had taken the other hostage. Shan pffted at him.

"You can thank your pal Dooku for that." Like the flick of a switch, his demeanor changed. Maul went from composed and detached to enraged in a breath. He leapt forward and slammed his hands on the wall on each side of her body, his mouth in a snarl. She instinctively turned her face away.

"Do not mention that Sith pretender to me!" he shouted, his words hot against her cheek. Shan tried to hide her fear the best she could, but she knew she did a poor job.

Maul stayed like that for a long moment, his face inches away from hers, mouth curled in a sneer, before backing away. He created distance between them. Once he was far enough away, Shan decided to make her move. She snapped her arm out.

Maul scrambled away as the double bladed saber at his waist ignited of its own accord. It pulled away from his body as it took up a ghostly fighting form.