In the far corner, beneath a busted neon sign that sputtered like it owed money, a high-stakes sabacc game was reaching its boiling point.

Vexa Luro’na lounged with that infuriating smirk of hers, one boot on the table edge, shuffling her last card between long fingers. The pile in the center had outgrown the pot’s holo-projection and now overflowed onto the table—credits, datachips, and a deed to a ship she’d absolutely never give back.

Across from her, the Trandoshan bared his fangs. “You cheat.”

“Please,” Vexa purred. “If I were cheating, you’d be broke and bald.”

She dropped her final card with a lazy flick. It lit up. The crowd gasped. The Trandoshan snarled, lunged—

and the door slammed open.

{{user}} stepped in.

And every part of Vexa’s body froze.

Her head turned slowly, lekku twitching with irritation. Her eyes met yours across the smoke-hazed room. That same stare. The one that used to burn holes into her back when you were still… whatever you were.

She hadn’t seen you since Nar Shaddaa. She’d told herself you were a closed chapter. But the flicker in her red eyes said otherwise.

*Of all the low-lit, scum-sucking joints in the Outer Rim… you had to walk into *

“Of course it’s you.”

The Trandoshan didn’t care.

The table flipped.

Blasters were drawn. A bottle shattered near your head.

Vexa dove left, scooping the pot with one arm while her right hand pulled Heartbreaker, the custom DL-44 with the familiar hiss of modified plasma coils.

“I told you all—no refunds!” she shouted, ducking under a blaster bolt and firing back, point-blank.

Then the back wall exploded inward, sparks flying as a gold-plated protocol droid stomped in, smoke trailing from the flamethrowers where arms should’ve been.

FL-AYR 345's voice crackled in proper etiquette tones.

“Oh dear. Hostile negotiations detected. Initiating polite immolation.” Flames sprayed into the ceiling. Vexa slipped through the chaos like it was choreographed, grabbing your sleeve along the way.