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From a tight Coruscant alley, a pair of hooded figures watched in disgust as two dozen armed men marched through a small market, tipping over stands and manhandling resisting vendors, a cacophony of noise disrupting the rare calm of the early morning. One, tall and lanky, spat at the ground, eyes gleaming with hatred as the spectacle continued.
"Animals." he muttered. "The whole lot of them."
"You have no one to blame but yourself for that." a feminine voice hissed back. "You knew the Imperial patrols were making rounds today, and still you decided to risk a market trip."
"We had no choice. The supply ships were delayed another week by the meteor shower. I'd rather not have to dig into the emergency supplies."
"What's the point of having them if you never touch them?"
"The point is to save them for a real emergency, instead of whenever supply shipments are a few days late."
The second figure sighed and shook her head. Her companion ignored her and stepped a bit further out of the shadows, slowly moving a hand to a metal rod on his belt.

"Don't get involved." she muttered.
The tall man wheeled on her in anger, pointing an accusing finger to an elderly Kel Dor as he was thrown to the ground.
"Those people are innocent, and they're suffering..." he growled. "Because of us."
The fury in the girl's eyes was nearly equal to that within his, if not greater.
"Because of you, Zagna."
The duo stood motionless, a silent standoff, for several long moments, then the man unclipped the steel cylinder from his belt and turned to exit the alley.
"Fine." his voice echoed behind him. "To hell with you, then."

He stalked out into the open air of the market, eyes locked on the white-clad soldiers who still hovered menacingly above the prone old man. The poor bastard was pleading with them in some language that Zagna couldn't understand, but as the leader pressed the barrel of his gun to the side of the Kel Dor's head, it became clear that they weren't interested in mercy. He thumbed a button on the device in his hand, and a brilliant, blade-like beam of green energy shot out of the front end, humming softly as it cut through the air. The sound attracted the attention of the men, and before the captain could adjust his aim, the weapon had left Zagna's hand and was spiralling through the air. There was a sick moment of sucking pause, the squick of muscle and bone being cut through like paper, and the whole market was filled with the scent of burning flesh as the captain's severed forearm hit the durasteel.

The captain screamed and toppled to the ground, clutching the cleanly severed stump, and the remaining patrons either fled or ran for cover as the remaining soldiers trained their weapons on the newcomer and fired, their shots whizzing harmlessly beneath him as he leapt into the air. Halfway through the somersault, Zagna threw out one hand, and some unseen force returned the blade to his hand, the troopers all keeping their distance as he landed in their midst. He slashed at the man standing closest to him, the tip of the blade scorching a sooty black trench into his pure white breast plate, and rolled out of the now-empty circle the group had enclosed him in. Zagna grinned as several soldiers realized too late what had happened and fired, accidentally nailing their comrades.

He rose to his feet slowly and examined the damage that the battle had caused thus far, staring daggers at the surviving troopers across the space that seperated them. Seven men, including the captain, lay dead or wounded on the ground, while more than a dozen stood with guns trained on him, the visage of their helmets locked in an identical frown as they tried to predict his next move. He shot a fleeting glance to the alleyway where his companion still stood, observing the conflict, giving no indication whether or not she intended to join the fight. He scowled and lifted his blade menacingly. He could easily finish this on his own.

Searching his surroundings for a distraction, Zagna smiled again as he found one, and with a flick of his wrist a nearby stand was sent sailing through the air, its wares spilling out in a slippery rain at the soldiers' feet as the cart smashed into several of their compatriots. He immediately rushed those still standing, stabbing and slashing, effortlessly cutting down man after man. As he leapt out and away from the ring of bodies that had been formed, however, he heard a shot, and a searing pain flared through his left ankle as the laser bolt tore through his Achilles tendon.

Zagna cried out and collapsed, struggling to get up as the half-dozen prone survivors, still dazed from being hit with the stand, rose and trained their weapons on him, eager to take advantage of his new weakness. His blade worked furiously to deflect their shots back at them as they opened fire, taking out a few of the shooters, but his wound steadily slowed him until their shots slammed into his chest unimpeded. Quickly but cautiously, the soldiers approached his prone form and secured his arms behind his back, proceeding to end his life with a simultaneous shot to the head.

The female figure sighed again and slipped out of the alley as Zagna's smoking corpse slumped to the ground, unwilling to stick around any longer and risk being discovered. Yet another good friend had died, and the dim flicker of light that was the remaining Jedi Knights in the galaxy had grown dimmer still.