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      ARAMINTA SOLARII watched the world go by with gleaming gold eyes, scanning passers-by from underneath her hood, taking in every face in sight, every small misstep and every glance shot her way. The streets were a bustling maze, people moving around in a spur of dirt and rain underneath the canopy that formed over the town, everyone heading in their own direction in time with each other.

The air was heavy with humidity, as if there was a constant layer of thin rain, which clung to Araminta's figure as the heat suffocated her, her uniform feeling like a second skin along with the sheen of moisture. She reached up a hand and moved some strands of her dark, damp hair from her face, tilting her head slightly to see those approaching her, blinking away when she was met with nothing.

Her target's face was engraved in her mind. Just enough she would not miss him when she spotted him, but not quite enough that she would stop and think about him again. That was the routine that she had developed in the eleven years she had been working the job, and it had proven to be effective before. She had proven to be effective before.

That was why Vestor Octavian, her superior, trusted her enough for a solo mission. They were rare, only the very best were allowed, representing the feared commander throughout the stars and systems. She had been dropped off on the tropical planet, saluted at the docking sector and left to return at nightfall. She believed she didn't need that long to simply slit a throat and leave.

The girl tensed, her eyes narrowing as she spotted her target amongst the crowd, heading straight towards her. He wasn't old, but was definitely old enough to be considered a man, and had golden hair that just touched his shoulders, his robes flowing around him as he moved. Araminta tapped her fingers against her boot with rhythmic impatience, the knife she'd hidden there feeling heavy. Her target was accompanied by a boy, who couldn't have been much older than Araminta herself, with darker robes and cropped hair.

The pair passed her, completely oblivious to the hooded girl who barely stood out amongst the streets. This part of the planet was not savoury, so she was hardly an eyesore amongst the people moving around her, as she had predicted, going unnoticed as she got to her feet once they had cleared her, tying a piece of fabric around the back of her head, covering anything below her eyes, which locked onto the back of their heads as she moved off swiftly.

She kept up behind them, moving quietly and quickly so as not to lose them. As she hurried to keep up, Araminta reached under her cloak, feeling the hilt of another knife against her hip. She kept moving; now wasn't the time to attack, not surrounded by so many people. She continued to trail her target, and when she deduced that the pair were heading into a back alley, she saw her opportunity.

Araminta knew she had to separate them, make it subtle and avoid making a scene. While some of her squad members went for the direct approach, Araminta preferred a swift and silent one. That and she was simply too small compared to most opponents– she had to be smart about how she engaged.

One of the surrounding wooden buildings, though flimsy and rickety, held a staircase up to a small balcony, which Araminta cleared in seconds. She grabbed the eave above her, pulling herself up with ease, climbing onto the roof. She crouched, scanning the streets below her, tail twitching like a predator. Araminta narrowed her eyes as they relocked onto her target, who was heading into a back alley, and she began moving.

Her footfalls were completely silent as she paced along the rooves, light footed from years of practice, perfectly balanced by her tail, until she was practically right on top of the pair, moving parallel with them. The sun was in front, and barely cast a shadow as she moved. She could almost hear their conversation, garbled words that she didn't consider important as she unsheathed the knife at her hip and discarded the hood and cloak she had been wearing.

Araminta jumped, knife held above her head, knees braced for his shoulders. Quick and efficient, just her style. She'd deal with his companion in moments.

The man moved, as if he'd sensed her coming, swinging around, eyes locking onto her as she slammed into him, knees pressing into his throat instead of her blade from his new position. No matter, the weight still forced them to the ground in a blur, Araminta's knife coming down. Her target grabbed her wrist, quick enough to intercept the blow, catching her off guard, stopping the knife inches away from his skin.

"Obi-wan!" the boy shouted.

Araminta pressed against the man, Obi-wan's, strength but it wasn't enough as there was the tearing of a weapon the galaxy famously knew. The assassin glanced over her shoulder, blue light reflecting off her features as the boy brandished a lightsaber. Araminta's eyes widened, realising the two in front of her were fucking Jedi, and the boy wasn't his son, but a padawan, with the signature braid falling in front as he lunged forward.

The assassin pulled back, spinning her legs, the toe of her boot catching the boy's hand and forcing the lightsaber down and away, Araminta feeling the plasma buzzing as she got closer. Surprised by the sudden movement, Obi-wan let her go, releasing her with her knife, which she clung to desperately. Despite her small stature, and preference for stealth, she could take them on if she had to, she had defeated opponents far larger than her in her time, and her strength came from learning to adapt to a situation.

But this was different, as the boy charged, proving he was indeed still learning as she pulled back, eyes on him. How had she not put that together? How had she trusted the situation so much? Such questions swam in her mind as she jumped back to dodge another blow, lightsabre passing through the space that only a second ago her nose had been.

He was good, she had to admit; quick-paced and precise, yet his blows were heavy and hard for him to recover from and slip back into an active stance. It only took Araminta a few dodges, the blue lightsaber whirring past her, before she landed a hard blow to his flank, her heel connecting with his delicate ribs. Obi-wan stood to the side, she realised, watching on– he was treating this as a lesson.

Araminta watched the padawan wince, freezing up for a second, before he charged straight at her. The Adanei girl rolled her eyes. He was wasting her time. The next blow of blue light directed at her, she flipped over, easily clearing his head and landed on the other side of him, placing herself between the padawan and her actual target. The second she landed she had thrown her knife, which spun through the air towards Obi-wan, who moved to dodge it, but it glanced the side of his ribs.

The boy's eyes zeroed in on the indigo scar tissue on her right shoulder where her skin was exposed. "Wait, that brand–"

Feeling suddenly violated, Araminta struck out with renewed vigour, letting out a yell as she threw the boy away without touching him, his lightsaber deactivating and falling to the side as he was slammed against the wall of the alleyway. Araminta ran for Obi-wan again, but heard the sound of dirt scuffing behind her as the padawan pursued.

The assassin rolled her eyes as she moved low and quick, before sweeping around and trying to take out her assailant's feet. The padawan skipped over the attack as Araminta jumped to her feet, driving her side and elbow into the boy's frame, shoving him backwards with the power behind her legs, feeling the wind leave his body.

The padawan boy dwarfed her, easily a foot taller than she was, but as she had trained, Araminta ducked and dodged his hits, using her size to be quick and nimble, landing precise hits when the opportunity arose. They were frustratingly equal in skill when unarmed, the boy clearly highly trained like her, and the both of them Force sensitive and capable of more than the average individual.

Araminta's mission was slipping through her fingers, and she couldn't afford to be wasting time dancing around a ballsy padawan unarmed. She had to end it. The Adanei girl finally landed her fist to the boy's throat, before throwing him to the ground. A moment later, knife spinning between her fingers, she stabbed it through his hand and into the dirt. He let out a stifled yell at the pain, before she kicked at his head.

"Stay down," she said, quietly, voice muffled through the mask. She was tired of focusing on him as she unsheathed another knife, of which her supply was now dwindling.

And just in time as her actual target came at her.

He had activated his lightsaber but Araminta fought with precision accuracy, even if she was forced largely into defensive tactics. The man was decades ahead of his padawan, and therefore decades ahead of Araminta, who had just eleven years of training under her belt and only three years in the field. He had clearly been judging her against his padawan, not interfering until he was down. Araminta didn't need to beat him in fair combat, however, just needed to land a killing blow.

After what felt like minutes of dodging and spinning around, nimbly, Araminta avoided a lethal swipe and caught his wrist, pressing it away from her face with her wrist, while her hand gripped the knife, the blade gritting against the hilt of the sabre. It became a match of brute strength, a man aged and experienced, and a young Adanei with strength beyond her tiny size.

"An impressive show," Obi-wan told her, voice strained. Araminta ignored him, golden eyes narrowed. "You're an Octavian, aren't you?" the man asked suddenly. The assassin ignored him, knowing he was trying to bait her and shake her into disadvantage. "Saw the brand. Taken in as a child and trained to kill."

Obi-wan increased his pressure and Araminta was glad for her bent knees to stop her from buckling to the ground. "Tell me, you're getting paid for this, aren't you?" he continued.

Araminta ignored him, eyes narrowing onto a weak spot. She dropped the knife from the hand blocking the man's sabre and caught it with her other, swiftly moving away and leaving the man pressing on nothing but thin air. Taking his moment of weakness, Araminta kicked him in the gut. She spun in before he could fully recover, dodging his swipe at her. She twisted her body backwards, her knife aimed from the back of her hand for his throat.

He managed to duck, the blade nicking his neck, as he took a firm hold of her wrist and used it to slam her to the ground on her back. Araminta's knife fell from her grasp as she let out a groan, slightly winded.

"Surrender now," the man said, sabre hovering at Araminta's throat. Behind him, his padawan had recovered, his blood running down his hand and into the dust.

The Adanei girl wasn't down, not by a longshot, she could endure a fight much worse and much longer. But the situation was off, and years of training told her this wasn't a mistake. She had been sent after two highly trained Force-sensitives, whose training and abilities could rival any of Octavian. Araminta knew she could beat them, probably, maybe. Just the Padawan.

But she hadn't been told they were Jedi, some of the few people in the universe who had training to rival Octavian's, and the ability to punish and hold them credible for their crimes. And, after what she had done, she didn't doubt that they'd kill her. The anonymous job, the unusually high-price, the lack of information on the assignment, Octavian handpicking her over her squad members and sending her in alone and with no locked-in way off the planet.

She'd been set up.

She'd been set up.

She'd been set up.

Araminta's expression shifted, the padawan noticing it, as the sabre at her throat cast a light blue glow on her features. Araminta met the eyes of the man. "No."

She clenched her fist in the dust, before throwing a handful of it towards him, forcing him to stumble and the lightsaber left its place at Araminta's neck as her mind raced. She'd been set up. The job didn't matter, the money didn't matter. She wouldn't get anything out of killing this man now. She knew she had to get away. She had to get away.

Araminta removed a sphere from her belt and threw it forward, rolling around the Jedi's feet before it erupted into smoke. She moved quick, light-footed as she skipped through the cloud, picking up one of her discarded knives, and then another, before she fled the scene, sheathing them as she sprinted.

It clearly wasn't going to be that easy as she heard the man yell out 'Anakin, go!' Araminta cursed as she realised the boy was pursuing her, his steps thundering behind her. She upped her pace, sprinting out of the empty alley and straight into the bustling, crowded market. Though, really it was an assortment of narrow and wide alleyways overcrowded by shady folk scrounging to survive. The slums.

Araminta flipped over a stall, threw a bin behind and even knocked over a cart of fruit, all to stall Anakin, but it wasn't working. She pulled her mask down so it hung around her throat, needing to get as much air in her lungs as possible. She saw a larger passage approaching, the area divided by a line of stalls in the middle. Araminta ducked through the crowd, using her height as an advantage to go through unseen, and broke into the left side of the alley.

Victory wasn't hers, however, as she looked to the side and saw Anakin running parallel to her, separated only by the various stalls flashing by them. The moment there was a break in them, Anakin threw himself to the side, slamming Araminta to the ground as he grabbed her, the two rolling along in the dirt. People around them let out shouts of surprise and backed up.

"Why did you run?" Anakin hissed, gripping both Araminta's wrists and holding her arms wide against the ground, effectively pinning her and actively ignoring the hole in his hand because of her.

"I wasn't going to kill you or him anymore," Araminta snarled.

The boy's eyes widened. "What?"

"You should've just let me go." Araminta's voice had a lethal edge to it. Despite her aching side, Araminta brought up her leg, rattling Anakin enough for her to pull free from his grip and throw herself on top. She pinned down Anakin with her legs and pulled one of her recovered knives from her boot, which she held horizontally at his throat.

"You're good," she breathed, panting slightly from their sprint. "But not good enough," she added lowly. Araminta looked Anakin in the eye, gold on blue, her hand steady as she drew blood, but didn't do any more damage. He looked at her in a way she hated, and knew she'd never forget. One of pity, pity as she had him pinned, and of understanding as his eyes flicked to her brand.

Anakin looked at her like she was the victim, despite everything, despite her having the upper hand, having a knife to his throat, and the very obvious capability to kill without mercy. He looked at her like she was more than the cold assassin prepared to slit his throat.

Araminta hesitated.

And that was her downfall.

She let out a cry as the side of her head erupted with pain. She dropped the knife and fell to the side, her world darkening around. She attempted to sit up, but failed, propping herself up with her arms. She let out a groan, gently touching a hand to her head, pulling it away to see her indigo blood spotting her fingertips. Araminta looked up to see her original target holding his deactivated lightsabre, the hilt of it coloured with her blood, just before she blacked out.

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      ARAMINTA regained consciousness on an unfamiliar ship, tied to a chair by her wrists behind her body, and her stomach to the back of the chair, stomach twisting with shame but with her blood boiling. After all her years of training, fieldwork, and perfect assignment records, here she was, captured, and by the Jedi no less.

She was still trying to make sense of what had happened, how she'd ended up where she was, connect the dots in her mind. Either way, she had failed her assignment miserably, and regardless of his involvement with the presumed set up, Octavian would have given up on her. There was no welcome back for failures in his ranks.

When the Jedi had noticed she was awake, the older one, her original target, had approached her while his padawan continued to fly the ship. He had introduced himself formally, and given her some speech about the values of justice and honesty, and why she could talk to him, his voice calm and polite the entire time. Instead of cooperating, Araminta went cold, refusing to provide any answers of substance as she tested the tightness of her restraints.

She knew she could escape, she had trained in harsher conditions and situations before, Octavian had demanded it, but now she had nowhere to escape to. Even if she were to escape, her former master would likely hunt her down, as was customary, and on her own facing the assassin fleet was suicide. The will to fight was lost on her, and Jedi justice would probably be more merciful and painless than whatever Octavian would do to her.

"If you do not say anything there is no way I can help you," Obi-wan said after his initial speech was ignored. Araminta just gave him a look. "What's your name?" he began again.

"What do you care?" she finally said back, completely casual, as if she were talking with an old friend.

If the Jedi was surprised she'd finally said something, he didn't show it. "Well, I would prefer to know the name of the person who tried to assassinate me," Obi-wan replied, taking on the playfulness he had displayed during his combat with Araminta. She ignored him. "You're Adanei," he tried a different route, which also didn't work, as the species-card was lost on her. Obi-wan sighed. "Anakin, you try."

Araminta's eyes drifted to the padawan as he strolled over, switching the ship to autopilot, remembering the way he'd looked at her before she'd been subdued. She felt the anger simmer under her skin, at the pity he'd shown, at the way he'd been vulnerable at the same time he'd tried to pick out her vulnerability. And how he was right because she had hesitated and now she was here.

"Why did you run?" Anakin asked directly, and Araminta slightly turned her head to look at him, her silver facial tattoos catching the light.

"Did it look like I was winning? I'm not stupid. Taking on two Jedi without a lightsaber is dumb," Araminta reasoned, yet also partly lied.

"Even for someone sensitive to the Force?" Obi-wan questioned. He knew she was holding back.

Araminta rolled her eyes. "Do the math. I have three knives; you have a plasma blade that can cut through any material."

"There was also two of us," Anakin pointed out.

"Doesn't matter," Araminta replied. There was a moment of silence as the two Jedi debated how to break their stubborn prisoner, Obi-wan looking calm and collected while his padawan seemed