Tatooine: Shattered Illusions.

"Why did you run away?" the mercenary asked from his dusty chair.

Olga's house could be described as one big dusty mess, with various objects strewn about in a chaotic manner. It was clear that nobody had cleaned or organized anything for a long time. The lack of a woman's touch was evident, as there was no effort to make the place look more homely. After all, what could you expect from two bachelors sharing a roof?

On one side stood a refrigerator, surrounded by scattered and oil-stained mechanical parts. It seemed as if nobody had bothered to clean the area around it for quite some time. On the other side were small metal crates with blankets, likely used by Run as a makeshift bed while the homeowner occupied his own bedroom. It would have been quite odd if they shared the same bed.

Run was perched on one of the crates, covering his injured groin with his legs. His expression clearly conveyed anger. Creatures like him tended to vent their negative emotions either on nearby people or objects, breaking them into pieces. However, at the moment, he was cautiously eyeing the woman standing by the wall, next to the broken door. The ambal licked his lips apprehensively, still feeling the cold steel of her blaster barrel on his tongue.

The mercenary twirled the blaster in her hand, which had recently found its way into Run's mouth. A draft from the damaged door rustled her cloak and brought in more sand. Not only the muscular giant was afraid of her wrath; the homeowner was also wary of the woman, rubbing his bruised and aching wrists after their close encounter. His lungs, nearly bursting during the chase, would certainly refuse to participate in a second round. Tired legs were in full agreement.

It could be said that almost all the men in the room had suffered at the hands of the mercenary. Her mere presence seemed to change the atmosphere in the untidy shack. Raphael lazily got up, walked to the open window from which the Rodian had leaped and closed it. The swirling dust and sand in the room quickly settled, and the wind was no longer free to roam as it pleased.

"Because I understood right away why you came," grumbled the walking fish.

"Well, we could have a peaceful conversation instead of starting trouble for no reason," the mercenary replied, kicking the overturned dining table nearby.

"These conversations always end up in the same place—fisticuffs!" the Rodian raised his voice, but when he saw that the woman had stopped twirling her blaster on her finger, his combative mood dissipated.

"I don't get it," Raphael sighed heavily. "Why are you two still alive?"

"That's none of your business," he waved his hand dismissively. "But don't think I got lucky. See where I live?" The alien gestured around the rundown dwelling. "I'm destitute! I go from job to job, trying to make ends meet. Now I've got to fix the damn door!"

"If you hadn't run away, none of this would have happened!" Raphael exclaimed. "I had to fight that hulking behemoth!"

"Well, Runril does love a good fight," the Rodian replied, smiling contentedly.

The heavily muscled, gray-skinned Ambal, with a face resembling something out of fantasy lore, merely snorted loudly through his massive nostrils, from which the tips of dark hairs protruded. With this gesture, he expressed his lack of interest in the boy's combat skills, but that was the most he could do while a furious fury was in the room.

"Listen, we came here for money, so we need credits, understand?" the mercenary said.

"I understand," the Rodian nodded decisively. "But I don't have any money."

"Then we need to figure out how to get them," he shook off the sand from the chair before sitting down on it.

A peculiar silence hung in the room, not tense but rather interested, because the mercenary's words had clearly touched a few chords in the Rodian's soul. It might be hard to notice it from his dark, bulging eyes, but he was genuinely contemplating something.

Raphael didn't rush him for an answer. Sev'rance also refrained from getting too involved in the conversation, preferring to observe from the sidelines. She was ready to use not only her blaster but also her combat skills at any moment. The blaster was for the behemoth, and her other skills would serve as a handy tool in dealing with the overly annoying Rodian.

"In fact, there is an option," Olga finally spoke up.

"I'm listening," Raphael leaned forward.

"When I still owned a refueling station, pirates used to buy fuel from me. Once, one of them, in a drunken stupor, blabbed about how they had organized a stash on one of the remote planets in the Outer Rim. We could infiltrate there and steal everything that's poorly guarded!"

"Are you serious?" he asked skeptically. "And how many of us will be there?"

"We're all here," the Rodian replied with perhaps a bit too much self-assuredness.

"Don't you think..." Raphael began, considering everything. "Attacking a warehouse with such a small team is a very dangerous idea."

"With him," he nodded toward Run, "and her," and then gestured at Sev'rance, "we can handle it."

Tann, to put it mildly, was not pleased with the Rodian's business-like tone. It was as if he thought it was acceptable for him to dictate terms in this situation. Normally, in such situations, she would eagerly put those who forgot their place back in their place, ensuring they wouldn't dare look down on her again. However, just one glance at her teacher's back nearly extinguished any desire to intervene in the conversation, all due to a very basic fear for her own life.

Hassan seemed to taunt her inadvertently, waiting for some kind of reaction from his student. If she reacted, it might mean that tonight her bones would protrude from her body again. This image would haunt Tann for a very long time.

"Do you even have a plan?" Raphael asked a logical question. "And why haven't you organized such an operation before?"

"I don't have a plan yet," Olga thoughtfully replied. "The mercenaries would have demanded an advance payment, and I don't have any money."

"Then we'll leave the planning to my partner," Sev'rance was taken aback when her teacher referred to her.

"Sure, she'll definitely come up with something," his hand again made his palms ache.

Although Sev'rance didn't expect the conversation to suddenly turn to her, she was pleased that she had the reins of control, now allowed by her teacher. She felt a long-lost taste of power and control over the situation. This was what she had been missing lately! Furthermore, this was her chance to establish herself in the eyes of her teacher, elevating her importance to him. She couldn't afford to mess up the heist.

"How many people guard the stash?" she asked sternly.

"Not that many. Most of them are either out looking for loot or getting drunk at the base."

Tann rolled her eyes under her helmet. He just said what she already knew! In other words, Olga had no useful information and was merely wasting their time. Such a disrespectful attitude was truly getting on her nerves. She was hanging by a thread to avoid smacking the Rodian and forcing him to provide some useful information.

The prolonged silence spoke volumes about her displeasure. The burly man tensed up a bit, sensing trouble, and Olga realized that he couldn't get away with such superficial information. Both of them really didn't want to engage in combat with an armed and dangerous fury, so the first one hesitated in his place, and the second one shamefully lowered his head.

"So here's the deal," she began in a commanding tone, "both of you will start gathering information and find us a ship right now. You must do this by tomorrow to avoid keeping us waiting."

"But..." the Rodian was about to object.

Sev'rance swiftly moved closer to him and pressed the muzzle of her blaster to his forehead. The terrified debtor, clearly not expecting such a turn of events, trembled in his chair, acutely aware of the thirst for murder that Tann had been carefully restraining all this time. The ambal stood up from his makeshift bed, ready to attack the girl from behind, but was stopped by the second blaster, which was now pointed at him by Raphael.

"Just because I fought you hand-to-hand doesn't mean I don't have a gun in my pocket," he casually remarked, signaling him to sit back down. Of course, Run wasn't foolish enough to confront armed mercenaries.

"Now listen to me, bug-eyes," she began poking him in the forehead with the blaster muzzle to suppress any hints of resistance, "we came here to clean up your own mess! You should be grateful that we didn't sell your bald friend into slavery just to somehow pay off your debt! So today, you will find us a ship, use all your connections, and gather useful information for us! I don't care how you do it, but you must do it! Our task is to make you repay Jabba, but that doesn't mean you have to remain intact during the process! If you don't meet the deadline, I'll cut off one of your fingers. If you're late for another day, you'll lose a second one. Do you understand me?!"

During Sev'rance' brief monologue, Raphael and Run fell completely silent. The first one simply sat there, marveling at his partner's tough character, while the latter grew even paler than usual. The Rodian, on the other hand, completely gave in, as the poor guy seemed on the verge of tears at any moment. She suppressed both of them with her presence, fully confirming her dominant position over them.

"I-I-I understand," he barely managed to stammer out.

"We're your last hope," Raphael spoke up, getting up and discreetly tucking his blaster back under his coat. "Don't miss the chance to shake off Jabba. We'll drop by tomorrow at lunch."

"O-okay..."

With great reluctance, Sev'rance removed the blaster from his forehead and followed the teacher. Outside, they were immediately greeted by the familiar wind, which once again began to play with their cloaks. The only problem was that Raphael's blaster was not visible on his belt.

Tann fell silent. She wasn't sure if she had done everything right. She didn't fully understand the role she had to play, so, in other words, she was walking on thin ice. The situation was further complicated by Hassan's silence.

"You did well, you handled it nicely," he said as if he had read her thoughts.

"Thank you," she breathed a sigh of relief.

Suddenly, he roughly grabbed her by the throat and forcefully pulled the bewildered Tann into an alley, where he pinned her against the wall. He had no fear of close contact with her, as he was literally pressed against her body, especially... his cracked glass mask, which was just a few millimeters from the visor of her helmet.

Her thoughts were completely scrambled. His fingers gripped her throat, and his knee pressed against her intimate area between her legs, as if he was trying to dominate her completely. In such a situation, anyone would resist, but sheer terror paralyzed the poor girl, making her afraid to offer any resistance. The cracked mask, with absolute darkness visible through the eye slits, frightened her the most.

"To my surprise, you behaved well, though I was sure you would do something stupid again," his tone was no longer kind. "Keep it up, Sev'rance," he abruptly released his fingers and stepped back from her, letting the student fall to the ground. "And you will be rewarded."

"Cough! Cough!" The frightened girl immediately began coughing, still on all fours.

"I hope we understand each other now," he said, crouching down in front of her, now wearing his regular helmet, which he had worn earlier. "I'm sorry, but it had to be done," and he gently stroked her head. His voice had softened as well.

The rapid change in Hassan's behavior sent a shiver down Tann's spine. She had only just begun to feel in control, and he immediately showed that it was just an illusion. He was the one in charge here, not her.