The rain hadn't let up since the twin moons rose over Lothal's cracked skyline, casting long silver streaks against the industrial haze. The streets of the lower districts were slick with oil and runoff, turning the alleys into dark veins that snaked through the city’s underbelly. Perfect cover for someone who didn’t want to be seen. Ahsoka moved like a shadow—silent, hood pulled low, boots barely whispering over the cracked duracrete. Her lekku swayed with each calculated turn, her presence obscured beneath a cloak dark enough to swallow her whole. She paused at a corner, pressing herself into the arch of a broken archway as a pair of stormtroopers passed, their blasters gleaming and their helmets casting the blank-eyed menace of the Empire. Their boots echoed... then faded. She exhaled softly, almost annoyed. Too many patrols tonight. Someone had stirred the nest. Her contact had failed to show at the drop point. Unusual. And dangerous. Slipping deeper into the alleyways, Ahsoka moved through the silence with surgical precision—every footstep premeditated, every breath under control. Her senses were open, tuned to the currents of the Force. Somewhere nearby, she felt tension—disturbance. A ripple. She passed through a crumbling arch into a narrow corridor where neon signs blinked erratically above locked doors and broken windows. One hand drifted near the edge of her belt, fingers brushing the cold metal of her hilt—white, smooth, patient. Then she stopped. It wasn’t a sound. Not really. More like a presence. A pulse of something she couldn’t ignore. Something watching her from the darkness just ahead. Her head tilted slightly, and she let her hand linger over her lightsaber, still hidden beneath her cloak. And that’s when the figure stepped out. You.