[Episode IV - Cat.A][L9 - Coruscant - NR3F] A Jedi Fights Only When He Must

The Koensayr executives froze as Black Sun enforcers poured into the suite's meeting room. Heavy boots thumbed on polished Durosian marble as the Falleen leveled their blasters at the shaking Gran.

"What do you want from us?" stammered Ank Rhees, the CEO. "What does Black Sun want from Koensayr?"

One of the thugs approached the end of the table where the Gran huddled, pheromones wafting off of him in a musky cloud.

"You don't need to worry about a thing. Just sit back and wait."

Overcome by the calming pheromones, the Gran settled into a meek, pliable state. The thug pressed his blaster into Rhees' face.

"We're just looking to cause some chaos. But a nice, fat ransom payment wouldn't hurt either."

Harsh laughter rang out from the Sunners.

Then the doors slid open, revealing a figure cloaked in simple robes. A slight smile split the face of a young man with sun-bleached hair. Weapons clattered as the thugs spun to confront this newcomer.

"You won't be needing those, friends."

The man spoke, and with a sharp gesture, the blasters flew from the Sunner's hands and across the room.

"And those pheromones won't work either. Not on a Jedi."

Confusion resolved into fear as the Falleen recognized the man at last. They almost welcomed the New Republic troopers that poured in after him, cuffing them and slapping pheromone inhibitors on their necks. His name rang through their minds even as they were marched off to the prisoner transports.

Luke Skywalker.

Empty room showing all of the wall art.