Taproom Tussle
Posted on Wed Jul 29th, 2026 @ 9:42pm by Mentis & Reave & Kalen "Rex" Vickers
4,883 words; about a 24 minute read
Chapter:
Chapter IX: The First Verse
Location: Xagobah Taproom, Dunari's Delight, Mayagil Sector
Timeline: After "Taproom Tumble"
Nearby, Mentis had followed Reave up instinctively, the moment the Jawa hopped up.
"Wait, Reave!" he hissed but, much like Rex, also failed to stop their triggered friend. The Jawa was already standing atop the table, oversized hat bobbing as the repeating blaster spat a storm of bolts across the cantina.
Mentis’ head rose just long enough to catch a glimpse of Miun and his semicircle of gunmen. Miun’s single eye locked onto him with predatory clarity. The Sullustan’s scowl deepened and his blaster snapped toward Mentis.
The bolt tore past where Mentis’ skull had been a heartbeat earlier.
He dropped back down, breath tight, blasterfire skidding across the booth’s fabric and punching smoking holes into the plastisynth cushions above them. His eyes flicked rapidly, trying to reconstruct the room from memory: exits, shooters, angles, cover.
"…too packed in…" he muttered, jaw tight, "…can’t get over there."
A thought struck him. His brow lifted.
He leaned toward Rex, voice sharp and urgent.
"Give me a blaster."
Rex looked at Mentis as though he'd just suggested wrestling a rancor.
"What?" Another volley ripped across the cantina. "No! Get the laser sword out!"
"No, Rex, you gotta' trust me on this one," Mentis stretched himself across the table, keeping as flat as he could, "A saber won't do much good here even if the one we built had a length adjuster."
His mismatched eyes darted and he squinted as though listening or sensing out the room.
"I might not look it, but I can hold my own with a blaster, particularly when I can use my wizard senses to line up a shot. Seriously, trust me on this one."
His eyes settled forwards again, saying something else unspoken that seemed to have become all too familiar between the pair of them.
Rex opened his mouth and closed it again. A blue stun ring hissed over the booth, splashing against the wall behind them.
"Right." His eyes darted around the taproom. Overturned tables and panicked civilians. Station security bursting through the entrance from the concourse-
"Security! Weapons down!"
Three uniformed officers, a Human, a Bith and Ithorian, barely made it two steps. Twin blue stun bolts struck the first squarely in the chest. The second disappeared beneath a barrage of covering fire. The third managed one return shot before collapsing beside the doorway, twitching.
"Yeah." Rex sighed. "I see your point."
He slowly drew his DL-18 heavy blaster from its worn leather holster.
Cindra.
He regarded it mournfully for half a second. He then looked at Mentis. "If you bust her..." He reluctantly placed the grip into the Rattataki's waiting hand. "I'm sendin' you the repair bill along with the costs for the Janna!"
Another burst of repeater fire thundered overhead as Reave whooped triumphantly from somewhere on top of the booth.
"And I get to use the lightsaber next time!"
Mentis brought his arm across and rested it atop Cindra for a moment as he re-affirmed, "She'll be fine," before allowing himself a minute smirk.
He examined the blaster a moment, testing the trigger faintly with his finger. Then something came across his face, like a shiver rippling up his spine and he suddenly rose, angling his body to avoid another shimmering blue ripple, before spinning the barrel to a precise angle and firing. The bolt struck a Trandoshan to the left of Miun in the upper chest with enough impact to send him tumbling backwards and straight over a bar stool. The Sullustan leader flinched only slightly, quickly turning to return fire in Mentis' direction but the Rattataki had ducked back down already.
Mentis bunkered down as Miun unloaded a blurry of strong shots right at the cushioning of the booth above Mentis' head until the surface broke and a spray of singed stuffing burst out and drifted down like ashfall upon them. Mentis eyed Rex and cocked his head before again returning to an almost trance like state of waiting. The second the hail of blaster fire ceased, he was up again; this time aiming to the far right where a young Weequay had just reloaded and popped his head up from another booth further along. He was met with a bolt clipping his face and he disappeared back down again in sync with Mentis.
Rex simply stared. A slow grin spread across his face despite the blaster fire ripping through the cantina.
Another crimson bolt then screamed overhead, forcing him lower as shards of transparisteel cascaded from a shattered viewport behind them.
Nearby, Reave was jabbering industriously to himself. The enormous repeating blaster had begun belching thick grey smoke from vents along its housing. Entirely unfazed, the Jawa produced an equally improbable hydrospanner from somewhere within his clothing and began enthusiastically attacking the weapon's exposed cooling assembly with a series of confident taps.
A heartbeat later the smoking subsided.
With obvious satisfaction, Reave made some high-pitched declaration, slammed the access panel shut with the heel of his tiny hand and immediately resumed hosing the hunters' position with another deafening torrent of blaster fire.
Across the taproom, one of the armed patrons rose from behind an overturned drinks cabinet to return fire. He managed three hurried shots before a heavy bolt struck him squarely in the chest. The impact lifted him clean off his feet and sent him crashing backwards over a table, scattering cards and bottles across the floor.
Rex's grin vanished.
By this time, Jiljoo and her companions had managed to creep to their own sites of cover and were laying down additional fire. Jiljoo stayed fairly low and close to the doctor and was taking shots at whatever she could see of the intruders between the growing heaps of debris between the two parties. Most of the others were similarly cautious with their fire but still keeping up the pressure to buy Buhggs some time.
Doctor Buhggs snapped the final casing shut with an audible click.
"There."
He held one of the compact emitters up between thumb and forefinger, inspecting it with obvious satisfaction before carefully tucking the remaining devices into the inside of his coat.
Another blaster bolt then punched through the tabletop above him, showering both him and Jiljoo with fragments of faux wood and other powdered synthetic materials.
Buhggs did not so much as flinch.
"I was always expecting someone to try and kill us again eventually," he said, and he experimentally flexed his wounded shoulder. His face twisted as his gaze drifted towards the injury. "Frustrating they chose that arm. My throw is probably about as good as yours, now.."
He looked across the taproom as Mentis appeared briefly above the booth, calmly placing another precise shot before disappearing beneath cover again. Buhggs watched him for a second.
"Hm."
Without taking his eyes off the Rattataki, Buhggs thrust one of the devices into Jiljoo's hands.
"Get the pale Jedi." A second emitter followed. "Tell him to distribute these amongst the hunters." A faintly satisfied expression crept across the H'nemthe's face.
"Got it doctor," Jiljoo pocketed her blaster and grasped up the rest of the EM emitters, "This will slow zem' down for sure."
He rose up a bit, flinching as a blaster bolt almost immediately flew towards her, causing her to instead barrel forwards and shunt herself back into the booth, throwing Mentis off his trance as he found himself awkwardly compressed into the corner.
"What on earth are you doing?" the Rattataki yelped angrily, shunting her elbow away from where it was uncomfortably digging into his side, "This isn't the time..."
Before he could chastise further, the Twi'lek shot in, "Mentis, take zese'," she shuffled back slightly and revealed three small metallic disks, which she prodded in his direction, "Zey' are tiny EM emitters. Throw zem' at ze' shooters and it will fry their weapons and gadgets. Very effective little things."
He eyed her sideways before grasping one of the devices and turning it in his hands, getting a sense for it and feeling for the activator. As he felt the weight in his hands, he found himself falling into that precognitive trace again, seeing the perfect angle to throw the devices at for maximum effect. Something about the chaos, the panic, yet the stability of having Rex by his side made the immediate future so less mystifying.
Without a further word, he slid Cindra back over to Rex and grasped the other emitters. He knew he had only the briefest window to cast them all out and he needed to do it simultaneously for it to work at all. With a deep breath, he rose again, Jiljoo's eyes following him up as he went.
He pressed the activators and cast two of the devices to the far end of the taproom. They began beeping and flashing immediately and Miun was already bringing his blaster around at Mentis again as the Rattataki activated the final emitter and skidded it low along the ground. The Sullustan’s weapon discharged as Mentis began descending again, twisting himself down into the seat again. He was a little slow, however, and the bolt caught his side right where Jiljoo had elbowed him before and he felt the searing heat on his flesh as he came crashing down once more into the booth.
Miun smirked at the hit, but immediately transitioned to a grimace as his eyes fell to the flashing diode that had just stopped at his feet. At first glance it appeared almost insignificant amidst the wreckage of shattered glasses, spent power packs and splintered furniture now littering the ground between the combatants.
He frowned as his eye settled upon the tiny diode set into its surface.
It pulsed once and then again - and his expression faltered, the amusement draining away almost imperceptibly. With the absent irritation of a man removing some minor inconvenience from his path, he nudged the object aside with the edge of his boot. The movement was almost dismissive, yet his attention did not leave it. He had seen enough battlefields to know that insignificant objects had a habit of becoming very significant indeed.
As he fully realised what it was in those brief half-seconds, a harsh warning burst from him in rapid Sullustese. He swept an arm across the floor before him, barking another command as several of the hunters instinctively turned towards him, uncertain what had drawn their leader's eye.
All three emitters chirped in near unison then the taproom detonated in a storm of electromagnetic fury.
A crackling sphere of white‑blue energy erupted outward from the floor, racing across overturned tables and shattered glass. Every blaster, visor, datapad, commlink, targeting scope and powered gauntlet within its reach screamed as their circuits overloaded. Weapons sparked violently, several bursting apart in showers of molten fragments. Others simply died mid‑charge, their barrels drooping as the power cells cooked themselves into slag.
A Rodian’s rifle blew apart in his hands, sending him tumbling backward with a yelp. A Nikto’s visor went dark, the HUD flickering out as he clawed at it in panic. Even Miun’s prized pistol jerked violently, spat one last dying spark, and dropped from his hand with a pathetic metallic clunk.
The semicircle of hunters staggered, blinded, disarmed, and suddenly very aware that the fight had turned.
For a fleeting moment Miun remained exactly where he stood, his gaze resting upon the blaster pistol in his hand as the weapon convulsed violently, spat a shower of bright orange sparks across his hand and finally fell silent. His fingers then opened and the pistol struck the floor with a dull metallic clatter. Already, his hands had found the hilts that rested at either side of his belt.
The shortswords came free with the measured rasp of steel against leather. They were not beautiful weapons - time had robbed them of any pretence to elegance. Their darkened blades bore countless nicks, scratches and shallow chips, each one the quiet record of a previous encounter that had ended with the weapon still in its owner's possession.
Miun did not so much as glance towards his allies as he crossed the distance between him and his foes. He crossed it with startling speed. His stride was short but astonishingly economical, carrying him through the maze of overturned tables without hesitation or wasted movement. A Duros, perhaps emboldened by seeing the bounty hunters disarmed, stepped into his path with some manner of melee weapon raised uncertainly before him.
Miun's leading blade swept low in a single movement. The edge sheared across the man's boot and into the flesh beneath. The Duros cried out, collapsing heavily as his wounded foot vanished from beneath him. Before he had even struck the floor, Miun had already passed him.
One foot landed upon the edge of an overturned table and the wood flexed beneath his weight and he used it to spring forward.
Reave had only just finished wrestling with the cooling assembly of his repeater when the Sullustan reached him. A compact boot drove squarely into the Jawa's chest with surprising force, lifting the diminutive Tatooinian clean from his perch. Reave disappeared backwards in a blur of brown robes and furious, utterly incomprehensible abuse in his own tongue, colliding bodily with Mentis and carrying both the Rattataki's aim and the heavy repeater away from the fight.
Miun landed lightly amongst the debris. One blade remained close, guarding the line of his advance, whilst the second started a merciless arc sweeping towards Jiljoo.
Jiljoo reached for her blaster a heartbeat too late. Miun’s blade was already descending, forcing her into a panicked backward dive that slammed her against the bar hard enough to rattle every glass on its surface. The Sullustan was on her instantly, shadow looming, shortsword poised to strike.
Her eyes went wide. Her heart hammered. She grabbed the first thing her hand touched: a half‑empty liquor bottle and swung it with every ounce of terrified strength she had. The glass cracked against Miun’s cheek‑flaps with a wet, splintering thud, sending him staggering downwards in a spray of liquor.
She shrieked as his weight lurched toward her, scrambling upright and shoving him away with a frantic kick. Her hand found her blaster at last. She pointed it down at him and fired an erratic stun bolt that caught him squarely, making his limbs jolt and his body flop sideways. Even stunned, he clawed at the floor, muscles twitching, sticky liquor dripping down his armour.
"You think you can take Dunari’s Delight?" she hissed, breath shaking, "You’ll find we bite back."
A sizzling hiss cut through the chaos. White‑blue light erupted behind Miun as Mentis appeared, lightsaber in one hand, the other clutched tight against his scorched side. He held the blade over the Sullustan but fixed Jiljoo with a pained, exasperated look.
"Maybe stop antagonising them now, Jiljoo," he grunted, "I'd rather not take another blaster bolt, if it can be avoided."
For a few moments longer the fighting continued in ragged pockets across the taproom, though the electromagnetic blast had shattered whatever order remained amongst the bounty hunters. Their disciplined firing line dissolved into a dozen isolated struggles as ruined blasters were discarded, smoking gauntlets torn from wrists and crackling targeting visors ripped from bewildered faces. Those patrons who had spent the opening moments cowering beneath tables or behind booths now found fresh courage in the sight before them, whilst more members of Dunari's Delight's staff poured in from adjoining corridors armed with shock staves, heavy spanners, serving trays and whatever else had been close to hand.
Reave adapted to the changing battle with characteristic enthusiasm. The enormous repeating blaster had finally exhausted itself, its power pack spent after the sustained barrage, yet the little Jawa appeared entirely untroubled by the development. Grasping the weapon by its forward housing with both hands, he swung the heavy durasteel stock into the side of a hunter's head head with a resounding crack that dropped the hunter where he stood.
A second assailant attempted to seize him from behind, only for Reave to duck beneath the grasp with surprising agility before driving the butt of the repeater backwards into the hunter's stomach. As the bounty hunter doubled over, Reave completed the exchange with another emphatic blow across the side of his head, leaving him unconscious amongst the splintered remains of an overturned chair.
The momentum had shifted completely.
One hunter surrendered his vibroknife to a recovered station security officer. Another was dragged bodily to the floor beneath three determined patrons who had evidently decided enough was enough. A Rodian attempted to flee towards the concourse before tripping over a length of fallen cabling and immediately finding himself pinned beneath two burly members of the kitchen staff.
Doctor Buhggs observed the scene from behind his cover whilst applying fresh pressure to the dressing over his wounded shoulder. His eyes followed Reave as the Jawa calmly slung the enormous repeater over one shoulder before reaching into the depths of his robes and producing a thick cigarra.
The doctor regarded him thoughtfully. There was something unmistakably approving about the sound he made.
Reave noticed the attention immediately. Tilting his hat, he rummaged through his robes once more before triumphantly producing a second cigarra which, although somewhat bent, appeared perfectly serviceable. He held it out towards the H'nemthe without a word.
Buhggs looked from the offered cigarra to the Jawa and accepted it in silent thanks.
Reave gave an enthusiastic stream of Jawaese, produced a battered igniter from somewhere within his sleeves and leaned forward to light the doctor's cigarra before returning to his own with obvious satisfaction.
Across the taproom, Miun remained where he had fallen.
One hand still rested stubbornly around the hilt of his shortsword despite lacking the strength to lift it. The residual effects of the stun charge continued to work through his body in involuntary tremors, whilst blood seeped steadily between the plates of his armour to mingle with the liquor still running across his dew-flap.
His eye wandered slowly across the ruined cantina. He watched another of his hunters disarmed. Another was restrained and another was dragged away beneath the watchful gaze of station security.
Months spent rebuilding his reputation since Jericho seemed to unravel before him in silence. This had been meant to restore the legend. A forty-million-credit bounty. A notorious crew. Witnesses enough to carry tales of Miun the Mighty throughout Hutt Space once more.
Instead...
His gaze drifted briefly towards the broken bottle lying amongst the shattered glass. Then it lifted, finding Mentis standing over him, the pale glow of the lightsaber casting long reflections across the debris.
"...Jedi..."
The word escaped him little louder than a whisper. He swallowed.
"...Finish it."
His breathing caught before he forced himself onwards.
"People remember... hunters... killed by Jedi..."
Miun’s words hung in the air like smoke.
Mentis tightened his grip on the hilt. The blade hummed, casting pale light across the Sullustan’s face. He could feel the old instinct rising at the invitation: that cold, sharp certainty that ending a threat now was cleaner than letting it linger. His breath hitched. His fingers twitched.
Jiljoo stepped forward, trembling slightly with adrenaline but still carrying a softness in her voice.
"Don't give him what he wants," she said, softer than the chaos around them. "Zis’ man is a killer, yes, but killing him now will not end zis’ cycle."
Her eyes flicked down, grief tightening her throat.
"I know what Bomoor did to Voq... and why. Zat’ was grief and I don’t know if I would have had any more strength if I... if I were where he was in zat' moment," she swallowed hard, the words catching, "I will not judge you, Mentis, but you will be stronger for sparing him. Let justice take him. Not your blade."
Mentis didn’t look at her. His jaw clenched. The blade dipped a fraction closer to Miun’s chest.
Rex slowly climbed over the wreckage of the booth, blaster still held loosely in one hand. His eyes lingered on Miun for a long moment before settling upon Mentis. There was no humour upon his face now, only the tired expression of a man who had seen too many fights end in exactly this fashion.
"He'll try again." Nobody answered him and Rex shrugged faintly. "That's just who he is." His gaze drifted down towards the wounded Sullustan. "I've known Miun a long time. Longer than I'd care to admit." He scratched thoughtfully at the back of his neck. "He's a vicious little bastard. Proud, too. Whole life's built around bein' the toughest name in the room." He let the silence settle for a moment. "If you let him walk outta here, he'll spend the rest of his life tryin' to erase today."
There was another pause as the Human gave it more thought.
"If you kill him..." His eyes lifted back to Mentis. "...he gets exactly the story he wants." He holstered the blaster. "So don't make the choice for him." He nodded once towards Miun. "Make it for you."
Rex then stepped back and leaned on the remains of a nearby chair, as he kept speaking, voice low and easy. His words now carried the weight of someone starting to appreciate the complexities of what it meant to be a 'space wizard'.
"I ain't a Jedi," he added, his expression softened ever so slightly. "But I reckon you're about to decide whether you might be."
Buhggs gave an audible snort as soon as Rex stopped speaking.
"What romantic nonsense." He took another measured draw upon the cigarra before removing it from his beak, smoke clouding his features for a moment. "The bounty hunter has already informed us precisely what he intends to do if permitted to survive. He will recover and he will seek to rebuild his reputation. He will almost certainly murder several individuals in pursuit of that objective." The H'nemthe regarded Mentis with clinical detachment. "You are not choosing between life and death for just one being, my pasty friend.
His beady eyes twitched as he regarded the Rattataki.
"He simply proposes that it be only him, here and now." Another thin stream of smoke escaped as he replaced the cigarra, his voice adjusting around the clamped rolled narcotic. "Personally, I find the mathematics rather compelling. Give him what he wants. Why do we care of he thinks it glorious - it's worth nothing to the dead."
Mentis’ jaw clenched hard enough to ache.
"For kark's sake" he muttered, breath shaking, "Will all of you just..."
He didn’t finish. The words broke apart under the pressure in his chest. He wasn’t angry at them; not really. He was angry at himself. Angry that he cared what they thought. Angry that their voices mattered more than the one screaming in his head telling him to end this now.
Mentis’ mismatched eyes narrowed. A flicker of that old darkness rose: sharp, familiar, comforting.
"I’m not a Jedi," he said quietly.
The blade dipped closer. Miun’s breath hitched.
For a heartbeat, the room held still.
Then Mentis exhaled: a long, frustrated, exhausted breath. Then the blade snapped shut with a hiss.
"No," he said, voice low and tight, "Not this time."
Miun’s eye widened in disbelief.
Mentis leaned in, his tone dark but steady.
"You don’t get the death you want, you won't claim this bounty and if I ever have to hear your name again, I will make it my personal mission to hunt you down and correct whatever sad existence you have scraped together after this."
He straightened and turned towards the others, wincing as pain flared along his scorched side.
"And for the record," he added, voice sharp, "I’m not doing this because any of you told me to."
His gaze flicked to Rex - the only one he allowed a softer note for.
"I’m doing it because I have a choice... and I choose to be better."
He did not need to turn to feel the tremendous grin burning itself onto Jiljoo's face just in his periphery while Buhggs simply stood with the same emotionless pazaak-face.
He stepped back from Miun, letting station security move in, the other members of Miun's crew either dead or subdued.
Rex smiled, but it was not the crooked grin he ordinarily employed when a scheme had succeeded, nor the broad and theatrical expression with which he greeted some fresh absurdity aboard the Red Raptor. It arrived quietly and without permission, softening his weathered features as Mentis spoke, and remained there for several seconds before Rex appeared to realise what his face was doing. He cleared his throat, glanced towards the ruined taproom and quickly brought the expression back beneath control.
The refusal appeared to restore something within Miun, however, that the stun blast had temporarily driven from him. His eye widened, first with disbelief and then with an anger so complete that it overcame whatever dignity he had managed to preserve upon the floor. A rasping stream of Sullustese burst from his throat as he twisted onto one elbow, his weakened fingers clawing against the scattered glass in an effort to drag himself after Mentis.
The movement carried him scarcely half a metre. Miun reached towards the Rattataki with one trembling hand, spluttering what might have been a threat, an insult or some desperate promise that this encounter would not be forgotten. His wounded body refused to follow the urgency of his will, but he continued to struggle nevertheless, boots scraping across the floor as he attempted to gather one knee beneath himself.
One of the station security officers stepped into his path.
"Stay down!"
Miun answered with another furious outburst and lunged for the officer's leg.
The security officer sighed, adjusted his grip upon the stun baton and drove its crackling end firmly into the joint between two plates of the Sullustan's armour. Blue current coursed across Miun's body, drawing one last strangled sound from him before every muscle seized and he collapsed face-first amongst the broken glass and spilled liquor.
The remaining officers moved quickly now that their leader had been subdued. Magnetic restraints closed around wrists, discarded weapons were kicked beyond reach and the surviving hunters were brought upright one after another. Some submitted in resentful silence, whilst others required the assistance of armed patrons and several particularly enthusiastic members of the kitchen staff before they could be dragged towards the concourse.
Rex watched Miun being rolled onto his back and secured with considerably more restraints than his size might ordinarily have warranted. The corner of his mouth threatened to rise again, but he resisted it.
"Miun the Mighty," he observed, holstering Cindra. "Always did know how to leave a room."
Doctor Buhggs offered no judgement upon Mentis' decision. The H'nemthe merely shook his head, whether in disappointment, disbelief or simple resignation remaining characteristically impossible to determine. He stepped carefully around an unconscious Rodian, found one of the few chairs that had survived without losing any essential components and turned it upright beside the bar.
After lowering himself into it, Buhggs surveyed the bottles still standing upon the shelves. His attention settled upon a short glass which, through some improbable alignment of overturned furniture and sheer statistical fortune, had survived the entire engagement without spilling more than a fraction of its contents.
He reached for it with his uninjured arm, inspected the drink, removed a tiny fragment of plastisynth from its surface with one digit, and then raised the glass towards Mentis in a gesture that bore the outward appearance of respect, though the faint tilt of his head rendered it just mocking enough to remain recognisably his own.
"To your conscience."
Mentis, who had disengaged his blade, now returned the hilt to his belt, tucking it gently out if sight below his jacket.
"To hoping I never have to follow through on that threat," he raised his hand in an invisible toast only to find a glass being thrust into it by Jiljoo, who clinked it with her own.
"Zat' brute will think twice before messing with you again," she beamed, although the beads of sweat and liquor still clung to her green-hued forehead, "I can see why Bomoor believes in you."
Mentis sighed, releasing some of his earlier tension as he looked at the sorry mix of sentients that surrounded him. He rubbed at the scorched side beneath his jacket, wincing.
"I'd just like to believe in myself most days," he eyed the glass of drink in his hands before taking a sip of whatever sickly sweet fermentation Jiljoo had procured from the bar, "But, speaking of the rambling Ithorian, I couldn't help but notice he was on that bounty too along with Tha... uh, Serus."
He turned to look at Rex, a solemn expression creeping in, "If they found us here, I reckon they'll have some company as well. I think our little break on Dunari's Delight is at an end."
MENTIS
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