Max had zero experience with street brawls—either in this life or his last. But raw power beats fancy tricks. With the Force reinforcing a Mandalorian body, dealing with Black Sun's so-called "street-fight experts" was effortless.3
Max's moves were… weird. But they were undeniably effortless. A bottle, a plate, even some random ingredient—whatever he seemed to casually toss always hit a rushing thug's support foot with uncanny precision, sending the guy pitching forward into the dirt like a total faceplant.4
The thrown objects were just misdirection. What Max was actually using was a variation on Force choke—Force trip. It cost less effort and worked better. Borrowed momentum: the harder they charged, the harder they ate it.4
The tabletop was cleared. The punks were all sprawled on the ground. Max swept his gaze over the scene, feeling crisp and refreshed—almost blissed out. Even that restless black vortex in his inner world calmed down noticeably.
He'd never have guessed it, but after two "steam-bath sessions" and a good fight, Max had an epiphany. He'd been searching everywhere—and then it landed in his lap.
Do what you want, but don't cross the line. That was the balance Max had finally grasped.1
Just like eating when you're hungry, drinking when you're thirsty, sleeping when you're tired—other desires should be treated the same way. Forcing yourself to suppress desire, or going fully abstinent, only makes it pile up deeper and deeper until it backfires. And indulging it completely—letting desire drive you—didn't even need explaining. That was the Sith way.
Go with your nature, let it flow, but don't indulge. That was how you reached balance.7
Of course, "do what you want" was easy. "Don't cross the line" was not. Max still had a long road ahead.
"Call the cops," Max told Lisa. He'd enjoyed the little display—now it was time to wrap it up.
"Sir, we should run!" Lisa clung tightly to his arm, visibly uneasy. "Calling the cops down here doesn't do anything."
(Perfect. Couldn't ask for better.) Max patted her hand, signaling her to relax. "It's fine. Do what I said—leave it to me."
...
"Go—cuff those two!" the police chief barked the moment he arrived. After exchanging a few words with the Black Sun goon with the skewer through his cheeks, he waved and ordered several officers forward to slap cuffs on Max and Lisa.2
"Whoa, hold on—hold on." Max raised both hands in surrender. "Cuff who? You're cuffing us?"
"Who else, you little nobody?" The cheek-pierced Black Sun goon perked right up. "You can fight, sure. So what? Out here, fists don't matter—connections do. Muscle needs a syndicate behind it. Who you run with, huh?"
Max obediently let the officer pull his arms behind his back, then asked as the cuffs went on, "Officer—what exactly are you charging us with?"
"Trafficking. Assault." While speaking, the officer patting him down found two lightsabers at Max's waist. "What the—lightsabers? You're even daring to imperson—"
"Jedi Master!"
Several meters away, the police chief dropped into a full-on knee-slide—like a holovid athlete celebrating a winning score—skidding straight over and throwing himself at Max's legs. He hugged Max's thigh, fumbled at the cuffs, and started begging for mercy all at once.1
"I was blind—didn't know who I was dealing with! Please, please forgive me! I've got an eighty-year-old mother at home and a toddler to feed—this job is how we survive!"3
The instant the chief hit the ground, the Black Sun goon and any of his boys who could still move scattered like startled mynocks and started bolting. Max didn't stop them. He just rolled his wrists as the cuffs came off and teased the chief:
"Hey—easy there. I'm no Jedi Master. You've got the wrong guy."
Two lightsabers on the belt, taking on twenty or thirty without a scratch—besides Jedi, the chief couldn't think of any other answer. Some classified mission? Something he shouldn't know? The chief had seen enough to understand one thing: he did not want the details.
"Whatever you say, it's whatever you say—just please forgive me!" The chief was practically sobbing. "I'll make it right! From now on I'll serve the people of Coruscant with my whole heart!"
"Call in backup and get these unlucky idiots to a medcenter," Max said, pointing at the punks who were still facedown and out cold.
"Yes! Yes!" The chief nodded so hard his neck looked in danger. "Now! Hurry—dispatch two more speeders!"
"And give us a lift," Max added, pointing at the police landspeeder flashing red-and-blue nearby. "We've still got a companion back at the Radiant Charm bar."1
"Of course—of course! Please, this way!"
(So… he's a Jedi?) Lisa lowered her head. Her chest felt hollow all of a sudden. (When his mission ends… what happens to me?)
...
Aayla Secura intercepted the police landspeeder halfway.
"Go back." The Jedi woman yanked open the speeder door, looking unusually dejected. "Calling the cops won't help."
"Well now, that's not right," the chief blurted. "How could calling the cops not help? The Coruscant Police serve the people of Coruscant with our whole hearts!"
Aayla clearly didn't want to dump her bad mood onto such an aggressively upbeat officer. She steadied herself and explained in a much brighter tone than before:
"Thank you for your work, Officer. That slug's paper trail is spotless—Radiant Charm's business, on the surface, is completely clean. Even if you go right now, you won't find anything."
"Hey—watch your language," Max said, putting on a serious face. "That's edging into species slur territory."
Aayla shot him a look and snapped, "Then have Ziro call the cops. It's on the way."
???
The chief could only curse the fact that he had ears. This kind of gods-and-monsters conflict was the last thing he wanted to get involved in.
"Don't be mad, Master," Max said, patting Aayla's shoulder. "We've got time."
What Max didn't realize was that from this moment on, Ziro the Hutt—and Black Sun along with him—had veered onto a path completely different from the original timeline.
That night, Max didn't take it out on the officers or the chief who'd cuffed him. But he was curious whether their superiors would give them trouble later. Tomorrow morning, Max planned to file a formal complaint and protest with the Coruscant Police.
Galactic Standard Date 4/11/15, early morning. Republic Executive Building 500, Max's luxury suite.
"Sir… please let Lisa dance for you. Just one."
"Lisa, put your clothes on."4
"Do you… look down on me, sir?"
"Lisa. You studied dance, didn't you?"
"Mm."
"Then get dressed, and dance the piece you're best at—for me."1
"Mm!"
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🛡️🔥🌌 STAR WARS: THE RISE OF MANDALORE 🌌🔥🛡️
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🚨 FOR MANDALORE! 🚨
The clans are stirring.
The armor remembers.
And Mandalore will rise again.
Star Wars: The Rise of Mandalore has 100+ chapters ahead available right now on Patreon! ⚔️🔥
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⚔️ Mandalorian warriors🔥 Clan warfare🚀 Galactic conflict🌌 Star Wars worldbuilding👑 Power & leadership💥 Massive battles🛡️ The resurgence of Mandalore
The galaxy has seen Mandalore shattered before.
But broken does not mean defeated.
🔥 A people forged in war can rise from the ashes.
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This is the way.
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