As per usual, I clung to the shadows, surveying the packed streets of Mos Espa from afar. Market Day had always been a cacophony of noise- unscrupulous vendors trying to flog their wares to unsuspecting tourists, locals bartering for a deal. I loved these days, but it wasn't the frequent burglaries that kept me entertained. It was the exotic fabrics: sumptuous silks and costly cashmeres in full, glorious technicolour, a feast for the eyes.

Today, my gaze was drawn to a scarlet cloak, the hem interwoven painstakingly with golden flowers. It took all my willpower to remain where I was in the umbra created by the leering buildings flanking my sides. Truth be told, the day was scorching, even by Tatooine standards, sweat beading on my forehead as I reluctantly pulled my eyes from the red cloth, shouldering the satchel I'd brought with me and stepping out into the crowded thoroughfare.

Almost instantaneously, I was apprehended by a Rodian, his aqua antennae twitching as he placed a spindly hand on my shoulder blades, guiding me towards his stall.

"Hello, little miss, you look like you're in need of a quality robe. Why don't you come over here and take a look. Half price for a darling like you."

I peered around his shoulder, my eyes widening momentarily as I realised that the scarlet cloak was hung up at the front of his stall. Against my better judgement, I nodded, letting my hands run through the lavish fabric. It reeked of opulence but I let myself peer at the tag. Just under 100 credits. I had that on me. I returned to the Rodian, tugging on his sleeve, letting myself become the innocent nine-year old I was supposed to be.

"Any that take your fancy?"

I nodded, pointing a finger in the general direction. "That one there. But... but I don't have the money." Tears pricked the corners of my eyes.

"What you got on you?"

"About 35 credits. I was supposed to go shopping for my mother, but she won't mind if I bring this back for her," I lied, drawing a circle in the sand with my foot.

"I'll go to 40, but that's as low as I can go."

"I'll take it," I beamed, watching as he folded the cloak up.

"Where are your folks?" he asked conversationally as I fished around in the suddenly cavernous bag for some credits. It hadn't seemed this big when I'd rammed the food for lunch in there earlier.

"At home. My father's probably taking care of some business."

"What's your father's name?"

"Jafan Stormlighter. You might know him." I picked at the layer of grime under my fingernails, knowing the effect that name would have on the merchant.

"That so? Give... give your father my best regards." Hastily, a bag was thrown in my direction and the Rodian moved off. I skipped off through the crowd, itching to drape the cloak over my shoulders.

Bag abandoned, I wrapped the luxurious fabric around myself, twirling in front of a grimy shop window. The cloak was considerably too large, swamping my already diminutive figure, but I figured I'd grow into it. The material swayed gently even once I'd stopped before dropping to the ground in a heap.

It was a luxury I had brought simply for the thrill of it, although I was sure some of my father's events would seem less dull in it. I slipped as quietly as I could through the shadows, tracing the familiar path through the back streets of the city to our usual meeting spot. Mercifully, the sun crept towards the horizon, courtesy of Rhutia, the sun god sentenced to eternally pulling the sun across the sky for daring to take water to the once arid plains of Naboo.

My mother had always been a devout follower of her religion, getting up to pray before the sun rose and once its caressing rays had been swallowed up by the desert. Her stories of solid golden palaces, bedecked in the most lavish fabrics and offering only the best food and drink never ceased to amaze my sister Sil and I as we lay under the open sky beside her.

A warming sensation flooded through me at the memories as I ran through the gates and up the winding gravel path, the house in front of me dominating the skyline.

To say my father was rich would be an understatement. A merchant's son, he had quickly developed a penchant for negotiations, climbing the ranks steadily until he was appointed as Senator shortly after my birth. He owned three homes, the largest of which I was approaching, a mansion set back from the public scrutiny of the street and filled his time throwing cocktail parties for the political elite and sponsoring podracers.

I had no interest in the former, but the latter had enthralled me in a vice-like grip. Having abandoned my new cloak in a maid's arms, I made a beeline for the outhouse where my father kept his racers. Most of them were kept in the best working order but a few had been written off by riders willing to take risks that never paid off.

"Adrienne? Is that you?"

My mother's voice floated through the marble foyer towards me, swiftly succeeded by her slender frame. Whilst Jafam opted for the finer things in life, his wife, Jada, preferred a tasteful form of simplicity, compounded today by the simple white dress and necklace she had chosen.

"Yes, mama," I replied, running to hug her. She smelt of the lilies and herbs she spent most mornings tending to, refusing to hire a gardener- "why should we hire someone when I am perfectly capable, my beloved?" was the stance she took.

Gently, I pushed against her stomach, wanting to escape and steal the podracer for tonight. Naturally, my father was unaware that his youngest daughter had a tendency to race the backstreets of the city after dark, winning nothing more than street credibility and kudos.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry?" Jada probed, releasing me and bending down to my height. "It is nearly dark and you know that the Tuskan Raiders will steal little children away if they're not back by bedtime."

"She knows, mother," came a new voice, belonging to my older sister Sil. She was only a few years older than me yet already the blanket of youth was already fading from her, replaced by defined cheekbones and an effortless elegance I tried to emulate and failed.

"Are you going with her, Sil?"

She looked to me for confirmation of my evening plans, which I gave her with an almost imperceptible nod. We had an unspoken agreement that she would cover for my otherwise inexplicable absences in return for my silence about a certain boy she would slip off to see.

"We were going to go visit the orphanage down the street; see if they need any new resources. It's been a while since their patrons last showed their faces."

A smile spread onto our mother's face and she nodded her head several times as if to emphasise her delight in our plan. "Yes, you must!"

The pair of us began to walk towards the back entrance when her calling our names stopped us in our tracks again.

"Yes, mama?" I asked, fiddling with my necklace beneath the folds of my clothes.

"Please do let me or your father know if they need anything. I'd hate for them to be struggling when it's so easy for us to help them."

"Of course," Sil answered, placing a hand on my back to speed us up. "Next time, try to be a little more discreet," she muttered, opening the garage door for me.

"Thank you." I turned to her, what I hoped was gratitude on my face.

Her face softened and a small smile appeared. "Go get em' kid."

Smiling once more, I hurried to the back of the building, to the marooned wrecks of written-off pods. The one whose handles I grabbed was the best of a bad bunch, although that wasn't saying much. The paint had been stripped back, leaving bare metal; the right engine was marginally concaved and the energy link between the two was so weak at times I thought it would give up.

Yet through all this, I had a fairly decent success rate. It was nothing to boast about, no wins under my belt but my name was known and the respect that came with that was something I relished in. Having flicked a few of the switches on the panel, the sound of my racer starting herself up rumbled through the garage. Carefully, I steered it between the pristine racers my father's sponsees rode in, careful not to leave the slightest mark for fear of discovery.

Gently, I cruised out of the back gate, taking the long way around to the meeting spot (a necessary precaution to avoid discovery), leaving the sound of a slamming garage door and footsteps on the gravel path behind.

I always found Mos Espa best in the evening, when the bustling streets emptied out, leaving only a few drunk couples leaning on each other, stumbling back to an apartment, keys fumbling in the lock. It seemed romantic at the time.

It was a short journey to tonight's meeting place, just south of the square I had visited earlier. Courtesy of mama's interruption, most of the other riders were already there, leaning against their cockpits. A few of the older ones were passing around some spice, which everyone else chose to ignore.

"About time you showed up," one of them yelled across to me. She was taller than the rest of us, a small group eagerly soaking up her every movement. They turned to face me, sneering as I stumbled slightly.

"I figured you could wait a few moments longer to be beaten," I replied, clutching the handles even tighter and rolling up to the start line.

"Let's get this osik over and done with."

She jumped into her racer, the cue for everyone to do the same as her clique retreated to the sidelines, one of them picking up the blaster to be fired upon starting.

When I first started racing, the swearing had scared me; it was language I had only ever heard from my parents in a heated argument before. But that initial jolt of morality had quickly left me and I'd picked up my fair share of cursing from these people.

The sound of several engines revving snapped me out of my daydream and I pushed the handles forwards, heart beating, adrenaline pumping.

There were a few moments where all I could hear was my breathing, in and out, before a single shot rang out. I released the brake, smiling as I was jolted forwards along with my pod.

The first few moments of any race were crucial to determining positioning, with racers using questionable tactics to be in the front pack as the race lengthened out. Almost immediately, a Twi'lek was trying to push me into the side of the slender street, guiding my engines dangerously close to the unforgiving wall. A smirk was plastered on his face as he veered suddenly left but I was prepared, pulling my steering in to slow my racer.

I steered around him, managing to earn myself a curse as I cut another racer up. A quick glance behind me revealed that his engines were crumpled inwards, smoke pluming from them as he angrily gesticulated towards me.

Having successfully navigated my first jagyc, I pushed onwards, weaving in and out of the larger pods with my older but smaller one. This wasn't a course I was familiar with and several times, I was forced to slow down to navigate a hairpin or obstacle.

Two laps passed in what felt like five seconds and I crossed the finishing line into the final one. I was well-positioned to place in this race, sticking tightly in the middle of the chasing pack, bearing down on the leader. She kept looking back and I realised it was the girl whose group had come to watch, the whites of her eyes showing in fear.

"Not so tough after all," I muttered to myself, smirking and pushing the engines even harder.

They begrudgingly obliged as I slipped up the ranks until I was leading the chase, putting distance between myself and the other racers and gaining on her.

She was so close I could see how her hands trembled on the steering, how she was prone to oversteering on the corners, forcing her into a sharp turn. Amateurs, I thought to myself disdainfully, creeping up on her left, my engines drawing level with her cockpit. I drew level with her, saluting her as I began to overtake, coming into the penultimate straight.

In response, she battered her engines into mine, causing me to lose precious seconds righting the pod. I pushed her back, watching as she ground her teeth, fighting against the machine to keep herself upright. It wobbled a few times and I saw her lead begin to slip away.

But by that point, we were rounding the final corner; I was on her inside and she had no choice but to stop or crash at high speed. I heard her engines power down, followed by a shriek and her fist slamming down on the cockpit in anger.

I learnt two valuable lessons that day, the first of which being to not allow your brain to spin a story that inevitably turned out as false.

What I had thought was a shriek of rage turned out to be one of fear as the entire pod mounted the wall, throwing my world into shadow. The succeeding slam was the sound of a hidden spike presenting itself, bearing its ugly tooth.

Desperately, I attempted to steer away from her but the width of the street denied me even that small victory. There was a shriek as the barb ripped through the right engine's soft exterior, dangerously close to the machinery which functioned like organs beneath.

With a final grating tear, the spike was retracted and the pod was flying over me, landing bumpily but expertly onto the dusty ground. That was the second and arguably more valuable lesson I learned that night.

Never take things at face value.

Despite showing all the signs of being a novice, this girl was obviously more practised than she claimed to be. I could barely fathom how she did it, yet there she was, crossing the line ahead of me much to the delight of the small crowd. She jumped out of the pod, absorbing the claps on her back and praise as if it were oxygen.

Meanwhile, I was left to sheepishly crawl over the line, my right engine ravaged by her dirty tactics. She had the good grace to shake my hand and call it a "good race" but the defeat still stung, especially after the euphoric promise of winning I had experienced mere seconds before.

Throughout my life, rules came and went. I promised myself that I would not get married, that I would not continue to consume a drug that was slowly tearing my insides out, that I would always be a rogue but I never discarded those two rules I learnt when I was nine.

With one exception.

A/N: It's back!! After like 5 million re-writes and a lot of time, I have finally republished! I haven't quite finished Act 1, so my updates will be sporadic but hopefully, you enjoyed this first new chapter. Thank you to all my friends (you know who you are) who have supported me through this journey. I love you all.