A gambler’s den of the Vertical City’s greatest bettors, Club Vertica is a casino reserved for the wealthiest of Nar Shaddaa. Cardshark droids are used exclusively to deal hands to those willing to risk their credits at the sabacc tables. Cheating is rendered near impossible under the surveillance of the droid's six photoreceptors. That, of course, does not stop the downtrodden from accusing others of being a fraud, which can often happen before someone receives a blaster bolt between the eyes. The few that have been able to use skiffers undetected are counted as some of the best swindlers in the Galaxy.

Cerulean lights illuminate the tables, making concealment during a game difficult. Seated around most of the oval tables are a mix of gamblers from different species, succumbing to their addiction for the ultimate prize—the sabacc pot. Credits are tossed onto the tables forming mountains that draw in fierce competitors with deeper pockets and faster wit than the usual patrons.

Behind the games of sabacc, drinks are being served from the alcove of a small bar. Most of these are a shade of blue in color, expertly mixed to dull the senses of all but the hardiest individuals. Onstage, a local band sets the mood of the venue with an upbeat number that deafens out most conversations. The stakes are always high at Club Vertica.

The Corellian stepped inside the gambling den known as Club Vertica, glad to be away from the glaring lights of the Smuggler’s Moon. Reiden was no stranger to such establishments. The scent of smoke drifting throughout the space from various patrons wafted into his nostrils. It almost seemed more like a welcoming to him, rather than something that would cause him to scrunch his nose in disgust. It was not his vice, but it was a familiar scent that brought back memories from his past and the time he had spent here on Nar Shaddaa, back before he had joined the Brotherhood.

He caught sight of a bar that was set back into an alcove and crossed the room towards it. House Imperium, where Reiden made his home within Scholae Palatinae, had recently gained some new members. Considering it his due diligence, Reiden had decided to gather some information on the new arrivals — in particular, an Elder by the name of Aeternus. Upon informing his superiors of his intentions, his Proconsul, Braecen, had instructed him to meet with one of his contacts, and that the meeting place was to be this club. Although Reiden did not know who he was to be meeting, he figured that Braecen wouldn’t send him into a situation for which he was unprepared. Still, Reiden found himself reaching within his cloak to his holster, his fingertips brushing against the butt of his blaster for reassurance. He leaned against the bar and took in his surroundings, not sure who or what to expect, especially in regards to the person he was supposed to meet.

Not noticing anything that seemed out of the ordinary for such an establishment, Reiden ordered himself some rum. He set some credits down for the bartender, who took them with a grunt of gratitude before returning to polishing a glass and conversing with the few other patrons that the small bar could accommodate with its limited space. Just as Reiden lifted the glass from the bar, a nagging sensation filled the back of his mind. He paused and glanced around, his gaze settling on the shadows to his right, where the wall was. A soft chuckle emanated from the area as the darkness slowly dissolved, revealing a figure that had been hidden from view and the senses of most people. To Reiden’s surprise, it was a familiar face that he found standing before him now.

“Ras,” Reiden began, “I wasn’t expecting to run into you, especially not now.”

The dark haired woman offered a smile before taking the glass from his hands and draining its contents. “Aye, Braecen sent me. He said that you were looking for some information on a certain recent transfer into the Clan.”

He shook his head with a laugh, ordering himself another drink and quickly drinking it before his comrade decided to relieve him of it. “Yeah, that’s right. This Aeternus guy, what do you know about him?”

Rasilvenaira pursed her lips at the query and shook her head. Then she leaned in closer to Reiden and whispered, “You Imperium people really aren't good at the secretive stuff are you?” Her tone was amused and almost teasing. She leaned back again with a smile flitting across her lips, then her dark eyes lifted to catch the bartender's attention. She gave him a small nod and the man brought over a bottle of rum and another glass. She dropped some credits on the bar, and picked up the glass and bottle in one hand, and put her other hand on Reiden's arm. “Let's go somewhere a little quieter, hm?”

The Warlord barely waited for Reiden to nod before leading the way along the wall to a small, semi private room. She released his arm and moved to settle herself at the table. In another chair beside her was the slumped form of a blue skinned Twi'lek. Rasilvenaira reached over to the form and pulled a dagger from the body, and nonchalantly wiped the blood from the blade on the Twi'lek's sleeve before sheathing the dagger at her belt.

Her dark eyes caught the motion as Reiden stiffened and started to take half a step back, his eyes widening as he stared at the body.

“Ras? What's going on?”

The Sith motioned to the chair across from her, “Sit down, Reiden. You act like you've never seen a body before. That was your contact from Braecen. I'm here for other reasons.”

Reiden hesitated, a frown appearing on his face. The glass of rum he'd been carrying slipped from his grasp and then his hand moved to the blaster at his side. “I think I'll stay standing if that's alright. What are you talking about?” His gaze darted from the dead Twi'lek to the Warlord in front of him.

Rasilvenaira scowled, pouring herself a glass of rum from the bottle she'd brought with them. “Reiden, stop wasting perfectly good rum, or do you really want to give me more reasons to kill you?”

The wickedly lethal form of the Arashi-Kumori appeared on the table beneath her left hand as the Sith took a casual sip of her rum from the glass in her right hand. “Sit down before I forget that I was going to give you a chance to be reasonable about this.” Her tone had gone cold enough to freeze fire.

Reiden's jaws tightened and he moved to drop into the chair across from her, “Ras? I thought we were friends, why are you doing this?”

She shrugged, draining the glass of rum and pouring another. “I'm an assassin, Reiden. I don't have friends. And you are being far too inquisitive for your own health. If you keep pursuing your little investigation it is going to begin to interfere with my plans, and I can't allow that.”

Reiden swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly. “Braecen knows I came here...” he started.

The Warlord sipped her rum, and arched one brow at him. “This is Nar Shaddaa.” She shrugged. “Accidents happen all the time. Even Braecen knows that.” The fingers of her left hand idly caressed the black leather grip at the center of the double bladed dagger on the table.

Reiden studied Ras for a moment before nodding. “Yes, I suppose you’re right about that. You know, I actually lived here on Nar Shaddaa for a time, years ago. I saw my fair share of…accidents happen.” He got up and strode over to the bar in a casual gait to get a new glass before returning to the table and sat down, pouring a drink from the bottle Ras had procured. He took a slow pull of the amber colored liquid.

Ras eyed him, almost like a Loth-cat watching its prey. “So I trust you won’t make a scene, about this,” she said, waving vaguely at the prone form of the Twi’lek’s corpse.

The Corellian gave her a small smile, “Of course. I’ve left my share of bodies on this moon anyway, and I’d rather not add to that count — at least not at the moment. So, if you’re not here to meet with me, what are you doing here?”

The woman across from him laughed, “Oh, Reiden, do you really expect me to answer that question?”

“No, I suppose not. But you can’t blame a guy for trying.” He took another drink from his glass. “I won’t get in your way, though, whatever your job here may be.”

“Mmhm, that’s good,” Ras began as she looked at him over the rim of her glass. “Because I’d hate to have to kill you after we’ve known each other for so long.”

Reiden simply nodded in agreement. It was then that he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and the little hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Something wasn’t right. He gave a cautious glance to the side, moving only his eyes. A scowling green-skinned Twi’lek and an equally angry-looking Weequay were making their way over to where he and Ras were seated.

The Corellian cast his glance back to Ras, who inclined her head a fraction of an inch in acknowledgement. She had noticed them as well. The encroaching pair made stopped beside their table. He gave Ras a small nod before turning to face them, a polite smile turning up the corners of his lips.

“Is there something I can help you boys with? As you can see, my friend and I are in the middle of something,” Reiden said.

“Yeah, you better believe there is,” the Weequay started. “See that guy next to you?”

Reiden tilted his head to the side slightly and glanced over with his eyes. “Yes. It’s sad, but I’m afraid he was already like this when we arrived.” Out of sight and under the cover of the table, he slowly moved his hand to his side, where his weapons lay in wait, just in case.

“That’s our friend who’s lying there, dead,” the Twi’lek added. “And we hear that you might have something to do with it.” Reiden smiled. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I can assure you it has nothing to do with us.”

“Cut the act!” the Twi’lek spat. “We know it was one of you two, if not both.”

Ras sipped at her rum, an amused smile on her face before her eyes turned cold. “I think it would be best if you and your little friend here moved on. Now.”

“Yeah, right. Like we’re just going to forget about our dead friend and the fact that you two just happen to be sitting here,” the Weequay shot back at her. He then turned his head and whistled. A trio of humans got up from their seats and began to make their way across the club.

“Guys, please. You really should listen to my friend,” Reiden said. “Leave, now, while you’re still able.”

The Twi’lek slammed his hand down on the table. “I don’t think so! You’re going to tell us what we want to know. Our other friends can help convince if needed once they get over here.”

Reiden sat back in his seat and cast a glance across the smoke-filled club, seeing that the pair’s three friends were indeed still getting closer. Not wanting to waste time reasoning when such a tactic clearly wouldn’t work, he instead sprang into action. With one smooth, practiced motion, he grasped the hilt of his knife and drew it from its sheath and brought it above the table, then planted it deep in the Twi’lek’s splayed hand. The alien threw his head back in a howl of pain and rage.

Taking advantage of the momentary confusion, Reiden quickly released his grip on the hilt of the knife, drew his blaster, and squeezed the trigger. A yellow bolt erupted from the blaster pistol’s muzzle and seared into the Twi’lek’s chest, smoke wafting from both the fresh wound and the end of the blaster. The Twi’lek’s form grew limp and crumpled to the floor. Screams rang out throughout the club at the sound of blasterfire, and patrons got up, scrambling for the exit as fast as their feet could carry them. Others that were located farther from the exit decided to take what cover they could find, or else simply ducked down.

Reiden looked to the Weequay as he pulled his knife from the dead Twi’lek’s hand, expecting he would be the next target. However, Ras had already begun her own offensive. The woman took her Arashi-Kumori from the table’s surface and drew it in a savage slice across the Weequay’s neck. He tried to scream, but it only came out as a muted gurgle. He clasped a hand to the wound and stumbled back, tripping over an empty chair and falling to the floor.

“I see your skills are as sharp as ever,” Reiden noted.

“Of course they are. I can’t afford to let my targets slip away, now can I?” Ras offered.

Reiden stole another glance at the now deceased pair’s friends. The three humans had managed to push through the throng of patrons trying to escape, and were now within view of the table where Reiden and Ras had been sitting. They stopped in their tracks when they saw the carnage on display. Their faces filled with uncertainty.

“Well, should we make our exit now?” Reiden questioned. “No sense sticking around if we can’t accomplish our objective.”

“Aye, that sounds like a fair point, Reiden,” Ras said in agreement.

Having carefully scouted the area beforehand, Reiden knew that there back door to the establishment, reserved for receiving shipments of goods and the transport of money to and from the club. Reiden spun on his heel and led Rasilvenaira out into the brisk night air that awaited them. He may not have been able to accomplish his objective, but he knew that if Ras had killed Braecen’s contact, there must have been a good reason for it. He would inform his superiors of the development and make another attempt at garnering information about the recent transfers to his clan and house some other time.

Reiden bristled, his body going stiff as he recognized the not so subtle threat in the Warlord's words. “You're supposed to protect the Clan, not go around killing innocent people.”

Rasilvenaira emptied her glass of rum and then arched a brow at him. “As long as you've been around Sith, are you really still that naive? No one is innocent, Reiden. Ever.” Her hand tightened on the grip of her weapon, “As for protecting the Clan? I am. But certain people need to be out of the way, and you're little investigation is going to interfere in those plans.”

The Battlemaster stood and drew his blaster, leveling it at her, “I can't let you do this, Ras.”

Rasilvenaira glanced at his blaster, then back up to meet his gaze. “You do realize that pointing your blaster at me means I'm going to have to end you, right?”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

As Reiden fired off his first shot, Rasilvenaira dove to the side out of her seat and rolled to come up in a low crouch. She shifted the double bladed dagger to her right hand and her eyes turned obsidian black as she glared at him.

Beyond the small room they were in, shouts and cries rang out as people in the rest of the club realized there was trouble. Chaos erupted as people began rushing to exits and security moved toward the two Sith. However, they seemed content to simply keep a relatively safe perimeter around the pair and make sure no one else got in harm’s way instead of making any attempt to stop the fight.

Reiden fired another two shots at Rasilvenaira. The Warlord narrowly managed to dodge one, but hissed sharply as the second grazed her left side as she tried to avoid it. She snarled as she lashed out with the Force to rip the blaster from his grasp and toss it across the room.

Rasilvenaira spared a quick glance at her side and decided that even though it really hurt, the damage wasn't critical. “I really, really hate blasters,” she growled.

Reiden muttered a curse and extended the blade from the armored gauntlet on his right arm. He twisted sideways just in time to parry the leading blade of Rasilvenaira's Arash-Kumori as she aimed for his midsection. The Battlemaster sought to push his opponent back as his gaze swept the room and he spotted his blaster. He tried to dive toward it, but just as his fingers closed on the grip the world around him went totally black.

He retracted the blade on his gauntlet and readied his blaster as he stood up. He turned slowly, seeking any hint or trace of the Warlord in the darkness. Too late was the faint sound as Rasilvenaira stepped up behind him. He didn't even have time to turn before the searing, lethal pain of the Sith's stiletto blade piercing between his left ribs and no doubt the heart they attempted to shelter.

“You should have just stayed home, Reiden.” Her voice was low, barely more than an icy whisper as the darkness around them faded again.

He sank to his knees as his gaze met hers. She wiped the blood from her blade on his shirt and turned away from him. “Nothing personal, you were just in the way.”

As she stepped from the small lounge, Rasilvenaira gave a bored shrug to the lead security guard. “Send the bill for the damage to Elincia Rei, I'm sure she'll be happy to cover it.”

They stared in shock as the Sith strode past them and headed out of the club.