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.

Waiting was torture.

Stres'tron'garmis pulled at the collar of his uniform, sweating in the stuffy, formal military attire as he sat at the bar. Starched and pressed, with a glittering cape emblazoned with the mark of the Shadesworn, the Chiss was the perfect picture of an Arconan military officer. Slick and well-dressed, he drew every eye in the club, though that may have been for his stature and thick, bulging muscles more than anything.

With an exasperated sigh, Strong, son of Garmis, checked his chronometer just one more time. Then, he checked it again. He chewed his bottom lip. He sipped his drink. He tapped his foot. A knot of welling anxiety grew in his chest like a bubble, and he felt his muscles tense and tighten as every minute went by.

Where is Lucine? he thought, looking around the room for the telltale flash of scarlett hair that might announce her presence.

As always Club Vertica was packed with the wealthy and famous of Nar Shaddaa. Their glittering costumes and extravagant entourages shining under the cerulean lights as they laughed and schmoozed with eachother. A jizz band and a group of showgirls provided a sound-track to the raucous debauchery of the rich, hoping to draw a tip from the more generous patrons. Cardshark droids ran the gambling tables like clockwork, dealing cards and rolling die with the perfect mechanical precision that only a robot could achieve. Their watchful, bug-like eyes scanned the players for any sign of misconduct.

Yet amongst all the glitz and glamour not a single sign could be seen of the red-haired woman.

Strong sat back in his chair, dejected, but comforted himself that his probe droid was watching the front entrance. He'd know as soon as the Consul arrived. Why do I even care so much? he wondered, feeling a little silly, Nervous like a schoolboy! It's only a business meeting! I am a son of Garmis!

Yet despite his self-admonishment, he couldn't suppress the fluttering swarm of butterflies in his chest. Something about Lucine never failed to excite and intoxicate him, and since her ascension to Consul of Clan Arcona, he'd found himself working ever closer and more intimately with her. He tried his best to keep the relationship casual, but when he thought about her ruby red lips and emerald eyes, it became ever more difficult to keep his composure.

Strong again sipped his now empty drink, getting more water and ice than alcohol, and tried to clear his thoughts. A futile endeavour. His mind always wandered back to Lucine. He was sure the Consul didn't think anything serious about him. It was a fling. Something for her to toy with and relax. A harsh fact he'd known from the start, but it didn't soften the blow.

He jumped as his communicator chimed an alert, and he looked down expectantly, hoping to see a report from his droid. His heart clenched, though, as he saw it was a plain-text message from Lucine. He opened it quickly, flicking his eyes over it.

I am so sorry dear, but I fear I wont be able to make it tonight. Some special circumstances have arisen which require my personal attention. We will talk again, soon. For now, try to enjoy your night out! ~Lucine Vasano

Strong sighed, feeling simultaneous relief as his tension dissipated and bitter disappointment at knowing Lucine wouldn't be showing. He shut off his communicator and hung his head, trying to figure out where to go from here. He was still at Club Vertica, and with the clan expense card he could have an enjoyable night out. Yet, a part of him wanted to just head home. Perhaps he could even get in a late workout…

"Credit for your thoughts, kid?" An old, gruff voice snapped him out of his inner world, and he looked upward to see an old human man smiling at him. His face was rough, weathered, and scarred. His hair was grey, and he wore a ragged, grey cloak over black robes. His smile was kind and friendly, and though Strong was suspicious, it put him at ease.

"I beg your pardon sir! Do we know each other?" Strong asked, his voice just a bit too loud.

"Sorry to be interrupting, son, names Dax. Dax Ryder. Y'all looked like you needed a little help is all."

"I'm sorry, but you must be mistaken! I am just fine good sir."

The old man took a seat next to him and waved the bartender over for a few drinks. "Hardly son. Begging your pardon, but you been sipping an empty drink the last twenty minutes. Why don't I buy you a round boy, What's your name?"

"Stres'tron'garmis! Noble son of the House of Garmis!" Strong answered proudly, almost out of habit. "And I assure you, sir, your help is really quite unnecessary!"

Dax laughed, "It's a woman, innit?"

The Chiss was struck by how well the man could read him, and in a rare turn of events found himself struggling for words. He stumbled for a second, and the old man broke out into a wide grin.

"Aha!" Dax exclaimed, slapping his knee with a laugh. "I can pick out lady troubles half-way 'cross the sector boy, what's the issue?" The man punctuated his question with a sip of his new drink, slyly wiggling his eyebrows at Strong.

"It is not really an issue per say…"

"She stood you up, didn't she?" Dax asked with a knowing, sympathetic look.

"Well…" Strong sighed, "She had other business to attend to."

"No need to make excuses for her boy! That's her job, not yours. Speak the truth and don't sugar-coat it. She. Stood. You. Up. Yeah?"

"Well… Yes. That's true." Strong answered, a bit more quietly than usual. For some reason admitting it out loud stung a bit. A sharp pain arose right in his chest. He took a sip of his fresh drink, feeling the gentle burn of the alcohol ease the pain. The man across from him nodded sagely and gave him a pat on the back

"Don't let it get you down boy! Take it from an old coot like me. Women will do what they want to do, as is their right, you just gotta focus on doing what you can do.

"How do you mean?:

"You gotta go out and be your best self, you hear? Do what you want, be who you want to be, and the lady troubles will fall in line behind that. You gotta love yourself before someone else can love you. Take it from a man that's gone through this before."

Strong smiled. He liked the old man's enthusiasm, and having someone to talk to made his disappointment seem a little less terrible. "I suppose you're right! I am a son of Garmis! I won't let this slow me down!"

"That's the spirit boy! Getting stood up ain't the worst thing in your life, in fact…" The man's smile took a sudden, crooked turn, his face looking suddenly sinister.

"It's not even the worst thing that's gonna happen to you tonight"

Strong jumped as he heard the whine of a blaster charging right behind his head. The old man leapt into a flurry of motion, revealing the Mandalorian gauntlets on his arms from beneath his black robes as he stood and backed away. There was a sharp whine as the blasters on each of his wrist readied to fire.

"I wouldn't move a muscle if I was you, Stres'tron'garmis, less you wanna get vaporized." Strong stopped mid-motion, and kept perfectly still. Surrounded and surprised, he didn't fancy his chances if he did anything rash.

"What is the meaning of this!" Strong shouted, cursing himself for getting distracted. While the old man had been talking to him, it appeared that an old Imperial security droid had snuck around behind him for an ambush. He could see its tall, black metal frame out of the corner of his eye, an electro-staff tightly secured to it's back and a strange, alien blaster in its hands.

"Sorry boy, I really hate to rub salt in the wound like this, I really do." Dax sounded genuinely apologetic as he pulled a tracking fob from inside his robes, its blinker beeping rapidly. "But you really oughtta keep a better eye on your surroundings, specially when you got a price on your head. Seems somebody in the Directorate's really got it out for you"

"The Directorate? This is outrageous! I am no common criminal! I am a noble son of the house of Garmis! This is a mistake!"

The shouting was beginning to draw a crowd. Patrons stared nervously over at the altercation, some quietly moving away. Others, though, pulled out holo-cameras, and many began placing bets. Violence was not unusual at Club Vertica. Indeed, few nights were considered complete without it.

"Naw, ain't no mistake. I got just the man I'm looking for Mr. Garmis." With a flick of his wrist, Dax pulled a small black puck from his robe and set it on the bar. With a button press the holo-projector inside activated, revealing a perfect holo-image of Strong and the words;

WANTED: STRES'TRON'GARMIS - 10,000 DEAD - 20,000 ALIVE

Strong cursed as he read the bounty puck, his heart sinking.

"Now I don't know if the difference between ten and twenty grand means much to you, rich boy, but that's my baby girl’s tuition money. So let's keep this friendly. You lower your head, and my associate Dan over there will collar you right on up. We leave these fine folks to their night, and you get a free, luxury trip all the way back to the Directorate."

"...Why do I have to collar him?" The harsh metallic voice of the droid answered, a bit of a whine in its tone. Dax sighed.

"Cause this blueberry has got arms like pythons and legs thicker than tree trunks. He snaps your neck and I can repair it. Mine don't fix so easy, you hear?"

"Not very confidence inspiring…"

"Just do your daggone job, you scrap heap!" Dax growled back, before turning his attention back to Strong. "You gonna cooperate? Or are things gonna get a little less polite?"

"You are a scoundrel and a coward!"

"...I'll take that as a yes. Gimme back my blaster Dan, collar him!" Dax circled around away from the bar as he barked his order. His attention never left Strong as he walked up to the security droid. With a grumbled complaint, the droid traded the strange alien blaster for a black metal shock-collar, and advanced on the seated Chiss. Strong bowed his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. With a furious expression on his face, he dug around surreptitiously, hoping the pair of bounty hunters wouldn't notice. As the droid prepared to clamp the collar shut around his neck, he found what he was looking for and slipped it around his fingers.

With a shout his fist erupted from his pocket, brass knuckles gleaming, and collided with the security droids chin with a thunderous clang. The shock collar went flying out of its hands and it stumbled backwards, trying to regain its footing. Strong kept on it, rushing forward with punch after punch, not giving it a single second to recover. To his surprise the droid danced backwards, barely dodging his punches.

"Dang it, Dan! Get out the way!" Dax shouted as he trained his blaster on the brawling Chiss, tracking the fight and waiting for the perfect moment. With his droid so close, he didn't dare to take a shot.

"You shall never collar a son of Garmis!" Strong shouted as he continued his mad rush forward. The crowd of onlookers scrambled out of the way as their fight took them up a set of steps and in among the gambling tables.

Dan threw a sudden left hook, hoping to buy some distance with the attack, but Strong caught the metal fist in his hand and pulled the droid in close, trapping him in an arm-bar. The mechanical servos hissed and strained against Strong's sheer strength, eventually snapping with loud, popping cracks as they began to fail. Metal creaked and bent under the sheer might of the Chiss as the droid struggled to break free.

"Dax!" Dan shouted, his vocal emulator garbled and screeching, "Just shoot!"

"But…!"

"Shoot! Him!"

With a sharp whine, a wave of sonic energy erupted from Dax's blaster, sending cards, chips, and even a nearby table flying through the air. Strong felt his ears pop and bones rattle as the wave-front struck him, sending both him and the droid tumbling away from each other . The world spun all around the Chiss and a high pitched, ear-splitting whine was all that he could hear before he came crashing into a table.

And I believed her canceling was the low point of my evening, thought the Chiss as he plowed through a card table, scattering chips. Several gamblers were crawling away from the hulking figure and the destroyed table, though one enterprising Ughnaught was scrapping up every marker he could reach. Strong worked his jaw in an attempt to lessen the screaming in his ears, the ringing sound both annoying and throwing his equilibrium off as he tried to stand. He looked up at movement, first spotting the droid getting up with mechanical efficiency despite one arm hanging loosely from its shoulder. He growled and tried to get his balance, preparing to charge the droid anew when he noticed the Human side-stepping in his peripheral vision.

He means to circle behind me once more, allow the droid to maintain my attention.

Strong took several deep breaths, before letting out a long exhalation of air and standing straighter. His ears continued to ring, blotting out the sound of people shouting and screaming, making wagers or fleeing as their courage took them. The Chiss turned his head slightly, in time to see the old man lifting his sonic pistol once more. Still disoriented, the son of Garmis grabbed the nearest part of the broken table and turned, stumbling as he did so, and tried to use it as a shield against the coming blast. The concussive wave hit like a speeder truck, even with the debris as a guardian it tossed him back several feet, nearly into the droid.

The unit known as ‘Dan’ stepped up with surprising speed and belted a metal foot into the downed General, a swift kick to the man’s side. It raised its foot anew to try and stomp on his chest, only to be met with a firm grip. Dan’s systems whined as Strong pushed against the stomp, the man’s red eyes blazing up at the droid.

“Insolent machine,” growled the Chiss, reaching up to grasp the droid’s shin with his other hand, and twisting the bulk of his body to the side, using the momentum to toss the XX-series to the floor. Dan crashed to the carpet with a hollow clang, and began pushing up with their one good arm, only to find that Strong hadn’t released his grip on the unit’s leg. Strong got back to his feet, a look of grim determination and anger on his face as he looked towards Dax.

The Human was lifting his sonic blaster again, the gun whining as it prepared to fire off another blast at the big alien.

“I believe this belongs to you, Mister Dax!” shouted Garmis as he heaved the droid towards the bounty hunter.

Dax let out a curse and dove to the side, the light frame security droid sailing past him with an indignant cry. When the Human looked up he found the Chiss nearly on top of him, a large blue hand grabbing his wrist and hauling him to his feet.

”I do not care of your profession, good sir, and I do not enjoy being hunted,” growled Strong in his face, his grip tightening painfully. Dax grit his teeth and tried to hold on, but eventually his hand spasmed, the sonic gun dropping to the floor.

“Then don’t get such a nice price on your head, son,” he grunted in reply, punching the Chiss in the chest with his free hand. The blow stung, his knuckles protested hitting the meaty slab that made up the General’s torso. “The hell did your people feed you?”

”Vegetables, protein, and plenty of juice,” responded the Arconan, bringing his head down swiftly for a headbutt.

Dax felt his world spin at the impact, his hand against the Chiss’s chest still grasping the man’s formal jacket to stay upright. Through the haze of head trauma and the ringing in his ears, he had a thought. A twitch of his hand set off the repulsor in his vambrace, nearly pressed against Strong’s torso. The blast of anti-grav energy sent the big man hurling backward again, destroying another, now vacated, gambling table. The older man looked down with blinking, dazed eyes to find he was now holding a black coat.

“Wha…?” he managed to ask before Dan shoved him to the side, just in time to avoid getting bowled over by a thrown chair. The droid went down with another thud, its chest plating dented in and eyes flickering.

“Master Dax, I believe the target is upset,” spoke the droid, a few sparks coming from its neck joints.

“Maybe you oughta stay down for now, Dan, ya don’t look so good.”

“Really, Master? I thought I would try and wrestle him to the ground and collar him now,” stated the unit, his vocabulator dripping with condescension. The droid’s chassis seemed to strain in an effort to return to its feet, managing to get back to a sitting position before another thrown chair slammed into it. Dan’s eyes went dark as they hit the carpet.

”Now then, perhaps we can fight like MEN!” bellowed Strong as he charged across the casino floor at Dax. The now shirtless Chiss looked angry, his body bruised from being tossed around, and his muscles rippled under the lights and smoke of the club. He looked fully like three hundred kilos of pissed off.

“Frag that,” grumbled the older man, reaching to his belt. Producing a cylinder, he twisted it, activating a red light around its center and tossing it forward, before jumping on a nearby table. Grabbing the edge, he used his weight and inertia to pull it over to the ground and tucked his head down towards his chest.

The imploder went off with a loud bang and a brilliant flash.

“Twenty grand, Dax, twenty grand,” he grimly reminded himself.