The air is crisp on this cool Corellian night outside Club Fallen. A wave of sound washes over everything, pounding into the heads of everyone even from outside the venue. Members of a dozen different species loiter around outside enjoying themselves as they wait—many in vain—to gain entry into the club. From high above, floodlights aim down illuminating the darkness in large patches, though there are still plenty of shadows where people hide more... illicit types of fun. Bouncers stand on either side of the main entrance and security walks around at scheduled intervals. Behind the club, there's a back entrance used for loading and offloading equipment.

The first floor is dominated by a large, rectangular dance hall. The sound inside is overwhelming, as are the myriad lights of vibrant hues that flash quickly and sporadically with the beat. An undulating mass of lifeforms crash and gyrate against one another, screaming on the floor in some semblance of the word "dance". On either side of the mashing bodies are raised platforms, with a slightly calmer atmosphere. The people there are a little more subdued, but not by much. At the far end of the hall is a massive, raised stage with room for a full band, though currently occupied by a lone DJ and his gear. More bouncers line the hall—hired local muscle—ready to deal with any troublemakers.

Stairs in the back lead to the second floor. Above the dancing masses are a series of crisscrossing walkways stretching from one end of the venue to the other: maintenance access for the various lights and speakers that dangle haphazardly above the crowd. Directly above the stage is a mezzanine with a large, soundproof booth, inside of which is the beating heart of the club. All the electronics flow through this booth, controlling every aspect of the sound, lights, and security equipment...

Between the crush of bodies and all the noise, you may find yourself almost overwhelmed. All you know is that your enemy is here, somewhere, in Fallen mixed into the crowd. Are they alone? Are they lying in wait? It's unclear. What is, though, is that the club is full of sentients. Potential enemies? Possibly. Potential witnesses? Definitely. What are you prepared to do to eliminate your target? Can you slay them without raising the alarm? Or will you instigate a massacre to ensure no one is left standing?

The decision is yours... if your enemy doesn't make that choice for you.

Hevan had arrived on Corellia 2 days prior, sent by his clan to 'dispose' of a dangerous individual. His intel had been limited, as only a low level guard had been bought off, but he knew his target and where they would be that night. There was some meeting happening between the target and a buyer, and that he was to stop it. Now, to Hevan, stopping something and shooting someone coincide remarkably often. The meeting should be on the roof, but there would undoubtly be guards surrounding any entrance - and, if the target was good at his job, guards at any vantage point that overlooks the meeting area.

Hevan arrived at the club 3 hours before the meeting was due to happen, and began checking vantage points. Climbing a ladder on a tower that housed one of the searchlights, he encountered the first piece of security. A small laser tripwire, likely an alarm or explosive, was attached about halfway up the ladder. It was small, hardly noticeable, but it left a slight green glimmer in the air. Hevan climbed back down, but instead of looking for a new tower, he grabbed the safety cage that surrounded the ladder. He clambered up the cage on the outside, much more exposed than he would normally prefer, but this was the best option for him.

Reaching the top, he silently climbed through railing and, finally, had his feet on solid ground again. There was a guard up at the top, sitting and watching the club with electrobinoculars. Hevan stalked nearer, completely silent, unsheathed his duskblade and prepared to strike. As he was about to, a crackle came from the man's commlink.

"Tower three checking in. All clear here." The guard responded to the indecipherable crackle.

Hevan waited for him to turn off the commlink, then struck. He stuck the blade into the man's throat and held his mouth to stop the shout. The guard struggled for less than a second, then went limp. Hevan pulled the corpse from beside the spotlight, making sure it would not fall, and wiped his blade on his sleeve. Now he was alone and could set up his nest. He pulled out his rifle and tripod, setting it up just behind the searchlight. Anyone looking for him would only see the light, and he could be shrouded in the darkness. He searched the man's body, pulling the commlink and a few credits from the man's pockets.

Now, Hevan waited. While he did so, he surveyed the club with his own electrobinoculars, noting guard positions, snipers and exfil routes. Eventually, he got bored and began to snack on some miscellaneous foods pilfered off the guards now cold corpse. His legs hung off the edge - anyone looking wouldn't be able to tell it wasn't him - as he ate. Crumbs fell about 200 meters to the ground as Hevan practically tore the food to shreds. He was never neat, even at the tables of lords and ladies and other rich folk. He grabbed his flask, thankful for his foresight of refilling it before coming, and felt the alcohol rush down his throat, warming it.

He finished, leaving about half of the drink left, nearly dropping the flask from the tower as he put it down. He thanked his reflexes for catching it - if it had fallen, it would have been a disaster. Another hour passed, Hevan practically banging his head on the railing out of boredom. He could be patient when needed, but this was something unique. There was nothing to entertain him save for making up stories about people trying to get in, watching kids attempt to sneak in and chuckling at people getting thrown out. It entertained him for a bit, but it soon became boring and tiring. Finally, the comm crackled back into life, a voice asking for a check in.

"Tower three, checking in."

Another hour and a half passed. Nothing. At least in cold areas there was the bite of the wind, at least in deserts he could be at home, but here, standing hundreds of meters above the ground, there was nothing to do aside from listen to the wind. Another hour passed with Hevan wasting time by checking his rifles sights again and again. They were late. He began to worry intel had been faulty, but as he was about to pack up, the door on the roof opened. Guards walked out, holding crates, and spread out in a wide circle. Then, the target walked out, followed by more guards. Then, several stormtroopers walked out.

Hevan cocked an eyebrow, zooming in with his sight and standing ready. He knew who the buyer was, just not the individual buying yet. Scholae Palatinae were on Corrillia. A small person walked out, surrounded by guards, wrapped in a deep cloak, before pulling the hood down. It was a woman, brown hair in a bun. Hevan, as typical of him and his disinterest in anything that doesn't immediately affect him, had no clue who she was, but knew she was likely important. Killing her could lead to all out war between the clans, something that, despite the smile the idea brought to Hevan's face, was probably not the best idea. If she attacked him, he would fight back, but he thought it would be best it he did not kill a high ranking member for a rival clan.

He watched through his sight at the deal, the sight focused on the target's skull. They seemed to be shaking hands, and Hevan's curiosity got the better of him. He watched as guns were pulled from crates and displayed to the imperials, and Hevan knew now was the time. He knew that once this deal was secured, a trade agreement might be set up and that would frankly be bad. He took the shot.

The rifle cracked and the man's skull exploded. He reloaded and shot the sniper on a opposite tower, but by the time he had looked back, blasters were firing and the searchlight was out. He saw men running towards the tower and Hevan knew he was in trouble. Probably could had figured some exit strategy, but Hevan was never really a man famous for his foresight. He grabbed a winch, assuming and hoping the cable would be long enough, and set it to unwind. He fell faster than he thought he would, but slower than if he had jumped without anything.

He landed. Hard. Hevan rolled as he did so, but still was winded and stunned, and he tried to get up but collapsed. Cursing, he resolved to wait until he could actually walk before trying to exfiltrate, but soon heard the sound of feet running and men shouting. A guard burst through the bushes at the edge of the club perimeter and spotted Hevan. Hevan played dead but the man moved to inspect his now less painful body. The guard went to check a pulse, but was stopped by a stiletto piercing their kidney. Within 5 minuets the man would be dead of blood loss. Hevan sped the process up by slashing the guards throat with his duskblade.

Covered in more blood than he usually preferred, Hevan shakily stood up in time to see several stormtroopers aiming blasters at him.

"Ah. Suboptimal"

Rasilvenaira muttered a curse as she entered the packed club. The stench of smoke and sweat hung thickly in the air. The dizzying light display and pounding music already had her head throbbing. She hated places like this, and cursed her contact again for picking this as the location for their ‘business’ meeting.

Even with her escort of guards and troopers the press of bodies around them had her skin crawling. Her hands didn’t leave her lightsaber hilts until they were on the rooftop in the relatively fresher air. She sighed heavily, rolling her shoulders to relieve some of the tension that had settled there. At least her contact showed up, now if the deal went well, the evening would be worth the headache.

Of course, things couldn’t possibly go as planned. The sudden sound of a rifle shot echoing through the air had everyone quickly scrambling. The Sith let out a creative curse as her lightsabers sprang to life with an angry crackling hiss. She realized that she’d been too focused on ensuring the man didn’t cheat her and her Clan in the deal that she’d missed the flicker of warning in the Force. Now it was too late and the man was dead. So much for an easy business deal.

The shooter had been spotted and her people were chasing him down. She made sure that at least this shipment of weapons would get securely to the ship, and then turned to head back downstairs.

She stepped out between the troopers that had their weapons trained on the shooter. Her dark eyes studied the man. She pointed one of her silver blades at him.

“Don’t shoot him, yet. I want to see if he’s as clever without his rifle.”

She silently beckoned the man forward. Despite the trouble he had caused her, she would give him a chance to fight for his life. Though she did not expect much from him, she was just angry enough to enjoy some sport.

Troopers, guards, and onlookers quickly formed a circle around the two of them. Hevan gripped the hilt of his duskblade, wary of the twin silver sabers wielded by the Sith. Meeting her gaze, he swallowed hard but gathered his bravado.

“Hardly a fair fight with you having those sabers of yours. Can you fight without them?”

Rasilvenaira only smirked and began to circle to his left. Nonchalantly, she deactivated her sabers and clipped them back to her belt. Then she drew her own pair of duskblades with a light flourish. She hardly needed lightsabers to deal with the likes of this man. She would enjoy herself with this fight.

Hevan charged forward, looking to use his advantage of height and weight to bear against the Sith. He had to fight his best fight, no way out except through this woman and he was determined to get out alive, somehow. He struck for Rasilvenaira’s shoulder, but met the edge of her left hand blade instead as her right hand slashed out with her other blade aiming for his midsection. His reach saved him, only receiving a light cut instead of the deeper cut the Sith had intended.

He pushed back against her blocking blade and she brought the other duskblade up to cross lock them as she fought for leverage against his greater height. Suddenly, she sidestepped, pulling her blades away and as Hevan stumbled forward at the loss of resistance, Rasilvenaira delivered a telekinetic strike to his back that sent him sprawling forward to the ground.

The Sith focused and drew on the Force pulsing around them and the world went unnaturally dark. Hevan could no longer even see his own hands in front of his face, and he had the uncomfortable realization that he could not tell where Rasilvenaira was. He picked himself up and held his duskblade ready, straining his ears to hear what he couldn’t see.

Rasilvenaira stalked her prey like a hunting panther, she moved with silent and deadly grace. Malicious amusement glinted in her dark eyes as she chose her moment to strike. She went for a diagonal slash across his left shoulder as the darkness vanished as quickly as it had come.

"That will be the last."

The two circled each other for several seconds. Hevan weighed his blade in his hands, pushing emotion from his mind. He struck, subconsciously changing his strikes direction midway through and slashing up at the sith. She jumped back, allowing Hevan the space to do what he needed to do. Hevan swung, not at Rasilvenaira but one of the stormtroopers that surrounded them. His blade struck the neck, under the helmet, at the weakest point. The troopers was knocked to the ground, rich blood spilling from a stump where the head once was.

Hevan threw the helmet at the sith, ducking as a blaster shot sizzled above his head. He grabbed the blaster from the fallen trooper, shooting once, twice into the one that tried to shoot him. Rasilvenaira was on the attack again, troopers holding fire for fear of hitting her. Hevan slashed and hacked at her, pushing her back with a ferocity that she thought impossible for the drunk. She managed to push him back with the force, throwing him against a tree. She threw a dagger, the small blade tearing into Hevan's left shoulder, sending a spurt of blood from the mark. Hevan roared in fury, getting up and sprinting into the sith and slamming her into the ground. He rammed down with his duskblade, the blade inches from Rasilvenaira's face, who was holding his arm with all her strength. A trooper readied his blaster behind Hevan, but before they could fire, Hevan threw himself to the side as the shot rang out.

Had Rasilvenaira been any taller, she would have a hole in her forehead. Hevan ripped the knife from his shoulder, throwing it into the trooper's eye lens. Blood ran from the shattered hole, and the trooper dropped. Rasilvenaira took advantage of Hevan's distraction and used one of her duskblades to impale Hevan through the stomach.

Hevan gasped in pain, feeling the blade pass through and out the other side. He spat blood, then ripped the blade out even as the poison worked through his body. She stood up, standing above him with a smile. Hevan kicked her leg, sending her faceplanting into the ground, where he stole a lightsaber from her hip. While she staggered back up, standing further away this time, he pointed it at the hole in his abdomen.

He grunted, activating it. It burned a slightly larger hole through, but to Hevan, all that mattered was stemming the blood flow. The lightsaber instantly cauterized the wound, preventing any greater blood loss. Rasilvenaira gestured at him to one of the troopers and they raised their blaster.

Hevan bared his teeth and roared again, throwing the now deactivated hilt at the stormtrooper. It struck him in the head, stunning him and Hevan swung at the foot with his own blade, severing the troopers foot at the ankle and sending him sprawling to the ground. Hevan blocked the incoming attack from the sith, pushing her back with a kick and standing back up. He charged, taking advantage of her staggering, kneeing her in the stomach and knocking her head down with the pommel of his blade. How he was still fighting was a mystery, even to him, but he assumed, like always, it was a mixture of adrenaline and alcohol that kept him up. But, that was not important right now, the trooper pointing a gun at him was. With some suprise, Hevan turned and slashed the man's hand off, then a quick stab to the neck finished him, realising that that was the last trooper left. Aside from the one on the ground that was, but that was soon fixed.

Rasilvenaira had gotten up again. She looked around, anger practically radiating out of her. Hevan waited, swaying ever so slightly, but still on his feet. He took another swig of liquor from his flask, throwing it behind him with a carefree smile. He thanked the universe that her blade had only penetrated through a part that would not kill him, at least not yet. But, then again, bacta was always an option.

Rasilvenaira staggered a step as she caught her breath. Between the pain of bruised ribs and the throbbing headache pounding in her skull from the pommel strike she had taken, she was hurting badly. But more importantly, she was angry. Very, very angry. That anger seemed to strengthen her resolve and she was not going to back down at all from this lunatic she was facing.

Around her, the bodies of trusted troopers lay scattered where they’d fallen. Unnecessary deaths that weighed heavily on her heart and mind. She would mourn them later though, right now was the time to avenge their deaths. She would not hold back anymore and there would be no mercy for the man who’d killed them.

Still, she was cautious. He was clearly unhinged, and thus that made him much harder to predict. Rasilvenaira was not about to make another mistake that could give him any sort of advantage. She called her sabers to her hands, igniting them with a crisp snap-hiss.

The Sith knew she had to keep her anger in check, lest she lose control and get careless. She couldn’t afford to take any more risks, the man had to die and die quickly. However, part of her also wanted to make him suffer. A malicious smirk tugged at her lip as she focused on the energy around her and she blasted him with a vicious wave of Force lightning.

Hevan fell backwards, howling in pain as he rolled on the ground. Rasilvenaira blasted him again, then stalked toward him, sabers poised. Striking out, she aimed a slash that would have taken the man’s right arm off but he managed to roll over just in time. Instead, she only hit dirt beneath her saber and the damp ground sizzled at the heat of her blade. Quickly pulling back, she struck again as the man scrambled to his feet. He was slowing down though, the wound in his abdomen was beginning to take its toll. This time when the Sith Eternal attacked, his reflexes were just a second too slow and he screamed as the tip of her saber traced down the side of his left leg from knee to hip.

This man had disrupted her whole evening and slaughtered her troopers, never mind him trying to kill her. It was the loss of those under her command that always burned most fiercely in Rasilvenaira’s heart and she’d always sought to avoid unnecessary deaths wherever she could, and now this? Unacceptable. She had let this go on too long and now she planned to correct that mistake.

As Hevan tried to sit back up, the Sith lunged again, sinking both sabers into his shoulders. Then as she withdrew, she twisted one saber back around to separate his head from his body. As the scout’s body fell back to the ground, she let out a sigh of relief and satisfaction as she deactivated her sabers and placed them back on her hips. Then she turned her back on the carnage and headed back to the ship, quite ready to leave Club Fallen behind.