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 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.

Azha stood outside of Club Vertica, his armor and vest fitting in with the seemingly higher class nature of the establishment. Next to him stood a large figure in black armor, with montrals sticking out of the helmet. Compared to the figure, Azha was small, and seemed almost fragile. Despite this the two seemed almost in place on the smugglers moon.

“I still don’t understand why we are here Mos,” the figure, Keiji, said with a deep voice. “Yuki just told me to come with you and make sure you got out alive.”

“That is simple,” the detective replied. “As your boss probably pointed out, I am about to do something that will likely get me killed, and I will actually need backup this time.”

“Before I go in with you I want details,” the Mandalorian replied, wondering what restrictions would be placed on him. After all the detective did tend to be picky when it came to breaking any laws.

“Dammit man,” Mos replied with a smirk, reaching to open the door. “We are on one of the biggest missing persons case I have ever been on. Three years running. I’m going into a gambling den on Nar Shaddaa, with my badge no less, asking questions. That will bring trouble. We are doing this by the book, and the tip I got about this place seemed safe enough.”

“Any parameters?” Keiji said as the door opened. The air was suddenly filled with loud pulsing music.

“Just warn me when there is trouble, and I mean verbally, not with a severed hand,” Mos replied, remembering the first time he had ever met the Togruta. Try not to think of that Mos, you don’t want a fight.

The pair entered the club, both surveying the room. Several droids were currently dealing hands to several players at once, each seeming to be drawn more towards the pazaak tables on this night. Interesting, Mos thought to himself upon seeing that. The sabacc pot must be low, either that or these are gamblers who actually know when to not get in over their heads.

“Stay by the door Keiji,” Mos said quietly. “Don’t want to be intimidating the people here, let me and my… how did you put it last time, dancer’s build, handle this one.”

The Professional nodded, looking at the security of the night. “Six men, one woman Mos,” he said taking measure of the uniforms he noticed. “Probably more beyond sight.”

“Checking for thieves no doubt,” the Ranger replied without a second's thought. “I think the Aqualish one in the right corner gave you a look. I’ll be back with the information.”

Mos approached the majordomo of the den, a pale blue twi’lek man in a black suit. “Hello sir, I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions?”

“Play or leave,” the majordomo replied.

Mos showed him his badge. “You going to want to change your answer?”

“Alright detective,” the majordomo replied, “let's make this quick, players leave when one of your kind arrives.”

“Have you seen this girl recently?” the Mirialan asked with a hint of anger in his voice. He pulled up a holo of a young red and black Twi’lek girl.

“Actually yes,” the Majordomo replied. “That schutta was here four weeks ago, was put into the sabacc pot. She was won within a day, by one of the best hands of sabacc this club has ever--”

“Who won her?!” Mos said aggressively.

“Now detective, I can’t just go and give that information away,” the majordomo said with a sly smile. “They won’t come back if we did.”

The detective snapped, and called on the Force, as he raised his arm. The Twi’lek flew towards Mos, who grabbed the man by his throat. Unconsciously, the Mirialan drew his blaster, putting it to the majordomo’s throat. “Tell me!”

“Mos,” came a call from across the room.

“I will be there in a second Keiji!” Mos yelled. “Once this thick skulled idiot tells me where she is!”

“Mos!” Keiji called again, with the sound of a drawn blade.

“Not now!” Mos yelled back. Then shifting his focus back on the majordomo, giving a glare that spoke of hatred. “Tell me who won her!”

There was a cry of pain, coming from a feminine voice. Mos released the majordomo, and turned to see a human woman in a security uniform laying on the ground, a small oozing slash cut across her back. His anger faded as he saw that, and he noticed that the remaining security guards had their blasters pointed at him. He also noted Keiji was now not that far away. Dammit Mos! You should have listened to Keiji when he called.

Keiji looked at the other security members who all had guns trained on his friend. Normally the Mandalorian would have just rushed into the fray and cut them down, but this time he had to also think about his friend’s safety. He doubted that the Mirialan could take the large amount of blaster bolts that would be heading at him, even with his vest and armor.

The Togruta vaulted over the counter to the Majordomo’s side and grabbed Mos by the scruff of his collar, pulled him over, and dropped the sword next to him. The worst part is I warned him like he wanted me to, but he still didn’t listen to me, Keiji thought. He soon noticed the Twi’lek starting to get up and head towards an exit. Quickly and precisely, the Professional drew a knife from each forearm and launched them at the Majordomo. A scream of pain cried out from the Majordomo as both knives landed in the crevasse of each knee. He hit the ground with a thud. Fearful, the injured man started to drag himself away from the dark armored figure. This, in turn, caused a third knife to pierce his shoulder.

“Damn it Keiji, I need him to…” Azha started to say as he positioned himself behind the counter. This was going not even close to how the Mirialan had planned.

“He’ll live. The knives hit non vital areas, but still hurt and will cause restriction of movement as to prevent him from getting away. My first priority is keeping you alive, but I don’t want this to be all for nothing.” Keiji interrupted as he positioned himself near his companion. He heard the sounds of people getting out of chairs and rushing for the door. People are smart enough to see a fight and run from it, the smarter ones take a few credits while heading out the door, but all would alert the law of this place that something was up.

“Come out now!” one of the security force members shouted. The Mandalorian pressed a button on his wrist and waited for a moment. A slight beep showed him that there were now nine members waiting on the other side of the counter. Keiji peaked his montrals over the top of their cover. He now knew where each one was. Slowly the Togruta pulled out Night and Ebony, his twin slugthrowers. He flipped them upside down and placed his thumbs on the trigger.

“I’ll fire a spread of bullets and then jump out and seek cover elsewhere. You stay here, provide cover fire and keep an eye on the target.” Keiji whispered to Azha. The Ranger opened his mouth to object, but Keiji already initiated his plan. A hail of bullets erupted into the club. Only a few unlucky security officers were wounded, as they all dropped for cover.

Seizing the opportunity Keiji holstered his guns, grabbed his crimson blade, and launched himself over the countertop again into the fray.

Azha stayed behind the counter, calming himself. Dammit Mos, get a grip! His hands were shaking in rage,