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.

A cloud of smoke created a slight haze throughout the casino. Music from a live band filled the air, adding to the mix of cheers and curses of those who were winning big or losing everything they had. Revs leaned back to relax, resting his elbows against the table behind him. The small-statured Duros next to him cheered out as he won another hand of Pazaak. Maisom Domn was the Duros’ name. Revs had been shadowing the man as a bodyguard for weeks now, trying to protect him from any who would wish him harm. He wasn't exactly sure what the small alien knew that made him so valuable to Clan Arcona to keep him alive, but the aggravating little nerf certainly did not make his job any easier.

Since coming into the man's employment, the young Knight had warded off six Hutt thugs and managed to stop three separate ambushes from bounty hunters.

“Atyiru better be upping my pay,” the Miraluka mumbled under his breath. A woman's voice brought his attention back over to Maisom. The woman was shorter than him and wearing a loose fitting gown, dyed a light blue, that seemed slightly too big for her. Revs was used to seeing women trying to make moves on males who were winning big in the casinos, credit diggers were just to be expected here, but this woman seemed out of place. Her clothes seemed to be fine tailored, better made than anyone would find on Nar Shadda. The way she presented herself spoke of someone who had not grown up here on the moon, but who carried herself with pride. Even setting all that aside, Revs had never even noticed her approach and that was what unnerved him the most about her.

The Arconan sat quietly as he observed the woman at the edge of what would be considered his vision through the Force. She seemed to force out a laugh and cheered on the Duros as he won yet another hand of Pazaak. Her right hand rested lightly on Maisom’s back, but what was her other hand doing?

Sliding out from her sleeve, her left hand emerged holding a slightly curved knife. Instantly, Revs jumped to his feet and swung a hard left cross, catching the surprised woman on her left cheek. Trying to keep control of the situation, the Knight reached out to grab the Human’s wrist, but only managed to grab the sleeve of her gown. The sleeve pulled apart at the seam as she spun away from him, throwing a handful of dust in the Miraluka’s face as she came back around.

Revs coughed as he inhaled the fine powder. “What was that supposed to do? I’m already blind, that doesn't work.”

“No, but this does,” Alethia sneered as a blaster pistol appeared in her hand from inside of her gown. Revs dove to the side to avoid the blaster shot, tackling the man he was hired to protect to the ground in the process. “Get behind the table and stay down. I will handle her!” he ordered, ignoring the protest of both the Duros and the droid dealing the Pazaak cards. Two more blaster shots burned into the card table they were hiding behind. As the Arconan drew upon the Force, concentrating to form a telekinetic blast to throw at his opponent, he couldn't help but wonder where the casino’s security was.

As the table hurtled through the air towards her as if by magic, Alethia realized three fundamental truths at the exact same time. First, a hundred-kilogram casino table doesn't fly through the air by itself: there was a Force user trying to kill her. Second, whether by malice or incompetence, someone in Arcona had blown the mission. And last, she was going to give Atyiru absolute hell for this the next time the Lotus war council convened.

Maisom Domn had — or at least he was supposed to have — a datachip sewn into the hem of that tacky nerf leather jacket he insisted on wearing everywhere. The Council of Urr was very interested in the contents of said chip, but until the Shadow Lord finally lead her people into open revolt and purged the loyalists to the Iron Throne, they needed to exercise a certain level of discretion. Alethia had presented what she thought was a serviceable solution, albeit not a particularly elegant one. The Arconans would put Domn under guard, but let him roam about freely. The Odanites would hire a few cheap thugs to go after the Duros, so that the bodyguard could be seen publicly and violently defending his charge. Finally, Alethia could simply cut the datachip free during one of Domn's drink-sodden gaming binges and be halfway to Kiast before anyone was the wiser for it. That was the plan.

Getting crushed to death by an overzealous Miraluka was decidedly not a part of the plan.

Alethia dove to one side, tumbling forward into a roll and narrowly avoiding the table as it crashed to the floor, pinning an unfortunate Ortolan beneath it. Her feet back under her, the Human darted for cover, firing a few potshots into the ceiling and overhead lights as she did so to add to the chaos. The patrons were nearly stampeding for the exits now. Club Vertica's security, oriented more towards roughing up the occasional card shark than dealing with a genuinely lethal threat, wasn't faring much better.

"Droid!" Alethia hissed into the comlink at her wrist, rubbing her jaw with her other hand. "Assistance, now!"

"Of course, mistress," the mechanical voice droned in reply. "Will you be requiring lethal support? Shall I bring Master Sûl's lightsaber? Shall I bring the flamethrower?" If droids had salivary glands, the nameless KX unit would have been positively drooling over the prospect of consigning his mistress' enemies to the flames.

Alethia made a point to scramble behind the bar before replying. Somebody — she couldn't tell if it was security or a patron — had opened fire and someone else had triggered some sort of alarm system. "I don't care how you do it!" she snapped into the comlink as she tossed a smoke bomb over the bar, towards the casino floor. "Just get in here and keep the Jedi occupied." Would the smoke affect her adversary? She didn't know. Miraluka were some unsavory combination of alien and Force-user, but beyond that Archenksova had an insufficient understanding of their sensory and respiratory systems. She did know that the more chaos she introduced, the less control her adversary would have over the situation. That would have to do.

"Domn, get to the exit!" Revs barked over the snap-hiss of his lightsaber springing to life. Whoever this lady was, she was a lot more annoying than the first nine idiots he'd had to fend off. Atyiru better be upping my pay a lot, the Miraluka seethed, batting away a stray blaster bolt. The Force pulsed through his legs, a seductive burn like Corellian brandy running down his throat, and Revs hurled himself forward, sprinting towards the bar. A feminine head peeked over and unleashed a few more blast bolts, but the Miraluka swatted them away. Holding his blade high over his head, the Arconan made to leap over the barrier and bring swift death to his enemy — but the screeching of the Force at the back of his brain caused his step to falter, and he stumbled. His quick reflexes saved him, pulling him into a tight roll as a swath of fire roared overhead, right where he would have been had he jumped forward as planned.

Archenksova shrieked as the superheated bottles above her burst, sending shards of glass and a variety of blue liquors several meters in every direction. "Mistress!" the metallic voice of a KX droid beame out gleefully. "I'm helping!"