You stand in a room, nearly dark but for the pulse of rhythmic flashes of bright colored lights. Besides your opponent and yourself, you note a large number of bystanders who are sure to take exception to the coming carnage. Then again, knowing this crowd, they could just as easily find entertainment in an old-fashioned brawl. Spanky's is, after all, one of the more fashionable drinking establishments of Karufr.

The patrons seem to be a mix between the scantily clad women hawking their charms and the well-dressed gentlemen eager to part with their hard-earned credits. The odors in the tavern assault your senses and threaten to muddle your reflexes. Among them, you recognize over a dozen various types of stimulants—both legal and illegal—and the heady scent of, what is quite possibly, the most varied collection of liquor this side of the Galaxy.

The tavern itself is fraught with tactical advantages and disadvantages. Designed in the familiar style of all amphitheaters, the floor is slightly slanted toward a central stage where a lithe, twi'lek female is currently dancing. Littered amongst the floor are drink tables, heavily laden with glassware and other potential missiles. Uncomfortable, heavy metal chairs surround each of the tables in a semi-circle, so that the occupant's view of the stage is never hindered. The only exit, aside from the doorway where you stand, is a vaulted staircase—guarded by two very well-dressed, and heavily muscled, gentlemen—leading into parts unknown.

Small bars bracket the tavern on either side, filled with a glittering rainbow of bottles. Whatever is about to go down, you realize it would go down better with a stiff drink.

For the life of him, Bentre couldn’t put a finger on what kept bringing him back to this place. The bars on Sepros left a lot to be desired, but they had not been that bad.Could it be the little thrill of sneaking onto a Taldyran planet undetected? I mean, there was that brawl with the Nautolan Jedi but that had not been particularly memorable. The Corellian shook his head, looking over the room and its occupants again. Then again, the drink selection here is pretty nice.

Between the locals gathered in half-circles around the tables, the terrible music, and the headache-inducing flashing of the lights, Stahoes found his thoughts drifting off to the ruins of the Massassi temples. Sure it is populated by the brutish tribals, but at least I could enjoy sounds of nature instead of this noise.

Releasing a slow breath through his nose, the Shadow began to walk slowly toward the bar. As he walked, Bentre made some mental notes.

The Gamorrean in the corner could be a minor issue. Still don’t like the lack of easy exits in here. This place is too damn crowded if something bad happened.

Every time that the Sith had come to Spanky’s, it had ended in some measure of trouble for him. He didn’t expect anything different here. Some things had changed since joining the Dark Brotherhood, but that one thing never seemed to. He felt like a magnet for trouble. Shaking his head, Stahoes turned his attention back to the bar. Almost immediately, his eyes lit up in recognition.

“Keira,” the Corellian spoke the name under his breath, with the barest hint of a growl. His contact with the Sadowan Quaestor had been remarkably limited, but the man had found himself filled with disdain when facing his fellow Summit member. The woman had a large bottle on the bar and a full shot glass in front of her. Lifting the glass to her lips, the Seer threw her head back, and drained the vessel in one quick gulp. She licked her lips for a moment before almost lazily turning to face the man.

“Hello Bentre,” Viru’s tone had a hint of curiosity, “what brings you to this fine establishment?”

“Couldn’t be the company,” Bentre jerked a finger at a gaggle of drunks seated at a nearby table. “I guess I just get bored and restless being holed up in Myrmidon all the time. So I decided to leave Qyreia to babysit the kids while I enjoyed an evening out.”

“Oh,” the word seemed to hang in the air for a moment as it fell from the Umbaran’s lips. Her eyes searched the emotion-twisted features of her comrade. “So then why are you so angry?”

“How do you think I would feel,” a low growl managed to escape his throat with the last word, “seeing you trying to sit in Atra’s chair like you earned the position. How am I supposed to react when you try to replace him like that?”

“Ah,” the Quaestor gaze fell for a moment. A moment passed before she turned face to face with Stahoes. “Aren’t you supposed to get at least a little buzzed before you start the yelling?”

The words obviously bit home for the Shadow. With a yell, Bentre charged forward, throwing out a wild punch. The blow never mangaged to connect with its intended target. With well-trained grace, Keira reached out, grabbing just behind the Warrior’s wrist and pulling hard. The combined momentum threw the Corellian into the bar with a loud crash as bottle and glass were knocked to ground.

“Let’s have it out then, Stahoes,” the Seer motioned tauntingly to her opponent as she stepped backward to put a bit of distance between the two them.

“You better not complain about this later,” Bentre rubbed his jaw as he dropped to one knee. His fingers closed around the handle of his vibroknife as he lifted it from his boot and flourished it. “After all, Anima left some scars on me. I might end up leaving a few souvenirs of my own on that pretty face.”

That's right, carve up those pretty lips of hers, the now familiar voice of Bentre's own darkness whispered through his thoughts. The words were tendrils of hate slithering through the pathways of his mind and closing in around his consciousness, threatening to take control. Make it so she can't show that smug smile again.

The Shadow shook his head violently, the rage surging like fire through his veins helped to stave off the madness with an audible snarl. Keira tilted her head curiously towards her opponent before smirking. "What's the matter? Can't make up your mind?" she queried, the dancing lilt of her voice adding to the taunt. The half-breed reached out quickly with her senses to take a stock of the situation, pushing out from the confines of her own awareness to the tavern without.

The initial exchange, obviously enough, had not gone unnoticed. Patrons made for the further corners of the establishment, and better views, whilst the more confident individuals drew in upon them — the bouncers, more than likely. Hazarding a glance back at them, the raven haired woman flashed a smile and patted the lightsaber at her side. The men instantly halted their approach and began speaking in hushed tones through their comm devices.

That complicated things of course, as they were no doubt alerting the members of Taldryan to their presence at Spanky's, which put a time limit on their continued antics. It was for the best really, working under a timer was how Keira liked it. Too long and she wouldn't be able to knock the upstart down with the finality he deserved. A tingling sensation suddenly shot up her spine, sending the Seer's skin crawling; a sudden sense of dread that refused to be ignored.

Her ice-blue eyes flashed back to face Bentre, finding him mid-charge with his vibroknife dangerously close to her personal space. Understandably, her eyes widened and she leaned back as far as her spine would allow, pushing towards the edge of pain. The Quaestor's hand outstretched as she tapped into the pool of energy at her core, reaching out with unseen hands towards Bentre. The tendrils of power creeped into the cracks of his mind and placed a fog over his perceptions, causing his body's responses to slow.

Unable to maintain her footing, Keira stumbled back, wincing in pain as she crashed haphazardly against a table. Her concentration broke, freeing up Bentre's control once more as he affixed her with a fiery glare — the visible red glow in his left eye serving to accentuate the effect. "Stay out of my mind, witch," the Battleteam leader seethed.

"But it's so easy," Keira retorted, "especially with all that anger." A sudden grin widened across the half-breed's features as her eyes narrowed. "I'm so sorry I'm sitting in Atra's big bad chair, does that trigger your daddy issues?"

"You don't understand!" Bentre bellowed as he closed the gap between them in a single bound, tapping into the Force to add strength to his muscles beyond their limits. Keira rolled to the side, the man's bladed weapon biting deep into the table mere inches from where she had been moments before. Strands of black hair wafted freely through the air, flashing blue in the eclectic lights of the tavern.

On her feet once more, Keira delivered a swift kick to Bentre's shin, setting him off balance as she lashed out with her left hand. The Force extended far beyond her reach, closing around the Shadow's throat even as it pushed him against the very table he had just so viciously assaulted. Viru didn't have to hold the grip for more than several breaths, her hand replacing the unseen power as her other hand grabbed the wrist holding the current, and most pressing, threat — his vibroknife. Seizing her opportunity, Keira moved her hand from his throat and placed it just in front of his face, once more tapping into the well of her power in order to force her way into his thoughts.

A grimace formed on Keira's face as she poured all her focus into breaking the Shadow's mental blocks, Bentre letting out a howl of defiance as she continued to press forward. "Stop fighting me," Keira wheezed through clenched teeth, even as the man continued to bellow. The invisible tug of war continued for several heart beats more before the vibroknife clattered to the table and Keira took several steps back. She brushed an arm across her forearm quickly to swab away the sweat beading upon her brow, a sly smile on her face.

"So that's it, eh?" the Quaestor spoke with a deep breath. "You blame yourself for his death. Poor Bentre, did your little voices tell you that?"

Stahoes slid off the table slowly, keeping an arm on it for support from his temporary mental exhaustion. Anger once more rushed through him. Typically, he would be the one running his mouth off in a situation such as this, but the damnable half-breed seemed equally inclined to do so herself. "You understand nothing. E chu ta," he spat out. The Shadow's free hand curled around the familiar weight of his saber blade, unsure if he wanted to face his superior like the Sith he was training to be, or reach for the blaster in his jacket and fight like the man he had always been.

"I told you, cheeka to keep out of my head," Bentre let out an audible growl as he spoke the last word. His hand slid down to the weapon clipped to his side, his fingers clasping the hilt firmly. He locked his gaze on the woman’s blue eyes. “Just because you are sitting in his chair doesn’t mean you command the same respect he did.” Stahoes lifted his weapon, and activated it with a snap-hiss, the sapphire light casting a cold hue around the Warrior. “You have to understand tha-”

His words were cut short as Keira closed the distance between the two of them. Her own weapon activated as she struck out with the light-blue blade. The Corellian was forced to bring his weapon up haphazardly to block the attack with a grunt. Before he could try to return the favor, Keira had withdrawn just out of range of his lightsaber.

“Are you going to make vague threats, or are you gonna try and prove I can’t replace your papa?” Keira smiled tauntingly.

“You didn’t know him, my dear Quaestor-wanna-be.” Stahoes placed both hands on his lightsaber, stepping forward with determination. He drew on the Force, trying to stem the pain from his leg as he spoke.

Keira did not did not flinch at that the verbal stab, just lowering her head slightly as she regarded her defiant subordinate. Ignoring the pain from his shin, Bentre kicked off a foot. The half-Umbaran only shifted her footing slightly. As the blow came downward, Viru brought her own weapon up, just past her opponents before pushing his blow aside. The tactic served to unsettle Bentre in his anger. He had put too much into the furious attack. As he stumbled, the Seer kicked his pained shin again. While he had managed to temporarily dull his pain in his rage, the blow was enough to jerk Stahoes back to reality as pain blossomed from the limb.

“You don’t have to fight me, Bentre,” Keira shook her head with what seemed to be some mark of sorrow. A small smile quickly broke the illusion. “You don’t have to suffer more over the memories of a dead man.”

“Shut up!” Bentre lifted a hand, bright light blossoming from his palm. The Quaestor sidestepped the desperate attack, and a glass exploded on a table a few feet away. His concentration was slipping and Keira had the clear upper hand.

“This little tantrum needs to stop, Stahoes.” Keira stretched out a hand, grasping at the air. Pulling her hand back horizontally across her chest, the Seer released the grip. A glass from the hand of a gawking patron, crashing into the side of the Shadow’s head. The impact prompt a brief cry of pain.

“Pick yourself up, like a big boy. We’ll get you back home and let you lick your wounds there. Nobody needs to die over a little scrap like this.

“You can go kriffing,” Bentre huffed as he forced himself to his feet. He took a shaky step, drawing closer toward his opponent, who was now standing watching him as he drew closer. In a final act of defiance, Bentre threw out a fist. His Quaestor stepped slightly sideways, letting the strike pass her, placing a foot in the Warrior’s way. Stahoes’ foot caught her, and the man struck the table’s edge hard with a crack. Between the pain of the altercation and the exhaustion of his emotional fit, Bentre’s world finally gave way to darkness.

Bentre's grip loosened upon the hilt of his lightsaber in indecision, his teeth bared in a nasty snarl. "You're not on Nar Shaddaa anymore," the Shadow murmured to himself. The darkness within his thoughts hissed in agreement as his grip tightened once more, his knuckles turning white with effort as he ignited the sapphire blade.

His Quaestor rolled her neck from side to side, letting out a long exhale as the man's blade hissed to life. In an almost lazy gesture, Keira raised her hand and tugged on the Force, summoning her hilt to hand. Her fingers wrapped around it as the elaborate weapon pressed against her palm and ignited in the same instant, sending a cerulean glow that nearly matched that of Bentre's own blade. "I've been in your head, Stahoes," Keira remarked with a smirk, "I understand all too well."

"You weren't there, you can't know," Bentre shouted as he charged forward. He gripped his hilt in a hammer grip, maximizing his strength as he made a direct dash for his target. The Shadow brought his blade up and to the side, bringing it down and across in a cleaving motion. Viru danced back several steps, offering the Warrior only empty air as her saber hung loose and to the side. Bentre growled in frustration, carrying his momentum into a forward spin that afforded him another slash.

With a twirl of her wrist and a quick hop, Keira continued her elaborate dance through the flashing room as her blade connected with the trailing end of her opponent's. The sudden added power forced Stahoes to over swing and brought him off balance. The half-breed stepped in close, reaching out to grip his wrists in an attempt to hold him over-extended. "I do know," she managed between heaving breaths, "you think it was your weakness that caused Atra's death."

The Shadow stared back at Keira, his muscles straining as he focused on her ice blue eyes, and the gold starburst within them. "You even have his eyes," Bentre muttered as he recalled the grey and gold of the prior Quaestor. "Must you take everything from him!?"

Gritting his teeth, Bentre snarled and swung his forehead forward, connecting with Keira's alongside a jarring crack. The Quaestor was forced to stumbled backward several steps, coming to a stop with one hand against the bar for support. Likewise, Bentre was momentarily stunned, having to shake his head several times to clear the sudden ringing from his ears. Tapping into his own power, the Shadow tried to seize the moment and threw his saber towards the bar, turning it into a lethal windmill as it spiraled through the air towards Keira. A curse managed to escape Keira's lips as she dropped into a crouch and deactivated her saber, sparks raining down upon her as the contained plasma of Bentre's weapon carved through the material above her. As the saber swung around back into the Warrior's grasp, Keira grimaced and channeled all her focus towards that single man. "I am not Atra," she screamed as she lashed out with her power, bringing it in around him like a cage.

Stahoes caught his hilt in the same moment as he felt the sudden surge from his Quaestor. He went to shift into a defensive stance, only to find himself completely locked in place. What the hell, he thought as he strained against the invisible force that rippled against him, holding him like a vice. Keira bit her bottom lip hard as she winced, maintaining her focus on Bentre as sweat dripped slowly down her face, stinging her eyes. "Can't you see what you're doing to yourself?" she asked. "Yes, you were weak, and Atra died... but that was his choice to make!"

She is lying, kill her now, the dark voice within Bentre's thoughts whispered from the darkness at his core.

"You couldn't have stopped his choice, no more than you can stop the wind from blowing!" she shouted once more, straining to maintain her hold.

Kill her, the madness hissed again, rage and fury building like a tempest within the Warrior, refusing to be contained. The Force surged through his limbs like a shot of adrenaline, breaking him free of the woman's grasp as he bellowed and suddenly closed the distance between himself and the Quaestor with bounding steps. His left hand closed around her pale throat as he pulled Keira back from the bar, only to slam her back against it with a growl, his sapphire blade held high and ready. "I couldn't save him," the man stated, barely audible above the constant hum of his weapon.

Keira gasped for air, her mouth opening and closing as Stahoes' fingers began to bruise her pale flesh. Even still, a determined look stayed firmly rooted on Viru's features, even as she struggled to breath she refused to — at least outwardly — give in to the possibility of defeat. Bentre looked upon her, managing to mute the voices screaming in his head for a moment as he compared her to his memory of Atra. "He marked me," Bentre muttered as he gestured with his blade towards his scarred eye. "Earned my respect, didn't bother asking for it... he was a warrior."

Taking a deep breath, the Warrior raised his blade high in preparation to execute his own Quaestor, roars of triumph resounding throughout his thoughts as he heard the humming so close to his own ear. Keira's eyes widened in realization, as if she hadn't actually thought he would follow through. With grim determination she bit down hard on her own lip, her brow furrowing with concentration as crimson drops began to stain her chin. Bentre had less than a moment's chance to react as the Force coalesced in the woman's open palm and was suddenly thrust downward. The detonation of energy coursed outward like a tsunami and sent the Warrior careening through a series of tables towards the center of the room while his saber hilt clattered across the ground.

Keira reached towards her throat, coughing and spitting a mixture of blood and saliva to the ground as she keeled over. Rage filled her eyes, the armor of her joking demeanor well and truly shattered as she managed to rise to her feet unsteadily. "You're damn right he was a warrior," her voice was harsh and ragged from her battle for air. "A warrior that died fighting, while you disrespect that act!"

"Is it ego that refuses to let you see that? How conceited can you be!?" she was screaming then, completely lost to her own inner emotions. "How's this for a mark!?" The Quaestor raised her hand, the Force concentrated into pure energy that crackled between her fingertips. Keira's brought her hand back and then whipped it forward, sending a blast of the energy snaking across the room in an instant and coursing through Bentre even as he was rising to his feet. Sparks and tendrils crawled over his skin as he contorted in pain, squirming as he rolled upon the ground.

A rush of exhaustion shot through the Quaestor, her jaw hanging open as she forced herself to walk the distance between herself and the leader of Devil's Shroud. Rampant aftershocks still rippled through Bentre's fetal form, causing visible spasms as she drew closer. Viru winced as she reached for her connection to the Force once more, grasping onto the ghostly strands that were a pale shadow of what she was normally accustomed to. She reached out to the chair next to Bentre, gritting her teeth as she fought to raise even so small a thing as that with the remaining power in her grasp. Finally, the object rose shakily into the air and moved to hover just above Bentre. With a grunt of effort, she gestured down hard and watched as the chair crashed down against Bentre's skull, certainly knocking the poor man out at long last.

Keira collapsed to the ground, completely drained as she reached for her communicator and toggled the live feed. "Qyreia... Unless you want to be the Black Guard that let your Quaestor die," she managed through shaky breaths as the world began to fade and dark forms closed in around them. "You may want to... come get us..."

The last of the Quaestor's stamina left her as her arm fell to the ground, the comm still active as a voice crackled on the other end. "I leave for five minutes, what the kriff, Keira!?"

The voice turned into a duet as a shape moved through the crowd, the apparent recipient of the comm feed. "Red and angry coming through, move it or lose it people," the Quaestor's Black Guard — meant to protect their charges — came into view. "The hell... Bentre!? You two... I... what!?"

The Zeltron mercenary sighed as she pressed her palm to her forehead. "The things I have to put up with... who wants to make some credits and help me carry these two idiots?" Qyreia shouted over the din of the crowd, waving a credit chip around in her hand. "Preferably before the authorities show up, thank you very much!"

"Thanks," Keira murmured as she finally succumbed to her exhaustion, closing her eyes as the world faded to shadow.