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.

The hunt is over.

It surprised Kul that four seemingly harmless words could put a damper on his day. The message had spread quickly across the Inquisitorius channels, most likely in the middle of multiple operations taking place. Like it had for Kul. The Zabrak had been tasked with trailing a certain Sadowan named Mactire. Mainly for intel, but the implied orders seemed to highlight that if the man was deemed a threat to Inquisitorius operations then force was permitted. Even if it had not been permitted, Kul would have found some way to entertain himself. Like he would now. Orders were orders, but who was to say that this Mactire was not a threat just because it appeared he might not be? The least Kul could do was finish his mission. And if he got a fight out of it, well...that would just be an added bonus.

The Zabrak reined in his roaming thoughts and brought focus back to his surroundings. The dive he was currently segued away in was a bit much for his simplistic tastes, but the tension in the air warning of potential violence made his hearts beat with excitement nonetheless. His target was still encompassed in their drink, so he spared a moment to scan the room again. The Twi’lek waitress who kept eagerly trying to offer him refills with a glowing smile approached again, but he waved her away lest she distract him. It wasn’t until his gaze came back around to the corner where his mark had been sitting that he had to do a double take. The man was gone.

Kul immediately grew wary, his eyes jumping from corner to corner, but could not find the human. He was shorter than the average human so tracking him in a crowd was more difficult. That added to the fun, though. Instead of focusing on size itself, Kul scanned for a cloak with some sort of military symbol on it. Perhaps an old unit? Not that it mattered.

A flash of silver at the exit suddenly caught Kul’s eye as it reflected in the cerulean lights of the club. As he watched, a flowing cloak was exiting the building. A cloak much like the one he had seen Mactire wearing prior. Slapping some credits down on the table, Kul made his way to the exit. He carefully timed his leaving to not put himself too close to his mark in the crowd. If what Kul had found on him was true, then he was trained in a lot of the same tactics that Kul was. Infiltration and concealment being the two main ones. A smile etched its way across his red face. Certainly a prey worth hunting.

The Zabrak nearly made it outside into the open street when a hammer slammed into his chest. He was propelled from his feet and went sliding back into the bar. He wheezed a bit as his lungs checked to make sure they had not imploded, but managed to get to his feet and brush himself off. The fall had not been as hard as he’d thought it would be considering the floor was solid durasteel with a thin carpet in places. An angry phrase in Ryl caught his attention and he glanced back to where the Twi’lek waitress was lying in shambles. Oh. So that’s what had softened his landing.

Offering an apology he helped her up, tossing a few credit chips in her hands. Just before being blindsided again by another telekinetic blast. This time the table caught him. Not as soft as a Twi’lek woman, he noted.

This time when he managed to untangle himself from a feisty Ryn and his mate, Kul found himself face-to-face with the human he’d been watching. Well, not face--to-face exactly, but close enough. The Zabrak looked down at the man, who was clearly agitated. Looked like Kul would get that fight after all.

Mactire gazed long and hard at the Zabrak. The club had gotten eerily quiet as the locals figured out something was going on, but it did not dissuade him from poking a stiff finger in the Zabrak’s chest.

“Why are you following me, Zabrak?”

Kul smiled.

“Would you believe me if I said for fun?”

And then the Zabrak punched the tiny human in the face.

The punch cracked the Sadowan clear across the nose, causing him to stumble back.

Grinning slightly as blood trickled from nose to his mouth the Mystic stood up, stepping closer to his adversary.

“Ok then let’s dance.” Mactire said with anger.

As the Sadowan got closer to the opposition, the Zabrak leaned forward throwing a left hook. Swaying backwards slightly the Mystic kicked his right leg up against the outer part of this threats left arm, pushing him backwards towards the crowd that was now gathering around them.

“Looks like we have an audience. Let’s put on a show!” Howled Mactire throwing up his arms and facing the citizens that were quickly gathering around.

The Zabrak charged towards the Human, with an irritable feeling in his gut. As the Human turned to face the Zabrak once again a flying left kick was racing towards his head.

The Sadowan dropped, sliding to the left side as the Zabrak landed. Springing up the Human spun, hard extending his right leg, catching it on the shoulder of his opponent.

The Zabrak smiled taking the hit, while slightly moving to the side of the impact.

“Now I’m intrigued. You know our fighting style. This is really going to be fun.” the Zabrak said slyly.

Letting his cloak flutter, for a moment, the Human stood back up, just as the Zabrak was charging head first toward him.

Allowing his enemy to get closer the Sadowan, dropped to the ground, dodging the attack. As the Zabrak was standing over him, the Human smiled placing his left had on the rib cage of the enraged man. Concentrating slightly on the Force, he sent the Zabrak flying into the crowd knocking over a few people in the process.

Shaking his head lightly Mactire stood up, walking towards the Zabrak to attempt to broker a truce for now.

Upon getting closer an eerie feeling washed over the Mystic stopping him in his tracks.

The Zabrak stood up seething with rage. A Zhaboka was gripped tightly in his hands, he was spinning it wildly. With such grace and precision, reminding the Human of his former master.

“AHHH!” bellowed the Zabrak as he lept forward towards his prey.

The Sadowan tried to dodge but the Zabraks movements were far too quick for him. One end of the blade came down slicing the Mystic across the chest, as a kick from the attackers right leg planted itself firming in the same spot sending the Sadowan tumbling backwards in agony.

Groaning lightly the Human stood up on his feet, placing his right arm on his wound, while gasping at the air. The kick had knocked the wind out of him badly. This fight was going to become a battle soon.

As if the Zabrak could read his thoughts he charged with unmatched speed again towards the Human, this time leaping into the air swinging the Zhaboka towards the left side of the neck line.

The Mystic extended his left wrist blade, blocking the attack. While being pushed to the side from the power behind the attack. Looking at his own blade the Human noticed that there was a crack in it from the attack.

Taking off the wrist blade, letting it fall to the ground with at thunk. The Human was breathing heavily. These attacks were straining his endurance. Pushing him to the limits.

Glancing at the Zabrak, the Mystic noticed that he was panting as well, only slightly heavier than.

Both realized this was match that was going to go the distance, as the Zabrak charged again swinging his weapon, the Mystic braced himself for another round.

The human had tossed aside his wrist blade, giving Kul an opportunity to move in closer with his zhaboka. With a firm twist and pull, the Zabrak triggered the weapon’s coupler and detached the separate halves. He deftly spun each blade to face away from his opponent and fell into his crouching Jar’kai stance, body twisting like a spring as he moved closer. In preparation the human had chosen to remain unarmed himself and was currently bouncing from foot to foot in eagerness. Kul paused momentarily at seeing the familiar style, (it was strange to see a human using the art of his people, after all) but he scoffed and continued. Taking two long strides, the Zabrak used the first to propel himself forward, while the second lifted him into the air to kick off from a table just off to their side. Hoping to use momentum and raw power to overpower the smaller human, Kul used the spin from his push off to torque his body, creating a whirlwind of blades.

Mactire had to react quickly, dropping low and placing his weight upon his hands. With a short twist of his own he turned his hips which allowed him to kick out from beneath the Zabrak’s blades. When Kul landed the zhaboka pieces tore deep grooves into the wall where Mactire had been before. Even though his breathing was becoming more ragged, Kul fought through the pain and slashed again and again as the human used tables, threw drinks, and even pushed a fleeing Rodian, who had apparently missed the ruckus while in the restroom, in the path of Kul’s reaching blades. The Zabrak knew he needed to get the human into a corner, so he dealt with the annoying bar fight tactics and kept pushing his prey further into a cage. The human had realized it, too. In his exhaustion, Kul failed to account for an important fact. He lured his prey into the dark corner in hopes of cornering the human, but a cornered creature is when it is actually at its strongest. Desperation can give even the smallest of prey the fighting spirit of a Krayt dragon.

Mactire discovered his advantage with time to prepare by half retreating, half leading himself into the corner. In doing so the Zabrak’s tall form covered most of his field of view. Which meant it would be impossible to miss. The human braced himself by planting his feet, and drew a long, hearty breath. The next few seconds appeared to form an eternity. Kul had positioned himself by flipping his blades rightside up in order to gore the human. As the Zabrak bore down on Mactire, the human’s call to the Force was answered and he felt his tired body suffuse with borrowed energy. Bringing his hands back, he then cast them forward and imagined a tidal wave crashing through the building. The ground beneath both of them quaked slightly as raw kinetic energy suddenly filled the air. Kul’s right blade had found its way between Mactire’s hands, a mere inches away from penetrating his chest cavity, when its progress was suddenly halted. Not just halted, but rejected entirely. The Zabrak’s feet left the ground and he was thrown violently into a line of booths behind them. Multiple cracks and snaps were heard, but the few remaining witnesses could not be sure if it was the Zabrak or now smashed chairs and booths they had heard. In either case, the Zabrak twitched a few times before lying still.

Mactire felt his breath escape in a sigh, not even realizing he’d been holding it. His legs were trembling, but he still managed to make his way over to the bar. Reaching over the smooth stone, he noticed a bartender droid huddled behind it. He gave a quick smile before pilfering a bottle and sliding to the ground. He popped the top off and took a swig. After a brief respite, the klaxon of sirens penetrated the glass windows. Forcing himself up, the human walked over to the Zabrak’s body and tossed the drink to him before walking out, cloaking himself until he could get into an alley.