Failure Is Not Fatal

The rain had been heavy all evening. As Jacen was flung across the street he skidded through inch-deep water, sending a little wave towards the far curb.
Letting out a low groan, he planted one hand on the road and lifted his head. His vision swam, slowly focusing on the cafe built under the highway above. One figure emerged from the door. Other faces looked out at him from the smashed window. The window he had just been thrown through.
"Kark," Jacen swore, pushing himself up onto one knee.
Two more figures emerged from the shadows beneath the highway. The light was slow and lazy down here, barely reaching the corners of the streets. The headlights of the odd landspeeder crossing the highway above added a little more light. Not enough to really study those stalking towards him.
This wasn't a bar fight. They had been waiting. Jacen held up both hands, palms forwards, defensively.
"Look, I don't know what you want but take..."
His protest was cut short but a sudden blow. A gut punch through the Force itself that sent him reeling back into the wet road. These were not common criminals.
"I am too old for this," he muttered under his breath. A sudden sound focused his attention.
He sat up to see a single red lightsaber blade. The rain hissed as each drop was instantly vaporised by the blade.
"We know who you are," called the woman off to his right. Just enough light to see gender now. Also enough to see the black tattoo down the back of her hand.
The dark mark. Former followers of the One Sith Lord.
Jacen swore under his breath again.