Animus looked slowly from the rooftop, one area, a group of force-users fought. That didn't concern him, at the moment. In the end, it didn't really matter. They all eventually knocked each other off or bumped each other off or died of some ridiculous outing or duel sometime. However, the return of the Yuzghan Vong, did. The bleep that had brought him here was an obvious trap, records had shown the ship's manifest and crew had been taken by insurance close to four years ago. So someone activated the distress beacon. Animus came up behind a Vong scout, unsheathing his vibroknife. He stuff it under the Vong's armpit, where the crabshell armor had it's lungs. He stabbed it and twisted it, and then placed his hand over the Vong's mouth. Covered everywhere except the squishy parts.
He turned and jammed the knife directly into the Vong's eyeball, twisted it to ensure certain death. Animus cursed, letting the body drop slowly as to not draw attention. He needed to skate, and quick. Rakghouls would smell the blood, and although his sneaky attire would mostly cover his scent, Rakghouls were terrifying hunters, and the Vong returning was bad juju. Animus needed to report to the Imperium ASAP pronto-super-fast. This was not the time to be dilly-dallying, he needed to get back to his personal interceptor and get the kark out of there.
For once, Animus would be the good guy.