*The following is a recording taken from a Republic security camera, prison level, Coruscant. Approx. 3500-3000 BBY*
The man's robes were long, concealing, and looked, felt, and smelled like a flap of skin shaved off a Bantha. The two guards felt an increasing need to wash their hands as they led the cuffed prisoner into an interrogation room.
They shoved him roughly into a chair (receiving a disapproving glare for their troubles, then stood on opposite sides of the door and waited.
"So…anything going on these days?" hazarded the prisoner in a weak bid to initiate small talk.
"What's going on is that your interrogator is currently on her way. She hasn't the best of reputations concerning prisoner treatment. Good enough?" replied one of the guards.
"That works," the man responded, shrugging.
The trio waited in silence for around two minutes until the door slid open and a robed woman entered.
"Master Jedi," said the guards in greeting. She nodded curtly, taking a seat on the other side of the table.
"Why were you at a bar?" she asked.
"Wait, what? No introductions?"
"Later. Now answer the question."
"What do you think 99% of bar patrons are there for? To get drunk."
She frowned, obviously puzzled.
"Let's try this again. Start somewhere else. What's your name?"
"Sammill Nax."
Her eyebrow jutted upward.
"Something the matter?" asked the man.
"I have to say, I was expecting you to give us your 'other' name."
"My what?"
"Do not pretend to be ignorant, Lord Raxthan."
The man sputtered, composed himself, then bent over laughing.
"Oh, geeze, his mouth could function as a bloody hangar," he said between guffaws.
The Jedi's jaw was by this point hanging wide open.
"Look, I was talking to an associate of mine, wondering why I didn't have some ominous title. He kept badgering me until I finally told him that name to get him to shut up."
The interrogator shook her head. She reminded herself that sanity wasn't a strong point among his kind.
"Alright, let's shift back to my first question. You're a Sith, wanted for several murders, and you came to Coruscant of all places…to get drunk?"
"Best Corellian Ale this side of Corellia. Why not?"
"Well, there's the whole 'fugitive' issue."
"And?"
Jedi Master Ginzs shook her head.
"This isn't…going as expected," she muttered.
"What were you expecting?"
"At least two or three 'You'll get nothing out of me, Jedi scum!'s, or a 'The Republic shall crumble!' instead of full cooperation."
"Both statements are untrue. Cliché, too."'
Ginzs wrung her hands together. She had no idea what to say, so she went with the most immediately obvious course of action.
"Tell me about yourself."
"Sure, why not? What do you want to know?"
"Your life. Start at the beginning."
"Well, Dad got Mom drunk one night…"
"Later than that.
"Fine. Born here on Coruscant, junkie mother and a father I've never learned the name of."
"What made you join the Sith?"
"Well, my dear, sweet Master found me here. Replaced one of my mother's syringes with one loaded with acid and made me watch. Not the nicest sort of fellow."
"And then?"
"He taught me. What else? Lightsaber combat, the history of the Sith and the Jedi (with all the proper embellishments, of course), Force usage, the works."
"What happened to him?"
"He's passed on, I'm afraid."
"By your hand?"
"Indirectly. You see, he discovered that I possess a knack for alchemy, primarily creating poison. He became so paranoid that I would poison him that he stopped eating anything not tested by a dozen droids. He even brought in a couple of slaves to be tasters. Then he stopped eating at all, relying on the Force for nourishment, but quit that because he felt too exposed while doing it. He died of starvation without me lifting a finger."
"Did you arrange for this to happen?"
"I noticed it happening, then gently pushed it along."
She stifled a yawn, feeling exhausted for no apparent reason. She attributed it to the long day.
"Why are you telling us this?"
"Because I've been exhaling poison for the last five minutes."
She gaped at him, brain taking a few seconds to comprehend the words entering her ears. The guards raised their weapons, then collapsed unconscious. Nax rose from his seat, expression as neutral as it had been when he had entered.
Ginzs shot to her feet and pulled out her lightsaber. She raised a hand in the air, aimed at him.
"Explain! NOW!"
"Why?"
With a grunt of annoyance, she channeled the Force through her arm, culminating at her hand as a sphere of potential energy.
Before she could launch it, however, her stomach seemed to invert. She vomited an unsightly mixture of blood, partially-digested food, and stomach acid. Nax shook his head.
"See, it's just a little soporific agent I keep in my lungs. But if someone who inhales it tries to use the Force…"
He did not finish his statement. He didn't need to.
He picked up her fallen lightsaber, ignited it, and cut his shackles, pocketing the weapon.
Leaving two people and one corpse behind, he took his leave.