As he walked down the hallway, the Dark Lord slowed his breathing. The air was growing progressively thicker with every step as he neared the last door on the left. From here he could tell that his sources had been right. His senses verged on overwhelming as he readied himself. It was the sum of all things; his anticipation, his disgust, his craving and the fact that his prey was now merely a few meters away.
His comlink chimed twice, the signal he had been waiting for. With a small team of soldiers positioned on the ground floor and a pair of snipers positioned across the street, all was in place for another extraction. He was one of the best "Pull Men" in the Empire. Sent in to investigate possible leaks and traitors, the "Pull Men" were a set of unique squads that operated independently of the Imperial Military chain of command. Once transferred into a Pull Squad, the soldiers answer only to their assigned Lord, who receives instructions directly from the Dark Council itself.
The instructions on this operation were simple enough. Investigate a possible force user that had been working with the local democratic movement. Rebel movements were common enough on Dromuund Kaas and often were contained within a few days, but force users tended to complicate simple things. Having a Zabrak terrorist with the ability to manipulate local officials or soldiers could be a major liability. Though originally unsure as to the validity of his information, there was no doubt in the Dark Lord's now.
He took one more second to take in his surroundings, shut his eyes and took one deep breath. He could taste it in the air, that kind of self righteous foolishness that got many young men killed, was about to have the same effect. There was a sense of pride with the faintest taste of fear. That made a small smile appear on the dark hunters face.
He knocked on the door in a very calm manner and felt his prey's surprise. Normally it would be considered foolish to patiently wait for a criminal to answer the door, but he could tell that there was nothing in that room for him to fear. Just a fool that thinks he can make a difference because he has a little bit of power. The footsteps grew closer, then the door's view hole cracked open.
"Yes?" a voice said on the other side of the door.
"Open the door," The knocker responded in a very flat and restrained tone.
"You don't need to come inside," the rebel dictated, giving the faintest hint of force suggestion. This made his new guest laugh.
"Paulo Dugonic, I insist, I've come all this way to see you. You will open the door."
Hearing his name made Paulo's pulse race. Suddenly the rebel knew that this was no mistake and there was no getting around it. When a Dark Lord of the Sith comes knocking at your door, what do you do?
The door slid open and Paulo's eyes met with man of average height. The mysterious man was wearing a metal mask that gave him an almost skeletal appearance. His robes were plain and worn with stitching and patching repairing the tears and cuts in the cloth that occurred over years of battling and training. He was covered from head to toe, giving no hint of his species or age, and emanated an aura of craving. The man walked past Paulo and began investigating the apartment in the casual manner of a potential home buyer checking the conditions of a prospective apartment.
"So what is going to happen to me now?" Paulo asked the mysterious monster that was now taking a seat at the dining table.
"You tell me," the guest said as he began to click the buttons and switches that unlocked his helmet.
"I suppose I mysteriously disappear, never to be heard from again, and my friends are killed in their sleep."
"When you say it like that, you almost sound like a Sith." undoing the last switch.
"What if I turned? What if I helped you instead?"
The helmet was placed on the table and the fear continued to grow within Paulo. He was surprised by the Sith Lord's youth, but the signs of his corruption by the dark side were plain to see. Veins stuck out of the young lord's face and neck pumping what looked too black to be blood. His eyes bloodshot with unnaturally dark irises and purple circles engulfing his eyes. There were scars in detailed tribal patterns going across his face and a lump in the ridge of his nose where had previously been broken. Paulo found himself focused on the eyes. It was as if there was something pulling him towards those dark eyes.
"If you turned, you would provide me with information. Nothing significant, just enough to try and earn my trust. You may even trade in your neighbors across the hall that are preparing to bomb the House of Lords."
Paulo's eyes went wide. It was easy to see that he was running out of ideas. Any hope that once lived in this man was now completely gone as he perfumed the air with his fear, and that fear only wet the appetite of the beast that was about to feed. The lord basked in the moment, savoring the sheer terror as he continued.
"The fact of the matter is that though you may claim to help us, you are weak. You do not possess the vision or will to do what is really in the benefit of your people. You stumble around like a child with his first taste of ale. Drunk on your power and idealistic principals you believe that you can not be stopped. That it is the will of the Force for you to... make a difference. One day you will try something foolish and prove that you weren't worth the keeping around to begin with."
"If you weren't planning on letting me live, why have I made it this far?" the now shaking man asked.
"Before this you were just a name on a list. I had to see you for myself, and now I can see exactly how this is going to end."
It was almost in an instant. A couple books and some chairs erupted from their resting places towards the Sith Lord moving barely a meter before freezing in place mid air. It was a sight to see. Paulo's arms fully extended and straining to push the projectiles forward, while this mysterious stranger still casually sat back in his chair. The robed man snapped his fingers and the Paulo was lifted from the ground. Everything started to swirl slowly around the room in a circular drag of destruction and the sith lord rose from his chair.
"Your power is new to you. It is unnatural...misplaced. You have something that you do not deserve, and it is time for it to return to proper hands."
What had started as a light push in the force and now escalated to a raging whirlwind, emptying cabinets and starting to tear away at the walls. The Sith's once dark eyes were now emanating a strange yellow glow and Paulo felt as his fear was forcefully maginified and intensified. Til tears poured and his wails of terror could almost be heard over the sound of the cyclonic madness that was going around the room, then as quickly as the exchange began, it ended. The spinning stopped, the fear stopped and a strange safe that had once been hidden in the wall floated to the middle of the room. It peeled open with a wave of the lord's hand revealing a collection of treasures from a number of planets. Some of them as old as the Immortal Emperor himself and found a small Holocron.
"The lost teachings of Ne'ro Joac. Considered blaspheme by some, but for others a means of shifting the force. Giving it to others, or taking it for one's self. It's a path that many have followed but few have mastered."
The frozen man floated towards the dark lord until they were inches apart.
"You have the holocron, you know about my friends. What do you want?"
The killer repeated to his victim, "You have something that you do not deserve, and it is time for it to return to proper hands."
After the feast was over the squad joined their leader inside. The troopers made their way over the debris spread along the floor. Books, pictures, and kitchenware, the mess covering the ground the was nothing compared to the bizarre remains of Paulo Dugonic. The body was curled in a ball near the Sith Lord's feet. His eyes open and covered in a strange blue sheet of gloss. In briefing they had been told that Dugonic was a formidable man of thirty-two years, with long brown hair, but the body that laid before them had to be at least seventy, and while some patches of hair remained, more of it seemed to be laying on the floor under his head. Cool air seemed to emanate from the corpse. The dark robed man was kneeled at the body facing away from his soldiers.
"Lieutenant Draxim, report..."
"We have detained the neighbors and contained their weapons. How should we proceed?" The broad shouldered Lieutenant responded as more of his troops filed into line.
"Bring them in," the lord said as he closed his eyes.
A pair of Twi'leks were brought in and thrown to the floor behind the focused Dark Lord. Draxim stood next to his master and tapped a switch on the side of his helmet.
"When did you slaves start becoming so much trouble?" the robed man.
The red skinned of the two Twi'leks spat on him. "What makes you think that you're people should be so entitled while the Twi'leks suffer?"
"You pathetic worm, do you really think your squirming matters to me. The Zabrak have sold you out. They told me where I could find you and what you were hiding."
The red-skinned Twi'lek erupted with anger while the blue one remained silent with a contemplative look across his face as if suspicious of something.
"Horn-headed Bastards! What did you..." His words started to trail off as he started to take note of Paulo's corpse for the first time. They had noticed it upon entering, but had paid it enough attention to really take it in and grasp what had happened to their accomplice. "Go ahead and kill us, our bombs will still go off. You can not stop that which you don't understand."
"I understand." The Sith responded, triggering surprise in the Twi'leks. "You feel abused...weak. You feel as though you have no control over your destiny and are stuck doing following a path that was dictated to you, while you wish to control you own fate. You feel betrayed. You feel afraid." He turned and revealed his face to them for the first time. Veins were pulsating in his neck and face as though there was too much blood pumping for his body to handle. "I understand, I just don't care." His eyes turned dark as night while the two Twi'leks slowly rose from the ground.
Their motion was fluid and controlled, but it was easy to see that control was not in their hands. "I'd care if you weren't so weak. If you could make me care, but you can't so I don't. Every breath you take, every word you say, is only an indulgence allowed by us. We allow you to live and spread your stink through our empire, and I'm tired of it. Every second that I breath in your filth, it strains me, but I've learned a way to deal with this stress. Would you like to see?"
He could feel excitement coming from his troops. They always loved to watch the kill. They're master had grown more creative over the years. They had even started gambling on how he would kill each next victim, until he found out and killed the soldier running the pool.
The Sith Lord leaned his head back and started to stretch it from side to side. The Twi'leks' heads started to bob in similar motion in sync with his own movements. Then with one quick twist the sith made a cracking sound with his neck, and his two victims dropped. Dead before they hit the floor.
Lieutenant Draxim clicked another button on his helmet. "Fixer 23, status?"
A voice came over their comm system reporting from their base, "I have the footage, almost done with my 'corrections' then I'll be read to leak the story to news teams whenever you are ready."
Draxim turned to his master. "We can be in position and ready to proceed within the hour."
"This should keep the public occupied for some time," the Sith responded while putting his mask back on. He turned to the holocron and summoned it to his hand. "When you are done, meet me back at base. There is someone I must see first."
"Yes Lord Ynot"
The cantina was dark, but warm. The Shaky Leg had a reputation for being very liberal about its dress code, and the owner kept the heat turned up to encourage customers to disrobe. All of the common vices could be found in the cantina, and plenty of uncommon ones. The smell of death sticks and spilt liquors would fill the air, if there wasn't a steady flow of aphrodisiac pheromones being pumped through the air system.
The dance floor was crowded with variety of races, but it was easy to tell who was their for pleasure and who was wearing a shock collar. To the side of the dance floor were a number of tables then a hallway that led to rooms with more privacy. You could get anything you wanted if you knew the right person, the club was filled with regulars that were known for getting the job done, none better than a Twi'lek named Rainhamer.
He sat at a table near the back accompanied by a Twi'lek Woman and a human boy. The woman at to the side of Rainhamer with her left arm wrapped around his shoulder, playing with his lekku. While they watched the young boy dance. Rainhamer was by no means a small man, by the size of his belly, one would assume he was more likely to eat the child than anything else, but anyone that had spoken to Rainhamer for more than 5 minutes knew far too much about what the obese Twi'lek liked to do with little boys.
A server droid approached the table with another round of drinks and a message for the smuggler. "Your guest has arrived and is waiting in the rear performance room for you."
Rainhamer stood up and lifted his glass. "To me," he chuckled as he downed his next drink in a single gulp and burped in the droid's face. "I wish you had a sense of smell, cause that was B-Utiful."
"My ability to smell is arguable. While I am able to detect the gases that you released, I am still physically unaffected by the sm..."
"I get it, sense of smell and sense of humor. Two things you can comprehend but clearly don't have. Tell security to bring in the goodies."
"Yes sir!" The droid responded as he waddled to the nearest security guard.
With a nod of his head, his two companions got up and joined him on his way to the back. He walked down the hall with his hand cupping the Twi'lek woman's firm behind. The child was running back and forth down the hall peaking his head into different private rooms and shouting random profanities.
When they arrived in the final private room, they found a single man. He was dressed in a simple green suit. His hair was well kept, and his skin tan. On first glance there was nothing special about this man, just an average guy in a cantina.
"Your late..." The man greeted Rainhamer without turning to face him.
"The droid told me that you just arrived?" the smuggler said in his own defense.
"I did. I came here soon after receiving your message that you returned to Kaas City, but the fact remains you are nearly a month late."
"If you're not happy, I can always take 'em somewhere else. I can always find a new buyer, I don't think you will have as easy of a time finding someone else that can get this job done. Especially not with these results."
As he said that two of the cantina's security droids walked in escorting a line of pale skinned women. Mostly bald, with tribal markings and simple yet stunning beauty.
"Rattataki are tough to acquire. The women are most formidable. I had the chance to sample the two on the end." Rainhamer said with a slimy grin, "They were quite delicious."
The man turned from Rainhamer and started pacing down the line, inspecting the product. He didn't bother with the two on the end, unsure of what they may have caught from their captor. He looked each one in the eye and assessed them. The Twi'lek smuggler looked a little perplexed as he asked, "You're really into the eyes aren't ya? Personally I'm more of a armpit guy."
"This one," the man stated while starring down the third woman from the end. There was a fire in her. While most of them had been looking at the floor defeatedly, she glared right back at him. She wasn't sad, she was angry, and he could taste it. Her anger burnt bright and focused, like instead of giving up, she was still waiting for her chance to escape. There was something about this woman that demanded his attention.
"Just the one? But you hired me to get ten?"
"And you have found me one, it's not your fault. It's like hunting with a hound that has no sense of smell. You didn't know what you were looking for."
"Listen, this cost me fuel, time, and I lost two of my guys on that damned planet. If you think you can just come in here and low-ball me..." the twi'lek put his hand on his pistol and unlocked it from its holster.
"No, you listen," the man said as he raised one hand. With that motion the twi'lek's boy-toy was lifted from the ground and pinned against a wall. "Your manners have been most unsavory in our dealings, but I allow it because you found what I was looking for. I allow it because I may have further use of you, but it is time that you realized that you are dealing with a Sith Lord, not some senator looking to get his kicks off." He squeezed his hand tighter and the boy started to scream out in pain as he felt his bodying being pulled from every limb. "If I wasn't happy, you would be aware." There was a popping sounds as both of the boys shoulders popped out of socket. "But as I said, you've done a good job, and because of that, you will be paid in full as promised. But don't presume to know me or what I am capable of."
In less than a heart beat Rainhamer pulled his gun from its holster and squeezed the trigger releasing one round. Then the smuggler squeezed out a smirk, "Don't presume to know me or what I am capable of." As he put down his weapon, the Sith Lord put down the boy, with his fresh bullet wound to the forehead. Seeing how easily the smuggler tossed his lover's aside made the lord smile as well. He had been surprised by the Twi'lek's reputation, but the criminal's skills and cutthroat instincts impressed the Sith. Looking at Rainhamer's female companion, this seemed to be common practice as she was unaffected by the murder and was lighting up another Death Stick.
"You continue to surprise me. Do you have any other engagements?"
"Just a couple spice runs through the colonies. You Sith don't seem to mind, as long as I keep it in the slums."
This caused a mix of emotions in the Sith Lord. Pride to see a plan he had helped devise working with such success, but also a bit of resentment. Though it was originally his idea to keep the lower class under control through the underground sales of spice, his master, Lagana, took credit for the plan. It wasn't until he killed Lagana a few years ago that the council learned the truth.
"When will you be returning to Republic space?"
"A couple weeks," the Twi'lek shrugged.
Without reaching into a pocket a cred chip floats from the sith towards Rainhamer before coming to rest floating a foot in front of the Twi'leks face. "You will find that there is more than enough on that chip. Consider yourself on retainer. There is much for you to do out here."
"I don't do leashes or shock collars, unless she's into it. And I don't like to sit around."
"Then don't. Go on your spice run. Go capture some more love slaves for the cantinas. Do what you like, but when I send for you... you respond."
The Sith turned to look at his latest purchase. Skin as pale as the moon, she glared back at him with clear disgust. He could feel her hatred as if it were a slap on the face, but this only pleased him more as he imposed his will on her. In a room full of people blind to the force, they were the only two people aware of this emotional conversation going on between the two. The Sith looked into her eyes and triggered a feeling in the back of her mind. Pain.
She felt as though her brain was being torn apart. It lasted only a second, but for her the pain was clear and vivid. It ended as quickly as it began, but the memory of it echoed, reminding her of the power her new master commanded. Then without a word he walked towards the door with her close behind.
The Twi'lek was clearly surprised by how quickly and silently the slave gave into her new master. She had been one of the most difficult catches of his career. He had almost let her go based only on the number of near successful escape attempts she had made, almost depressurizing his ship and killing the crew in the process.
As the two left the room, Rainhamer looked at the limp body of the boy he had shot in the face. "I'm gonna miss little Gandire," he said.
"I thought his name was Matt?" the female twi'lek responded.
Rainhamer rolled his eyes in annoyance and without looking at his companion, pulled his gun out and let out one round to her temple.
"I'm gonna miss you too, whatever your name was."
As he picked her have smoked death stick out of the tray, a young Twi'lek male ran into the private room. "Boss, we gotta get outta here."
"What's wrong?"
The younger man turned on the vidscreen halfway through a newscasters report. "...into a massacre. Though tension has been building between the two races for some time, we believe that this attack may be the start of a new stage in the conflict. This feud had been kept to the streets of the slums for some time, but with the bombing on the new Zabrak school in lower Kaas, this gang war may become open war. The following was a call from the home of known terrorists Kyla and Ygori Gambrig that took place just an hour before the explosion."
The vid switched to show a picture of a Red skinned Twi'lek next to a Blue skinned Twi'lek with stern looks on their faces. "What makes you think that you're people are so entitled while the Twi'leks suffer? Horn-headed Bastards! Go ahead and kill us, our bombs will still go off. You can not stop that which you don't understand."
The screen then switched to shots of the Twi'lek district with mobs of angry Zabrak destroying everything they could get their hands on. Buildings were catching fire and Twi'lek women and children were being beaten in the open.
"Start her up, we leave in ten."
"No can do," as the spoke the vid showed a quick shot of buildings catching fire, including the dock that Rainhamer had left his ship.
"Stang," Rainhamer said reaching for the cred chip in his pocket.
"Then I guess its time we got something new."
Quickly eyeing over the women still left over from his sale to the sith, he grabs two by the wrists and they make their way out the back escape a few seconds before the doors of the cantina burst open in a wave of hate, blood, and vengeance. As Rainhamer, his shipmate and his two slaves got in a speeder, something on the roof caught his eye. Looking down over the mayhem and carnage that filled the Twi'lek district was Rainhamer's new employer and his prize catch, enjoying the show.