Zarek walked through the academy and reached the prison in the back right corner of the lower level, he overheard a conversation while entering the Academy prison.
"One more chirp from you, little bird, and you'll regret it!" Jailer Knash grunted, he's a bald man with a goatee, holding a switch in his left hand.
"Chirp, chirp chirp!" Vette, the blue-skinned Twi'lek quipped, looking at Jailer Knash with a smirk on her face, but soon turned to pain when Knash press his thumb onto the trigger.
Bzzzzt!
The Twi'lek writhed in pain as the electrical shock ran through her body, Vette feel as if she'd just been lit on fire. After a few agonizing seconds, Knash released his thumb from the trigger, freeing Vette from the torment.
"Ow, jerk!" Vette exclaimed, rubbing the shock collar around her neck. " If you don't like that, just say so. I can do other animals too! Dire-cat, frog-dog, Kowakian monkey-lizard, you name it."
Her natural defiance and sense of humor helped her cope with the dire situation she found herself in. However, Vette couldn't help but feel a mixture of fear and regret as she continued to taunt her jailer, knowing full well that she had gotten herself into this mess.
Damn it, Vette! She thought to herself. Really? Treasure hunting on the Sith homeworld? What a smart idea! Look at what you've gotten yourself into!
As Zarek approached the scene, it caught him off guard, so unexpected that he couldn't help but be intrigued by the feisty blue Twi'lek and her refusal to be cowed by her jailer. Zarek barely stifled the slight chuckle as he heard Vette's sarcastic response.
Zarek also developed some admiration for this Twi'lek girl, any other creature who would have been terrified or lost the will to live when thrown into a Sith Imperial prison. But somehow, despite her situation, this Twi'lek seemed to retain a spark of defiance and resilience and maintain her humor and sarcasm.
For a brief moment, Zarek stared at the Twi'lek and studied her. Her skin was a pale blue, and darker color lines ran down her Lekku. She appeared lithe in those tight-fitting clothing and showed off her alluring curve, leaving little to the imagination. And her eyes, Zarek noticed a soft violet color as he met with Vette's gaze, he found them quite fascinating.
Just before Knash shocked the Twi'lek in the cage again, he heard the sound of someone clearing their throat, but it was distorted by the modulator.
He turned around and see a menacing acolyte standing right behind him. Immediately, the bald Jailer directed his attention to the newcomer.
Vette's eyes couldn't help but be drawn to Zarek as the young Sith acolyte neared. He was clad in a dark black acolyte robe, its hood casting a shadow over his mask. The acolyte mask covered Zarek's entire visage, adding an air of mystery to his presence, and Vette couldn't help but feel a mix of intrigue and wariness.
Despite his ominous attire, Vette could sense an underlying strength and confidence in the way he carried himself, and it drew her attention. She was no stranger to dealing with dangerous individuals, but something about Zarek set him apart from the others she had encountered in the past.
His outfit, which seemed tailored to evoke fear and submission, seemed to contrast with the aura of intelligence and curiosity that emanated from him. Vette couldn't help but wonder about the person beneath the mask and robe – who was he? And what does he want?
"You. I'm Jailer Knash. I run these cells and slave pits," Knash looked Zarek up and down, "You're the acolyte Tremel sent for the test right?"
"Name's Zarek, I'm here for the trial," Zarek replied.
As Zarek approached, Vette tried to discern any hints about his identity from his obscured features, but the mask offered no clues other than he was a Sith acolyte.
however, Vette felt a strange sense of connection with Zarek, as if they were both caught in the same web of fate, their lives somehow intertwined. It was a fleeting thought, one that she quickly dismissed as foolish, given their current circumstances.
It was a strange and unnerving sensation, feeling drawn to someone she couldn't even see. Still, she couldn't deny the allure that this young Sith held for her, even as she remained wary of his true intentions.
"Hrmph, Tremel thinks highly of you," Knash said, studying the young man. "You should know this situation is highly unusual. Normally an acolyte goes off-world for the interrogation. Overseer Tremel had these three shipped in for you."
Knash gestured towards the three prisoners, each contained in their own cell. Zarek followed Knash's hand, glancing at other cells, and felt a strange relief that the young Twi'lek girl was not part of his trial.
"What can I say?" Zarek shrug his shoulders, the smirk in his voice was obvious. "Everybody loves me."
Knash grunted, "He thinks you're the next coming of Exar Kun. But you ought to know, Tremel ain't the only one paying attention to you."
"Looks like I gonna be famous," Zarek laughs at the comments but pondered the pros and cons of his new reputation. On one hand, it was good that others noticed his strength, skill, and his blazing progress; this would be useful in convincing or subjugating others. However, on the other hand, those who may have an agenda against Tremel will definitely see him as a threat.
"Now, these three prisoners have been transferred here for your inspection," The Jailer explained, "You gotta interrogate them as needed, and then decide their fate. The convicted are usually executed or given a trial by combat to see if they're worthy."
"Whatever you decide," Knash said, pointing at Zarek's weapons, "You will be the one to carry out the sentence."
Zarek smile under his mask, "I was hoping this will keep me entertained."
"Hrmph, fine. Let's get started." Knash grunted again, then looked at the three prisoners before eventually moving to the first prisoner.
Zarek noticed the jailer grunts a lot. But then again, if he was the one in charge of this shithole, he will be in a perpetually foul mood too.
"This one on the left-" Knash started, before being interrupted by the first prisoner; a human female.
"You freaks aren't getting anything new out of me." The woman with short dark hair snapped. Obviously, she has already been tortured, her face and body were covered by cuts and bruises. "Just do whatever you're gonna do."
Zarek scoffed, stepping closer to the prison bars. "So you were hoping for blind Mercy? Do you know where you are, lady? Let me make this plain as day. If you don't cooperate, I will kill you."
"You don't have to tell me. There's no such thing as mercy here. I know how this story ends, I'm not afraid to die." The first prisoner replied.
"Impudent to the last." Knash said, frustration billowing out from the tone of voice, "As I was saying, her name is Solentz. She was sent to kill an Imperial spy in the Yavin system. Throughout her torture, she maintained she was hired anonymously."
"Get it through your damn heads!" The dark-haired woman shouted, standing strong despite the previous interrogation. "I had no idea that he was Imperial, and I don't know who hired me!"
A fellow assassin? Interesting... Zarek thought.
"So, you're telling me you're not a Republic assassin?" Zarek inquired, his curiosity piqued.
Solentz countered, "I'm not political. I work for whoever pays."
"And you don't know who hired you? What an amateur," Zarek laughs, "Check who's your target and double-check who's your client, that's Hitman 101. Even a half-witted mercenary would know that."
Research and preparation are fundamental skills any hired killer needs to survive. As an assassin himself, Zarek knew this all too well in his mind.
"Come on, an anonymous client? Accepting a job without asking questions? You're not really expecting me to believe this, are you? Only a suicidal idiot would take a job like this." Zarek pressed on, not buying any of her stories.
Zarek sneered at her, "Your story and who you claim to be didn't add up. So either you're lying to me, or you really are just a dumb amateur."
Solentz scowled, her eyes burning with anger. "I was desperate and made a mistake, OK? I need the credits, badly. The pay was good, too good, now I think about it. But that doesn't make me an amateur."
"Really? Then regale me with the details of your operation." Zarek said, his words sounding harsh and authoritative through the voice modulator. "Tell me, how did you kill our spy? What was your chosen form of murder?"
"That's the thing! I didn't kill him," Solentz said, "They caught me before I could pull it off."
"So you didn't even finish the job?! Oh, you're worse than an amateur," Zarek taunted, shaking his head in disbelief. "No wonder you ended up here."
Solentz's face reddened with anger, but she remained silent, realizing that she had no defense against Zarek's mockery.
"The point is, she doesn't deny the charge." Knash interjected, looking to Zarek for a decision, "So, now you must decide-execution or trial by combat. Which do you choose?"
Zarek took a moment to consider his options. On one hand, he could see the braveness in Solentz's actions, she shows no fear in the face of death, and part of him felt a strange kinship with her as a fellow assassin. On the other hand, reviewing the risks and rewards before taking any job is the basis for every hired gun; also, she had been caught and even failed to fulfill her contract, which reflected poorly on her skills and judgment.
Still, there's potential within her... In Zarek's mind, he thought.
"Neither actually," Zarek said finally, his voice cold and detached. "I'll give her a chance. She can prove her worth by serving the Empire. Send her to Imperial Intelligence."
Zarek turns his head to Solentz, "Congratulation, we're going to make a real assassin out of you."
Solentz's eyes widened in surprise, but she nodded in acceptance of her fate. "Just so you know, I won't work for free."
"Have you ever seen a poor Imperial Assassin?" Zarek laughs, his sarcasm got the better of him. "The salary in the Sith Empire is quite impressive, and the employee benefits are the best in the galaxy. We even offer Healthcare and dental insurance."
Solentz couldn't help but smirk at Zarek's remark. "Fine, I'll take your offer. Better than rotting in this cell."
Knash raised an eyebrow at Zarek's decision, "Hrmph. You spared her, interesting. Didn't see that coming." he grunted, then motioned towards the second prisoner, a bald man with cybernetic implants around his right cheek.
"Please, I'm a fellow Sith." The prisoner in the second cage said, " Judge me with an open mind as you did the previous prisoner. Grant me a trial by combat, I beg you."
Zarek chuckled, "Oh, you want to fight? You don't actually think you can beat me, do you?" his voice was twisted by his mask but still dripping with confidence.
"This pile of waste is Devotek. Once a valued Sith champion," Knash said as he gestured to the second prisoner. "Until he botched an important mission and caused a thousand Imperial deaths. Now look at him, pathetic. Sicken me to hear his constant begging."
"I served faithfully for twenty-four years, then one mistake and they threw me away." Devotek continued, "Now, I have been left here to rot. Please, let me feel the weight of a weapon once more."
As Devotek defended himself, Zarek's expression turned murderous beneath his mask. If looks could kill, Devotek would surely suffer the most agonizing death imaginable.
The man's words infuriated Zarek because Zarek's father, Tarik Shand, was a proud Imperial soldier who serve the Empire with all his heart. Tarik was also a former Mandalorian, and he had always taught Zarek the Mandalorian values such as honor, courage, and loyalty.
To hear Devotek so casually dismiss the lives of a thousand Imperial soldiers as a mere "mistake" was appalling. A true warrior would have had the decency to die on the field alongside his comrades.
"You call the deaths of a thousand Imperials a mistake?" Zarek hissed through gritted teeth, barely containing his anger. "You abandoned your men and now even dare to beg for a chance to redeem yourself? You're a disgrace."
Devotek's face turned pale, sensing the wrath simmering within Zarek. "I... I just want a chance to reclaim my honor."
"You had no honor. Feel the weight of a weapon in your throat!" Before Devotek can reply, Zarek uses the Force to choke him. The prisoner fell down to his knees as Zarek drew his weapon and thrust the blade tip through the throat of the disgraced warrior.
Withdrawing the bloody warblade, Zarek turned around as Jailer Knash opened his mouth, "Good. I won't have to look at his sad, weathered face anymore. Thank you."
"Don't mention it," Zarek said, shaking off the blood from the warblade. "He was weak and pitiful, no longer worthy to bear the title of Sith."
Knash nodded in agreement. "Indeed. The Sith have no room for those who cannot carry the weight of their failures. It is survival of the fittest in our ranks, and he had proven himself unworthy."
Zarek stared at the lifeless body of Devotek for a moment, his mind lingering on the stark contrast between the man he had just slain and the values his father had instilled in him. He knew that the path of the Sith was brutal and unforgiving, but the idea of abandoning one's comrades was something he couldn't fathom.
The prisoner in the last cell was a Neimoidian, clad in tattered clothes and sporting a broken, fearful expression. He was huddled in the corner of his cell, clearly terrified of meeting the same fate as Devotek.
"Hrmph. Well, this last prisoner is a bit of a puzzle." Knash said, pointing to the Neimoidian prisoner. "He's called Brehg, and he's a jittery little wretch, suspected of supplying forged documents to Republic agents. Strangely enough, he maintains his innocence despite being severely tortured."
As soon as Knash finished speaking, the Brehg quickly jumped up and replied in his own language "That's because innocent I am! Believe me, you gotta-I had nothing to do with forging no papers. Set up, I was set up!"
"Are you trying to tell me you've led a clean life?" Zarek asked skeptically, his voice cold and unyielding.
Brehg shook his head, "Well, that I never said." His eyes darted back and forth, the fear in his gaze ever-present. "Many things I've done in my life that I'm not proud of, but Brehg's not gonna confess to something Brehg didn't do."
The Neimoidian took a deep breath, desperation seeping into his voice. "Did some time, I did, in a Republic jail for forgery, so I was the perfect candidate to implicate in this. But straight I've been since getting out, I swear!"
Zarek frowned, considering the possibility of Brehg's innocence. He glanced at Knash, who grunted in response. "Hrmph. He's never wavered from that line, and the evidence is circumstantial. I suppose it's actually possible he didn't do it. So, what do you decide?"
Zarek turned his gaze back to Brehg, "Your ramblings are falling on deaf ears. Confess and the torture will stop."
The Neimoidian stammered, "P-Please, innocent I really a-am, I was set up b-by others."
"Come on, who would go to all the trouble of setting you up?" Zarek glared at Brehg and demanded an answer, his patience wearing thin.
Brehg's eyes widened in panic, his face contorted with fear, "No idea. Absolutely none."
Zarek's eyes narrowed as he continued, "Don't lie to me! How many people know about your past in Republic jail? Who knows you were a forger?" His voice rose with each question and grew more menacing by the modulator in the mask.
The Neimoidian pleaded, struggling to find the words, "Don't know, I'm just a scapegoat!"
Zarek glared at Brehg, sensing that Neimoidian was holding something back. "You're lying. You know who's really behind the forged documents. I bet they threatened to kill you if you talk, am I right?"
Brehg's voice trembled, "N-No! I know nothing about the documents, please."
As Zarek's frustration grew, he tapped into the dark side of the Force and began to choke Brehg's throat. The Neimoidian gasped for air, struggling to speak. "Can't...breathe...I..."
"Give, me, a, name!" Zarek snarled as he tightened his Force grip on Brehg's throat, waiting for the Neimoidian to crack under the pressure.
Brehg's eyes watered, and his voice trembled as he finally cave in, "S-Solak! A Rodian in the criminal underworld! He k-knew about my past and threatened to k-kill me if I t-talk!"
Zarek released his grip on Brehg's throat, allowing him to take deep, ragged breaths. "You better not be lying, Brehg. For your own sake," Zarek warned.
"I-I swear, it's the truth!" Brehg gasped, clutching at his throat. Fear still radiating from his every word.
Knash looked at Zarek and said, "So, turns out he's innocent, now what?"
Zarek's voice remained cold and unyielding. "I don't care if he's innocent or not. A document forger is well connected with other criminals. Keep torturing the Neimoidian, he might give us more names."
Brehg's eyes widened with fear, and he cried out, "Please, no, not fair, it's just not fair!"
Knash sneered at Brehg and barked, "Shut up, you fidgety fool. The decision's been made."
"Hrmph. Well, that's that." The jailer grunted and turned his attention back to Zarek. "You're an interesting one, kid. I can see why people are keeping tabs on you. Head back to Overseer Tremel, and see what he thinks of your choices."
Zarek nodded, his eyes still cold and distant. He couldn't afford to be soft in a world that demanded ruthlessness. It was survival of the fittest, and only the strong would rise in the Sith Empire.
Zarek's gaze met Vette's as he passed her cell, and for a brief moment, their eyes locked. Vette sensed a flicker of curiosity within him, but she knew better than to assume that a Sith would have any sympathy for her plight. Still, she couldn't help but feel a connection to this stranger.
"Hey, you there!" Vette called out to Zarek as he continued down the corridor. "You're the new Sith guy, right? You look like you've got a little more going on upstairs than these other thugs."
Zarek paused for a moment, considering whether to engage with the imprisoned Twi'lek. He knew that he had more pressing tasks at hand, but there was something about her spirit and tenacity that intrigued him.
"You're quite brave to taunt your jailer like that," Zarek said, his voice sounding cold and guarded through the mask. "What brings a Twi'lek like you to a place like this?"
Vette sighed, realizing that she didn't have much to lose by sharing her story. "I'm a treasure hunter. I came to Korriban looking for artifacts and valuables to sell, but I got caught. Apparently, treasure hunting on a Sith homeworld is frowned upon. Who knew?"
Zarek chuckled despite himself. "You've got guts, I'll give you that. Most people wouldn't dare to come here, let alone make jokes while in captivity."
Vette smirked, her confidence returning. "Well, I figure if I'm going to be stuck here, I might as well have a little fun, right?"
Zarek nodded, finding himself intrigued by the Twi'lek's spirit. "So what do you want?"
Vette flashed a mischievous grin. "Well, I was thinking that maybe you could help a poor, innocent Twi'lek out of this predicament. I mean, I've got valuable skills, and I'd be more than happy to put them to good use for someone like you."
Zarek raised an eyebrow at her proposal. "I have no reason to trust you, let alone help you."
Vette sighed, knowing that it was a long shot. "Yeah, I figured you'd say something like that. But hey, if you ever change your mind, I'll be here, locked up and waiting."
As Zarek left the prison, Vette couldn't shake the feeling that their paths would cross again. She knew that it was a dangerous game to play with a Sith, but she couldn't help but feel that this young acolyte might just be her ticket out of the Sith Academy's prison.