The Spicer's Folly had not changed, even when the garrison
started rapidly increasing in size about a year ago. It was still a
seedy hotspot. What ever you wanted, they had, so long as it was
either immoral or illegal. They did not use service droids, mostly
because a service droid had a hard time acting as a pimp and lying
about it to local authorities, or to Imperial officers who wanted to
know why their storm troopers had come down with a rash of STDs. The
lighting was poor, the drinks that were supposed to be cold were
always warm, but it had it's own sort of charm despite it all. The
bartender remember his regular's would sometimes knock a bit of the
tab off, and the girls always remembered the regulars who tipped.
The surrounding neighborhood was just as seedy and rundown, the sort
of place that begged the question, did the cantina drag the
neighborhood down, or did the neighborhood get the cantina.
Inside the quality establishment, the man sat silently in a worn
plush chair with a severe frown upon his face. His hand was clutched
around a glass of Corellian ale, mostly finished and soon to
accompany the two empty glasses next to it. His eyes were fixed upon
a Twi'lek waitress serving patrons on the far end of the bar, though
at times they would rapidly glance around the cantina and survey the
other patrons. His dark red jacket was ruffled and slightly worn,
matching the red and black trousers he wore. His DH-17 blaster
pistol rested comfortably underneath the long jacket, the weapon set
to kill with the safety on. The man attempted to find some clarity
and peace within the bar, though it was rare that such was ever
Trooper Templeton Horner stood quietly in the back of The Spicer's Folly,
his eyes never seeming to leave the Imperial Intelligence officer as
he pretended to nurse his drink. The assignment of protecting these
bureaucrats in establishments such as this was towards the lower end
of the billet, usually reserved for new recruits. Unable to wear the
distinctive white armor he had trained to use, he was forced into
civilian attire that made him blend him into the surrounding
patrons, though he appeared a shade cleaner than most to the keen
eye ... or nose. His SE-14r light repeating blaster being the only
piece of technology brought with him.
Toward the back one feminine but obviously drunk voice grew
louder and louder. Obnoxious perhaps but only from a certain point
of view. To the woman, she was well within her rights but the tender
wasn't seeing it that way. Though the conversation was far from
violent, the female finally slumped off the barstool in order to
leave. It would take a moment or two for her to get the floor to
remain still. Finally sandaled feet to a few steps, bumping into
occupied chairs. She had to pause near the clean 'gentleman.' She
leaned for a moment, taking a few deep breaths. "They poison you
here, ya know." Eyes weren't on the man but she was speaking to.
Extremely light eyes glanced nervously through the think
transparent lenses that were strapped across his vision. The
magnification the lenses provided made his eyes seem huge and bug
like if one were to catch a glimpse at the right angle. It was just
another defect the poor kid had, but you had to see to be able to
shoot straight and shooting straight was just about the only thing
he was good at. Jace suspected the rest of the squad hated him but
they had good reason. He was young, had a stutter, was rather
annoying and to top it all off not that pleasant to look at. An oily
pale complexion along with acne and acne scars greeted every being
who was unlucky enough to glance his way. He would never know why he
was allowed into such a squad but was sure as hell not going to say
anything about it. He followed every order as best as he could
hoping commander Tong who Jace idolized would come to like him. His
current order which he didn't really understand was to stand on a
corner near some horrible building where disgusting beings and
sounds came from. Apparently he was suppose to be some sort of
illegal narcotics dealer but he doubted anyone would try to make a
purchase from someone who looked like he did. The DLT-20A rifle that
he preferred over any other weapon was wrapped up in some garbage
near his feet. The rifle was a bit to large to hide on his person so
he hid it nearby. A DL-18 pistol was resting tightly in a soldier
holster under his simple brown leather pilots jacket.
His eyes lazily turned towards Reilly, with half-listening ears
discerning yet another drunk patron of the bar. Swirling his drink
slowly, the jaded man considered the possibility of calling it an
early night. He doubted he would approach the Twi'lek waitress, and
he had little other reason to stay in the hellhole that his fellow
officers so detested.
Horner turned his attention towards the woman who came to a stop
in front of him, and sneered at her disdainfully. She smelled as if
she had not seen the inside of a sonic shower in days and seemed to
already be quite inebriated. "Miss," he began speaking in a
distinctly off-world accent, "As you are quite in fact alive ... by
most standards at least ... let me assure you that you have not in
fact been poisoned."
"Oh, I have." She leaned closer to the man and 'whispered' in his
ear. "That's how they get their dancers." A narrowed-eyed glance was
made toward what seemed to be the owner or manager of the bar before
the woman stumbled forward. Another few patrons would be bumped into
before she found herself belly down at the table of the Imperial
officer. Her gut hitting the table was all her stomach needed. Soon
there was a greenish-brown fluid flowing forcefully from her mouth
and toward the officer's body. Even if he managed to move fast
enough to not get puke on his attire, the puddle forming near his
shoes might prove disgusting.
His grayish eyes stopped their nervous darting to focus on the
entrances to the Cantina. He had already memorized what the Imperial
looked like so hopefully he would be easy to spot. It would be so
great if he were the one to spot this Imperial and take him down.
That would get the respect of the commander and with his respect the
others would start to like him more. His lips lifted into a smile
for a second or two allowing the dim lighting to gleam off the
metallic braces that covered his teeth. He reminded him self that he
was suppose to be on the lookout for a certain Imperial officer that
the Commander needed to 'talk' to. Pulling his thought away from
what he could do in order to make the Commander and the rest of the
squad like him Jace shifted his weight so he could lean against the
wall of the building and waited for something to happen.
Watching the woman fall in slow motion, the man realized there
was little he could do to avoid the damage. Rising quickly to save
his trousers, he frowned further as fluid and bile covered his
previously-polished boots. After staring briefly at Reilly and
debating the merits of harassing her, the man instead turned towards
the door and slowly began walking. A swift glance was cast at
Horner, and the officer straightened his jacket as moved.
Dagon was standing in the shadows of the alley near the exit. To
passerby, the way he was leaning against the wall, he'd either had
to much to drink or had caught something from a dancer. He wasn't
carrying the EE-3, just another drunk tough in a neighborhood full
of them. He could see who came and went though, in a position to
move on the pair when they came outside.
Trooper Horner moved forward, coming behind the fallen woman,
reaching for her hips with both of his strong hands. With a slight
grunt he attempted to push her off the table and onto the ground
below. Sneering at her, his eyes darted towards his charge, now
standing out quite conspicuously in the seedy establishment. His
hand moved down to rest upon his sidearm, concealed by the dark
brown duster that descended down towards his thighs. He kept several
paces behind the officer, in his mind already embellishing the story
he would tell the others at the garrison.
Reilly fell toward the ground with a grunt after the trooper's
attempt to 'assist' her. She was back on her feet as quickly as she
could, keeping her drunken cover in mind. After what seemed to be a
full tripping on a chair, she fell forward toward the
bodyguard/trooper, hoping to catch him off guard and knock him down,
or at least show down his ability to keep up with his charge. A bit
more fluid left her mouth as she neared the floor and/or trooper.
Wow the Commander was so good, even for Jace commander Tong
looked like he had to much to drink and Jace knew the truth. A small
sigh escaped his lips as his thoughts wondered for a moment. What
would it be like if he were good at so many things like the
commander was. He scolded him self mentally from letting his
thoughts and eyes wonder from the cantina. If Tong even suspected he
wasn't paying attention to his assignment there would be hell to
"Oof," Horner groaned audibly as the woman, feeling quite like a
sack of potatoes, collided with his unexpected backside. Falling
face force he extended his hands in front of him, as if he were
about to perform a pushup, and attempted to brace himself. There was
barely enough time and the maneuver was perform very awkwardly,
causing him to become quite bruised in the process.
Intentionally ignoring the ruckus behind him, the officer
continued on his stride towards the door. Debating his life
decisions on coming to places such as these, the man sighed as he
passed through the loudly hissing doors of the cantina. He paused as
soon as he was outside, waiting for his associate to rejoin him.
Placing his hands on his hips, the officer vocalized his thoughts
"Might be time for a new cantina."
Jace would hear a whisper filtering into his ear via the earpiece
tucked into it. "Be ready. Tangos are Oscar Mike." It was short,
clipped. The captain continued the drunken swaying, occasionally
gagging as he tried to hold back what had to have been gallons of
vomit. Must have been poisoned the same as the girl in the cantina,
while he waited for the officer to decide if he would take the same
route to his speeder, which would lead him past Dagon, and towards
Jace, or if he'd throw a curve ball into the works. One of the times
that a four man team really came in handy, but his other new recruit
had business else where.
Reilly laid on top of the Imperial trooper. Unfortunately for the
man, the 'poison' was not done with her. This round of vomit would
be spewed right at the man's head. "Gah...sorry." And more puke
ended whatever else she might have been saying. Fortunately for the
man, and for Reilly, she slipped the antidote under her tongue as
she wiped her mouth.
Hopefully the commander never noticed how often Jace gazed at
him. With that thought his eyes glanced automatically in the
direction of Commander Tong. Hopefully he was far enough away and
concealed in darkness for the commander to notice his admiring eyes.
Hiding a smile by chewing on his lower lip Jace caught the sound of
the cantina as the door opened. Tearing his gaze away from the
spectacular Dagon Tong he glanced toward the building. Trying not to
stiffen up like a board at the sight of the imperial Jace slid his
hand slowing into his jacket allowing his grip to slide around the
hidden DL-18. Getting the transmission from his boss he waited and
kept an eye on both figures waiting nervously for what would happen
Noticing that he was still quite alone at the entrance to the
cantina, the officer slowly rolled his eyes as he turned himself
around. Tapping a console to open the doors of the cantina once
again, he silently witnessed the humorously sickening scene of his
alleged bodyguard being assaulted by the drunkard of a woman. His
left hand moved from his hip to the inside of his jacket, resting
upon the butt of the blaster pistol. While he trusted that Horner
could handle himself against the woman, the officer was becoming
somewhat impatient at the affair. "Its cold outside, Horner."
Trooper Horner cringed visibly as he felt the feelings of the
moist chunks of the woman's vomit collide with the back of his head.
"You..." he snarled as he forced his more substantial weight from
out from under her. He had just about enough of her antics. He began
to stand, positioning himself between the officer and the woman.
Without looking at him, he waved his hand towards the Lieutenant,
instructing him to move on. He started back out of the door, the
pungent aroma of the woman's filth heralding his every step.
Well, she hoped that gave Tong enough time to act. She remained
laying as though passed out until the pair had left the cantina.
Frowning again, the officer turned away from the door of the
cantina. Glancing down at his boots, he noticed the vomit that
covered the bottom of the soles and the rest of the shoes. He
certainly was not getting in his speeder with that filth. Sighing to
himself, the officer turned towards the right and began a brisk walk
away from the establishment. He planned to walk a block around the
cantina and return for his bodyguard, hopefully scraping off the
bile from his boots as well.
"Jace, once the primary target as passed you, slip your side arm
into your hand, tell him that he wont be harmed if he cooperates.
He's Intel, he should know better than to try and fight his way
free. If that doesn't get the job done and he goes for his weapon,
stun him. I'll take care of the straggler. Make sure to wait until
he walks past you to touch your weapon. We don't want a fire fight."
He said softly, inaudible to anyone not on their com circuit. The
bodyguard should be coming shortly, and the officer's impatience was
a stroke of luck.
Hearing the commanders orders Jace flicked the DL-18 over to stun
and then slid his sweaty palms into his pockets away from the small
blaster that was concealed by his coat. He glanced upwards at the
approaching Imperial hoping that his appearance of a Young kid in
the wrong neighborhood would explain the pale sweaty look that the
man would no doubt notice as he passed by.
Horner remained in front of The Spicer's Folly, sliding the
vomit-covered duster onto the ground. There was no sense in having
that cleaned. The removal of the coat made his sidearm quite
apparent to anyone who might be watching. He could see that the
Lieutenant had gotten quite the distance away and he began to move
after him in a normal pace as to not attract any more attention then
they had already received.
The drunk tough in the alley gagged again as the trooper walked
past, finally pushing himself off the wall with an audible grunt. He
cursed, but did so with such a slur in his words that you couldn't
tell what language he was speaking, let alone what he'd said. Just
another drunk. He staggered on his way out of the alley, falling in
behind the trooper. He was singing some cantina song, but again, it
was so slurred you couldn't understand a word of it. Just another
drunk. Until the last second. What the trooper might have expected
as a bump as the drunk passed by turned into Tong's right hand
slamming around, his fingers together, turning his hand almost into
a blade as it came for the man's throat. And before the man would
have a chance to even deal with that problem, he'd hear the sound of
flesh and cloth tearing, as the vibroblade in Tong's left hand
stabbed up into the man's ribcage, aiming for the lung. Almost as
soon as it had made it all the way into the hilt, the captain
twisted, yanked it free, and struck against the man's back, aiming
for the major blood vessel just next to the spine. Again, the blade
was twisted as he pulled it free. If only one of the three blows
struck, it would still leave the hapless trooper dying silently on
the street, with no real clue as to what had happened to him.
Reilly stood, wiping off some of the gunk that was on her brown
pants. If they hadn't looked tattered before, the puke residue did
the trick. As she walked out of the cantina she was faced with the
excessive violence of her commander. There were more passive ways to
keep the guard at bay. But that was something to be discussed at a
later date. If at all. She stepped past the pair without
acknowledging either, turned left and headed toward the rendezvous
point; keeping her com live in case she was needed.
Horner let out a groan of pain as the Captain's hand connected
with his neck, but it was quickly stifled as the blade tore into his
chest. As his lung was pierced his ability to speak was cut off and
replaced with a painful, gasp of air that had nowhere to go. As
blood filled his lungs and poured from the wound in his chest he
dropped forward onto his knees, his complexion going visibly white.
The third penetration into the spine ended what was left of his
life, and almost silently he keeled over towards his right side and
lay a bloody mess on the moist, filth of the alleyway.
The officer continued his stride, one hand still on his hip and
the other on his holster. Somewhat lost in thought, his eyes turned
and lingered upon Jace. Probably an Imperial dropout, the officer
mused to himself. His calm evening was then disturbed by hearing a
groan not too far behind him. He began to turn halfheartedly,
expecting to see some street urchin having drunkenly stumbled
somewhere. Instead, his eyes registered the familiar form of Horner
falling rather painfully to the ground. Swearing under his breath,
the officer's hand quickly pulled his DH-17 out of the holster and
flicked off the safety. He spun and pressed his back against the
nearby wall, his eyes looking in the direction of the fallen
bodyguard. He was about five or so feet from Jace, his earlier
musings about the young man having quickly been forgotten.
The Imperial did not know it but his musing were right, Jace was
a former Imperial. Thankfully the training he did get from both the
Empire and the Rebellion did kick in. As the Imperial pulled his
weapon out Jace did the same with his own. The small DL-18 was
brought out of the shoulder rig the barrel swinging to point in the
direction of the imperial. Well so much for doing this the easy way
Jace thought. The only thing he was ever good at was shooting and
hoping the Imperial was distracted enough by the Commander and his
awesome killing skills Jace yanked back on the trigger of the small
blaster sending a small blue stun bolt in the direction of the
Imperials upper torso.
Trying to discern the figure that had brought down Horner, the
officer's attention was focused mostly away from Jace. His ears did
register a familiar sound of metal being rapidly moved, along with
the single click he was accustomed to hearing. Yet by the time his
mind made the connection and he began to turn his attention back
towards the younger man it was far too late. The stun bolt impacted
him in the chest, pushing him further against the wall before he
slumped forward into the street, hand still clutched around his
DH-17. His soiled boots would now be the least of his worries.
As Jace did exactly what he'd been told to, Dagon hauled the
corpse of the dead man into the alley, quickly stripped him of his
valuables. Blaster, holster, credits, the usual things a man would
loose in a robbery. To the locals, especially without ID on the man,
it would just another of the ten stabbings that would occur in the
neighborhood that night. A man who'd wandered into the bad side of
town, not to make it out. It would slow down Imperial response to
the deed. With the items in hand, he moved now across the street,
and got into the speeder. In short order, he'd backed the vehicle up
so that Jace could toss him in, they could collect their last team
member, and whisk the officer off to the safe house that they had
set up in the last few days while they were tracking this man. It
was a rundown, abandoned building, but it had a cargo port, allowed
them to move without too much attention, and when you closed the
door, no one saw what you unloaded from your speeder.
He stood there for a second or two his jaw falling open. He
actually did it...he knew he was a really good shot but nothing like
this happened to him before. Finally closing his jaw he slid his
small blaster back into his holster and got to work. Moving quickly
but not that steadily toward the downed Imperial, Jace scooped up
the imperials weapons and slid it into the belt at his waist. Taking
another deep breath he noticed The commander moving over with the
speeder. As the vehicle pulled up Jace slid his arms under the
Imperials arms and dragged him into the large speeder.
The officer was dragged into the speeder, his body offering no
resistance to being tossed around. After being thrown in the back he
silently remained captive, his stunned self not being able to do
With cargo aboard, Dagon pulled the vehicle around to the other
side of the Spicer's Folly to pick up their medic, while Jace
secured the Imperial with binders and stripped him of any useful
equipment. The speeder pulled along side Judah, and one of the doors
opened so that she could jump in as it slowed, and then they could
And jump she did. Once inside, she glanced at their captive and
then to Jace before frowning "Smells worse than the cantina in
here." She pulled a small box out of her right pants pocket. Inside
was a syringe filled with sedative H4b. It was a just in case thing.
'just in case' the Imperial awoke prior to their arrival at the safe
house. For now, it remained in the box which was placed back in her
The drive was not a long one, and once inside their secondary
safe house, with the cargo doors safely shut behind them, Dagon
unceremoniously tossed the officer over his shoulder and headed into
the basement. It was the best place to carry out an interrogation,
as it didn't have windows, and you couldn't hear much of anything
going on from the outside. The intelligence officer was then
stripped down to his underwear, and sat on a rather uncomfortable
slopped stool, where his hands and legs were secured behind him. The
room he'd find himself in was small, barren, the stereotypical
single light source that didn't work very well, and cast a shadow
into the corners. But the door was clearly heavy, and reinforced. A
no frills cell to be sure. Dagon left the man shackled, arms and
legs probably already aching from the awkward position, with the
door to the cell secured while he went upstairs for a cup of coffee,
a cigarra, and to let their captive wake up from the stun bolt.
And slowly rouse he did. A terrible headache was the first thing
he became aware of, followed shortly by his lack of clothing. Mild
discomfort was then sensed from his arms and legs being tied, and
finally his eyes began to focus on the room in front of him. An
intelligence officer as he was, the man quickly assessed his
situation. His captors were not simple scoundrels or thieves, and he
had clearly been targeted for the abduction. He closed his eyes
again, preparing himself for things to come.
Reilly headed right to the refresher. It was way past shower
time. She figured the men folk would not be as worried about their
smell as she was so taking the shower first seemed only right. As
the water poured over her head and down slim form her eyes closed.
The vision of the dead imperial flashed to mind causing her eyes to
open. She shook her head, finishing the cleansing ritual and
stepping out into the refresher, all clean. Only thing left was to
brush her teeth to rid most of the taste of vomit from her mouth.
With hot coffee in him, he took a moment to go through the
valuables that he'd collected. He fished the ID card out of the
man's wallet, and glanced at it. A trooper. So the Imperials were
using PPD as grunt work. He wondered how long that would persist. He
doubted it would for much longer. He took a long pull of the
cigarra, and then finished his cup of coffee. Time to go down
stairs, make the proper introductions. He headed back down the
basement, and with a moment of work to unlock the cell door, stepped
in to the room with the Imperial. He didn't lock the door behind
him, but as of now, it wasn't necessary. He let his face remain in
the shadows while he observed the man's face, trying to remember if
the man had been one of those that had been on Brentaal the last
time he had been. But he hadn't gotten to know the far reaching
intelligence division as well as he should have, so it didn't
surprise him that he did not exactly recognize the man. After a
moment, Tong spoke. "Name, Rank Serial number."
While he had performed his share of interrogations in the past,
he had never quite been on the other side of the table. He stared at
the figure in the shadows, of whom he currently knew very little.
Since being difficult would likely prevent him from gaining
information about his captors, the Imperial decided to cooperate for
the time being "Shayne Korvac, Lieutenant, five-four, two-five,
Hair still wet, Judah made her way from the make-shift med lab to
the interrogation area. On a table just outside to room she left a
dose of avabush. This drug would assist in getting the truth out of
the Imperial and save Tong from so much violence. She nearly laughed
at that thought. Tong not violent. And the Emperor has a pet Ewok.
Once in place she headed up to get herself some coffee, figuring
Tong had made a pot by now.
"Lieutenant Korvac. You might infer that you have been taken as a
prisoner of war, given the setting and the way in which you were
obtained." Tong stepped from the shadows now, so that the man could
see the three distinct scars that marked his face from a time in
which he had been the one on the stool. "But you are not. As of
right now, you are a corpse. If you co-operate, and do not force me
to commit further violence, and the information is good, then, you
will be afforded all the benefits of a POW. Do you understand?" He
took another long drag off his cigarra, and brought his cold, dead
gaze on the man.
His eyes flicked up and down the face of his captor. Memories
surfaced of seeing the man's image on intelligence reports, one of
the numerous former Imperials who had gone rogue for this reason or
that. While he did not know the man by name, he was aware that his
interrogator had likely been versed in Imperial
information-gathering techniques. There was no reason to resist yet,
so the officer only said one word "Yes."
"The information I seek is simple. I want to know about the units
that are stationed on Brentaal and the rest of the Ringali Shell. I
want to know about the ones the citizens do not. I want a full
briefing of the opsec in this sector. Nothing that really endangers
anyone. And will save you any difficult asking." One of the times
that being an Imperial had paid off, he would have had an
interrogation droid instead of a moral medic for the purposes of
injections and first aid. He would have vastly preferred the droid
at the moment.
The man listened intently, his gaze never leaving that of his
captor. When the man had finished speaking the officer raised his
own voice "With your Imperial background you should know that
information is compartmentalized. I know about classified additions
to our local garrison and various informants we have stationed
throughout this area, but the composition of fleets and regiments is
beyond my purview." A small smile appeared on the face of the man,
though he did question his own personal safety at the moment.
"Of course it is." Dagon inhaled deeply off the cigarra again,
his eyes not leaving the prisoner's. "Well, tell me what is within
your purview." Let the man wonder when the violence would come. Let
the anxiety build.
"I know of the suppression units we have deployed to the
garrison, the information we have on various rebels in this city and
the commando teams we have located off-site, ones that specialize in
search and rescue." No implying was necessary there, as the Imperial
was sure his captor could read through the lines. The officer was
reaching his limit on information he could share, however, and he
began mentally preparing himself for the oncoming escalation.
"Ah yes. The Search and Rescue teams. Well, perhaps I will ask
about the location of their safe houses in a bit. There is no real
rush. Your body guard was killed in a robbery. And he has no
identification on him. The local law enforcement will simply shrug
and add it to the number of dead and robbed in that neighborhood, it
will be days, perhaps a week before the garrison even hears of it.
In that time, you will be AWOL of course, the trail will run cold.
What do you think you can endure in the span of a week?" And with
that Dagon walked out, and the cell door was slammed shut behind
him, the sound of the locks reengaging unmistakable. A few moments
later, the light went out, and what could only be described as some
of the most obnoxious folk music ever to find its way onto a
recording began pumping in at a volume that would invade the very
thoughts of those forced to listen.
Somewhat startled by the new entertainment he had been provided,
the officer closed his eyes and began going through various mental
exercises to focus his mind and distance himself from the music.
While a typical officer's absence may have gone unnoticed, the man
was aware that his ISB counterparts would rapidly become aware of
his vanishing. While they watched Intelligence primarily to ensure
loyalty, this situation would prove possibly useful in their zeal of
keeping tabs on everyone within the Empire. The officer leaned back,
as much as he could within his bindings, and waited for whatever was
to come next.