I'm Not Dead Yet

[Raif]

Drip-drop...

Drip-drop...

Drip-drop...

The blood and sweat dripped from the man's brow, smacking against the cold metal floor of the ersatz cell that the man had been locked in for...how long now? A month...no, longer. Six months? A dozen? It was impossible to know for certain.

Drip-drop...

Drip-drop...

Drip-drop...

The prisoner continued his push-ups, desperately clinging to the physical exercise to keep from losing his mind to this dank captivity. The heavy industrial equipment which made up the walls and ceiling of his cage also dripped with condensation, so the captive thankfully had a near-constant rhythm with which he could keep pace during his exercise.

He was bloody and bruised, sporting a days-old laceration along his hairline that would need stitches (not to mention copious amounts of bacta) if it were to ever heal completely. Not that stitches, or basic medical supplies at all, were all that easy to come by.

He was, after all, a prisoner. He hadn't been kept in this cage for the entirety of his stay, of course. Oh no, it was during his infrequent travels out of his cell that he tended to earn new "beauty marks" like the one currently dripping blood down his sunken, malnourished face.

The scraping hiss of an old, poorly-maintained hatchway opening further down the hall alerted the captive to the rapidly approaching presence of one of his jailers. Early on during his stay, the man had been livid that he'd been forced to rely on his physical senses to know when others were approaching. After all, he was a man used to wielding the power of a god. The neural inhibitor affixed to his temples prevented his accessing the Force, though, and so he had adapted - as he always did.

Sliding quickly into the farthest, darkest corner of his cell, the man made every effort to appear docile to the being that was approaching. Others seeing him in this predicament would likely scoff at how quickly he had "given in," but those others were fools. There is a time for bravado, and there is a time for realism - and the captive knew that, were he to ever escape this Hutt-forsaken hell-hole, he would need all of his energy. Which meant that he would play the calm, cooperative prisoner whenever he could...all the while seething internally with impotent rage.

A small opening in his cell door retracted and a tray covered in barely-edible slop was tossed in. The voice of one of the friendlier guards came following after.

"Eat up, Zey. I managed to grab a bit extra for ya."

The man in the cage reached forward slowly, grabbing the tray of food and bringing it to his corner where he slowly and methodically began eating.

"Thank you..."

The prisoner whispered hoarsely, his voice having been screamed raw from the previous day's "session" with the man in charge of this place. The captive continued eating for a few moments after the feeding slot was closed and the noise of the guard faded down the hallway.

"...but I've already told you. My name isn't Zey..."

The captive gritted his teeth, the metal food tray gripped tightly between white-knuckled fists. Then, with a fury that would have been alarming given how sedentary he'd been just a moment before, the man snapped the tray in two and flung the pieces at the far wall. He screamed, knowing full well that no one could hear him.

"My name is Royston Spektor, and I'm going to kill you all!!"

 

[Raif]

Many months previously...​

Royston sat in the cockpit of the unremarkable Ubiqtorate shuttlecraft, his hand poised over the controls to the hyperdrive. He had been just about to make the jump to hyperspace and begin his newest mission, something to do with an Umbaran terrorist.

Or something.

The details of his mission leaked from his mind, though, as his eyes read the message flashing on the screen of his personal data pad. His personal, highly encrypted data pad that almost no one had access to.

i know who you really are...​

Fear. It stabbed at Roy's heart in a way that he hadn't felt since he was a child, struggling to survive in the gutters of the Galactic City. It wasn't just those words that had Roy shaken, though.

It was the scrolling list of names, businesses, and addresses that followed it. Dozens of the Spymaster's aliases and ventures were there. Royston's brain worked on a level that most sentient life in the galaxy couldn't even fathom, yet he say there for what seemed an eternity, unable to process exactly what he was reading.

Whomever had sent this message knew...well, not everything about Roy. The fact that the words "Darth Tarak" weren't included in the list was a slight relief. Even still, if the sender knew this much...it was obvious they knew the one secret that Royston guarded more closely than any other.

They knew he was a changeling.

Gritting his teeth, Roy read the last line of the message. It was an address on Ord Mantell. No name, no date, just a set of coordinates. Whoever sent it obviously wanted Roy to come. To walk right into a trap, more than likely.

But the Spymaster had no choice. He barely gave a second thought to the official mission he was abandoning, quickly reprogramming the hyperdrive to take him to this rendezvous. As the pin points of light through the cockpit viewport expanded into the whirling tunnel of light signifying his entrance into hyperspace, Roy couldn't help but chuckle a bit.

The person on the other end of this message was in for a very rough day when Roy got to Ord Mantell. He was not a man who took threats lightly, even if they were implied threats like this one. Whoever he was meeting was going to rue the day they decided to involve themselves with a Sith Lord.

Who knows, maybe he'd get this annoyance taken care of and be able to finish up the Umbaran business before Geist even noticed he was gone.

 

[Raif]

The landing on Ord Mantell was uneventful, yet Roy felt increasingly tense as he disembarked his ship. Something about this just felt...off.

He wasn't really worried, of course. He was a Sith Lord. One of the most powerful Force users in the galaxy. He'd been shot, stabbed, blown up, imprisoned, and worse over the years, yet always come out on top. Some two-bit hacker with too much time on their hands wasn't going to faze him for long. Especially once he'd had a "heart to heart" with the mysterious being on the other end of the cryptic message.

Walking briskly down the ramp of his ship and onto the tarmac of the spaceport, Roy realized he didn't exactly know who he was looking for. He'd been given coordinates, which he'd followed, but beyond pointing him to this spaceport there wasn't much...

Thankfully, the Spymaster didn't have to think for long. A protocol droid came waddling towards him, sporting the black and silver livery of the spaceport.

"Good day, gentle being. Welcome to Ord Mantell. I am G-4T6, and I will assist in the docking and registration process. If you would be so kind as to produce identification, we can get started."

Roy grinned at the droid, reaching into his coat pocket to grab one of his many sets of false identification papers.

"Of course, here you are. Now, this is going to sound a bit strange, but--"

PFFT

Roy blinked twice in confusion, his mind suddenly bogged down and unable to process what he was seeing. A panel had opened in the middle of the protocol droid's "chin," and from this panel had flown something too quick to see.

A dull ache in the side of his neck interrupted Roy's train of thought for a moment, and he drunkenly reached up to feel some sort of...dart, sticking from the side of his throat. Oh yeah, that's what had shot out of the droid.

Roy blinked again, now staring up at the droid. Why was the droid up there? And who were those two big bruisers standing next to it?

"Wait, am I on the ground?"

Roy could feel himself slipping slowly out of consciousness, yet his mind still hadn't registered the danger of his current situation.

"Did Nerb put you up to this? That clever old bastard..."

He didn't wait for them to respond. Of course it was the butler. He had a unique sense of humor, that one. Roy would have to think of something suitably clever in response.

For now, though, he was tired. Maybe after a nap he'd be able to think of something.

Yeah, sleep sounded like a great idea...

 

[Raif]

"Wake up, pretty boy!"

SLAP!

Roy didn't know if it was the person yelling in his face or the back-hand slap that woke him from his drugged stupor. In the long run, it didn't really matter. Shaking his head to try and dislodge some of the cobwebs, the Spymaster ignored his newly-split lip and did a quick mental tally of his current situation.

Roy was pretty much screwed. Yeah, that about summed it up.

He was pretty sure he was underground, kneeling in the dirt of what appeared to be some sort of industrial amphitheater or coliseum. He was wearing a neural inhibitor - oh joy, this isn't even the first time! - and was flanked on either side by two very large and very smelly humanoids whose combined IQ was probably smaller than Roy's inseam.

And standing in front of Roy on a raised dias, looking very pleased with himself, was the man who had yelled at Royston just before one of the goons had slapped him.

"He wakes! Boys, get a good look, our little fancy-pants here's decided to join the party!"

Though Roy couldn't really turn his head and get a good look, he could tell by the guffaws that greeted the Leader's little announcement that there were a lot more goons around him than he first thought.

"I'll tell you what, Zey, you sure ain't easy to track down. Not that I'd expect anything else, of course."

The Leader jumped nimbly down from his platform, coming closer to the captive Spektor as he continued speaking.

"But here you are, after all these years. I have to admit, Zey, I never thought I'd see you again..."

SLAP!

This time the Leader himself hit him, hard, with a hand covered in several gaudy, oversized rings. At least one of which now was encrusted with a hunk of Roy's hair, skin, and blood.

"You have no idea how badly I've wanted to do that, little man."

Royston clenched his teeth, bloody spittle dribbling down his chin as he was forced to continue kneeling and taking the abuse. He stared defiantly up at his captor for a moment, wishing he could get his hands free for just one second. That's all it would take.

Taking a deep breath, Roy realized that his abuser seemed to be waiting for some sort of response. Trying to pick his words carefully for once, Roy tongued at a loose tooth for a moment before speaking.

"Look, I have no idea what you're talking about..."

SLAP!

"Don't you dare lie to me Zey, you little Hutt-sucking piece of shit! After everything I did for you, everything that happened to me, don't you dare lie!"

Roy was totally taken aback by the hatred and rancor in the man's eyes. Whatever was going on here, Roy had the very distinct feeling that his fate was balanced precariously on a knife's edge. But all he had was the truth. His truth, at least.

"I'm not lying! Who the kriff is Zey? And who are you?! What do you want with me??"

Roy's desperate confusion must have finally registered with the abusive man, for he suddenly took a step back and stared at his captive, as if trying to get a better look at him. It lasted only a moment, though, before he began laughing again. As if on cue, the surrounding thugs and hangers-on began laughing as well.

"Who am I? Kriff me, you really don't know, do you? Oh man, ain't this just a sack o' Sith shit. You can call me Kato, boy -"

The Leader, Kato, stepped forward again suddenly, grabbing Roy's hair and wrenching his head back painfully so he couldn't look away. Kato then grinned broadly, showing off a mouth almost completely full of gold and silver teeth.

"- and I'm your big bro! What's wrong..."

As Kato spoke, his skin began to ripple and shift, shrinking tight over his bones and darkening to a brown so deep it was almost black. Sharp canine teeth poked out of a horizontal gash of a mouth set beneath two dark, mean-looking eyes.

"Can't you see the family resemblance?"

He skin was darker, and his cheeks were a bit wider, but otherwise the Clawdite face staring at Royston was almost identical to the same one he'd stared at in the mirror every day of his life.

And Royston Spektor, known by some as Darth Tarak, one of the most powerful men in the galaxy, fainted. As the blackness overtook his vision all he could hear was Kato's harsh laughter, and all he could see was that face.

His brother's face.

 

[Raif]

CRACK

"Aaaarrggghhhhh!!"

The scream was ripped from Royston Spektor's throat as the searing pain across his back brought him back to full consciousness in a split second.

"Wakey wakey, sleepy head."

Kato. He was back in his human form, standing a few feet in front of Roy. Flanking the other Clawdite were two Draz, the silver-grey canine beasts slathering at the mouth and pulling tightly at their restraints. The animals showed obvious signs of abuse, and it was hard to tell whether they were straining to get lose and attack him, or their supposed owner, Kato.

Speaking of Kato, the Spymaster lurched toward the man, absolute murder in his eyes, but he was quickly jerked back into place by the shackles binding his wrists. So rather than rip the man to pieces with his bare hands, Roy could only strain against his bonds, panting like a wounded animal as he scanned his surroundings with wide, bloodshot eyes.

He was still in the Coliseum, although this time it appeared to be more or less empty. Roy was bound by chains to some sort of harness dangling from the ceiling. It took only the briefest of upward glances to realize that even with his strength, which was nothing to scoff at, he'd never rip free. And with a neural inhibitor firmly in place, the reality of his predicament sank in.

He was trapped.

The fury returned, and had he been able to access the Force he would have level half the planet in his rage. Instead he could only rage at his captor.

"I'll frikking immolate you, you kriffing bastard! I'll break every bone in your fuc --"

CRACK

The pain came again, a lance of hot, searing hell that stretched from his shoulders to his lower back. He realized then that he was shirtless, not that it would have mattered much. Roy was proud that he didn't scream this time, though that wasn't for lack of desire to do just that. He just refused to give this sadistic bastard standing in front of him the pleasure.

"Now, now, little brother, that's no way to speak to your host. And in case you haven't figured it out, that's an interrogation droid with a vitro-whip behind you, and trust me when I say that it's had anything even remotely close to a safety protocol burned from its processor. It will flay the flesh from your skeleton if I give the word...so don't push me."

Roy gritted his teeth and waited. He had plenty he'd love to say to this man claiming to be his brother, but he really didn't want to add to the blood that he could feel flowing down his back like rainwater. Besides, he'd spent enough time around megalomaniacal psychos over the last few decades to know when someone liked hearing themselves talk. So Roy would humor this Kato, at least for the time.

The man who claimed to be Royston's elder brother chewed nonchalantly on an animal bone of some kind, letting his captive stew for a moment as he ripped the last bits of flesh from the bone. He then tossed the leftovers to the two canines behind him, who immediately began tearing at each other to seize they morsel. For some reason, this casual attitude of neglect toward the animals angered Roy almost as much as anything else that had happened over the last however many hours.

"So, brother dear, I'm sure you've got plenty of questions, am I right?"

Roy just looked at Kato, refusing to speak unless he absolutely had to.

"I said..."

CRACK

"Am I right?"

This time, Roy couldn't help but let out a guttural noise of pain and discomfort. At this rate his back would look like raw, ground bantha meat within a half hour. Catching his breath, Roy quickly spit a bit of blood from his mouth - he'd bitten his tongue on that last whipping - and then nodded.

"Yes. Why...why are you doing this? I told you...I don't know who you are or what --"

CRACK

"Aaaarrggghhhhh!!"

"Sorry. You were boring me."

Kat began casually pacing back and forth, his two canines still fighting over scraps behind him.

"Why am I doing this, you ask? Well, Zey, let me tell you..."

Roy's captor paused for a minute, looking at his hounds for a moment. The scrap of food had been forgotten for the time being and the two beasts were instead focusing on each other. With a flick of his wrist, a collapsible baton appeared in Kato's hand, and he laid into the beasts, beating them severely until they were both cowed and licking their wounds.

Nodding in satisfaction, the elder Clawdite/human stowed his baton and then returned his focus to Roy.

"It's simple, actually. Payback. You owe me...well, everything you have, really. And I've waited a very long time to collect."

Kato paused, glancing over Roy's shoulder, presumably toward the interrogation droid.

"No, wait, I --"

CRACK

"What the frikk! I didn't even do anything that time!!"

Kat narrowed his eyes at his brother, letting the younger Clawdite yell and curse. He then stepped forward, leaning in close and placing his mouth right next to Royston's ear.

"You need to understand something, brother. Your life is in my hands, and I will do with it whatever I wish."

A blur of motion, and suddenly there was a small stiletto-style blade in Kato's hand. Just as quickly, the blade was buried up to the hilt in Roy's forearm.

Roy's head jerked violently, trying with all his might to rip Kato's throat out with his teeth if he could. The pain in his arm was blending with the pain in his back to create an almost euphoric feeling, and in that moment Roy wanted nothing more than to feel the man's lifeblood seeping between his teeth.

But Kato was too quick, and he stepped quickly out of his captive's reach. He had a slightly bemused expression on his face as he addressed his brother.

"Well look at you; my baby bro's turned into quite the fighter it seems. Don't worry, we'll break you of that soon enough. But back to the topic at hand..."

The Clawdite captor turned and continued pacing, seeming for all the world as if he was delivering a speech that he'd been rehearsing for years. Perhaps, from the sound of things, he had.

"I'm going to assume, Zey, that since you have no recollection of me that you also have no recollection of our parents. Don't bother answering. So, we'll start with them..."

Roy hated to admit it, but despite all of his rage and the pain he was feeling at that moment...he was absolutely hanging on Kato's every word. The fact that he could remember everything that had ever happened to him except who and where he came from had bothered him immensely for years. Maybe he was going to finally get some answers.

"...they were anarchists. Little more than common criminals, if I'm being completely honest. But they were good parents, nonetheless. That is, until they were murdered."

Kato turned his head, staring Roy right in the eye.

"Killed by those damned do-gooder Forcers. And you grew up to be a Forcer yourself...pathetic."

The other man almost spat the word, his hatred for those who could wield the power of the Force evident in his every word and movement.

"They raided our apartment, the Jedi and a team of Security Officers. Mother and Father were cut down in seconds. I managed to get you into the garbage chute, lacking any other alternative, before those bastards grabbed me."

Kato paused, the skin around his face seeming to darken for a moment as he relived the memories that he was sharing with Royston.

"I spent more than ten years in a detention center because of you. If I hadn't been worried about saving my baby brother I could have gotten away myself. But no, I saved your stinking, miserable life...and in return, I got to spend the next decade of my life biting the pillow for any muscled freak that decided they thought I was pretty."

A silent moment stretched into several silent minutes, the only noise coming from the ever-present hum of nearby industrial equipment and the whimpering of the two Draz.

"When I finally got out, I decided that it was only right that you make amends for every scar I got in that Hutt-forsaken hellhole - both mental and physical."

Kato grinned now, though it was not an expression one would wish to see often. It carried far more malice than mirth.

"Of course, you weren't exactly easy to track down, were you Zey? Oh no, you were a smart one. Finding a changeling like us when they don't want to be found is damned-near impossible, but a Forcer changeling? Pssh, if I had a credit for every time I wanted to give up, well, I'd be wealthier than you!"

The demented Clawdite laughed at this point, a deep belly laugh that made Roy's skin crawl. The more the man talked, the more worried Royston became. He was not dealing with a mentally stable individual - that much, at least, was very clear to the Spymaster.

"Speaking of wealth, we come back to the whole focus of our little meeting today, don't we? I want every dirty, stinking credit that you own, brother-of-mine. Consider it a repayment for saving your life."

There was no longer any hint of a smile or laugh on Kato's face. He stared at Royston, his features like stone, waiting to see what his brother's response would be.

Of course, Roy being Roy, he couldn't help but grin slightly, even scoffing quietly as he shook his head in seeming amazement.

"That's...quite a tale. Whether I believe any of it, though...well, that's not really important. What I can tell you, though, is this:

If you think I'm going to give you anything other than a very painful death, well, you're even crazier than you look!"

Kato began laughing even before Roy had finished speaking, prompting Roy to begin laughing as well. It was a weird moment, the two brothers laughing together. If it weren't for the chains and the torture droid, a bystander could have been forgiven for thinking they'd just stumbled into some odd bonding moment.

It was, of course, short lived. Kato stared at Roy, a dangerous twinkle in his eye, before speaking very softly.

"I was really, really hoping you'd say that."

CRACK

"Aaaarrggghhhhh!!"

CRACK

"Aaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrggghhhhhhhhhhhh!!"

CRACK

Once again, Royston Spektor lost consciousness, though this time it was more from the pain than the shock. His last coherent thought before passing out would have been funny if it hadn't been for the circumstances he found himself in:

If Varek or Apollo saw me crying like this I'd never hear the end of it...

 

[Raif]

Roy continued to have "meetings" with Kato like the one described above on a pretty regular basis. It became increasingly clear that the older Clawdite hadn't expected his brother to resist the torture, however - Roy took no small pride in the fact that he wasn't easy to break.

He was an Ordo, after all, and it would take a hell of a lot more than a bit of pain to make him start handing over account passwords and routing numbers.

Kato wasn't giving up either, of course, and he quickly proved to be just as sadistic and psychotic as Roy had initially surmised. What had started with simple whipping had quickly progressed to a wide variety of torturous activities: electro-shock, water-boarding, acid burns, heat burns, sensory deprivation, sensory overload...

It was like Roy was living through the Ubiqtorate interrogation handbook as interpreted by a rabid Shistavanen. As the torture continued for weeks and months, Roy began seriously wondering if this was all some sort of cosmic payback. After all, he'd personally interrogated quite a few individuals in his day, and had ordered the torture and interrogation of countless more beings on top of that.

Perhaps he was finally reaping what he had sewn.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

Back in his damp, dark cell, Royston sat in silence. He couldn't enter a full healing trance, but that wasn't his intention. No, he was doing something far more important than simply mending his wounds.

He was plotting. And there were very few beings in the galaxy as dangerous as Royston Spektor when he was given the time - and in this case, the motivation - to plot.

A noise outside his hall pulled him from his reverie, and Roy quickly surmised from the pace and gait of the approaching guard that it was Tanner - perhaps the only thug in this entire subterranean compound that wasn't a completely worthless waste of life. Tanner, in fact, had a spark of humanity inside him, and Roy had been making very subtle efforts to befriend the man during his captivity.

Now, it was time to see if his efforts would pay off.

As the food-slot opened in his cell door and the tray of slop was pushed through, Roy moved slowly forward from his dark corner. He kept his hands open and at his sides, not wanting to give the man any reason to be jumpy.

"Tanner? Tanner, is that you?"

Roy couldn't see his "friend" on the other side of the cell door, but he could tell by the moment of silence that greeted his hoarse whisper that Tanner had heard him and was trying to figure out how to respond. He wasn't the fastest swoop on the track, that was for sure, but in this case that actually served Royston's needs perfectly.

"Uhh...Zey, you know I'm not supposed to talk to you. I just gotta drop off your meals. Kato said that's it."

Roy almost had him. He allowed himself the briefest moment of hope, though he kept his features suitably downcast and desperate-looking.

"I know, Tanner, I know...I don't want you to get in trouble. I was just hoping..."

Royston paused, holding his breath...

"Yeah? What?"

Yes! For a split second Roy felt almost guilty for what would happen to Tanner if - or, more likely when - Kato found out about this little exchange.

Am I getting soft? What the hell...

"I was just thinking, Tanner...well, I've been here a while after all. Maybe...if you think it would be ok..."

Roy paused again, not wanting to throw too much at his dim-witted accomplice too soon.

"If what would be ok, Zey? Hurry up."

"You know, people are probably looking for me...maybe I could just send a quick message."

Roy heard the sharp intake of breath from the other side of the cell door and knew he was at the critical moment. He could lose it all if he didn't do and say the exactly perfect things.

"Just to my butler, that's all! You can read and edit what I wrote, so it's not like I'll be calling for help. Just making up...I don't know, some bull shit about needing to get away from it all. What do you think...Tanner?"

The silence was deafening, and Roy began to sweat. Had he pushed too hard, too fast?

"I'll see what I can do. No promises, though...and keep this to yourself, Zey."

The guard quickly left the cell, and Roy slowly slid down the wall of his cell, collapsing in a heap on the ground. He blinked his eyes rapidly, having a hard time seeing his surroundings. He reached a tentative hand up to his face, expecting to see blood from one of his many wounds.

Instead, what he saw was tears. Royston Spektor was crying with joy and hope.

The die had been cast. He was going to get out of here. It was going to happen.

 

[Raif]

"Just give me the frikking access codes, you stubborn fool!"

Roy was strapped down to the floor of the Coliseum, Kato leaning over him with a plasma torch in hand. The elder Clawdite was holding the scorching-hot cutting tool perilously close to a part of Roy's anatomy that was very important to the Spymaster, yet Spektor was just cackling like an idiot. In the background, Kato's two Draz twitched their ears and cocked their heads at the strange noises they were hearing.

Kato finally got frustrated, throwing the torch into a car corner and venting his spleen on Roy's face with his fists. After about a dozen punches the torturer grew winded, though, and backed up.

Roy shook his head in a weak attempt to shake the blood from his eyes, then stared over at his brother. A smarter man would probably keep his mouth shut in a situation like this, but that wasn't really Roy's style. Besides, he was likely suffering from a mild concussion at the least, he was malnourished and sleep deprived, and he just couldn't be bothered to have anything resembling restraint at a time like this.

"You know, brother..."

The sarcasm just dripped from his voice as he said the word.

"...I just don't get it. It's taken you years, not to mention a small fortune of your own, to find me...and it's just about money? Hah!"

Roy laughed, but it was more like a hacking cough given his current predicament. Kato, meanwhile, just continued to breath heavily while glaring at his captive. Who wasn't done talking, of course.

"All of this time, all of this effort, and you're just a thief! It's pretty pathetic, honestly."

Kato moved like a blur, burying his toe in the exposed flank of the captive Spymaster. Roy sucked in his breath, confident that he'd just suffered at least two broken ribs. Or were those ribs already broken? It was hard to tell, at this point.

"Shut up! You piece of Hutt slime, just shut the kriff up! Don't you dare act like you're better than me."

Kato kicked again, and Roy cried out in pain...again.

"I'm the thief? What about you, pretty boy?! All your brains, all your stupid Forcer powers, and what have you done with it? The galaxy's burning down around us, in case you hadn't noticed, but you couldn't care less, could you? No, as long as you've got your nice clothes and your fat bank account."

Kato spit, his phlegm smacking into Roy's cheek and mixing with the blood and sweat that caked his features.

"Don't talk to me about pathetic, boy. I've been tracking you for years. What have you done with your life? Women, booze, credits, that's all you seem to care about. So why shouldn't I get a cut, eh?"

Roy had stopped listening. What Kato was saying...it was causing a moment of clarity for the Spymaster unlike any he'd ever had before. Maybe it was because of the months of captivity, the torture and anguish and desperation. Whatever it was, it was having a profound affect on Royston.

What have I done with my life?

That question echoed in his mind as he was carried back to his cell and dumped unceremoniously inside.

What have I done with my life?

Royston Spektor had done terrible things. He'd lied, cheated, and stolen...and that was just the minor stuff.

He'd personally killed dozens of beings. He'd ordered the killings of countless more. He'd faked an assassination attempt on a head of state to pull the entire Mandalorian people into the war on the side of the Imperium. How many of his brothers and sisters had been ground into bloody dust during the Core Campaign, because of him? He'd provided the intelligence that had led to the destruction of the Jedi temple on Arbra, and the scuttling of the Light of the Force.

He'd dedicated his life, and his heart, to a woman - if she could even still be called that - who had mutated before his eyes into a dark stain on the Force itself.

Everything he had, everything he was capable of...he'd wasted it.

In that moment, bloody and broken in a cell barely wide enough for him to lay down, Royston Spektor's whole life changed. The realization washed over him like a cool rain. He was one of the few beings in this galaxy with the ability to actually do something meaningful, and all this time he'd been ignoring it.

But not anymore.

Royston Spektor was a changed man. And he was going to change the galaxy.

 

[Raif]

Tanner was back...and he had a datapad. The big dumb idiot had come through for Royston, and the Spymaster genuinely felt regret that this entire episode would likely involve Tanner's death at some point.

Better him than me. I've got a galaxy to save...

The guard didn't even speak, just quickly opened the food slot and slid the datapad through. Roy tried to contain his enthusiasm as he picked it up off the the cell floor, maintaining his act of being the cowed and defeated prisoner.

Quickly powering the small device on, he couldn't help but smile. It wasn't even encrypted.

This is almost too easy.

Spektor quickly composed a message to his manservant Nerb, using an old, outdated Ubiqtorate cypher that he knew from first-hand experience was the standard back when Nerb was an active agent. The seemingly mild-mannered mute would immediately see the truth in the message.

Nerb--

I'm sorry for disappearing, but it all just got a little too heavy too quickly; I had to go underground for a bit. Let's be honest though, it's not like this is the first time. Remember Empress Teta?

Don't worry about me, I'll be back any day. I know I don't need to remind you, but make sure you're not over-watering the plants - especially the pink ones. You know they're my favorite.

Keep up the good work, Nerb. I'll see you soon, I'm sure of it.

R

Roy triple-checked his wording, confident that Nerb would not only understand what was being said but would also be able to back-track the message to this subterranean hell-hole.

The captive Clawdite then handed the datapad back through the food slot, mumbling effusive thanks to his "friend." Tanner took a quick moment to review what was written, chuckling a bit at the last line.

"'I'll see you soon, I'm sure of it.' I'll give you credit, Zey, for a dead-man-walking, you sure are optimistic."

Tanner read the message one last time, gave a grunt of contentment that nothing was amiss, and then hit the 'SEND' button.

"Remember, Zey, if anyone finds out about this it's my hide on the line - I like you, but I won't take the fall for you."

The guard then turned and strode quickly down the hall, leaving Roy alone in his dark, cramped cell.

Suddenly, though, the Spymaster didn't feel trapped at all. Soon enough, every being in this compound would come to the same realization...

It is not wise to get on the bad side of Royston Spektor.

 

[Raif]

It took six days.

Six days for Roy's message to reach his butler, Nerb. Six days for the secret-agent-turned-butler to decipher the message, track down the origin source, and mount a rescue.

Royston will forever remember every minute of those six days. His maniacal brother grew increasingly unstable as it became more and more apparent that Royston simply wouldn't be broken. Soon, Roy was spending almost his entire day in the dark room with the special tools, or bound and whipped in the subterranean amphitheater.

It was here that we find our hero, on his knees in the middle of the open area. His hands were heavily manacled in front of him, and as ever, the neural inhibitor was bound securely to his forehead. Royston had been able to catch enough glances of his headwater via broken bits of glass or sewage puddles to know that this particular model was centrally powered and remotely operated, meaning that there was some separate power course powering the inhibitor - and, more than likely, the explosive anti-tamper device implanted inside.

On either side of him, in addition to scattered all around on ever level of the coliseum, stood nondescript thugs, large blunt objects or blades in their hands and pistols on their hips or long guns on their backs.

On his usual dais, with his two cowed and beaten hounds behind him, stood the psychotic Kato. He was in the middle of some loud-mouthed speech, a large-caliber pistol in one hand and a bloodied whip in the other. Royston, of course, was the donor for the blood, and his chest and back were cut open in several locations from the lashing.

Royston had long ago stopped listening to the fool. He was losing patience. If Nerb didn't act soon, he wasn't sure --

BANG-POP!

The power went out with no warning, a small crashing explosion the only accompanying announcement. There was a moment's peace...

...and then everything erupted into chaos.

The instant that the neural inhibitors were no longer powered, Royston Spektor erupted like an inferno. The inhibitors themselves, as well as the manacles around his wrists, simply disintegrated under the powerful Force blast that erupted outward along with his scream of anguish. The two men on either side of him had been rocked back by his Force blast, but weren't fatally injured.

Roy changed that quickly.

He was like a wraith in the night, the darkness shattered constantly by the flashing lights of discharging weapons and the terrified cries of dying men. The gangster all fire their weapons, but it was like trying to catch smoke with your fingers. Roy was everywhere and no where, cutting down his foes with a ruthless efficiency that was the result of months of hard work and training at the brutal hands of men and women like Varek Rayth, Apollo Ordo, and Arcturus.

Roy was seldom a man of direct violence. But when he was, he was brutally efficient at it, taking no pleasure as he shot, stabbed, clawed, and kicked his enemies to death.

Within a very few sweaty, blood-soaked minutes, Roy found himself standing on the dais. At his feet lay his brother, twice shot but still plenty alive. Behind them both were the two chained hounds, their ears back and hackles up at the sounds and smells of death all around. The older clawdite was bleeding and obviously in pain, but was still defiant despite the rapid change in situation.

"Ah hah hah, isn't this just great. Just remember, boy, you can burn a bolt through my brain but it won't change a thing - you're still a waste of space. I could have killed you months ago and not a soul would mourn for you. So go ahead, shoot me. See if I care."

At some point while his brother was talking Roy had started raising the pistol in his hand - where had that pistol come from? It didn't matter. As Kato finished speaking the gun was pointed right at his chest.

It stayed there for a second. And two.

And then Roy turned, lowering the weapon, and began walking away from Kato. He still hadn't said a word since this all started. The time for words was passed.

"Oho, look who's turned yellah! I shoulda know, you couldn't kill your own flesh and blood. You're soft, Zey, I shoulda let those Forcers kill you!"

Royston had stopped walking, but his back was still to his brother. He took a deep breath, then another.

"What're you just standing there, you --"

SNAP

Roy snapped his fingers, and the chains holding the hounds in place shattered into thousands of tiny pieces. Immediately the abused and tormented canines launched themselves forward, their lips curling back to reveal their glistening teeth and they bore down on their prey.

Royston walked away from the carnage, a slight grin crossing his features, as Kato's dying screams were quickly silenced by the snarling hounds. He'd taken about fifty steps up the steps of the amphitheater and toward the exit, where he could now sense Nerb waiting for him, when the Spymaster stopped for a second.

You know, I've never had a dog. Why not two?

The clawdite then turned slightly, jamming his fingers into his lips and whistling shrilly while also subconsciously reaching toward the beats with the Force. The hounds came galloping, their silvery-grey fur stained red around their muzzles.

Nerb is going to shit when he sees those two, this is great.

Royston Spektor was back, and he was better than ever.

 

[Raif]

end scene​