| abstract
| - The Bavo Six, one of the Empire's many truth serums, had been injected into Sandor's bloodstream. So, the doctor was finished and left, leaving Sergeant Tanis and a few others in the cell to deal with Sandor on their own. Cantrell was called away to deal with matters with Captain Syris, but Catnip Tanis is fine with that; he can handle the traitor on his own. Now it's just a matter of time: let the Bavo Six take its full effect, and start drilling the prisoner until he starts telling them what they want to know. One topic in particular, as ordered by Grand Admiral Kreldin himself, has something to do with a Jedi named Ai'kani. But Tanis will save those sort of questions for later. He's no interrogation specialist - though he could certainly use one right about now - but he can be rather persuasive when he wants to be. He looks down at Sandor, still tied to the chair, and allows a smirk to show. "Sandor, Sandor... it really depresses me to see you in this spot, you know? You really were good. Perhaps even better than Cantrell. It's a real damn shame... but I'm willing to give you another chance. You've already been given three chances before, ya know?" Some time ago, Corporal Fleming, one of ISB's many interrogation and reconditioning specialists, was called away for an important operation. The details of this operation have remained classified to all but top officials, like other ISB operatives and men like Grand Admiral Kreldin and Warlord Korolov. In truth, truth that most are unaware of, he's been part of a critical reconditioning effort on one of the many industrial moons the Empire captured during the blitzkrieg. However, news of Woden's capture came swiftly through the appropriate channels, and Fleming was summarily called into duty once more. The trip on board a COMPNOR shuttle was long and quiet, giving Korynn quite some time to process through news of Woden's defection. The simple truth is, Woden was once a loyal member of the Empire. He will be one again. All Korynn needs is the proper time and freedom to unleash the art he's become so radically skilled in these past few weeks. News of Fleming's arrival comes to the cell containing Woden, by way of a small mouse droid. The droid arrives in the security wing, unloads a data-module into one of the security stations, and summarily informs the CompForce trooper standing guard that Fleming will be here in mere minutes... the shuttle is docking now. Chances? But chances are good, and the idea of being given one is a relief in the ears of the weary soldier. At least, he thinks it is, but Sandor isn't entirely certain, as he now lives in a very different world than the one he'd just been abducted from. A world where Tanis seems much better, stronger, and otherwise meaner than he did before. If only Sandor had known that the Sergeant possesses these qualities, why, he'd have recommended the man be promoted months ago! "What?" Sandor asks, weakly, of himself as much as of Tanis. A part of him knows that Bavo Six is supposed to do this, but yet it makes so much sense. Just which part of Sandor is correct in his belief? TK-4792, along with another stormtrooper, stands by the door holding his blaster rifle across his chest. With a blank expression on the face behind the helmet, he watches as Tanis begins to converse with the drugged Sandor. The traitor. TK felt no sympathy for Sandor or any of the others who had defected from the Empire. Should the order come, he would gladly execute any of them; starting with the one strapped to the chair in this very room. Though until that order came, he would quietly stand guard and watch. Tanis looks down upon Sandor as he copes with the Bavo Six, and his heart drops a bit. He doesn't like seeing a fellow man - especially one he fought with - in such a position. Sandor is a fellow survivor of the mission aboard the Crusader, after all. They have a bond, however weak it may be now. Tanis can't help himself but want to help Sandor - help him cure himself, rid of him the disease that made him jump over to the terrorists. But before he can follow up with any questions, the doors to the cell open up. He sees the mouse droid first, followed by the vaguely familiar form of Corporal Fleming. ISB. Just great. The last person he wants coming through the door. Well, if he's here a higher authority must have sent him; and Tanis is not one to question orders. "Corporal... good to see they sent a specialist. We have orders to interrogate this prisoner. Imperial defector, now a Marine. We have strict orders that he is not to be harmed in any way shape or form, and he is to be delivered to Grand Admiral Kreldin," he says, stepping away from Sandor and the chair and towards the white clad figure of TK-4792. Memories of the near-shoot out aboard the Dauntless between ISB and the military are still fresh in his mind. He casts a glance upon the stormtrooper and leans in to whisper. "Do you know where Sergeant Cantrell disappeared to, Trooper? I think we need him here..." Tanis He's a human male, obviously. Dark hair, blue eyes, and white skin; he's your average human. But, a deeper look into his eyes can reveal many more things about this one. That perhaps he's not so average after all. He stands at 1.78 meters - he's clean-shaven, and his hair is cut to military regulation length. Zero around the sides, that fades into a three on top. He wears casual Coruscanti middle-class clothing, comfortable shoes, and some headgear. Around his waist is an utility belt, with several holsters and other equipment pouches strapped onto it. => ST-II Blaster Rifle => Headset Comlink Sandor At a height of around five feet and ten inches, and with a lean build to boot, it is readily apparent that this isn't the largest of men. What he lacks in size he more than makes up for in intensity, however, as brilliant blue eyes peer out to the world with intensity, ever searching for something that is not readily apparent. Portions of his hair are obscured, but what is visible is reasonably short, and a dark brown in coloration, much like his bushy eyebrows. His actual features are well defined, and more than a bit sharp, with the exception of a gentle sloping to the sides in the case of his eyes. The man is wearing green and olive, camouflage-patterned BDUs that are the standard uniform for New Republic Marines. It has two pockets on the front of the shirt and across the left pocket is a black name patch reading |Sandor Woden|. An olive beret neatly tops the head, no marks on it what so ever. On both shoulders are dull red epaulettes, marked with /. On the right sleeve, right at the shoulder, there is a black, round patch with the familiar red Phoenix crest of the New Republic inside of it. On the left shoulder is a Bantha-shaped patch surrounded by a circular targeting reticule with a cross overlapping atop the Bantha inside, in a similar coloration to the other patch. He wears a black utility belt with a sidearm holstered on the right side and a functional vibro-knife sheathed on the other. A pair of well-buffed jungle/combat boots round out the ensemble. As Korynn enters the facility, his beady gaze lingers first upon Tanis as the man addresses him. His hands are clasped behind his back, gloves worn, and his expression gives away nothing beyond a sort of focused disappointment. He listens to Tanis's words, being slow to respond, as he turns his gaze upon the prisoner and defector before them. The edges of his eyelids flick slightly, as if he were trying to fight back a scowl, and succeeding. After moments of almost uncomfortable silence, he flicks his eyes back to Tanis. "Then we'll have to rely on the Bavo Six," he muses quietly, coldly. "We must assume the Grand Admiral has intentions that go along with his request, including mental stability. How long ago was he injected?" Quite a sight to begin with, the easily recognizable form of an ISB interrogation specialist, one that Sandor has seen in the past, is nearly enough to send the drugged man into bouts of tears. It isn't supposed to be like this, and he knows that truth all too well, along with the inescapable reality that no one can defy the ISB, anywhere. The prisoner seems to shrink at the sight, though inwardly he appreciates the calm before the storm. Every moment the Imperials spend delaying on organization and conversation is one more moment that he's not being slammed with fists, pumped with additional drugs, or worst of all, breaking under the pressure and coercion. As more and more people pile into the brig, Sandor becomes aware of the veritable army that he is surrounded by; as though a legion of the Empire's finest has personally stepped into the room to stare him down. It's quite the sight to behold, and one that even now that the drug is coming into full effect, Sandor knows that he doesn't want to see ever again. Nor does he wish to die, however, in spite of the fact that it seems to him as all but impossible to escape the current predicament, and return to what truly matters to him. As the words being exchanged around Sandor pass through his head, the prisoner gets the distinct impression that undertones to each phrase exist that are in fact not there, all pointing toward even worse things in store for him. "I'm not late, am I?" A raspy voice echoes in the room as the blast doors part open, revealing the familiar image of the Empire's Mandalorian soldier, Cantrell, donning his new set of custom Stormtrooper armor. Spotting Tanis, he makes his way over towards the Sergeant, his eye gazing over at the traitor for a moment before returning it to Tanis. "Excuse my delay...but the Captain was...insistent that he spoke to me." He offers the ISB spook a nod, never been too fond of the ISB himself, having a few run-ins with them in the past. "I hear your one of the finest the ISB has.." Cantrell grins towards Korynn, a mocking grin. "I want this traitor to pour his guts out." He growls, pointing towards Sandor. "The Admiral expects good results. I wouldn't want to see his requests meet with failure." TK and the other trooper turn simultaneously as Korynn enters the room; each trooper moving in tandem to intercept the man. When Tanis addresses the newcomer, however, the troopers return to their posts as if nothing had happened. When Tanis speaks to TK, the trooper shakes his head. As he opens his mouth to speak, the door opens again and Cantrell enters. While the other trooper move again, TK simply nods toward the Mandalorian. "He's here now, sir." Cantrell The face of the humanoid standing before you is obscured by the notorious stark white helmet used by Stormtroopers. In place of where the eyes should be, twin sets of cold, dead black eyeholes peer out lifelessly ahead of the individual. A 'sneer' is permanently in place on the helmet, in reality it's the breathing apparatus. The helmet itself is pitted and scratched, apparently from the long time of service for this particular Stormtrooper. The man is wearing the gleaming, well-crafted white armor commonly used by the Stormtrooper units of the Empire. Gleaming white, the armor itself appears to be kept in working condition. The black body glove that he wears underneath can be seen at times, mostly whenever he is in motion. A white utility belt is fasten across the man's waist, containing a holster and among other utilities a Stormtrooper needs. His white boots emit a dull, quiet thud whenever he is in motion. His hands are covered by black gloves covered with a white plating. Tanis feels his throat close as the ISB agent gets a little too close for comfort, but Tanis finds his nerve and responds in a crisp manner. "He was injected approximately thirty minutes go. Should be at optimum efficiency right about now..." he says, crossing his arms over his chest. He doesn't quite know why the Grand Admiral is so interested in one simple soldier, but whatever it is it must be important. Perhaps something to do with the Jedi that Kreldin wants them to find out about? Oh yes, he almost forgot about that. "Oh, the Grand Admiral would like us to question him on a certain Jedi by the name of Ai'kani. I'm not quite sure what a lowly Marine like himself would know, but..." he says as Cantrell enters, watching the Mandalorian, sporting his new and fashionable armor, enter. He gives a slight nod to TK-4793. "Yeah, the guy is a show-off... always making a big entrance," he says, and turns to face the Mandalorian. "Master Sergeant Cantrell... we have a guest," he says, looking over to Korynn. "Agent Fleming, from the Security Bureau. He'll be handling the questioning..." Unfortunately. Oh, how Tanis despises these guys. Well, best let the man do his job. He leans against the bulkhead next to TK-4793, and he lets his gaze fall upon the trooper. "Loosen up, Trooper. Relax. You look like you have a stick up your ass," he says, grinning and patting the trooper on his shoulder. Fleming turns then to exchange looks between Cantrell and Tanis. "Petty chatting like this in front of the prisoner will not aide in the questioning. The both of you have already spoiled my first efforts. Now, I'd love to give you both a detailed run down on interrogation techniques that work, but for now, either quiet down, or observe the operation via the security feed." Korynn's eyes look from Tanis to Cantrell, malice stirring in his expression in the face of what, to him, seems to be lack of discipline. He waits patiently now, to see their responses, before beginning the operation. And still more of the Imperials come! Will the relentless onslaught forced upon Sandor's eyes ever relent, or will the man simply capitulate before ever being confronted by what they have in store for him? Most of the words spoken around him don't seem to hold any real meaning outside of their undertones, but one in particular causes Sandor's attention to immediately shoot towards Tanis. He'd tried to hide it as best as he could during the initial interrogation, but caution has been thrown out the window, and for a second Sandor's eyes go fairly wide at the mention of Ai'kani, believing that whatever is being said about her will be something terrible. But, this turns out not to be the case - not yet, at least. A smile forms on Cantrell face as the ISB official speaks, offering him a slight nod. "We will assist in any way we are able to. Just get the job done." He finishes the sentence with a growl, gesturing to Tanis and TK-4792 to follow over towards him a few feet away from Sandor and Korynn. "By all means, Corporal, this show is yours." Cantrell motions to Sandor with his hand, folding his arms across his chest. TK disregards Tanis' comment about relaxing. He was relaxed. Standing guard over a restrained and drugged prisoner was about as relaxing a job as a stormtrooper could ask for. Briefly, when Korynn reprimands Tanis and Cantrell, TK entertains the thought that perhaps some others could perhaps do with a little less relaxation. But the thought is gone as soon as it arrives and his attention is returned to Sandor. Cantrell has just looked at you. Sometimes Tanis misses being in the 988th Special Ops Company. At least there the soldiers had...personality. The world of the Stormtrooper Legions were entirely different. Case in point, TK-4792. Tanis just shrugs and looks over to a man with plenty of personality: good old Master Sergeant Cantrell, and offers him a smile. At least he's smart enough to keep his mouth shut at Korynn's verbal abuse. Perhaps Cantrell knows his limits after all... "Sorry, Agent Fleming. But we did do a lot of hard work - we got him here in the first place. I think you could show a little respect for that, huh? It wasn't easy..." A high-speed car chase through the Coruscant skylines, jumping from car to car. Damn right it wasn't easy. Tanis just shrugs, though. He's probably said too much already. So, he just sighs, sucks up his pride, and looks at Sandor, still feeling some sympathy. Maybe some Re-Education would do the former sniper some good... Agent Fleming nods his head, the malice in his eyes stayed as Cantrell and Tanis respect his wishes. He cants his head toward the latter and replies in a sterile voice, "You serve the Empire well." That's high respect coming from an ISB agent. He then turns toward Sandor, his cold and sterile expression lingering upon the prisoner quietly for more than a few moments. "Betraying the glory of the Empire, and gallivanting with the Jedi." He shakes his head from side to side, as he moves to put himself in view of Woden's eyes. "Clearly you are not much of a sabaac player, now are you?" As he speaks, his meticulous eyes begin searching Sandor's face and hands for the smallest, most minute sign of a reaction to his words, as if he were a surgeon pricking a nerve and watching with six eyes to find the reaction. "What?", Sandor repeats, just as weakly as he had earlier, the transition between asking Tanis the question and asking Korynn being relatively seamless. Just what is Fleming getting at, asking a man who had won second place in a sabacc game just the other day if he's a good player? Of course, the fact that the ISB Agent cannot make the distinction between what Sandor knows and has done and his records doesn't even enter the soldier's mind, and surely doesn't make it's way onto his lips, which are kept sealed as much as possible. Even in the altered state of the Bavo Six, or perhaps especially in that state, Sandor knows just what the man is supposed to be doing. And the idea simply terrifies him. In the many years of service Cantrell has in the Empire and the countless amount of people he's helped capture, he's never actually stayed to see one get interrogated. Throwing a menacing glance at Tanis for him to shut up, he returns his gaze towards Sandor. The poor bastard; he would've made a fine soldier in the Empire. One that more than likely would rival himself, had he not decide to turn his back to the Empire. Letting out a sigh, he reaches into his utility belt and reveals a pack of Sullustan cigarettes, his personal favorite. Grabbing hold of one, he offers the pack to Tanis. "This ought to be interesting." He says quietly, trying not to interrupt the ISB agent from doing his job. "Trust me, Sergeant. I definitely wouldn't want to be in the traitor's spot after the stories I’ve heard." Tanis takes the pack into his hand and pulls one of the cigarettes out. He's never had Sullustan cigarettes before. They've been in abundance ever since the Empire conquered the planet last year, but he never really thought to try an alien cigarette. He's always been on the high human culture. Nevertheless, it doesn't hurt to try them. He tucks the cigarette between his lips and offers the pack to TK-4792, but quickly realizes the folly in that the stormtrooper is still in his helmet. Shrugging, he hands the pack back over to Cantrell and looks around for a lighter. "Got a light?" he asks, trying to take his attention off the ongoing interrogation and thoughts of ISB and their methods. He's heard stories, too, after all... best to not talk about them here. Not with an agent in plain sight. He looks away from Sandor and Korynn, and sighs. "So... you have to tell me, where did you get that armor?" Just as Korynn had expected... the hallucinogenic Bavo Six injection is running at full force. Woden wasn't able to even comprehend such a complicated dialogue, and the slightest of sneers crosses the interrogator's face. "You are a stain, Sandor Woden," he speaks, his words quiet and calm, as if each word were absolute truth. If the drug works as it should, the prisoner should be as susceptible to suggestion as he is to answering questions. "You are a mark of disgrace to the galaxy. Your life is empty and nothing without loyalty. And that is why you will believe every word I speak, and obey every request I give. Do you understand?" Sandor understands, but the phrases no longer make sense - coming from an ISB Agent, they likely never would have, either. Loyalty, duty, disgrace; all are things that Sandor knows better than the back of his hand, yet something doesn't feel right about hearing them mentioned. Still, however, many of the words are so direct that he knows exactly what they mean, and at the fact that he truly is a disgrace to all of the units he was once part of, to the medals he'd worn, and even to the training systems that had taught him to soldier at the very beginning hangs upon the wounded prisoner's features. Shamed, Sandor's head turns toward the floor, unable to look at his former comrades any longer. Almost immediately, Fleming takes two long, fast strides toward Sandor. His left hand emerges, and clenches tightly around the defector's chin, fingers digging just so far into the skin between the prisoner's jaw and lower teeth that he'll cause sufficient pain without leaving any marks or signs of damage. In this method he lifts Sandor's head until he is at least facing Korynn head on... whether the prisoner will meet his gaze is up to the prisoner. "Look at me," he hisses with a feral voice. "And answer me. Do you understand?" His Coruscanti voice is layered with acid. The hissing, yet still authoritarian voice prompts Sandor into action, as does the fear of just what the ISB man will do if he doesn't comply. Red marks exist in several places on Sandor's face, as well as a bit of recently dried blood here and there, traces of a less precise approach having been utilized earlier on. "Yes," the traitor admits, his eyes still avoiding Tanis as though the former SpecOps soldier is infected with the Dacan virus, or something equally grisly. TK had personality. While a clone, he was still able to think independently. But he was on duty and that meant, for him, that the job came first. Glancing at the offered cigarettes, the trooper shakes his head. With the helmet, he wouldn't be able to smoke if he wanted. Straightening in his place at the door, he turns back to the interrogation. It was the first one that he had witnessed and it was quite something to see. "Good," replies Fleming, who lightens up on the pressure, providing the prisoner with positive reinforcement for his obedience. "Now tell me of your involvement with the Jedi named Ai'kani." It is a simple request, and Korynn keeps his hand firmly positioned at Sandor's chin, as if to remind the prisoner of who now has authority and control over the prisoner's well being. "I.. it," Sandor begins, nervous beyond reason, and struggling with what he's saying at all. Even with the Bavo Six, this is one subject he knows is a bad thing to mention, especially so soon after Cantrell had informed him of that very fact, prematurely. The prisoner shakes his head slightly, coming to a conclusion that doesn't sit well with the ominous presentation arrayed in front of him. "I don't want to," the soldier replies, in a meek, cracking tone, one that the soldier of the New Republic doesn't recall having used in his entire life. And with just those few words, Korynn suddenly seems so much bigger than he had before. On the contrary, Sandor had just told Korynn much, much more than the prisoner may realize. He lifts his head in a slow, almost understanding nod. "Because the Jedi and your marine friends have poisoned your mind," he clarifies. Fleming releases his grip on the prisoner's chin, and turns about address those standing behind him. "Get a prisoner's jumpsuit," he says with authority. "The prisoner must be cleansed, and seeing himself garbed in the outfit of the enemy will not help him to be cured." He then turns to Tanis and instructs, "Begin removing the prisoner's uniform." Sandor will be humiliated. "It was a gift from the Grand Admiral himself." Cantrell takes a slow, long drag of his cigarette, brushing off the shoulder pauldron. He smiles fondly of the Mandalorian skull emblazoned on it. "For my service." A grimace forms on the Mandalorian's face, seeing how fast Sandor is spiraling into submission. It's quickly replaced with a grin. That's what he gets for shooting the Master Sergeant. "Good... he's breaking.." He says to himself, reaching over for a nearby chair and plopping down on it. Might as well get comfortable, since this might take awhile. A gift from Kreldin? Tanis whistles, impressed by the armor - and the fact that Cantrell was awarded so. "Lucky you... what'd you do to get that, eh?" he asks, obviously intrigued. Perhaps it was that whole mess on Ord Trasi. Or the operation on Coruscant. Or Cantrell's work in the Neo-Imperial Movement. Could have been a ton of things... from what little Tanis knows, he does know Cantrell has had a long history with the Grand Admiral. What a brown noser. Itching his nose, Tanis hands the cigarette pack back to Cantrell and continues to search his pockets for a lighter, figuring Cantrell would recognize the sign and give him one to use, as the cigarette is still unlit. He has distanced himself from the interrogation, not having the guts to see his old friend broken down and humiliated by the agent. Unfortunately, the agent calls for him, and he responds, like a good soldier. "Yeah, right. Be right back," he says, cursing that he still doesn't have a light. He steps away and moves over to the chair, starting to untie him to make it easier to remove the uniform. "Sorry about this, old friend..." Still partially tied, Sandor can't exactly do much physically, and really wouldn't be able to in any case, given just how many people are around him. Perhaps with a weapon, the soldier would find the odds to be a little better, but even then, the greatest of the many fears that now cloud his mind is being unable to return to the New Republic, unable to see Ai'kani again. Unfortunately for him, this is also the most likely fear to actually transpire, for the moment. "Enemy..", he echoes, the powerful drug having had little effect on the traitor's absolutely nasty headache. "Yes," he whispers. TK-4792 has disconnected. A prisoner jumpsuit. Cantrell can't help but to chortle at the thought of Sandor in a prisoner's jumpsuit. Revenge is sweet, he thinks to himself. Cantrell does have respect for Sandor's combat abilities, but he's nothing more than a spineless coward in the eyes of the Mandalorian. He watches as Sandor twists in pain, satisfied that the drug is really kicking in. He nods to Tanis, handing him the lighter just before he's tasked to assist the ISB agent. Tanis's comment is duly noted by Fleming, though he ignores it for now. He begins to assist in the almost ceremonial disrobing of Sandor, leaving him cold in the cell before he begins to assist in getting the prisoner in a more fitting jumpsuit. He takes the Republic uniform and begins folding it over itself. "This will go to the Admiral," he indicates, and turns to set the folded uniform down near the wall before returning to the prisoner. "Very good, then. Now, tell me... why don't you want to tell me about the Jedi named Ai'kani?" Silently, Sandor wonders how he could have not noticed just how cold the brig is before, but it's a thought that he neither vocalizes or holds for very long, as he's assailed by a new question. He half-opens his mouth to answer, when the level of thought it takes to make a response at all leads the traitor onto a crucial issue. Really, Sandor shouldn't be telling him at all, but he doesn't realize that there are more ways to make a response, and just hearing Ai'kani's name uttered by an agent of the ISB sends shivers through the man's body. And not all of them are of fear or guilt, either; no, the traitor is visibly irritated at the question, at Korynn's usage of the name at all. It's probably not the best idea given the situation, but with the drug affecting Sandor's judgment, and the emotion and desire present to commit an act of aggression against the agent in front of him, something snaps in the soldier's grasp of self-preservation. Since it doesn't appear anyone is holding him down, and that Tanis has just finished untying the soldier so as to allow the disrobing to take place at all, the man surges forward and attempts to cover the meter or so distance to Korynn, and lets loose a fist aimed at the agent's face. Notably, Sandor's left arm hangs relatively unused during this act, still hurting from the wound to the shoulder so near it. Tanis did what he was told; he untied Sandor's bounds, and went to work on removing his soldier's uniform. It was bloody, sweaty, and down right filthy; and not so much filthy because Sandor got it dirty, but because it is the uniform of a terrorist. He prepares to go place the uniform down some where, to hand it off to Kreldin at the appropriate time, and to retrieve a prisoner's uniform from the storage room when Sandor makes his valiant attack on the ISB agent. Tanis is too slow to react however; he can only watch as Sandor lunges forward with his fist, a sense of pride building up in him as he watches his former friend, who, despite all odds and being drugged and wounded, has the will left to carry on the fight. If all the Republicans were like that... Korynn's face becomes the impact point of a well-placed attack, and his head jerks sideways with the impact. The force of the blow throws him back two steps before he can regain his composure. Not many have ever seen Fleming take a shot like that, you know. By the time he's regained his footing, the two CompForce troopers posted outside the cell have begun barging in, their stun batons wielded and ready to beat the prisoner back into submission. A smirk appears on Fleming's face, in spite of the blood that begins to trickle from the corner of his lip. Sandor's world spins around him, yet somehow he manages to keep his balance long enough to land the hit on Agent Fleming's face. While it definitely hurts for his hand to connect so hard against a solid object, it's the first pain that Sandor has experienced since his capture that genuinely feels good. Seeing the additional troopers, which seem a bit more efficient and terrible than they may actually be from the drugs, Sandor knows that he doesn't have much time. Shuffling forward, leaning forward as he does so to bring some of his own weight into a slight advantage, Sandor throws another punch Korynn's way, again from the right, unable to simply stand about and await his fate. The Mandalorian watches quietly as the interrogation moves on, finishing the remainder of the cigarette and dropping it on the floor, his boots steps on it with a crunch. He chuckles a bit watching Tanis change him as if he were a helping a child get dress, shaking his head in disbelief. "This is pathetic." He mumbles to himself. Ooh...the sorry sod has some fight still left in him, Cantrell thinks to himself, watching Sandor taking a swing at Korynn, and connecting. Inside of him he's glad; he's never been fond of the ISB, so a little bit of him cheers for the traitor. But then again, he is a traitor after all, and attacking an Imperial official. Getting up from his chair slowly, he watches Sandor make another move over to the ISB agent. With a couple of quick steps, he unslings his rifle and jabs it into the back of his head with great force. Dazed to begin with, and reeling from so many other injuries, the cheap shot is enough to bring the traitor down, and into unconsciousness. It's only by very good fortune that he happens to land almost perfectly, not hitting either of his heads against the floor, nor any other vulnerable extremities that he'll have need of in life, if he does survive this ordeal. But, if Sandor thought that the headache he'd had until losing consciousness was bad, he certainly has a surprise in store for himself next he awakens. Korynn manages to bring his forearm up to deflect the traitor's attempt at a second shot, and though the bone in his arm will be sore for the next two days, it'll do him better than to have two bruises on his face. He observes how Sandor is taken down with a reluctance in his gaze, and takes a step forward to inspect the unconscious traitor. Fleming's tongue makes a slight escape from his mouth, licking at the blood that seeps from the corner of his lip and drawing it back inside to keep his face clear of the red liquid. "Then that's that," he replies. "The traitor will clearly need to undergo a more intense procedure if he's going to be broken effectively." Fleming seems to be ignoring the pain that brings a slight swelling to his face. "Then let's have him taken to Kreldin." Grand Admiral Kreldin's Office - - SSD Malevolence A lavish, large and lively office, a stark contrast to the dull surroundings of the rest of the Imperial star dreadnought. Upon first entering through the double, wooden doors (imported from Kuat, no less), visitors are greeted to a small corridor lined with pieces of art from through the galaxy - mostly alien - until it reaches yet another double-set of wooden doors that lead into the office proper. Office, however, may be an incorrect word to use to describe the interior of the room. The floor is carpeted, made from materials gathered on Mutanda, a very comfortable that adds to the calm, pleasant mood of the room. The walls are painted a pleasant hue of light red and lined with all sorts of decorations ranging from art, awards and citations, and animal prizes won in various hunts throughout the galaxy. Another display, located to the center of the right wall, is a case in which Kreldin's military medals and ribbons lie. Literally dozens upon dozens of military decorations that span from Kreldin's service in the Republic during the Clone Wars to his days as an Imperial Grand Admiral. To the center of the room, towards the upper wall, is the desk itself. A large throne-like seat rests behind the desk, with four more seats arranged in front of the desk for visitors. Behind the desk built into the wall is a fireplace, above it a large painting of Emperor Palpatine standing in front of the Imperial starburst. => Danik Obvious exits: ut leads to Audience Chamber - SSD Malevolence. Waiting outside patiently is Corporal Fleming. The bruise on his face has been tended to, leaving only the slightest of marks... his medical training is not limited to making people suffer, after all. Danik watches as the ISB agent enters his office, just as Cantrell and the three Imperial generals exit. He offers a nod of his head to the agent, slightly curious by the bruise that now marks his face. Sandor? Definitely. Who else? This brings a smile to his face, knowing that his young protégé still had the willpower left in him. Perhaps the rebels haven't completely turned him. There's still hope. "Corporal Fleming, thank you for coming. Please, take a seat," he says, offering one of his four seats to the agent. "We have much to talk about." Fleming nods to the Admiral's aide, and turns to enter the Admiral's Office. As is usual, Fleming walks with a crisp step, his hands clasped behind his back. Once he reaches a respectful distance from the Admiral, he stops and bows his head in a crisp saluting fashion, a tone of respect in his eyes and the mannerisms in how he moves. "Admiral," he replies in greeting, and turns to take a seat on a chair nearby, removing his gloves in another sign of respect. He tucks the gloves into his belt and turns to face Danik, folding his hands together. "Indeed," he replies. "I presume you're curious about my initial interrogation of Woden?" "Absolutely," Danik quickly replies, sitting up in his throne and resting his arms on the desk. "I see he's as troublesome as ever, hm?" Danik remarks, grinning as he looks at the bruise upon the agent's face. "Very disheartening. That man had a lot of potential. So much, in fact, that I gave him two chances and pulled him off execution row," he says, sighing as he now regrets ever letting Woden off after defecting in the past. "So... enlighten me, Agent." The slightest hint of a sneer shows on Fleming's face. "Oh, he was quite easy to break until I brought up the Jedi you had mentioned, named Ai'kani. As soon as I began inquiring about her, his countenance shifted. That is going to be the issue that faces us next. I chose not to press the issue further... Cantrell was forced to take matters into his own hands when Woden got violent. I believe a reconditioning could be quite effective, but in order to glean information about the Jedi is going to take some time and creativity." Danik either doesn't detect the sneer, or he doesn't bother to acknowledge it. If the Agent has a problem with it, he might just find himself in a Re-Education camp. But, Danik puts on his familiar, warm smile. "It likely will, I agree. However, I do not anything such as that done until I've had a chance to speak to him. I don't want him harmed any further, either; you leave that to me, Agent," he says, bringing his hand to his chin and rubbing it. "However, Agent, this news does shed some light on the issue - he only got violent when Ai'kani was brought up, hm? Why do you think this is so? When do we get our most fierce?" he asks, leaning back in his throne, trying to put the clues together, though he may already have the answer. He just looks to the Agent for confirmation. The sneer is now gone. Matters are at hand, and they are most crucial. The Jedi are involved, after all, their stain still smearing the galaxy. "That won't be a problem, Sir," he replies, acknowledging Danik's request. His hands remain folded before him, and he barely moves... minimal movements dictate his very attitude. "Clearly there's a friendship involved with the Jedi, perhaps something even more than a friendship. An initial scan of Woden's recent service duties shows that he had entered the Jedi's cell when she was in our custody. Not long after this, his defection came into being. I would suspect, Admiral, that the two are connected." Danik slides his hand through his graying hair, nodding his head as the thoughts flow through his mind. "Right you are, Agent, right you are..." He almost forgot that Sandor's defection came almost right after Ai'kani escaped from custody. It makes too much sense. So, Danik makes up his mind. He'll see how far he can put Sandor to use against the Jedi. "Very well, Agent, I have a plan. I'm going to use Sandor as bait for Ai'kani. We'll see if she takes it. If our suspicions are correct, she will. Contact the local system cell on Coruscant... tell them to get into contact with Ai'kani by any means possible. Let her know Grand Admiral Danik Kreldin has Sandor Woden, and if she wants him back she'll have to meet me." He folds his hands on his desk and nods his head. "It should work. These Jedi have desire to save everyone. So even if she isn't as connected to him as we suspect, I believe she'll take it, regardless... what do you think, Agent?" The traces of a smile show on Fleming's face, and he nods his head. "I think it's a good plan. My only concern is, if we are not correct in our reading of Woden's response, we might incur a Jedi response other than what we're expecting. This isn't a bad thing, per say, but we should be prepared for potential contingencies. Use whatever intelligence we have on the Jedi to prepare for all possible outcomes." "You let me deal with the Jedi, Agent. Just do your job," Danik says, leaning back in his chair. He'll be more than ready for the Jedi. He closes his eyes and lets out a sigh, reaching out with his feelings in an attempt to pick up Darth Malign's familiar sense. He can certainly feel Vadim, hidden deep within the Malevolence, but Malign... where is he? He would make a good ally should the situation with Ai'kani get more difficult. Namely more Jedi getting involved. Jedi with the name Skywalker. But Kreldin is confident it'll work out the way he wants it to; his plans usually do. "Thank you for your time, Agent. That'll be all for now; have Woden brought to my office within the hour, and get the message out to Ai'kani." His throne revolves around, facing away from Korynn and back to a view screen in front of the fireplace. "It will be done, Admiral," replies Fleming, who then rises from his chair. "Glory to the Emperor," he states, before turning and walking crisply toward the door. From SW1ki, a Wikia wiki.
- The Bavo Six, one of the Empire's many truth serums, had been injected into Sandor's bloodstream. So, the doctor was finished and left, leaving Sergeant Tanis and a few others in the cell to deal with Sandor on their own. Cantrell was called away to deal with matters with Captain Syris, but Catnip Tanis is fine with that; he can handle the traitor on his own. Now it's just a matter of time: let the Bavo Six take its full effect, and start drilling the prisoner until he starts telling them what they want to know. One topic in particular, as ordered by Grand Admiral Kreldin himself, has something to do with a Jedi named Ai'kani. But Tanis will save those sort of questions for later. He's no interrogation specialist - though he could certainly use one right about now - but he can be rather persuasive when he wants to be. He looks down at Sandor, still tied to the chair, and allows a smirk to show. "Sandor, Sandor... it really depresses me to see you in this spot, you know? You really were good. Perhaps even better than Cantrell. It's a real damn shame... but I'm willing to give you another chance. You've already been given three chances before, ya know?" Some time ago, Corporal Fleming, one of ISB's many interrogation and reconditioning specialists, was called away for an important operation. The details of this operation have remained classified to all but top officials, like other ISB operatives and men like Grand Admiral Kreldin and Warlord Korolov. In truth, truth that most are unaware of, he's been part of a critical reconditioning effort on one of the many industrial moons the Empire captured during the blitzkrieg. However, news of Woden's capture came swiftly through the appropriate channels, and Fleming was summarily called into duty once more. The trip on board a COMPNOR shuttle was long and quiet, giving Korynn quite some time to process through news of Woden's defection. The simple truth is, Woden was once a loyal member of the Empire. He will be one again. All Korynn needs is the proper time and freedom to unleash the art he's become so radically skilled in these past few weeks. News of Fleming's arrival comes to the cell containing Woden, by way of a small mouse droid. The droid arrives in the security wing, unloads a data-module into one of the security stations, and summarily informs the CompForce trooper standing guard that Fleming will be here in mere minutes... the shuttle is docking now. Chances? But chances are good, and the idea of being given one is a relief in the ears of the weary soldier. At least, he thinks it is, but Sandor isn't entirely certain, as he now lives in a very different world than the one he'd just been abducted from. A world where Tanis seems much better, stronger, and otherwise meaner than he did before. If only Sandor had known that the Sergeant possesses these qualities, why, he'd have recommended the man be promoted months ago! "What?" Sandor asks, weakly, of himself as much as of Tanis. A part of him knows that Bavo Six is supposed to do this, but yet it makes so much sense. Just which part of Sandor is correct in his belief? TK-4792, along with another stormtrooper, stands by the door holding his blaster rifle across his chest. With a blank expression on the face behind the helmet, he watches as Tanis begins to converse with the drugged Sandor. The traitor. TK felt no sympathy for Sandor or any of the others who had defected from the Empire. Should the order come, he would gladly execute any of them; starting with the one strapped to the chair in this very room. Though until that order came, he would quietly stand guard and watch. Tanis looks down upon Sandor as he copes with the Bavo Six, and his heart drops a bit. He doesn't like seeing a fellow man - especially one he fought with - in such a position. Sandor is a fellow survivor of the mission aboard the Crusader, after all. They have a bond, however weak it may be now. Tanis can't help himself but want to help Sandor - help him cure himself, rid of him the disease that made him jump over to the terrorists. But before he can follow up with any questions, the doors to the cell open up. He sees the mouse droid first, followed by the vaguely familiar form of Corporal Fleming. ISB. Just great. The last person he wants coming through the door. Well, if he's here a higher authority must have sent him; and Tanis is not one to question orders. "Corporal... good to see they sent a specialist. We have orders to interrogate this prisoner. Imperial defector, now a Marine. We have strict orders that he is not to be harmed in any way shape or form, and he is to be delivered to Grand Admiral Kreldin," he says, stepping away from Sandor and the chair and towards the white clad figure of TK-4792. Memories of the near-shoot out aboard the Dauntless between ISB and the military are still fresh in his mind. He casts a glance upon the stormtrooper and leans in to whisper. "Do you know where Sergeant Cantrell disappeared to, Trooper? I think we need him here..." Tanis He's a human male, obviously. Dark hair, blue eyes, and white skin; he's your average human. But, a deeper look into his eyes can reveal many more things about this one. That perhaps he's not so average after all. He stands at 1.78 meters - he's clean-shaven, and his hair is cut to military regulation length. Zero around the sides, that fades into a three on top. He wears casual Coruscanti middle-class clothing, comfortable shoes, and some headgear. Around his waist is an utility belt, with several holsters and other equipment pouches strapped onto it. => ST-II Blaster Rifle => Headset Comlink Sandor At a height of around five feet and ten inches, and with a lean build to boot, it is readily apparent that this isn't the largest of men. What he lacks in size he more than makes up for in intensity, however, as brilliant blue eyes peer out to the world with intensity, ever searching for something that is not readily apparent. Portions of his hair are obscured, but what is visible is reasonably short, and a dark brown in coloration, much like his bushy eyebrows. His actual features are well defined, and more than a bit sharp, with the exception of a gentle sloping to the sides in the case of his eyes. The man is wearing green and olive, camouflage-patterned BDUs that are the standard uniform for New Republic Marines. It has two pockets on the front of the shirt and across the left pocket is a black name patch reading |Sandor Woden|. An olive beret neatly tops the head, no marks on it what so ever. On both shoulders are dull red epaulettes, marked with /. On the right sleeve, right at the shoulder, there is a black, round patch with the familiar red Phoenix crest of the New Republic inside of it. On the left shoulder is a Bantha-shaped patch surrounded by a circular targeting reticule with a cross overlapping atop the Bantha inside, in a similar coloration to the other patch. He wears a black utility belt with a sidearm holstered on the right side and a functional vibro-knife sheathed on the other. A pair of well-buffed jungle/combat boots round out the ensemble. As Korynn enters the facility, his beady gaze lingers first upon Tanis as the man addresses him. His hands are clasped behind his back, gloves worn, and his expression gives away nothing beyond a sort of focused disappointment. He listens to Tanis's words, being slow to respond, as he turns his gaze upon the prisoner and defector before them. The edges of his eyelids flick slightly, as if he were trying to fight back a scowl, and succeeding. After moments of almost uncomfortable silence, he flicks his eyes back to Tanis. "Then we'll have to rely on the Bavo Six," he muses quietly, coldly. "We must assume the Grand Admiral has intentions that go along with his request, including mental stability. How long ago was he injected?" Quite a sight to begin with, the easily recognizable form of an ISB interrogation specialist, one that Sandor has seen in the past, is nearly enough to send the drugged man into bouts of tears. It isn't supposed to be like this, and he knows that truth all too well, along with the inescapable reality that no one can defy the ISB, anywhere. The prisoner seems to shrink at the sight, though inwardly he appreciates the calm before the storm. Every moment the Imperials spend delaying on organization and conversation is one more moment that he's not being slammed with fists, pumped with additional drugs, or worst of all, breaking under the pressure and coercion. As more and more people pile into the brig, Sandor becomes aware of the veritable army that he is surrounded by; as though a legion of the Empire's finest has personally stepped into the room to stare him down. It's quite the sight to behold, and one that even now that the drug is coming into full effect, Sandor knows that he doesn't want to see ever again. Nor does he wish to die, however, in spite of the fact that it seems to him as all but impossible to escape the current predicament, and return to what truly matters to him. As the words being exchanged around Sandor pass through his head, the prisoner gets the distinct impression that undertones to each phrase exist that are in fact not there, all pointing toward even worse things in store for him. "I'm not late, am I?" A raspy voice echoes in the room as the blast doors part open, revealing the familiar image of the Empire's Mandalorian soldier, Cantrell, donning his new set of custom Stormtrooper armor. Spotting Tanis, he makes his way over towards the Sergeant, his eye gazing over at the traitor for a moment before returning it to Tanis. "Excuse my delay...but the Captain was...insistent that he spoke to me." He offers the ISB spook a nod, never been too fond of the ISB himself, having a few run-ins with them in the past. "I hear your one of the finest the ISB has.." Cantrell grins towards Korynn, a mocking grin. "I want this traitor to pour his guts out." He growls, pointing towards Sandor. "The Admiral expects good results. I wouldn't want to see his requests meet with failure." TK and the other trooper turn simultaneously as Korynn enters the room; each trooper moving in tandem to intercept the man. When Tanis addresses the newcomer, however, the troopers return to their posts as if nothing had happened. When Tanis speaks to TK, the trooper shakes his head. As he opens his mouth to speak, the door opens again and Cantrell enters. While the other trooper move again, TK simply nods toward the Mandalorian. "He's here now, sir." Cantrell The face of the humanoid standing before you is obscured by the notorious stark white helmet used by Stormtroopers. In place of where the eyes should be, twin sets of cold, dead black eyeholes peer out lifelessly ahead of the individual. A 'sneer' is permanently in place on the helmet, in reality it's the breathing apparatus. The helmet itself is pitted and scratched, apparently from the long time of service for this particular Stormtrooper. The man is wearing the gleaming, well-crafted white armor commonly used by the Stormtrooper units of the Empire. Gleaming white, the armor itself appears to be kept in working condition. The black body glove that he wears underneath can be seen at times, mostly whenever he is in motion. A white utility belt is fasten across the man's waist, containing a holster and among other utilities a Stormtrooper needs. His white boots emit a dull, quiet thud whenever he is in motion. His hands are covered by black gloves covered with a white plating. Tanis feels his throat close as the ISB agent gets a little too close for comfort, but Tanis finds his nerve and responds in a crisp manner. "He was injected approximately thirty minutes go. Should be at optimum efficiency right about now..." he says, crossing his arms over his chest. He doesn't quite know why the Grand Admiral is so interested in one simple soldier, but whatever it is it must be important. Perhaps something to do with the Jedi that Kreldin wants them to find out about? Oh yes, he almost forgot about that. "Oh, the Grand Admiral would like us to question him on a certain Jedi by the name of Ai'kani. I'm not quite sure what a lowly Marine like himself would know, but..." he says as Cantrell enters, watching the Mandalorian, sporting his new and fashionable armor, enter. He gives a slight nod to TK-4793. "Yeah, the guy is a show-off... always making a big entrance," he says, and turns to face the Mandalorian. "Master Sergeant Cantrell... we have a guest," he says, looking over to Korynn. "Agent Fleming, from the Security Bureau. He'll be handling the questioning..." Unfortunately. Oh, how Tanis despises these guys. Well, best let the man do his job. He leans against the bulkhead next to TK-4793, and he lets his gaze fall upon the trooper. "Loosen up, Trooper. Relax. You look like you have a stick up your ass," he says, grinning and patting the trooper on his shoulder. Fleming turns then to exchange looks between Cantrell and Tanis. "Petty chatting like this in front of the prisoner will not aide in the questioning. The both of you have already spoiled my first efforts. Now, I'd love to give you both a detailed run down on interrogation techniques that work, but for now, either quiet down, or observe the operation via the security feed." Korynn's eyes look from Tanis to Cantrell, malice stirring in his expression in the face of what, to him, seems to be lack of discipline. He waits patiently now, to see their responses, before beginning the operation. And still more of the Imperials come! Will the relentless onslaught forced upon Sandor's eyes ever relent, or will the man simply capitulate before ever being confronted by what they have in store for him? Most of the words spoken around him don't seem to hold any real meaning outside of their undertones, but one in particular causes Sandor's attention to immediately shoot towards Tanis. He'd tried to hide it as best as he could during the initial interrogation, but caution has been thrown out the window, and for a second Sandor's eyes go fairly wide at the mention of Ai'kani, believing that whatever is being said about her will be something terrible. But, this turns out not to be the case - not yet, at least. A smile forms on Cantrell face as the ISB official speaks, offering him a slight nod. "We will assist in any way we are able to. Just get the job done." He finishes the sentence with a growl, gesturing to Tanis and TK-4792 to follow over towards him a few feet away from Sandor and Korynn. "By all means, Corporal, this show is yours." Cantrell motions to Sandor with his hand, folding his arms across his chest. TK disregards Tanis' comment about relaxing. He was relaxed. Standing guard over a restrained and drugged prisoner was about as relaxing a job as a stormtrooper could ask for. Briefly, when Korynn reprimands Tanis and Cantrell, TK entertains the thought that perhaps some others could perhaps do with a little less relaxation. But the thought is gone as soon as it arrives and his attention is returned to Sandor. Cantrell has just looked at you. Sometimes Tanis misses being in the 988th Special Ops Company. At least there the soldiers had...personality. The world of the Stormtrooper Legions were entirely different. Case in point, TK-4792. Tanis just shrugs and looks over to a man with plenty of personality: good old Master Sergeant Cantrell, and offers him a smile. At least he's smart enough to keep his mouth shut at Korynn's verbal abuse. Perhaps Cantrell knows his limits after all... "Sorry, Agent Fleming. But we did do a lot of hard work - we got him here in the first place. I think you could show a little respect for that, huh? It wasn't easy..." A high-speed car chase through the Coruscant skylines, jumping from car to car. Damn right it wasn't easy. Tanis just shrugs, though. He's probably said too much already. So, he just sighs, sucks up his pride, and looks at Sandor, still feeling some sympathy. Maybe some Re-Education would do the former sniper some good... Agent Fleming nods his head, the malice in his eyes stayed as Cantrell and Tanis respect his wishes. He cants his head toward the latter and replies in a sterile voice, "You serve the Empire well." That's high respect coming from an ISB agent. He then turns toward Sandor, his cold and sterile expression lingering upon the prisoner quietly for more than a few moments. "Betraying the glory of the Empire, and gallivanting with the Jedi." He shakes his head from side to side, as he moves to put himself in view of Woden's eyes. "Clearly you are not much of a sabaac player, now are you?" As he speaks, his meticulous eyes begin searching Sandor's face and hands for the smallest, most minute sign of a reaction to his words, as if he were a surgeon pricking a nerve and watching with six eyes to find the reaction. "What?", Sandor repeats, just as weakly as he had earlier, the transition between asking Tanis the question and asking Korynn being relatively seamless. Just what is Fleming getting at, asking a man who had won second place in a sabacc game just the other day if he's a good player? Of course, the fact that the ISB Agent cannot make the distinction between what Sandor knows and has done and his records doesn't even enter the soldier's mind, and surely doesn't make it's way onto his lips, which are kept sealed as much as possible. Even in the altered state of the Bavo Six, or perhaps especially in that state, Sandor knows just what the man is supposed to be doing. And the idea simply terrifies him. In the many years of service Cantrell has in the Empire and the countless amount of people he's helped capture, he's never actually stayed to see one get interrogated. Throwing a menacing glance at Tanis for him to shut up, he returns his gaze towards Sandor. The poor bastard; he would've made a fine soldier in the Empire. One that more than likely would rival himself, had he not decide to turn his back to the Empire. Letting out a sigh, he reaches into his utility belt and reveals a pack of Sullustan cigarettes, his personal favorite. Grabbing hold of one, he offers the pack to Tanis. "This ought to be interesting." He says quietly, trying not to interrupt the ISB agent from doing his job. "Trust me, Sergeant. I definitely wouldn't want to be in the traitor's spot after the stories I’ve heard." Tanis takes the pack into his hand and pulls one of the cigarettes out. He's never had Sullustan cigarettes before. They've been in abundance ever since the Empire conquered the planet last year, but he never really thought to try an alien cigarette. He's always been on the high human culture. Nevertheless, it doesn't hurt to try them. He tucks the cigarette between his lips and offers the pack to TK-4792, but quickly realizes the folly in that the stormtrooper is still in his helmet. Shrugging, he hands the pack back over to Cantrell and looks around for a lighter. "Got a light?" he asks, trying to take his attention off the ongoing interrogation and thoughts of ISB and their methods. He's heard stories, too, after all... best to not talk about them here. Not with an agent in plain sight. He looks away from Sandor and Korynn, and sighs. "So... you have to tell me, where did you get that armor?" Just as Korynn had expected... the hallucinogenic Bavo Six injection is running at full force. Woden wasn't able to even comprehend such a complicated dialogue, and the slightest of sneers crosses the interrogator's face. "You are a stain, Sandor Woden," he speaks, his words quiet and calm, as if each word were absolute truth. If the drug works as it should, the prisoner should be as susceptible to suggestion as he is to answering questions. "You are a mark of disgrace to the galaxy. Your life is empty and nothing without loyalty. And that is why you will believe every word I speak, and obey every request I give. Do you understand?" Sandor understands, but the phrases no longer make sense - coming from an ISB Agent, they likely never would have, either. Loyalty, duty, disgrace; all are things that Sandor knows better than the back of his hand, yet something doesn't feel right about hearing them mentioned. Still, however, many of the words are so direct that he knows exactly what they mean, and at the fact that he truly is a disgrace to all of the units he was once part of, to the medals he'd worn, and even to the training systems that had taught him to soldier at the very beginning hangs upon the wounded prisoner's features. Shamed, Sandor's head turns toward the floor, unable to look at his former comrades any longer. Almost immediately, Fleming takes two long, fast strides toward Sandor. His left hand emerges, and clenches tightly around the defector's chin, fingers digging just so far into the skin between the prisoner's jaw and lower teeth that he'll cause sufficient pain without leaving any marks or signs of damage. In this method he lifts Sandor's head until he is at least facing Korynn head on... whether the prisoner will meet his gaze is up to the prisoner. "Look at me," he hisses with a feral voice. "And answer me. Do you understand?" His Coruscanti voice is layered with acid. The hissing, yet still authoritarian voice prompts Sandor into action, as does the fear of just what the ISB man will do if he doesn't comply. Red marks exist in several places on Sandor's face, as well as a bit of recently dried blood here and there, traces of a less precise approach having been utilized earlier on. "Yes," the traitor admits, his eyes still avoiding Tanis as though the former SpecOps soldier is infected with the Dacan virus, or something equally grisly. TK had personality. While a clone, he was still able to think independently. But he was on duty and that meant, for him, that the job came first. Glancing at the offered cigarettes, the trooper shakes his head. With the helmet, he wouldn't be able to smoke if he wanted. Straightening in his place at the door, he turns back to the interrogation. It was the first one that he had witnessed and it was quite something to see. "Good," replies Fleming, who lightens up on the pressure, providing the prisoner with positive reinforcement for his obedience. "Now tell me of your involvement with the Jedi named Ai'kani." It is a simple request, and Korynn keeps his hand firmly positioned at Sandor's chin, as if to remind the prisoner of who now has authority and control over the prisoner's well being. "I.. it," Sandor begins, nervous beyond reason, and struggling with what he's saying at all. Even with the Bavo Six, this is one subject he knows is a bad thing to mention, especially so soon after Cantrell had informed him of that very fact, prematurely. The prisoner shakes his head slightly, coming to a conclusion that doesn't sit well with the ominous presentation arrayed in front of him. "I don't want to," the soldier replies, in a meek, cracking tone, one that the soldier of the New Republic doesn't recall having used in his entire life. And with just those few words, Korynn suddenly seems so much bigger than he had before. On the contrary, Sandor had just told Korynn much, much more than the prisoner may realize. He lifts his head in a slow, almost understanding nod. "Because the Jedi and your marine friends have poisoned your mind," he clarifies. Fleming releases his grip on the prisoner's chin, and turns about address those standing behind him. "Get a prisoner's jumpsuit," he says with authority. "The prisoner must be cleansed, and seeing himself garbed in the outfit of the enemy will not help him to be cured." He then turns to Tanis and instructs, "Begin removing the prisoner's uniform." Sandor will be humiliated. "It was a gift from the Grand Admiral himself." Cantrell takes a slow, long drag of his cigarette, brushing off the shoulder pauldron. He smiles fondly of the Mandalorian skull emblazoned on it. "For my service." A grimace forms on the Mandalorian's face, seeing how fast Sandor is spiraling into submission. It's quickly replaced with a grin. That's what he gets for shooting the Master Sergeant. "Good... he's breaking.." He says to himself, reaching over for a nearby chair and plopping down on it. Might as well get comfortable, since this might take awhile. A gift from Kreldin? Tanis whistles, impressed by the armor - and the fact that Cantrell was awarded so. "Lucky you... what'd you do to get that, eh?" he asks, obviously intrigued. Perhaps it was that whole mess on Ord Trasi. Or the operation on Coruscant. Or Cantrell's work in the Neo-Imperial Movement. Could have been a ton of things... from what little Tanis knows, he does know Cantrell has had a long history with the Grand Admiral. What a brown noser. Itching his nose, Tanis hands the cigarette pack back to Cantrell and continues to search his pockets for a lighter, figuring Cantrell would recognize the sign and give him one to use, as the cigarette is still unlit. He has distanced himself from the interrogation, not having the guts to see his old friend broken down and humiliated by the agent. Unfortunately, the agent calls for him, and he responds, like a good soldier. "Yeah, right. Be right back," he says, cursing that he still doesn't have a light. He steps away and moves over to the chair, starting to untie him to make it easier to remove the uniform. "Sorry about this, old friend..." Still partially tied, Sandor can't exactly do much physically, and really wouldn't be able to in any case, given just how many people are around him. Perhaps with a weapon, the soldier would find the odds to be a little better, but even then, the greatest of the many fears that now cloud his mind is being unable to return to the New Republic, unable to see Ai'kani again. Unfortunately for him, this is also the most likely fear to actually transpire, for the moment. "Enemy..", he echoes, the powerful drug having had little effect on the traitor's absolutely nasty headache. "Yes," he whispers. TK-4792 has disconnected. A prisoner jumpsuit. Cantrell can't help but to chortle at the thought of Sandor in a prisoner's jumpsuit. Revenge is sweet, he thinks to himself. Cantrell does have respect for Sandor's combat abilities, but he's nothing more than a spineless coward in the eyes of the Mandalorian. He watches as Sandor twists in pain, satisfied that the drug is really kicking in. He nods to Tanis, handing him the lighter just before he's tasked to assist the ISB agent. Tanis's comment is duly noted by Fleming, though he ignores it for now. He begins to assist in the almost ceremonial disrobing of Sandor, leaving him cold in the cell before he begins to assist in getting the prisoner in a more fitting jumpsuit. He takes the Republic uniform and begins folding it over itself. "This will go to the Admiral," he indicates, and turns to set the folded uniform down near the wall before returning to the prisoner. "Very good, then. Now, tell me... why don't you want to tell me about the Jedi named Ai'kani?" Silently, Sandor wonders how he could have not noticed just how cold the brig is before, but it's a thought that he neither vocalizes or holds for very long, as he's assailed by a new question. He half-opens his mouth to answer, when the level of thought it takes to make a response at all leads the traitor onto a crucial issue. Really, Sandor shouldn't be telling him at all, but he doesn't realize that there are more ways to make a response, and just hearing Ai'kani's name uttered by an agent of the ISB sends shivers through the man's body. And not all of them are of fear or guilt, either; no, the traitor is visibly irritated at the question, at Korynn's usage of the name at all. It's probably not the best idea given the situation, but with the drug affecting Sandor's judgment, and the emotion and desire present to commit an act of aggression against the agent in front of him, something snaps in the soldier's grasp of self-preservation. Since it doesn't appear anyone is holding him down, and that Tanis has just finished untying the soldier so as to allow the disrobing to take place at all, the man surges forward and attempts to cover the meter or so distance to Korynn, and lets loose a fist aimed at the agent's face. Notably, Sandor's left arm hangs relatively unused during this act, still hurting from the wound to the shoulder so near it. Tanis did what he was told; he untied Sandor's bounds, and went to work on removing his soldier's uniform. It was bloody, sweaty, and down right filthy; and not so much filthy because Sandor got it dirty, but because it is the uniform of a terrorist. He prepares to go place the uniform down some where, to hand it off to Kreldin at the appropriate time, and to retrieve a prisoner's uniform from the storage room when Sandor makes his valiant attack on the ISB agent. Tanis is too slow to react however; he can only watch as Sandor lunges forward with his fist, a sense of pride building up in him as he watches his former friend, who, despite all odds and being drugged and wounded, has the will left to carry on the fight. If all the Republicans were like that... Korynn's face becomes the impact point of a well-placed attack, and his head jerks sideways with the impact. The force of the blow throws him back two steps before he can regain his composure. Not many have ever seen Fleming take a shot like that, you know. By the time he's regained his footing, the two CompForce troopers posted outside the cell have begun barging in, their stun batons wielded and ready to beat the prisoner back into submission. A smirk appears on Fleming's face, in spite of the blood that begins to trickle from the corner of his lip. Sandor's world spins around him, yet somehow he manages to keep his balance long enough to land the hit on Agent Fleming's face. While it definitely hurts for his hand to connect so hard against a solid object, it's the first pain that Sandor has experienced since his capture that genuinely feels good. Seeing the additional troopers, which seem a bit more efficient and terrible than they may actually be from the drugs, Sandor knows that he doesn't have much time. Shuffling forward, leaning forward as he does so to bring some of his own weight into a slight advantage, Sandor throws another punch Korynn's way, again from the right, unable to simply stand about and await his fate. The Mandalorian watches quietly as the interrogation moves on, finishing the remainder of the cigarette and dropping it on the floor, his boots steps on it with a crunch. He chuckles a bit watching Tanis change him as if he were a helping a child get dress, shaking his head in disbelief. "This is pathetic." He mumbles to himself. Ooh...the sorry sod has some fight still left in him, Cantrell thinks to himself, watching Sandor taking a swing at Korynn, and connecting. Inside of him he's glad; he's never been fond of the ISB, so a little bit of him cheers for the traitor. But then again, he is a traitor after all, and attacking an Imperial official. Getting up from his chair slowly, he watches Sandor make another move over to the ISB agent. With a couple of quick steps, he unslings his rifle and jabs it into the back of his head with great force. Dazed to begin with, and reeling from so many other injuries, the cheap shot is enough to bring the traitor down, and into unconsciousness. It's only by very good fortune that he happens to land almost perfectly, not hitting either of his heads against the floor, nor any other vulnerable extremities that he'll have need of in life, if he does survive this ordeal. But, if Sandor thought that the headache he'd had until losing consciousness was bad, he certainly has a surprise in store for himself next he awakens. Korynn manages to bring his forearm up to deflect the traitor's attempt at a second shot, and though the bone in his arm will be sore for the next two days, it'll do him better than to have two bruises on his face. He observes how Sandor is taken down with a reluctance in his gaze, and takes a step forward to inspect the unconscious traitor. Fleming's tongue makes a slight escape from his mouth, licking at the blood that seeps from the corner of his lip and drawing it back inside to keep his face clear of the red liquid. "Then that's that," he replies. "The traitor will clearly need to undergo a more intense procedure if he's going to be broken effectively." Fleming seems to be ignoring the pain that brings a slight swelling to his face. "Then let's have him taken to Kreldin." Grand Admiral Kreldin's Office - - SSD Malevolence A lavish, large and lively office, a stark contrast to the dull surroundings of the rest of the Imperial star dreadnought. Upon first entering through the double, wooden doors (imported from Kuat, no less), visitors are greeted to a small corridor lined with pieces of art from through the galaxy - mostly alien - until it reaches yet another double-set of wooden doors that lead into the office proper. Office, however, may be an incorrect word to use to describe the interior of the room. The floor is carpeted, made from materials gathered on Mutanda, a very comfortable that adds to the calm, pleasant mood of the room. The walls are painted a pleasant hue of light red and lined with all sorts of decorations ranging from art, awards and citations, and animal prizes won in various hunts throughout the galaxy. Another display, located to the center of the right wall, is a case in which Kreldin's military medals and ribbons lie. Literally dozens upon dozens of military decorations that span from Kreldin's service in the Republic during the Clone Wars to his days as an Imperial Grand Admiral. To the center of the room, towards the upper wall, is the desk itself. A large throne-like seat rests behind the desk, with four more seats arranged in front of the desk for visitors. Behind the desk built into the wall is a fireplace, above it a large painting of Emperor Palpatine standing in front of the Imperial starburst. => Danik Obvious exits: ut leads to Audience Chamber - SSD Malevolence. Waiting outside patiently is Corporal Fleming. The bruise on his face has been tended to, leaving only the slightest of marks... his medical training is not limited to making people suffer, after all. Danik watches as the ISB agent enters his office, just as Cantrell and the three Imperial generals exit. He offers a nod of his head to the agent, slightly curious by the bruise that now marks his face. Sandor? Definitely. Who else? This brings a smile to his face, knowing that his young protégé still had the willpower left in him. Perhaps the rebels haven't completely turned him. There's still hope. "Corporal Fleming, thank you for coming. Please, take a seat," he says, offering one of his four seats to the agent. "We have much to talk about." Fleming nods to the Admiral's aide, and turns to enter the Admiral's Office. As is usual, Fleming walks with a crisp step, his hands clasped behind his back. Once he reaches a respectful distance from the Admiral, he stops and bows his head in a crisp saluting fashion, a tone of respect in his eyes and the mannerisms in how he moves. "Admiral," he replies in greeting, and turns to take a seat on a chair nearby, removing his gloves in another sign of respect. He tucks the gloves into his belt and turns to face Danik, folding his hands together. "Indeed," he replies. "I presume you're curious about my initial interrogation of Woden?" "Absolutely," Danik quickly replies, sitting up in his throne and resting his arms on the desk. "I see he's as troublesome as ever, hm?" Danik remarks, grinning as he looks at the bruise upon the agent's face. "Very disheartening. That man had a lot of potential. So much, in fact, that I gave him two chances and pulled him off execution row," he says, sighing as he now regrets ever letting Woden off after defecting in the past. "So... enlighten me, Agent." The slightest hint of a sneer shows on Fleming's face. "Oh, he was quite easy to break until I brought up the Jedi you had mentioned, named Ai'kani. As soon as I began inquiring about her, his countenance shifted. That is going to be the issue that faces us next. I chose not to press the issue further... Cantrell was forced to take matters into his own hands when Woden got violent. I believe a reconditioning could be quite effective, but in order to glean information about the Jedi is going to take some time and creativity." Danik either doesn't detect the sneer, or he doesn't bother to acknowledge it. If the Agent has a problem with it, he might just find himself in a Re-Education camp. But, Danik puts on his familiar, warm smile. "It likely will, I agree. However, I do not anything such as that done until I've had a chance to speak to him. I don't want him harmed any further, either; you leave that to me, Agent," he says, bringing his hand to his chin and rubbing it. "However, Agent, this news does shed some light on the issue - he only got violent when Ai'kani was brought up, hm? Why do you think this is so? When do we get our most fierce?" he asks, leaning back in his throne, trying to put the clues together, though he may already have the answer. He just looks to the Agent for confirmation. The sneer is now gone. Matters are at hand, and they are most crucial. The Jedi are involved, after all, their stain still smearing the galaxy. "That won't be a problem, Sir," he replies, acknowledging Danik's request. His hands remain folded before him, and he barely moves... minimal movements dictate his very attitude. "Clearly there's a friendship involved with the Jedi, perhaps something even more than a friendship. An initial scan of Woden's recent service duties shows that he had entered the Jedi's cell when she was in our custody. Not long after this, his defection came into being. I would suspect, Admiral, that the two are connected." Danik slides his hand through his graying hair, nodding his head as the thoughts flow through his mind. "Right you are, Agent, right you are..." He almost forgot that Sandor's defection came almost right after Ai'kani escaped from custody. It makes too much sense. So, Danik makes up his mind. He'll see how far he can put Sandor to use against the Jedi. "Very well, Agent, I have a plan. I'm going to use Sandor as bait for Ai'kani. We'll see if she takes it. If our suspicions are correct, she will. Contact the local system cell on Coruscant... tell them to get into contact with Ai'kani by any means possible. Let her know Grand Admiral Danik Kreldin has Sandor Woden, and if she wants him back she'll have to meet me." He folds his hands on his desk and nods his head. "It should work. These Jedi have desire to save everyone. So even if she isn't as connected to him as we suspect, I believe she'll take it, regardless... what do you think, Agent?" The traces of a smile show on Fleming's face, and he nods his head. "I think it's a good plan. My only concern is, if we are not correct in our reading of Woden's response, we might incur a Jedi response other than what we're expecting. This isn't a bad thing, per say, but we should be prepared for potential contingencies. Use whatever intelligence we have on the Jedi to prepare for all possible outcomes." "You let me deal with the Jedi, Agent. Just do your job," Danik says, leaning back in his chair. He'll be more than ready for the Jedi. He closes his eyes and lets out a sigh, reaching out with his feelings in an attempt to pick up Darth Malign's familiar sense. He can certainly feel Vadim, hidden deep within the Malevolence, but Malign... where is he? He would make a good ally should the situation with Ai'kani get more difficult. Namely more Jedi getting involved. Jedi with the name Skywalker. But Kreldin is confident it'll work out the way he wants it to; his plans usually do. "Thank you for your time, Agent. That'll be all for now; have Woden brought to my office within the hour, and get the message out to Ai'kani." His throne revolves around, facing away from Korynn and back to a view screen in front of the fireplace. "It will be done, Admiral," replies Fleming, who then rises from his chair. "Glory to the Emperor," he states, before turning and walking crisply toward the door.
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