Bad Company

[Cryax Bane]

Location: Coruscant Tourism and Visitor's Center

The war between the Jedi and the Sith, still raging throughout the mid rim, was extremely lucrative for the criminal masterminds of the Coruscant Rotary Club. That is if one knew how to exploit the sudden influx of refugees to Jedi sympathizers, or in the CRC’s case, plants disguised as them. Cryax took the turbolift down to the labyrinthine lower levels of the Coruscant Tourism and Visitor’s Center. His long-suffering Bothan assistant Frab had informed him that a new batch of sentient products had arrived at the center, which like many of the CRC’s business was a well-secreted front for a slaving ring. Once a shipment arrive, first the Force-sensitive ones would be segregated from the rest, drugged and sent to the Happyland Funeral Home and Morgue for basement organ-legging. Then, the ones suspected to harbor no Force powers would be kept at the center for reselling on the Coruscant black market or sold to Sith Lords. The CRC’s slaving business was lucrative on the Sith fortress world. Sentient beings could be used for everything from experiments to fodder for training sessions. Surprisingly the Chiss’ own brother had begun purchasing his wares for the latter reasons. Along with Sage’s promotion to the Hand of the Dark Lord, also came an eschewing of his own personal hang-ups about slavery. It turned out the younger Bane had not only drank the One Sith koolaid. He was bathing in it. Cryax had figured it was just a matter of time.

The Chiss crime lord was merely making an appearance for a quick quality control inspection. If it turned out the slavers had sold him a bill of goods, giving him disease and decrepitation instead of the healthy specimens paid for with the CRC’s blood money, there would be hell to pay. Or if not hell, then the Sith. The two were practically one and the same, no?

His footfalls tapping ominously on the floor, Cryax prowled through the dim corridors. Anguished wails came from nearby cells, as cacophony of different alien languages all crying out to be freed. Cryax stopped at a cell and peered in, luminous red eyes hollowed from lack of sleep. His gaze ran over the group of huddled bodies and alighted on one in particular. A tanned young man with emerald-green eyes, dressed in the robes of a dancer. The most intriguing feature that jumped out at him: he was a strikingly handsome creature, making him exceedingly difficult to to ignore.

“You," the Chiss barked, jabbing at finger in the direction of the young captive.

“What’s your name?”

[member="Onas"]

 

[Blair]

Onas did not know where he was or how long he'd been there, but he hated every last second of it. Being held in a dark cell for what seemed like days without end on whatever planet he was felt more like hell than anything that could be desribed. The screams, the cries for help or a quick death. All of it was tourture for him. He wished he at least knew where he was. The ship that brought him had no windows or anything else that could help him figure out where this place was. And, by extension, help him find out how far he was from his family. But for all he knew they were all the way across the galaxy, and he would never see them again. He held out hope but give his situation it wasn't looking good. And all because he tried to make a better life for him, his parents, and the rest of the performers of the little caravan that were being blackmailed by thier employer; the same bastard that put him here. Every time he slept he had nightmares that he would wake up to see were real. he was still in this cage and he felt he might never get out. ​

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Today, however, things were different. He was at the back of his cell huddled with his head on his keens with his arms wrapped around them. His clothing was starting to get a bit dirty and his feet were even more so; since he did not where shoes. When he heard the voice he looked up, his eyes peering over his arms with a defiant look, as the blue man asked his name. His eyes were almost bruning as he stared at the man. ​

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"What's it matter to you?" he retorted and asked at the same time. "I'm just like everyone else here: a slave."​

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[member="Cryax Bane"]​

 

[Cryax Bane]

A blue-black eyebrow quirked at the young man's response. It wasn't terribly surprising to encounter a rebellious attitude here and there among the captives, especially the Force-sensitive ones. Some just didn't fall in line until some sense was beaten into them. The Chiss swiveled his head to droids who were lurking just out of the prisoners' vantage points and gave them a nod.

"I ask the questions around here," he reminded the boy. As he spoke, a couple of beaten-up DD-S1 Droids, leftover from Cryax's Red Ravens days, opened the door, zapping bodies left and right with a cattle prod. One of the droids clamped its metal hand around the boy's arm and dragged him out of the cell. Once outside the cell, the closed with an unceremonious hiss. Metal arms clamped around the young slave as he was whirled in front of the Chiss and made to face the crime lord directly. The bottomless pools of red looked eerily vacant.

Cryax snatched the cattle prod out of a droid hand and hissed at the boy. He stuck the prod against the young man's side. One flick of the switch and he would get a jolt, but for now it merely jutted into his flesh.

"It matters because I said it matters. Now tell me your name."

[member="Onas"]

 

[Blair]

The moment the doors began to open Onas stood and braced himself, thinking the chiss was going to make a move. Instead he sent his droids instead. Onas tried to fight back but, of course, he didn't stand a chance against their metal arms that clamped against his skin. He stuggled even as he was dragged out before being forced in front of the chiss. He continuted to look at him with bruning eyes before feelign the sting of the prod against his side. He didn't scream but gave a painful hiss that almost built into a groan. It hurt despite being on a low setting, enough to where he had to catch his breath. He looked back to the chiss, still angry, before deciding to answer. ​

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"It's Onas." he almost spat. "Happy now?" ​

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[member="Cryax Bane"]​

 

[Cryax Bane]

"That's better," grunted Bane, carefully inspecting the captive as if he were livestock. His unhygienic state elicited a pang of sympathy from the Chiss, but it was gone as soon as it came. The boy had been put in the wing containing those thought to be free of the Force. However mistakes were sometimes made. The last time the Chiss tried to take home a Force sensitive as a personal slave, he paid dearly for his idiocy. Cryax had become increasingly complacent around him, erroneously thinking that drugging the young man would be enough to keep him subdued enough to remove his Force suppression collar. It was a mistake that almost cost him his life, especially since, despite his boyish good looks, the young man turned out to be not only a powerful Jedi Knight, but also a clawdite. But Nejaa Niynx would be a story for another day.

The question remained. Should he take that chance again?

Cryax scratched his chin. One more look at the young man's angry but beautiful green eyes almost sealed the deal for him.

"Ok, then Onas. What can you do?" he asked giving off a long dramatic sigh. It was paired with a look that told the boy that he'd better answer carefully.

[member="Onas"]

 

[Blair]

There were plenty of answers Onas was willing to give the chiss in respons eot his question. All of them would likley end up with him getting shocked again. Or worse. He had to give the truth at least. Maybe that would put him in a better position to get out of this place at least. From there he would have to play things by ear. He sighed, lowering his head, before saying "Like the guy said. I dance. And I do some other stuff, like juggling. Used to crack jokes. I was a gypsy after all. I did what I needed to make money. So unless you need me to just toss apples in front of you while dancing with a tamborine, I doubt I'm your pick, blue boy."​

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[member="Cryax Bane"]​

 

[Cryax Bane]

Zap!

There were many things that spurned Cryax to use the cattle prod on the insolent little whelp, and someone calling him "blue boy" was right up there at the top of that very long list. Bane detested that name, or any other taunt that mocked his skin tone. It was a low blow. How else was he supposed to take it?

"Well all that dancing and juggling obviously didn't leave you any time for working on your intellect." A cold glare flashed over his face. A tight jaw worried itself over clenched teeth. Honestly, he'd killed people for less. Cryax sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You really aren't all that smart are you?"

Perhaps the cattle prod would shock the smart-ass attitude right out of the boy. Or maybe honesty was the best policy. Onas needed to know how much worse his fate could be.

"I have use for a personal servant," Cryax explained. "While dancing isn't an altogether useless skill. It's not exactly what I had in mind. If you indeed had to do anything for money, I'm willing to bet it's not the road less traveled for you."

He gave the boy an arrogant smirk and continued. "Or I could send you to a One Sith laboratory. I hear that trepanning is all the rage with the more experimental Sith Lords these days."

It wasn't really a choice. Onas was going home with him one way or another. But at least the slave would have some context.

[member="Onas"]

 

[Blair]

This time the shock was enough to make him help a little. His body went weak from it as he heard the chiss say how he wanted him for a personal servant. The whole comment about not being smart could've had another coy remark, but he refreained if it meant avoiding another shock. Though the comment he made about doing things for moment had given Onas cause to give him a poisonus look. After that he made it clear what the choices were. Either be a servant or a lab experiment. Given the fact he knew how horrifying the Sith were when it came to experimenting on people it was clear he didn't have any real choice. He sighed, lowering his head again, making it clear he agreed he would be his servant; despite wanting to spit in his face for the sake of it.​

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[member="Cryax Bane"]​

 

[Cryax Bane]

Cryax reached out with his thumb and forefinger and titled Onas chin up so that the young man was forced to look at him.

"Wise choice, Onas," the Chiss said with a cold, arrogant tone. "Trust me. You'll be thanking me someday."

Cryax probably could have made a "scared straight" Holo film showing all the horrible things that Sith Lords did to their slaves in lurid three-dimensional details. Common practices were using them as targets in their Acoylte's lessons on mind tricks and illusions, testing bio weaponry on them, infecting them with viruses that casually rolled the dice on whether or not they would survive. The horrors were endless. At least the victims of Cryax's organ-legging business sometimes survived. Not all of the victims of the CRC's morgue operation were killed once the organs were harvested. The ones who could survive without some of their original parts, were sometimes drugged, bound, and dumped in the Coruscant sewers. Sure, they had to run from the cthon hordes in a post-surgery state, but they still stood a fighting chance.

"Get him out of here," Cryax barked.

A jab in the arm would come, and the room would sway. Then an inky blackness would overtake the slave.

[member="Onas"]

 

[Blair]

As the chiss held his head up Onas still gave him a stern look. He may have been his slave but he wasn't going to break that easily. Before being knocked out of the slavers put a bracelt around his left ankle. Onas looked down to see it was some sort of tracker before being hit from behind. As he passed out the slavers explained to the chiss it would help keep Onas "under control". And then everything went black. The world seemed to spin around while he was passed out. No knowing of where or when. All he knew was that he escaped one hell, only to be brought into another it seemed. ​

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[member="Cryax Bane"]​

 

[Blair]

Double Post