Sith Imperial Prison Labour Camp 'MIF-BDG-0762' , "The Beast"
Several days before the Battle Of Mandalore
"All previous experiments have proven near fatal on any subject with heightened force sensitivity, my lord." The Sith Imperial scientist sounded out as he slowly filled a syringe with a vicious black fluid present within a durasteel canister.
"Speaking without being spoken to, again - I beg of you to inquire of the consequences. Do what you have been told." The Kaleesh snapped at the man who could only muster filling the syringe with the thick, black fluid in reply to him.
Strapped to the table a Jedi, wayward and far from any semblance of home, familiarity another syringe was fixed into a hydraulic arm attached to the bed. Four of them all precision aligned with laser-light guiding them toward specific veins and arteries within the subject's form who laid against the metallic surgical bed. The back was leaned forward from a completely flat position if only so his limbs could be better fixed to the structure with metallic clamps.
"Is it ready?" The Kaleesh asked, a voice peering through the darkness around the blinding florescent light which shined in the Kiffar's face. The Sith was only visible by his gold, corrupted gaze shifting about the darkness.
"Whenever you'd wish, My Lord." The Imperial uttered in begrudging obediance, peering back toward the Kaleesh only to receive a nod of approval from the Sith Lord before two strong arms crossed over his chest. Though the procedure was always a discomforting spectacle - Cyggys seemed content to view each one personally. As much as he could've easily recieved the results from written reports it was all the difference to see them in the flesh. To hear the desperate, fear addled screams - to hear the spinecurling crunch of pain in each of his demented experiments. It was ecstasy - the ultimate feeling of power. To dehumanize and toy with sentient life, it was from this that the chains were broken for Cyggys.
The robotic arms began to slowly lower down toward the Kiffar - inching at a crawling pace. The Jedi was given no reprieve in each passing moment of unnerving anticipation as the unnerving instruments coursed slowly toward's Ryv's flesh.
The loud metallic hiss of the blast door opened to reveal a figure of average height draped in the dress rainment of a Sith-Imperial officer.
"Halt this procedure." A low commanding voice sounded out from the doorway before soon enough the man approached the SIth Lord - the technician padding unto the control panel until the syringes halted not a centimeter from the Jedi's flesh.
"General- You had not made your presence announced or I'd be here to greet you..." The Kaleesh said, feigning a hunch in his back before coughing into one of his hands, eventually clasping them in front of his chest. The outright sinister tone was replaced with a visage of decrepit ignorance.
"I don't care to hear excuses. Your task was completed several days ago and still you operate unauthorized." The General spoke- imposing himself on the Sith who may very well had been able to eviscerate him where he stood. Fearless. With a motion of his hand the technician began to slowly disarm the array of syringes and medical instruments hovering closely toward the jedi.
"I- I am most sorry General I just am not one to waste- " The Kaleesh was cut off to a gloved finger raised toward his gaze by the commanding officer.
"I will not hear this drivel again. Your assignment is complete - have the serum transported to The Epitaph and be done with it. Am I clear?" The General ordered once more.
"Y-yes of course... what is to be done with this...Jedi?" The Sith Lord inquired, motioning toward the Kiffar who had just had the clamps opened around his limbs.
"A Jedi among Mandalorians - why is he here?" The General inquired once more, arching a brow as he offered a glance in the direction of the Kiffar.
"T-test-" A scraping, guttural cough interupted the Kaleesh as he sought to speak. Likely a self imposed hex to play up a spectacle.
"Test subject- for your directive." The Sith Lord iterated.
"Out- both of you..." The officer ordered only for the Sith Lord to slither out with his technician underling in tow, the blast door hissing closed behind them. With bright, cold fluorescence now sending the room alight the condition of the Jedi could truly be appraised - Irveric narrowing his gaze as he stepped toward the surgical apparatus. A man late in his prime, human and clearly tempered by close scrapes with death he was a man forged from war in its purity.
"And what brought you here, Jedi?" Irveric inquired - addressing Ryv directly.