Never Hide Your Heart
Carry on, my wayward son
The briefing room was dim by design. A circular table cast a soft blue glow upward, illuminating tired faces. Robes, armor, and uniforms shared the same uneasy space. A holoprojector flickered to life at the center, its light catching the sharp edges of tension in the room. A CorSec officer stood at the head of the table. Not young, not old, just worn. His voice carried the clipped precision of someone who had repeated this briefing too many times already.
"Let's not waste time pretending this is routine."
The holoprojector shifted. A rotating image of a man appeared, tall, broad-shouldered, thinning hair, expression unreadable in that way that made it worse.
"Name: Foyet. Human male. Former military, records are fragmented, likely scrubbed. Confirmed kills: thirty-two. Probable count is higher."
The image flickered and crime scenes replaced his face. Not graphic. Not here. But the pattern was unmistakable. "Methodology varies, but the intent does not. Control. Prolonged engagement. Psychological and physical degradation prior to termination."
A pause as the officer looked slightly sick to his stomach. "He enjoys it. The blood... the kill... the pain." Silence settled heavier than the rain outside. The officer gestured, and the display widened, revealing a schematic of a mid-level industrial sector, layered with security routes and data nodes.
"The Digital Dragons picked him up three months ago. Initially as muscle. Since then, he's become… a liability. They're losing control."
A Jedi shifted slightly in the meeting, the faint rustle of robes the only sound. "That's where you come in," the officer continued, looking directly at them now. "And where this gets complicated."
Another command. The projection shifted again, highlighting multiple embedded markers within the structure.
"We have agents inside. CorSec, mostly. Deep cover. One of yours has been embedded for six months."
The image shifted again to show the face of a woman with two-toned hair wearing Jedi robes.
"Katarine Ryiah."
Her name hung in the air like a drawn blade.
"She's worked her way into the inner structure of the organization. Close enough to track Foyet directly. Close enough that if this goes wrong..."
He didn't finish. He didn't need to.
"The plan is extraction," he said instead. "Clean, quiet, and fast. We pull our people before we move on the facility. Their covers remain intact so we can redeploy them elsewhere. No one burns unless we have no choice."
The hologram pulsed, sections of the building highlighted in red. "However… this isn't just a gang hideout." The room seemed to darken, though nothing had changed.
"This structure overlays an older foundation. Sith architecture. Active. We've confirmed movement consistent with Sith Covenant presence."
A subtle shift rippled among the Jedi now, their attention sharpening, something colder settling in.
"So let me be very clear," the officer said, voice tightening. "You're not just walking into a criminal den. You're stepping into a contested Sith site, with a serial killer operating inside it, and multiple undercover agents who cannot be exposed."
He let that settle.
"Timing is everything. If the Dragons realize what's happening, they'll lock the place down. If the Sith intervene, we lose control of the situation entirely. And if Foyet decides to act..."
The hologram flickered back to the man's face. "He won't run and he won't ever stop killing. He can't. It's a need now, driving him like oxygen does for anybody else."
The officer finally stepped back, folding his hands behind him.
"Your window is narrow. Your margin for error is nonexistent."
His gaze swept across the Jedi and the special forces seated, steady and unflinching.
"Get in. Get your people. Get out."
A final pause.
"And if you find Foyet..."
The room seemed to hold its breath.
"...end it."
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