“Glad you are enjoying it” Dyre said to his guest with a nod and taking a seat on the blood splattered crates allowing himself a moment to relax and just be still.
“Wouldn’t say divine but being a soldier can be really boring work and sometimes you just have to find ways to amuse yourself with your work. Official interrogation methods are boring so… some officers when left to their own devices tended to get creative. Surprised you appreciate it though”
After his rather brief respite, Dyre excused himself to go and wipe the blood from his helm, he returned shortly after to find that his men had returned, and that alcohol had been procured. Opening a beer, he began to look over the next team… Lips, Blue Back, Baldy, Nine Fingers The alcohol served to relax him as he watched those around him enjoying themselves with the blood spectacle. He was no showman but if nothing else it saved all present from the monotony of a tradition interrogation.
When he had finished his drink, he tossed away the empty bottle and returned to the center of the room once more placing his helmet on his head.
“Alright everybody time for Team Child Molester to show us what they have!” Soon the game was set. Team Child Molestor would be playing for their right arms, and Dyre moved to the first unfortunate contestant.
“Hello Lips” Dyre said removing the gag and beginning to speak
“You really live up to your name buddy, you have a set of lips that could suck start a star destroyer don’t you” The man said nothing though his angry gaze spoke volumes, he scowled at Dyre.
“Same question Team Batha Rapist had, give me the name of a pedophile who has a holocron.” The man sat saying nothing and only scowled at Dyre. Fifteen seconds passed and still no answer.
“Times running out Lips!” Dyre said with merriment…
“Judges need an answer.” Still the man refused to speak.
“What do you say judges… is he disqualified?” Dyre roared to the troopers who began to cheer in approval.
“Alright” Dyre said turning to the man putting the scattergun to his head. The man instantly began to speak but was cut off by the heavy blast of the firearm shattering his skull and sending his brain matter splattering into the wall behind him.
“Disqualified!” Dyre shouted the echo of the blast still ringing. The audience laughed at the spectacle, seemingly delighting in the man’s bloody fate.
“Next up” Dyre said placing the firearms barrel beneath the Chiss’ chin and forcing him to look up
“Is Blue Back… lets hope you have better luck than Lips, nobody likes getting disqualified.” The chiss shook his head vigorously indicating ‘no’.
“Glad to hear it… so Blue Back… same question give me the name of a sick bastard with a holocron.” He pulled the gag from the Chiss’ mouth. He then began to speak.
“Semaj Alefantis…” He replied quickly, his voice showed more than a hint of desperation.
“He runs a restaurant not far form here, attracts lots of the ‘elite’ political sorts. No idea if he has a holocron but it wouldn’t surprise me. Guy has his hands in all sorts of shady matters and will do anything for enough money. I have seen the guy buy children before too.”
Dyre nodded
“Not bad… not bad… what do the judges say.” He looked to the troopers.
“Semaj Alefantis the Restauranteur”
After a remarkably brief review period the troopers gave a thumbs up and one spoke
“Guy is clearly into some shady shit and seems to have ties to a lot of politicians. Apparently the media has been trying to get a story on him for years.”
“Well done Blue Back… but the game isn’t over yet.” Dyre clapped the Chiss on the back as he spoke.
“Looks like we have a tie and that means it is time for a sudden death round… emphasis on sudden and death where we will determine which team will get to walk away with the grand prize. Not suddenly dying!” The men cheered as he moved around the room, ungagging the prisoners as he did so.
“The rules are simple. Each team can work together but each contestant must give us a single answer to the question. If the judges accept your answer your team scores a point, if they don’t then you are instantly disqualified from recieving the grand prize. At the end, the team with the most points wins. Simple enough. Go ahead and take a few minutes to converse among yourselves want to make sure you guys are properly ready.”
If the realization that a sociopath had ordered them tied down and forced them to answer ludicrous question in a sick parody of a gameshow was not terrifying enough to get them to comply; then said sociopath merrily reloading his weapon in clear sight of them certainly was. The teams began to discuss among themselves possible names for them to give with the knowledge that at least half of them were going to die. Dyre took this time to stretch his arms and work out a kink in his neck as he paced the room, scattergun in hand. At last it seemed as if the conversation had died down. He looked to each team and verified with them to confirm that they were ready. Then looked to his men.
“Ready to render judgement boys?” They nodded and made similar gestures to confirm that they were.
“First up we have Wookie Legs. Or should I say Wookie Leg now” he chuckled.
“I trust you have a proper answer for me this time, so why don’t you tell our panel of judges what you have come up with.”
“Sal Mettik. A Devoronian pirate who bases himself here.” He says, his voice weak due to pain and blood loss.
“Operates in sith space and is known to haul slaves.” Dyre repeated his answer so his men could hear it and pressed the scattergun firmly to the prisoners forehead.
The troopers conversed for several minutes, apparently taking a while to reach a consensus. Ultimately though thumbs ups were given and Dyre removed the shotgun from the man’s forehead.
“Well done Wookie Leg. Looks like the last round put some fight in you. That puts team Bantha Rapist at two points. Now onto Freckles. What do you say buddy? Do you have an answer for our judges?” As Dyre spoke he placed the end of the barrel against the terrified man’s forehead.
“Savogn Milesk wealthy landowner lives in a rural area far east of here. Extremely rich, my first job was taking her a package, kids were all over the place.” ‘Freckles’ said, his voice gave away the fear which gripped him.
“Alright Judges you heard ‘Freckles’, is Savogn Milesk a valid answer.” He looks to the troopers awaiting a response.
After a brief review, the general consensus appeared to be no and one of the troopers stood and talked.
“Lady just has a hundred has more than one hundred grandchildren and foster children. She is a sweet old lady who posts cookie recipes on the holonet."
Without a moment of hesitation Dyre pulled the trigger and Freckles face became a crater splattering the room in a thin red mist.
“Wasn’t ‘Freckles’ day was it, Creepy Mustache Guy? You did well last time but will your luck hold? Tell me what you have?” Dyre placed the barrel of the weapon between the man’s eyes and waited for a reply.
“Terrence Erwhim… look him up. No need to say more.” Creepy Mustache guy said loudly and confidently.
Almost immediately the troopers gave a universal thumbs up.
“Well done ‘Creepy Mustache Guy, excellent work. Team Bantha rapist is sitting at three points. Now the final member of the team.” Dyre lowered his weapon and moved to a ‘prisoner’ who’s nametag read ‘Tongue’.
“What do you have for me Tongue?” Dyre said his tone almost comforting as he stroked the man’s cheek with the barrel of the scattergun.
The man began to speak but what came out was unintelligible. As he attempted to speak it was obvious that the man’s tongue, whether through accident or genetic defect was absent from his mouth. After almost a minute and a half of what sounded like eerily sexualized grunting Dyre turned to the troopers.
“Well Judges, what’s the verdict on the mating call of a drunk wampa?” A universal thumbs down was immediately given and instantly the prisoner was given a shotgun lobotomy with only the low half of his head remaining connected to his body as he fell limp in the chair.
“Alright, team Bantha Rapist ends their turn with a total of three points. Team Child Molester you can still win.” He crossed the gap between the two teams and placed the scattergun to the throat of the Chiss.
“I think you know what you have to do.”
The Chiss nodded
“Jeremy Scathold, retired politician. Was a scumbag in office and is a scumbag to this day, collects historical relics”
Dyre turned to the men who took several minutes to review the information that was given to them. Apparently though, their research yielded worthwhile results and one said.
“Chiss is right, man has quite a collection and I have never seen a man tied to so many scandals.”
“Well done” Dyre said before moving to the next contestant who’s nametag read ‘Nine Fingers’. Though this name was not entirely correct as only half of one finger was missing. Dyre looked him over before speaking.
“Nine Fingers… great to have you here. Seems like you have had it pretty easy so far. You get this right you tie the game.”
“Umm… Travis Vektr” the man says unsure moving his eyes to ‘Blue Back’ who nodded.
“Professional Gambler owns a penthouse in the fancy part of town.”
“Alright, Travis Vektr the gambler, what do you say judges.” Dyre shouted to the men enthusiastically.
In less than a minute one of the troopers spoke.
“Travis Vektr was taken into custody two days ago in relation to a missing children’s case. His home has been ransacked by the authorities but, he isn’t wrong. ”
“You know what” Dyre said pulling back the firearm and placing a hand on ‘Nine Fingers’ head.
“Congratulation, you are right… on a technicality.” The prisoner sighed, relieved that he would not share the fate of those who had been executed... at least not immediately.
“Lastly we have Baldy” Dyre said as taped the elderly man’s smooth head.
“Right now… the score is tied. You get this right, and you, Blue Back and Nine Fingers get the grand prize otherwise we have to go another round. So tell me Baldy… what is your answer.”
Baldy sighed and held his breath for a moment before answering.
“Bibb Notnilc and Killari Notnilc.”
“You say those names like I should know them.” Dyre said, somewhat confused.
“Who are these people?”
“The Planetary Governor and his wife.” Baldy replied. The man appeared to be forcing himself to breath slowly and calmly.
“Tons of sick bastards in politics”.
“Can’t say I was expecting that one.” Dyre said staring at the man.
“Judges…” he paused turning to face his men.
“Governor Notnilc and spouse?”
What began as a simple search, soon evolved into the troopers digging through conspiracy theories and the wild speculation on political forums. While they searched article after article Dyre turned to Sylvi and shrugged, indicating his boredom with the process taking so long. After what felt like an hour the troopers at last responded. With one standing and nodding.
“Surprisingly, he’s right”.
“Damn” Dyre said taken aback that his men were convinced enough to view this answer as correct.
“That means Team Child Molester wins the Grand Prize” he turned to ‘Creepy Mustache Guy’ and ‘Wookie Pegs’ who managed to barely get out paniced screams before he emptied the rest of the firearms cartridges into their heads, knocking their seats back onto the floor in the process. He dropped the scattergun into the bucket in the center of the room and yelled
“Now get this hold cleaned up” to the men.
The floor, walls and even parts of the ceiling were splattered with blood and viscera. Dyre stepped through the large puddle of blood which covered the floor approaching Sylvi and placed friendly, if somewhat bloodstained, hand on her upper arm.
“I told you about the ‘Splash Zone’” He removed his helm and smiled thinking back upon the bloody spectacle which had concluded moments ago.
“Now I am sure you may have some questions about how we proceed, but how about we get ourselves cleaned off and head back to the Yacht to make a plan? These guys are going to be a while cleaning up the hold and they can send me their notes from the interrogation. That work for you?”
Tag:
Sylvi
