The PR game (pm me for invite)

[Dr. Firk]

Ooc: This is a flashback thread... I wanted to do something a little different with it... part of it will be in first person part in third. Try to follow along.

IC:

An excerpt from Dr. Firk's autobiography: An Empire Starts with Me

Chapter 3: Incarcerating the Most Brilliant Mind in the Galaxy



As you read this my hatred for the gelatinous, hypocritical self-proclaimed guardians of the galaxy grows. They run around poking their noses where it doesn't belong. I am not a villain but a savior. I am not the self-important god, they pretend to be. Gods run around in brown cloaks and don't share their power with us mortals. I am not going to tell you how to live your life, I'm just going to make it better, more comfortable. I do not wish to police you, judge you, make you praise me... I only wish to bring you fire.


I remember one day this self-important 'god' tried to snuff out the fire before it burned in your hearts and minds. There I was literally on top of the Galaxy, the cold mountain peak of Soronia, making huge strides in the fields of medicine. My loyal friends I had assigned to tasks within their capabilities to rehabilitate them. Here we were far from civilization and this Jedi showed up... claiming the infamous organization CorSec sent him to end our progress. I for one do not submit to CorSec's subjugation. I defended my property. Here we were on a barren wasteland far from the Correlian sector not harming anyone and these huttspawn go out of their way to shut us down simply because we didn't have permits. They incarcerated my brethren, to be locked up for life. I had given them their last chance at happiness and CorSec and this Jedi ripped it away.

 

[Dr. Firk]

The real story....

Hulf'irk'inrokini stood looking callously down at the squirming humanoid, at this point it wa difficult to determine the bipedal's actual race. Soaked in blood and mutilated the creature was more beast than whatever it used to be. The ongoing surgery wasn't going as well as the doctor had hoped. One of his assistants had started vomiting early in the procedure, another had passed out and his third most used to the doctor's orders was still a bit shaky. They were all criminals, not trained surgeons like he was. He just imagined that they wouldn't be fainting at the sight of his magnificent creation.

Dr. Firk yelled, "Out! All of you!" He was tire of holding their hands. He was going to have to move quickly if he was going to save his masterpiece. The assistants quickly filed out, and into the greater expanses of the station Dr. Firk had designed to keep the cold and other harshness of this particular world out.

 

[Tiland Kortun]

Tiland crouched down in the snow, wind knifing through his robes and skin. He paid it no mind. The base ahead of him brooded, cloaked in the Dark Side, nauseating and delicious "smelling." He shuddered. He would have to be very careful here. Hunger roared through him, craving the soup of sentient life force. He settled himself into meditation and let the pangs fade away into oblivion. Or rather, the edge of his awareness. It was always there, lurking at the edge of his awareness.

He stood and strode towards the base with a slight limp, robes fluttering and snapping in the wind. His hair whipped against his face, and he raised a hand to move it out of his face. He stopped several hundred meters away from the base and knelt back down towards the ground, waiting. Now that he had a clearer view, he could more accurately create a plan of entry.

 

[Dr. Firk]

More that a galactic standard hour rolled by and the good Doctor finally emerged from the operating room, covered in blood. His face stone-like as always. He walked by the former convicts, their faces an odd mix of adulation and fear. He walked outside without saying a word about the surgery. He reached into the snow on the ground and pulled out a bottled drink and opened it. Unfortunately, he had left it too long in the cold and it had frozen over. He grimaced at the sight. He had his heart set on a cool drink but alas this was not to send him into a blind rage for his surgery was successful and his temper was quelled due to his appreciation in himself. He walked back inside and one of his minions dared ask him how the operation went. He offered a toothy grin. "Well." was all he said as he walked over to his office.

[member="Tiland Kortun"]

 

[Tiland Kortun]

Tiland froze, metaphorically speaking, as [member="Dr. Firk"] stepped outside, and bent to get a drink, perhaps, and then was disappointed about it being frozen. What did he expect? The universe to bow to his wishes and demands? Probably. He was mad enough, to be sure, which was why he had been asked to help track him down. Probably. It certainly wouldn't surprise him. He was mad enough for that to be sure. But this was also his way forward. He slipped forward through the snow, staying low to avoid detection, but then the man went back inside and the door shut.

Unfortunate. He frowned and pressed himself against the wall of the building. Now it was time for a new plan. He had to get inside without triggering any alarms. Assuming it had any. He'd prefer to handle this without violence. Grab the doctor and leave. But now he actually had to go inside. How? Wait for someone else to leave? Forcible enter? Use the ventilation system?

 

[Dr. Firk]

The good Doctor sat in his office and opened up his medical journal and began writing in it with such fervor. As he wrote he began laughing a little and a bit more until he was in hysterics. Writing and laughing. Laughing and writing. It was certainly a wild sight to see and not a soul was aware of the presence of [member="Tiland Kortun"]

 

[Tiland Kortun]

Tiland waited a little while longer, watching his breath condense into clouds of vapor, and then sidled over to the door. Everything was silent, except for the crunch of snow and ice beneath his feet. He pressed himself against the wall, and paused to check to see if he had been detected. It didn't seem like it. To be completely honest, this was a shoddy criminal enterprise. The Black Sun would be disappointed. Not even the foulest Anzat assassin would work for an operation such as this.

Not that racial pride meant anything to him. He'd abandoned that decades ago. He inched closer to the door, and then stopped alongside it. Still nothing. Tiland took a deep breath and closed his eyes, probing gently into the minds of those inside. He shuddered at their thoughts. This was stage one.

He sifted through their memories, their fears, finding common ones, and then broadcasting those fears to those inside. It wasn't precise, instead aiming for everyone in the building. He didn't have the control yet to target so many individuals with different ones.

[member="Dr. Firk"]