Outer Rim Territories
Imperial Detention Facility E-91
Time and sanity drifted in the void, fragmented elements that swirled within the horned skull of the Iridonian. Six long months; that was all it had taken to remove what had once been a deadly operative. A student of Force doctrines and adaptive values. A Journeyman, a Protector of the Dark Jedi Brotherhood by the name of Eivil Grimstroke.
What remained was an animal, scarred and withered, his existing injuries compounded by beating and torture. His training had paid off; he'd given nothing away, not even at the worst moments. Of foaming mouth and bleeding eye he'd been, time and again, but not one word beyond curse and insult had escaped between bouts of screaming and weeping agony.
"I'll ask you once more, adept." The Imperial interrogation officer's face blurred at times; sometimes it was old and gray, at others blond and beautiful, but they had ceased being different people to the beast after about a month and a half. "Where did you learn what you know? Are you a Jedi? Where are your cohorts?" He - for in this foggy instance of half-drugged consciousness, it was a man in his thirties - leaned in close. "What is your name?"
Shadowkind. All he got was a snarl, and a wad of bloodied spit. In retaliation, he cranked the voltage on the containment field holding the zabrak. The stun pulse brought another howl, followed by slumped silence.
"Well? Feeling a bit more cooperative?" The officer wiped his cheek, smirking. Every inch of his body ached, begging to feel the Force's embrace, the primal, raw fuel that had only just begun to reveal itself. "Soon you'll have to-... what in the blazes?"
A series of loud cries and blaster fire echoed from beyond the door hatch, sounds the monster could only half-remember, things from another life. The smash of something heavy against the door prompted the officer to rush to the panel, intent on keying it locked. When it flew open before him and the dark figure outside extended a hand, he folded, flying backward as if a wrecking ball had hit him. Sitting up and coughing, he looked at the foe in fear for a moment.
Then he saw the crimson saber glowing in his hand, and he put the pieces together with a wide-eyed gasp. "J-Jedi!" Throwing himself to the ground, he instantly went from controlled to pitiful. "I surrender. Take me prisoner, I want to see your Masters."
"A Jedi? Oh, the little ironies." The voice sent a chill up the creature's spine, unleashing fragments of memory that beat back the fog of madness. Vorrac's blade came down with a growl, crackling as it took off the man's head. Kal took a moment to look over the Shadowkind, as if trying to recall where he'd seen him before.
Then it clicked. "My, my," He said, waving a hand. The containment field deactivated, dropping the emaciated husk of a man to the cold floor below. "It is a day for surprises."
The tortured Zabrak merely crawled sheepishly away, after transfixing the Battlelord with pitch-black eyes and a short, feral roar, anouncing to the Sith the once promising agent's true state; though not yet broken, he was clinging to reality by mere threads.
There was no time for pleasantries. Yet, it was obvious to Kal, any careless approach attempted at Eivil might snap every single one of those fragile threads still binding the wretch to the 'here and now'. Vorrac didn't want to have to kill him. Not after all the trouble he'd gone to. What could be gained in that?... No, it was quite clear he would need to be confronted as one would any other beast; with the Force. And quickly, before the havoc Kal had wreaked led itself to his current position. The seconds were ticking.
The former Master-Scout had successfully crawled nto the shadows, behind a series of sealed crates containing, from the labeling, gelatinous-bacta. His long, filthy, knotted-hair blanketing his torso, as he drew his back up against a crate, pulling his knees to his chest as he did so. Low growls rumbling from his throat, he fixed those shineless black-orbs on Kal once again: weary, yet unblinking. Waiting.
Kal's mind filled itself with the images that plagued the battered creature. They were pathetic. The former assassin almost felt a hint of sorrow for the pitiful being Eivil Grimstroke had been reduced to. Almost; for, the most profound image Kal recieved from the young wretch was that of an enormous, pale, cybernetically-enhanced, ancient Spider-like-THING. Covered by red-eyes, it radiated the Dark-Side of the Force with malice, and affected the Force on an even grander scale, by way of a vast Dark-Side web, stretching from it's body, reaching out across the galaxy.
The image shimmered and warped, only to be replaced by that of Kal's own, standing precisely where he was, at present. 'How... interesting'., thought the Sith Battle Lord to himself with a smirk. 'Very interesting, indeed'.
"Hasn't anyone ever taught you it's impolite to break someone else's toys,.. Jedi?"
Shadowkind's quick jerk of his neck and subsequent roar at the direction of the voice emitting from the prison-lab's speaker-panels, confirmed his recognition of it's owner.
'I could ask you the same question.', was Kal di Plaguea Vorrac's only thought, after once more taking in the sight of the ravaged Intel-Agent before him, before whirling gracefully, to meet the Force-presence he felt entering the demolished portal.
"It seems you will undoubtedly get the chance, my good man.", retorted the telepath, verbally, to Kal's surface thought.