Mustafar is a planet steeped in a dark history, acting as a point of interest as far back as the Clone Wars themselves. At one point, the Black Sun constructed their headquarters upon its surface and later on even Darth Vader took up residence within his dark castle. The traces of this history are still found in the form of the remains left behind. Mining facilities are scattered across the lava-surface of the scorching planet, help up with gravity supports that keep them safe from the superheated material below.

Perhaps its most notable history came via a single uttered phrase: Mustafar is where Jedi go to die. The hidden interrogation facility built into the scorched stone is steeped in the dark side, providing a clue to its wicked purpose in a time not so long past. A large, single landing pad acts as the focal point of the structure from the outside. It is connected by a causeway that leads to a security door that has fallen into disuse. The facility itself is still functional, drawing power from the thermal energy of the planet itself.

Once within, one is confronted by the labyrinthine maze of corridors and offices that were clearly designed for a singular purpose. The holding cells are as spartan as any other Imperial construct, providing only a slab protruding from the wall as a bed and nothing more. Barracks can be found near the main control rooms with its shelving in various states of disarray. It is clear with only a glance that scavengers have already picked the inanimate corpse clean of its contents.

However, it is deeper still where the miasma of the dark side truly reaches its zenith. There one will find the interrogation chambers. Wickedly cruel in their singular purpose, stains can still be found caked into the durasteel panels themselves alongside various tools and instruments of the trade plied within.

To walk within Mustafar's Interrogation Facility is to tread through the ghosts of the planet's darkest past. It is a symphony for the wicked and a requiem for the pious.

A solitary sentient stood on the artificially constructed platform atop the lava surface of the planet Mustafar. The being watched as a ship descended onto the dark, dimly lit, landing pad. The landing ramp extended. A quartet of figures descended the ramp.

Two of the figures were garbed in the armor of the Grand Masters Royal Guard. They had blaster carbines magnetically attached to leg holsters, leaving their hands free to drag the third member of the group between them.

This sentient was a Zabrak prisoner, an elite shock collar closed around his throat.

The fourth figure was also garbed in guard armor. He had eschewed blasters for a set of blades and a black cloak flowed behind him.

The guards took the prisoner past the landing pad and deeper into the facility. The fourth figured remained behind; to speak with the figure that had awaited their arrival.

Hector Von Ricmore was not a short man. Standing at 6 foot flat, a bit larger in his armor, he still found himself looking up at the 8 foot behemoth in front of him. Fenrir was truly an impressive specimen.

”It is a pleasure to meet the Monster of Plagueis. I have heard tales of your ferocity and deadly capabilities in combat.”

A low growl was his answer. A warning to the little man to avoid wasting his time further.

”I’ve requested you for a simple reason. Prevent anyone from following me and the group that has entered the interrogation facility. You may do as you please with any interlopers. Kill them, eat them, I care not. But no one can enter until we finish extracting the secrets from the prisoner.”

The massive lupine creature huffed in agreement. It would have plenty of pretty to hunt. This was good.

Hector gave a nod in approval and proceeded deeper into the facility.

The creature known as Fenrir slunk into the shadows. His prey would be here soon. But until then he would wait.

He watched the transport craft that had brought the prisoner fly off to parts unknown.

Then he waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

The creature was beginning to grow angry. If this hunt was a false hood he would make support of the beings he was supposed to protect.

But when he had neared the end of his patience he heard the low whine of a ship engine.

His canine fangs curled in anticipation. The hunt was about to start.

A small transport descended, landing atop the platform. A dozen Collective soldiers stepped forth, most armed with blaster rifles but a single member carrying a heavy flamethrower.

Even Fenrir’s beastial mind could recognize the primal danger that fire would bring. So it was that foe that he target first.

The lupine creature leapt from the shadows, using his immense strength to knock aside soldiers before they could fire a shot. He trapped the soldier’s flamethrower and pulled him in close; close enough to tear out the soldier’s throat with his fangs.

Shouts of alarm echoed around the platform as the soldiers struggled to turn their weapons on Fenrir and recover from the ambush.

Outside the Interrogation Facility

Lights from blasters flashed across the distance, fired by the now-frantic Collective soldiers taken aback by the sudden ambush. A beast just leapt from the shadows, killed one of them, and sped back into the ominous shadows caused by the massive structure. The ambient lighting from the angry atmosphere was there, as well as enough light from the turbulent lave fields below, and yet there were many places to hide.

Fenrir would lick the blood off his fangs and stalk them from a distance, shrouded from their vision and visual technologies. His hackles raised, fangs out, he emitted suppressed grows of excitement that only such hunts gave him. He started stalking them from a distance, but he knew well it wasn't exactly a hunt. He still had to keep them away from whatever was going on inside. As he moved slowly and deliberately on the metal surface, whatever noise his footfalls made were washed away by the loud cries of the Collective team and of their firearms. He waited till they got somewhat confident and complacent, almost sure that the beast had left or is dead, and started to make for the building's entrance. That's when he sprung another trap.

Coming out of the translucent shroud, he motioned at the man foremost though the door, clutched his fist as if grabbing the soldier, gave a loud roar and made a motion of pulling the soldier towards his bestial self. The enemy was seen ejecting backwards off his feet, pulled as if by an unnatural force, through the phalanx of his surprised team and near the hungry beast, who lost no time in disemboweling him.

"Kark! He's not dead. Kill him!" said one who seemed to lead the group.

The others followed, aimed, and started firing at the creature, who lost no time in leaping back towards the shadows. Why fight when he can pick them off one by one? Only fools rush in, as a wise person once said.

Inside the Interrogation Facility

"You hear them? Hear their cries of dying?" hissed Hector Von Rickmore, at the Zabrak agent who now was finding movement quite restricting to say the least. They had trussed and bound him on an interrogation chair. The familiar feeling of fear swept over the non-human, who knew that his life depended on the information he now possessed, and on how fast he can be rescued. He knew well that the Brotherhood is a merciless entity that rarely let enemy agents out alive. The cold sweat on his brow told him what was coming next, for he was in the interrogation cell where even Jedi were brought to be questioned and killed. What hope was there for him? And yet, he put up a brave front: the defiant stare and sealed lips.

"You're brave. I'll give you that, but if you think you'll be rescued, you're very much mistaken. Your little secret shall come out long before your 'friends' step in."

The bound Zabrak spat, even as the armored speaker turned his back to pick an instrument of torture, "We shall see."

Outside

"Where is it?!"

"Do you see it?"

"No sir! No visual!"

"I can't see it!"

"Shut up. I know none of us can. Karking sithspit!"

The skirmish outside was heating up. One more was lost. They could only watch in horror as he was somehow pulled towards the shadows, and only the screams showed his bloody fate. Fenrir was skilled in hunting more than one entity. In fact, he believed the more the merrier. More the prey, more is the confusion, and it all adds to the ease of the hunter. The trick is not to remain stationary, to always keep moving to fool the enemy. He would attack from the shadows suddenly, retreat back to retrace his steps, only to attack from the flank.

Their numbers were dwindling fast. Only nine were left now, counted their team leader. It was now or never.

"Never mind the beast. Three of you guard the entrance: heavy repeaters and supporting fire . The rest with me inside with assault rifles!"

The prisoner convulsed in his chair as electricity flowed across his body. Legs began to shake; the metal restraints preventing the thrashing from hitting his torturer.

Hector Von Ricmore gazed down at the prisoner. As expected, the man was resistant to pain and most conventional torture methods. He needed to finish this quickly if he was to provide aid to his ally outside.

Turning to look at the duo of guards he ordered “Leave the prisoner to me. Secure the artifact room. The intruders must not be allowed to make off with any of our equipment.“

With the guards safely out of the way the Kiffar turned back to the prisoner.

“Your resistance is most impressive but I am afraid that time is short. I shall offer you one last chance to provide answers with your mind still intact. Where is The Collective Base in closest proximity to the Zsoldos system?“

The Zabrak defiantly glared at his capture. His horns were slick with sweat and blood. A previous blow had opened a cut under his eye. Blood had long since crusted alongside his left cheek. He would not give his captor the satisfaction of witnessing the pain he was in. He resolutely kept his silence. He would not break.

“Very well. Then I shall proceed. Tell me Zabrak, have you heard of the Ravager? It was an ancient sith device, capable of pulling information from the mind of a sentient. It turns the brain to mush afterwards but I no longer need you alive. I posses a mere recreation of the device but I‘m positive you will perish all the same.“

The Zabrak‘s eyes opened wide in fear. He thrashed in vain as the device was placed upon his head. Then the screaming began.

Outside the facility the soldiers divided into their pre arranged groups. Six men moved deeper into the building; weapons at the ready and eyes peeled for any trouble. Three men remained at the entrance, prepared to assist their comrades. None of them saw the hulking figure hidden away with the Force, a small glimmer in the air the only sign of his presence.

Fenrir hurled his cloak forward as he became visible. The cloth landed on the the head of one soldier who began to fire wildly. The Firrerreo grabbed the nearest soldier, using him as a body shield against the blaster fire of his comrade. He flung the corpse at the third soldier, sending both tumbling to the ground.

The remaining Soldier pulled the cloak from his helmet. A massive fist smashed into his face, sending him into unconsciousness.

The other group of soldiers continued to push into the base. Following the intact shepard chip of their comrade, the sextet arrived at the interrogation room. They stared in horror at the state of their Zabrak comrade.

The Collective prisoner stared listlessly ahead, his eyes empty pools of glass. Drool rolled from his mouth and trickled down his face.

“You. You did this to him.“ The leader muttered in anger.

“I did.“ Hector replied. “And you have forgotten one of the primary rules of facing a Force User. Don‘t group up.“

The Dark Jedi raised his hands. Lighting sprayed and arced between the gathered soldiers. They began to twitch and shake, dropping their weapons and collapsing to the floor.

Hector kept the stream going until he was certain that the soldiers had perished. Anger truly did make people do foolish things.