Hector Von Ricmore
Clan Vizsla
Ebon Ridge, Zsoldos, Zsoldos System

Ebon Ridge was a Hutt slime filled shithole. That thought echoed through the mind of one Hector Von Ricmore. It was not the gambling dens or even those loitering in gang colors which set him off. It was the stench. The revolting, nauseating smell that clung to the slums. It reeked of decomposing corpses and feces which baked in the sun.

Dweebo Sartoona. That was the name of the scumbag which brought Von to this Force forsaken place. The man was a known slaver, one of the few crimes alarming enough to convince the more powerful inhabitants of Zsoldos to take immediate action. On Zsoldos murder was expected; drugs and weapon smuggling were commonplace. But slavery set people on edge. Slavery could bring the attention of the Hutt clans, a dire event the people of Zsoldos sought to avoid at nearly any cost.

It was no wonder that a bounty was swiftly placed upon Dweebo. The Rodian had taken some precautions upon arriving at Zsoldos. He arrived using a false name with documentation to aid his cover as an agricultural merchant hauling produce. These falsification attempts stood no match against the Yuanming network. As the structure houses the only proper spaceport upon Zsoldos, the slaver was forced to land at the hotel. As with all new arrivals the hotel made use of the most cutting edge scans and information retrieval technology available. For most arrivals a single scanning sweep was where things ended. Yuanming cared not for most cargo from spice to weapons, as long as no hostile actions were taken against the hotel. But the varied cages and humanoid sized electro collars revealed a discrepancy in the Rodians story.

The Yuanming leadership reached out to their information network, trading credits and a favor in return for the truth. The Rodian was an infamous slaver named Dweebo Sartoona, an agent of the Hutt cartel hoping to plunder more slaves away from the prying eyes of governments like the New Republic or First Order.

With the truth uncovered the assassins of Yuanming wasted no time posting a bounty. A vast sum of credits to be paid out for the capture of Dweebo and a bonus for any information or action taken against his possible associates. The bounty claimed that Dweebo was last seen traveling towards Ebon Ridge on his personal skiff, accompanied by a personal entourage. Which led to Von’s current predicament.

The Sith waited in the comfort of his personal vessel, a Skipray Blastboat. Small enough to land outside of a spaceport yet powerful enough to do some real damage in combat; the vessel pleased its owner greatly. There was a slight hiccup in that the ship was designed for a crew but offering one of the reserve Vizsla pilots and a skilled medic half the bounty solved that issue nicely.

As for Dweebo, the Rodian had parked his skiff outside of the slums. A trio of Weequay guards watched over the vehicle while the Rodian and his remaining entourage entered a cantina.

It was no small relief to the Pau’an that he would not have to enter such an establishment, at least not yet. Avoiding a slum wide firefight was ideal and the best way to do that would be to not assault a patron inside a cantina. Despite Ebon Ridge’s tolerance of dishonorable duels who could truly say what would happen when enough alcoholic patrons heard the blaster bolts start to fly. The risk of escalation was too great and not worth gaining whatever information could be gleaned from Dweebo’s venture.

Von was content to wait within the safety of his ship, observing the skiff through his Viper probe droid. The droid was painted to blend in against the dilapidated buildings and the Sith had personally tweaked its systems to ensure it would be as quiet as possible. And thus he waited, watching the video stream from the droid on his data pad.

His patience paid off. Dweebo returned with his entourage, a mixed group of Gamoreans and Weequay, as well as a single Nemoidian. They boarded the skiff as a group, the Gamoreans carrying several unconscious individuals. With the passengers aboard the skiff began to travel back to Yuanming.

“Pilot follow them.” Von ordered.

As the ship began to rise the Pau’an focused on his connection to the Viper probe droid, mentally ordering it to follow and kill the guards of the entourage.

Viper flew towards the skiff and began to fire its blaster. Flashes of red light exited from underneath the droid. Most of the shots missed their intended targets, the droid was no marksman and both itself and the skiff were moving at high speeds. A single blast hit the Weequay manning the skiff’s blaster cannon. The criminal fell to the floor of the skiff with a smoking hole in his chest.

“What are you doing? Blast that droid!” Dweebo yelled as he deftly pulled out a blaster pistol and began to return fire. The skiff’s movement did him no favors and his first volley went wide.

The droid then fired its blaster at one of the Gamoreans. The shot slammed into the creature and sent it tumbling from the vehicle with a squeal. A lucky shot from the Rodian slammed into the droid’s eye. It powered off and crashed into the ground.

“What am I even paying you all for? Useless the lot of you.” The Rodian snarled. “Check on the slaves make sure none of them were awoken by the conflict.”

The roar of engines growing closer caused the Rodian to look around in alarm. Turing around he witnessed Von’s Skipray flying closer to the skiff.

“One of you idiots get on the turret and shoot that out of the sky! NOW!” Dweebo screamed.

A Weequay ran for the turret only to be thrown from the skiff when blaster fire slammed into him.

The remaining criminals fired a variety of blasters against the Skipray, their small arms fire doing very little to its heavy shielding and armor.

Von stared down his target from aboard the Skipray. With the piloting delegated he was free to utilize the weaponry with all his expertise. He continued firing upon the skiff, obliterating the blaster turret after killing the gunner. The Skipray then fired into the engine of the skiff, causing an explosion.

The vehicle was moving too fast to come to an immediate stop. It’s momentum carried the vessel towards one of the badlands mountains. The skiff scrapped against the side of the mountain, releasing a shriek of metal followed by a loud explosion. The noise was so loud it irritated Von’s sensitive hearing, even with his ear protection.

“What the frick were they carrying?” The gunner muttered as he ears rang.

“Set us down Pilot.” He ordered. “Double check your armor seals before we leave.” Von stated as he began stripping off his armor. Clad only in his bodyglove he quickly changed into his environmental suit. “Medic, I need Dweebo alive. Perform the procedure on him and spare no expense. I’ll ensure you are properly compensated.”

“Yes Sir.” The pair acknowledged.

Exiting the vessel the trio moved to investigate the skiff. Charred bodies littered the ground, those still alive squirming and groaning in pain. Blaster pistol in hand, Von ended their suffering as the group moved towards the Rodian.

Dweebo was practically unrecognizable. Green skin was damaged by the explosion and charred black by the spice fueled flames.

The medic began to unpack his tools as he prepared to operate.

“Will he live?” Von inquired.

“The procedure will increase his odds but it remains up to the patient. We will have to see.”

Undisclosed location
3 days later

Dweebo felt pain. All he knew was pain. He screamed and screamed until his voice would let him scream no more.

The Rodian’s whole body ached. His arms and legs chaffed, held in restraints which kept him suspended in the air.

“Impressive, you aren’t supposed to be awake yet.”

The Rodian turned to face the sound, fear coiling in his gut.

“You appear to be in pain. Shall I take that away for you?” The voice proclaimed.

As the voice implied the pain Dweebo felt faded. But his fear only increased. This was unnatural. Where was he? Who was speaking? He had to get out. He had to get out.

Dweebo thrashed against his restraints. They held firm against his desperate struggles.

“No need for that. I’m certain we are going to get to know each other quite well.” The voice claimed as it grew even closer.

Dweebo finally got to put a face to the name. Pale scarred flesh and bright yellow eyes. A Pau’an.

“I’ve begun to learn that simply destroying one’s enemies is so very wasteful.” Von began to monologue. “Killing is often necessary and even enjoyable. But the assets of one’s enemies can be made to work for you. You are a slaver Dweebo. To your kind people are an asset, a commodity. I think you may have a point. You see I belong to an organization which has recently suffered some unfortunate setbacks. I’m not the kind of man who enjoys being caught off guard and its time for me to rectify that. In the past my organization encountered a fearsome enemy who utilized cybernetic soldiers. Cold, unfeeling automatons who could overcome pain and adversity. It’s taken myself and others 3 years but we have unraveled the code and made it our own so to speak. You see Dweebo, you belong to me now. That chip in your head marks you as mine. If you remove it, you will die. And when you receive the proper messages your pesky free will is wiped away, allowing you to act as an agent of my design.”

Dweebo shook in terror. He didn’t want this. Couldn’t imagine this. He wanted out. He had to get out.

“I wouldn’t bother escaping. The chip won’t allow you to. Even when in your conscious mind the technology will not allow you to use death as an escape. After you recover I’ll hand you over to the proper authorities. I’m certain the Hutts or some other criminal will still make use of you; no doubt you will find freedom eventually. But you will never truly be free. You are my spy for eternity, a fate worse then death. Truly a fitting fate for one who makes his living taking the freedom from others.” Von remarked with a morbid chuckle as he walked away.