Episode I: Crouching Captain, Hidden Jedi

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Just the sight of the clankers gave Marko shivers, even though he knew full well the Separatists had been driven out of Coruscant completely at this point, he couldn't help but recall the abject fear that Grievous and his droid army had once put into him. He'd seen Grievous once, face to face. He'd never been of high enough rank to have been sent for him but sometimes, when he saw an opportunity to, General Grievous would dive into the middle of a battalion and slaughter every one of them, his four saber wielding arms slashing with both balletic grace and explosive, unthinking rage. These droid guards at the door sent his mind back to the time he had been the sole survivor of such a battalion, early on in the clone wars, and how, as he lay beneath the hulking cybernetic frame of the general, unarmed and afraid, Grievous bent down and pushed his cold, metal exo-skull inches from Marko's helm.

"I don't take prisoners," Grievous had said, "but you will live."

"Why?" asked Marko.

"So that you can tell General Skywalker exactly what happened here," Marko nodded but was interrupted by the general's claw, clutching his head and holding it still so that the helpless clone could do nothing but stare into his wretched, yellow eyes, "and tell him that he and all he holds dear are next." Grievous let go of Marko and as soon as he did Marko ran. Even now the memory chilled him. At the time he had worried deeply about his Captain, Rex, for he was very close to General Skywalker during the clone war days. Now, he simply wondered, but for a moment, 'whatever happened to Clone Captain Rex,' and led his men into the droid guarded building.

As the squadron bustled their way past the reprogrammed battle droids and into the bar, the heat made their visors steam up and there was a good two seconds in which they could not see past their nose, before their armour recognised the problem and swiftly dealt with it. The light in the bar was hazy and dim, a sleazy light, and Marko recognised right away that these were the type of underground scum and villainy that the Grand Vizier had been talking about in his speech, broadcast across all of Coruscant, last night. Marko was Captain of the Imperial Coruscant Guard and so reported directly to Grand Vizier Amedda, this meant he had payed particular attention when he'd told tale of scoundrels from the planet's seedy underbelly harbouring those most vicious of traitors: Jedi. He made his way over to the bar where a nervous Aqualish polished glasses, the thought of those hairy hands touching anything he'd drink from made Marko feel sick, he'd grown a lot less tolerant of the little things in other species that put him off since the Empire rose to power, or perhaps he'd always felt this way and the Empire just allowed him the freedom to express it. The Aqualish attempted to speak to this enforcer of Imperial law in his native tongue of muffled grunts, but Captain Marko simply unsheathed his blaster pistol and thrust it into the barman's face, between his four black, fearful eyes.

"I didn't pay much attention in Aqualish class buddy," he said, "fetch me your translator or you'll be cleaning your brains off these glasses next."

The barman nodded and backed away, pressing a button on the wall, opening a sliding door that led to a cupboard. Inside the cupboard was a protocol droid, silver, or at least it seemed that it once was silver, now it was covered in filth, scuffs and dents from years of service far beyond it's model's recommended life span. It spoke in a soothing female voice, no doubt programmed that way to help diffuse bar brawls, but the effect now was compromised by the constant glitches the poor thing experienced, causing its voice to fluctuate every so often in pitch and to be interrupted constantly with mechanical buzzes.

"Good evening sir," she said, "how may I assist you today?" The barman said something in Aqualish and the droid replied by turning to Marko. "Good evening Captain," she said, spotting Marko's insignia, "I am L-E, this establishment's Republic mandated translations droid, I will be translating for my master, Mr. Antim Klev. May I relay your name to my master so we may begin amiable conversation?" Marko gave L-E his name and rank and the droid thanked him. Now Marko could get what he came for. The first thing Mr. Klev asked was why Marko's men were already searching the bar and intimidating his customers when they hadn't a warrant. Marko told him that they were under orders from Amedda, they didn't need a warrant. 

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⏰ Last updated: Aug 10, 2020 ⏰

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