The viewscreen lights most of the stone room, The only light amongst the darkness. A figure resides in the corner overlooking the display. The abrupt change of ambiance is a joy as well as a respite from the neverending spite they feel for their prey. The once emotionless face, now somber grin at the bright truth, a flashing window among the stream of useless data.
“What do you mean we have no records of birth?” The fire building in his eyes as he looms over the operator.
“*That’s no surprise this was a private contract,” the operator says shakily, looking at the dark-robed man over his shoulder.
“These kinda things get swept under the rug all the time when they go awry. I swear I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
“Please let me live!”
The figure grabs the man by the throat. No breath could escape his lungs, gasping for air with his hands trying to support himself; He is lifted in the air and thrown aside with a thud.
“You’ve got a few seconds to make yourself useful.”
The operator is rapidly returned to his desk, taking long-winded breaths.
Once again is the room filled with a blueish hue from the viewscreen.
Color finally returns to his face as he rises from the abyss.
Keys begin fluttering rapidly as if his life depended on it.
He finds the one uncorrupted file on the data disk.
“There is one thing,” he says excitedly, awaiting the approval of his captors.
The viewscreen reads:
// Subject: Human child (A-10 )
Age: ■■
Mother: Keeyla (■■)
Father: Jo’dan (■■)
Status:
"Subject whereabouts are unknown. The others have failed to adhere to the program. By all accounts, this was the closest we came to a promising outcome. I just needed more time with the gene sequencing. I am confident we can replicate specific precursors."
The room ignites, what was once a bright blue, a deep red instead. Fear takes the body as he hears that sound of metallic resonance from a finely tuned weapon. It astounds him for about three seconds before he can get the words out.
"It doesn’t say anything about the sith… "
An audible hum followed by a thump, as half the operator and the viewscreen divide by a fiery glow; they both fall to the floor.
“It won’t either,” the robed figure says with a flourish of his saber, deactivating it.
The smoke swirls around the figure as they apparate from the room. The only thing lighting the room, before filling with darkness, is the fire of vengeance in the eyes of the wicked.