Kourt Crowe Snippet #1
Title: Knowledge before Power
Author: HiperBunny
Rating: PG-13, for violence
Disclaimers: Um, some of it is mine... quite a lot of it, in fact. Bits and
snippets aren't. They belong to George. No money here, though.
Notes: Takes place roughly 150 years before TPM.
The stone walls were both cold and damp, not to mention part of a
sub-basement. The rats were aggressive and the jailors either stupid or
wealthy. Kourt Crowe had tried several means of persuading them, most
untraceable, to no success. He looked down at his nude body, trying to
think of a way to escape that would leave no indicators as to his day job.
He sighed deeply, stirring the dry grasses that passed for carpet in this
particular prison cell. All in all it was standard accommodations for an
unwanted guest in this part of the galaxy.
The chains were a nice touch, though.
***********Click here for a picture of Kourt in
chains.***********
He tossed his hair out of his eyes and frowned at the heavy shackles, first
those that bound his ankles together, via a length of chain, then at those
which encircled his wrists. Nudity, he observed, was not conducive to
lock-picking. Anonymity, he likewise knew, required the eschewment of
certain skills in his possession. Besides, he needed to keep up appearances
for a time yet.
He shifted uncomfortably, wishing his captor would come down and gloat
already, so he could finish the mission and go home.
He closed his eyes and centered himself, preparing for the upcoming
confrontation. With any luck, that would be his target making such a racket
in the hall. Good. *Keep your cool, Kourt-o. Just focus, play your hand
and don't miss your opportunity.*
There was a brief cycle of magnetic locks releasing, then the cell door
opened. A lone figure entered, locking the door behind him. He was smaller
than Kourt himself chose to be, richly dressed in silks and brocades, and
bore with him an air of arrogance. His hair was dark and just long enough
to touch his jawline. Equally dark eyes studied Kourt's captive form,
sweeping from toes to hair and back to groin, where his gaze lingered.
Kourt swallowed, then smiled. "Good day to you, Sar Berandi."
The man ignored his greeting. Instead, he touched a panel by the door and
Kourt grunted as the wrist-chains drew up into the walls. A few moments
later and his toes were barely brushing the floor. His captor came closer,
close enough to brush his fingers over Kourt's face and hair. His breath
was sweet, lips full and inviting. Inwardly, Kourt struggled with a
combination of desire and revulsion. To look at him, Berandi might be
nothing more than a pleasure worker or a particularly bright club kid.
Kourt knew better. The man before him was responsible for atrocities within
the Republic systems, but was hiding outside jurisdiction to avoid arrest
and prosecution.
*Idiot,* Kourt thought. *As if Justice cares about borders.*
"Well, shall we do this the hard way or the easy way?" Berandi purred, hands
slipping lower, across Kourt's chest.
"Oh, easy sounds good to me," Kourt breathed.
Berandi blinked, surprised. He quickly recovered and asked "Who are you?"
"No one. My name is Kourt, but that probably doesn't mean anything to you,"
Kourt replied.
Berandi frowned but filed the information away. "Who sent you?"
"My orders came through secured channels, but I believe they originated with
the Jedi Council this time," Kourt quickly replied.
Berandi chuckled at that. "The Jedi Council? Then don't you think it is
rather foolish to divulge this information to me?" He leaned closer and
inhaled, as if taking the scent of Kourt's body. "After all, there's no
telling what I might do with it. Jedi consorting with theives and
cutthroats, conspiring against a citizen? How WILL this look on the
newsfeed? I would normally warn you to be cautious, but you might see how
that would interfere with my own interest..."
"I'm not worried about it," Kourt smiled.
"And why is that?" Berandi murmured, stepping back slightly and reaching for
his belt.
"My orders were to kill you."
Before Berandi could do more than laugh, Kourt grabbed the chains above his
head and kicked his legs out, casting his ankle-chain over Berandi's head.
Kourt dragged Berandi closer, one foot on his shoulder, the other on his
jaw. One sharp kick and Berandi's neck snapped.
Kourt took a moment to catch his breath and control his sudden energy surge.
He then set his mind to shifting out of his bindings and his plan for
escape.
Ten minutes later, Sar Berandi walked out of the prison cell and towards the
main hangar. A tiny smile played across his lips as he twisted one lock of
hair around his finger.
-end-
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