He tapped his foot, nervously.

His heart beat quickly, almost alarmingly so.

Sweat started to build at the peak of his chest as it heaved slightly.

<i>The SS...

Am I ready for this?</i>

It was a rhetorical question he asked himself, and only once.

The answer was irrelevant, <i>it didn't matter</i>.

His path was laid out before him, there was no looking back.

Mezh Pauer's quarters were standard, and thus small. Due to his recent promotion to 1st Lieutenant in the SS, he was afforded his own room which, by Galactic standards was not much to speak of. But, by Galactic Imperial Army standards, it might as well be the Coruscan Royal Inn.

He stood there in front of the doorway of the 7' x 7' room, which some might more appropriately label a "cell". They'd be wrong, cells were bigger.

He lowered his head so that his chin sunk into the newly formed layer of sweat which had accumulated on his bare chest. He shut his eyes tightly drawing in a deep breath. He wore a pair of nondescript black pants which were designed for comfort in lieu of style. His bare feet stood flush against the cold duracrete floor.

He stood nearly a full two meters in height. Physically, he had the athletic form that you would expect from someone in his line of work, lean but not skinny, muscular but not distractingly so. If he were fully clothed, you wouldn't look twice in his direction - another benefit in his line of work.

In his current condition, you wouldn't know what the man known as Mezh Pauer was capable of. You wouldn't know that he could walk through a pile of dry leaves without making a noise, only to end your life before you heard so much as a bird's chirp, or felt so much as an ant's touch as it dutifully marched up the back of your neck.

"Les dieux observent au-dessus de moi." He whispered silently to himself. A prayer in his native tongue, which he followed with a ceremonious motion, followed by craning his head backwards staring seemingly into the cosmos, as he spoke the words, "protégez-moi contre mes ennemis" in hardly more than a whisper before returning to a relaxed position.

He took another quick breath, and seemingly gained his composure in the blink of an eye.

<i>I am ready...

I have to be...</i>

It took all the concentration he could muster to expel the numerous thoughts which tried to crowbar their way into the soldier's mind. He had a lot on his mind these days, ascension to the SS was no small feat for anyone, let alone a man from Mezh Pauer's background.

It was almost... <i>miraculous</i>.

Mezh felt like he had somehow, slipped through the cracks. He never thought in a Hutt's age that he'd be accepted into the SS. It was always his goal to be allowed into such a prestigious branch of the Imperial Armed Forces.

Now, now that he <i>had</i> been recruited by the SS, and more precisely Wesley Vos himself, near-panic had set in.

Anxiety.

<i>Fear</i>.

Mezh Pauer pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind as he engaged in his morning excercises. Even after nearly 75 push-ups, Mezh found it difficult to concentrate. He increased his tempo, pushing his body to the physical limits completing several push-ups in break-neck speed.

His eyes closed, his muscles tingling, a calm washed over him.

He leapt to his feet in one quick, smooth motion. Sweat trailed down his chiseled physique as gravity took over from his sudden rise. He turned to face a makeshift pull-up bar which he had installed in the cramped quarters, he gripped the bars tightly as he rose seemingly effortlessly, smoothly.

Hutt Space, perhaps one of the final vestiges of lawlessness and disorder in the Galaxy. The Empire had, in their own way, put in place a system of order in the numerous worlds they controlled. For the Empire, this might be the last step in securing their stranglehold on the Galaxy at large, but for Mezh Pauer - this was the beginning of his journey.

After about 50 pull-ups, Mezh stopped his workout falling back to the floor. He grabbed a small white towel which was perched on a dresser, he wiped the pools of sweat from his skin.

He glanced down at the chronometer beside his small bunk, 0447 hours. He took a deep breath, expelling it slowly.

Today was the day.

Today was the day that he would meet the Kommandos.

The event could go swimmingly, or it could be a collossal failure.

Or it could start off well, and devolve into a nightmare. One never could tell in these situations. Mezh was going to meet the 11 men, and or women, that he was going to spend the foreseeable future with.

He closed his eyes, silently mouthing a prayer, "Les dieux me donnent la force en cela, l'heure de mon ascension."

Now was the time. He hopped into the refresher for a quick shower before getting dressed, he had to look presentable, what with first impressions being what they were and all.

Because this, as it were, would be the most important first impression Mezh Pauer had ever, or would ever make.

<i>This is it. It's time.</i> Mezh thought to himself.

He took a deep breath and approached the door which slid open smoothly.

Before Mezh Pauer could register what was going on, he took a powerful blow to the face which sent him careening to the hard surface with a nearly skull-shattering thud.

He let out a soft cry as his head hit the floor hard. Before he could embrace the pain, he was met with a hard kick to the ribs which caused him to fold over into an almost fetal position.

<i>This is it...</i>

Mezh Pauer's thoughts were interrupted as a large man with arms the size of tree trunks gripped Mezh by the neck, jerking him to his feet which dangled below him. Another man, stood in front of him now, this one was lean and lanky. He had a look in his eye which let Mezh know that he was <i>enjoying</i> this.

Through Mezh's blurred vision he saw the large fist crash into his right eye, craning Mezh's head backwards and sealing his eye shut.

Another man who Mezh couldn't quite make out stepped up to take his shots, and peppered Mezh's already sore rib cage with several shots which caused the assassin to wince in pain.

The man finished his combination with a hard shot to Mezh's mouth which would have caused severe pain if Mezh were not already in severe pain. His lip was cut wide open as blood began to rush down the side of his mouth.

Mezh slumped there in the care of the large gentleman who was holding him afloat, blood mixed with saliva flowing from his mouth and onto the floor and down his chest. The man released his grip sending Mezh to the floor face-first, <i>lifeless</i>.

"Take him to Selere." One of the men said, Mezh assumed the smaller man was addressing the larger man as he felt the same giant hand grip his right leg and began to drag him down the hall.

Mezh's heart began to beat more quickly in anticipation.

<i>They can't know...

How could they?

Je vous ai échoué, mais je n'indiquerai pas la vérité. Votre secret meurt avec moi, vieil ami.</i>

The lightbulb clicked on.

Pauer's gaze began to focus, and as it did he saw a man larger than tree-trunk, decked out in the full uniform of an Imperial SS Colonel. Racen Selere's cold eyes stared down at the new recruit with disdain. He nodded, and a bucket of ice-cold water doused Pauer, soaking him through. The recruit was awake now, for certain. Time to begin.

Pauer himself was well-secured. Selere had gone old-school with this one. Concrete room, bare, single light bulb dangling from the ceiling. Pauer was tied to a chair (yes, using actual rope), stripped to his undergarments. Lieutenant Stadloper (tree-trunk) and Captain Brin stood behind him, ready to do whatever was needed. Selere smiled, a grim sort of smile that would strike fear into the man in the chair, and he stepped forward.

His accent was quite distinct as he began to question, identifying him as a native of Kuat. Still, it seemed that he had never learned to speak Basic fluently. "Mr. Mezh Pauer," he began. "I must say, you are an interesting character. Quite a dynamic background."

Selere paused. "So, Mr. Pauer," he continued, "how long have you been working for the enemies of the Empire? What did they pay you to betray us?" He leaned close, right next to Pauer's face. "You want to tell me? Or do we have to beat it out of you?"

Laughter.

Odd to be sure, but in this moment all Mezh Pauer could muster was an eerie laughter which caused a strange muffling sound as he smiled wide and exposed his once pearly white teeth which were now cemented with his own blood.

His right eye was open just enough to make out the confused look on the hulking brute who stood before him. His left eye was sealed shut from the earlier beating and was now in the early stages of a nasty black eye.

<i>He doesn't know...</i>

If the Kuati man who stood before him was as smart as a Kowakian Monkey Lizard, then he was indeed smarter than he looked. Mezh, even in his battered and broken state, could read the man like a book.

If they did indeed suspect Mezh Pauer of treason, this is not how or where his interrogation would take place.

Mezh raised his head, still smiling (if you could call it that). One might hope that an individual in Mezh Pauer's shoes would choose his next words very carefully. For all the wounds which would endure for days, perhaps even <i>weeks</i>, all Mezh Pauer felt was relief.

Whatever the outcome of this encounter turned out to be, it couldn't be half as bad as Mezh Pauer thought it could be.

"I suppose... <b>sir</b>." Mezh said struggling to get the words out, his voice distorted by his fattening lip. "You'll have to beat it out of me..." He said, straining for breath "...because I don't know what the fuck... you're talking about."

Mezh's head slumped back into his chest as his reply took most of the energy out of him.

<i>Merci des dieux, de m'accorder la force pour supporter.</i>

Selere's eyes darkened. "Very well then," he said, drawing back a massive fist. The stone-sized appendage slammed into Pauer's head, sending him and the chair flying through the air. The man landed on his back, still conscious but barely so. The other two SS officers grabbed the chair and stood it upright. Selere walked over.

"Wake him up." Anothe bucket of water doused the recruit, then another. The man was thoroughly soaked, now, and that was just how Selere wanted him. Leaning down again, Selere said quietly, "If you don't tell me within the next ten seconds who it was that hired you to infiltrate, then you're going to die an excrutiatingly painful death. Do you understand?"

No response but a smile from the recruit. To emphasize his point, Selere took out another piece of rope and began to wrap it around the man's neck. With one wrap, he began to pull it tight, cutting off the man's airway. Slowly, ever so slowly, he began to lift Pauer off the ground as the man sputtered and choked. Then he lowered the chair once more, faced Pauer, and said, "Now, who hired you?"

Mezh's smile and smart-ass attitude quickly faded, if only outwardly. Pauer decided that it might not be a good idea to keep rattling the gorilla's cage.

A fresh red line ran the width of his neck, and would later bruise. It would be difficult to describe the type of pain Mezh was feeling at this point, pain stacked on top of pain still equaled pain - and Mezh felt it. Though at this point, outside of radical torture techniques they'd be hard pressed to make him feel anymore than he already was.

Mezh looked up to the hulking behemoth of a man who stood before him, gazing down on the battered and bloody Pauer, <i>angry</i>.

Mezh knew there was no answer that would bring any type of agreeable conclusion to this exchange. If Mezh were to cave, the best case scenario would be that he'd be judged unfit to join the Kommandos. The worst case scenario was that they would truly believe he was an infiltrator - and Mezh didn't even want to think about what that reality would bring, at least not <i>again</i>.

Pauer's other choice was to continue on the path that laid before him, and Mezh knew it was a painful one. But at this point, it didn't matter. Mezh saw through the hulk's facade, and he wasn't impressed. But for now - he had to play along.

So he did, and he would continue to do so, and it would be painful. If there were one thing that Mezh knew, he <i>knew</i> it would be painful.

He cocked his head up, almost sheepishly as he mustered all his strength to utter a reply. His voice raspy and broken from the rope which nearly sucked the life from him, he spoke. "I'm sorry, <b>sir</b>." He said, emphasizing the word, seemingly adding insult to injury. Yet he was the injured, not the injurer.

He continued, almost relucantly knowing that his next words were going to by him a heap of trouble.

"I..." He paused, his head shaking as he gathered all his strength to keep his head upright. "I... only..." His head fell again before rising sharply, "I only.. speak Basic."

He said, closing his one good eye and letting his head slump once again into his bare chest as he concluded his statement with his last bit of strength.

"I don't understand... a fucking word... you're saying."

Mezh's head remained down, and his eyes closed, but he imagined the hulking man to be teeming with anger. Whether or not this was true remained to be seen. If not, Mezh continued as if to make sure that his hypothesis proved true.

He craned his head to the side speaking to one of the men standing behind him.

"Can we get... a translator over here? I can't understand a word this man is saying."

The blow that came next rattled his skull as one of the men behind him granted a sharp blow to the base of his head with some type of hard metal object.

Selere was taken aback. It was one thing to make jokes while under torture; it was quite another to insult your captors while doing so. This guy was perfect. Still, protocol had to be followed. He nodded, and Stadloper produced a metal rod, striking Pauer in the head with it. The blow was enough to hurt, but not enough to render him unconscious. Selere then stepped in and slammed his huge fist into the man's face again, just behind the jaw. Pauer once again hit the ground, and once again the other two picked him up.

Another nod from Selere, and Brin spoke quietly into his comlink. The iron door opened, squeaking on its hinges, as another man entered and handed something to Selere. A round object attached to the end of a chain. Not something that looked very pretty, or very nice.

Selere faced the recruit again. "So you want to play games with us? Good. I enjoy causing pain." He began to spin the object. "You tell us now, or this ends your ability to have children - ever." For emphasis, he smashed the ball through the chair legs, shattering them and dropping Pauer to the floor, hard. "Retie him," Selere said. Another chair was brought in, this one with no seat. Pauer, still dazed, was stripped the rest of the way down and seated, once more tied to the chair.

"One last time, now, Mr. Pauer," said Selere. "You tell us who hired you to spy on us, and you can have children. Otherwise, your balls and pecker will be nothing more than slag. Understand that?"

Mezh was slumped back into the new seat which he'd been forced into. He laughed, almost maniacally so. He couldn't possibly be enjoying any of this, but you couldn't tell by looking at him.

He smiled a wide grin, exposing his teeth which were caked over with his own blood which had begun to dry. He let out a small final giggle as his laughter came to an end.

"You know..." He said, his head still somewhat bobbing back and forth, his neck not completely able to support its own weight. "I hate kids."

He began to laugh again, louder than ever. With each movement of his muscles the pain cut deeper than any knife possibly could. The combination of his broken ribs, sore neck, thoroughly beaten and bloody body were nothing compared to the anticipation of what would come next.

So, instead of succumbing to his torturer, he mocked him and offended him. If perchance Mezh Pauer was to die where he sat, he knew he would do so serving a just cause and he would do so with bravery and dignity.

"So... Mr. Giant Ape..." Mezh said looking up to the gigantic Kuati who loomed over him, he opened his eyes as wide as possible considering the fact that they were almost sealed shut. With his one "good" bloodshot eye, he looked the man squarely in the eye before proceeding, "Before you go playing with my equipment, couldn't you at least take me out to dinner first?"

He turned to the side, addressing one of the men behind him, "What ever happened to romance?"

As quickly as he was able to utter the last syllable, he was immediately met with a thundering crack to the side of his head, nailing him squarely in the ear. Mezh winced in pain once more, his ear throbbing in pain. He relaxed his muscles as he slumped into the chair, his head falling to the side, blood now steadily streaming out of his ear and down his neck.

His eyes closed as he nearly fell into unconsciousness, he wouldn't be able to take much more of this before he did.

Even as Stadloper struck Pauer again, Selere held up his hand. "Enough," he said. "Mr. Pauer, I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but it is a necessary initiation into the Kommandos. Every individual who joins must go through a form of such humiliation and pain, not only to prove their mettle, but also to test their loyalty. You have passed with flying colors."

He smiled. "Release Mr. Pauer." The two SS officers produced vibroknives and cut his bonds, then handed him his clothes. Selere continued. "Head down to the medical suite, get yourself cleaned up. I'll expect you to report for duty tomorrow...Lieutenant."

With that, the three Kommandos turned and exited through the iron door, leaving Pauer to find his way back out. It would be good for him.