Coruscant's Open Terrain

It was a rare thing that the wretched devourer of man got a chance to sit back and unwind, but every so often there was a break in his busy schedule, allowing for some personal time. Ordinarily he would have spent it surrounded in a sea of fur lined bodies, embraced on all sides by warmth, exuding a pure aura of physical pleasure. Not this time. He'd spent too much time wrapped up in fun and games. Today all he wanted to do was enjoy a good book and sip an expensive stim-caf.

And so it was that the prince of perversion found himself sitting outside at a posh cafe on the upper east end of Coruscant's rolling expansive city. The black scaled fiend sat there beneath a bright umbrella shading him from the rays of the sun. The slitted pupils of his crimson orbs flitted back and forth, skimming the current page before his forked tongue slithered out from his razor tooth filled maw and dabbed the thumb of one clawed finger, which he used to turn to the next page. He was reading one of his favorites, 'Training Ewoks for Dummies', by George Lucas. Yet the deeper he dipped into the book, the more his attention waned, his mind distracted by thoughts of times past.

Nothing had been quite the same since the Fallanassi had left. Oh there had been glory, chaos, and a whole host of wicked exploits that had ensued, but it all failed to fill the sizable hole in his life that the blasted four eyed woman had left. He missed her soapy scent, the way she scarfed down steaming mounds of broccoli, and of course the way her cruelty complemented his own. Terrorizing the innocent wasn't quite the same without having Major around to enjoy it with.

There was also the issue of the madness that had set in without her warped words to reign in some of his more base desires. He allowed his actions to go too far, destroying the City of the Eye in the process and nearly murdering his beloved brothers. He had always planned on killing them, but not like that, never as an animal slaved to its instincts. It was then that he broke, fleeing from the Cradle of the Eye, desperately seeking a cure to his ailments. He knew the decay of his mind was a result of his constant hunger, that insatiable desire to devour everything, a bottomless black hole that threatened to swallow the galaxy. It had driven him to a place most strange, the Baran Do of Dorin, monks and mystics with ways foreign to his Order. They offered him a cure in exchange for a promise, that he would never again seek to do harm and would give up his wicked ways for good. In his moment of weakness he gave in, swearing that it would be so. Days turned into weeks, weeks to months, months to years. His patience nearly expired, but inevitably, the Baran Do had kept their promise. They removed his hunger, banishing it to the furthest reaches of the void. Yet the process had left him vulnerable. The spells and alchemical concoctions he used to keep his genetic curse at bay did not spare him that day. The man had once more transformed into the serpent, turning him into the beast you see here today. In his rage, he broke his promise to the monks, turning on them the instant his change was complete. He devoured each and every one of them, sating his fury on their flesh, drinking the essence of their life force. In that moment the hunger returned, stronger than ever.

So you see, despite the few things he missed about the girl, it wasn't the loneliness that made him long for her. It was necessity. He was a terrible force to be unleashed upon the galaxy, equaled only by the other aspect lords of the Eye: War, Death, & Chaos. Yet where they had full control, Famine had only time. The wasting had begun, soon the need to devour would compel him to unspeakable acts. A weapon without control was a dangerous thing.

He sipped from the porcelain latte cup, savoring the caramel flavor, his hand shaking erratically.

Eyes widened and slitted pupils ceased their repetitive dance from left to right and back again.


That voice, the one that grated in his ear as both welcome and irritating at the same time, could it be? Here he was drowning in thoughts of his own misfortune, longing for times past when the galaxy seemed simpler, as did his place within it, when out of the blue she returned? No, it wasn't possible. His mind was playing tricks on him again. She was nothing more than a fabrication of thought, proof that the madness was already beginning to set in, though it had never before caused him to hallucinate. It must be getting worse. How far had he slipped? Was he even on Coruscant at all, or was he waist deep in a sea of corpses, coated in decaying filth and pitted with the grizzly trophies he was so fond of collecting? That seemed a far more rational explanation.

Yet he felt her. Not just the trace of warmth each breath she exhaled left on the wind, but her ethereal presence as well, an aura that he could discern even in the oppressive goo of life essence that teemed everywhere on Coruscant like a swarm of flies. He knew well that the Fallanassi could deceive both his natural and unnatural senses, even if he wasn't going mad then there was every possibility that this was a doppelganger sent to haunt him, but he didn't believe it. As terrible as it sounds, he felt...hope? Yes, perhaps that was it. A foreign concept for sure, but he knew not how else to describe it.

Dragus had to be sure, nor would he be gentle with his investigation. If this was Major then there was only place she could be in proximity to the saurian Sith. Behind and slightly to the right. The first to move was his tail, for it too took form behind the majority of Famine's mass of scales, either coiled or thrashing in restless animation. The long serpentine appendage swung around behind the barabel, striking out in an instant of rapid movement, quick as a viper's poisoned kiss. As though possessed of a mind of its own, the tail attempted to coil around the skinny...no? Lean, yes certainly, but not so skinny, not any longer. A quarter second's probe told the tail that this Fallanassi possessed slightly greater girth than the last. Someone had been working out. In any event, the tail still sought to complete the task asked of it, attempting to wrap itself around the girl's midriff, using one or two less coils than it might have been able to fit prior.

At the same time the saurian Sith rose from his seat and spun, knocking over the table and chair as he lunged at Major, attempting to catch her by the throat in his clawed left hand. Perhaps not the nicest way to say hello, but part of him was still concerned that what he was seeing wasn't real, that she couldn't possibly have come back. If he didn't catch her and hold on with all his might, she might simply vanish again and leave him to the horror of his own mind. Regardless of whether he caught her or not, puffs of steam hissed from his slitted nostrils, and his eyes locked on the physical form of the Fallanassi. Those predatory red orbs glowed, saturated as they were with the Darkside, allowing Dragus to look on this ghost with his witch sight.

Be this hallucination or the return of his long lost, yet not forgotten, companion...he would soon know.

It sounded like her, smelled like her, and... He released his clawed hand from her throat, bringing it before his mouth and lapping at the Fallanassi' blood on his fingertips with a few swishes of his forked tongue. ...tasted like her. It was her. Major's powers could have fooled all of his other senses, but blood doesn't lie, and this particular strand most certainly belonged to his precious pet. Dragus' crimson slitted gaze continued to bore holes into the Fallanassi, analyzing her, noting that which had changed since the last time they had been together. His mouth stayed open, just enough to show off the glistening incisors that even now dripped with hot salivation. When he spoke his voice grated on the ear, thick with rasp and the characteristic over-stressing of the letter 's' that was common of the galaxy's sentient lizard folk.

"Your bladder iz the leassst of my concernz." He hissed, finishing with a savage snarl.

That wasn't so much a reflection of his mood as it was a statement of truth. Famine had spent plenty of time submersed in the filth thick water of many a sewer, for reasons the rest of his Order still had difficulty fathoming. If the Fallanassi pissed herself and dripped on his tail, it was highly likely it would go unnoticed. He had experienced worse, having ventured into Death's crypts on Sump, witnessing first hand the rotting cadavers his brother brought to bed. Or worse still, having endured the revolting stench of the droppings left behind by War's pet rancor, Frizzbee, after it devoured Famine's car keys and the saurian Sith was forced to retrieve them from the still warm pile of digested gamorrean tribemen. A little piddle on the tail was not a problem.

And he wasn't quite ready to release her. He squeezed a little harder, not enough to break a bone, but more than was required to put a slight strain on her breathing. He put his hands together in front of him, tapping his index digits together as he debated what to do with her now that he had confirmed his suspicions.

Dragus knew he should kill her. It's what any of his brothers would have done if they had found themselves in a similar situation with one of their flock, but it was only a moment earlier that he had been inwardly reflecting on his need for her, a need that hadn't lessened to any significant degree in the last few seconds. If anything her sour blood, intoxicating as it was, had made him hungrier. He wanted more, not just a physical craving of the flesh, but a desire to suckle on her essence as well. His mastery over the malevolent fey's draining techniques was to such an extent that he could take from her only what he wanted. A day, a week, a month, a year, more if he desired. He could devour it all and leave behind nothing but a dried up dessicated husk, dust and bones. However, the idea of lessening her somehow seemed wrong, and not in the usual perverse way that the saurian Sith tended to enjoy, but a squandering of some precious resource. She was a rare commodity of remarkable quality, one of a kind so far as he knew. He supposed he could create a new one, take enough from her flesh now to spawn her in a lab just as he had been born, a perfect clone submissive to his whims. Yet even that felt somewhat lacking. It appeared that in his most honest of opinions, there was nothing like the original, no substitute worthy. Which meant something had to be done that wouldn't permanently tarnish this prized possession, but first there were questions that demanded answers.

"Where have you been?" He snapped. "And why did you leave me?" Not why did you leave. Why did you leave 'ME', the only person whose satisfaction had ever been the Sith's concern.

The Fallanassi's explanation was equal parts amusing and irritating. He could imagine her embroiled in battle easily enough, for he had seen his fair share of scrapes with the woman in tow. She had a certain knack for leading troops, what with the speeches she gave and her tendency to charge into battle wielding a bayonet or that flame thrower of hers. The last he enjoyed the most. There was something sickly satisfying about watching men roast alive. Entertaining enough when performed with a flame cannon, even more so when she had cast an illusion to make the weak minded think they were burning to death, terrorizing them so thoroughly their heart stopped. Thinking about it warmed his blood and tickled his morbid fascination in just the right way. It took will of mind to put that aside and focus on the implication of her claim. It was Dragus who had invaded Reecee in the Order's name, Dragus who had sacked the surface and bled its people, Dragus who had ultimately conquered the planet and claimed it for the greater Sith Empire, and Dragus who had gifted it to his precious pet as a reward for her long standing service. That said, it was not a gift he had wanted to give. That world along with all the others the Covenant of Blood had defeated should have fallen under the Price of Perversions domain, yet instead the High Council had demanded he hand it off to a lieutenant, no doubt fearing his increased galactic control would one day become so great that he would surpass them. They had wanted it to go to Viox Savage, a rising Sith that Famine had brought into the Order's dark fold. Dragus had no intention of doing such a thing, sharing with a rival was unseemly, even if Viox had played an instrumental part in the planet's capture. Instead he convinced his brothers that the planet should go to his most trusted second, Major. Even all they had been through, he still did not believe she was ready for such a role, sovereignty over a planet was no fickle thing. Yet he had been under duress, a decision had to be made, and there was no other. He had warned her that day, letting her know the price for failure in this duty, of the punishment that would follow.

So, when she claimed her reason for absence was due to insurrection on Reecee, he did not question why it was that she had not informed him or sought his aid. His threats had been clear enough. Nor could he truly be mad that she had struggled in a duty he himself did not believe she was ready to take on, or was even readily capable of. Though he did wonder why it was that she had faced such adversity in this particular task. Had he not given her a small fleet to rain fire down upon those that questioned her rule? Even a victory-class destroyer should have been enough to settle the dispute quickly. That said, he did not know the exact details of what had happened. Perhaps there was fair reason for the length of time it took. In any event, that still wasn't what troubled him. It was the gaping holes in the plot, large enough to fly an Imperial dreadnought through. She might not have been lying, but there was more to her absence that she was claiming. He was certain of it.

He was about to release her, to loosen the coils of his tail and allow her to draw air into her lungs with untroubled breaths, until of course she made a dangerous mistake. When Major laid her hands upon him, Dragus recoiled, snarling and snapping his dagger filled maw at her fingers. There had been a time when he might have appreciated her touch, even enjoyed it, but that human need for contact had left with the rest of the clone's humanity. Even as a scarred ghoul, he had imagined what it would be like to show his dominance over her in other ways, such a base display of power that men often felt the need to take over women, or other men on occasion, or ewoks. Not now though, he had risen past the need. The only flesh he craved was that which he would devour. If she thought to appeal to him in such a way with her gentle caress, she was sorely mistaken. There was nothing to appeal to. Furious at her over presumptuousness, he stepped back and hefted his tail, lifting the Fallanassi off the ground. Then he turned it sideways and brought it down, attempting to slam the girl into the ground, knocking some common sense into her if possible.

Hissing. "That iz no longer your decisssion. What makesss you think I need you any longer? Perhapz I have outgrown you."

Every instinct told him that he did need her, and not just that, but that he wanted her in the selfish way that children did not wish to share a prized possession. She was his. The Fallanassi did not only belong with him, but 'to' him as well. Now that she had returned to him, he had no desire to give her up. But he wasn't about to let her know that. Call him cruel, but it was far more enjoyable to watch her attempt to please him. Besides, wasn't there some sort of punishment due? Swatting her around a bit was lenient in the extreme when compared to what he would have done to anyone else who had displeased him. Most he would have broken and discarded, like playthings he no longer cared for. Not Major. While he enjoyed roughing her up, she was the one possession he would not allow to break. His precious pet...

Not for an instant did he believe the Fallanassi had it in her to blow them both to smithereens. The capacity, quite obviously yes, but not the will. He'd seen her behavior in enough scrapes to know that while she could be reckless and at times wild, she was far from suicidal, emotionally distraught of not. Which led to the second area of disbelief. While miles more cheerful and animate than Dragus, anger exempt, the Major he knew wasn't prone to fits of emotion. As Famine was often a creature of his own dark desires, the Fallanassi was a creature of intelligence, logical and thoughtful. Tears, bah. He didn't buy them. They were as much an illusion as the bomb strapped to his head.

Or was that real? He knew from experience that his fascist companion had power that could fool his senses, so even if he felt the weapon and smelled the chemical residue, it could all be just another one of her parlor tricks. But prior to announcing herself, she had been behind him, hovering over him while he was unaware. It wouldn't be much of a stretch to imagine the Fallanassi using her powers to conceal a bomb even as she strapped it tohis head. And if she could fake an emotional display, could she not equally fake the fact that Dragus was in power, when in actuality she held complete control over his continued existence. He didn't know, nor could he be certain. Ultimately that was what won him over, more than any threat of mutually assured destruction. Questing for perfection had bred in him a desire to unravel every mystery. Understanding her powers was still one step among many towards the path of envisioned perfection.

It started as a deep chuckle, slowly delivered, then rising in pitch and pace. The tone of it struck a cord of cruel amusement, with perhaps even a note of pride, not for his own cleverness but for the Fallanassi's actions. Dragus' legs bent at the knee, lowering him so that he could look more closely at the detonator wielding woman.

"That's what I like about you, my dear, you never cease to amaze. Yes, you can still kill me. The ability to do so has never been beyond you, and for that reason, I will allow you to continue to serve in my shadow. At least until that is no longer the case. When that day comes, we will need to reevaluate this relationship of ours. Until then..." The coils of his tail began to slacken, releasing the girl before retreating completely. He then stood, looming over her for a moment before turning away. The nice thing to do would have been to offer her a hand and heft her from the floor, but if chivalry was not dead then at least it was a foreign concept to Dragus. Now with his back to her, he looked over his shoulder, staring at her though not quite meeting her eye. "...I am pleased to have you returned to me. Plots and schemes are best produced when shared with a collaborator of, if not equally astute mind, then at least suitable ear. There are many things I wish to whisper in yours, my Fallanassi."

Oh yes indeed, but where to start? So much had happened in her absence, with so much more yet to come. Treason, revenge, manipulation...some of each was in the works. Should he regale her with his plans to punish those closest, those who had committed the gravest of all insults against the foul lord of Famine? To be ignored. Indeed, it seemed as good a place as any to begin. However, he'd wait to see if her curiosity would compel her to draw the information out of him.

Dragus temporarily lowered his mental barriers, allowing the Fallanassi in, should the promise of information be enough to lure her into stepping into the dark dimension that was the Sith clone's mind.

And lead he did. Each one of those memories was like a window into the past, not just for Dragus, but for both of them. The Fallanassi had been there for much of the story, and while at times she vanished, her role in the plot was always pivotal, serving to prelude some great change. The scene stretched out, each window becoming a pane of glass, a single scale on some monstrous beast. Major had been inside the Famine Lord's head before, but much had happened in her absence, and like his flesh the mind too became a thing transformed. Gone was the elaborate labyrinth an unwary soul could become lost in, replaced by a sea of coils that wrapped everything, writhing as though to the rhythm of one giant heart beat. There, looming over the dark ocean of scaly flesh, was the massive visage of the Sith clone. His eyes were the size of stars, burning a deep red like boiling blood. His open maw was all oppressing, promising fathomless depths beyond a swarm of razor sharp teeth that dripped smoking poison. There was no escaping, his presence surrounded all, permeating the very air in this imagined place. When he spoke, his voice boomed, resonating as though elicited from the mouth of a titan. A foul wreak followed, rancid to the point of revulsion, with just a tang of familiar copper. A flag pole sized tongue slithered out of the mouth of the great devourer, forked like a living trident, recoiling with each spoken word.

"You already know most of this tale. You were there for almost all of it, ill fated to follow the foulest of fiends on his dark journey. Let us skip over what you know, of a Sith being born in blackness, rising from nothing to a position of prestige. We did travel, you and I, rising from one incident to the next. Always growing, becoming something that even I didn't fully comprehend. We defeated our enemies..." The fight with Eradomens appeared on a number of scales. "...we conquered worlds..." Reecee dominated the imagery. "...and visited war upon the galaxy." Myrkr, the chaos that ensued, followed by the vanishing of his most valuable board piece.

Beads of poison swelled at the tips of Dragus' monstrous fangs, dripping onto the scaled floor, forming a series of pools. Each pool shimmered and swirled, rising from the ground to form a number of shapes, several individuals who all held one thing in common: they were all Dragus. As he was in the beginning, to his first metamorphosis, to the shedding of his scales in favor of a more human form. First handsome, then terribly scarred, becoming a wretched ghoul like thing with teeth filed to points and eyes that bespoke madness. It was the ghoul who spoke next, the massive saurian dominating the background becoming silent to allow this hideous creature to speak.

"I had everything that I had ever dreamed of. I ascended from ignorance and ignominy, rising to the prestigious position of High Lord, a being that ruled over countless worlds and answered only to a single set of peers. My brothers: Bacca, Mortale, Kaan, and Havok. We were equals. I had it all, everything I could ever desire, except...you. Perhaps that was the start of it. Higher than I had ever been before, and yet still I was discontent. Like the hole in my being that we have struggled over these many years to fill, there was something amiss. An itch I could never quite scratch. One night, as I lay in bed afflicted by night terrors, it came to me. An equal. An equal? Perhaps in raw power and influence, but an EQUAL?! The indignity, it was so absurd. How dare any presume to be my equal. This happy family I had formed, it was all a lie, nothing more than a house of cards. They were titans, all of them, but what drove them was a pale spark compared to the hellish supernova that led me. They had reached the pinnacle of all that they could be, becoming stagnant, refusing to grow. It sickened me. I lashed out, like a child, destroying everything I had worked so hard for, recklessly crumbling years of hard work. It had to be destroyed, my potential for growth had barely been scratched, I had to prove that. Not to them, but to me. I knew I had to become something more."

A star destroyer in orbit. It rained down on the City of the Eye, launching Kryptman's extinction warheads onto Pzob in order to put down a simple uprising launched by some heretic named Jarypt. The jealousy of Dragus had become manifest, taking the form of a beast that had nearly consumed the Order. The official explanation had been that the death echo of a billion people all at once, combined with Pzob's darkside saturated soil, created an unnatural thing that nearly consumed the planet. The truth of it was, the Lord of Famine's hunger had spawned something foul, birthed in his black heart, given form by his actions. Even that wasn't enough. The scene changed again, this time showing the ghoul in the Sith temple on Pzob, surrounded by acolytes. Angry words were spoken between brothers. Dragus unleashed his pawns, forever earning the scorn of Mortale.

He left after, packed his bags and simply departed. The Fallanassi had seen the memory of the Baran Do, of what Dragus had tried to do and what had happened as a result. What came next was a brief period of nothingness. Famine had blotted it out. Even he couldn't truly say what had happened in the months following. There were whispers that he had traveled to the Unknown Regions, staring into the deep black of the void, devouring fringe worlds as it pleased him. Whatever the truth of it, he did eventually return, arriving as expected back on Pzobian soil. His brothers greeted him, once more accepting him as an equal and engaging in typical Sith combat rituals. They told him of their plans, the scene depicted a sinister grinning Mortale whispering of how they would fade into obscurity, nothing but a bad memory on the galaxy. Instead they would work behind the Imperial Remnant, conducting their business from the shadows. The representations of Dragus faded, and once more the looming monstrous form of Famine began to speak to Major.

"You see what they tried to do? All we had accomplished was to be erased, all so that they could proceed with their plans, continuing their pointless oath to a dead Emperor who deserves neither our love or respect. The Imperial Remnant is a powerful bureaucratic machine, fascist at its root, which you surely must approve of. But it is secular, and therein lies its greatest fault. This galaxy can only be controlled through fear. The peons must have their gods. They must be able to imagine the horrors that will befall them if they lack in faith, even if the true consequences of our displeasure are so much more. The Order must maintain its public presence, but alas, the decision had been made. The High Council decided this course in my absence, there was no turning back even if I now gave voice to protest. So, I did as they bade, for that choice was taken from me."

The daemonic serpent snarled, spitting hissing poison, forming a circle of smoking ooze around his beloved pet's astral form. Then, as surely as the anger fit came, it departed. Replacing rage was amusement, a Sith smiling so perversely it might have been his birthday.

"Their first mistake. I will pursue this course they have taken my Order on, but not to their satisfaction. In merging with the Remnant, the answer to my next rise of power has been given form. On the world of Prakith is where I will make my move. The leader of the Imperial Knights, a man I have met but once, will either meet his end or become consumed by my corrupting influence. With a cadre of Imperial Knights at my command, I will sweep away the concealed tatters of the Order, annihilating in secret my brothers, in the shadows that they have run to, one after another. Make no mistake, I love my brothers, all of them. They are more dear to me than anything else in this life, but their time has come and past. Power, as you must know my dear, is poorly shared even at the best of times. Simply put, it was never meant to be. It belongs to the most deserving, and who is more deserving than I?" Rhetorical. "The time of my ascension is at hand. I would have you with me, to serve as you always have. Where all others have failed, you have continued to prove of value."

A kindness he didn't care to express, but this was his mind after all, there were no secrets here. If she looked deep enough, buried in the billions of scales, there was one depicting an ideal picture of the future. A galaxy turned to ash, its inhabitants dead to the last sentient life, save one. There was the Fallanassi, bleeding wrists chained to the arm of a throne crafted from the skulls and sinew of the vanquished, looking wretched and wasted. Sitting upon the fell chair was Famine, sated at last.

"It is only right that you are there for yet another pivotal moment in my growth."

Cass rubbed his eyes as he turned from the bright light of his datapad. He flashed back to the events leading up to this. He looked over to the duo of unconscious guards a few feet, leaned against a wall. Cas had decided to use his Cassel Neck Grip© to dispatch of them. He was actually surprised that it had worked. All those hours watching those holo-vids really payed off. He looked back to his datapad and tapped in several commands, overriding the door controls, and going further into the system. He set a loop of the security cameras up after a few moments of recording, and yawned. They really should encrypt their systems better. Of course Cassel could get through any kind of lock. Be it code or key. He preferred key, for fun. It just wasn't the same.*
*Cassel tip-toed into the warehouse, sticking to the shadows. Spotting several workers, he giggled, then covered his mouth with his hand. His other hand took his hand off his mouth, and he gave the covering mouth a thankful yet angry look. Cassel began tip-toeing further into the warehouse, now a smile on his face as he got deeper into the building. It was only a matter of time until he came across what he was looking for, many stacked crates with marking in Huttese. The little imp's face brightened up and he took out a knife, and opened up one of the boxes that was by themselves. He reached in a pulled out a blaster, and shook his head. Not what he was looking for. He moved on, from crate to crate, tossing things onto the floor when he was unsatisfied with the contents of the crate.*

A worker walked by, attracted by the noise of things hitting the durasteel floor. He watched for a few minutes as Cassel continued rummaging through a crate, pulled out a fez hat, and put it on his head, after the natural oohs and aahs. The worker frowned deeply, and walked over, grabbing the 3'7" tall fellow by the shoulder and spinning him around.

-Worker-
"Hey! What do'ya think you're doin'? Those fezzes are to go straight to the Boss."

Cassel, realizing he had been caught fez-handed, squinted his eyes and waved his right hand, pointer middle and thumb extended, in front of his face.

"These are not the fezzes you are looking for....The fezzes you want are over there...."

The worker frowned and seemed confused. Nevertheless he reached for his blaster. Cassel brought his right hand to his own face and began arguing with it.

"You know that you're supposed to Mind Trick him so we don't get caught!....I don't care if you don't want to. Do you want to be locked up?....Yes I know that it'd be fun to break out of of whatever they put us in, but we have to find what we came here looking for.....I don't know what we're looking for.....I thought you did!....You don't!? Well what are we doing here?!"

The worker advanced on Cassel, reaching for him to keep him in place, but Cassel moved fast. He grabbed the man's wrist and jerked him down into the hard floor. His left hand went to the man's neck and he went unconscious. Cassel clapped his hands together happily and walked away, fez and all, to the next set of crates.