The Mercenaries
The mercenaries recoiled in their seats, their faces paling as the images flooded their thoughts.
Ren Talik
Ren clutched his head, his prosthetic arm trembling as the mental images overwhelmed him. He saw Kren Malis and his crew trapped in what could only be described as a waking nightmare—endless suffering, every moment dragging on in an eternity of pain. The mercenaries were aware, unable to die, reliving their worst fears and regrets over and over again.
When the vision faded, Ren gasped for air, his throat tight. This isn’t just punishment—it’s hell itself, he thought, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple.
"I… I understand," Ren stammered, looking up at Spotty with wide, fearful eyes. "We’ll… we’ll come straight to you. I swear it."
Kara Delrin
Kara’s cigarette fell from her lips, forgotten as she gripped the edge of the table. Her sharp, cynical demeanor was shattered, replaced by a rare vulnerability. The visions of torment, of despair so profound it twisted the soul, were seared into her mind.
"Sweet stars," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. "You don’t play around, do you?"
Spotty’s lips quirked in a faint, humorless smile, but she said nothing.
Jor Venik
The youngest of the group, Jor, was trembling visibly, his knuckles white as he clutched his drink. He could still hear the screams echoing in his mind, still feel the weight of the endless suffering Kren and his crew were enduring.
"I’ll never take a job like that," Jor said quickly, his voice cracking. "I’ll never… I’ll come straight to you, I promise."
Kismet
Kismet sat elegantly atop the table, his tail flicking lazily as he observed the mercenaries. He let out a soft, amused purr. "Smart choice," he said telepathically, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction.
He glanced at Spotty, his golden eyes glinting. You always know how to leave an impression, he remarked.
Spotty’s crystalline eyes flicked down to him briefly, her lips twitching in amusement. It’s a gift, she replied silently.
The Bartender
The bartender, a burly man named Hal Dorn, had watched the scene unfold from behind the bar, his hands frozen mid-wipe on a dirty glass. When Spotty turned her attention to him, he stiffened, his heart hammering in his chest.
"Good evening," Spotty said, her tone lighter now, almost casual. She placed a sleek Imperial credit card on the counter, sliding it toward him with a graceful gesture. "Rounds on me."
Hal stared at the card for a moment, his disbelief evident. Finally, he managed to croak out, "Y-Your Majesty, that’s… more than enough to buy out the whole bar for a week."
Spotty smiled, the warmth in her expression easing some of the tension in the room. "Then you’d better make it a memorable week," she said with a wink.
Other Patrons
The other patrons of the Broken Comet exchanged hushed whispers, their eyes darting between Spotty and the mercenaries.
"Did you see their faces?" one patron murmured. "Whatever she showed them… I don’t ever want to know."
Another nodded, their drink forgotten in their hand. "That’s why no one crosses the Empire. She’s not just a ruler—she’s a force of nature."
Spotty
Spotty turned back toward the portal, her presence still commanding the room’s attention. She looked over her shoulder at the mercenaries one last time, her voice calm but firm.
"Remember," she said, "loyalty to the Empire is rewarded. Treachery is not."
With that, she stepped through the portal, Kismet leaping gracefully after her. The golden light vanished, leaving the bar in stunned silence.
Aftermath
The mercenaries sat in silence, their drinks untouched.
Ren finally broke the quiet, his voice hoarse. "I don’t know about you, but if I ever hear about a job like that…"
Kara nodded quickly, cutting him off. "We don’t take it. We go to her."
Jor gulped down the rest of his drink, his hands still shaking. "Yeah," he said softly. "Straight to her."
Hal, behind the bar, looked at the gleaming Imperial credit card in his hand and let out a shaky laugh. "Well," he said, his voice louder than intended, "drinks are on the Empress, folks!"
The bar erupted in a mix of nervous laughter and relieved cheers, the tension slowly dissipating as the patrons raised their glasses.
But the mercenaries remained quiet, the images Spotty had shown them burned into their memories—a stark reminder of the consequences of arrogance and disloyalty.