The Quarry

The Quarry - Part 26

It had been thirteen hours since Versa had been taken.

The Mandalorian stood outside of the warehouse. The building was unassuming from the outside, looking abandoned for the most part, windows blocked out and red paint on the door chipping. The only hint that there was something going on was the surveillance system that started tracking him as soon as he got within one hundred meters of the door. He approached the front door, hands held out at his sides, empty.

"I'm here for Versa Horne," he called. He was met with silence. "Open the door or I'll break it down. There won't be any negotiating after that point."

There was a scuffling on the inside before the door opened a crack. "Identify yourself," came a growl.

"You know who I am."

There were hushed whispers inside before the door opened wider. Din stepped in and was met by a large Devronian and a human man. The Devronian yanked the spear off of his back, and Din made no move to stop him, watching as he twirled it clumsily.

"Arms out," the man demanded. Din complied as he was patted down by the Devronian while the human kept the blaster aimed at his head.

"You might want to point that at a place I'm not covered in beskar," he said quietly. "Otherwise you're not going to do much." He heard the Devronian snort from behind him as the man's brows furrowed with anger. He moved his blaster to press it against Din's throat. The Mandalorian shrugged.

"What's this?" the Devronian grunted, holding the Darksaber in front of Din's helmet.

"Torch."

"Hmm." The Devronian turned the hilt over in his hands a few more times, staring down the hilt at one point before shrugging and putting it back in the Mandalorian's belt underneath his cloak. The human was touching his ear, listening to an earpiece.

"Understood. Yeah, we'll bring him in." He unhooked a pair of binders from his belt, tossing them at the Mandalorian. "Put those on."

Din watched him for a second before bending down, clicking the cuffs in place around his wrists. The human gave him a rough shove, and he stumbled a bit, casting a look backwards. "Walk," the human demanded. The Devronian grunted, rolling his eyes at the obvious attempt by his cohort to try and retain some sort of dominance in the situation. Din squared his shoulders, walking forward.

They walked the length of the warehouse before he was placed in a lift and taken down several levels, the blaster still pressing into his back. The doors opened and he was shoved forward again. He's going to regret that. They turned down a few corridors before they walked through two double doors into a massive circular chamber.

Din guessed they had repurposed the sewers to hide, and it brought him a small amount of satisfaction. Like the rats they are. The room was concrete, several hallways branching off of it with guards at each one. A platform sat in the middle with an obnoxious throne of sorts in the middle, and slouched in that throne was Boros Farr.

Din had never laid eyes on the man before, but the hatred he felt at the mention of his name immediately intensified. Now I have a face to put with the name. Farr was splayed out across the chair, legs spread wide as he lounged, drinking from a flagon. He had blonde hair that was slicked back, blue eyes that flicked back and forth between Din and his guards as they shuffled forward. A long scar reached from his left temple under his eye and across the bridge of his nose, ending in the meat of his right cheek. He seemed unsurprised to see the Mandalorian in front of him. Din's fingers flexed as he walked forward before being shoved one more time. He looked over his shoulder at the human who sneered at him.