"Why'd I even bother with this thing?"
This aging slaver was getting too old for this kind of 'product.' He swore to himself that he'd limit himself to the less 'physically capable' species after a close encounter with an angry wookie that got out of his holding cell. At first there was the potential to sell this monstrosity, this killer of such a rare species, to a Hutt of some sort. But when the 'product' overheard this, it made the slaver a certain promise that it would do his best to uphold to him if he went along with it. Usually unphased by threats from those in captivity with no future of being free, the slaver was perturbed by this greatly, for whatever reason.
He was closing into the space port over Ryloth soon, in a short queue to dock. As he scrolled through his manifest on his holopad, he found himself repeatedly scrolling to that one certain product and mulling his decisions over. "I gotta get rid of this thing."
He looked at the price. "10,000 credits?" He thought. "Anyone will take one look at this thing and wager he's not worth more than 2,000 for how dangerous he is." He adjusted the price down to 2k credits and updated the product's sale profile. After staring at it for a little longer, he reconsidered, and lowered it to a very generous 1 grand. "If he's not gone after this, I'm spacing him. Don't care how much I got him for."
The slaver pressed a button on the intercom and leaned in as he observed his ship gently self-navigating into the docking bays of the space station,"X-55, lemme get 50 general servants, 50 hard labor, 20 pleasure products out in the bay ready for processing. Oh, and, uh... Put 'Nasty' in the lot with the hard labor slaves." He lifted his finger off the button and leaned back into his chair. There was a pause, then a robotic voice replied,"Affirmative, captain. Interrogative, is it wise to put that Worgian with the hard labor group? My manifest records indicate he is a--" The captain quickly leaned forward and pressed down on the intercom button again, cutting the droid off,"Just do as I say, X-55. Make sure his shock collar is operational, put a muzzle on him, bind his hands, chain his legs, and get a couple chokers on him. He'll be a hard sell, but I've done worse than him!" The droid immediately replied,"Yes, captain."
The captain hummed to himself as he took a sip from his mug, kicking his feet up as the ship entered its final docking procedure to the Rylothian space station. "These rich, fruity Confederate types won't know the difference anyhow."
The slaver registered himself a spot to 'set up shop' on the main floor of the space station. He quite liked the security of a civilized space station, less chance for his merchandise to escape as well. Straightening out his tunic, he watched as some affluent looking Twi'leks accessed the portable holoconsoles that his droids had set up in front of his venue. He smirked to himself as he saw them scroll through some of the 'pleasure' models. "Easy money." He moved to sit at a desk placed between the two roles of consoles. As he was just settling into the chair he heard a pained bark and followed by an angered roar behind the venue. Some of the Twi'leks looked up at the slaver in a startled manner. He smiled and nodded at them, gritting his teeth as he feigned nonchalantly leaning back into his chair. He pulled his handheld communicator off his belt and angrily whispered hoarsely threw it,"X-55, I told you about the damn muzzle!"
Back behind the venue, in the dark and gloomy holding area for the slaves being sold, laid an arrangement of crates with shielded door barriers and several slots open on either side. There was a large group of slaves of various races and sexes already outside their crates and ready to be taken out into the venue, surrounded by a small security detachment. At the end of the row of crates there laid an especially thick and large crate that was surrounded by several security droids with stun batons and shock lances. One droid with a white line down the middle of its head pointed to the crate. "Security units, interrogative, ready to proceed with transportation of product: Nasty?" They all blurted out at once,"Affirmative." X-55 dropped its hand and nodded,"Proceed."
A loud growl erupted from the darkness that permeated behind the red shield of the crate. The hulking mass of Mirvak, wearing only the rags his master allowed him, appeared before the droids. He was bound at his hands, his feet in chains, his shock collar was blinking actively, but there was no muzzle to be found. X-55 raised his hand as the droids readied their shock lances to stab through the slots on either side of the crate. "Halt! Product: Nasty, is not muzzled. Cannot be processed to holding area until it is muzzled."
A droid walked up with a large leather muzzle, and the hair on the back of Mirvak's head and neck stood on end as he growled lowly, snarling as he spoke in a deep rumbling voice,"Lose your hand if you try that, machine." He backed away into the darkness of the crate as he finished saying this. X-55 looked to the other droids surrounding the crate and lowered his hand again,"Prosecute!"
The lances were slotted into the sides of the crate, and Mirvak's body was lit up in the darkness as blue and white arcs of light struck across his body. He let out a dry, pained bark, as his body shook violently and he fell to his knees, absorbing the shock damage as his body convulsed. He laid his head down to the floor but was very much still conscious, his arms supporting his weight as they tried in vain to pick himself up. X-55 looked down to the holopad in its hand, and with one mechanical digit it accessed Mirvak's shock collar and upped the percentage to 75 percent. The convulsing Mirvak roared in great pain and anger, raising his head, scowling so hard into X-55 he could have burned a hole in its processor. The other slaves covered their ears as the monstrosity roared. The roar was shorlty cut off by another burst of electricity that halted his lungs.
Mirvak was in so much pain he could no longer make a sound, his maw agape as he focused all his hatred on X-55, which stood there holding the device of his pain. As X-55 reached down to up the percentage again, its torso began to creak and shutter. The droid's head turned off to one side erratically, then its neck bent down at a 90 degree angle. Its chassis was crushed inward as its voice module began to call out strangely,"Prosecute-Prosecute-Prosecute-Prosekeeeeeeeuuuoooowooooo--" its head completely twisted off and fell to the ground with a clang. Its arms fell to its side and the droid crumpled inward. Mirvak lowered his head and passed out from the pain, his amateur force rage having unknowingly 'pinged' himself to other force sensitives in the area.
The droids continued to shock for a moment more, then one of them, X-54, called out,"Cease, product is incapacitated." The droids retracted their shock lances and lowered the shield on the crate. The portable communicator lit up on X-55's hip, the slaver captain whispering angrily,"X-55, I told you about the damn muzzle!" As two droids moved in to secure the muzzle over Mirvak's face, X-54 plucked the communicator from the destroyed X-55 and spoke into it. "Captain, X-55 suffered critical systems failure. This is X-54, taking command, Product: Nasty, is muzzled and ready for sell." There was a pause, then the captain replied,"All the money I put into you damn things and you still manage to blow your circuits for no reason! Well, get him in line with the other products and get him ready to be sold. I want him bumped up on the sales queue and I want him marked as a 'special deal.' Now!" The droid obediently responded,"Affirmative, captain."
Mirvak was moved into the lot with the rest of the hard labor servants, two droids holding staffs with tight ropes around his neck on either side of him. He panted hard into his muzzle, sitting on his knees as his eyes fluttered and his head lolled from side to side.
Outside, the captain propped his head up by his hands on his desk and rubbed his temples. He had no idea that he was about to get rid of Mirvak faster than any of the Worgian's previous masters ever had.