Trayce sat resolutely in his cell, simply watching as the Mandolorian guard made his patrol, his armored boots making metallic echoes as they struck the floor in front of the cells. There was also another guard sitting just beside Trayce's cell door as well, though he was asleep, probably from all of the ale he had been drinking last night, when Trayce had been snatched from the back of their transport ship, which he had not even known was theirs. Being captured wasn't a problem though, the problem was that Trayce didn't know just how long they planned to keep him locked up... If they decided to keep him alive that is.
He stood up slowly, stretching his neck, arms, hips, and legs, making sure that he was fully alert, and started to pace around the cell, mirroring the timing of the guard's loud and obnoxious metal footsteps. Once his rhythm had been established, he slowly walked around the entire floor of his small chamber, looking at everything around him; the small sink made of durasteel, the single bed, with the frame bolted to the floor, and the metal bars that separated him from freedom. Simple metal, it would have been easy to escape if he had a lightsaber, but then again, he still needed to find a way to build one, but that would come later. First, he needed to escape, and especially get back his black cloak, the only possession they had taken from him, the only possession he had, leaving his torso bare and exposing him to the cold temperatures.
He continued to pace, but as soon as he got close to the bars, he quickly glanced out at what was beyond the bars: an empty cell directly across from him, with the one guard still sleeping less than a meter away, a blaster pistol strapped to his thigh, and the other guard just now getting to the end of his walk to the right of the door. Trayce acted quickly, keeping the rhythm of the steps going, he moved to the edge of the door and reached through, and found that he was, with a bit of strain, able to reach the Mandalorian's helmet, which he grasped firmly, and gave a hard wrench, hearing a snap of bone and cartilage as another footstep sounded, then released him back into the position he had been in, smiling darkly.
"Oh guard, I think your friend isn't going to wake up." Trayce's smile vanished, but he still held it inside as the patroler stopped stiffly and slowly approached his friend. He ordered the Sith to back up, which he did, and he knelt down to look at his "sleeping" friend, and as he did, Trayce saw the security card for his cell door hanging on his hip. The mando lifted his companion's helmet to reveal his dead demeanor, but before he could so much as shout, Trayce had already ripped the thin sheet off of his bed, twisted it, and whipped it at the man's neck, twisting his wrist to wrap it under the helmet, and then yanked, knocking the mercenary to the floor, and unfortunately for him, within grabbing distance. Trayce's hands shot out like vipers, his grip unyielding, and he kept a calm, emotionless display as he choked the life out of his guard, then dragged him close enough to snatch the security card, and scan it into the lock, allowing the barred door to swing open. "Fool, you can never hold a Sith."
And with that, Trayce walked out of the cell and into the empty hall, then began to head right, hoping he knew where to go, and soon.
