Eiron picked up the mercenary in a Force Grip and held him several inches above the ground, his lightsaber silent in his free right hand. The left was almost completely clenched, the difference between the merc having little breath to none at all.
"I am interested in the Revenants," Eiron said, taking three steps and turning around to retrace them, looking at the ground. "Might you have the information I require?"
"I work for the highest bidder," the mercenary replied, stuttering in fear, chest heaving from the difficulty he was having breathing. "Please, my Lord, I can't tell you much...please, let me go..."
"Now, where would be the prudence in that?" Eiron asked, glancing up, light in his eyes. "You have worked for the Revenants before, yes?"
"Y-y-yes."
"How do you get into contact with them?"
"I set up a meeting with my contact."
"Hmm." Eiron stroked his chin, pondering this. "Who is this contact?"
"His name's Sloan, he's a Gossam. Head to the Woolyman Club downtown and ask around for him. He'll be hitting the card tables."
"Thank you." Eiron smiled. "You've been very helpful."
He clenched his fist and the mercenary began to choke. After he passed out, Eiron knelt next to the body and pressed his hand against the merc's cheek. "You will not remember a thing," he whispered, as though murmuring an incantation. The Dark Side flowed through him as he spoke. "You can smell your own sweat, taste the fear, hear the lightsaber hum in your ear. You were asked questions, but you do not know what they are. And you do not remember my face."
Eiron straightened. The mercenary, breathing again, would awake in several minutes, and he would know only what Eiron had instructed, nothing more.
Eiron made his way to this Woolyman Club.
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