Hello again. Dooku here.
I know what you’re thinking. This isen’t Monday. Why in the world would this handsome chap be writing in his weekly post twice in one week?
Normally I wouldn’t. The prison guards keep us quite busy with activities like baton dodgeball and surprise strip searches, but there does seem to be a bit of an emergency that has cropped up.
As you know, my padawan Qui-Gon and I got ourselves in a bit of trouble with the law, thus the unfortunate room accommodations. Qui-Gon himself seems to be in even more dire straights, having his ghost like particles stuffed in a security box with the only mode of conversation being his incessant tapping. Normally I would free the ol chap, but the lock-down box is…well…locked. Not even the use of the force will allow me to open it up. Pity.
It seems our only mode of rescue lies in retrieving the spice permit that the jawa keeps on his person. Unfortunately, I am stuck here in prison and can’t go to meet Master J.J.
I’ve tried contacting my master, Sidious, but it seems he’s been locked in budget meetings all week. You would think he was trying to avoid me or something.
I then came to mind a brilliant notion. Someone, actually. Someone who knows this jawa and would be very amiable to meeting with him secretly and retrieving said permit. Someone with devotion and skills of stealth. Someone who would work quite cheaply.
The F.O.O.F. men!!!
I made a quick call and they were all too eager to take up the cause. I made sure they understood the need to be undercover and use subtlety. They assured me that they would not attract attention.
Frack: Don’t worry, Count. We’ll sneak in that house, find J.J. and get the papers like the wind.
Frick: I’m a pirate. Arrrg!
(To be continued in F.O.O.F. this weekend)