Sometimes they are five. Sometimes they are three.
We do not merely destroy our enemies;
we change them.
WELCOME TO THE END OF TIME.
The Regency has its spies and its cloaks and daggers. You may have even brushed shoulders with one and not have known it. There is a place for such tactics. You are not in that place any longer.

On missions like these, the Regency prefers to keep its base close, in a intradimensional time pocket. You're apart from Gallipoli, no longer technically on Earth or in the 1910s. There are multiple segments to this complex base of Regency operations, but you can only really see two places...
THE BRIG
This is your holding cell, a constantly shifting room of indesctructable grey squares. It folds and bends to hold you and your seven companions as you await... something.
There are no guards in this place. There are no bars to look through, or sounds to listen for. You are simply in the box, left to your own devices.
Occasionally, holes will open in the ceiling, and packaged, processed rations will fall from them before immediately closing. This is the only way to measure time. There are always exactly eight bags, each with the name of one captive written on the side in their native language.
Holes will occasionally open in the walls, and they always bring with them a searingly bright light. Sleeping and sitting is difficult on the ever-shifting floors, and when you try, it always seems like a pinhole of light opens right on your eyes. Even leaning on the walls has mixed results.
DON'T GO TOWARDS THE LIGHT
The windows of light that open always stay very small, making it difficult to look through, and always pour radiantly bright, hot light. If you're feeling particularly self-punishing, you might be able to peek at an odd angle and see something of the world outside without being completely flashblinded. The world outside the Brig looks rather like the interior of a Dyson sphere. In the center, a great, bright, hot energy radiates out like a sun, and it reflects off the exterior globe the pocket dimension functions within, illuminating everything from every angle. The Brig floats around it in a slow orbit, as do many other similar looking box-rooms made of similar material, connected by constantly moving tubes and chutes. Some boxes have more chutes going toward them than others. No chutes connect to the Brig, unless someone is about to disappear into the floor...
Getting this view will be difficult, but not impossible; it will just take characters willing to blind themselves with an overabundance of light multiple times until they get the correct angle, allowing them to see outside for roughly a half second before the room shifts to redirect the light back into their eyes.
not so solitary confinement
Occasionally, the cube will split into smaller segments, throwing characters together with others at random in close confinement. This is unpredictable and fast, splitting you off from the whole for what feels like hours at a time, often with only one companion as the cube shifts and squirms around you.
technical malfunction
The power nullification is still in full effect. No magic or special abilities rule this place. Your only master are the walls, undulating with no discernible pattern, always moving.
The Regency has also attempted to break the BCE's translation capabilities, but due to the fact that COST-jailbroken BCEs work on a different system than Regency ones, this is an intermittent problem that occurs sporadically. (ie, have the translation capabilities blink in and out at your discretion.)
THE OTHER PLACE
And then, suddenly, the floor drops out from underneath you. The shifting walls make a hole perfectly your shape and size, and sucks you through. The hole closes neatly, immediately, and you slide along in a world of boxes pressing close to your skin as you are moved from one holding area to another.
When you emerge, you do so in total darkness. Power nullification is still in effect, but even if you can naturally see in the dark, it doesn't matter. All you can see is an endless blackness, and walking doesn't help. You can keep walking for however long; there is nothing to walk to. The floor is perfectly level, but you'll never reach a wall.
Finally, there's light in the distance. A spotlight from nowhere shines down on a person with the head of a jackal. Looking closer, you'll find it's some kind of highly technical mask. They are wearing armor that obscures their exact shape-- no skin shows, no hint of identity or personality, just the cold eyes of the mask. They turn to you, and speak in a voice clear and soothing, almost gentle.
"I am Kebechet. I have been looking forward to speaking with you."
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"Good," he said, keeping his tone neutral. "We weren't certain how else to send a message. Although this wasn't exactly the summons I would have expected."
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"I don't trust COST. Nor do I trust you. But," he took a step forward, looking back to Kebechet's mask. "The nature of my interest is that you and I have mutual interests. A common goal, I think."
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"Unification," he said, tracking the dust until it vanished. "The galaxy at peace."
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"I'm no stranger to being seen as the outsider." His whole life really: among his family, among his Jedi peers, and even among the First Order. He and his knights were nothing like Hux and his stormtroopers, and they were outnumbered by the former. Feared and respected, but only part of the whole because of Snoke.
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The further they walk, the more obvious it is what they're going through: Snoke's throne room, the bodies on the ground recently bloodied, twitching, dead.
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His pace slowed only for a few steps once he noted the change in their surroundings, eyes darting between the dead guards. Considering the nature of the first prison he'd been thrown in, this should have been expected. Minding he kept his posture tall, he kept pace with Kebechet, as if there was nothing interesting to see here.
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"You understand, of course, that you will have to prove yourself to us all. I hope you are prepared for the challenge. You may need to act as a spy for some time, with little access to our information or resources. Do you believe yourself capable of this?"
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Would it be now, or a test in the future? He'd chafe under the necessity either way, always have to prove himself after he thought he'd passed that point.
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He stepped past Kebechet, standing in front of the throne. He stared at it a moment, then looked to the jackal mask. "What would you have me do?"
Were he in a better position, he'd make demands of his own. Without his powers to guide or assist him in any way, he deferred to Kebechet, as much as he hated the feeling.
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"I had power," he ground out, barely keeping his voice under a shout. Kylo jabbed one finger towards the throne. "That was mine. That is mine."
Sitting on a throne did not grant one power, but that was precisely what he strode forward to do. He thought again of destroying it, and how satisfying that would be. The Supemacy was a practically crippled ship anyways, so eliminating Snoke's influence would be... cleansing.