Onderon

[Darth Furion]

"Are you sure?" The doctor stared at his assistant with fear in his eyes and dread on his lips. This couldn't be correct. Surely they knew of his condition. The good doctor couldn't help but stare, mouth agape as he waited for the young boy to speak up. He was scared as well; they had never planned for something like this to happen so soon. Not when there was so much work to be done.

 

"I double checked sir. The orders came straight from the top." He was grasping the datapad perhaps a little too tight; his finger tips and knuckles had started to grow white. For a while they both remained standing. The small, knickknack filled office had grown confining, the air thick and stale. The silence spoke more to them than any words could have, the gravity the small electronic text held was unfathomable.

 

"Corporate ordered this?"

 

"No sir, higher."

 

"Higher?"

 

"The Empire, sir. Says we can't hold him anymore."

 

For over six months the patient had spent every Monday morning alone in a room with the good doctor. Drugged up, restrained, with two guards at the door, the patient should have been as docile as a lamb, and yet the doctor still said a prayer every time he stepped through that door. What this man was, what he had become was something the doctor had hoped to never see manifest in his lifetime. Murder, corpse desecration, unconfirmed numbers driven insane, the patient's rap sheet was enough to give any good soul nightmares. Orders were to shoot him on sight, taken dead or alive. It had taken twelve officers, a special team of ten stormtroopers lent by the local garrison, two undercover officers, and one brave citizen to bring him down, and none got out intact. Those who didn't die were cursed to a life of the mad house, driven insane by whatever untraceable narcotics he had given them. At least that was the official cause of insanity put on the reports. The doctors found absolutely no signs of poisoning, not even on the autopsy of the officer that had chewed off his own tongue alone in his room tied to his bed, drowning on his own blood in less than thirty seconds. The courts deemed the patient mentally insane, unable to take to trial. And so he was taken to the asylum, where every Monday he would sit for two hours, doing nothing but staring into the eyes of the good doctor.

 

”œDid they say why they wanted him released?”

Edited January 17, 2010 by Guest

[Darth Furion]

The smell of ammonia stung his nostrils more than the coarse whiskey this backwater planet had to offer. He hadn't noticed them in the slightest as they strolled in, nor the overwhelming silence that was cast over the bar as the new patrons were recognized. Disconnected from the bar, from himself, even the drink in his hands, he felt nothing. No remorse for his actions at the asylum, not even shock or joy for what he had done. Nothing had seemed right since his birth, or rather his rebirth. It seemed that with his mind as did his ability to feel become stricken from him. Now, in the empty peacefulness of a washed out bar, he sat alone in perplexity. Only when the hairs on the back of his neck began to stand, and the man clad in all white took the seat next to him did Julio snap back to the world around him.

 

"-what he's having."

 

He tilted his own glass, noting the shallow pool of amber liquor still remaining. Oh that's right, I was drinking. He looked side to side, keeping his head still. The five ghouls spread throughout the bar weren't here previously, they must have come in with the man in white. The bulges in their clothes weren't promising, but there couldn't be a bounty out already. You could still smell the asylum burning in the air. There must have been something else this man wanted. Obviously the other patrons at the bar knew him, and feared him from the look at them. Like lambs, all of them.

 

"And I'll have another. Both on me."

 

Something had to be done, and Julio wanted to hold the initiative in this encounter. He had managed to procure a small knife from the asylum, but it was in his boot, not easily accessible enough to really matter in such close quarters. No, he would have to talk this one out, if anything was to come up.

[Darth Furion]

Accelerating heartbeat and the sudden loss of breath told Julio that he was presently experiencing a whole new emotion. Basic fear, mixed with a strong curiosity and a hint of desperate aggression marked this as one of his least favorite feelings thus far, but even that thought was pushed aside as the echoing question of how ran through his mind. It...just wasn't possible. He stilled his mind away from his body, detaching himself yet again to bring control back. His face remained expressionless despite the rushing of questions and building fear manifesting internally. What was inside was supposed to be his alone, no one else's. Denial was a fool's game. As nonchalantly as the man in white had spilled his sins in to the ears of those in the bar, he was completely sure of what he spoke.

 

"I suppose it's a matter of how you want to win, really." he said as he rose his new glass to his lips, no longer sipping but practically throwing the burning liquid down his throat. "You either win, and let the challenger live to challenge another day, or win completely, once and for all, and never have to worry about that challenger again."

 

He rested the shot glass back on the counter before turning to the man in white. May as well look into the eyes of the man who knows all your secrets, you have nothing left to hide.

 

"Another. Burnout this time."

 

He reached into his front coat pocket, precisely measuring his movements so as not to seem threatening. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, one lifted from the gate guard at the asylum, his final hurdle in his path to freedom.

 

"Care for a square?" He said to the man in white. "Name's Julio." The name sounded unfamiliar and unused, like it wasn't his, but it was the same with any other name he heard. This was what the doctor had called him, and thus that was who he was. He could have at any time discarded the name and picked another, but it didn't really matter. Perhaps the name would help him find someone that would recognize him, that could shed some light on the overcast his mind had been swallowed by.

[Darth Furion]

He relived the last few moments of the doctor's life along with Faust, surprisingly not at all uneasy by his presence in his mind this time. The memory was too precious to be soured by another, after all, it was one of the very few he had. His lungs burned as the soft grey smoke lived its last practical moments still inside him, held there so long as the memory held out. Only when the vision ended and Faust spoke did he exhale, allowing his concentration to return to automatic functions. As Faust spoke, Julio listened, patient but intent to catch every word that left his lips. Ignoring his guest's prompting to try the detailed exercise of of simply feeling the the hate dripping from the locals. It was an interesting idea to be sure, but Julio felt he would let his guard down of he closed his eyes for even a second around this snake. What intrigued Julio most was how Faust mentioned something of returning his prior memory.

 

"Do you want to know the truth, Vladimir? I don't know why I killed those people. I had nothing against them, nor an unnatural thirst for blood or suffering. I had a...compulsion if you will, to kill those men. They needed to die." Julio unsteadily cast a quick glance around the bar, noting how many were passively listening to the conversation, saying nothing for fear of this man named Faust. "They all deserve to die. I...I don't think I hate them, or at least I'm not sure that I'm aware that I'm hating them. In fact, I'm not really sure how I feel about it."

 

He took another deep drag of his cigarette, now glad he had refused Faust's offer for a cigar. Cigars were for celebrating, or just looking classy as hell, but you never inhaled them. But his cigarette, used to its design, delivered him just the right amount of stimulus to keep his hands from shaking. Since he could remember, he had never once divulged this much about himself to anyone. He guessed it didn't really matter with Faust, since he had already seen him for the monster he was.

 

"They're all wanting. The lot of them. So much potential and what do they do with it? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. They throw it all away in ignorance and fear..." He trailed off, no longer sure the words he spoke were his any longer. They were not words that had come from Faust, this he was sure of. They came from somewhere inside him, and the scariest part was, they made sense.

[Darth Furion]

He thought for a moment, reflecting on what Faust said. The ideas he spoke of, that all deserved to die and it was only the select few that realized this that had the authority to choose how and when it would happen, seemed like a personal observation Faust had acquired during his travels rather than a righteous path laid down by eons of philosophy. Julio didn't feel it was a view he could see himself taking at the moment. He would have to learn more before he donned such a misanthropic view of mankind, but until then he would remain indifferent.

 

Julio cast a glance around the bar. Even still the patrons wore their fear poorly, not at all waning in the time the cause of their fear had been there. Why were they still so frightened? For a half hour the pair had sat and talked, and not once since then had the others at the bar done anything more than remain frozen in fear.

 

"You must certainly be the wolf of our time to keep brutes such as these locked in fear of their lives."

[Darth Furion]

"Not much, I'm afraid." He admitted, letting Faust's talks of the Empire and governorship slip from his mind. "All I really remember was waking up on Naboo. A man claiming to be my brother by the name of Syn found me, but we were attacked by some bounty hunter. The hunter was defeated, somewhat, but he left me at that point."

 

He took a sip of his burnout, but no more than a sip. The faux-water burned the whole way down.

 

"Since then I've been moving from planet to planet, evading the authorities until winding up at that damned asylum for half a year."

 

His gaze went distant as he remembered what little life he had led flash before his eyes, each encounter ending in a fine mist of bloodshed.

 

"Apparently they didn't appreciate my work." Even as he said it, he doubted his casual tone fit what he truly felt. In reality he wasn't sure of what he felt, even after his guest's compelling argument into the value of life.

 

"All I remember is what little I've gleaned from conversations I've overheard. The Rebels are attempting to make a legitimate government, the Jedi sit on their hands as usual, and the Empire is working out the new structure of the rising Emperor."

[Darth Furion]

Faust's display was almost awe inspiring, if Julio had anything else to base it off of. They would have likely run out at a stern look in their direction, but for some reason he felt the need to show force. What Faust spoke of, the Jedi and Sith, Empire and Rebels, were like stars in a far off system to Julio. He neither knew them, nor had any particular interest in them. He wanted to believe that Faust understood him, but in truth even Julio didn't understand himself, so he had no way of telling how close the things Faust believed were to the truth.

 

"To tell you the truth, Vladimir, I don't really give a damn about the Jedi or Rebels, or whatever it is you're doing. But, as it is now, I don't really have anything else to do, and I find our conversations somewhat..." He paused to look into Faust's cold blue eyes, searching for something other than the right word. "...enthralling."

 

He kept his face from showing signs of eagerness or anxiety, but truth be told he was excited. To be a part of something, anything really, was a step towards forging identity. He could begin to identify himself with a particular group, and through that with the group's views and morals. From burning down his six month long prison, to finding himself a job, today was turning out to be a good day.

[Darth Furion]

Julio climbed down from the fighter, stretching his legs from the long flight. For a moment on Mon Calamari, he had suspected Faust would be upset with him for pointing out possible flaws in his tactics, but was gladly surprised that the warrior had taken the advice in stride. Julio had noticed that some men's pride did not allow them to accept criticism. Faust, on the other hand, was wise enough to take such criticism into consideration, rather than take it as an insult. Julio had to admit, he liked the man.

 

"Do you think the Empire will overlook the use of resources without permission for removing the threat on Mon Calamari?" He said as he waited for Faust to leave the fighter.

[Darth Furion]

All is expendable? No attachments whatsoever?

 

As simple as Faust made it sound, the actual act of non attachment was a challenge not to be taken lightly. Granted, at the moment Julio had no friends or loved ones to long for, but over time he expected to get close to at least someone, perhaps even the wolf himself. Even looking at his works at a purely military point of view, soldiers always made bonds with their brothers in arms, even when specifically trying not to. Even during the famed Order sixty-six, some Jedi escaped the slaughter solely because of the relationships they had build with the clone troops, the very men that were born and raised to follow every order without question. Relationships, attachment of any kind, was a powerful thing, and one would have to be constantly mindful of themselves to prevent such a power from gaining control.

 

"The Force? I can't say I reached out to it any, to be honest. I was focused on the mission the entire time. Didn't stop to....listen." He said, pondering a deeper question. Had he touched the force during the raid? He didn't seem to call out to any omniscient being for assistance, or if he did he wasn't acutely aware of it. "Really, sir, I don't really know much of the force. From what I can tell it's some mysterious entity that is somehow everywhere at once. Those how know how to call upon it can manipulate it to their own devices, but beyond that...."

 

If it comes to saving my skin, are you expendable like everything else, Faust?

[Darth Furion]

He listened intently as he walked, nearly colliding into the man when he stepped before him. If the force were, as Faust stated, a schizophrenic consciousness spread throughout the galaxy, then the dichotomy would indeed be very true. Julio followed the line of thinking a little farther on and began to think; if the force followed the laws of the universe, then there would be a whole spectrum of possibilities. Light and dark, good and evil, thus were the extremes built into life, and from that every shade of grey in between. So it could be sufficient to say that the light and dark sides of the force were not the only options, but merely a cardinal direction for one to align their path with.

 

But what was it that Faust said had defined Julio previously? The will to control? What did that mean, exactly? The drive to control one's life in the utmost? Guiding your own path towards the inevitable inferno that lay awaiting? As he walked, pondering the essence of the dark side, a mantra shot out of his mind like a star going nova, gone nearly as fast as it came, but before it left he managed to get a hold of one line.

• The force shall set me free.

That was it! That was the reason for such control; Freedom! By controlling something, it does not control you, but how to gain that control? Before he could continue any further, his mind sped up to catch up to Faust's continuing speech, still hungry for whatever knowledge he was willing to give.

 

He spoke of a chance for power, but at the same time talked of the price of said power. Did Julio really need such power over people, and if he did, how far was he willing to go for it? To be honest, he couldn't really say. No one would know what they would be willing to do until confronted with the choice. No amount of preparation could really tell you who you were until you found yourself with a difficult decision, or a difficult situation and faced it on the spot. Would he be willing to sacrifice Faust if it meant saving himself, or even for a chance at even greater power? Only through training and study could Julio begin to understand these hypotheticals.

 

"Then give me discipline." He finally said, his predatory golden eyes matching Faust's own unwavering blue.

 

Yes Faust, I will follow you to your prophetical inferno if you can help me gain back what I've lost. But i will not be thrown away like the sheep you feel such venomous contempt for. I will be a wolf, much like yourself.

[Darth Furion]

He merely stared at the crumbled sphere as Faust left the room, his face showing no disbelief or concern at his newly appointed task. To many reconstructing the stone structure would seem impossible, but to Julio, it wasn't that daunting of a task. True, it would take quite some time to put it back together, but six months of solitary confinement in a maximum security insane asylum worked wonders for expanding one's patience. Here, locked away in this room it was no different, instead now he had a little project to bide his time. The fact that his incarceration lasted only as long as the project was one of the lesser details that he pushed to the back of his mind, deciding it would not really help him in this matter. The broken sphere was nothing more than a three dimensional puzzle that didn't follow the rules of piece size and shape that normal puzzles did, but that certainly didn't mean it would be easy. He kneeled down and began to arrange the pieces in a manner close to the way they had fallen. Even at shoulder height, the pieces wouldn't have scattered too far from their original design. Once they were arranged in a series of rings, he took time to inspect each piece, rearranging the circles every time he noted similarities in pieces. The toughest part, he found, was that the outside of the sphere was nothing but a plain grey slate. If it had some design, even a simple speckled pattern, it would be somewhat easier to match the pieces together.

 

When he felt he did all he could to prearrange the pieces, he stood and moved to get the paste from one of the alcoves, careful not to let the long, swaying cloth of his pants to brush over his layout and mess up his thus far hour long work. He sat back in the exact same place he was when he was arranging the pieces, making sure his perspective stayed the same throughout the project. Picking up two of the larger pieces, he slid the pair together, making sure they matched. When he was satisfied, he set one down and picked up the paste brush, putting on just enough adhesive to keep the pair united, then picked up the second and pushed them together, holding them in place long enough for the paste to dry. When the paste finally did dry, Julio used his fingernail to pick away at the excess glue around the edges, ensuring the seams were smooth and flawless so the next pieces would go on without complication. It would be a long process, but anything worth doing was worth doing right the first time. Any mistake would cost him time. Turning the new stone in his hand, he noticed that the pair was a mismatch. At the bottom of the first piece there was a ridge that didn't match any of the other pieces. Realizing his mistake, Julio quickly tried to slide the two pieces apart, before the paste dried any further. It didn't budge, so he put a little more pressure on the joint. Despite his caution, the single stone split, only not at the seam. Now he had two stones that were paired wrongly.

 

He wasn't kidding when he said the paste was strong.

 

Setting the pieces down, Julio began to hear music from the other side of the door. It was too far away to hear it fully, but from what he could tell it was some form of opera. Julio felt just a little bit disheartened. Not because of the music, he was sure it was a beautiful work of art, but because he couldn't fully hear it, it acted as nothing more than background static, white noise that would take his concentration away from the task at hand. It had become a completely different game now. In the asylum, Julio could have spent hours, days even, on mindless tasks to keep his mind busy. Counting the steps of the guards as they walked past his door, figuring out their exact stride, even memorizing the tunes they hummed and whistled to keep themselves occupied on the long nights. But in all that time, Julio had done those things in complete silence, no other distractions to keep him from his work. He went back to his task at hand, now sorting through the pieces again, this time from every angle possible to make absolutely sure they were right. After two more hours, Julio let himself fall back to the floor to stare blankly at the ceiling. Between the white noise and the nearly infinite combinations the puzzle pieces presented, his mind was exhausted. His thoughts slipped from the project to figuring out why he couldn't do it. At first he blamed Faust and his damned music, and then blamed him for giving him such a task in the first place. He understood the purpose of the exercise, to develop patience and determination, to build will power and drive, but surely there were other ways than locking him in a room for hours on end to complete such dull task. Then he began blaming himself. Faust was right in giving him this exercise. He wasn't focused enough, he wasn't disciplined enough to complete the task. He knew what he had to do, but he just couldn't do it. He sat back up, once again staring mindlessly into the arrangement of stones. It was just like his memories, all scattered and broken, and he sat alone, unable to put himself back together. A piece here, a piece there, he realized the significance of every one of them, parts of a whole.

 

Frustration built as he stared past the rocks, looking for the answer somewhere beyond them. Before he knew what he was doing, his hand swung wildly along the floor, the small arrangement of rings cast into hopeless chaos as they clacked against the equally stone floor. By the force, he wanted to shout as he jumped up, unable to restrain himself from pacing around the room. God damned rocks, god damned trial, god damned distractions! It was all stupid, waste of time! Silently cursing to himself he continued to pace, frustration running its course into full blown anger. And then, much like any other time his brain managed to dredge a memory from the depths so his mind, he began to replay one of his conversations with Faust. It was through anger and hatred that a Sith controlled the dark side. And wasn't that what he was, or rather used to be, a Sith? If he could do it before, why couldn't he do it now? He turned his head to the floor, quickly scanning the spread out arrangement of the stones. Yes”¦yes, there was something there. Some sort of connection to the pieces. He wasn't sure what it was exactly, but he could see it plain as day now. He stared harder, but in his focus the distinguishing aura around the rocks began to fade. Once again anger flushed through him; inwardly loathing himself just a little more for letting the image slip. But with the new wave of anger the aura renewed, and he once again could see the outlines of the original sphere. Mindful to keep his anger as his primary mode of focus, he sat back down, collecting and arranging the pieces of rock into a completely new design. Within an hour the stone was back to its original form, save for the series of cracks along the surface. Setting the stone sphere in front of him, Julio sat quietly in meditation, trying to focus even further at controlling this new sensation; at least he would remain there until Faust came to inspect his handy work. Long ago he was Sith, and in knowing that he had already overcome the struggle once before, all other difficulties would melt away before him. Belief was one thing, knowing was a completely different creature.

[Darth Furion]

The Sith decided to remain in meditation as his master spoke, his words distant but held a strong precedence. They brought focus and direction to Julio's astral trek through the room and all its contents. Now he was acutely aware of the stone he just put back together. Every seam across the smooth surface, every weakness and strength in the structure he could see, and holding the stone was the very brazen aura of Faust, saturating the room so much as it made breathing somewhat labored to the apprentice. Even through the distance and distraction, Julio clung to everything Faust expressed, even the things unspoken or implied. His movement, the inflection upon the words he chose, there was a lesson in everything the man did. The real challenge was not in comprehending the things his master said, but seeing and understanding the things he chose not to say, and the way he expressed it.

 

"Open your eyes, apprentice, and know!"

 

Even before his master moved, before the words left his lips, Julio could feel the teacher's inflection, the tense inclination that preceded conscious thought. He moved before he knew fully why it was he needed to move, rolling to his left in a tight roll before coming up to his feet, his finger tips holding his balance like small stone pillars. Despite the natural shock of the stone sphere crashing against the floor some three feet behind where he was previously setting, Julio kept his eyes locked onto Faust, ready to move again should the need arise. As calm as he appeared outwardly, Julio felt the pangs of anger steadily growing inside him. It wasn't because Faust had just tried to bludgeon him while he sat in meditation; that was just a test. But because the stone he worked so hard to reconstruct, the one trophy to remind him of his triumph over the force, had been discarded and broken as if it were nothing. It was a trivial thing, really. The stone didn't matter, it was only a symbol, and symbols only had as much value or weight as you gave them, but it was still his symbol of triumph.

[Darth Furion]

A crystal...

 

The mention of a crystal did something strange to Julio. It was as if he were in a dream, only he could still see and hear Faust. He was like an invisible visitor to the dream, everything around him unfolding as if he weren't there. He saw himself sitting in mediation, deep in concentration, but there was something different about him, something that ran just beneath the surface. He sat before a small furnace, the heat of the flame so intense sweat poured off of him. Julio moved behind himself to look into the furnace, curious to see what it was that had captivated his other self's attention so thoroughly. Crouching low to look over his own shoulder, he could begin to see something hidden within the flame. It was some form of stone, twisting and turning with the relentless tide of heat, but all was not as it seemed. The rotating stone inside the furnace looked like something material, but Julio could see it for what it really was. Pain, anguish, hatred, every hue of emotion the mind could comprehend toiled in the inferno. It was evident that his alternate self was the cause of such a torrent, but the more he stared, the more he felt that it was he that was the origin of such passion.

 

Wake up, Julio...

 

Julio fell backward, startled beyond words. The vision, or memory, or whatever it was had faded and he was once again back with Faust. Who's voice was that? Had Faust called him out of the trance, or was it his other self that had cast him away? Regardless, now was not the time to have a potential break down in front of his master. He stood up, making sure his features didn't betray his curiosity or shock.

 

"Yes, master."

[Darth Furion]

Julio took the time to look over the machinery and workshop as Faust spoke, as always careful to catch every word that left his lips, and those that didn't. He had recognized the tools, especially the furnace, from the waking dream earlier, but none of it was the same. He didn't really expect it to be the same, he still wasn't sure if it was a vision or memory. Faust spoke of adapting, which Julio made a point to pay special attention to. The concept was something to look further into. Constantly changing with the situation, being ready to flow into any given change was the foundation upon which the idea of evolution was founded. He took the idea to heart, making a mental note to never stay the same.

 

"A Sith believes in seizing power and control from reality. Here, you have enough toys to make anyone envious. Use whatever technology and skill with the Force you have to make a blade, and we can put it in any one of these sabers."

 

Julio looked over the parts, then to the furnace. "I've already made my ultimate blade, I just don't know where I put the damned thing." He flashed Faust a smile, acting as if he were coming to terms with his memory loss by playing it off as an old joke. "But I suppose I can make a new one until I can find it."

[Darth Furion]

I'll never believe that. My past isn't some previous life to be tapped into when conjuring obscure senses of deja vu , or an old layer of skin so that I can grow larger. Its a part of me, a part as important as any other point in the present or future. Without the lessons of the past, I'm nothing but an infant in a world of past experiences.

 

"Alright."

 

He said as he began to pace the room, further inspecting all the tools and resources at hand. He knew of a few of the raw materials intended for the actual crystal, but some of them didn't look familiar. The prefabricated sections were made of a few different metals, everything he'd need really, but something seemed amiss. He closed his eyes, the scene of the workshop burned into his vision. Julio began to revisit his memory, willing his mind to unlock his waking dream. Soon the image of the workshop he was in, and the one in his dream amalgamated into one. His mind searched the benches, scrying his surroundings to recall any of the previous materials he may have used.

 

"I'll need..." Something black, dense, some sort of stone. "...Hijarna Stone, a square foot of it, found on either the planet of Hijarna or...the fallen Hand of Thrawn on Nirauan. And..." Also black, but somewhat like an opaque glass. "...Obsidian glass on Mustafar, square foot. You could send some of your...brave soldier types to grab them for my while I work on the crystal." Julio opened his eyes, erasing the small stone work room of his dream. "If it pleases you, of course."