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Kamino


Tarrian Skywalker

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Aerec's eyes tightened, trying to peek at the truth of Faust's words. But the Hunter opened himself up in the Force, letting Aerec's prods through.

 

He wasn't lying. Perhaps there was some honor in Faust. Aerec didn't know enough about him to say that there wasn't: he'd simply assumed the Hunter was a bad man because of Darla and the Jedi's opinion of him. Plus the darkness that resonated off of him in the Force. Aerec had assumed Faust was honorless too quickly.

 

"All right, I believe you," the captive padawan said. "But what will you do with me? You say I have friends here. I only have Darla." He smirked. "Sorry, pal, don't know you well enough to count you as a friend."

 

But is he an enemy? Aerec asked himself. The lines on that were blurred, perhaps blurring further.

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His shuttle cut through the omnipresent cloud cover like a knife, dodging and weaving through potent bolts of sporadic lightning like only a force adept could. At first he wanted to stay in flight, daring to play with fate as long as destiny permitted, but the distant presence of his master reminded him of his duty. With a soft sigh Julio leaned in on the yolk and pushed the shuttle to a dangerously steep descent toward the lone observation platform amidst the expansive sea of unbridled crests. A few hundred meters out from the platform, Julio began to feel the presence of two others, one supposedly this Darla his master spoke of, and another he did not know. While trying to remain mindful of all three presences, Julio brought the shuttle in for a landing. It was somewhat difficult to keep track of the distinctions between the three of them and land a shuttle at the same time, but Julio found that he could manage it with concentration, slipping into a half meditative state right there in the shuttle's seat with little trouble. After his craft landed, he remained in his seat to further widen his perception until it had developed into a passive awareness, leaving him with a soft, glazed shine in his eyes. The dichotomy of his consciousness could be seen in his features, but he didn't let one overcome the other. He had managed to pay attention to things both physical and of the force, and over time he was sure he would be able to do so without so much work.

 

Walking down the ramp, he let his secondary senses guide him through the platform. Through a few sets of doors and a couple hall ways and he found himself outside the hanger his master and his guests had landed at. But instead of walking in and introducing himself, Julio chose to remain distant, instead reaching out through the doors and across the hanger to graze the mind of his master.

 

I'm here, as you requested. Do you wish me to meet your guests, or should I retire to my room for now?

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Faust laughs. "You are with friends, objectively speaking, though it's up to you on whether or not you wish to see it, per your point of view," he adds with a twist, throwing the Jedi's sense of relativism on its head. "You are here, because you wished to learn from me, and because you desire justice and Galactic peace and the means to fulfill that desire. To that end, I can be your ally, and teach you what you want, and what you need, to learn to achieve that end."

 

"Consider this. There are two men alone on an island, one is stronger than the other. He can force the other to work for him, to serve him, and even take his life. Is this a miscarriage of justice? Is it a crime if no men are left? If no one knows, did it really happen?" Faust's gauntletted hands count the points, finally tightening into a fist. "Without the necessary power to defend one's self, to stand firm alone, there can be no justice. The Dark, as it is called, offers that. It may be viewed as quicker and faster, but because it asks more of us in return. It is stronger because it requires will give it our all, our passions." There's a faint smile as he concludes, "It asks more of us, but serves the greater good. As servants to that end, how can you not count yourself among friends?"

 

Silently, Faust sends the message back through the Force, bidding Julio to enter as his leisure. With that is the brief image he lifted from Darla's mind, of him striking her down before her rebirth, hoping it triggers more memories.

In Italy for thirty years under the Borgias they had warfare, terror, murder, bloodshed - but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance. In Switzerland they had brotherly love, 500 years of democracy and peace, and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock.

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With Faust's welcome had come a vision, a series of images and words as of yet unfamiliar to the young apprentice. Julio stood before the door and let the memory play itself out within him before pressing through the door.

 

Time stood still as the pair held each other in their grim embrace. Their eyes were locked on to one another's, sight no longer clouded by the thick carnal realm, their souls bared themselves whole. Grey danced with crimson to the mortal requiem, both temporarily caught in constant animation. As the two furies waltzed the grey began to falter, the rhythm at a loss to it's senses.

 

Shh. Don't move. You're in shock now. In a moment, you'll begin to feel light-headed, then drowsy. Don't resist, it's so gentle, like slipping into a warm bath. I regret it came to this, Darla, but every game must have it's end.

 

The lightsaber had entered her stomach, just below the right ribs, the hilt now flush with her skin. For a moment she just stood with him, will refusing reality till the very last moment. Slowly her knees betrayed her, her body slowly descending to the floor with Julio's guidance. Darla began breathing heavily, struggling to hold on to her battered shell as long as she could. The breathing slowed then stopped, her burning passion calmed by death's insidious caress. His hand glided over her face, hiding her lifeless blue eyes from the world, small bloody streaks sealing the door shut.

 

A long, staggared sigh escaped in an icy chill as Julio stood in front of the door. Had he killed this woman? If so, why had she returned, and what were these feelings accompanying the vision? It was an odd mixture of anger and disappointment, of failure and concern. Had he cared for this woman at some point? What significance did she hold to him? Questions skittered across his focus as he stood silently, weariness and discomfort nestling into their familiar homes as he was once again confronted by his mysterious self. Now was not the time to let such weakness show, however. These guests of Faust, they held some significance to him in some way, and his first impression would leave upon them a mark that they would carry all their lives. Julio began to compose himself, wrangling in all the unchecked emotions until only carelessness served as his only guise.

 

He stepped through the door with his hands clasped before him, his gilded eyes passing through the hanger with lightning speed before anyone could notice. Yes, it was the same woman in his vision, as he expected. The thought suddenly struck him that the entire thing could have been a ploy, a memory constructed completely within the bounds of Faust's mind as a means to influence Julio in a particular manner. Either way, Julio would have to just stand back and observe things for himself, saving his judgment for a time when he felt he was more properly informed.

 

He walked amongst the group without a word uttered, saving the introductions for Faust. He didn't want to interrupt whatever he was saying, and kill the momentum of his message. He stopped some ten feet away from the group, his hands still clasped in front of him, ominous as always in his crimson jacket.

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The journey to Kamino Was strange. Darla felt disjointed from her body. It was like a strange dream. She felt like an observer and not an active player in the game that was unfolding. Her Force sense that had ignited upon seeing Faust had quickly died once more. She felt nothing. She was cold and calm and still.

 

It seemed that Darla was dimly aware of what was happening around her.

 

When Aerec and Faust began to speak, a part of her came to the surface. Desperately she wanted to protect the young man. But there was nothing that she could do. In her current state she could barely protect herself. As Faust spoke, Darla felt bile begin to rise her throat.

 

What had she done? What had she agreed to? Darex had been spared but his apprentice was doomed. The knowledge that Faust would bestow upon him... He wouldn't be the same man after that knowledge.

 

He'll end up just like me... Just like when I let the darkness in...

 

Through the haze that she had been living in, emotions and realisation rose to the surface of mind.

 

As Faust spoke she found that she had to walk away. Her legs could no longer hold her and she slumped to the floor. Sitting and staring.

 

What have I done?

 

She clutched at her stomach, her breath coming raggedly. As awful and as terrified as she felt she wasn't sick. After a few deep breaths she rose to her feet. That was when he entered.

 

A crimson man who made the hairs on the back of her neck rise up. Who was he? Why did she feel like she knew him? She tried to think but a stabbing pain erupted in the side of her head. Whatever it was, whoever he was... She wasn't ready for it. She wasn't ready to remember.

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Faust takes a step back, withdrawing to the side, placing Darla and Aerec between Julio and himself. An amusing image comes to mind of their attire: one in pristine white, the other in royal crimson. An angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other, perhaps? He almost snorts. There were no angels here. There never were.

 

He vowed to keep a careful eye on both his apprentice and his Jedi guests, his hand loosely dropping to his vibrosword to prevent any violent outbursts from the parties. He wasn't sure what memories would trigger in Julio, or what Darla, taking the look of a cornered mouse, would attempt to do.

 

"My friends," he begins, "this is my Apprentice, Sith Lord Julio Furion. He's come to help you Darla, and I'm hoping you can help yourself at the same time." He deliberately sniffs. "Ahh... Fear... You are ripe with it. Afraid perhaps of who you are? What you might do? Or," he adds, with a glance over to Aerec, "what you might impart?" He laughs softly. "You can remember, but you chose to shackle yourself." Still watching Darla and Julio, studying them, his voice speak Aerec's mind for his sole benefit.

 

Remember that the Force has a Light and a Dark side, and it's as fractured and conflicted as even your Jedi friends, boy. Darla won't find peace with herself. The Darkness is embedded too deeply in her, in us all. If you joined her, she could find peace with herself as well, and ease her conscience. I say friends again, in how we are all united under one purpose, one common banner. Consider this.

In Italy for thirty years under the Borgias they had warfare, terror, murder, bloodshed - but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance. In Switzerland they had brotherly love, 500 years of democracy and peace, and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock.

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Julio could feel it in the air. A sort of tension that couldn't be forsaken with a soft word or jovial smile, questions fallen upon fear stricken ears with chained tongues, a message cast upon the swirling winds connecting the youth and the man he now called master. It added a sense of mystery to the air, a mystery Julio felt not apart of nor felt far enough apart from to properly see it for what it truly was. He was trapped, somewhere in the middle of it all. Oh, what he wouldn't give for some proper answers, who he wouldn't gladly strangle with his bare hands to unlock this door and let loose the floodgates of what dare not be answered.

 

Again, Faust mentioned him as a Sith Lord. How could this be if he was still learning the basics like the other two. Admittedly, he had probably received a more direct approach to training than they, but still, he couldn't know that much more than them. Everything still seemed so new, so ready to be challenged. Regardless of Faust's reasoning, Julio chose to remain silent for the moment, instead observing the other two. It was difficult for him to decide which one to watch more intently. Faust had obviously brought him her for something involving this Darla he spoke of, but it was clear from the way he spoke and the way he held his body in expression that Faust's intent was directed toward the other one, the boy with the smell of cleanliness about him. Reflexively, Julio clenched his fists, feeling the metaphorical blood crawl on the surface of his palms. No, this boy was new, not a stain on the soul to be found, at least nothing even worth mentioning. This would be his potential struggle, not the woman. Keeping his body as still as a statue, Julio's eyes locked onto the young man's, predator to prey.

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Faust's argument were convincing enough. Aerec remained skeptical about Faust and the Sith being out for the greater good, but he was too weak to be in conflict with the man. If Aerec knew anything, it was how to survive. And if he could help Darla along the way...

 

He spoke to Faust as he had only ever spoken to Master Trevelian, through the Force. What choice do I have? It was almost sickening to be using this particular method of communication with someone so opposite Darex.

 

Then the new arrival stared Aerec down. The look in his eye was nothing but threat. They hadn't spoken a word and yet a challenge had been issued. Aerec knew, however, that this challenge was deeper than any other challenge he'd faced. Julio undoubtedly represented a threat to Aerec's survival.

 

Aerec's eyes tightened and nothing went through his mind but the need to survive. No, the need not only to survive, but to conquer. His pulse quickened. Finally, he felt the last of the narcotics let go of their grasp on his body. He summoned his strength and stood. His eyes remained locked with Julio's, but he did allow a half grin when his full stature put him a good few inches taller than his newfound rival.

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As the young lad stood, his eyes equally locked on to his own, Julio could feel a sense of defiance rise within the boy. He was not afraid, in the general sense, but a base sense of the emotion was stirred within Aerec. Perhaps he was just sizing him up, figuring his chances for survival. Wise, bemused Julio as he offered a short but soft nod in return of the boy's confident grin. Yes, this would be his struggle, but at the moment nothing could be done, especially with his master's knuckles bound tight around his sword. While Faust was around, this new apprentice would have to be treated like any other guest.

 

Since there was little he could do to solve his problem at the moment, he pushed the subject to the back of his mind and turned his attention away from Aerec, casually shrugging off the lad for another time. For now he turned his attention back toward Faust, awaiting patiently for his command.

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Faust sighs, looking over to Darla, then back to Aerec, then shakes his head. "Cat got your tongue I see," he notes dryly, watching the exchange and half wondering whether he was refering mostly to Darla, but also Aerec and his apprentice as well. He hoped for a more interesting bit of chemisty here: take an innocent padawan, a ruthless Sith, and a frightened young woman caught between their worlds, shake, and see what the explosive results were.

 

"Well, Darla," he begins with a flourish, renewing his introductions. "this is Julio Furion. Julio, this is your new apprentice. She lost her memory of the Force just as you lost yours altogether. I believe you should take her and train her in the ways of the Sith. If you do so, you might both remember. Aerec here, is mine." He places a hand on Aerec's shoulder, almost protectively, but his jaw set like a wolf marking its territory.

 

"However, if neither Aerec or Darla are receptive to our teachings," he adds with a faint smile, having caught the earlier exchange between the two, "he's yours to train." Though Faust's tone is mild, the use of the word 'train' is stressed differently when speaking of Darla and Aerec respectively.

In Italy for thirty years under the Borgias they had warfare, terror, murder, bloodshed - but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance. In Switzerland they had brotherly love, 500 years of democracy and peace, and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock.

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Aerec almost couldn't stop a smug half-grin from coming on his face when Faust came to Aerec's side. A slight edge over this Furion.

 

Then he caught himself and felt slightly disgusted. He didn't dare react outwardly to Faust's touch, though it held a weight heavier than its simple physical properties.

 

Faust had claimed ownership over Aerec. That was a sick thing. Darex had never done such a thing. Aerec had always been free to choose. Would he be under Faust's tutelage? In Faust's presence whatsoever?

 

In that moment, he desperately wished Darla wasn't cut off from the Force. On more than one occasion in the past, she'd been a guiding friend, and though she was in a more difficult place than Aerec at the moment, he still felt that communicating with her might help him.

 

But he was alone. Again. And here he was, practically grinning like an idiot at the attention of an evil man. What was Aerec becoming?

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Darla frowns and presses a hand to her head.

 

"What?!" She exclaims. "I didn't come her to be any-one's apprentice. Especially not the apprentice of your apprentice. I've done this before. I trained as a Sith. I was made a Lord."

 

Floods of memory came back to her. She remember who she had been. The rage that had been deep down inside her. With a little coercion it had come to the surface. But only a little. She didn't have to pushed that far to release the hatred and anger inside herself. Darla had been so malleable. So easily shaped into a Sith.

 

"I'll speak with this man... I'll try to help him uncover his memories as I uncover my own. But I won't become his apprentice. That's not why I'm here."

 

There was a fire behind her eyes and for the briefest of moments she appeared to be the woman that she once been.

 

"What happened to my droid? She was on my ship when we crashed on Mon Cal."

 

Almost as an after thought she added, a lot more calmly.

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"Ah," Faust states, placing his other hand on Aerec's other shoulder, hovering almost protectively over the boy, "perhaps I spoke too... hastily. Pardon my error," his words are smooth and benign, though he catches that fire and cannot help but smile. "I had hoped your working with Julio in delving into the Force would create a resonnance and help him recover his memories, as well as overcome your own block with the Force. I did not know you remembered your training, though it will be helpful both to Julio and perhaps even Aerec."

 

He gives a deliberate and good natured chuckle, "I confess, it does seem natural, picturing you as a Sith Lord, or would it be a Lady of the Sith? Well, Julio is a Sith to the core and not a Jedi by any stretch of the imagination. Your expertise and use of the Dark side may be the only way to draw him out of his amnesiac shell." He shrugs as if dismissing the matter.

 

"I regret your droid was lost with your ship on Mon Calamari," he states, closing his eyes briefly to check the Imperial logs stored in his ship's memory. He gives Darla a sympathetic look. "Give me the model type, and I'll do what I can to give you a replacement."

In Italy for thirty years under the Borgias they had warfare, terror, murder, bloodshed - but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance. In Switzerland they had brotherly love, 500 years of democracy and peace, and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock.

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When Faust speaks Darla feels suddenly cold. It was something that she hadn't really faced up to or had been willing to admit before. But she had been a Sith. She had controlled the Darkside, her own Darkside. It seemed so right. So natural...

 

When had she stopped controlling it? Why had she stopped controlling it? Surely having a Sith's mastery of her own Darkness was preferable to this fractured state that she was in now. As she thought about it she remembered all her training, all that she had been able to do. The power that had coursed through her small body.

 

What had happened?

 

The Jedi... I returned to the Jedi to finish my training with them. I shunned my Sith training... For Nivana... I wanted to keep her safe... Protect her from the Darkside...

 

Darla's thought and feelings came in uneasy fits and starts. She was seeing a large puzzle that still had many pieces missing from it.

 

"She was one of kind." Darla said referring to her Droid Aimee.

 

She had been so much more than just a droid. She had seemed so human, so curious. Like a child. A friend. Aimee had taken Darla's blood sample to Skye when her mistress had been slain. Darla owed her life to that Droid.

 

"You can't replace her."

 

Darla wanted to weep but now wasn't the time. Faust was watching her every move with almost glee.

 

"The force is lost to me at the moment." Darla changed the subject away from Aimee. "It comes and goes, mostly when I have strong emotions about something. I don't have any control over it. There are a lot of things that I can't remember. But I remember my time with the Sith. I remember my training with the Sith... and the Jedi. I just don't have the necessary power to use any of things that I've learned."

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As Darla speaks of her time as a Sith, he looks over to Aerec, stepping to his side as to allow the boy to see his face. His look is one of sage understanding, giving the boy a nod, his thoughts brushing Aerec's mind alone.

 

Your friend once embraced the Dark side. It is her rejection that has caused this turmoil in her. There is nothing to fear, nothing unnatural about what she did, what I did... and... if you search your feelings, what you aspire to do as well, Aerec. Do not let yourself be deceived by the Jedi's shackles of ignorance.

 

"Ahh," Faust notes aloud after Darla finishes, his voice and face feigning sadness and regret with an actor's perfection. "A trusted companion lost on the battlefield is worth mourning. There might be a chance to save her. Give me her details: physical appearance, specs, and the like, and I'll contact my friends remaining on Mon Calamari about salvaging it."

In Italy for thirty years under the Borgias they had warfare, terror, murder, bloodshed - but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance. In Switzerland they had brotherly love, 500 years of democracy and peace, and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock.

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Faust again spoke to Aerec through the Force, and again Aerec felt strange hearing Faust's voice, not Darex's.

 

But his resolve against the man had long been softening. He did not yet want to commit to the Sith, but almost too many factors were piling up for him to remain resolute. His time with the Jedi had been so short...and Aerec had been no pure soul or perfect student during those times.

 

Perhaps Faust was right. Perhaps there was some darkness in Aerec that needed addressing. Just like Darla? he wondered.

 

What will become of me if I reject your training? he asked the Hunter, more out of curiosity than as a threat to do so. He knew full well he was at the mercy of this man and therefore his choices were limited.

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Darla was surprised once again by Faust's behaviour. She still didn't expect any kindness from him but he continued to show it. Once he said that Aimee was gone, Darla expected the droid to be scraped. She had even thought that even if that wasn't the case, thatout of cruelty Faustwould have had her scrapped anyway. It just went to show that Darla didn't know Faust at all.

 

For a long time she had feared him. The image, the persona of Faust in her mind had grown into this vast monster. A shadow man who brought nothing but death. Reality seemed different however. Darla knew that he was sadistic and evil, but he has shown a small kindness that she didn't think him capable of.

 

"She's quite unique a humanoid model," Darla continued to desribe Aimee as best she could. "She's been more of a companion to me than anythi g else."

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Faust nods, already thinking of a way to turn this information to his advantage. He cybermentally sends out a relay to his ship, which in turn sends a secured and untraceable comm to remaining Imperial agents on Mon Calamari. Perhaps they could salvage the droid. Yes, it did seem doable, though his contact would have to hurry with how Faust ordered the evidence of the Jedi's crash landing hidden. A short time later, a comm does come back: they think they found her, but would need to verify it.

 

Yes, Darla would get her droid back, though a few subtle changes would be in order. Yes, they would be very much in order for what he had in mind. Some sort of tracking means, hidden eyes and hears was always helpful, and if the core personality was tweaked just enough to allow a private override and add a more Sith friendly and subsersive attitude, well all the better then. Two mouths were always better than one.

 

Aloud, Faust is all smiles and a bening offer of friendliness. He taps his forehead. "I've sent word back to Mon Cal. I'll have agents looking for your droid. The ship was due to be scrapped for salvage, in part to avoid any... incidents... your landing may have caused, but there's a chance they can retrieve her."

 

Turning to Aerec, Faust frowns, trying now to look like a dissaproving uncle. "That places me in a very uncomfortable position, Aerec my boy," he states letting that perfect tone of regret creep into his voicebox. "Yes, you could be in theory returned to the Jedi, but what then? Trained to hunt my Order down on dogmatic, self-righteous principles? Letting you go could pose a danger to myself," he adds, "and I do not think letting you leave without learning the arts of the Sith would be doing you a service as well, for reasons we already discussed." At that his eyes flicker back to Darla.

 

"What would you have me do in that case, Julio?" he asks, turning his back to Darla and Aerec and facing his apprentice. Though his voice and tone are still that of the dissaproving uncle, he lets his eyes speak while talking to his apprentice, carrying all the inflection and tone he needs.

In Italy for thirty years under the Borgias they had warfare, terror, murder, bloodshed - but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance. In Switzerland they had brotherly love, 500 years of democracy and peace, and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock.

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He remained passive as the trio continued their pointless conversation over a droid. As boring as the conversation was, Julio could sense why Faust chose to accommodate the Jedi pair. He was a wolf among the sheep, and even now he proved that he truly was a master at work. Watching his master work was the only thing that really kept the apprentice's attention other than the standard practice of passively observing others. It was beautiful and elegant, if you knew how to look at it.

 

Now attention was once again turned to him. Faust seemed to want to know Julio's opinion on the matter, but only a fool would think that were the case. Real communication came not from the words a person chose or the inflection they gave to their words, but what their body said. Subtle movements in the body, dilation in the pupils, even the pace at which they took their breath could say more than all the words known to sentients. It was his master's eyes that spoke to him now. He remained silent for a moment, thinking of the precise words he would use to properly express the message he wished the others to understand.

 

"I think that some training would be good for the boy." His eyes similarly peered into Faust's own as he spoke, slow and steadily, his words very exact with a careful tone. "A different perspective will help him experience the galaxy for what it truly is. If nothing else, it will show him why he chose to join the Jedi in the first place, and reinforce such inclinations."

 

His gaze now shifted past Faust's shoulder, his golden eyes now peering straight into Darla. "As for the forsaken one, I cannot fully say. I would give her a similar message, but I would not be completely honest if I said that her lack of self awareness was the entirety of my concern. If she does know anything about me, I would like to speak with her and see if it helps." Though his tone had remained calm and calculated, there was a hint of desperation well hidden in the bounds of his voice. Would she notice it? Would his master notice it? The boy? He silently prayed to himself that his momentary weakness had stopped at his lips and fell not on the ears of the others.

 

His tone bounced back to his even edge, trying to recover from the slip of the tongue, if indeed it had been noticed by the others. "If there is nothing else, I would like to retire for the evening if that is possible. The trip here was less than pleasant, and I've missed out on my meditation for the day."

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"You may leave. There are quarters prepared for us and our guests down the platform," is Faust's short reply, one hand holding the side of his head. His emissary on Coruscant had sent back a coded, untraceable, and secure message, which caused Faust to smile. "Ahh, it seems I've been accepted by our bretheren as the new official Dark Lord of the Sith." He turns to Julio, "When you reach your quarters, there will be a message waiting for you outlining a new plan we have. If you both wish it," he says, glancing over to Darla, "I'd like her to accompany you and for you both to continue your meditations. It may give you both some clarity."

 

"Aerec, you may come with me, and I'll see to your quarters," he says, in a voice that while mild, makes it clear it's also a command. "And do tell me about your training with Darex. I haven't had too much contact with him over the years, but it's good to hear of an old... aquantance..."

In Italy for thirty years under the Borgias they had warfare, terror, murder, bloodshed - but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance. In Switzerland they had brotherly love, 500 years of democracy and peace, and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock.

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"Yes, my master." He said softly with a short, formal nod. With nothing left to discuss, or rather nothing left to discuss whilst in present company, Julio spun around and headed down the platform, his long crimson coat fluttering with his quick pace. He didn't want spend any more time there than he had to, assuming an air of hesitation that if he were to remain his tongue might let slip more than he wanted. If Darla chose to follow him, that would be her decision, but he had hoped that his argument was enough to persuade her to assist him.

 

Once in his room, it took Julio very little time to settle in. Without even so much as removing his coat or freshening up, he immediately knelt in the middle of the floor with his back to the door and began to utter the words he had repeated so many times before. A small catechism held between him and the dark utterance of the force in a sort of quid pro quo, each response opening him up to such terrifying vistas of awareness that would drive any lesser man insane. On and on he muttered to the unseen, ethereal energies basking him in uncontrollable passions he had yet to fully understand.

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Aerec was slowly drifting towards a decision. He and Faust walked in private toward his quarters. He still didn't know exactly how much to tell Faust. He had made the decision to trust him in his statement that Darex was safe. But how much information should he trust him with? What information would be considered a betrayal of the Jedi? Was Aerec still a Jedi?

 

"My training with Darex was interrupted by some interesting events, mostly featuring you, Faust." Aerec spoke with no malice, rather a touch of humor. "However, Master Travelian trained me in basic Force manipulation like Force push and pull. He taught me to communicate silently through the Force, as I've already done with you. We had done very little with lightsaber combat, though I sparred with Darla on an occasion or two. I did a lot of studying on my own time about the different lightsaber combat forms and the history of the Jedi and Sith."

 

He thought back on all the things Darex had told him specifically about the Jedi and Sith, Light and Dark. Still, none of it made real sense to him. It was all...theoretical. "I'm afraid I wasn't a very advanced padawan when...Mon Calamari happened."

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Faust gives a short nod of approval. "The basics are common to both the Jedi and the Sith, given their common origin in antiquity. If you wished to follow the path of the Sith, you're already learned our techniques as well. The only difference lies in the means by which we empower ourselves to perform those techniques."

 

Faust stops in the middle of the hallway, his hand almost scratching the side of his trench coat, under which he held one of his blue bladed lightsabers. "If you're not tired, I could show you some more advanced saber skills. I may not be the duelist that Darex was," he adds, almost laughing from the irony, "but I can possibly show you some interesting tricks."

In Italy for thirty years under the Borgias they had warfare, terror, murder, bloodshed - but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance. In Switzerland they had brotherly love, 500 years of democracy and peace, and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock.

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Aerec nervously ran his fingers along his palms, the small motion a betrayal of his quickening heart rate. Faust had said "If you wish to follow the path of the Sith..." He didn't wish that. Though he had never been sure what the path of the Sith was, he didn't want to be like Faust or any of the Sith he'd read about. At least, not entirely. There were things to admire about them, but....

 

It was a strange out of body moment when Aerec saw his own thought pattern changing. Faust's words had worked, whether intentional or not. Faust had piqued Aerec's curiosity with the offer of sparring. Aerec knew then and there that he wouldn't turn this offer down. And he knew then and there that the decision might redirect his fate.

 

He took a deep breath in and became fully within himself again. He forced a small grin. "I'm not tired. I've been sleeping halfway across the galaxy thanks to the meds you gave me." He allowed a chuckle, and savored it. I hope whatever time I spend with this Sith doesn't kill my laughter. It probably wouldn't. Faust laughed on occasion, though Aerec often seemed to miss the joke. "I could use a work out," he concluded.

 

Then he took another breath and steeled himself against the worst of his fears of what Faust might be. "Just to be clear, though, I'm not sold on this Sith path thing yet. I'm just interested in your dueling techniques." That wasn't entirely true, but it was for the moment.

 

Was I ever sold on the Jedi path thing either?

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Faust once again gives a faint half-smile at Aerec's joke, though he gives no other response, turning and leading the way towards a large open room. "Take what you can, take what you need, and make the most of it," he intones softly. "That is the correct way to view matters if one wishes to survive."

 

Faust reaches into his coat, tapping his custom white metal armor, and musing a bit, takes out a lightsaber he was working on, tests it, and notices a crimson flash as it activates. Deactivating it, he tosses it to Aerec. "This isn't a training saber, boy, so you will need to be careful with it if you don't want to take your own head off."

 

"There is only one thing you ever need to use a lightsaber for," he says, taking one of his pale blue sabers out. "Cut! Every action you have should be aimed as if using your lightsaber as a lethal weapon. Cut! Destroy your enemy before he can destroy you. Cut! Be smart about it, defeat their defenses, then defeat them."

 

Faust gives his saber a testing spin in his hands, letting it whirl around. "Yes, a lightsaber has utility elsewhere as a tool, lightsource, and so on, but remember, first and foremost, cut! You cut away the metal, you cut away the darkness! Be aggressive, use your anger, and your senses are honed and ready for combat, ready to cut." Faust circles aroudn Aerec, his saber still twirling, his mouth in a wide, wolfish grin.

 

"Know where your opponent will strike!" he directs, lashing out with a blow towards Aerec's midsection, suddenly reversing for an attack at the face. "Cut! And block their attack. Use the Force to read their movements, and always, always think, angry and agressive, but cool!" He reverses again, bringing his saber around at Aerec's left side. "Cut! Use the mind, use the Force as your blade!"

In Italy for thirty years under the Borgias they had warfare, terror, murder, bloodshed - but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance. In Switzerland they had brotherly love, 500 years of democracy and peace, and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock.

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Dark Lord of the Sith??? Darla was shocked. All the things she had thought about Faust's kindness quickly dissipated. He was the ruthless killer that she had thought him to be and probably more...

 

But Kakuto was the Dark Lord once and you loved him, cared for him... Was he pure evil? Was he any better or worse than Faust?

 

Questions filled Darla's mind. She wasn't sure what to think at all. The sudden news of Faust's ascension had completely thrown her. She came back to her sense when Faust suggested that she follow Julio. There was a part of her that was afraid but another part of her that wanted to follow.

 

For a few minutes she waited pondering. But her curiosity soon got the better of her an she entered his room. She was surprised to see Julio kneeling on the floor muttering to himself. Was this how he meditated? Darla had never been one for meditation herself but from what she knew, Julio's behaviour was a little strange.

 

She watched him for a little while, wondering exactly what he was doing before she spoke up.

 

"I'm not sure about this meditation thing? I mean... I can't even touch the Force right now. Meditation's not going to change that." Darla knelt on the floor next to Julio. "Maybe we could just talk? Apparently I knew you once. I can't remember that. I can't remember what happened."

 

Darla too a deep breath.

 

"Faust says you're the man who killed me."

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There was something about Faust's movement and speech that ignited something within Aerec. Perhaps it had been his statement about survival: one that rang true in Aerec's experience. Perhaps it was the rhythm and intensity of Faust's words, punctuating most of his sentences with an emphasized "Cut!" that touched something in Aerec. Or the way he moved around quickly and grinned like a predator. Something in Aerec knew that Faust could end him and if he didn't cut he wouldn't survive.

 

Faust's jabs were powerful, but easy enough to block. He'd handled a blade before and his duels with Darla had been at a quicker pace than this. Darla, however, had not represented the pure and intense ruthlessness of Faust.

 

He took a moment to let Faust circle around to his back then waited a moment. When he felt that an attack might come in the next instance he executed a cut of his own, towards the Hunter's legs.

 

After his first attack, he no longer let himself stay flat-footed. He danced with the Sith's movements, keeping as square as he could with him, delivering slices and blocking those coming in return.

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In utter darkness he remained kneeling in the room. The flame dancing upon the candle wicks that had previously gifted light to the small chamber had been nearly smothered, now mere orbs of grasping luminescence. His speech was little more than audible while his hands slowly traveled from bead to bead on the long black rosary wrapped around his palms. His awareness extended beyond his immediate self, reaching out past the room and treading every so softly to his master and guests. Faust was teaching the boy, their passions slowly growing as caution broke into aggression, their entire forms lashing toward the other. The woman had remained behind, contemplating her options. Her mind was troubled, but Julio decided to pay it no heed. The immediate questions could not be found there, but elsewhere, somewhere deep with the force. He continued his catechism, beckoning the darkness surrounding to answer his call. As his awareness of the external world increased, he found himself ignoring it to look beyond, into the raw flow of the force.

 

Just as Darla reached the door outside the room, a long exhale escaped Julio, bringing both himself and the candlelight back to the here and now. He still spoke to himself quietly, staying somewhat in meditation to keep mindful of his surroundings while he had his back to a complete stranger. When she entered, he remained still with his back to her. She remained silent for a while, believing him to still be meditating. Still at the door, she spoke up.

 

"I'm not sure about this meditation thing? I mean... I can't even touch the Force right now. Meditation's not going to change that." Then she knelt beside him. "Maybe we could just talk? Apparently I knew you once. I can't remember that. I can't remember what happened." She paused to take a breath, preparing herself for something. "Faust says you're the man who killed me."

 

He kept his head lowered, but he ceased the catechism. Opening his eyes for the first time, he said in barely a whisper, "That is...possible."

 

How much should he tell her, he wondered. If she did know something about him, then she may know how to reverse this curse upon him. But then again, she was still a sheep at heart. I have to be careful with her.

 

"You can touch the force. It is only your mind that has prevented you from doing so thus far. We are the same, in that regard. I, too, cannot conquer my mind. Even Master Faust is unable to successfully remove the walls within my mind."

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Faust's grin widens, and though the heat of battle glitters in his eyes, there is also approval and even recognition. Faust steps back, chosing to use distance rather than an outright parry to avoid the cut at his legs, then follows with a lunging strike aimed at Aerec's torso.

 

"Be fluid, be mercurial, and seek an opening, always searching where to cut. There are only two kinds of people in this galaxy, and they are preditor and prey. The preditor is aggressive, the preditor hunts, the preditor cuts."

 

Faust speeds up his parries and attacks now, his breath quickening.

 

"The preditor holds his prey in contempt, a slow, cool anger and hatred that allows clear thinking and the power of the Dark side. It flows into the aggressive actions." He strikes hard and fast with a mid level jab for Aerec's stomach. "It gives him focus." He launches into a dazzling quad-attack in a matter of a second, with a double-disengage, a coupe' over Aerec's blade, then extends for a lunge at the throat. "It allows one to strike!"

 

Faust's last attack is double blow. His left hand extends and a Force push knocks Aerec off his feet and onto his knees. There is a brief moment where Faust towers over Aerec, his white trench coat flapping back, his custom, alchemic armor shining brilliantly, and with that, he thrusts once more at Aerec's hand, deliberately leaving an opening at his midsection.

In Italy for thirty years under the Borgias they had warfare, terror, murder, bloodshed - but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance. In Switzerland they had brotherly love, 500 years of democracy and peace, and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock.

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As the sparring continued, Aerec let the Force start to flow through him. Faust dodged his first sweep and Aerec took the cue and dodged Faust's counterattack, stepping aside before thrusting back.

 

But Faust turned up the speed steadily on the attack, and soon Aerec found himself unwillingly giving ground. Every blow from the Hunter was powerful and weakened Aerec's grip on the handle. But still, he trusted the Force. Listening to Faust's instructions, he found himself deeper into the Force, just as Darex had taught him to dive into it.

 

His steps and blocks had moments of pure smoothness, though Faust's aggression still caused him to stumble disjointedly. In one moment, Faust completed a complicated maneuver that, in hindsight, might've killed the young man. He didn't know how he'd blocked or dodged all of Faust's strikes -- at least four in a matter of short seconds. In fact, he didn't know if he had dodged or blocked, just that he had survived.

 

But his thoughts and actions were not fluid enough to predict the Force push. Suddenly Aerec found himself on the ground, the Hunter standing above him. He had blocked a lunge from Faust, but found himself on the ground anyway.

 

Faust lunged again, Aerec nearly helpless on the floor. But the Force was still welling up in him, and an energy cackling under Aerec was almost to the point of explosion. He didn't know how long the energy had been building, only that he'd first noticed it at the beginning of the sparring.

 

But there it was, almost ready to burst as a deadly weapon came at his head. Eighteen years of life in the gutters finally ripped through the comic mask Aerec had tried to put over it. He'd scrapped for food and shelter until he'd stumbled on one tiny piece of luck that led him to the Jedi, to a family that could provide stability and comfort and purpose. And now Faust had ripped it all under him, taken him captive, and once again thrown him into isolation! This man, this horrible man had taken away everything he might be, everything he could be, everything he'd dreamed of being, everything!

 

But, no, there was more that came out in one undecipherable scream. While the Jedi had provided Aerec with food and shelter, they had taken away the one thing which he'd held onto his entire life: his brother. On Corellia, Dante was all Aerec ever needed. No Jedi Master, no lightsaber, no supposed vision of justice could replace a brother!

 

And Dante! That know-it-all older brother hadn't even given Aerec the choice! He'd just up and left, leaving Aerec with his new family, like he'd finally found an adoptive family to dump his little brother off on.

 

Aerec did not hear his own scream for the first few moments, nor did he hear the clash of blades when he knocked Faust's strike aside long inches from his face. He didn't feel the impact of his body, propelled by a thrust in the Force, slammed into Faust's exposed midsection.

 

His scream did bring him back to reality atop the Sith, slamming into his face with his right fist, his left hand desperately trying to keep Faust's lightsaber arm at bay.

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