Kamino

[Vladimir Faust]

Faust reels back, feeling blood drip from his nose as Aerec slams into him, feeling a hard pressure in his midsection as Aerec slams into him. Faust grins wider, licking his blood off of his face in the middle of combat. Some part of Faust, even as he fights off Aerec, catches glimpses of the boy's conflict.

 

"Good! Use that anger! Use that hatred!" he is roaring now, his saber pressing back against Aerec's, sending out a shower of sparks, his other hand catching the Apprentice's fist in his own. "Remember!" he adds, thrusting his bloodied face up to Aerec's. "This world has no mercy, no pity, and neither should you!" He savagely headbutts Aerec, then throws him off.

 

With surprising agility, Faust rolls backwards to standing, taking wide, side-to-side strokes at the boy.

 

"The Dark side allows you to channel that power, to have your justice, and to cut at those who would deny you!"

 

Faust takes another broad stroke, right to left.

 

"If you want the power save yourself, save others and save your family, embrace it! CUT!"

 

Faust takes his saber back in preparation for a swing that would cleave down through Aerec in one stroke, putting all his power behind it. He once more leaves his torso wide open and exposed, bringing his hand back in mid-swing to protect his face.

 

An image forms in Aerec's head, originating from Faust, showing the inevitable blow, far too quick and powerful for him to stop, sure to cleave him in two, unless-

 

"Strike me! Take your hatred for your own and-!"

 

-the boy thrust, and skewered the Dark Lord through the heart. The image of Aerec, his blade run through the Hunter forms... or is it Darex he is striking down, or even...?

 

With a blow that leaves his white, shining armor, and his heart beneath, exposed to a stroke from Aerec's blade, he brings his lightsaber down in accordance with that vision.

 

"-CUT!"

[ForceFusion]

Aerec's blood mixed with Faust's after the brutal headbutt. But the pain only angered Aerec more. Standing and charging the boy lashed out a string of the worst profanities he'd learned on the streets of Coronet.

 

His well of emotion was not running out. Rather, it was building. With every cut he blocked, blow he delivered, curse he spoke, and word from Faust he heard, he grew more angry. Angry at Dante for abandoning him, his parents for abandoning him before that, every scumbag CorSec joker who'd chased him on Corellia or made his survival more difficult, the Jedi for tearing him away from his brother, Faust, the selfish, deluded, gutter rat of a man that tore him away from the Jedi....himself for becoming such a damn mess in his new life...the whole damn universe for just dealing him shit for cards the past two decades.

 

Suddenly, Aerec saw nothing but a glimpse of the future, his death and the one way to get out of it: by striking at Faust's heart.

 

He had no problem with this. He cared nothing for Faust. He loathed him for twisting him into this flailing, angry chunk of flesh.

 

He cut, just on Faust's cue.

 

Then his eyes played a trick on him. He was cutting at Darex's heart.

 

Or was it Darla's?

 

Or Dante's?

 

He couldn't freeze time.

 

And above all, he couldn't die.

 

He didn't hesitate. Faust, Darex, Darla, Dante, or Aerec....pick one. Aerec picked.

 

He picked himself.

 

((Congrats, my friend. I'm not sure Aerec can recover from this.))

[Vladimir Faust]

Faust's lightsaber continues its cold arc downward at blinding speed, coming to an abrupt stop literally a hair above Aerec's neck, causing one of the upright hairs on the back of said neck to singe and burn. The Hunter's grin is fixed, open and wide as he feels the terrible pressure slam into his chest, hurting more than it should have from the thrust of Aerec's lightsaber.

 

His eyes glance down, looking at the deactivated lightsaber in the Apprentice's hands, then with another involuntary glance up towards his alchemic armor: a hybrid of Sith Steel and Cortosis, which stopped the attack cold. Even despite the firm metal of the armor and the padding underneath, he still felt the beginning of a bruise over his chest from the physical force of the impact. It was worth it for what he accomplished. It would have been worth it perhaps even if that blade was not stopped and it really had cut through his heart.

 

The Hunter licks his lips slowly. He felt Aerec's internal cry of anger, of pure hatred. Directed inward, is coursed through the boy, and shattered his fragile soul. The sounds, the cacophony of anguish and rage, and behind it the tinkling glass of a broken heart and mind, they were all beautiful. Internally, Faust drank in those emotions, using them to nourish part of his blackened soul.

 

He captured perfectly the sensation of the emotions and thoughts he brought to bare in the boy: A soul willing to throw it all away, ready to kill in hatred just to survive.

 

Regardless of the immediate results, or whatever followed, those memories would nourish Faust. Those thoughts, full of anger, self-loathing, and hatred, would damn the boy.

 

He puts his own saber away, then removes the one he loaned to Aerec, tucking both back into his coat. He lets the silence hang in the air, hearing only the boy's breathing, wondering if the boy was replaying what happened as well.

 

"You are awake now." Faust's voice is barely a whisper, low but intense. "Your whole life, you have been asleep. You are awake and reborn, capable of meeting your true potential. Who you were, what you might have been, you have killed, and you are better and stronger for it."

 

Faust, his face still covered in his own blood, stares down at Aerec. "You will need a new name, boy, a name by which to master your new destiny, to reshape an uncaring universe that has wronged you."

 

And that name, would be Darth ________....

[ForceFusion]

A stream of air snaked its way up from Aerec's lungs and out his nose. The miniscule muscle twitching that action took was the only movement his body allowed. Perhaps his heart muscle even froze. The singe of death from Faust's lightsaber kept him in place, his life too precious to be thrown away with carelessness.

 

He suddenly became very aware that his lightsaber had not skewered Faust through the heart, that they were both alive. He slammed the now harmless lightsaber hilt against Faust's armor twice, three times, hearing only the pathetic clinking sound of metal against metal. In disbelief, he let Faust pry the now useless weapon from his hand.

 

With the heat of Faust's blade now away from his neck, Aerec's breathing became heavier. And the exhaustion came.

 

Faust's words assaulted him, perhaps more harshly than his cuts had. "You are awake now. Your whole life, you have been asleep. You are awake and reborn, capable of meeting your true potential. Who you were, what you might have been, you have killed, and you are better and stronger for it."

 

You have killed...

 

Aerec had many sins on his hands and heart. He had cheated, lied, stolen, even maimed. Never had he taken a life.

 

It hadn't been any life, either. He had distinctly taken the lives of Darex, Darla, and Dante, perhaps the only people that had ever cared for him in this life. He had wanted only to kill Faust and in doing so had taken the lives of the three people he loved. He had killed and failed at killing.

 

A new emotion welled up.

 

"You will need a new name, boy, a name by which to master your new destiny, to reshape an uncaring universe that has wronged you." His chin quivered a moment, then it felt as if his entire soul was collapsing. Tears streamed down his face and it was all he could do to keep his breathing relatively silent.

 

Aerec quietly disagreed with Faust's semantics. Indeed, Aerec was a different person than he had been just moments ago, that he could not deny. He did not, however, feel any more awake. He did not feel reborn. Rather, he was re-marked, branded into a new identity. The fact was that he had not killed Faust or Darex or Darla or Dante. No, he had killed himself. Ironic, considering he had selfishly chosen himself to survive.

 

Every thought that came burst new bubbles of emotion in his gut, tearing the tears out from his depths. Whatever the wording, Faust was right. His identity had changed, and with such a great shift came a change in name.

 

He knew of the Darth tradition. He felt sick that he would take part in it. It caused his body to shudder with more weeping. And the thought of his pathetic form at the feet of the powerful Hunter only brought more self-loathing and hatred. And tears.

 

He did not feel ready to forge a new identity, though he felt as though he'd lost his old one. In that moment, he felt nameless. "Aerec Blackwood" was gone, or, at least, going.

 

As the word "Darth" formed in his head, it too seemed unnatural. But still Faust loomed over him, powerful as ever. In his weakness, the boy tried to find strength. The flow of tears was slowing and their salty liquid was drying on his cheeks. He sniffled in a full breath and straightened himself.

 

His words came out only as a whisper, and they felt alien to his tongue. "Darth Riftor," his voice scratched. And a small stream of tears followed the path of those previously cried.

 

((Riftor, derived from the Norwegian word "rifter", which means tears.))

[Vladimir Faust]

Faust watches the boy... rather the young Sith, once Aerec Blackwood, now Darth Riftor, steady himself. Though his face remains impassive, Faust's mind worked feverishly, knowing he was at a delicate crossroads. The boy's hatred was strong, very strong, but directed entirely inwards at the moment. No, Faust corrected, hatred was reserved for himself was well. Though Riftor was still a boy, he would be dangerous to him now. Faust would need to use his skills to direct Riftor's hatred outwards, towards appropriate foes. All the while of course, still keeping enough self-loathing in the boy to keep him locked in the path of the Dark side.

 

"Darth Riftor, you are not yet a full Sith. You have the power, and you have the will and determination, but you are lacking the training to make the most of that power. You will need to shape yourself further. Your hatred is making you very, very strong right now. Yes," he adds slowly, his eyes bright. "I sense what you are feeling, and that is good. Your anger can be channeled outwards. Feel it run through your body. It is a cold, destructive fire in need of an outlet, a target to cut. There are many in this galaxy all awaiting your hand to correct their inequities. The Jedi and their allies are one, those who wronged you on Corellia are another, and beyond that, your judgement, your feelings will lead you through if you follow your hatred."

 

Faust holds up his right hand, letting lightning crack demonstratively between his finger tips. "As you channel it out, you will always have a well of power in which to dip, and the more you draw out, the deeper it grows as you bend the very Force to your will. Nothing will stop you then, ever."

 

Faust steps backwards, bracing himself. "Take your emotions, your anger, and channel it at me. Hit me with your best shot." Faust taps the breastplate on his armor. "Use your telekenesis powers and drink them in! Savor your hatred, and expell it, bathing in the euphoria of its release. Lash out and cut, use the Dark side!"

[ForceFusion]

He looked at Faust through dead eyes. His breathing steadied and deepened. Into his stomach the air flowed. Faust spoke, calling him the new name which he had chosen: Darth Riftor. Just as it was alien to his tongue, it was alien to his ears.

 

Faust spoke of using this new power from anger. He prompted Aerec, no, Riftor, to strike at outward foes instead of keeping the hatred inward...where it belonged. He did not want to strike Darex and the Jedi. He had done that only out of survival. Perhaps he would want to exact revenge on those on Corellia. But he hadn't the energy now.

 

But Faust...yes, he could strike Faust. He could strike the man that had forced this new title upon him, the one who had twisted him into this angry, hate-filled, selfish Darth Riftor. The man who had made him kill his brother and therefore himself in one strike. Yes, he could strike him. He would strike him. He would send him across the room, break his lightsaber-defeating armor, break his ribs, and pummel his heart, that heart that should be skewered by the blade of light which he, Aerec, no, Riftor, both, either, it didn't matter, had wielded!

 

Yes, Aerec had killed. He had killed himself and become Darth Riftor. Now Riftor would kill. He would kill the man that had trapped him into the tradition of the Sith. There was no regret as the young Sith, screaming, slammed his fist into the armor of Faust, behind his knuckles the full weight of the Force. His skin broke and tiny drops of blood came from his knuckles, staining Faust's armor.

 

The Hunter flew back at Aerec's -- no, Riftor's -- strike, slamming into a nearby wall. He advanced on the fallen figure, partially recognizing that Faust had probably allowed the blow to have any affect at all, and reached out into the Force, yanking the lightsaber hilt from Faust's coat, igniting it as it slapped against his open palm.

 

His breathing remained steady and the tears on his face were now completely dry. He stood above his...master. A drop of blood fell from his knuckles onto Faust's white coat. "You have killed me. My blood is on you. You will die in return. At my hand."

 

Faust could kill him right there, Riftor knew. That was fine. Aerec was dead and Riftor was not worth anything yet. Faust would one day pay for his sins, even if it wasn't at the hands of the one he created.

 

He knew this was an actor of Riftor, not Aerec. And he hated it. Aerec would have attempted to diffuse the situation some other way, perhaps with a joke, perhaps by bargaining. Riftor, though, only knew loathing and anger. And guilt to fuel the cycle.

[Vladimir Faust]

Faust stares up, then contemptuously thrusts his jaw, summong a Force throw that hurled Riftor back against a far wall. He intended to let his apprentice fuel his anger against him, but the boy's bravado and hatred lead him to believe he could kill Faust... or that Faust would let him die. He brushes the blood of his armor with his hand, metal straining on metal.

 

"Your first less, Riftor," he grates, standing up, his hands sliding in twin weapons: One an ancient Sith sword made of the same material as his armor, another one of Faust's blue lightsabers, which snapped to life. "Is that killing a man is too easy, too quick, and too overrated. For what anyone deserves, it is far, far too painless."

 

He slowly advances, his boots leaving heavy metal stamps on the floor.

 

"If I wanted you and Darex and Darla all dead, I could have done it. Destroying a person now, that takes work and skill." He laughs, chuckling to himself. "You could very well kill me, but that wouldn't stop me. None of your former Jedi friend ever, ever figured that out. Ara came close, and so did Skye, and that is why they had to suffer." Faust's grin twists in involunary anger. One of those was incorruptable and bested him in battle. Furthermore, she...

 

"Destroying a man, means rendering him to his basest elements. It means taking away what defines him as a sentient being, what gives him purpose and drive in life, and crushing the life out of it." He gives a short ugly laugh, stopping and picking up Riftor, throwing a Force crush around him.

 

"I would destroy every last Jedi in this galaxy, every last weakling hiding behind their fragile and mocking hopes of a better galaxy, a better future, and better people." His face turns into a sneer of rage, his eyes turning bright. What Faust truly was was coming out in these brief moments. The beast within, still holding the Force crush, slinks around his prey.

 

"Let me tell you a story that may strike a chord with you, boy. Only 3 others know this story, and one of them is dead now, killed by my hand. You think you had it rough growing up? Surviving in the streets? Begging? You know nothing, not one damn thing. Imagine a sandblasted world of hell: Constant strife and warfare. Arid, hot and with warlords everywhere but no leaders. Children are plucked out of the crib and trained to fight from day one. Living past eighteen made you an old man in those bunkers or in those killing fields."

 

"Imagine two Jedi, a man and a woman, fleeing Order 66, falling in love, hiding in such a terrible place, sure they could be safe beyond civlization, able to impose order of out of chaos. Imagine two darling children of theirs, a boy and a girl. What would it be like born into that? What would you learn? Your parent's sainted ideals on one hand, and reality's harsh light on the other?"

 

"Hard to believe, isn't it? Me, the son of two sainted, wise Jedi. Anastasia and I, we were our parents children. Oh, we fought, and we were good at it, but we did it honorably: in defense, bringing help to the wounded, keeping watch. That still didn't stop me from killing my first at woman, but it was necessary and pure self-defense. If she escaped, my parents would have been discovered for what they were. You know what the sensation of killing in anger tastes like?" He asks, leering close, his eyes, blue and feral, meeting the boy's. "It's nothing like killing and being consumed by guilt and remorse."

 

Faust steps close, his Force grip tightening, holstering his lightsaber. "Anna was better than I was. She never killed, even if I had to do to save myself and our adopted family, a family of frightened children and warring men, all hidden in the same bunker complex. Yet we were both pure, both innocent." he spits to the side. "Then came that fatal day when I was twelve. Anna and I captured a young man sent to spy on our group." There is low, low anger in Faust's voice, a rage that caused the room to shake. "He was beaten and tied up. He was going to be given a slow, slow painful death by our protectors. Anna and I.... talked... and we knew it would be the right thing to let him go, to spare him."

 

Faust laughs, a hint of insanity echoing in it. "Jedi never learn. You all had me on Yavin. All of you, and you followed your nature... and like that boy we let loose, I came back. He... they... returned in force... knowing where we hid now. Anastasia was taken, as good as dead, or dead as far as I knew. My parents killed by that same boy, my age. I stood in the shelter as they died, now missing an arm, standing over the body of the boy, our fromer prisoner, the one that killed them in his madness and rage."

 

Faust slows, holding the end of Riftor's stolen saber in his metal grip, almost twiting the blade of light with his left hand. The Lightsaber screams and crashes out. Faust throws Riftor aside, physically this time.

 

"Anastasia, I thought her dead. That boy... told me she was, just to hurt me. He was a lad of twelves as well, and he was my greatest teacher. The world and the men inside offer no pity, show no mercy. My parents were his lesson. Sainted, pure, they were dead, and they cost me my sister for their arrogance. Their murdered was purer than they ever were. He was the face of this galaxy, and what it meant to survive." The mad light in Faust's eyes is dazzling, reaching its zeneth. "Anastasia would survive in captivity for years, broken and ruined, defiled and violated by those who took her. She was destroyed by the time I learned of her survival. I couldn't rescue her," he adds, telling Riftor a truth that only Faust and his late sister knew. Even his Reagan never knew this. "I could only end her suffering, neither of us able to stand what she had become." The madness fades, replaced by cool anger. "That story, you will carry to your grave, boy. Only two others alive know of it, and none that last part. Never, ever again is it to be spoken of."

 

"I destroyed you, and I would do it again, and to everyone else in this galaxy, setting it on fire, and watching it burn, burn until every fool learns this awful truth. Until then, there is no justice, no peace, no hope. Only lies and deceit." Faust sneers. "You hate me, but your hatred is a cleansing fire, one which unites us. You curse the world for what it has done to you, but I can offer you a way to burn it pure, I can destroy those who would stop us. The Dark side... is... that... flame..."

 

Faust breaks into more mad laughter, though he still keeps a careful eye on Riftor. "I have destroyed you, but you, you cannot destroy me. You might succeed in surprising me, murdering me in my sleep, but you, nor anyone else can ever destroy me. I... have done so.... myself..." Faust grins. "Do not presume to try to kill me again, lest you succeed. You will lose the best ally you have in remaking this galaxy. Do not think you can destroy me, or that I would let you die so easily, for we are both the same."

[Reagan McGreggor]

A very encrypted and untraceable message gets dumped into Faust's ship's data banks... the code is old... jedi, coruscant, hunt Three words, no sender mentioned.

[SithAcolyte]

((OOC: Sorry it's taken so long, had a majorly hectic week ))

 

"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."

 

Darla walked slowly into the darkened room. Walls within his mind? Was this man suffering from a similar affliction to her? If he was, then how were they to help one another.

 

The blind leading the blind...

 

She chuckled inwardly at the thought. Somehow she was just as lost as ever. The sad thing was that she had dragged Aerec along with her. She had thought that he would be safe with her, that she could at least keep an eye on him. But how was she to protect him when she couldn't even protect herself?

 

You've really done it now. Trapped with the Sith, no powers and very little idea of who you are. Nothing really changes...

 

After her first cloning she had been a similar position, she remembered that much.

 

"So... How?" She spoke up as she neared Julio. "How are we supposed to break through these barriers in our minds? How are we supposed to remember who we are?"

 

It was surprising to Darla that she didn't feel anything around Julio. If he truly had killed her then surely she would be filled with the same violent rush from the Force that she had felt from Faust. What was it? Why was this Julio different? What had happened between them and why did her mind refuse to let her remember a single moment of it?

 

"Do you remember killing me?"

[ForceFusion]

Riftor listened to Faust's story, letting the pain from the battering seep in, feed his anger. It wasn't the physical pain that taught the young Sith his lesson. It was the reasoning in Faust's words. Both Aerec and Riftor -- for they both occupied the same body still -- believed that Faust had completely destroyed himself. Someday Riftor would still kill Faust, just for the sheer joy of it. But, no, he would never destroy him, not like Faust had destroyed Aerec.

 

"Am I supposed to feel pity on you?" he asked contemptuously, choosing not to acknowledge another defeat, no matter how small, at the Hunter's hands. He hated being completely inferior. His survival was in someone else's hands.

 

But there was power in his anger. He clung to it. It made him feel like he had some semblance of control.

 

Of course he wasn't to feel pity on Faust. He never would. The man had chosen his own sick fate. And had shaped Riftor's too, taken the choice out of young Aerec's hands. Riftor would feel nothing but contempt toward his ally.

 

((Sorry, crap post, life busy.))

[Darth Furion]

"No, not really. Only what Faust has shown me of what he could manage to glean from your subconscious."

 

He kept staring forward, his thumbs constantly moving between the beads as his meditation continued in a certain sense. Where he would be treading soon would be a dangerous road, and at every crossroads there would be a devil to deal with. It would all be because of this woman, what lie beneath the surface of her mind that would cause much pain and anguish to the young Sith. Still silently whispering to the force he began to recant one prevalent lesson that he had recently come to understand through his meditation.

 

The Sith is a constantly growing creature. With every new experience, each and every encounter lies the chance for a Sith to learn, and to grow. It us upon the Sith to choose carefully which encounters he exposes himself to, and thus to him to forge his very own destiny.

 

He had to make a decision, one that would forever change him as a person. Would he venture down this jagged road with Darla, or would he continue down his current path, unhindered yet wholly lacking on progress toward ending his status of amnesiac.

 

"The door to our past lies in whatever connection we had. If we attempt to reforge the bond between us, it may very well open up that particular chapter of our lives."

[Vladimir Faust]

At the word pity, Faust's anger takes on an almost visible aura, waves of hatred radiating from his being.

 

"Pity?" he spits, eyes flashing. "You know better than that, Apprentice. Pity made me what I am. Pity through your friends in the Jedi placed you in my hands. Pity and the shared weakness it creates, lies at the core of this galaxy's rot. If I thought you would pity me, you'd be dead." Faust's words are cool, but hatred seethes in his eyes. Only one dared pity him, and... and...

 

Fighting the memory down, he continues. "We are allies. We share a similar history and a similar goal. I have made you because I can use you for my ends. You will do the same with me. Hatred makes us both powerful, but do not let it cloud your judgment. Hate with reason, hate with a cool passion, and think. Your hatred must be at the core of your being, not a hot headed spurt of emotion. I want to make sure we understand each other clearly here. When our work is done, and those who deserve our wrath our buried, we will settle any... disputes... But, until then, control yourself. If you stay with the Sith, you may even gain the strength to best me someday..." though not very bloody likely.

 

Faust's own rage is controlled again, bottled back inside for use later. He unclenches his fists, sheathing his sword. "We have work to do and we shall need to head back to Coruscant at once. There are plans in motion that will reshape this galaxy, some that will require a personal touch." He was sure Yue had failed on Gala from his silence. He also wondered what had become of the others. Silent comms are dispatched on secure, untraceable lines from his ship with a simple cybermental command.

 

"We shall head to my ship at once. A new age is about to dawn on this galaxy, and it shall be one you shall have no small part in ushering in."

 

*****

 

Elsewhere a comm comes in:

 

Julio, we shall need to leave for Coruscant at once. Gather your things and meet me at the Sith Temple there. We're going to be making a broadcast to the galaxy.

[ForceFusion]

Had he struck something in the Sith Master? Perhaps. It was something to keep in mind. Yes, I will think with my hatred, Riftor grinned inwardly.

With all the hate he had for Faust, he began looking for ways to exploit this potential weakness.

 

There were more pressing concerns now, apparently. They were headed to Coruscant, another planet that the young Sith had never been to. This one, however, was not some anonymous sphere in the clouds of the galaxy's stars. Even with no education and no home on the streets of Coronet, Aerec had learned of Coruscant, the center of the universe. A touch of innocent excitement pierced through the pervading cloud of emotion that had become Riftor's identity.

 

A new age for the galaxy? What would that mean? Curiosity started to dance within the young man's mind. What damage could Faust cause at the center of power in the galaxy? What would Riftor's role be?

 

What role did he really want?

 

No matter. He would do what he needed to to stay in Faust's good graces. And it would be a pleasure to watch the man work. Though Riftor hated his...master for what he'd done to destroy Aerec Blackwood, seeing Faust manipulate others might prove useful.

[Vladimir Faust]

Faust leads the way back to its ship without another word, a simple cybermental command having the engines ready for when they step out into Kamino's stormy atmosphere. Ignoring the storm around him, Faust lets his trench coat flap behind him, grinning at the cold breeze that raked across him.

 

He hops into the front of the cockpit, motioning for his apprentice to take the seat behind him. It might seem foolhardy, but Faust wanted to be at the controls of his fightercraft, and between his link to the ship and his Force senses, he really didn't care about having Riftor behind him, keeping a watchful mind on his treacherous apprentice.

 

The lid of his cockpit shuts and the Bhelliom lifts into the air. As it does, one of Faust's favorite operas springs to life. the infamous Brief Reign, ironically once favored by Finis Valorum. Smiling at that, Faust punches the Bhelliom into hyperspace.

[SithAcolyte]

"The door to our past lies in whatever connection we had. If we attempt to reforge the bond between us, it may very well open up that particular chapter of our lives."

 

 

Darla knew nothing about the connection that they had. She wanted to scream out with frustration. Her body and her mind betrayed her. All she wanted was to remember. To be who she had once been. To find herself again. Too long had she been lost. Too long had she wallowed in self pity. Hating herself for not being able to grasp the power that had once been at her fingertips. For too long she had struggled to regain the life that she had once lost.

 

The life that this man took away from me... She thought staring at Julio.

 

She wanted to hate him. She wanted to hate him for what she had been told that he'd done. But she couldn't. She didn't. Because despite what she had bee told, she didn't know, didn't fully understand what he had done. Instead her hatred remained stagnant. Directed at herself.

 

When did this happen? When did you become such a pathetic worm? When did you let yourself become a captive?

 

There had been a time when Darla would have fought Faust with all her might. There had been a time when she would have died before she became his captive. She had followed him almost willingly into the cage that she was now in. Instead of struggling, instead of trying to escape, she was simply laying down. Giving up.

 

Is this where I'll die? I can't remember what happened. I can't help this Sith. When they know I'm of no use to them will they just kill me?

 

"I...I don't know what we had before. I don't know that there was ever a bond between us. Perhaps Faust is deceiving you. It's not against his nature... Or perhaps he is telling the truth..."

 

Darla did know what to say or do. She was suddenly very aware that she was alone in a darkened room with a Sith. In her current state he could probably kill her in an instant. She didn't even have a weapon.

[Darth Furion]

His senses perked up as the brisk voice of his master feathered the room. It was done, and the time to move on had come. Now she would have to decide.

 

"Fear." His lips quivered with the word, spoken in such a sense that he had never felt before. In feeling her fear, saturating the air around them more and more with every rapid beat of her heart, Julio could begin to feel the fear as his own, taking so twisting and conniving a path through his jagged psyche that it was impossible for the young apprentice to trace the emotion to its source. As much as it bothered him to fail at understanding this new hue of emotion, he gathered himself in the only way he knew how and focused on Darla, pushing aside the thought for another time.

 

"Fear is what has trapped you, Darla. I see it, my master sees it, and...you see it. Do not deny it. Ignoring such simple truths does nothing but keep you imprisoned within your own lie. Your fear, Darla, is what is holding you back."

 

His hand coasted over to hers, his fist wrapped tightly around something. He sat patiently, waiting for her to turn her hand to receive whatever it was he was offering. "This is my rosary." He said as the soft clatter of wood cut the silence in the room. The dull black beads weren't particularly spectacular, made of some dark wood with plain surfaces. Only a single bead, the beginning and end of the chain, stood out from the rest, taking on a pale, bleached bone facade. "I want you to keep it."

 

He rose from the floor, the only real movement she had seen out of him since she entered the room. It was time to depart. There was nothing to pack, no souvenirs, no heart felt good byes. All that was required was to obey the simple commands of his master. However, Julio couldn't help feel a pang of loss leaving this place. There had been so much hope of recovery within this girl, yet it all lay dormant, locked beneath the surface just as he had been trapped. Perhaps, if she truly did value the truth enough to overcome herself, she would return to him in time and help him reestablish the connection they once had. "Return it to me when you have stopped running, and are ready to hear the truth." Not so much as a fond farewell escaped their lips as he left the room, possibly as the last time they would see each other. All that remained was the path, and as always, the path would point him forward. To Coruscant.

[Anilara Kadav]

I looked to Sol with disdain as he dismissed my request for the weapons. He made the mistake of telling me, so now I knew he had them and was just hiding them from me. The comfort of a weapon in my hand brought me much joy no matter how heavy it was...

 

Its metal trigger and chassis feeling very comfortable in the palm of my hand, and I was forced to suffer that entire ride without anything to console my thoughts...

 

We reached our destination, but were still hovering above the planet waiting to land...

[Sol Kadav]

Kamino. A planet that's stormy weather never ceased. For years on end - ever since the planet was first discovered, Sol was sure -, the planet had never seen even a sliver of sunshine. Rain poured down from the heavens, threatening the planet with an increased sea level. There were several small 'communities' on the planet, though the majority of it was deserted.

 

Sol brought the Silver Eagle down to one of the open platforms, near a series of large structures propped up on thick, steel, poles. Every single building looked very modern. It was definitley a sight for sore eyes, for those who had never visited the planet before. Sol had been there only once or twice in the past, and thought that it was... peaceful there. Even he didn't know why he felt that way. Perhaps it was because he was away from Coruscant, where he had grown up and lived for the majority of his life?

 

After his ship settled onto the platform, he shut the engines down and unbuckled his seat belt. He looked over at Anilara, sensing her anticipation of the events about to unfold.

 

"Come on," he said, standing up. "I have a couple of blaster rifles, pistols, and thermal detonators in the cargo hold."

[Anilara Kadav]

By the time we landed I let out a large sigh. Not only had it been my first time flying, but I was near death from breath deprivation until I found the adjustment to the buckle...

 

However, as soon as I could squeeze it, my buckle flew off as Sol's did and my thoughts darted toward the weaponry. Which seemed to be quickly answered by Sol's speech. My mind cheered with glee as we walked to the cargo hold to get the rifles. The tempestuous storm of the planet's thundering weather causing my nerves to sky rocket to new heights as I anticipated the battle even more...

 

"Mmmmm... I can already smell the carnage. Let's go" I said looking slightly towards Sol as I harnessed the rifle I had chosen and made for the ship's exit...

[Sol Kadav]

As always, Sol had his two blaster pistols holstered at either hip, and now, slung his own, customized blaster rifle to his belt. For good measure, he stored four thermal under his shirt, to a strap that was fitted around his bare chest. To get to it, he had to lift the front of his shirt up, and clip each detonator on to an available metal loop. He glanced down and saw the stitching in his chest, and sighed. While he knew that the 'improvements' that the Black Sun doctors had given him would give him an enormous advantage in battle, he couldn't help but feel... different from the average, 'normal' being.

 

But, he couldn't think about that now. Smash had given them an assignment, and he wanted it dealt with as soon as possible. Sol knew that he was an impatient man, but luckily, he had been able to complete the few, but all of his previous assignments on, or before their actual deadlines.

 

He had to admit that the missile launcher built into - but hidden from view - in his right forearm would probably come in handy somewhere along the line during their visit to Kamino. He knew that the man they were after would probably want to make a run for it; however, unfortunately for him, he would never get that chance.

 

He walked over to where Anilara was, and flipped one of the switches on the wall to lower the boarding ramp. Almost immediately, the force of the wind, rain, and chill of the Kaminoan air greeted him. He was used to extreme weather conditions, since he traveled so much, but Kamino was a different story. While he could bear the planet's harsh, stormy atmosphere, it would be difficult for those who had never been to the planet before to cope with it.

 

He turned back to Anilara, blinking a couple of times, as if that would keep his already soaking wet hair out of his eyes.

 

"Come on," he said, having to raise his voice a bit so that she could hear him. "Let's check out that building first."

 

He jerked a thumb towards the nearest tower, which was less than half of a kilometer away from them.

[Anilara Kadav]

The chaotic fluctuations of the planet's weather brushing against my face was beautiful. The rain soaked through my single layer of clothing, but I kept my composure as I walked slowly toward the indicated building enjoying the heavy rand and winds playing with my silver hair.

 

If I wasn't here to kill someone I would very much like to explore this planet, I thought as I looked to the seas and saw that the cacophony of the sky's storming orchestra echoed within its depths as the waves crashed upon the bases of all of the floating buildings on the planet's surface. My Emotions were running wild and crazy with renewed ecstasy at the thorough action of the planet's spirit and these feelings continued until I stepped into the structures themselves...

 

Everything is so fricken WHITE!!

 

I walked into what looked like a sanitation center. All the walls were white and clean with barely a blemish at all. It was so blank that it was scary. As pedestrians walked by I had a yearning in my heart to just splatter their bodies across the walls to create some sort of diverse design...

 

My expression soured remarkably as we crossed the threshold and never in my life did I become so impatient as I tried to drive Sol into finding our target quickly... "I don't like this place, can we do what we need to do and get out of here?" I said as I frantically looked at all of the crazy blank walls surrounding me...

[Sol Kadav]

Sol was keeping busy with interrogating a random pedestrian as to where their target's whereabouts could be. The man he was questioning now looked at him with a puzzled expression on his face, obviously not planning on being bombarded with questions about a criminal who he clearly had no affiliation with.

 

"I don't know who you're talking about, sir," he said, running his hand across his forhead. He was perspiring, which made Sol even more suspcious.

 

"You're sweating," he remarked, smirking at him. "You know something, don't you?"

 

The man shook his head.

 

"No," he said. "I don't. I swear."

 

Sol held eye contact with him for a couple of seconds. He started to debate with himself, of whether or not he should let this guy go. He wasn't very convincing, telling him that he didn't know anything. However he finally realeased him. He stepped back, as if to allow the man to leave - which he did, without hesitation.

 

Sol turned back to Anilara, and couldn't help but feel a little bit surprised after she had asked him her question.

 

"Yes," he replied. "We should question a couple of the pedestrians around here, and ask them if they've seen Harrun."

[Anilara Kadav]

My face scrunched with discomfort at the aspect of our prolonged stay within these white porcelain walls. My eyes finding no rest as they scattered about the room frantically searching for something strange... something different...

 

Sol was in the midst of interrogating a pedestrian when the situation piqued my curiosity. The pedestrian clearly crumbling under the pressure of Sol's each word, but utterly resisting against Sol's countenance and performance. I watched the snide and pompous pedestrian walk away with the key info pertaining to our mission; taking with him one of the only chances at my freedom from this crazy Rock...

 

"You really need to learn the right way to persuade cowboy" I said to Sol as I walked up to the pedestrian as he waltzed away with a smile upon his face. I grabbed the poor rodian by his shoulder, turned him around and forced him onto the very walls I had been staring at for what seemed like hours...

 

Then, unholstering my rifle with my left hand, keeping him to the wall with my right forearm, I leaned the rifle so the barrel was right at his forehead...

 

"Now, I don't think my friend was very clear with you before... Scum! Tell us where Haruun is before I blow your crazy little head off", I said at a tone only he and I would hear. The Rodian hesitated and panicked, "I can't tell he'll... He'll kill me..." the green man said staring shakingly at the barrel of the rifle.

 

I stared at him with a fairly sardonic smile, thrusting my forearm further into his body and against the wall, "What, and I won't?"

 

The Rodian stared hard into my eyes as if he thought I were bluffing, but finally crumbled under the pressure of the combined force of the gun and his potential strangulation. "He... He is ... 4 levels down, near the central hub of this building complex" Said the Rodian with a sigh expecting me to release my grip...

 

"Wait... wait... Aren't you supposed to let me go?" the Rodian said frantically as he looked at my unwavering stance, "Now who told you that?" I said, Almost a whisper upon the Rodian's earlobes as I shot him, spraying green all over the putrid white walls...

 

"There... Much better," I said as I surveyed the damage and walked slowly back to Sol...

 

"Ok, so we are heading 4 levels down near the central hub of the building complex.... And even before you say it, I really don't care if its a trap..." I said as I started walking in the direction of a turbolift...

[Sol Kadav]

Sol was sure that the blaster shot would have alerted Harrun, or anybody else who was nearby. A couple of civilians ran off in various directions, as if their lives were in jeopardy, as well. He, however, did not intend to question anybody else. He was sure that they would be able to simply storm the core of the structure, and take out anything that moved. He could only hope that it was going to be that easy.

 

He followed Anilara to the turbolift, and pressed the button to call it to their floor. Only two seconds later, the doors slid open. He made his way into the compartment with Anilara, watching as the doors slid shut behind them. He jammed down on another button, which started the turbolift's descent towards the inner core of the building.

 

It was a slow-moving ride, so Sol was able to ready himself before their confrontation with Harrun, and whoever else he may have had along with him at that time. He pulled both blaster pistols from their holsters and held them, one in each hand, and re-adjusted the strap around his chest, which held his blaster rifle to his back. He glanced over at Anilara, unable to deny the fact that seeing her both interrogate and kill the Rodian was”¦ exhilarating.

 

”œYou ready?”

[Anilara Kadav]

Needless to say my blood was pumping as I felt the living beat of the Rodian's life drain away in front of me, so my ecstatic high had yet to back down as I entered the turbolift with Sol.

 

My mind was focused now, I had no longer seen the white walls haunting me within every corner of my mind. I had seen death and the macabre that spilled from that kill showered upon me motivation into the next ring of slaughtering. So I was eager as we made our way down from floor to floor as I watched the numbers ding by.

”œYou ready?”

[Sol Kadav]

Sol allowed himself to be yanked by Anilara, already working on his counter to their attack. The missile launcher that Smash had demanded be built into his arm was now visible, though he made sure to hide it from her view. He didn't need to be ridiculed for what Smash's doctors had done to him. Not now. Not ever. He was stronger, and had one hundred times the endurance that he'd had before. He didn't care what anybody thought about him now. He could take down a Jedi, should he ever need ”“ or want ”“ to.

 

He stayed crouched behind the table, then reached around it with his right arm, firing a single M9 missile towards the bar. If Anilara were to have looked to see what he had done, he hoped that she would assume that he had some sort of compact weapon with him that could fire small, eight inch long missiles. As soon as the missile left his forearm, he ducked back behind the table. If it wasn't for the fact that it was made of a strong, durable metal, they'd be done for.

 

The blast of the explosion rocketed the entire room. He heard a couple of their attackers cry out in surprise and pain, though the blaster fire still didn't let up. There were perhaps seven of them left, and from the sound of it, their morale was falling at a steady rate. One, if not more of them, ran from the room, towards the back of the bar. Whether or not they were going to try and escape remained yet to be seen.

 

He brought his blaster rifle up and squeezed the trigger, blind firing their remaining assailants, swinging his aim from the left to the right to spread the shots out, hoping to hit a couple of them.

[Anilara Kadav]

I had managed to pick off one or two peon thugs before a small glint caught my eye. Instinctively I pulled my head down, but when I realized it wasn't coming for us I relaxed my tensed nerves and sought to poke my head back up again. However...

 

BOOM!!

 

I recoiled my head from the top of the table as the explosion erupted from the area behind our metal shield. Inclining slightly as the fire poured from the center of the turmoil, my head was swimming with the images of body parts flinging about the room. I was beautifully sick as the sound crashed into my consciousness and the blood spilled about, splashing itself about the walls.... It felt so goood...

 

The burning fires of passionate war erupted through my black heart giving it new life, beating like never before. My eyes glazed with putrid glee as my mind reveled within the explosive inferno of my desire. The temperature of the flames echoed within my very body as tingling sensations were all I had to console with. I couldn't help myself as I began to let soft moaning noises escape my mouth...

 

I want more...

 

My mind seized and my body acted as if without my will, guiding my shots to their fullest effectiveness, and guiding my eye to where it was needed most. Within the haze I utilized their chaos by picking off all the remaining thugs except for a couple that ran for their misbegotten lives...

 

Soon... your blood will spill... And I will be there, you cowards...

 

I didn't even pause to look toward sol who seemingly tried to hide something as I vaulted over the table and ran through the bar toward the location of where I thought the communications room was. I figured it was there that we would find the rotting sack Haruun himself...

[Sol Kadav]

Sol followed Anilara to the next room, where he was sure they would find Harrun. As much as he wanted to get this over with, he knew that he wouldn't be able to resist lodging another M9 missile into the Twi'lek's cranium. The remains of both the bone, and brain matter splattered all over the wall, floor, and ceiling would be quite a sight for sore eyes. He could only hope that the alien was still alive; he wanted nothing more than to torture the good-for-nothing bastard, and end his life any way he wanted to. As he thought about it, he figured that Anilara would become suspicious, should he use his missile launcher again. He decided that it would be best if he kept it hidden from view; the last thing he needed right now was to be bombarded with the questions that he knew she would have, should she find out about what happened with him in the basement of the Black Sun Citadel.

 

He still had his blaster rifle gripped in his hands, and fired a series of several shots at the remaining, fleeing guards. Two of them went down, though the remaining three bolted into the communications room. It had been blown to hell, thanks to the explosion caused by the missile. He remembered Smash telling him that a single missile could take down a small freighter. He wasn't sure exactly how many missiles were stored in his arm, nor did he care. When he was out of them, he was out of them. It was as simple as that. He would ”˜restock' himself with them when they got back to the Citadel.

 

He stepped through the blown-out doorway and made his way over to one of the consoles, which had been partially destroyed in the explosion. Several bodies were strewn about the room; for a second, it looked like every single person in the room was dead. However, as he looked closely, he saw the slightest twitch coming from a Twi'lek, who was laying spread-eagle on the ground.

 

Harrun, no doubt.

 

The vile”¦ thing was reaching for its hold-out blaster, which was next to his outstretched hand. He had been seriously injured, though that didn't seem to bother him. He was obviously putting up a good fight, despite the fact that his arm and leg were both broken. The tips of his bright green fingers brushed the blaster, but before he could so much as move it, Sol's heavy boot came down on his hand. Being one of the strongest ”“ if not the strongest ”“ genetically enhanced being in the galaxy, along with the force at which he brought his foot down, he would be surprised if he didn't flatten the Twi'lek's hand. A loud snap was heard, followed by an agonizing shriek coming from Harrun.

 

”œYou”¦ you bastard!”

[Anilara Kadav]

The destruction was immense and thorough as I ran through the bar and throughout the rest of the complex into the communications room. My body was nothing but a surge of tingling sensations that pervaded my very skin as I gazed upon the bloody carnage before me. The sensations escalating with each new body, exponentially raising themselves without pause...

 

Sol and I had reached the communication room within minutes and I observed the destroyed consoles and terminals, my eyes surveyed the entire bounty the room had to offer. Each and every maimed limb and dead being upon the floor serving to fuel my mind's red madness. My thoughts were still there and my will still intact, but an apparition guiding force purged my mind of any inhibition toward macabre thoughts and gestures.

 

My hands rubbing gently and briefly at the curves of my form only to excite the sensations further, drawing my breath in and out as I gasped..

 

A modicum of force was applied to control my feelings or at least to subside them as to finish the mission, but it appeared a merciless benefactor shielded me from controlling my own blood lecherous body.

 

Sol's word's could temporarily be heard through my brain's haze, but did nothing to encourage control; nothing to shock me out of my trance.

 

”œWould you like to have the honor of killing him?”

[Sol Kadav]

Never before had Sol worked with somebody quite like Anilara. Never before had he met a woman who became sexually aroused in the midst of the death of another. She, like him, was an evil individual. Eviler, probably. Sure, he enjoyed murdering those who deserved to be murdered. He stared at her, watching her slim, curvy form soar through the air as she landed on the Twi'lek, plunging the knife into the side of his neck, and ultimately killing him. He stood back, watching her end the life of a once-powerful crime lord. What was odd, though, was what he was feeling shortly after Harrun died. He kept his eyes glued to Anilara, unable to deny the feelings that he suddenly had toward her.

 

A pool of blood was slowly forming around Harrun's head, turning the back of his once bright green head, to a sickly dark crimson color. His eyes were rolled up into the back of his head, and his mouth was opened in an ”˜O' of surprise.

 

Without taking his eyes off of her, he strapped his rifle back over his shoulders, and walked over to her. Without really realizing what he was doing, he extended his hand towards her to help her back up onto her feet.