Kar Vastor
Where?
When?
Who?
The Force is indeed my ally, but the quasi sentient over mind of the galaxy has yet to learn the difference between helping and halping…
Unlike a certain nameless uncle of mine, I didn't get the power to break shit in half by looking at magic fault lines. No, I was "blessed" with what I hoped were random ass vision sequences that liked popping up like zits on a horny teenager's face. And just like said pustules, I never knew when exactly they would show up or the amount of nasty shit they'll explode into.
Like all the dead bodies strewn across the floor before me. Poor fuckers never had a chance.
The pall of the Dark Side roared in the background. In the Force I sensed a very painful and violent death inbound. Yes, I would wake up "just fine," but the emotional and psychological pain were quite real. So real in fact my new family went all the way to Jedha to get me some help for these "random vision terrors."
The other two alternatives to that optimistic prognosis, Godlike Force Beings or some Sith playing with my mind did not bear thinking about.
At least with this current little dream-prophecy adventure I knew from the start that it was my possible future. The sense of self I felt shook loose a small amount of info and it streamed into my noggin. The beads hanging from a dread over my right shoulder all but screamed Jedi Padawan and I could roughly feel the skills I've learned flow around the front of my consciousness. I scanned the architecture and the cool browns and airy passageways screamed Phantom Menace Naboo.
The HUD display in my tech lenses didn't hurt either.
"Fuck, that's some sick shit, even for you. I need a moment to process this."
It has often been said that a fair face can hide a foul heart. Staring at Aurra Sing, one instantly knew that adage to be more than true. The once padawan turned Dark Jedi mercenary/marauder wore her typical carmine-orange jumpsuit under brown vest. The low cut, false spandex accentuated Sing's rather generous figure and displayed more skin than was strictly necessary. Of course, the variety of weapons strapped to her body brought my attention promptly back to "Jedi business."
"Take all the time you need to prepare to join your precious Force padawan, provided you need less than seven seconds that is."
The hawk like green eyes that met my brown orbs were not those of a Sith, but they were no less hate filled. Reflexively I took a step back when the Palliduvan chose to grace me with a totally inappropriate smile. A second later the woman in her early twenties ran a far too long tongue seductively across a set of far too sharp teeth constrained by far too full lips.
Damn tween hormones! This was not the time for puberty!
"You won't be getting away this time Kar," she purred at me in much the same way a starving nexu did before pouncing on prey. Translation this thot was stalking me for years, but I have people watching my back.
Did that mean my ghosh survived too?
The horrific moment stretched out for ages, yet the micro-computers in my contacts; and my connection to The Force told me only six seconds had passed. The air was suffocating, and not only because of the scent of burning flesh and ozone. I can't quite explain the feel of the Dark Side, I my throat recognized the licorice haze of hatred, vivid jalapeno of bloodlust and the cloying greasy aftertaste of smug satisfaction from ending the lives of sentient beings. Yes, Sing was twisted but something was off, The Force was trying to tell me something about the victims.
"Yes, I know your Palliduvan senses are dying to taste me, but I thought it was Anzati who obsessed with the whole draining bodily fluids bit. And aren't you robbing the cradle?" My voice dripped sarcasm while trying to draw things out, and possibly rattle her a bit. Palliduvans did have a reputation for drinking blood, but it wasn't obligatory.
Two lightsabers, one yellow the other green, ignited in either of her hands. Both were taken from Jedi corpses.
"Hahaha! Such a funny padawan! Well, I can admit to being a nashtah (space cougar) and you're grown enough." The blood lust vibrated in the Force through her voice. My back foot entered a fighting stance, and I honestly hoped it was only bloodlust. I dared to investigate the dead once again with a deeper glance.
The answer was obvious.
The sheer look of horror etched onto the faces of the Naboo security agents did not help me keep my brunch in my stomach. I could see their eyes were full of broken veins. Yes, they had been cut by a lightsaber, but they were dead prior to getting chopped up. Shit! Me and my big mouth. The contacts confirmed those were signs of brain fluid removal. We had kriffing, snot vampire Anzati on Naboo. Did I mention all Anzati were Force attuned, and the ones who went brain hunting almost all studied kriffing Force Ninjitsu?
"Fuck! We have a thirsty Dark Sider and Anzati Assassins!" I moaned, feeling despair creeping upon me.
No, that feeling was more than just my worry rebounding in The Force. There truly was doom walking toward me and everyone I remotely liked on this kriffing planet.
"Aren't we the clever one?"
It was the voice of Sam Whitwer. The voice's owner was some twenty feet away from the grey murder thot.
The man spoke with a husky, arrogant tone I had hoped Qui-Gon and Kenobi would be dealing with. His presence erupted like a fist sized pustule in the center of your forehead the five minutes before your Senior Prom date arrived. The shadows moved and a cloaked figure took seven steps into the light, casually tossing aside his black robes. Unmistakable in profile, the Zebrak strode as though he owned the planet. His black gloved right hand made the iconic stretch displaying a weapon modelled after that of the late, unlamented Exar Kun. My research could not prove it was responsible for the death of Jedi Master Siolo Ur Manka, but when the twin blades of crimson ignited, I did not care.
An extragalactic language was spoken in response to this Sith show. The haggard litany drifted across the hall.
Emotion, yet peace
Ignorance, yet knowledge
Passion, yet serenity
Chaos, yet harmony
Death, yet the Force
I wasn't aware I had been speaking out loud in a language that did not officially exist in this universe (English) until the end. Maul and his plus one were kind enough to allow me to calm my ragged breaths. In another moment I fortified my mindscape and retrieved the flame-colored cylinder from my belt without thinking. My saber twisted forty degrees to the right in my left hand without my direction. I could try to play mind games with Sing, but Maul could outright end me in less than a second's distraction. The Force translated my desire for my weapon to expand its hilt another four inches. My right hand moved to accept it in a motion practiced hundreds of times prior to today. Another flex of my mind triggered the internal stud and a beam of light green ignited.
"Master, I have eyes on Maul." Unfortunately, the Force would not tell who said possible master was.
Future me's memory informed me that long ago I created a relay that allowed me to tap my communicator with a twitch of my ear or other muscles. It was 7945 CR (32 BBY) There was absolutely no reason I should have to move my hands, hands I could need to defend my life at any moment, to talk to someone. In truth I had been broadcasting both visual and audio data the minute I sensed something wrong, but they did not need to know.
"I have never told any who still live my chosen name. It seems my Master was correct; you are a potent seer. And my full title is Darth Maul. Though you robbed me of Eldra Kaitiss I hope you provide superior sport."
His tone implied my death was little more than a game.
"Which means you will have to kill my lovely stalker next. The Dark Lords of the Sith don't usually allow witnesses, no?" I deadpanned as I took another step backwards. Let these two Dark Side fools murder blend each other while I exit stage right an all.
A few Force dashes and a flash grenade might let me live long enough to find help.
Try as I might the sight before me made my bowels quiver. If anyone tells you that that almost six feet of black and red Danthomiri Zebrak doesn't intimidate you, they are either insane, lying or Mace motherfucking Windu.
"Ha! A fair attempt, but it will not avail you." The look in his eye told me Maul was about to attack.
"Nice try nerf, but we have an agreement. I'll even forgive you for not warning your master about me. Or Sint and Nakia for two reasons. The first is you will soon be dead. The other is I've already jammed your pretty little communication network." Sing tapped the Sennex Cartel provided antenna sprouting from her forehead.
I was not letting these two decide the pace or the course of battle. Three plans warred in my head, and I chose the one least likely to leave me too wounded to escape. Reaching out through the Force I grabbed the blaster carbine lodged in a dead guard's belt holster. As I recognized the standardized TR-G9 from months of training, it was not very difficult to set it to overload.
"So, I'll try something else," I deadpanned.
Then I simultaneously drew a T-234 holdout blaster from behind a tear away patch under my robes with my right hand and did a sudden backflip. Next, I fired three low powered shots at Darth spikes. I aimed at the handle of his double-bladed saber staff with bolts powerful enough to barely raise welts. After all I only needed to make it harder for him to win against one of the "proper jedi," not actually take either of them down. It was an old Mandalorian trick to make lethal re-deflections trickier.
Predictably, Maul was not hit by any of my attacks. He allowed the first to harmlessly impact the durasteel rod.
"Is that truly the best you can do?" he growled lazily.
Darth spike's arm became a blur of motion. Out of sheer annoyance Maul bounced one bolt toward the ceiling and the last came directly toward where my left eye would be at the completion of my flip. I took that opportunity to deflect the bolt directly at Maul's cock. That was when the carbine exploded. The body was behind them, and closer to Sing than Maul. I was gambling that the threat shadow would be small enough to get some edge damage on either of them. And of course, Maul was not going to warn her.
"Not working on me either little snack," said the grey woman arrogantly.
Both flipped in the air to avoid the exploding power pack, which had a blast radius comparable to a standard frag grenade. Of course, when there is a grenade level explosion human bone and debris can be as effective as metal spikes.
And a few of said shards found their way into Aurra Sing's behind.
"Kriff!" she growled, before I sent the bolt maul redirected to me directly into Sing's left nipple.
"Nigarundayo!" I yelled as I exercised the better part of valor.
I turned away from them both and detonated a flash grenade behind me. The contact lenses filtered whatever light reflected off the wall as I zig-zag sprinted for dear life. I also drained the charge of my blaster on "hope I hit you" stun shots over my shoulder. The not yet born Ezra Bridger proved that stun bolts can be deflected by lightsaber, but not reflected thank you very much. The sounds of Maul intercepting them, Sing's very loud invectives and the occasional lethal shot she sent zooming over my head let me know this was far from over.
