emile fischer

Compile: No

​

- Traitor -

[Dromund Kaas: An 5 ATC / -3648 BBY]

It all starts with this simple word. 'Traitor'. The worst ever invented. It stays etched in your skin with hot iron, it burns your muscles and chars your organs, it devours your spirit, then it enters your genes and there, it's too late, it's over for all your descendants. She inherits it like an interminable plague, a hereditary scourge that insinuates itself into your children, and their children after them. Your name remains after your death… but you, you under the rubble of your hell, you only ask that the living forget you forever.

Tsss… it sounds like my father.

No. I will do it again. It all starts… with the cheers of the crowd.

It was raining as usual. A huge crowd had gathered in the square, welcoming the survivor of Gel Daorn with open arms. In the eyes of all, he was the 'venerable' Sae'liu, the one who had resisted the Republican torture to save his men.

In my ears, only that word buzzed, again and again. This single word...

The people had to believe it. The people needed a hero. Someone who can represent them, someone who can prove to all of them their worth in the Empire. Finally, a non-Sith had triumphed, and risen from the dead! An old man, moreover… But only a handful of men knew that before walking on the glorious red carpet that had been rolled out for him, the venerable my-ass had first trampled on a much bloodier carpet.

Hutt's son was protected by his middle-class wealth, and by the few balls he held in his hand. When he made his entrance somewhere, everyone licked his pumps… In any case, all those who didn't want their own wife to find out the address of their mistress. A mini mafia godfather in the Empire, just knowledgeable enough and discreet enough that the Sith never put a stop to his schemes.

He had saved nothing on this useless planet. My superior at the SSI had discovered it, the word had quickly spread among us, the trainees, but he had never been able to leave the room. My boss's balls were also soaked in the clumping molasses of this filth.

Here is the real story: Sae'liu had denounced them all. His whole team, intelligence on the spot, the soldiers, everyone on Gel Daorn had been taken in by this bastard… He had betrayed his colleagues without the slightest hesitation… and among them was Lev. I saw it in the photos of the reports. With his small size, he looked like a child, half-wrapped in his shroud in the morgue. Seeing him like that, so pale and without his cybernetic arm, it took me straight back to that day when he returned from the battlefield on Raxus. To think that his father will never know who really killed his son.

But it's not just for Lev that I'm doing this tonight. It's for all his comrades, it's for the Empire…and damn yeah it's for me!

Bypassing the cameras wasn't the easiest thing. Luckily we have Kwellin with us. The next step is to climb the wall of his large mansion. An easy job at night, no guards, no droids. Just an old man snoring in a fancy shack. Luckily, we thought of balaclavas… Old cut-out black tights, to tell the truth. Mine doesn't even have holes, I have to hide my eyes well and I can see through them. We all know what we risk. Even if technically it's rather patriotic, if you fail, it's a blow to be executed with your whole family. Suffice to say that since last month, I haven't much to lose… I'm doing it for you too, mother, in a way.

When I kick down the bedroom door, the vioc wakes up with a start. No matter how much he shouts, he knows very well that he is up to his neck in deep shit. Alone, in the middle of the night, at home, facing five guys. No. No chance.

So the friends and I let off steam. Like a wave crashing on a beach, our hearts pour out our rage on this innocent-looking monster. When I look at my comrades, I no longer know how to tell them apart. They all represent the same idea. A violent and just idea, an idea that hurts, an idea with a black face. Revenge.

After several minutes, my tired friends move away from the unfortunate. He's struggling to breathe, he's coughing up blood, he's crying silently, he's shaking and, from the smell, I guess he hasn't held his bladder. The gang is about to come out, they got what they wanted, he got what he deserved...

At this moment, I lean towards his bruised body, and he looks at me, straight in the eye. It's dark, I guess he perceives the gleam of my eyes, through the fabric. What does it really matter.

Calmly, I put my hand in my pocket, and pull out a knife. Its silvery blade reflects on the wet cheeks of the man the brightness of the night behind me. In a desperate act, he tries to snatch it from me, but I'm too fast for him. In a few seconds, and without much effort on my part, he is on his back. I raise my gun. I hear the gasp of my friends, I see the panic of my prey, I feel the anger of my heart, and I bring down my fury.

In a flash, the traitor's hands clasp firmly around mine, his breathing stops, the blade stops two centimeters from his chest. Our respective grunts struggle, our bodies tremble, but never, not for a moment, do our eyes move away. I can't get away from it…I have to…I need to see her.

Despite the old man's overflowing instinct for survival, the blade inevitably touches his chest, then sinks in, very gradually. I feel each layer it punctures, I hear the lungs wither, I see the pajamas blush. And above all… I look into his eyes.

I release the pressure, as Kwellin and the others stand there, dazed. They didn't expect this.

It's almost intimate. I lean towards the dying man, who is watching me attentively, and I take off my hood. He becomes aware of the 21-year-old chiss who just killed him. But whatever my face, it will take it to the grave. No… what matters are his eyes. What matters...is...

There you go!

She escapes from his eyes. That's always where the real show is! Like a swarm of fireflies, she is free, she leaves, leaving her eye cage empty, and the night finally becomes more peaceful.

- The Killing Question -

[Tython: An 10 ATC / -3643 BBY]

We then received... "the accused". I objected to using this name. Strong-headed as he was very stubborn, this man did not have to be treated like a prisoner. Court-martial, however, was mandatory. Serious omissions in his summary, as well as angry remarks and lies when discussing the rumors, soon made him a dangerous comrade for the Order. Not to mention the press and the senate... what would the Republic have said... what would the galaxy have said... knowing what we now know about this man?

When he entered the Council Chamber, a heavy silence spread like a disease among my colleagues. Everyone knew him well. All were disappointed. No words expressed it, only distant, cold looks. Again, they were strangers to him. I seemed to be the only one who remembered the feats he had performed for us.

Long before becoming a general, he had completed his padawan training in just 6 months. He had arrived on Tython aged 37. Very silent at first, he quickly insisted that he be made a peacekeeper. Despite his old age… his unfailing motivation, his ability to wield the Force, even crudely, as well as the fact that he came straight from Gel Daorn, had a significant influence on his inclusion. I remember this planet... I was present when, too late, we discovered its ruins.

As a Jedi Knight, he led many troops to victory. In less than a month, he had almost single-handedly freed Corellia. If it is not completely under imperial occupation today, it is thanks to its military strategy. May this poor planet one day be free.

But over the years, through the flames of war and guided by the absolute necessity of victory, the man hardened. He became and remains to this day the general whose troops have the highest death rate. On the other hand, these are dark days…

A few years later, he learned that his sister was still alive. Separated during the war on their home planet, their reunion warmed his heart of stone. She too became a Jedi Knight. Even today, it is the pride of its former masters, it seems. And to think that she will have her own padawan in a week… That doesn't make me any younger.

My thoughts wander as the general in question comes to the center of the room. His gaze is dark, but I see no hatred in him. I believe his thoughts are with his life choices. About what brought him to appear here this morning. I sympathize with him. In his situation, we would all be troubled by our sense of duty, our responsibilities, our desires. But for me, what should be corrected is the fact that he lied. That he hid this information from us. When entering our Order, there is no room for passion, there is only serenity, and he knows it. He can't change his past... but his past must not change him, once on the battlefield, once faced with a vital decision. It's far too dangerous for him. The dark side revels far too easily in these kinds of feelings.

My colleagues call his name, remind him of his "crimes", and ask him questions that are of no real interest. I feel him trapped, I feel him like a child carried away by the current of his mistakes.

We are not here to punish him. We are here to help him. To put him back on the right track, before it's too late...

I'm getting up. All look at me, all are silent. As a Jedi Grand Master, I never have to raise my voice to be heard. And finally, comes to me the only real question that seems relevant to me. A simple question, a question without trap, but from which he will not be able to turn away. An honest question, which requires an honest answer. An answer which, he knows, will determine his place in our Order:

“…Master Thumbornt… Do you still love your wife? »

- Confidential medical information -

[Audio-Descriptive Recording No. 9745 / Orultseg Apartments / An 10 ATC / -3643 BBY]

O: Vouualà! [Spiritually introduces his Patient with open arms]

P: ... I... Oh, can I go?... Well, as I told you, there are rumors about you up there. We talk about 'unconventional methods' and 'delusions extrava-... What is it?

O: [Makes a popping bubble sound from his lips, and directs his attention back to him, eyes wide open]

P: …Uhm, yes… Coming here I wondered if your professionalism as a psychiatrist was checked by at least some members of CRUST, or maybe… But what are you doing?... Hey! …Excuse me !…

O: No big deal! [bites a stone pestle]

…

P: Good. You know who i am ? You see who my father is, don't you? Does Grand Marshal Arnauld Wemphris Delbor speak to you? A gentleman, really high placed…?

O: Ooooooh… Climb? Or just very big?

P: Huh? Uhh… Okay, just know that I don't need to be here. I believe this was all a mistake. Here's what we'll do: I came all the way here with my uncle, he can attest that I tried, huh, then I'll go home, my dear father will say it's my fault, again once, but I'm not f-…

O: CRAZY! Yes, yes if you are! But it's not big deal. Me Ôssiii! Nioush… [gives himself a little pestle on the head, and laughs]

P: …Okay, I lose my -…

O: TIME! NOOOOO! Dad wants it to be ok, ouch, he... he's worried, him and his friend, the waves, the sand... and the clock, with mama who fell, huh? That's it?

P: …Wooh… Wait, what? …H-how do you know about…?

O: [gets up from his chair and walks slowly closer] It wasn't the gray anchor. It was the clock, with the thin black shadow. The weather was down. No…yes, and daddy knows you OHHhhhh!… [whispers] It's not good…

P: [Stay still, looks very disturbed, hugs his chair]

O: …Scream.

P: …Excuse me?

O: Sht. Nevermind. Calls out !

P: What I...?

O: Scream!

P: Uhm… Good… Aaaaaaaaaah…

O: SCREAMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!! [Waves his arms high in all directions like a windsock]

P: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

O: [Gives a light pestle on his Patient's head]

P: Ouch! [Rubs his head]

O: Find a chest!

P: Wh-…, I don't understand anything! …Look, let's go back, about my mom, you said w-…

O: Find it! Great! Lock yourself away. Break the lock. Roll, roll! Wiiiiiiiiiiii… If you're doing it, it's okay! Then you will know! Yes ? Yes. You will know ! Hmm?

P: …Is that your medical advice? That I lock myself in a trunk…?

O: Nobody disturbs if nobody enters. Nobody disturbs the weather. No that's not it. Time slips backwards if you're crazy enough to listen to it. Be crazy. Not stupid…

…

P: Yeah… I guess that must make sense to you Sith… I need to meditate, something like that, right?… Tss. It's funny…my dad sent me here to deal with my grief, but somehow, I think what y-…

O: [Takes a sudden breath] MAMAAAAAAN!!! WE NEVER EAT IN PINK!!

P: [Gets up] SHIT!...Damn...

- Fugue to the Stars -

[Tatooine: An 11 ATC / -3642 BBY]

" Why ? Hmm… Good question…”, the rattataki mused. His eyes dive for a moment into the emptiness of the dark room. For a few seconds, her mind leaves the room she has rented for the night, leaves the bed in which she is lying naked, leaves the lover who holds her delicately in his arms. A small smile forms on her black lips, and there she is again in her body. She sits up, readjusts the cushions, and places the one-eyed pirate's head on her shoulder:

“Make yourself comfortable… there… My turn to tell you about one of my adventures…

After Dathomir, the Empire took me in. I was a child, I was an alien, I was an orphan. So I was placed in some sort of orphanage on Dromund Kaas. I was only eleven years old, I spoke with a more pronounced accent than I do today, I didn't know anyone, and I had trouble fitting in in general. But I had nothing to lose either. During the first few months, I was very discreet, very shy… but before the end of the year, I was a rebel.

I stole food, I lied, I disobeyed the guards… Because yes, they were all women. Only the director was a man. All humans by the way. There were about twenty alien children, at most, but I was the scourge. The indomitable. The provocateur. Neither more nor less than a teenager in need of adventure, and tired of the stupid rules that were imposed on her for no reason. The poor women who guarded us and tried to educate us were exhausted. Mainly because of me.

And then one day, I decided to leave. To take a break. It was my birthday, I had turned fourteen, and the only present waiting for me was a punishment for my stupidity the day before: I had to help the personnel of a spaceport to unload cargo…”

“Your stupidity from the day before? asks the pirate, very curious. His beautiful companion smiled.

“Nothing really bad… I promise… Anyway, I was still moaning as usual, I had back pain, I was tired, carrying boxes all day… when finally I heard an argument. The head of the spaceport was there, and had summoned several soldiers. He was yelling at a crew captain, whose ship was parked in the general hangar. Apparently he had seen him picking pockets for workers and passers-by.

I approach to find out a little more when suddenly, one of the ships that we are unloading explodes! At the same time, the pickpocket captain and his crew take out the blasters. The shots go off, the guards take cover… but not the captain. Him, he covers his partners, who are stealing the cargo, and getting it on board their ship. Amazed, I stay put. They were the first pirates I saw!

But suddenly, one of the pirates, a Devaronian, takes me hostage. I struggle, the Imperials lower their weapons, I feel my heart beating so hard, but... as the captain threatens, the Devaronian tries to reassure me:

'Psst… Don't worry, we'll release you as soon as we get out of here. We will do you no harm. If you're good, we'll even leave you a little piece of the treasure, a little souvenir, huh… What do you say?' she whispers to me.

Very quickly I understand… I could have escaped easily. A few feats of strength and I was free… but instead, I let myself be taken on board like the hostage of the pirates. If I have a chance to leave this place, take a vacation, embark on an adventure… to be truly free… this is it!

The ship takes off under the gunfire. By some miracle, they leave the area. The pirates on board are crying victory, while the Devaronian is doing all she can to appear as kind and peaceful and reassuring as possible… but I'm not worried anymore. It even seems to surprise her.

I tell them about the orphanage, the punishment, the rules… and explain to them that I don't want to go back there… I even offer them my services as an apprentice pirate. They laugh, invite me for a drink (my very first), then we make introductions.

There's the captain, a dreadlocked pantoran named Chev Mong'o. The charismatic of the band. Always the look, the right words, the right plans...

Then Meeks, the Britarro cartographer and pilot. Always cracking good jokes...

Vee'rek scared me a little at first. A moogan specialist in blades… but in the end he was only a very sensitive who only protected his fragile heart with dark and suspicious looks…

Quite the opposite of Boro, the weequay. A hefty guy, he was twice my size. It was he who taught me to play dejarik. He was very smart in addition to being muscular…

The one I initially took for a zabrak was actually an elomin named Pahts. The captain's companion, and also an excellent singer...

But in the end, it was with Nephira, the Devaronian, that I had the most affinity. We would hang out for hours talking every night, before going to sleep…

We spent some memorable days together. I keep every moment in memory, in there, in my heart. One day, it was a party in their ship, another, we were visiting exotic planets… I even participated in a space collision! I was masked, but we had no idea who we were stealing from. Republicans? Imperials? I never knew. In any case, they had treasures… Well, for me it was huge! Today I realize that they were only doing little things. Poor little robbers who lived almost hand to mouth. But imagine… six adult pirates, and a trainee-pirate, admittedly fourteen years old, but who knows how to throw lightning!

They were so proud of me. I felt useful by their side, but above all, I felt free…

And one night, Nephira told me about something that still sticks in my mind to this day…

This family they had built together, as perfect as it was, was sorely lacking in something: a stable roof. A place where they could rest, feeling at home. And not a common ship so small that they had little privacy… Everywhere they went, they were hunted by both factions. The Empire, the Republic, nobody wanted them. They were spat in their face. And Hutt space wasn't really a stable thing, was it?

I sympathized…I missed my own family…and as weird as it may seem, the orphanage was starting too. I would have stayed with the crew, but I think deep down we knew where I belonged. And she wasn't with them, at least not yet. Not at my age.

At the end of the best two weeks of my life, they dropped me off at Kaas. There were a lot of tears (especially coming from Vee'rek), but it was our decision: First I finished what I started with the Empire. First schools, Korriban, Sith training, and one day, if the Force was willing, we would meet again. What better way to motivate yourself than with a reward?

But they never came back...

So… yes… To answer your question, that's why I want to start this place. For people like us, for people like them… For them. Bandits, pirates, bounty hunters, thugs of all kinds, simple travelers or big shippers, it doesn't matter. A place to sleep, to drink, to party… to rest and relax, in the midst of this war. A... How do you say that...? Anvaëre-… a haven of peace! »

The pirate, still engrossed in the witch's story, pouts impressed.

“Wow…” he said, before frowning. "Wait, I thought the Sith didn't believe in peace or something..."

“The Sith Code doesn't apply everywhere, dear. You have to know how to use it… Peace is not eternal, whereas… passion… can be…”, whispers the Sith, slowly approaching her lips to her future husband to kiss him tenderly. The man lets himself be carried away by the passion that invades him more and more every day since they met. When their lips part, one last question arises in the pirate's head:

"And…you got your share of the treasure, at least?" Your little memory promised by Nephira at the beginning...? »

The witch smiles even more, then tilts her head towards the foot of the bed. He follows her gaze. There, in the heap of clothes thrown into shambles, a large flat golden brooch, in the shape of a skull and with ruby eyes, scrutinizes the two lovers in silence.

- Respect -

[Sobrik, Balmorra: An 12 ATC / -3641 BBY]

I had never seen such a fanatic before. A caricature of a Sith soldier combined with a derision of… depraved mercenary. He made a spot in the decor of the command post. His muddy boots had made the floor all but impassable, his partially bandaged face and shoulders were still smeared with Republican blood, and while his legs were protected by some sort of black armor that was falling apart, this thing, this… vulgar thug was shirtless! In front of my office! …A real fiasco on legs.

…But a sexiest fiasco. I didn't realize it until later, when I was far enough away to dare look down at his ass.

He was a crimson zabrak, no older than thirty, tattooed from head to toe. I had never seen sith marks like this before. Those hooked shapes applied to his pectorals, those teeth that ran along his ribs… this phenomenon was really in good physical shape. And covered in scars. Grrrrr…

He was leaning on the holographic terminal. We had remained alone in the room for a good minute without a word, before I realized that it was he who had to report to me on Sundari's assault. When I approached him, he greeted me in zabraki with the most ridiculous pronunciation. Surely he had tried to learn a word or two of my language, just to look good? It was obvious, he did not speak it. Or did he speak her in a very ambiguous accent? I do not know...

In any case, he was giving me his report, a long harangue, a most messy presentation, when he stopped short, visibly annoyed:

" There is a problem ? ... »

Yes, and even more than one! I still couldn't believe it. But what crook had placed me in this position, supervising brainless brutes like him!?

When I asked him about his Sith status, his answer made my throat churn. I nearly choked. He wasn't even really Sith. A simple warrior, wielding the Force and brandishing our scarlet blades, without having passed the tests. A mercenary, disguised as a sith. It was definitely a prank. More idiots sending a non-Sith to deal with 'Illegitimate Sith Miss'! They were all laughing at me, once again!

I felt anger boiling up inside me. When was this all going to end!? I had more than enough! I had only one desire: to take out my blades and bring back the head of this ruffian to my co-workers. Placing it on their desk and...

And suddenly his gaze changed. From boredom, he passed to incomprehension. He had obviously noticed my anger, without really understanding it. It was then that her true age dawned on me. Although he was almost a head taller than me, in reality he was not much older than his twenties.

“Your attire is inappropriate, young man. I tell him, trying to keep my cool. "It's disrespectful. Your presentation is childish, and given your status and your age, I do not have to deal with you. Clear the floor for me before I make you lick it. »

"Lack of d-…?" Well I said hello to you… Pfff… And yeah, I didn't have time to change. You won't be better coming back from where I come from. »

The insolent! It wasn't the first time, far from it, that I had been treated like this. …But a kid!? I took out my teeth. It was too much !

I ordered him to apologize on his knees. He refused.

He would have died ten times with such an attitude in front of a Sith Lord. My fists were shaking and cracking under my gloves.

I was only going to give him one more chance.

" …Nope. »

So I pulled out all the stops. This woodlouse was going to polish my boots with his tongue. If not willingly, he was going to apologize by force. And when I was done with him, his horned head would end up nailed in the office of the general responsible for this affront! I felt the almighty heat of my wrath, it boiled over, it begged me to let it burst. Without containing myself a second longer, I used the Force. My arms clenched in the air made the mercenary tip over to the ground. I gave everything I had. His knee landed, but he got up immediately, outraged too. He sent a chair flying. A console exploded on contact. The lights flickered for a moment.

It was at this moment that he approached me like the wild animal that inhabited him. The young man of twenty looked thirty again. The mean, nerdy-looking character who had reported to me had given way to an angry beast, thirsty for my blood and hungry for my body. His eyes of embers pierced the darkness of the room as much as that of my soul. His veiny hand as big as my skull rose slowly towards my neck. When at last I felt the holoterminal against my heel, and the reek thought it had trapped the raventhorn, I leapt out of its reach and unsheathed my amber flame thorns.

I was going to fight against this ignominious rascal. I was going to defeat him and then stab him in the throat. Melt his Adam's apple and roast his cervicals. His employers should never have sent him to me. As I had promised myself, I was going to obtain justice and vengeance from the cowards who still dared to challenge my imperial legitimacy! After all these years… What more was I going to have to do so that one day, I could finally enjoy some semblance of respect!?

All I wanted was to be left alone.

I never imagined, not even for a single second, that I could lose this fight. To think that I then found myself making love to this man whose name I can't even remember.

- Cui-cui -

[Table #23, Cantina Le Nexu, Dromund Kaas: An 15 ATC / -3638 BBY (Shortly after the celebration on Alderaan)]

“Mh… But you know… M-… He's actually a lot less creepy than Xaash. She can literally blow someone's mind! Like that ! All it takes is for her to be in a bad mood, well more than usual, and then BOOM! Splat! yuck! remarked the younger twi'lek, who continued to feast on her cabbage-shu. Since the end of his first drink, the arm gestures that accompanied his words were a bit more violent.

“Yeah…she has her moments…but at least she's not two meters, 400 kilos and she's not horned…Oh, and she doesn't owe me a brand new droid. Nah but did you see what he did to B-6!? He's completely screwed by the way. There is nothing to do. These little bibis, that's not what it used to be…”, sighs the second twi'lek, who eagerly sips her 'little nexu'. Dank Farrik it was good! On the other hand, the comfort of the basic metal seats left something to be desired.

The trainee waiter named Mau finally arrives with the missing drink. Unfortunately for him, Vette admits that her eyes may have been a little bigger than her bladder. There were already three full glasses waiting their turn on the table. The poor man sadly returns to his bar, as his boss calls him in his cracked voice for the 124th time that evening.

"By the way…you who stay with that bunch of freaks all the time…has anything special happened lately?" asks Vette. "I mean, other than all that shit with the big tin can sith in the teeth there… Nah because… It didn't seem like the big shape between Xaash and Drax the other day on the ship. . »

The young rutian grimaces. Kinda she knew. And if Xaash still hadn't told Vette, it's because nothing was going to get better anytime soon. Times had been tough lately, with all the chaos in the galaxy…and especially with the death of Jahnelthra. All the complications and grudges between the Sith…she didn't want to talk nonsense…better leave that to the Sith. And then it was so morbid. But Vette cuts her off in her thoughts:

“You know, don't tell him, but I respect this woman enormously. I would consider her almost like a sister, or a mother… a mother-sister… Well, I'm exaggerating a little bit, but I love her very much. Even if it's not too reciprocal. I don't think many people really understand her. I felt her broken the last time, like never before… I didn't dare ask at the time, maybe I should have…”

" Oh yeah ? Wow… But… Wait, officially you're not his property or what? I thought you were his slave…”, Lizz wonders, confused.

“Hey no! Well, if I was a... It's a long story. »

" I've got plenty of time. says Lizz, crossing her arms between her head and her lekkus. Vette finishes his drink, starts the next one, and thinks where to start…

“It was 8 years ago I think… Damn it goes quickly… I was on Korriban. The Sith had me arrested for grave robbing. Yeah, gotta make a living. In short, these dogs had put an electric collar on me and shocked me at the slightest opportunity. I was in a cage, I ate nothing, I didn't even have to drink...

Until she arrives. A sith. A woman, pale as a rattataki's ass, full of tattoos and scars, wearing a long black outfit. Her face was razor sharp, her eyes murderous, her eyes filled with flames… Brrr… She was chilling, I swear.

I tried to look nice at first, you know… nice, nice, funny but not too much. And zap! She blew me away too. My job, if I wanted to get out of that cage in one piece, was to help him find an old rotten lightsaber in one of the tombs. But there was nothing to do. I opened it, zap. I was dragging too much, zap. I did everything she wanted and I closed it… baaah zap too so good!

Finally, a few long weeks later, this donkey who farts higher than her grandmother's ass has finished her training in the nuts. She's killed enough people, she's meaner than mean, it's good it's validated, stamped. Go on ! Head to the capital. And this filth, it takes me with it! That's when I realized I wasn't going to make it. That yes, for once, I was a slave.

So we arrive on Kaas, at the spaceport, I tell myself that I will end up in pieces, and that at best she will order me to do the dishes H 24...

…When all of a sudden I hear him butting heads with someone. We were just about to go out into the jungle, when someone “blocks his way”… Me, I roll my eyes when that happens. Nah but seriously, she couldn't, I don't know… bypass ONE person?

And then suddenly, I see the blade of a lightsaber coming out of his back. And yeah. My landlady falls to the ground, her face panicked, and dies, right there in front of me. »

“Wait, what!? Lizz interrupts, suddenly lost.

“Mh-mh… and yep… So I look up, still handcuffed and with my electric collar around my neck, and THERE I see Xaash for the first time. Heheh…”

“Ooooooooh…”, says the impressed young twi'lek softly. Nice turnaround...

“Well yeah, got you good, huh? However, apart from the skin color, they were really different. The other one had tattoos everywhere, ridiculous little scars, nah, it was far from being Xaash. Sorry ! Xaash… -TA. Because apparently she had just saved an important sith, and was going to a ceremony or whatever on Korriban.

Well, I grant you, she was even colder than today. But compared to the other bitch, it was quiet. Because she never electrocuted me, Xaash. She took off my collar, my handcuffs, and told me to get out. What I have done. No way am I going with him to Korriban to be captured again! I was free.

But a few days later, we meet again by chance. You know me, I'm a bit of a stickler and talkative. So I insisted several times, but I managed to buy him a drink, and I was able to arrange a mini job in his service, in his ship. But no longer as a slave. Drax shares his salary with you; I was paid by the Empire as a citizen. »

“Han… Eh bah. Beautiful story. admits Lizz, raising her glass. “I would pay dearly to see Xaash with a punch in the nose! she laughs.

“Oh no, nothing to do, she doesn’t touch alcohol…”

“Heh…Too bad for her…Nah but it's cool that you don't either…that…uh…that you're no longer a slave in any case! One more point for our species. she says, raising her glass, a strange smile on her lips.

Vette raises an eyebrow. She had heard right? Lizz had been a slave? She didn't seem to want to talk about it given her face… but slowly the two twi'leks were getting to know each other.

"In any case, I'm good at reading people's faces and minds... It took me a while to know how to approach her, she speaks very little, but I quickly understood that she was someone very withdrawn, who had suffered a lot… even someone very sensitive. And yeah, I see you laughing, but it's true! I've never been able to get much out of her… but she knows that I know. You should talk to her one day, alone… Get to know her. What I mean is that she can look really dark and dark and all that, but that's her sith side too, well I guess. But deep down, there's someone down there. Not like the other psycho whose name I never knew. Dark Pelote, I called him. Because she had funny pompoms on her outfit, it was frankly ridiculous… Anyway. But yeah yeah, I'm good at that. Besides, if you too have stuff to tell, stuff that's not easy… I'm here, big girl. Eh ? »

Vette stares into her colleague's. She shows him a look full of patience and compassion. But Lizz can't help but smile awkwardly. She fiddles with the string of bracelets that hide her wrists. As she is about to answer him, Vette gets up, even more awkwardly…

“Okay, I'm going to get the toilet. Worse afterwards, I'm going to give a kiss to this charming chhhharming waiter… And then we just have to go. It was very good. And it's Xaash who treats, don't forget, heheh! says the rutian, a little drunk, waving her credit wallet.

- Post Credit -

[Coruscant: An 15 ATC / -3638 BBY]

All is calm that night. Parents have put their children to bed, cantinas have closed, parties everywhere have come to an end. The capital has fallen asleep, and can finally have sweet dreams, without worrying about never waking up. The Ogre is dead, Shan and Saresh announced about two weeks ago. Coruscant, the galaxy, and everything in it... are safe. The time for monsters is over.

The last taxis fly over the penitentiary center of the city-planet, and go home, their eyes almost closed with fatigue. The hard balance sheet of life 'holo, work, sleep'. Lower down, in the underground passages, the relief has already taken place. The night owl guard posted in the corridors does its rounds under the long neon lights replacing the brightness of the four moons, and the inmates all snore from heckling all day… Almost all the inmates.

There, in the corner of his cell, the alpha prisoner of the complex, serial number B-T58, detained on the last level, bites his nails, peering at the large, partially glazed door. The soldiers camping in the blinding corridor are bored. They wonder what they are doing there. The only four words they've heard for days are 'À table la vipère', repeated constantly by the second in the kitchen who comes to deliver the meal to all the floors. Here it is. He only comes here once a day: at night, to tell the truth. Number B-T58 can eat his cold porridge, it's not his problem. Damn taxes, right? He advances towards the cell, opens the hatch installed on the door, and fires his replica.

All is calm that night.

That's why this little sound spreads so easily in the white hallways: 'Knock…' Someone dropped their coffee?

One of the guards, the only woman, starts his rounds. She goes to see, dead of boredom.

But she doesn't come back.

Suddenly the lights go out. The weak auxiliary neons take over. Another power outage. Awesome.

" Stay here. asks the second guard to the cook who is still holding his tray in his hands. How boring protocol is. But hey, they're all paid for it.

The soldier leaves his comrades in turn, walks a few meters, turns into the fork… and sees his colleague in armor in the middle of the passage. She holds her helmet under her arm, and seems to be staring at something on the ground.

"Well then, did you find another rat?" »

No answer. She does not move. The pile of armor remains frozen in place like a statue, straight as an i, head bowed. Her partner comes to join her, curious. There's nothing on the floor… Arriving at her level, he glances at her face. The soldier-statue is pale, a bead of sweat beading on her temple, her eyes fixed on the ground don't even blink.

So in turn, he feels a rapid pressure exerted on his neck in various places, then a shadow on his back goes away like a ghost. Here he is paralyzed too! Unable to turn his own eyes. What has happened ?...

He suddenly hears very slight whistles in the air. Further on a wall, the shadow of a fellow watchman pulls something from his arm and then falls to the ground. Another 'Knock' sounded.

Back to the cell, two other guards go to see what is happening. The cook steps back from the dark hallway gluttonous with soldiers. Step by step, he gets closer to the alpha cage. A shiver runs down his spine when he thinks he hears the sound of a blade splitting flesh, followed by the terrible gurgling of a man drowning in his blood. But nothing more. As for the other soldier, if he was dead, not a sound could prove it.

The cook tries to keep calm. It's his imagination, that's all. He's watched too much news about that Ogre. The clinking of cutlery on the tray he hasn't let go intensifies. The last four guards with him look at each other, then stare down the hallway. They look worried (under their helmets).

A big 'Bomp!', dry, makes them all jump. One of the men raises his wrist to his helmet:

" Reporting… ? »

No answer.

" Anybody… ? … Eh g-…”, he insists, without having time to finish his sentence. He blocks, stiff, and falls to the ground in front of his comrades, like the victim of a terrible illness. This discomfort is because of a tiny dart stuck in his buttocks. He is dead.

The cook utters a dazed cry. The last three point their guns everywhere in the darkness. Still no noise around them...

Finally, the plasma flies in the dark. He roars, lights the walls red, then paints them red. The soldiers retaliate blindly, but the one on the left takes a shot in the middle of the helmet. His visor creaks, melts, and his body hits the wall banner of his dear sleeping homeland, before sliding towards the cold slabs of the floor, spilling his blood on the blue flag.

The young cook, clinging to his tray as to his life, keeps retreating towards the cell. When the soldier on his right, who is shooting like crazy in all directions, also backs up towards a wall, two massive arms come out of the darkness behind his back, and crack his neck. The… the walls have arms!? The walls are attacking them!?

" Nope ! Nope ! Nooo-…”, yells the last one, which is not even visible anymore. He left in a tibanna haze that now disperses across the dark room. Her cries end with a final “Bomp!” », followed by a massive and mechanical sound.

This 'Bomp' is perfectly synchronized with the poor cook's back, which hits the door of the cell. Trapped. He won't go any further.

Silence falls.

But it is short-lived.

A firm and lively hand then seizes the hair of the poor survivor. The tray finally falls with a crash. That's it, it's his turn, the walls will devour him. They tear off his scalp, his eyes stream with pain.

“AAAAaaah!... Nn-nnno… No! P-please!…”

The hand behind him squeezes his short white hair tighter. He can feel the broken nails scratching his skull, the bones cracking with force and anger, the beastly breath chilling his neck...

"At the table... the slug!" growls the voice behind him.

'Oh no… it's not the wall… It's her… it's the viper! She grabbed me from the food hatch, the sal-…', he finally understands, but too late.

A last shot of plasma from the mist ends his life, and spreads his brains against the door. Warm, thick blood flows from the hatch. The prisoner narrowly moved away. She lifts her hands to her silver hair, which is full of knots, dirt and blood, and tries to make herself look presentable. Then she comes to stand in the middle of her cell, the doors of which start to creak. The mouth of metal and reinforced glass finally opens, letting in the deadly mist.

“You took a long time…”, said the Admiral.