Chapter XII - Insurrection
(part I)

"Ah yes! It’s the kind of set up any good writer would kill to produce!
The dashing hero, fighting the evil Lord Jenner over the safety and vindication of his beloved.
Perhaps then this time…the bad guy can win."

VC Deception - Insurrection

(SPECIAL NOTE – Due to AOTC revealing Obi has another lightsaber, all references to “Obi Wan’s Second Lightsaber” refer to the one used in SW: A New Hope.)


   So…it had all come down to this one moment. The months of waiting, the tiresome efforts to place clues meticulously into action. The death of targeted individuals, the final piece of the puzzle now having been slipped into place…

It all came down to one solitary event….


Everything that Cire had carefully placed in his sick game, under his ghostly mother’s advice had taken its toll on the legend known as Valaryc Versai. It was the ultimate form of vengeance that any villain would crave to inflict upon his adversary. Indeed it tasted sweet upon his lips. Each trembling expression upon his hated rival’s face said all that needed to be spoken.

Cire had won…he had finally tasted his victory by humbling Val to his knees before him. Not so much was this true to his personal triumph but the sum of his deeds.

Each played a role in his plans you see…

There, divided before his feet, down deep into the depths of the lower deck below his throne, The man known as “Quillion” gazed with great joy upon his work. To the left was Val, shell-shocked staring in utter mistrust towards his rival’s presence, not to mention her current state of mind. She was everything he wished for…her body was absolute perfection, blessed by the force for purposes of dark seduction and stunning beauty.

Gen Zeridian was a woman…and it was well known that the best known assassins in the world were not egotistical men, not predicable arrogant, pride filled males…but the instrument of arousal only a female can provide. Perhaps it was the Force’s funny irony on life that a man truly cannot feel complete without his woman beside him. Was this true of the happy little couple to be? Of Val and his fiancée Gen?

No…not in this time, not in this moment.

In this reality, in this sick recreation of Val’s past life…Gen Zeridian was not at his side, she was opposed to everything they had shared. Val’s emotional trauma severely affected his control over the force, leaving him to fend off his assassin with little effort to actually harm her.

Val fended off Gen’s consistent kicks and punches…each throw was taking its toll on his body and yet each time he stood to strike back, Gen’s hypnotic stare reduced his fire to a smoldering line of smoke. Val had the potential to send Gen back to her grave…back to her past. The main reason Val did not do so was that deep down under the pain and shock, he didn’t want to let her go.

There then came the choice Cire had forced him to make.

Send her back to her grave, or perish under her hand…a feat that could never be accomplished by skilled fighter, or bounty hunter, or assassin…it seemed even The Force prevented Cire from committing the deed…yet faced with a conflict between his love for his attacker, and his will to live it kept Val in a constant state of confusion.

Women were the basis for the ultimate assassin and Cire knew this well the moment he had discovered the true value of the combined secrets given to him by his apprentice Lord Jenner. The Mole had carried out his orders to a tee with a hatred that shared a kindled bond with his master. Jenner hated Val for slaying his mother. To him his new “leaf” was nothing more then a smokescreen to pay for crimes Val had committed in his past life.

Of course that was debatable since running around and knocking off innocent members of the Versai Tech board was no better. Val to his very core was two personas. There was the noble life he lead today, strong and honorable…the savior of life, the giver of it. As it was revealed though with his one man war waged upon the members of The Killian and Cire’s flawed drones, Val also possessed the potential to conquer armies and gain great power through bloodshed and brutal force.

Valaryc Winters Versai had chosen the harder path, to remain focused and true to his family and his creed. The Valaryc Winters in the darker ages chose only to follow what he knew and protect what was his at all costs, back then twenty-five years ago, Val protected his prized possession Gen Zeridian with an iron fist. He crushed anyone who would dare oppose him, from Jedi to Bounty Hunters…faces were of no concern to him, nor were lives.

In the dark ages, Val’s eyes flared with orbs of blood red, his hair would flow in an invisible wind and his muscles would tense like a caged animal, dipping into the full anger and hatred of the dark side, empowering him at the cost of his moral soul.

Cire had planned to revive the demon within Val once more. He had successfully managed to do so when he sent his men in to capture what he had known could not be caught by force. One by one, screams filled the halls as Val reverted to his darker persona, moving through severed torsos and limbs with one goal in mind…to destroy Quillion for slaying his sister.

Revealed however much to Val’s relief, Sara was not dead just yet…she merely slept in a cold block of metal, her tomb keeping her both buried alive and yet stable inside the cocoon of carbonite that shielded her from view and escape…

What hope Val had of re-establishing his relationship with his sister was easily overshadowed by the evil guise of Gen Zeridian now on the hunt against him. Cire had indeed taken his game to the concluding level.

Physical, Mental…Val’s ironclad will was strong enough to survive them both, through the lines of blood that streamed from his wounds as the chair sliced into him, to the pulsating charge of electricity that set his nerves ablaze with excruciating pain right down to the muscle flexing stimulants that filled his body with aching lactic acid…

It wasn’t enough to break him…Val resisted it all, much to Cire’s delight however with some advice from his mother, Val had reached the final stage in Cire’s plans.


Using his own love against him, Cire had finally managed to do what others could not. Sure he had defeated Val in battle, a feat none could claim but more so he had managed to shatter Val’s will now, reducing him to a quivering little child, afraid to lose his own mother.

Gen was so much more then a mother though, To Val Gen was the cornerstone in his life. Losing her changed him forever into the man he is today. Cire delighted in the fact that with Gen Zeridian as his wife, he had not only taken what belonged to Val, but he had changed places with him now. In this future he crafted to scrupulous detail, it was now Val who was the third rate student, fighting to survive against impossible odds and it was Gen’s voluptuous body that embraced Cire, her purple hair fell upon HIS shoulders in comfort.

He was Val’s shadow…everything Val could have been if he had not remained so noble to his cause. Val was strong…Cire had grown stronger.

Then there was the other side of the spectrum. Val stared in shock into the eyes of his beloved, he knew she was not the women he had fallen in love with, he knew she was somehow under Cire’s mental control or that there had to be some other reason for her turning against him. Amnesia perhaps or a hidden slave collar like on Corrie?

Something was causing this insurrection against him. This hatred stemming from Gen was too deep, too powerful to come under her own will. Even at her most angered state, Gen displayed a fraction of control, each movement she made in her lightsaber fights were graceful and fluidic, not calculated and swift as this version of Gen was displaying…

Every gesture made by his assailant baring his lover’s face was swift and effective. Val barely managed to leap across the floor and fling himself out of the direction of Gen’s sizzling purple blade, each time it would come close to him he had just enough will to remain in one piece. It was a mixture of love and finding that way to resurrect Gen’s TRUE self that kept Val on the defensive. Even with Gen’s seductive eyes melting away his resistance and in most cases his occasional subduing offense, he didn’t want to hurt her…his plan was to at best, knock her unconscious and go after Cire…

Make Cire tell him what he did, how he did it and how to break the spell of bitter hatred that enveloped Gen’s every stinging word. Unknown to Val however, but well known to Cire was that there truly was no spell to break; there was no mind control or shock bracelet.

Gen was acting upon her own will, she truly DID love Cire enough to strike down Val, she did want to end Val’s life to carry out her new lover’s bidding. Why would she do this? Why would she ever love a man like Cire?

The answer has already been given…Gen was indeed acting upon her own will, but if the adaptation of Gen Zeridian that Val had fallen in love with was long dead and buried…

Who was this version of Gen Zeridian?

Meanwhile on the other side of the table, far way in the darkened hallways of Versai Tech, the search for Jenner has continued with little progress. His second victim Mitch was discovered in the basement, along with the shattered metal of what was at one time an elevator, now reduced to sparking, shredded bits of debris. Acquired from the wreckage was the little slip of fireproof paper stained in Mitch’s blood that Jenner had made sure Mitch would deliver to Lance Jade, though not alive as Mitch had hoped.

Mitch was victim #2. The death toll was beginning to take shape as Jenner carried out his master’s wishes. Undetected until it was too late, all Lance and his monitoring security advisor Michael Angilis could do was watch and wait. Lance spent a majority of his time watching over Tula An as she recovered from Jenner’s brutal lighting induced injuries, moving about trying to regain her balance and her life.

The mystery was just unfolding for Lance, the prominent and determined Vice President of Versai Tech. No longer did he have to wonder who The Mole was or what his intentions were, what kind of man he would have to face…he knew his name was Dathan Hawkyns, unknown to him, the name “Jenner” did not yet come into play as would other circumstances further complicate his vindictive quest. Lance didn’t know why exactly he targeted certain individuals, but the pattern was starting to take shape, what was known as clear was that Dathan was a blood thirsty killer.

Jenner however knew everything well in hand, his next victim also knew of his plot. The pattern of receding numbers was all too clear to one of the smarter members of the Board. In his own quarters he armed himself with a blaster and some protective armor. He watched in eager anticipation and had spent his time not running or hiding, not trying to blackmail or escape. The third member had his own agenda in mind, he wouldn’t go down easy like the rest…It was a matter of both survival and honor really, he could alert Lance and Michael of his theories but he already knew that time was out…. with Gabriel and Mitch dead, he was next.

No longer was there much more mystery to solve. The faceless assailants were now unmasked, their deeds were for the most part clear in their respective territories. However as much as had been revealed in Revelation, it would be the villains now who would learn that all they had foreseen and all they had possessed would not be above change.

If Death was the product of change, as Jenner so eloquently put it to his terrified members of the Versai Tech board, then no longer was there the drama and slow pace that wrapped its tendrils around Lance, Val, Cire, Jenner, Maligna, Marc, Michael, Corrie, Tula, and the rest, the winds of change were fast approaching.

Val knew the truth…Lance knew The Mole’s identity…

Cire played his wild card…Gen Zeridian was reborn…

The Curse was revealed…even beyond death, Vachon aided in the war between the T’Negun’s and the Versai.

The final stages were set…the opponents chosen.

For the last couple months it was the forces of evil that controlled the destiny of the forces of good. Every move, every devastating deed was evoked by the wicked, the dark, the sadistic…

Now however was the time for good to take its stand, to take up its weapons and fight the future that loomed ever so closer to it. Darkness had covered the land and obscured hope that stood inside its opaque curtain. Now was the time to fight!

The time for the forces of the strong, the noble, the honorable…the cherished to defy their destiny and rise up against the controlling forces of evil.

Now was the time to rebel…to resist.

With the odds stacked against them Lance Jade, Val Versai, Marc, Michael, Maligna all had to gather as one triumphant voice and cry out to the forces of darkness “YOU WILL NOT WIN” with a battle cry stemmed from Val’s service in the Rebel Alliance he and his united members of the light side of the force stood as one beacon of shimmering radiance, that threatened to shear clear through the blanket of night….


It was now time to fight, and don their armor of strength and stubborn determination, take their stand against the authority of Cire, Jenner, The Killian, and Vachon.

Subconsciously both forces stand lined up against one another in the final showdown. The powers of good on the right hand side of the force, while the armies of darkness stand on the left…

Both rushing towards one another, in a flash of dazzling light and a crackle of energy weapons…

The insurrection had begun…

VC Deception – Chapter XII - Insurrection


Lance sat in his chair with a heavy heart and a anxious will. It was only months ago that he had seen his good friend Valaryc Versai, reliving old stories of the past, viewing the rather humorous and yet fitting end to Ulic of the Krath and other peaceful endeavors. His deep blue eyes glanced down upon his uniform which for the most part matched the other staff that inhabited VT, for save a unique symbol that exemplified his seniority as Vice President in the corporation under his command…the gold pin stripping and cross bars along his shoulders. Val had given him one final order before his disappearance, find The Mole and destroy him. Lance’s fingers tapped over the keys of a computer keyboard as he glanced to a illuminated display before him, researching all he knew on his new adversary, from his combat styles to his weapons…Dathan Hawkyns.

Lance consistently asked himself, why he didn’t catch on to Dathan’s treachery sooner…why he couldn’t have been just a little more fast enough to prevent the injuries to Tula An, an innocent and dedicated worker trapped in the crossfire of betrayal and deception. As Lance tapped in a few more commands into his computer, his eyes lit up slightly, widening as he referenced files on Val’s lost and now revealed sister, Isis Surul.

From the moment Lance laid eyes on Isis when she lay unconscious and vulnerable from the encounter at Tibannopolis, he had a silent interest kindle within him. Though at the time he denied his hidden attractions to Isis at the time, seeing that Val had a far closer relationship then he did, before he discovered she was his sister and not a potential romance interest, Lance had fallen in love with just her beauty and her innocence alone and at first glance.

Lance’s fingers dangled over a mouse to his left, as he drew up a full body medical scan of her body. Sure it might have been a little adolescent but when you are the Vice President, you do have certain privileges at your command and for the moment, he was awaiting further information from Michael Angilis on the progress of the hunt for Jenner. All he could do for the moment was wait, and listen for his comlink to spark to life and re-ignite his passion to find Jenner and end his reign of terror.

Returning to the scan, Lance had the ability to view a 360-degree turn around of Isis’s attractive figure, from her breasts, backside, and legs he could see more then he could see if she stood before her. An innocent smile played upon his lips as he allowed his eyes to drink in her curvaceous figure. Though a male’s attraction usually relied upon some sexual portion of a female’s body, for Lance it was just as much her eyes as it was her personality.

Isis’s eyes washed his senses in awe. Her dazzling emerald orbs seemed to draw him his gaze each time he was in her presence. Lance didn’t quite understand exactly why he felt so attracted to her specifically. Was it because she was so mysterious and innocent? Was it his sensitivity to her troubled upbringing under The Killian’s skewed views? Was it the pain she suffered? What he did know for sure was her innocence was like her beauty, only skin deep.

Inside Isis’s glamorous body, pumped the heart of a fighter and a skilled one at that. Lance had heard Val explain countless times to him how Isis fended off two Killian warriors by herself, with her lightsaber ablaze displaying extraordinary force abilities. Lance admired a woman who could fight, a woman who could stand side by side with him and defend herself and he to the death in a splendid display of affection and dedication.

Tipping back in his chair a bit, drawing out a long breath, Lance’s eyes closed for a moment picturing his own world where he might court Isis to be his own. He wanted her, he didn’t quite understand the strong pull towards her but with Val informing her of her demise, Lance refused to believe the reality that presented itself and cling to the hope that one day soon he might gaze upon Isis’s dazzling green eyes once more and reveal his feelings for her openly, accepted or not.

At least he would know where his chances stood…

Tapping in a few keystrokes, Isis’s medical scan cleared the screen to draw up a sketchy dossier on Dathan Hawkyns. The file read the following:



Sith Lightning, Hyper Speed, Accelerate Healing, Electronic Manipulation, Intimidation, “Jedi” Mind Trick, Telekinesis, Telepathy, Lightsaber Proficiency, Force Leap


Killian Issue Dagger, Crimson Bladed Lightsaber, VT DL-30 blaster

Lance’s mind wandered on his strategy, trying to think as Dathan would…whom his next target might be, pondering the battle he knows will come soon. Scrolling down a few menu bars, and adjusting some more settings Lance brought up possible scenarios for the computer to figure out, imputing in the data on Mitch and Gabriel’s deaths and the significance of the numbers cycling down.

As the computer’s hard drive began to click, the screen bringing up one of those annoying “waiting” bars in turn, suddenly there was a buzz at his door. Lance shifted his gaze towards the entrance and whispered a command to open it, as a uniformed informant paced in, with his own flat screened device in one hand, nodding his greeting to Lance, saluting with his other free hand with pride and respect.

LANCE – (glancing towards the informant) You have news I presume?

INFORMANT – (nods) Yes Vice President Jade, I have some business that needs your attention. As you are aware the CEO has been missing for a month or so now.

LANCE – I am aware…I trust Val to handle whatever problems he might encounter. You’ll learn quickly that he has his own way of dealing with his obstacles and a rather unique way of…problem solving.

The informant swallows a moment, remembering prior to his acceptance into VT, Val’s record of “problem solving” usually translated to a body count doubled by two…often it was Val’s own trademark it appeared to leave his problems solved…in two halves.

LANCE – (gestures to a chair) Please, sit…

The informant nods in compliance, nervously sitting into a lush, executive chair across from Lance, setting his flat screened computing device on the table, where Lance can read its luminous display.

LANCE – (glances to the screen, then the informant) What is your name?

INFORMANT – Ray sir…

LANCE – (arches back in his chair) I like to know my staff on a more personal level then just another drone around here.

RAY – Drone sir?

LANCE – (points to Ray’s uniform) It seems that aside from myself, you all look alike. Don’t call me “sir” Ray; right now rank is the least of my concerns at the moment. Tell me what you need to say and we’ll go from there…there is no need to be nervous; you’re not on a interview here.

Ray adjusts himself a little bit more comfortable in his chair and then draws in a deep breath, knowing that the news his superiors have forced him to give to Lance will not be pleasant. Flexing his fingers on the armrests of the chair, his eyes shift from nervousness, to complete focus as they gaze upon the VT Vice President.

RAY – Lance, I’m not going to put this lightly…but certain protocols essential to Versai Tech’s survival in this galaxy require me to inform you of recent developments and changes that the Versai Tech Council has issued me to bring you up to speed, namely on the status of your position.

LANCE – (raises a brow) I see…continue. Is this about “The Mole” incident? I assure you every measure in my power is being taken to recitf….

Before Lance and continue, Ray gently cuts him off with a gesture of his finger, nodding in approval to Lance’s rebuttal to news he hasn’t even heard yet.

RAY – It’s ok Lance, I’m not here to tell you your job is in jeopardy…You are however on the right track as to what I do have to tell you in person, and why I’ve brought this data storing device on the table here.

Lance glances down towards the illuminated screen on his desk, starting to gather the bigger picture reading a few lines of legal jargon, skimming down to where three words stand out..


Ray nods to Lance then continues with his briefing.

LANCE – This doesn’t mean what I think it does, does it?

RAY – I know you’re close to Val, Lance but you have to set personal feelings aside and remember this is business.

LANCE – You can’t possible expect me to go along with this!

RAY – Please, before you reject their wishes…hear me out.

Lance takes a deep breath, then crosses his arms along his chest, closing his eyes a moment then slowly opening them evoking a thought cleansing technique taught to him by Val, whom in turn learned it from Gen. A rather effective technique to escape the conflicts of reality and what the eyes see, to picture a more expansive moment, where nothing is left but the self and the will of one’s self. By doing so and clearing the mind of complications, peace and tranquilly is maintained and thus focus can be achieved in a controlled manner.

RAY – (draws in a deep breath) Vice President Jade, it is with great regret we inform you that according to our monitors President Versai’s vital signs have been flat-lined for the last 4 hours…we assume the worst.

LANCE – (flashes his eyes in response) Assume nothing, I assure you Valaryc Versai is very much alive. If I know Val he’s hurting bad about now. It’s not like him to remain silent this long.

RAY – I understand your concern and I agree with you, there are a variety of reasons why his vitals would fail. From a signal jam to being unconscious we’ve taken this into account, but the order of command must remain in tact.

Lance’s eyes drop down to the floor, as he clears his mind once more, picturing a hundred different ways Val could be restrained from contacting him or his beloved company, none of them the truth. Gathering his thoughts, suppressing his anger towards the cold arrogance of the VT Council, in which as Vice President they STILL outweighed him in power…he formed his response.

LANCE – I cannot explain to you in words what kind of willpower Valaryc Versai possesses…You have to be there…right in the middle of the action, let your eyes witness how the man works.

RAY – (nods respectfully) Believe me Lance, I more then sympathize with you on a personal level. I admire Val’s determination to survive and take a personal interest in his deeds of the past. Without him I wouldn’t have my position today…The man has a certain presence that demands respect when he walks into a room…a certain charisma that draws you directly to every word he speaks.

LANCE – (smirks) I know that all too well. If you think the occasional pep talk he gives his staff is uplifting, try working side by side with him in combat. He’s just as demanding when he’s kicking someone’s butt from one side of the room to another, and yet even in his focus he still has the time to make some coy remark and send his opponent’s focus, off balance.

RAY – (nods slowly) Still…business is business. The Council has ordered me to inform you, that with the absence of Valaryc Versai, it is our duty to elect a new member to assume his position as CEO of this company. Much like voting a president out of power due to a inability to carry out his duty, by say a stroke or something as Vice President, you’re next in line for the role.

Lance glares a moment, his anger not focused on Ray but the members of the Council. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t like the position of President, but he never would want to take what Val had spent his lifetime building. He was fiercely loyal to Val’s friendship, he wasn’t exactly confident though that Val would take the news of being voted out of his company, so lightly. A man like Val didn’t deserve that treatment, not from a council not from his friends.

Spinning on one heel, rising from his seat Lance paces over to a window, gazing to the reconstruction in progress of the Versai Tech towers devastated by The Killian Shadow Serpents months ago…the corporation was beginning to heal itself from the attack and there were now new measures in place to see that the lowered defenses of the past, did not reoccur again. Lance’s concentration bubbled with indecision as to what he should do for the company and what he should do for himself.

LANCE – (sideward glance to Ray) Right now the Council should realize we have bigger problems to deal with then “order”. In case they do not realize it we still have a very effective threat running around here in our midst. A serial killer who demands further attention then the chain of command’s business matters.

RAY – (nods) I am aware, as are they but it is in their opinion that order in VT’s structure must be maintained first. I have to warn you Lance, this might be your only opportunity to maintain your control over this company, and if you don’t accept the position someone else will.

LANCE – (spins sharply towards Ray) I will NOT assume the Presidency of Versai Tech until there is proof…so let us not concentrate on what we assume…let us concentrate on what we know.

Ray nods slowly, speechless towards the well formulated remark, finding himself infatuated with Lance’s fierce loyalty to Versai’s friendship, even when offered a position that would give him great power and wealth remaining loyal to Val above his responsibilities.

LANCE – I am no longer concerned with apprehending this traitor Dathan. I’m no longer concerned with trying this traitor in a court of law…all I want now is his head.

RAY – I understand Lance, but you have to keep in mind if you turn down the position, you’ll risk not only your position in the eyes of the Council but control over this “traitor” manner as well. Don’t worry about doing the right thing for honor Jade, do the right thing for purpose.

LANCE – (sighs) Once this is done, can it be reversed in the event Val does surface?

RAY – (nods) It is procedure that if the President is deemed worthy to receive back his position, it is your right to return it to him. The only other problem here that might complicate things is that The Council has voted to bring in Dathan alive for trial…you’re forbidden to kill him.


Glaring to the data pad on his desk, Lance quickly walks over to the device, taking into his hand an electronic tablet pen, quickly reading through the contractual agreements of the rank for any sign of “fine print”, nodding to Ray with a heavy sigh, signing his signature across a dotted line.

RAY – I know this was difficult Lance, but you must realize this. If Val were as good a friend as you believe he is, he would have done the same thing if the roles were reversed. As President of Versai Tech you have full access to anything you need anywhere in the fourteen allied companies under our control from Merr-Sonn to Frei-Tech Inc, anything you require is at your disposal.

LANCE – (nods slowly) What I have signed, what I have accepted is for the purpose of ending Dathan’s rule here…when he is finished and Val has returned, my term as President will be over. As for Dathan…I’ll do what I can but I swear on the “Jade” name, if he kills any more people…I won’t be held responsible for my actions.

RAY – (nods) You’ve made the right choice Lance…or should I say, Mr. President.

LANCE – (calms a bit) Well in the mean time it does have a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?

RAY – (smiles) Yes Sir, it does.

Suddenly, as Lance becomes the new President he’s already called to arms as Michael’s voice blares through his wrist comlink with a crackling urgency.


Lance quickly races to the wall, sliding his fingers over a DNA encoded reader as a panel slides back to reveal a full stock of blaster pistols, energy packs, holsters, and other military issue equipment. Nodding to Ray, Lance tosses him a DL-30 blaster in a holster and some ammunition nodding to him as he clips a lightsaber to his belt.

LANCE – As President now, I wonder if you would like to join me in a little…adventure.

RAY – (taking the weapons, applying the side holster) Turn down a chance to fight side by side with the illustrious Lance Jade? How can I refuse? Let’s go!

Lance smiles in admiration of Ray who, by the way he swiftly knew how to apply a holster to his left thigh, and load the DL-30 blaster obviously had known more then relaying messages and filing paperwork…This was Lance’s intuition at work, finding his assumption correct he briskly adjusted his boots, checked over his dual shoulder holsters then nodded to Ray as they both rushed out the door. While Lance and Ray raced towards the turbo-shaft to the tenth floor, across the way on the fifteenth floor, another battle was about to take place…in which a single member of the Board of Directors was awaiting his fate

Welcoming it…


Inside the dimly lit interiors of VT’s armory where classified security screens blipped with various multi-colored buttons and flickering green text, Marc Jade watched and waited in the only sensible place he knew he would stand a chance against his approaching threat.

Marc slide his fingers around a Merr-Sonn "Flash" 4 Heavy Blaster Pistol, loading a fresh energy pack into the magazine chamber. His eyes trained on the twin doors across about three meters to his left, knowing deep down that soon, very soon a war would take place. Ever since the conference confrontation with Jenner, Marc had kept tabs on the events preceding it. He remembered the “talk” Dathan had given he and Gabe and Mitch when they walked in on Dathan’s hand wrapped around Tula’s throat. The secret was out, but once they knew of it…all their lives were now in jeopardy. Jenner as he was known now had given the four members of the board a single option…comply with his facade in front of Lance’s presence framing Ken as “The Mole” or die as a result of “change” in his plans.

Gabriel didn’t put up much of a fight, nor did Mitch. They were not fighters, they didn’t possess much brains in the ways of mental warfare. Marc on the other hand was much more then he seemed. His mentality was to remain silent and watch, rather then spend much of a social life with his co-workers. He kept to himself and observed everything that happened around him, this in turn gave him a distinct advantage to detect who was lying to him behind his back and who was next to betray him. Marc’s race was also equally as elusive, known as Amonites they were able to act and display humanlike qualities but when angered enough or triggered, they possessed powers and strengths vastly beyond that of blasters and standard military combat techniques.

Marc had counted on this secret being unknown to his approaching storm. Marc already had put the puzzle together that Jenner’s pattern was as clear as day to those who didn’t spend their time mourning over the loss of friends, or the traumatic effects of betrayal from ones they thought they could trust. Marc didn’t talk about the events with anyone, or share his perspective on the situation. He had listened and gathered his own resources from the security teams and reports.

The number of victims Jenner was eliminating was cycling down from 5, to 4, and would unquestionably cycle down to 3, 2, and finally…the one. Marc also discovered that Jenner was systematically hunting down members of the Board of Directors by the position in which they sat around the conference table…for Gabriel was first, then Mitch, then himself. He already knew that Jenner would come after him to finish his sick plot to destroy the command structure of VT itself from the inside out and this is why Marc chose an armory as his battleground.

The room was vast, as big as a hanger bay but slightly compact with rows of containers, shelves, storage boxes, and weapons racks surrounding the rectangular area. Marc also knew that alarming Lance and Michael would be too risky, for if Marc let his guard down or was alone by himself in a location smaller then this, Jenner could just as easily slip behind him and end his life before he could even blink. Here, there were only two ways in, the front door and the ducts above him. Both of which Marc could easily see, watching both with a careful eye but then there would lay his mistake…

While Marc clutched his fingers around the handle of his drawn blaster pistol, training the heavier version of a DL-44, he slowly surveyed the dim interior of the armory for anything unusual. He noticed that one of the weapons racks were knocked over and behind it was a air duct he had not taken into account when he staked out his position, another possible breach in his airtight plan to strike Jenner before he should strike first for as Marc’s eyes trained themselves on the vent he also noticed that the bolts securing the latch from opening a heavy metal grate…were gone.

Suddenly Marc stood up and spun around, shifting his gaze through the darkness around him, a clatter of fallen blaster rifles sparking his attention from INSIDE the room. The disturbance was followed by another not too far from the first, spiraling around him, as he could see other weapons racks and various military equipment fly off the shelves as if bring thrown about, yet there was no sign of a figure…only darkness.


Marc’s outburst was quick, and unlike his silent nature…but the thought of missing something as insignificant as another air duct against the wall, behind the rack angered him because now he realized that it wasn’t he who was hunting Jenner, it was Jenner now already in the room hunting him.

As quick as lightning Marc waiting for another rack to fall over, jerking his blaster hand up squeezing the trigger, watching lines of coherent red energy spew in deadly fire towards their target. To his surprise the light from the blasters illuminated a figure wrapped in a shimmering black cloth, its hand quickly coming up to absorb and dissipate the blaster shots as they impacted into an invisible barrier just before its palm.

Marc wondered if he had managed to somehow disturb the stealth technology of Jenner’s Killian wardrobe or if Jenner had simply chosen to drop the charade knowing he was already detected.

Marc watched as Jenner moved with lighting quick efficiency across the cold steel floor. Marc squeezed the trigger again and fired off a salvo of blaster bolts, hot on Jenner’s heels as he raced behind a column, out of sight. Marc’s adrenaline raced now knowing that the hunt had now officially begun.

Jenner’s voice echoed in a mechanical tone, from behind the pillar. The voice-masking device he spoke through veiled his usual tone, as it seemed to come from all angles into Marc’s ears.

JENNER – Did you really think you would escape Marc? Do you really think you can win? Give up now and I’ll make it quick.

As Jenner, or what appeared to be Jenner for the moment spoke from behind his hiding place, Marc didn’t say a word stealthily crept along the floor, coming up on Jenner’s left to see him arched against a pile of boxes stacked ten feet high before him, having moved to a new location. Marc’s aim was dead on and he fired another salvo of crimson brilliance towards Jenner, managing to nail his jet black Killian garb but to his surprise his shots were dissipated by Jenner’s own clothing!

JENNER – (mechanical voice) When will you people learn that my power exceeds your own and that your pathetic blasters are no match for the skills of The Killian and the power of the dark side.

MARC – (smirks) If blasters are no threat to you Jenner, why do you insist on running from them?

Jenner quickly spins around, detecting Marc’s new location growling in a mechanical scowl as he sidesteps Marc’s fresh salvo of blaster bolts. It was obvious that Jenner’s attire could absorb blaster bolts, but only in certain intervals, for if the cloth’s properties were without restraint he could simply stand before Marc and allow him to drain his ammunition. As Jenner veered up towards Marc’s right side, he quickly raised his gray gloves, sending a furious force push into Marc, sending him crashing into a pile of boxes behind him. For the moment complicating Marc’s strategy with heavy weight, pinning him.

Marc glared upward as Jenner casually paced up towards him, drawing in his hand a lightsaber bent on making the battle short and sweet. Marc’s eyes narrowing as he drew in his Amonite strength to lift and toss off the boxes, just before Jenner ignited his lightsaber in a dazzling extension of magenta light.

Reaching for the closest thing he can find, Marc frantically managed to grab himself a “street sweeping” like concussion grenade launcher, grinning a bit as Jenner stood before him with his pink hued lightsaber flickering, assuming a type II position, blade faced towards Marc.

MARC – You can rely on your dark side Jenner, I’ll simply rely on this.

Marc pulls the trigger to the grenade launcher as three explosive bursts find and explode around Jenner’s position, sending HIM crashing into a rifle rack, but with lightning quick agility Jenner flips back to his feet, lightsaber still in hand. Having used the force to create a lesser force shield, Jenner managed to absorb the grenades but the impact was too great for even he to handle. Marc sensed this and began chasing Jenner firing off more shots as Jenner weaved back and forth away from them, then disappeared around a corner.

Marc clutched the grenade launcher in his hand, knowing full well if he wasn’t too careful he could wind up shooting something explosive and set the whole armory off like a power keg, finding his timing to fire on Jenner selective and limited. In a flash of magenta brilliance, Marc was completely stunned as Jenner appeared from behind him and moved to his side, sending his pink blade clean through Marc’s grenade launcher, severing the barrel from the stock, thankfully it did not ignite the rounds left in the circular, cycling barrel but it was enough of a shock to allow Jenner to grab him by the neck and slam him against a wall.

JENNER – You make it so easy Marc…All I have to do is squeeze.

Marc glares towards Jenner as he wraps his fingers around his outstretched glove, trying to pry the stone grip from his throat as Jenner clutched his windpipe tighter. Seeing a last minute effort, Marc sends a swift kick towards Jenner’s midsection, enough to weaken his hold. Marc using the advantage grabs Jenner’s wrist holding the pink bladed lightsaber and hurls him face first into the wall, with a sickening clang of metal.

Marc growled in frustration knowing that his plan to restructure Jenner’s face was useless as he was obviously wearing a mask under his foreboding hood, which would also tend to explain the mechanical voice…but what was Jenner trying to hide?

Jenner slide his foot between Marc’s legs and swiftly brought it upward, delivering a devastating blow to Marc’s groin, causing Marc to gasp for breath and focus hard not to fall on the floor and groan, instead toppling backward, using his hands desperately to remain standing, stumbling to his knees.

He didn’t have long, before Jenner continued his pursuit, slashing downward with his magenta hued vengeance, as his lightsaber blade sheared though storage boxes and weapons racks like a hot knife through butter leaving Marc seconds to roll his way out of the range of the diagonal arcs and white hot debris.

MARC – You wouldn’t be so damn tough without your lightsaber Jenner, in a REAL man’s fight you’d lose.

Jenner raises a brow behind the mask, running a finger along where his chin would be in thought, suddenly deciding to extinguish his lightsaber and re-clip it to his belt. Marc’s lips grinned in delight as he had managed to persuade his opponent to fight him on his own level. But what he didn’t account for was that Jenner wasn’t going to wait for his opponent to get up, and what resulted were several blows to Marc’s chest as he tried to get back to his feet and a more aggressive position.

Grabbing a data pad to his right, Marc sent the device spiraling into an uppercut into Jenner’s obscured hood, causing the device’s glass window to shatter from the impact of glass meeting metal. Marc was angered now, seeing the advantage he continued to slam the fractured unit into Jenner’s chest, thighs, back and head, like a steel chair as Jenner wobbled in a dizzy state trying to regain his focus. Marc sent another crushing blow towards Jenner’s left arm, but this time Jenner used great force enhanced speed to finally cease Marc’s aggressive assault and turn it back on him, using his gloved arm, Jenner’s jet black robed forearm flung skyward, causing the glass unit to fly back and slam square into Marc’s face, adding enough of a distraction for Jenner to reverse the position of power.

Jenner using lightning fast punches and kicks; Marc barely has enough time to deflect them, some finding their mark with thunderous intensity in a blur of gray and black fury. Each impact sends Marc’s body writhing in pain but as painful as it is; his will is strong to not let Jenner defeat him.

Jenner growls fiercely behind the mask, kicking and punching whatever part of Marc’s anatomy he can see using the dark side as his ally to move in a blur, faster then any normal human can see. Marc pants out deflecting the blows he can, then allows Jenner to plant his foot into his ribcage, using the momentum to grab Jenner’s leg and hurl him with brute like strength down to the floor. Jenner blinks in a dazed state from the quick maneuver glaring to Marc standing above him as he sends his foot crashing down into his chest, just as fast as the exchange of punches and kicks.

Marc is relentless now like a wolf sniffing the blood of its prey, hammering his boot into Jenner’s black robed chest, trying to see just how strong his armor might be, hoping to inflict enough damage to balance the odds. Jenner uses the force once more to send a force push towards Marc, smaller in intensity its enough to knock him back off balance, as Jenner grabs his assaulting boot and now sweeps Marc to the floor, reversing the attack its now Jenner pounding his boot into Marc’s chest, and Marc does not possess protection as Jenner does, feeling his ribs straining under the assault.

As a last desperate effort, Marc grabs a blaster from his holster and hurls it towards Jenner’s face, handle first cracking Jenner across the skull, but as Jenner recoils back he grabs Marc’s throat with a iron grip and blinding speed, hurls him up  against the same wall where he was slammed into previously, again the tide of the battle turning.

JENNER –(glaring in Marc’s eyes) You pose to be more trouble then you are worth Member of the Board, Marcus Jade. Clever as you are to understand the order in which you all with die, you will fail.

Marc suddenly clears his mind and focuses on Jenner’s glove, quickly hurling his body upward with his own force abilities, it’s enough to cause Jenner to lose his hold on his neck. While Marc is hurled upward, he manages to tear off a portion of Jenner’s gloved hand, exposing flesh and a weakness. Jenner recoils his hand in anger, trying to shield it from view, as Marc lands before him and spears him to the ground with a crashing thud.

As Jenner struggles to free himself from the vulnerable position, Marc grabs his exposed hand and bites into it, drawing blood, drinking some of it.

Jenner scowls in anger as he tucks his knees in under Marc who lies atop him, hurling his hands backward, blood oozing along one of the torn gloves, he uses his weight to hurl Marc off of him and across the room spinning through the air. Marc’s attention is so focused on his plan, that he barely has time to back flip off the wall to his feet, his back turned towards Jenner in a very unusual lowering of his defenses.

Seeing this opportunity Jenner grins with delight, glaring to his injured hand then towards Marc beginning to casual stride towards him.

JENNER – You…you…bit me.

Marc’s back is still turned as his voice deepens and his eyes flash to a brilliant shade of blood red. He stands slightly arched over, with his hands along his face about five feet from Jenner as a deep sadistic laugh escapes is blood barren lips.

MARC – (deep, cold, tone) You aren’t the only one with secrets Jenner…

JENNER – Why would I possibly care? All I care about is you…dead.

MARC – (laughing hysterically) Oh yes! But my secret is greater then yours…

JENNER – (raises a brow) Oh? Really? You don’t know everything you think you know about me Marc.

Marc grins broadly as he turns around, still shadowed in darkness.

MARC – You ever wonder why I stay so silent? Because there are things people should not know about me...things people should FEAR about me.

JENNER – There isn’t a damn thing you could hide from me that would make me fear you Marc. You are nothing but an animal that needs to be put to sleep.

MARC – (grins, cackling) You are half right on that…I am an animal, but its YOU WHO WILL BE PUT TO SLEEP!

As Marc yells towards Jenner, his silhouette is a blur, rushing Jenner with immeasurable speed, Jenner has no time to even brace as Marc’s fists slam into every inch of his body, then hurls him like a rag doll across the room into a pile of boxes, only to grab him by the neck and slam him into another weapons rack, then another storage shelve, into a wall, a door, a grate…anything in his path.

Jenner is powerless to cease the brutal onslaught Marc unleashes upon him, having greatly underestimated his opponent’s ability, Marc’s secret was not found on any records only the distinction of his need of a “blood store” for healing purposes. Jenner’s mask cracks down the middle as he’s slammed head first into a solid steel support beam, the force needed to do so that of a fright train slamming into a car trapped on the tracks.

Out of pure desperation Jenner’s mind tries to block out the pain centers triggering off in every region of his body like Christmas tree lights, drawing the dark side to his command. Marc is feral in his attack now, having drawn Jenner’s blood and tasted it with the odds now greatly focused in his favor he tears into Jenner’s robe and manages to shred the Killian fabric off in sections, revealing a flat-black body glove beneath it. The shape of the figure below however causes Marc to wonder about Jenner’s identity and this momentary lapse in his attack, allows Jenner to draw in the dark side and unleash a force pull to a high power tazer gun in his view. Marc has no time for any counter measures other then to fall to his knees and try to block the searing energy sapping his strength as much as inflicting agonizing pain as Jenner pulls the trigger. Jenner shakes his head and slowly manages to stand up and regain his focus, extending his weapon outward in sizzling bursts of electrical hatred.

JENNER – You know more then you should ever have known Marc, I don’t know where you have drawn this second wind of yours but I assure you as it was before, I AM IN CONTROL.

Marc’s head slowly rises from the floor as he tries to fend off the electricity sapping his strength, growling in turn. Jenner’s lighting suddenly releases the trigger as he sees Marc’s face has changed from when he first encountered him.

Marc’s eyes were now blood red, and the regions of his face were scrunched and stretched, as his mouth bared shimmering white extended canines. The Amonites were reptilian and they exhibited some relations to vampires but of a different sort, possessing immense speed and healing properties. This would come in handy as the battle dragged on.

JENNER – What kind of…freak…are you!

MARC – More than….more than….you….can….handle

With his concentration broken, Marc manages to swipe his clawed hand upward, and bat away the tazer gun from Jenner’s grasp, shattering to the floor. Jenner reaches for his lightsaber again, extending the shimmering magenta blade as the vibrating radiance reflects off the surface of his cracked mask, behind the hood of his tattered robe where Marc had used his extended fingernails like claws to shred it.

MARC – Back to the lightsaber huh? Told you I could…..beat you….in a ….fair…..fight.

JENNER – (grins) Fair? Who ever said that a villain had to fight fair? We have no LIMITATIONS!

Marc scrambles to his feet as he avoids Jenner’s pink fury that slashes to the floor behind him, as he starts to run off, but Jenner uses the dark side to grab him and yank him back towards him, as he waits for Marc to spin around to defend his attack.

As Marc spins around he sees out of the corner of his eye a stray flechette pistol within reach, not as fancy or as rare as Val’s it’s a standard issue FWG-5 Flechette Pistol, waiting for the right moment to fire but not realizing that the pistol needs a certain amount of feet to release its deadly ammunition. Out of reflex Marc fires off a shot into Jenner’s face, but it does little good then slam the completed canister into his faceplate and clatter to the floor, having no teeth to its bite. In seconds, before Marc can gain enough distance to fire again, Jenner brings his magenta blade clean through his left wrist, severing both his hand and the pistol that it held, sent spiraling into the air.

MARC – (cries out) ARGGGGGGGgggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhh

Jenner stands before his injured prey, now short one limb watching Marc’s severed hand fly into the darkness and out of site, bringing his eyes back to bare on Marc as he clutches his wrist protectively, trying to cope with the sudden shock to his system. Though he was maimed, all was not lost for Marc, like a reptile given the proper treatment unique to his race, his hand would replace itself with a new one, but still the pain was the difficult part to deal with, knowing that if he didn’t start to try and find another solution he’d lose his battle and his life to Jenner who stood coldly above him.

That nagging thought still lingered in Marc’s mind, something wasn’t matching the reports he had read on Jenner’s usual MO, something was different especially under the garb of his robe. Marc didn’t have much time to think it over though as his body was levitated with the force into the air, by Jenner’s extended right palm, saber still violently humming in his left.

JENNER – Don’t waste your breathe…by the time you figure it out, you’ll be gone.

Jenner’s hand recoils back, then forward as Marc’s body is sent hurling back first into computer consul, the glass shearing into portions of his back as the screen shatters into hundreds of razor sharp shards of glass, all falling on Marc’s heavily bled body. Jenner glancing in delight to his handiwork as casually walks over to Marc’s broken body. Though dazed, Marc uses the force to temporarily mask his pulse, in hopes to convince Jenner that he has passed on, knowing that if he can gain enough time and get back to his “blood store” he can face Jenner another time and learn from his mistakes.

Jenner glares down to Marc’s lifeless body and kicks it, to see if it moves seeing that he remains still. Further testing to see if Marc is faking his defeat, Jenner pick up a four inch shard of glass and suddenly jabs it through Marc’s right thigh, again seeing no response. Running his exposed, bleeding finger along Marc’s neck Jenner checks for a pulse…he finds nothing.

To his delight, He then extinguishes his lightsaber and clips it back to his belt, yanking the shard of glass from Marc’s thigh, he grabs his right hand and carves into it, the number “3” in three quick and deep slices drawing lines of blood along the top of Marc’s wrist, slicing almost to the bone.

With a smile upon his lips, Jenner stands up before Marc’s body and slams his fist into what is left of the computer screen, as another shower of glass rains down, embedding itself in Marc’s already heavily lacerated body. Seeing his mission completed, Jenner spins around on one heel and escapes through the same air duct he had came through in the first place, leaving Marc dead still on the floor.

As soon as Jenner is clearly out of sight, Marc lets out a huge gasp of air, curling his lips in excruciating agony. Though his will to live and his Amonite abilities alone, he was able to hold his tongue as his body was inflicted with injury and added to that slow his pulse enough to mimic death.

Marc was alive but he was far from stable…he needed medical attention or he would find himself dying for real from a lack of blood, which trailed itself from the far corner of the room to his current position now, knowing his theory was correct glaring to the “3” carved into his right wrist, while craning his eyes slowly towards his severed left limb, where his hand once rested. He had lived for the moment and in the darkness of the room as the lights sputtered and equipment crackled from the devastation of he and Jenner’s struggle for survival…He laid there motionless, hoping that someone would detect the explosions, the gunfire and come to his aid, dwelling upon the fact that he knew another secret about Jenner that others did not.


It was a desperate rush to escape; Jenner had bound out of a room and into a well-placed trap. Glaring to his left and right, before him were a squad of ten well armed security guards, and vastly approaching behind him Lance Jade, DL-44 in hand and Rayloth with his own pistol drawn train their blasters on vital parts of Jenner’s anatomy seeking to force him into submission and capture, though it takes literally a act of the force to stop Lance from taking the law into his own hands and destroying Jenner where he stood, wrapped in his tattered Killian attire.

Jenner however showed a eerie sense of calm, as if he had been expecting such a set up. He had known that from the time his secret was out in the open he would be a rat trapped in a maze run by political cats in purple uniforms, thirsty for his blood upon their lips…or in their noble ways, his tail between their clutched jaws, dragging him to a mousetrap that would with a quick snap…sever his life force from their world.

But there was on little problem with the happy trap the cats had set…Jenner was no normal “mouse”. Armed with blasters and training, all of the security force with the exception of Lance Jade knew not the power of the force and how to wield it, as one might know that even the most grandest tech like the famed Death Star was no match for the power of the force in which all things were connected.

Jenner grinned behind his hood as he drew if back from his head, letting his curly black locks flow along his neck, his eyes now narrowed from the clumsy businessman to the cold, calculated killer. There was little emotion that could be detected from his narrowed gaze, craning to his left and his right trapped in the center of a hallway with only two ways to escape, blockaded by uniformed flesh. Still Jenner was not Quillion’s chosen Apprentice for nothing. Jenner had shown exceptional skills in cloaking his true fighting potentials in battle, very similar to that of Val in his own.

Letting a sadistic smile slowly form along his lips, Jenner grinned in a maniacal glee as he slowly raised his hands towards the ten blaster aiming individuals before him, standing in a form II position, with his body turned to the side, so that with his hands lifted into the hair, covered by Killian issue gray gloves, he could slide his observance from Lance and Ray, to the squad a few meters in front of him, plotting his deceptive strategy, carefully surveying the structure of the area around him.

JENNER – (glaring to Lance) So…here we are hmm? Is this the final standoff in our little game Mr. Vice President? Are you going to take me in and be the hero?

Lance slowly slides his finger off the trigger of his blaster, as Jenner’s words shear through him like the shards of glass that pierced into Marc’s injured body. Lane remembered the underlying coldness of Val’s last words to him, to take out the traitor for good, and forget the law. Lance had every right to end Jenner’s tyranny with a blast from his DL-44’s trained muzzle and yet as the new President of Versai Tech, he knew the VT Council would not share his belief in true justice.

LANCE – (growls) For your crimes Dathan, I will see you burn….but not by my hand will you be judged.

JENNER – (grins) Oh that is a shame…I was rather looking forward to a dance with you Lance, a dance of shimmering blades, sizzling across a battleground of my choosing to see if the rumors of your skills were true.

LANCE – You will not get that opportunity Jenner, this is the last place freedom will follow you.

Jenner slowly begins to advance on the squad of troops before him, keeping his eyes roaming from each one, and their weapons with his hands still in the air, the long black robe covering his arms from view as the gloves extend up to his forwards under them. Lance starts to see how Jenner is inching his way into the crew, knowing that a sadistic killer like Jenner has another card up his sleeve, trying to decipher what it is.

JENNER – You and your entire band of pathetic boys cannot kill me Lance, because I know something you do not.

Ray shifts his gaze a moment, training his blaster towards Jenner’s thigh, beginning to pull the trigger knowing that the shot will dampen Jenner’s advance towards the individuals before him. Lance motions with his hand for Ray to cease his objective and wait.

LANCE – (whispering to Ray) No Ray…not yet, stand down.

RAY – But why? It’s not killing him? I don’t…

Lance silences Ray with another swift gesture of his finger, before craning his eyes towards Jenner once more, raising an eyebrow. Jenner grins in delight as his plan begins to unfold, what the others around him do not sense and with Lance’s mind preoccupied with his little bit of news is that Jenner is drawing upon the power of the dark side in vast amounts, keeping his eyes locked between Lance’s weapons and the soldiers watching him, staring towards the muzzles of their weapons, whispering under his breath towards the puzzled security members.


JENNER – (smiling wickedly) No…. you won’t fire on me Lance, because if you do it won’t be just me who will suffer.



Jenner focuses on Lance’s mind, using his superior dark side tendencies passed on from Quillion himself, Jenner uses the dark side to fill Lance’s mind with the image of poor Tula An in her medical bay, resting as a pair of gray gloves suddenly grab her by the throat from behind, and plunge a long needle into her neck sending her into unconsciousness as her body is dragged out of the room…the image then disappears with a cackling laugh.

LANCE – What the…


Lance growls low under his breath as the image begins to recycle in his mind, no longer under the focus of Jenner’s control, seeing the figure knowing who it is and knowing very well what victim has been taken from the room, a anger stirring in his soul towards the continued suffering Jenner has put Tula An through, shaking the memory away.

LANCE – You’re bluffing Dathan…if I have learned anything from you, it’s that you are a liar.

Jenner glares towards the VT security staff in front of him, keeping his focus on their weapons, while keeping his back towards Lance, talking over his shoulder taking more steps forward, hands still in the air where everyone can see them.

JENNER – Me? lie? I prefer looking at things from a certain point of Lance. You are bound by your measures of honor and responsibility, of valor and bravery. Me? I have no limitations, no conscience, and no need for your childish morals of love or dedication.

LANCE – Cry me a river Dathan. I don’t give a rancor’s claw about your pathetic sob stories. Your reign of terror has come to an end!

Jenner spins back on his heel pointing his extended finger towards Lance, scowling as his facial features contort into a angered disposition.


Lance steadies his aim, growling towards Jenner, sliding his fingers along the firing trigger of his blaster. Ray watching Lance’s face scrunch in his own fit of rage and yet control…knowing there is a lack of decision reached within his mental ground.

RAY – Lance…you know you can’t kill him, you can’t give him what he wants. But you can make sure his life is a living hell. TAKE OUT HIS LEG!

Lance squeezes the trigger as a blast of coherent red energy fires towards Jenner, who simply stands there and lets it come, gambling that his own threat will uphold against his advisory’s pride. Jenner’s bet pays off as Lance’s shot falls short and impacts into the carpet below Jenner’s feet, scolding the fabric as it produces a puff of smoke and tattered, singed cloth.

LANCE – I’m not going to let you beat me Dathan. If I strike you down right now I’m not better then you are.

JENNER – (grins) Excellent! This is why I am stronger then you Lance! You don’t have the instinct I possess!
LANCE – What instinct is that?

Jenner slowly cranes his eyes back towards the group of security men before him, keeping his hands in the air as he glances over his shoulder to Lance, stepping closer towards their trained weapons.

JENNER – A killer…instinct.

Suddenly Lance shoots his eyes upward towards Jenner’s raised hands, seeing a spark of red brilliance curling around his fingertips, pulling back the trigger of his blaster, unleashing a salvo of energy towards Jenner, but not fast enough, its too late as Jenner uses one hand to unleash a point blank blanket of dark side lighting into the troops before him. What they did not realize is that dealing with a deadly force user who has the dark side at his command, during his speech Jenner had systematically used his time and Lance’s relent to attack to disable the ten security guard’s blaster chambers. With flashing instinct of their own they all pull back their triggers to find that the blasters only make a resounding “click” as lighting fries their bodies, sending them writhing to the floor.

With his other hand, Jenner seems to be able to track the timing of Lance’s shots, using his fingers he stretched them outward and brings them together to form a closed, flat handed gesture. With expert precision his hand parries every shot Lance and Ray fire upon him, in a flurry of gray and smoldering smoke and dazzling red light. The shots from Lance and Ray cease as Jenner uses their own weapons against them to hurl the shots off his invisible barrier back towards them, watching in splendor as to his left now Lance and Ray dive for cover into two doorways along them, forced to pull back as they can only watch in horror as the ten guards, so well trained reach a sizzling end at Jenner’s feet.

Jenner hurls his lightning into a row of lights along his left side, as each burst begins to send a chain reaction stretching down their uniform line, one by one a light panel explodes in a shower of sparks, picking up speed, until it reaches Lance and Ray’s position, Lance quickly grabs Ray, but he’s not fast enough as deep shards of transparasteel slam into Ray’s back, knocking him to the floor. Lance grabs Ray and waits for the danger to pass, before flinging him carefully but swiftly to the right side, out of harms way.

Jenner paces past the smoldering corpse as he watches Ray and Lance duck out from their safe positions, having known that their blaster shots were useless now against him. To his surprise as Jenner steps across the chests, backs, groins, and legs of sizzling flesh below him, he sees Lance holster his DL-44, beginning to approach him down the hallway, closing in on his position.

LANCE – (taking a deep breath) Dathan…I will end you, I guarantee you that but for the moment since we’re at a clear disadvantage here I wish to speak to you, man to man if you have the villainous ego to flaunt your victories, you’ll accept my request.

JENNER – (raises an eyebrow) What makes you think I won’t just kill you too?

LANCE – A hunch…Why would you reveal to me what you’ve claimed you’ve done to Tula An just to kill me?

JENNER – Clever boy…

Lance keeps walking down the smoke filled hallway. Sparks fly outward from damaged consuls built into the hall and rows of light that helped illuminate the corridor flicker and sputter in and out of function, all the result of Jenner’s energetic assault to shift the odds of capture into his favor.

JENNER – That’s far enough…

Lance stops about 4 meters from Jenner’s current position, keeping his own hands raised up, fingers spread a bit showing his intentions are not to draw the twin blasters holstered in along his shoulders, making it abundantly clear even as two rivals who will inevitably have to kill one another in this moment…on neutral ground.

JENNER – I’m right you know…You are bound by your emotions Lance, I knew this when I came here, so did Quillion so did his other recruits.

Lance glances sadly towards the ten security members laying before Jenner’s gray boots then into the cold eyes of the man he has been tracking for the last couple hours, still unaware of Marc Jade’s fate and Jenner’s other secret.

LANCE – Who are you…really. You’re name isn’t Dathan is it?

Jenner glances down towards a body before him and props his boot upon a fallen security guard’s chest, glancing with a cruel smile on his lips towards Lance before answering his question.

JENNER – I’m not going to tell you everything Lance, I’m not one of those typical villains who reveals his plot to the hero, beats him up then winds up dying in the second act. I’m not that gullible or that stupid. I will tell you however what my name is and who it is that has beaten you.

LANCE – (growls a bit) Spill it.

Jenner slides his arms out to his sides, fingers presented splayed and crooked upward as he bows to Lance, standing fully, arching down so that his eyes never leave Lance’s gaze, a smile spreading along his lips revealing his glistening teeth.

JENNER – Kros Jenner, at your service. Apprentice to Lord Quillion and faithful servant of The Killian Empire.

Lance shifts his balance slightly, raising a curious eyebrow, letting one hand fall down along his hip. What Jenner cannot see that Lance is doing is brushing the activation switch to his “panic” tracer button, which when initiated will send fifty to a hundred well armed fighters to his location, all with weapons and this time some with force abilities that would either destroy Jenner or exhaust himself to the brink he can no longer fight, using Jenner’s own pride against him, letting Kros continue his “display” of typical villain arrogance.

LANCE – You came here to do what…

JENNER – (glancing to Lance’s arm) You know Lance, I like you, you have given me some rather amusing entertainment these last few days…that’s why I’m going to kill you last.

LANCE – Answer the question…

JENNER – My mission was simple Mr. “Vice President of Versai Tech” Jade. From my placement into your glorious and pathetically screened corporation, I was given the mission by my Lord Quillion to first milk your research for all its worth and beam it directly on YOUR OWN UNITRAC system to my master so that we may decipher and build your own technology against you.

LANCE – (nods slowly) That would explain The Killian having access to Luxor Armor and our Shadow Serpent schematics.

JENNER – Precisely…Those loyal to the glory of The Killian Empire has been sucking your resources dry and we have been selling your so-called “exclusives” to the highest bidder to acquire vast wealth. From your genetic research to your security measures we know everything about you.

Lance’s lips curl in a sideward smirk as he hears Jenner rant, knowing there is one thing that Jenner is not aware of, that in a matter of minutes “round two” would commence and this time Jenner’s devastating lightshow would not help him. Lance was biding his time for the moment, knowing that knowledge is power and the more he knew of Jenner the more he could use it against him later.

LANCE – What is the answer to your sick riddle you have woven through the deaths of Mitch and Gabriel?

JENNER – (raises a brow) You mean the all powerful Lance Jade is the only one who hasn’t figured that out? You hate riddles don’t you Lance?

LANCE – (nods) I prefer the direct approach…WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH TULA!

Lance snaps his hand towards his blaster, drawing the DL-44 practically point blank in Jenner’s face, through the force sensing that his reinforcements are moments away. Lance is correct in his assumption for less then thirty seconds, having been ordered by Michael Angilis to close in on Lance’s signal, a hundred heavily armed VT strike team soldiers are rushing towards Jenner’s location, with blasters drawn. Among those who wield the force, they channel the power into their attributes of strength and speed, rushing with enhanced vigor to rectify the deeds Jenner has unleashed upon them, the person right to security shattered by his trail of murder and mayhem.

Jenner slides his glowed finger along his locks of jet black, curly, hair smiling without fear or panic down the muzzle of Lance’s drawn weapon aimed towards his face. Jenner now begins to detect the force signatures of others closing in on his position, turning his smile into a straight lined frown.

JENNER – Oh really Lance, so typical…so boring. You want to know where Tula is then you’ll have to first understand the significance of my riddle.





Lance growls loudly and quickly begins to bring his finger back on the trigger, unleashing a blazing red bolt towards Jenner’s face, Jenner in turn with that same hand flexes his tendons as a lightsaber shoots from within his robe into his grasp, flicking on the luminescent crimson red fury of his lightsaber’s deadly blade parrying the shot. Lance quickly fires off another salvo, but Jenner is too fast, bringing his wrist up in a flash of crimson brilliance, clear through the muzzle of Lance’s blaster, rendering the weapon useless.

As Lance grabs for his other blaster in his right holster, Jenner brings his other hand up and curls his fingers back, the thrusts them forward sending another one of his effective force pushes into Lance’s chest. The power in the dark side defense is so potent that Lance is hurled over 15 feet backward, slamming into the damaged fabrics of the floor, having his uniform torn from his neat presentation as his back is inflicted with vicious rug burns, sliding him to a holt just as another salvo of blaster fire comes from behind him, his reinforcements taking aim at Jenner and firing, chasing him down the hallway.


Lance shakes the dizziness from his eyes and staggers along the wall, glancing to Ray, the fighter had seen a lot of action in his time but obviously he had not come across such a powerful Sith Apprentice. Slowly Lance traced his fingers along the injuries of Ray’s back, using his force powers to slowly heal him as he drew a few shards out of him. All Lance could do for the moment was glare towards Jenner and hope that his new army would take him down enough to draw more information from him, Lance being the prominent President was expected to comply and not place himself into further danger, for the sake of the company,. Speaking into his comlink as the salvo of blaster fire echoed around him, seeing Jenner dashing down the hallway and out of sight with force enhanced speed and hearing elite soldier feet rushing past him in pursuit, his words are interrupted as Jenner dashes into a force opened turbolift chute, slicing through the floor of the turbolift with his red lightsaber, using his dark side power to close the doors of the turbo lift chute, just before Lance’s heavily armed task force can train their aim on him.

JENNER – (telepathic) We will meet again Lance, you better check on your girlfriend, I have a feeling she will not be joining you for dinner tonight!

Suddenly Lance struggles with his comlink, setting it to the frequency of the Medical deck of VT. As he hears Adam’s voice respond to him.

LANCE – Adam! Quick I need some medical staff down here immediately, we have a man down and others are critically injured!

ADAM – Michael Angilis has already informed me Sir, they’re on route right now. ETA 3 minutes.

LANCE – Great…Adam I need to know one other thing…check on Tula An, see if she’s ok.

As Lance waits for Adam to respond to his request, he paces over to Ray, and pats his shoulder with comfort. To Lance Ray was an exceptional employee, who went far beyond his duty. Ray wasn’t meant for combat so soon with someone so powerful; Ray was probably trained to deal with the best in non-force assailants.

RAY – (coughs) Guess I should have…have stuck to…pushing papers, eh Lance?

Lance’s eyes drop a moment as he looks to the medics remove and replace fresh bandages along Ray’s injuries, but keeps a very straight, presidential face.

LANCE – Nonsense Ray, you followed orders. I didn’t prepare for what power that killer has…I didn’t see it…I didn’t know he would strike with such…barbaric tendencies. I should have seen it. I’m sorry.

RAY – (smiles slightly) Hey man, its ok. Taking risks is part of the job isn’t it? After all look what you’ve had to risk ya know? Having the Presidency and all, you’ve taken brave risks of your own. I believe in you Sir, I know you’ll do what’s right in the end. The back ain’t nothing bro, drop my butt in a bacta tank for a few and I’ll be good as new.

LANCE – (smiles) I’m sure you will be Ray, I’ll also see at my second act as President you receive a medal of bravery for your efforts. I’m going to finish this battle Ray, for you…for those Jenner has killed, I will see justice is served…I promise you that.

Ray smiles softly, shortly before the medics begin to wheel him away to the bacta recovery tanks on the upper floors, his eyes beaming with pride as he runs one finger along his VT nameplate.

RAY – (fading away) You’ll do the right thing Sir…Go get em.

There is a crackle of static, and a pause of tensed silence as Lance waits for Adam to answer his request, already seeing the image playing back in his mind as before, the Killian menace most likely having been Jenner drugging and dragging Tula An from her room…with a deep breath on the other end of the comlink his fear is met with confirmation.

ADAM – Uhh Sir…we’ve got two new developments you need to be aware of first….

LANCE – Answer my question! Is she ok!

ADAM – Uh well see Sir, there’s good news and bad news on that request.

Lance takes a deep cleansing breath, watching the medics arrive, attending to Ray’s wounds and examining the burned, brave security guards motionless down the hall from him. Part of Lance feels relief hearing there is “good” news in all the negativity that’s unleashed itself within the battle-scarred hall, and yet with the good, there is always the bad.

LANCE – (calm) Tell me the good news…

ADAM – The good news is that Jenner slipped up. He failed to kill his third victim, he’s heavily injured right now but due to his unique race we’re working on fixing the damage as fast as we can, he’s stable but for the moment unconscious.

LANCE – Who is he? Does he know anything we can use?

ADAM – Marcus Jade, we found him via a disturbance in the armory on the 8th level…he’s hurt pretty bad sir, lost his left hand and has sustained several burns and lacerations.

LANCE – (thinking to himself) Eighth Level? This is the tenth.

Lance begins to blank out from the scenery around him, having a mental flashback of Jenner’s words and the path of clues that he’s been left with. The first victim was Gabriel, then Mitch, and now Marc. Members of the Board…that was the key!

Jenner was killing off the people in the conference room, but he failed to finish the job with Marc Jade. Lance’s eyes wandered over to where Ray was a minute ago. Jenner had added to his list of victims at Lance’s expense. Sure Ray wasn’t permanently injured but the guilt that spread through Lance was undeniable, he had the chance to kill Jenner but he relented and for that, as noble and just as his decision was another person had been drawn into the cross fire.

Something about a statement Jenner had made stuck in the back of his mind. An odd reply that was completely off topic from Jenner’s usual banter, not part of the tech stealing plot or the assassination attempts…something Jenner said that was personal.

“You know Lance, I like you, you have given me some rather amusing entertainment these last few hours…that’s why I’m going to kill you last.”

Why would Jenner want to kill him last? Lance knew he was in the same room with the others, he was on Jenner’s hit list and yet presented with the perfect opportunity to finish him off, Jenner relented. What was it that Jenner was planning for him? Lance knew his opponent was far more powerful and intelligent then he let on, his observation of Lance’s mortality was as if it was derived from a well-tabulated dossier some Killian scum had written up on him and had given Jenner prior to their confrontation…

Jenner was holding back! But why…and Tula, he had his chance to kill her too but…

The thought struck Lance as he knew the answer now, clear as day with the numbers cycling down and the bodies turning up in the order in which they say around the conference table, victim number four was already acquired. Still lost in his own world he didn’t hear the new Adam was going to give him on the comlink, he already knew what he was going to say, without realizing it he said the exact words spoken to him by Adam following a few small details.

ADAM – I checked on Tula An and well…

LANCE – (in sync with Adam) She’s gone…


High atop the cold, polished onyx floor inside the menacing Killian Throne room, a figure glances from his throne down to two other individuals standing opposed to each other on opposite ends of the room. With his long fingers splayed along one another, flatted before him atop the very icon of his secondary persona…Quillion’s silver and red helmet, Cire gazes in delight to the web of tyranny he has woven around the shattered soul of his hatred…Valaryc Winters Versai.

Panning along the surface of the upper dais, where Cire sits in eager anticipation of the showdown of emotion to commence, we can see that just off to the far left corner, Maligna still crouches in wait using her force abilities to cloud her thoughts and her position from her maniacal uncle. Her hand gingerly grasps one of the “force spears” held within a quiver. Much like a spear they are shorter constructed of highly polished steel and are honed to a razor sharp precision on both ends of their fourteen-inch length. She growls low under her breath, barely audible as she watches Cire sit upon his throne and the very symbol of his betrayal to her mother Crymson Vachon resting atop his ceremonial robe. She knows that once she reveals both her position and her intentions to her target, there will be no turning back. For the moment Cire was unaware that she had chosen to take her own side in his personal vendetta against Val Versai.

Maligna did not care to trifle with the shattered legend below her, she didn’t care about his skill or his emotional trauma against the other opponent in a jet black Killian robe, locks of purple dangling from within. Val would have his turn to face her justice for the death of her mother in due time, for the moment she wanted to wait until Cire was completely off his guard. Countless times she had seen “Quillion” dispatch his enemies and potential traitors with swift ease. She knew he could not only read her thoughts once he detected them, but also decipher and counter each of her attacks as well. This is why she had planned on “talking” her way through her assault, demanding both answers she wanted and at the same time causing Cire to think to the point he could not speak to her, block her attacks, and read her mind all simultaneously. Her uncle had grown powerful, but not that strong.

Moving back from Cire, descending the flights of oval lighting panels capped off by a single circle on each side, embedded into the stairs that move down to the lower level of the room, their emerald brilliance was intensified by the white-hot fiery orange blaze raging from the twin hexagonal fire pits at the top of the throne, down to the larger rectangular pits along the sides of the staircase, each placed along the left and right, aligned perfectly spaced from one another in a very strict sense of balance. Cire’s version of the once prominently decorated Obsidian Order Throne room had overshadowed the grace and glamour of its predecessor with reflections of his soul. The entire chamber which was very much circular except for certain sections where windows lie placed was heatedly lit bathed in the orange and red flickering radiance of the many torches embedded in the surrounding steel walls. Above the throne room was a third level which consisted of a series of catwalks, each connected to one another, running across massive support beams placed throughout the room. Above the catwalks, were a few levels of high-density durasteel and permacite, which as the view scrolls upward led to Cire’s ultimate achievement in power, which erupted from the structure of the Citadel itself, three strategically placed spires of ruby red crystals.

Their purpose would be revealed later…all in due time as Cire grinned downward to his creation. She was absolute perfection, from her slender legs to her flaring hips and voluptuously shaped breasts. A woman as it was rapidity known made the perfect assassin, give a figure with a small ribcage and wide, stimulating hips the skill to kill and a will to do it and you can build yourself an empire. This was one of Cire’s motives from the start, most of The Killian warriors were in fact female under the robes, but you could not tell this with the uniform structure of their attire. Each member of his army wore the black robe, and the same uniform gray boots and plain, humble belt baring Killian stealth technology stolen from one of their many spies in various corporations beyond that of Versai Tech. All of their technology was financed through deals with smugglers and under lords, hired assassinations, or mercenary missions at first.

The few males that “Quillion” trusted were given a right to stand out from the rest, such as Lord Efface…a disgrace to his master now, he was allowed to opt for a menacing deep purple to his gloves and boots, as well as wear special Killian symbolism along his robe, showing his senior status among the rest of the group. Usually the higher ranked males in power had more prestige in their attire like hints of silver or gold, and wore a robe over a undergarment of their choosing unlike the typical conforming black body glove that typical warriors wore, the glove allowed them to cloak themselves from heat detection, making their body signatures from detection equipment on their many missions.

The Killian were highly effective against males in power because no one would expect a woman to wield the power or will to actually strike down a man in cold blood, that was not over jealousy or hate…but over business. So true were the circumstances now, Cire had done the impossible and raised the ashes of the past, into his dark and bleak future. He had given Gen what she needed to know and what she needed to understand from his twisted point of view and now he had unleashed her after her training with her former colleague Crymson Vachon. Gen Zeridian now possessed mastery over the techniques of Form II combat, while Cire knew that Val had sworn off the deadly style for the more defensive Form III, which narrowed his options and his potential. It was Cire’s goal now to reawaken the demon inside Val who had in the dark days of the Dark Jedi Academy, vanquished many a foe with brutal Form II based precision and make him vulnerable to the dark side, in hopes it would consume him and further plunge his doubt to stir in his soul.

As Cire observed the spectacle before him with utter joy, his eyes lit up and his lips curled as Gen’s purple bladed fury slammed towards Val, whom was running around as sparks flew from Gen’s advances like a scared cat. Val you see had two problems to deal with and Cire knew and planned for this well. For one as long as Val looked into the eyes of his attacker…into the genetically enhanced hypnotic orbs of Cire’s now beloved wife…any male, including Cire himself finds himself unable to perform simple Padawan level tasks. This gave Gen a huge advantage over the self-proclaimed “best duelist” in the galaxy for Val could easily dispatch any fighter who challenged him, man or woman. He could not however dispatch something he did not WANT to destroy. Such was Gen now.

Even turned against him, Val refused to fight her back, dodging each aggressive swing of Gen’s purple fury as it found its way into various pieces of steel and sections of the floor. Val had Obi Wan’s Second Lightsaber attached to his belt as he flipped and dodged each advancing assault. Cire was most delighted in the fact that the second advantage Gen had over Val was the emotional baggage Val has carried around for twenty something years. This is what made Gen Cire’s “ultimate weapon” from the time he had his minions steal Gen’s personal lightsaber to the point now, Cire had overseen Gen’s genetic recreation through clone technology stolen from deep within Versai Tech, handed to him on a silver platter by Jenner and various UNITRAC transmissions.

It had taken six months of waiting for this moment, nothing in this universe would rob Cire of his entertainment now, not even Maligna in the corner still planning her assault with careful aim as she draws one javelin from her quiver, and channels the force to guide her, enhancing her attributes of strength and speed. Suddenly Cire shoots his glance to his left, looking into the darkness…. sensing something there but his eyes reveal only the dead silent fabric of a Killian banner and the flicker of dancing flames in one of his many fire pits. Not to be caught completely off guard, Cire’s hand slides along his mother’s Sith Sword, in preparation before returning his gaze downward to Gen and Val’s standoff.

Val now stood breathing heavily on the left side of the lower level, while Gen stood to the right about eight meters away, her jet black Killian issue robe dangling off her well curved body, the hood drawn back as her purple locks cascaded along her shoulders, one hand extending her purple edge towards her opponent, with a Form II grace. Her body was turned three-quarters to narrow the target area should Val raise his weapon and decide to attack, yet with her genetically grown mind she could easily counter and she knew very well that the reason Val had not struck her down with his dazzling skill was simply that the hope of her turning back to his side might present itself but with this version of Gen, there was no such thing.

She didn’t want to be turned because she didn’t want Val.


VAL – (gasping from the floor) Gen….Gen…stop this. I can’t…..I can’t fight you!

Gen’s eyes wander along Val’s posture, kneeling on the floor with one hand along the smooth onyx surface while the other is outstretched towards her…Val’s words having little effect as she approaches him slowly like a wolf.

VAL – Gen I don’t know what’s happened to you but I can’t fight you…I don’t want to hurt you, snap out of it! Please…whatever he’s done, try to remember…us.

Gen’s brow raises for a moment as her purple eyes shimmer with inquiry, letting her saber blade dangle down in one hand to her left, while sliding her fingers along her right up through her hair, stopping at five meters from Val’s vulnerable spot.

GEN – Remember what Val? That you let me die? Where was your skill when Cire stabbed in the back hmm? Where was your BLAZING speed when I needed it? I’ll tell you where it was Val, it was wasted on your emotion.

Val’s eyes divert themselves from Gen as he speaks to her, finding more control from her staggering effect over his senses when he looks at her, doubled from her eyes abilities and her appearance. Something about her seems very, very, different though…he can’t quite place it but he knows each time she comes after him, each time he must watch her to avoid her advances, his willpower to fight back vanishes.

GEN – (laughing) Dearest…you and I have a lot of issues to work out…

VAL – Issues? What issues? YOU’RE THE ONE SWINGING AT ME!

Gen grips her lightsaber and sends the blade slashing down towards Val in a elegant, yet fierce vertical, downward sweep as Val rolls on his back and spins away, Gen continuing to swing towards him, finding the blade contacting the onyx floor in a shower of sizzling debris and sparks each time her saber misses its mark. Quickly channeling the force as best as he can, Val hurls a force push towards Gen, but under her influence the power of the move begins to fade until it only causes Gen’s robe to flutter and her hair to dance in the breeze, her hands bringing her lightsaber back up, presenting the blade, point first to Val’s face.

VAL – How can you do this Gen! After all we meant to each other, after everything I have done to preserve your memory! My Mansion is full of nothing but pictures of you!

GEN – (growls) I’ve given serious thought about us Val, ever since I returned to this world it’s always been about YOU. You wanted this, you wanted that, you wanted me to change for YOU. WELL NOW IT’S ABOUT ME, AND WHAT I WANT!

VAL – (blinks) But you…You were never forced to give me anything.


VAL – (shakes his head) No...No that’s not what you wanted…Have you forgotten so easily?

GEN – I have forgotten nothing.

VAL – But you have! You wanted the ONE THING your assassination assignments and teaching duties could not give you! Companionship! If you wanted power why did you kiss me!

Gen’s eyes flare with anger as she uses a two handed grip to uppercut her blade towards Val’s head. Val using his Form “V” maneuver drops to his knees, avoiding the attack but as he goes for her sweet spot, gripping his lightsaber along his belt he hesitates finding her boot coming straight for his law, sending him hurling back with its horrendous impact.


Cire yells from atop his throne down to Val, a sadistic joy in each syllable as he watches his creation carry out her mission with graceful ease.


Val evades another one of Gen’s vicious downward swings, rolling away allowing his eyes to roam her fingers, spying the familiar purple gem stone encrusted wedding ring he had crafted for her long ago, rolling out of the way of another purple assault, staring through the blinding rise of metallic debris as Gen’s saber strikes the floor, he can see Cire holding up one of his hands, where a shimmering of light glints off the gold of HIS own crafted ring…the ring Val inscribed with “Forever Bound”. Finding a new found anger rise within him, Val glares towards Gen’s attacks and avoids her eyes, enough to send a kick into her midsection, knocking the wind from her as she doubles over, her lightsaber held out along her left, blade towards the ground, dropping to one knee.

VAL – I’m…I’m sorry I can’t fight you…

GEN – (coughing from the floor) Then you…you’ll have to…kill me, because I won’t relent in….fighting you.

Suddenly Val is knocked back as Gen flicks her saber off and clips it to her belt, unleashing a furious flash of fists and kicks, in blinding Form C speed and agility. With Val forced to look into Gen’s eyes to track her movements each fist and kick finds its mark as Val’s body is riddled with the onslaught of impacts. From his ribs to his legs, to his stomach every inch of him is beaten and tenderizes from Gen’s aggravated salvo. Val’s stumbles back, trying to gain his balance as Gen whips her body around and delivers a roundhouse kick to his chest, followed by a sweep to his legs, sending him hurling to the floor. With the blinding speed of her attacks, Gen hurls her boot towards his chest, but Val finds the strength to ignore his pain and grab her foot, twisting inward from the ankle, using his other foot to slide between her legs he snaps his foot towards the left swiftly and tosses Gen’s right boot upward, causing her to tumble flat on her back as he uses his own martial arts like moves to flip back to his feet and stand above her.


GEN – (growls from the floor) Just like old times Val…you hold the advantage but you talk it away…

Using her blinding speed, Gen rolls way the force causing her body to twirl off the ground into a forward flip, back to her feet. Fast as lighting she charges towards Val again, fists ready to unleash another wave. Val sees this incoming barrage and sidesteps away, grabbing Gen as she races by him by the back of the neck, spinning his grip around her throat hurling her towards the wall, stretching his arm upward, suspending her body against the wall, arm outstretched.


Without warning, Val pulls Gen’s throat towards him and kisses her deeply, square on her lips as she struggles to fight him off her. As Val’s lips contact Gen’s lips he can see into her mind, the same ability she gave him many years ago having its full effect. Nothing however could have prepared him for what he saw next.

As Cire watches Val kiss Gen’s lips, he scowls in fury…lip quivering in anger standing from his throne, sliding his fingers along a button on his throne. As his finger presses a switch, the torches along the left of Val and Gen’s kiss slowly move downward, turning the blaze from vertical to a horizontal flamethrower. Without hesitation, the torches, five in number hurl fifth teen foot lines of fire towards Val, causing him to drop Gen and back away, as the flames rush past her and set Val’s shirt ablaze.


Val has no time to digest Cire’s words as he tears off his shirt, leaving his chest vulnerable as his shirt begins to burn in flames from the torches, which now moved back into position. As Val stares into the flames and Gen lies slumped against the wall shaking her head in a dizzy state from Val’s revealing kiss, Val is mesmerized by the images he now has buzzing through his head, images that do not match his own recollection of the past.


As Cire watches his newly crowned wife struggle to shake the dizzy spell from her head, his eyes are suddenly detoured back to the same shadowy area he had felt a disturbance within earlier. It is the same place behind the hexagonal fire pit to the left of Quillion’s throne. This time however, Cire doesn’t take any chances of interruption of is theatrical showing of Val’s duel with destiny. Cire swivels his throne chair towards his left, darting his hand outward. He summons the force to produce a swift and powerful force wind. The rush of air is so fierce in its wake that the fire pit suddenly extinguishes as the massive tower of orange meets its swift end in a puff of curvy smoke. Caught within the breeze, the Killian banner which Maligna recently hid around is torn from the floor and cast upward into the air, only when Cire lowers his hand and breaks his concentration does the cloth return to its hanging nature. With the dying silence of the sudden gesture, ending as quickly as it began, dust now hovers in a thick gray veil, choking Cire’s lungs.

CIRE – (coughs, speaking to himself) No one even bothers to dust around here!

Suddenly Cire’s eyes widen in surprise as a swift tone echoes from the darkness. In moments Cire darts his eyes towards his shimmering silver and read helmet, worn when he becomes “Quillion”, all he can see is a momentary flash of metal as his helmet is struck by some sort of object and sent spiraling down the dais steps in sequential clangs and dings of metal contacting metal.

CIRE – What the…

From out of nowhere another flash of silver metal passes beyond his eyes, and over his left shoulder impacting into the wall behind him. Cire begins to suspect, but before he can even blink he finds that another deadly sliver of metal has now found its way 2 inches from between his legs. Running his fingers along a slender looking shaft of metal with a highly sharpened point, the Dark Lord frantically tries to find the source of the attacks. As Cire glances to his left and right, he hurls twin force winds once more, this time it tears away the Killian banners and various curtains draping along the wall behind him, leaving the gray-blue steel exposed. This proves to be a rather idiotic move as now Cire has successfully managed to take out 75% of the light where his throne lies, making his search even harder. Sensing this mistake, Cire flicks his fingers forward and raises his palms facing up, upward.

In unison with his hand gestures the fire pits suddenly erupt like two miniature volcanoes in a blaze of fiery-orange rage, flames screaming from the pits illuminating the upper dais so bright, Val below is distracted and blinded by the spectacle.


Again Cire nervously snaps his head to the left and the right, down towards the stairs below where Val and Gen both seem to be caught in their own dizzy states. In desperation, Cire back flips away from his throne, moments before two more razor sharp javelins slam into its center seat.

CIRE – (looks up) Son of a bit…

Suddenly the figure of Maligna “Terra” T’Negun comes into full view, with intense speed and focus, her hands clutching her signature mandal steel javelins in each hand, streaking down in a flurry of red and black. Cire quickly recoils away as she misses her stab, but Terra doesn’t let her relative have one gasp of breath, using her javelins with brute efficiently, she manages to use the razor sharp double edges and score two lacerations along Cire’s lower left and right thighs, tearing clear through his robe.

Unknown to Terra though, Cire takes no such chances as the blades shear into his pants, he has a layer of armor underneath, revealing not blood but silver flecks of steel. As Maligna closes in on Cire, she sends a round house kick clear into his jaw. Cire spins around in utter confusion as his body is lurched in a 180 spin, robe whipping with the intensity of Terra’s kick. Again and again, Terra advances, fueled with rage and hatred…vengeance, her kicks and punches score hits on Cire’s body, much like Gen did on Val’s.

Terra’s powerful uppercuts, sends Cire reeling to his feet. Her foot comes up in a axe kick and narrowly misses slamming into Cire’s chest as he gasps for air, the speed of her assault is as blinding as her mother Crymson, executing perfected Form C style with multi-combination excellence.

Maligna sends another roundhouse towards Cire, but this time Cire predicts the move and grabs her foot, tossing her face first into the bared walls at the rear of the throne where curtains once shielded their rock hard surface. As Terra’s skull meets metal, she slashes her javelins around blinding hoping to hit something, as Cire approaches her from the back, wrapping his arm around to snap her neck with his bare hands.

CIRE – You’ve been a very…very…VERY, BAD GIRL TERRA!

Terra rapidly sends her front foot back, bringing the rear of her leg up into Cire’s groin, causing the almighty Dark Lord to weaken his grip on her neck as she follows her “mule kick” into his family jewels with another crashing kick to his stomach. As Cire begins to buckle to his knees, Terra now free of his grip spins around and grabs her Uncle by the throat and uses her force enhanced strength to hurl him clear across the dais platform into the wall to the far right with a crashing THUD.

Before Cire can even register the sensation, Terra reaches into her magnetically held quiver, hitting a release button on her wrist (so javelins don’t fall out when she flips) and in a blazing display of uncanny accuracy and speed, Terra’s weapons fill the upper dais with the screeching howl of multiple javelins flying towards Cire’s tumbling body. Even before Cire can hit the floor, the javelins of sheer razor sharp metal find their mark, slamming their honed tips through Cire’s robe, on through the fabric of his pants and covered arms under the draping robe into the steel of the wall in a series of eight evenly distributed spots, pinning his arms and legs to the wall, hanging him like a bearskin rug.

CIRE – What the hell are you doing! Val killed Crymson, go hurt him!

TERRA – (angered) VAL IS THE LEAST OF YOUR CONCERNS ANYMORE UNCLE! I have questions…you WILL answer.

Cire growls under his breath but bides his time, letting his body recover from the blazing attack his neice had unleashed upon him, letting her speak while he gathered his wits and his concentration, shaking his own dizziness from his eyes as Terra “Maligna” T’Negun, daughter of Crymson approaches him.

CIRE – (glancing to Terra) You’ve got your mother’s outfit on…how fitting.

Terra stops within 2 feet of her Uncle, having shed the uniform of The Killian Order. Her sign showed now that all she had focused upon in her life now was avenging her mother’s betrayal and her death. She burned with anger towards Val, but he was having his own problems at the moment and for the moment Cire the almighty liar “Quillion” was under her thumb.

Terra had donned the same outfit as her mother previously, from the jet black pants and red flaming pattern that runs up the side to the two toned sleeveless top, sheared down the middle where one of her breast were completely covered up to her shoulder, while the other had exposed some of her skin, and did not carry up to her opposite shoulder. She of course even had the boots and the same belt, but not the blaster and the deadly lightsaber hilt her mother once wielded. Terra never relied on lightsaber blades you see, to her she felt it was more effective to use metal, not light. Metal would not burn…metal would cut, metal would not cauterize, metal would cause an opponent to bleed. Cire much like his niece also shared this belief, which is the second reason why he has relied upon his mother’s Sith Sword in battle, the first reason being purely symbolic in nature.

Now was the new stage though, Uncle and Niece locked into a fierce battle of wits and feral gazes. Unlike Val though, Cire had no such commitments to his family, as Terra would discover.


Cire narrows his darkened eyes for a moment towards the question, still calling his strength to give him control over the dark side, not yet recovered from Terra’s onslaught before answering her question, seeking to stall her long enough to unleash his “spanking” in time.

CIRE – How touching…


CIRE – (growls)NO! She was a failure! She FAILED to finish the job TWICE, once with Val twenty-five years ago and then on his own grounds!

Cire’s eyes flicker with sarcasm as he absorbs another swift slap across his face, recoiling his eyes back to stare into Terra’s narrowed, rage filled orbs.

TERRA – FAILURE! Compared to what? Slaughtering your own men? Betraying your own Apprentices? I’m not stupid Uncle, I know when Jenner comes back you plan to kill him too.

CIRE – (grins) Loyalty is an old concept these days…Jealousy is so much more fun!


CIRE – (smiles) Dear, dear, Niece…That’s the whole point of being the boss! The element of surprise!

TERRA – (growls) I swear on my mother’s grave you will not leave this room alive. Your betrayal is over!

Cire grins broadly as his eyes slump downward, then crane up in a very sadistic and slow manner, as if sizing up his opponent, letting his beard spread along his revealed teeth and arched brows.

CIRE – No Terra… I’ve let you have your fun…Now its Uncle’s turn to play!

With his harrowing words, Cire’s fingers curl outward, then flick forward as every javelin suspending him against the wall is suddenly torn out from the dented steel. Cire uses the dark side of the force to swirl the blades together, then hurls them back towards Terra like in a hail of deadly metallic fury. Terra manages to back flip out of the way, sending her body whipping across the dais platform, her hands firmly sliding along the floor with arms outstretched as her legs arch backward, but as she flips Terra catches the razor sharp edge off her own javelin in her lower leg, plunging into the back of her calf. The tip of the rod buries itself almost to the bone, causing Terra to lose her concentration and balance, slamming onto her back with a crack on the floor, lifting her injured leg upward, cradling into a ball, grasping the metallic shaft as she cries out, tearing the intrusion from her flesh.


Blinking his eyes in confusion, Val’s mental theater plays the images of Gen’s thoughts. Seeing a dark room where a gigantic machine lies, the very same machine that has been killing Killian technicians right and left, his eyes seem to stare into a crystal ball where every area surrounding the central focus is blurred with a foggy zoomed quality (fisheye lens). The machine creaks and groans as he watches it, purple bolts of lighting swirling around a long cylinder tube, about six feet and rather thick around in diameter, enough to reveal its cargo as the top slides forward with a rush of icy cold air…

There inside the metallic container is the fully nude, fully detailed figure of Gen Zeridian. From the smooth, inviting curves of her breasts to her lust, moist lips and long flowing purple locks the body of her is completely identical. But it is not Val who stands in the room it is Quillion…the persona of Cire with his silver and red helmet placed upon him, red eyes ablaze amongst the red tattoo patterns running from the eyes, and where his lips would be.

From Val’s mental vantage point he can see Crymson Vachon standing to the far right, blurred in her appearance she is still easily identifiable by her vibrant red and black flamed attire, her jet black straight hair, and the lively blood red tattoo etched into her shoulder. Crymson’s head turns slightly as she speaks to Quillion, lifting from a table in one hand Gen Zeridian’s lightsaber, while in her other hand are a set of special lightsaber tuning tools. It was apparent she had just replaced the casing over the weapon, and was handing the unit back to her master…why she took it apart in the first place was the mystery. Val’s eyes quiver and his heart races as he watches the scene. Also in the room are a few Killian Warriors standing at attention. Quillion approaches the body of Gen and runs his fingers down her lips and down the center of her body.

Suddenly the image is washed away as a flash of pink blinds the scene. This time Gen is revealed brandishing her purple lightsaber as Crymson’s dual bladed pink weapon flashes with the blade. Both women move with blinding Form C precision as the brilliance from their clashing weapons light up the training room where they spar. Gen shows considerable skill in her training as she switches from using her lightsaber with high power grace, to hand to hand combat with Crymson who blocks her every move, until Gen scores with a kick to her ribs, followed by a backhand swing to the back of Crymson’s skull with the middle of her deadly lightsaber hilt. As Crymson stumbles to the floor, Gen ignites her lightsaber and holds the extended blade to Crymson’s throat. Crymson however motions with her hand and Gen’s saber is torn from her grasp, as Crymson flips back to her feet, and re-ignites her deadly pink edges. In seconds Gen manages to call her lightsaber hilt back to her, but not before Crymson’s blade cleaves into her side, a quarter of an inch…the move could be fatal or cause considerable damage as Gen collapses to her feet, using her power to force push Crymson back across the room into a pile of boxes.

As Val watches this sequence, he can see that the wound along Gen’s side rapidly mends itself, until there is nothing left but the singed fabric of her signature gray midriff and skin tight pants. Val’s eyes still registering the images, he then sees the vision flash to another picture…a darkened room with a flickering fireplace and lavishly decorated bed, where the sides are draped over by veils of silk, slightly transparent he can see two bodies moving along one another behind it, in silhouette.

It doesn’t take a genius for Val to decipher whom it is, for all it takes is the next revelation of black, curled locks mingling with purple strands and two hands grinding along one another, one male…the other baring purple nails. While Val is watching all of this flash before his eyes he wonders where Gen’s mind are the memories of HIM, it seemed as if these were wiped away by some pervasion of the force. That must be it! Val thought to himself, perhaps the reason Gen was so susceptible to Cire’s words was that she had no memory of Val’s affections for her…that there was a hope, a chance deep down in the darkness, he could make her remember them and turn this battle around..

Blinded by a burning desire to bring his lover’s memory back from the grave, Val is suddenly thrust back into reality as Gen’s blade comes inches from his face, hurling towards his shoulder. Val’s instincts saving him from a nasty injury as he rolls to his right, again like before…missing Gen’s graceful, yet forceful downwards arch, her lightsaber once again lit.

Gen’s eyes narrow as she zeros in on her target, sliding her lightsaber hilt from one hand to the other, in cross parry swings towards Val as he flips and rolls out of the way, running behind one of the many support pillars scattered throughout the layout of the throne room in an attempt to gain distance.

Gen’s saber slashes into anything in its path, from the pillar to various computer consuls and walls; there is a fiery-orange trail of bubbling metal, where her missed strikes have left gashes in the floor and walls. Val’s body tries to maintain its hold over healing its master, and giving him the strength to keep up with her blinding Form C pace.

VAL – Gen! Wake up I know your thoughts! I know why you’re attacking me! Try to remember us! He’s blocked your mind! You’re not thinking clearly!

Gen’s eyes blink for a moment, then her lips curl in a feral grin as she waits for Val to emerge from behind a pillar, seeing him dash from one point to another evading her now causal advance.

GEN– What’s the matter lil Val, afraid to hit a girl?

Val rolls out of the way of another downwards arch from Gen’s lightsaber, shifting his gaze towards a set of blazing torches on the wall as he stretches out his hand towards them, index and forefinger together with his thumb arches away and remaining fingers curled along his palm.

VAL – (focusing) I’m too emotional at the moment…

GEN – My thoughts are clear Val…There is no conflict, no block…no control. I am Cire’s wife now and I I’m prepared to fight dearly for him.

VAL – You leave me little choice Gen.

Val’s fingers quickly snap forward, then back in a tearing gesture as two unified torch units are ripped from the wall, in a flurry of glittering sparks. The unit is then controlled by Val’s force call and sent crashing into the back of Gen’s skull, sending her toppling forward to her knees, lightsaber extinguishing before her. Val’s eyes show a sense of remorse and yet purpose in his deed.

GEN – (confused, rubbing her head) But you said…you wouldn’t…

VAL – I said I was too emotional to strike you…but a torch has no emotion now does it?

Gen growls, slowly getting back to her feet but before she can redirect her attack as her purple saber emerges once again from its slumber, Val has disappeared in the darkness.

VAL – Why do you love him! What logical reason is there! DID YOU NOT FORGET HE’S THE REASON YOU DIED IN THE FIRST PLACE!

GEN – (grins) One must die once…to understand the truth from a different point of view. Yes, I remember quite clearly that he killed me…and you know why he killed me Val? I was too blinded by YOU.

VAL – (speaks from the darkness) NO! You knew everything Gen. Wake up! You knew of Cire’s consistent jealousy, you had a choice…you made it!

GEN – I made a mistake Val…now its time I erased that mistake.

Gen’s eyes search through the darkness, as her purple lightsaber blade illuminates the cold focus of her eyes roaming…gazing over various sections of the throne room, nearest the main entrance of double doors. She looks through the flickering dim interior like a predator searching for its meal…there is neither love, nor remorse presented in her advances…only purpose.

Val watches her pass under him, from above one of the raised catwalks laid out across the upper levels of the room, waiting and listening, using the force to disguise the central focus of his voice. In his mind the images begin to continue on once more.

As the blurred vision plays on, past the consummation of Cire and Gen’s marriage, he can see her training in the room, fighting a duelist elite droid with precision and elegance. Each forward, two-handed swing of the droid, is countered by a rising, one handed parry from Gen’s dazzling purple lightsaber. Val’s eyes watching over the spectacle as the image flashes to Gen and Cire talking inside what looks to be some sort of conference room, light with both yellow and red hues, with an illuminated set of screens that surround the circular layout of the room, chairs encircling a massive holo projector in the middle. Beamed from the projector is the planet of Alpha Xeridia in green and a vibrant red dot marks the location of his mansion, under the red dot is the word “ISIS”.

Cire’s hand drapes along Gen’s waist as he shows her what appears to be footage of Val’s battles on various screens, using a illuminated pen that writes on them, similar to a sportscaster’s wand. Each stroke he makes shows strategy and apparent “flaws” in Val’s fighting styles and his opponents. Val’s mind blurs with confusion as she realizes that if Gen’s mind was wiped, then the new information planted in her was meant for only one purpose…to assassinate him.

Returning to the present, Val continues to watch Gen circle below him, moving behind various pieces of equipment and pillars, snapping her blade outward to jab through him, had he been in the spots, loud growls escaping her lips as she finds nothing but darkness and air. Val decides that if he can’t use his memories to sway her, he’d had to try another approach.

VAL – (calling from above) Gen! Focus your mind! Listen to the thoughts that I’ve given you, which you gave me! try to remember us…remember your power! The kiss Gen, the kiss tells all!

Gen closes her eyes a moment as she reflects upon the images racing through her mind. She sees the first time she kissed Val on the lips in that final duel for placement among the Dark Jedi, then the kiss in the forest as well…. their first time of lovemaking when he recovered from Crymson’s attack. Yet even with all these memories, they have no effect on her because it was very clear…these memories

Didn’t belong to her…

Closing her eyes and drawing on the force Gen’s lips part for a moment as she glares upward into the catwalk above. Val suddenly realizes that his force signature has been detected, running along the catwalk’s narrow pathway, as Gen chases down from below, then hurls herself with force enhanced speed into the air in a spinning front flip leap, landing in front of him. Her saber blade once again extends outward towards her target. This time however Val takes the offensive, with what little he can, rushing towards her, he waits for the right moment, staring towards her hand alone avoiding her eyes, knowing she will most likely think he’s dumb enough to run right into her blade, he grabs her wrist he flicks off her lightsaber, executing a devastating judo flip, locking Gen’s wrist back, then extending her arm, using his own body weight to flip her over his shoulder, propelling her body over the railing of the catwalk spiraling down into a pile of boxes below, crashing into them.

With the force as his guide and free of her spell for the moment, Val flips off the catwalk, spinning into a 360 forward flip, extending Obi Wan’s Second lightsaber as a the aura of sky blue forms a discus of energy around his body, halted to a line of radiance as he stands before Gen’s fallen body in front of him. Val’s eyes glare a moment as he absorbs the salvo of memories flooding his psyche. He finally managed to figure out one little detail about Gen…he couldn’t kill her but on the same token as before in his training days…he didn’t need to kill to win.

Gen stirs a bit, groaning as she absorbs the impact of the boxes into her body, her genetic advantage Cire had given her since her creation was a lighting fast attunement over the force. For knowledge, or defense, or attack…her body, which would have been at the very least broken in some manner from the height of her fall, was already fully recovered with force healing. Val banked his move on this theory; this is why he chose to break her spell in this manner. Had he not wagered on her abilities based on his visions of Crymson’s saber dealing a very vital blow to her body with little effect, he might have acted differently. Still blinded by love, Val tried his best to hold her off, and use this effect to his advantage, dealing damage if he must to by time, while making sure it was far too little to become fatal…this was his only option now, whether he wanted to fight her or not he was given no other choice.

GEN (getting to her feet) So you finally accept your fate…good.

VAL – (growls) I accept nothing! You of all people know I defy my fate and I will either break the spell that’s been put on you Gen or die trying…I will not let you fall again!

GEN – (shakes her head) Val, Val, Val…What you need to understand is I don’t care about your love…I don’t care about your dedication…all I care about is your demise.

Val swirls his blue lightsaber blade in a 360 manner, taking up a defensive stance as he watches Gen, fully recovered take a classic Form II stance, both feet planted with her body turned slightly away, blade pointed towards Val, while one hand lies along her side.

VAL – (glares) We shall see…one way or another one of us will have to accept the truth.

Gen quickly rushes towards Val, but this time as Val sidesteps he rakes his saber clean across her chest, as she gasps in amazement, using one hand to touch the fresh burned wound across her midsection, spinning away on one heel, glaring back towards her adversary, bringing her blade upwards in diagonal arched swing, as Val spins 180 around to counter the blade up into the air and lands another quick swipe of his saber across her left thigh. All the while Val’s eyes avoid Gen’s eyes and stare, focused on her wrists wrapped along the hilt of her deadly triangular pointed saber.

VAL – Gen you will remember damn it! If I have to bring you down to your knees before me and knock Cire’s spell clear out of you so be it…I’m not giving up but I’m sure as hell tired of being beaten up!

GEN – (grins as her wounds seal and disappear) From the moment I was conceived into this reality. I’ve lived and trained for the hunt…you are my prey.

Val cocks his neck to the side and pulls up his shoulders, flexing his muscles as he watches Gen getting ready to unleash her assault on him once more. In a flash of purple Gen rushes towards Val. Val instinctively lines himself up for another slash across her midsection, preparing to sidestep but this time Gen swerves to his right, and sweeps her saber blade towards his legs. Val leaps backward, and spins 180 around, sending his saber back, locking in a crackle of energy with Gen’s purple blade, both blue and violet crossing one another.

Feeling Gen’s awesome enhancement of strength, Val is forced to grip his lightsaber hilt with both hands, waiting for the right moment to shift his blade away from Gen’s advance, parry under and swipe across to her shoulder as she struggles to maintain her balance. To his surprise, Gen spins 180 to her left, turning off her lightsaber as Val is forced into the power of his parry, leaving him vulnerable, Gen knees him in the midsection, then grabs Val’s hand and extinguishes the blade finding the ignition plate. With both their blades turned off, Gen grabs Val by the throat and kisses him square on the lips, flooding him with more of the retched memories he’s been trying to ignore, leaving him distracted enough from their blinding speed, he then realizes that his lightsaber is no longer in his hands. Flashing his eyes back to reality, he locks dead on with Gen’s narrowed orbs, lost in their seduction, trying to break it as Gen’s hand grips her personal lightsaber in one hand, and Obi Wan’s in the other.

In a fit of desperation, Val forces himself to leap back, the impact of his clumsy maneuver sends him off balance, landing on the floor as Gen watches with interest above him.

GEN – You won’t be needing this…

Gen glances towards the massive fire pit to her right, hurling her hand backwards to toss Val’s lightsaber into it, but before she can catch her aim, Val yanks her body forward with a force pull, causing Gen to drop the lightsaber to the floor behind her as her arm lurches backward, releasing her grip too soon, its curved surfaces rolling the device to begin to roll further away.

Seizing this opportunity, Val channels the force into his legs and executes dashing speed and skill, while Gen is stunned, using his hands on her shoulders, he slams his boot into her chest and propels his body over her as she stands upright, front flipping forward to land on the floor, tucking into a roll grabbing his lightsaber into his hand and coming to a top ten feet away as Gen spins around recovering from the shock of the fast paced maneuver.

With his weapon back in his hand, Val stands to his full 6’1 height and re-ignites the shimmering length of his weapon, his eyes glaring towards Gen with renewed focus, once again towards her weapon and not her powerful gaze. I was becoming clearer by the minute that Val’s efforts were being wasted trying to “talk” sense into Gen, no longer depending upon the strategy; Val swallowed slowly and readied himself to fight what he cherished most.

The Gen Zeridian he fell in love with was lost behind the stronghold Cire had placed upon her, he had to make the choice to either let her decide his destiny with his emotion…or take destiny into his own hands and decide for himself.


[ Back to Main Story Page I To Part II ]


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