(part I)

"Five months now and there hasn’t been hide nor hair of The Killian.
I think it’s pretty safe to say that the worst is beyond us."

VC -  Resurgence Alpha


Shock, disbelief, anger, sadness and hatred filled the tear pooled eyes of Gen Zeridian that fateful day she took her breath anew. Here she had defied the rules of life and death, found some how, some way to shatter the boundaries and prove that through everything, all the years distanced between them, Val and Gen’s love refused to end, refused to die like a flame reaching the end of the candle’s wick.

Yet would fate be so cruel? What punishment must these two star crossed lovers endure before they can freely embrace each other’s arms once again? What would it take to appease the guardians of the force? Was Gen right, did they give her back her soul at the price of her lover’s embrace?

All Gen could do was stare down at the blood stained features of her “beloved”, a nickname she gave to one soul and one soul only. Val has endured pure, agonizing hell from the scorching sizzle of Cire’s lightsaber to the razor sharp edge of his deadly Sith Sword, bathed in his own crimson essence. The moment you see was far beyond past, but like her death’s sequence played out night after night in Val’s tortured dreams, so now did Gen possess a scene that would replay itself until time sought to end it.

Valaryc Versai was clearly robbed, for all of his efforts to correct the mistakes of his past he was still robbed of the one thing in the entire universe he craved, Gen by his side as his wife for all time.


Worry not, for the story has not yet reached its final act. Although Val has to contend with his own battle to break the venomous spell placed upon his body, evil it would seem is no so easily vanquished. Cire and Vachon would never return from their slumber, a dark side wielder can escape the jaws of death into a living host but one time in a 24 hour period. Both mother and son leaped too quickly and for such actions their souls were completely lost in the void, never to return.

Who then would evil choose to do its bidding? Consider that while most of the battle was focused upon the cold grip of space between Foe Raker, Lance Jade, and Draven and the very balance of power was raged within the now decimated Killian Citadel, that maybe just maybe there was one piece of the puzzle that refused to take its place with the other interwoven events of Cire’s plans and Val’s wishes.

Travel back now to the heated battle within an abandoned Hanger Bay. Minutes seem like seconds, Tula’s body instantly vanquished by Michael Angilis. One shot to the head and her life ends, likewise Jenner’s blaster riddled corpse splashes in a plethora of blood stained pools of water where latent creatures surround the body and await their feast.

Here is where there are no flashes of lighting, no hails of gunfire any longer. No clashing of shimmering gold and green blades, no detonating bombs. A new battle wages between the underdog and a swarm of angry creatures as they loom closer and closer to the defender.

Jenner’s eyes widen to small pupils from the blinding shower of crimson red energy raging from Lance’s very well loaded weapon. Lance’s eyes flash with satisfaction as he empties the entire power pack on auto fire as Jenner staggers helpless without force enhanced speed to dodge the bolts tearing into his shoulders, arms, legs, chest, and the last vision he sees as his body tumbles towards the right while the bolts of coherent energy cleave through his body is the last shot in Lance’s barrel pass right between his eyes and back out through his skull.

Slumped on the floor, smoke rose from his blaster riddled corpse.

Quillion’s Apprentice…the terror that had haunted the walls of Versai Tech over the last couple months was finally defeated in one blaze of red fury from a hero who proved to be more then what he had seemed.

Jenner was dead.

Or was he?

Shock gripped Jenner’s body as the heated red shafts passed through his form, knocking him closer and closer to his final resting place, a plummet no one could possibly survive. There was one lesson however that Jenner learned from his Master before departing upon his orders to assassinate the members of the Versai Tech board.


With a flick of his wrist in desperation, Jenner did not attempt to stop the bolts ripping through him, for he knew even riddled with such injuries, steel was stronger. Countless injuries had befallen those before him, limbs were lost and easily replaced with cybernetic enhancements, there was that possibility…that gamble he had to take.

Summoning up his power within, letting his body yield the fury of Lance’s blaster, Jenner summoned up his dark mastery over the force to put up a wall of illusion within Lance Jade’s unprotected mind. He planted the seed in Michael’s as well, that last bolt that passed through his eye, coming clear through the end of his skull?

Was a lie…

There was no finishing shot, there was no final blow. Jenner had allowed the force of the blaster bolts to knock him backward as he smiled with delight hurling to the waterway stretching closer and closer to his field of view, glancing forward, never giving a second thought to the distance above.

With his eyes closed now, he accepted whatever destiny lay before him, he knew that his Master could sense his presence, even at this great of a distance. Jenner was Cire’s right hand man, his only true apprentice…this is what you must now realize.

Cire knew he had a backup plan, he knew if his body was crushed, mangled, and torn apart by Val’s wrath he would emerge into a new clone body and return to fight another day. What he did not know was that fate itself would send him to his maker once and for all, even with the hum of the lightsaber echoing in his ears, his eyes widened from the explosion, but his face kept its sadistic grin.

Why? Did death amuse Cire? Was he laughing at the pure irony of being defeated by the very icon of the Jedi religion through his long lost weapon?


Cire had sent one transmission before his demise, before Obi Wan’s lightsaber reached the final click of its mechanical sequence leading to its detonation, Cire crawled to a control panel and typed in a command, that was sent just before all hell broke loose.

He knew there was no way for him to carry on his plans, there was no escape from the fire this time and he accepted his fate by handing over his mission to another…the receiver of the message would carry out his final command, no matter the cost.

That command read…








In a hellish blaze of light, the Killian Citadel exploded from the inside out, Luxor armor shattering like plates of glass. Cire left his curse on Val before he departed the world of the living, he made sure that Val even if it was only to be temporary would join him in the darkness.

Where did the command go? What possible location could retrieve such a message? How would they even understand what it meant? Here is where we must return back to the watery grave Jenner has been condemned to.

The splash of his blaster ridden corpse shatters several bones in his body, Jenner hangs on to life by a thread…motionless, nearing his final breath. The creatures angered by their shock treatment move in for the kill, swarming and gathering more and more in number then suddenly they strike!

Jenner lacks the energy to scream, as his left leg is sheared from his body, torn away by two razor sharp toothed creatures who fight over possession of his torn limb. His left arm is next to be ravaged, snapped off like a twig, and greedily distanced by an eager creature not willing to compete with the others.

With pain spreading through his doused body like wildfire, Jenner closes his eyes and channels the force through what is left of his body, using his still present midiclorians.

Suddenly bolts of lighting shear through the surface of the water, the creatures have no chance or hope of evading the electricity gripping their bodies, electrocuting the water and Jenner’s body as well and yet even with the sizzling barrage of energy invading the liquid tomb, Jenner’s form seems unaffected. The creatures scream in utter agony and then suddenly the 30 corpses of these carnivorous beings float along the surface of the stilled pool, motionless.

Jenner’s body floats as well, as his chest barely raises and falls. Soon it has floated far beyond the opened bay doors of docking back J-1198, passing beyond a bend in the water’s artificial crevasse then moving swifter and swifter downstream.

It is then, several days would pass. Jenner was stabilized only by the creatures he encountered, some getting a few more bites off his heavily damaged body, before he cut them down, using the power known as “Drain Life Essence”, for a Master this power would be relatively easy to unleash upon innocent souls but Jenner would have to settle for the limited energies he could gather from the creatures that encountered him as he continued floating down stream for weeks, it wouldn’t be until the Killian Citadel was no longer and his master had fallen weeks later and when he was at the crest of his last breath, having drained countless species life essences that his one sign of hope would come in the form of the distant sound of engines drawing closer and closer.

He figured that the ship would spot him, baring a VT logo and blast him into oblivion but it was the lack of seeing anything at all that enticed his senses. The roar of engines grew louder and louder, and two beams of light pierced the night sky seemingly out of thin air, as spotlights shone down upon the silvery ripples of the waterway. Jenner knew the familiar roar of the engines, the high pitched squeal of thrusters hovering above. It was his liberation, with that last uncertainty laid to rest, Jenner did the only function left in his power to do; he laughed...Jenner’s eyes, one reduced to sightlessness glared upward to the spotlights, seeing his vision washed in a blinding brilliance…his laughter increased from a shallow rasp to a boisterous roar of satisfaction HAH HAH HAH HAH!

Then there was darkness.

Four months passed…

Val was housed protectively within the secured medical wing of Versai Tech. Gen had stayed by his side constantly and had absolutely refused to return back to the Versai Mansion until he had awoken. Foe and Marc Jade had stuck around as long as they could but business had to eventually go on. The VT fleet was in absolute ruins from their battle with the near-unbeatable Shadow Serpents. If it had not been for Foe Raker’s involvement in seeing that the recipe for Luxor armor was tainted, it was very possible Lance would have never returned to free his love interest, Sara Versai.

Sara was haunted night after night by dreams of her carbonite tomb. She had seen Quillion’s sadistic mask come off and had seen Cire’s true face grimace to her before she was dropped, literally dropped like a piece of defective machinery into the carbonite freezing chamber. With a rush of intense cold, her vision plunged to darkness.

Sara, Isis, whatever you want to refer to her as, had known what it felt to be trapped in a world devoid of light and now she had to watch her brother contend with the same prison. Months had passed and finally having no choice, Sara and Lance departed VT, leaving Val in Gen constant and the medical professionals care. Regardless of the bravery Val had shown his friends with the sacrifices that he made, Lance knew Val would kick his butt in gear if he did not keep his company running in his absence.

Gen held no such commitments. Her entire existence was formed around the man laying unconscious in the bed to her left with eyes closed…body surrounded in various wires, tubes, and other stabilization equipment. She damned the guardians of the force each time she closed her eyes. How could they let a man of such intense nobility and courageous spirit fall to something as morally crushing as being poisoned? The thought never once crossed her mind that Val would not eventually wake from the spell weaved upon him. Against all possible odds, even beyond Cire’s lustful intentions Gen Zeridian, the REAL Gen Zeridian had risen from the clutches of death, she knew if she could have such a aggressive hold on life, Val who was three times as stubborn as she ever could be would find a way to come back to her.

Val had waited 25 years for her…

She would wait an eternity for him…

Lance Jade was still active President of VT, as such he continued to make sure that the chain of command in Versai Tech was not broken. Business continued as usual and research and development had once again begun improved methods of security so that the secrets of Luxor Armor or any of its other exclusive inventions would not be stolen again.

There were no more moles in VT. If someone wanted to steal its technology it would have to get past its newly constructed and highly guarded towers. Installed were two titanic planetary turbo laser emplacements that would instantly destroy any vessel that attempted to invade VT again. After the loss of life from the toppling of its towers by the Shadow Serpent invasion, Versai Tech was no longer just a Corporate Headquarters, it was by all means from its 100+ weapon emplacements, hidden and visible

 A fortress...

What then has become of Sara? With her name established as a true Versai and heir to her family’s massive fortune, Sara decided to build her and the newly established love interest Lance Jade a place far away from the press, or the responsibilities of business, completely protected but also entirely secluded. She had built a luxurious château, this location was dubbed, “Adega” based upon a firm foundation overlooking a vibrant ice blue ocean. Just as the crystals of the same name minus an “n” are fixed in a firm and solid foundation, Adega was nestled upon a cliff side that appeared natural from its fabrications but in reality was 50% artificially constructed to attain the highest level of stability in any situation, likewise there were hidden shield generators placed around the building, that could be engaged by a flip of a switch, vanquishing any chance of an invasion, either from above or below. Adega was Lance’s answer to Val’s Versai Mansion, just as elegantly designed to blend in with its surrounding environment and just like his best friend’s dwelling, Adega contained several concealed weapons should anyone attempt to disturb its peaceful existence.

Here is where Sara spent her days attending to the various grounds, she too had droids to handle most of the work, none as complex or as unique as Sacul mind you, but enough to keep her occupied while Lance handled his duties at Versai Tech. Sara also had direct camera feeds into Val’s hospital room on Tulaab and living servants and guards could rush her into a shuttle, should she need to do so. Though these months, nothing of the kind arouse, Val continued to slumber undisturbed and unaware of the changes happening around him as months drifted by.

Over time, Sara and Lance’s love for each other grew stronger. It couldn’t really be explained what exactly drew them together specifically, was it truly love at first site the moment Lance freed Sara from the carbonite block or was there a seed planted the first time Lance saw Sara arrive, poisoned from Tibannopolis?

Whatever the spark was, fireworks erupted between the blonde, green eyed vixen and the dashing, neatly trimmed President of Versai Tech. With their bonds buried deep, Sara loved Lance with all her heart and soul, aside from her fierce loyalty to her brother Sara comforted the lack of Val’s smirk she had grown to love during her short time with him at the Versai Mansion in Lance’s powerful, comforting and secure embrace when he managed to take time off from his work to be with her.


As Lon Wol and Foe Raker train upon the grounds of the Versai Mansion and Corrie and Kalin pilot through the reaches of space to their own agendas, darkness would sweep over the happy existence of everyone who was involved in the Killian’s destruction.

Did you forget about the message? You must be thinking now who received it and who retrieved Jenner? What could possibly remain of The Killian? The answer is very little of its original followers remain but the truth is that Cire commanded his forces beyond the reach of his Citadel, for far away on another distance planet containing the same pirated UNITRAC encoding equipment stolen from Versai Tech plans the final message of their leader was received not by a man, but a highly intelligent creature possessing razor sharp claws, scaly green skin and piercing reptilian eyes. He understood how to communicate with the human’s dialect, likewise he was domesticated like the rest of his small band of species who even now scurry about like rates, scrambling and scowling as they watch the complete destruction of the Killian Citadel through a pirated signal in one of the VT landing craft cameras.

The Citadel you see still stood beyond the vibrant end of Cire, but after everything inside the building was confiscated, tagged, cataloged and taken from the premises, long after Val, Gen, Lance, Lon, Marc and Foe left the grounds, in a final order given by President Jade from space, the craft allowed the creatures to witness the Citadel’s complete annihilation by a planetary bombardment of blaster fire from above.

So ended Quillion and his Killian Order on THAT planet.

Little did anyone realize that there were in fact TWO Citadels constructed, but the Citadel that resided upon this dismal, weather torn planet was formed entirely different from its main predecessor. Quillion had demanded nothing but the best, and to achieve his demands there had to be a test facility built before his grand palace could be finalized, this “Site B” as it were would now become the new foundation for The Killian regime.

High above the land, housed in the thundering peaks of jagged rocks and wicked mountain ranges, hidden from view by holographic projectors and the most state of the art jamming equipment, the second Killian stronghold rested, unfinished and hollow for the moment, with only enough constructed to survive and test Quillion’s needs.

The fortress was entirely open, save for the holographic projectors shielding its location from view. One side of the roof had been completely constructed, fitted with Luxor Armor plating, but the other side of the ceiling consisted of metal beams and open air. Entering a series of scaffolding from what would have been a main walkway, to your left everything is completely built and functional but to your right, nothing but perilous unfinished floors, gantry ways, catwalks, bare and exposed walls and skeleton like shapes stood.

Hardly a threat right?


The threat that resided here now was miles below the unfinished architecture, strapped to a table with magnetic clamps holding its body in place as these creatures roamed the floors dressed like humans only in their clothing appearances, save for any form of footwear. The scene moves in closer as we pass beyond plums of fog and showers of sparks, flickering strobes of white flashes from some workers wielding parts into place. Looming in the darkness, latched to the table we can see tattered cloth, stained with mud and shredded to the point most of the material hangs like patches of seaweed, lifeless and drooping. Moving upward beyond the moss like material, we can see several burns in the cloth, where blasters have passed through it.

Glancing higher, we suddenly see from the left, a flash of blinding light and hear the clinking grind of steel colliding with steel, a echo of arch wielding rings in our ears barely making out the constitution of a fully motorized series of bolts, wires, and solid steel framing, servos embedded within before our eyes are once again blinded by another flash of white hot sparks.

It is then we come to the most disturbing site of all, although there is no blood or flesh hanging from the structure, we can see that on the left, there is a fully mechanical, highly polished metallic structure of a human skull, with various portions of metal plating coming together to give perfect from to the arch of an eye cavity, clear down to a hollowed recess of a nostril. On the right, if you were to completely cover the left you would find a human face, with its eye closed and only patches of the metallic left capping over the facial features of the right side of the figure’s head structure. There we still cannot yet recognize who this person is, with the windows to the soul closed as the shadowy form does show us that this figure may have at one time possessed hair from the scalp, but now was rendered completely bald.

We move backward as we start to see the pieces of this “puzzle” come together. Along the left there is pure glints of silver metal and reflections outlining the highlights of mechanically crafted muscle structures and bone extensions, even down to a stone cold, steel pin and bar constructed hand, the fingers lying motionless for the time being.

Around us there are blue lights flickering from various equipment, as well as neon ice blue lights trailing along the floor boards of the walls, leaving everything we see in a monochromatic spectrum of blue shadows, midtones, and highlights all weaving through a series of illuminated fiber optic wiring to the figure strapped to the vertical table.

Suddenly the view jerks to the left as a creature speaks in some high pitched unrecognizable language, while another looms over a computer console. With a nod one lizard-like creature raises a razor sharp, claw to the other and a flash of light illuminates the room in blinding white.

Then….everything goes dark….

The entire scene is plagued to black; there are no more lights…only the sound of breathing and the scurrying click of clawed feet tapping into metal floors. Suddenly there is a hiss of mechanical gears grinding, although we can see nothing around us.
A single red light emits from where the figure stood, hanging lifeless. The red light gets more intense as we zoom inwards to it, seeing from the sheer brilliance of the crimson luminance that it’s coming from the left side of the mechanical skull we saw earlier. Another flash of white light suddenly gives us just a glimpse of the figure’s synthetic hand moving, another flash we can see the hand curl into a fist with a hiss of mechanized anger….another flash and the human eye opens, to reveal a deep brown.

Before we can place exactly who or what the figure is, knowing only by its contours that it was once…human we can assume the worst from its earth shattering cry.


Suddenly it is all too clear as a figure walks towards the captive mechanical monstrosity. Its eyes yellow and narrowed like a cat, while its body remains concealed mostly behind one of the signature Killian garbs of a jet black robe, while extensions from its nostrils, fork like tongues slither to enhance its approach, while its clawed fingers shear through a pair of gray gloves looming closer towards the angered puppet.

VOICE – (slight speech impediment) No…Lance Jade no longer mattersss. Masssster has been defeated. You he said seek, seek you out we have, followed misssion we were told. Retrieve…rebuild…successor…you Lord Jenner, successor.

JENNER – (half mechanical, half true voice) Who are you…what have you done to me?

VOICE – I’ve followed massster’s orders, my name is Skel. I and my pack are outcast from Ssi Ruukk taken in by Lord Quillion to ssserve his needsss. In charge of this place I was. You are Master now, you must fulfill Lord Quillion’s wisssshes.

JENNER – Then I am as predicted…improved?

SKEL – Master Jenner hasss been restored as commanded, rebuilt as commanded. Leader we mussst have, leader shall you be. Seek revenge you must.

As the lights slowly flicker on Jenner glances to his restraints, and with his sheer will much to his surprise he uses the force to easily tear them from his body, dropping him to the floor with a thundering CLANG. Jenner finds that he’s still not yet able to walk, so he crawls to a console and straights himself looming like a massive shadow over the one called Skel.

JENNER –  I can still use the force? How?

SKEL – Massster Jenner is only half machine. You much like Lord Vader of old, still contain the abilitiesss to master the force and still function as for most part…human.

JENNER – Human? Weakness…as a human Lance Jade was able to defeat me. No longer will I rely on such limitations. You wish revenge? Done.

SKEL – Patience Lord Jenner, firssst we must rebuild. Crippled we are and power we have not. Leader we may now possess but no posssition to fight we are.

Jenner smiles towards Skel wickedly, staring to him with one good eye and one blazing red eye encircled inside a shadowed metal socket. Using the force more and more easily as his body returns to consciousness, Jenner can feel his attributes of strength and speed begin to build him to a point he can now walk under his own power. Within moments Jenner understands that the mechanics of his body are all wired into his neural senses, by his thoughts he can move his arm and leg almost unconsciously. Soon it as if all of the cybernetic reconstruction isn’t even there as he glances towards the right and promptly tears off the last of his hanging clothes from his battle with Lance, wrapping a jet black robe around his shoulders, concealing all of his body, save for the mechanical hand of pure chrome metal jetting out of one sleeve, and the hood drawn along his shoulders where we can see that Jenner’s reconstructed skull is exposed from the socket of his eye, upwards along his forehead to just below the hairline, capping his skull, then disappears into grafted patches of skin that form the left side of his neck, into his shoulder area. Without the robe, and completely naked Jenner would have almost his entire left side made of shimmering chrome, while his right side retained his flesh and natural muscle, despite the blaster damage all of the entry points were restored, yet still scars remained upon his taut skin.

For our viewing purposes, he’s best left covered up.

SKEL – Come Lord Jenner, we’ve much to discusss, before vengeance can be unleashed, prepared we musssst be.

JENNER – So be it Skel. If you insist on my leadership then…

Jenner glances towards the blood stained remains of his battle attire used against Lance Jade, then cranes his gaze upward to a Killian insignia painted upon a dusty, weathered wall panel.

“Let the Resurgence Begin.”

Versai Chronicles “Deception” - Chapter XIV – Resurgence

One Month Later…


The scene opens upon the glittering ice blue waters of a vast ocean stretching far beyond the eye can see. Above deep blue clouds gather, ominously shifting to deeper and deeper levels of gray and black masses; hovering over an elegantly crafted series of buildings. As the clouds gather overhead, and the winds outside grow into stronger gusts, crashing the waves against a high Cliffside, inside the tallest of the series of buildings, another more somber act is playing out.

Traveling along the base of the cliff, moving through a expanse of trees and bushes and climbing the marble white, textured walls of the main building in a configuration of structures known as “Adega”, the view slowly zooms through a series of semi-transparent curtains, entering a deep darkness that is illuminated by rows of soft, omni like light areas of flickering candlelight. Looking back towards the exterior of this candlelight room, where the clouds continue to gather, we can see that there is a balcony that stretches outward, towards an gracefully crafted series of railing, leading to a breathtaking view of the ocean stretching endlessly, while sinking back into the romantic essence inside what we can determine by its vast size and various pieces emplacements of storage units, luxurious light fixtures, and most importantly a queen sized bed wrapped in the most highest quality white silk bedding, that this is Sara and Lance’s Master Bedroom and for the moment, with the dancing series of lights casting shadows upon two moving figures within the bed, Lance and Sara are united after a long period of separation due to the responsibilities of running Versai Tech.

Sara glances to Lance through half closed, emerald green eyes as her chosen lover kisses her tenderly on the lips, intertwining his fingers with her own delicate digits. Sara is straddling Lance’s body as he lays flat, propped up against a headboard, unlacing his fingers from Sara’s enough to wrap his arms around her body and draw her curves deep into his bare chest. She is of course clothed for the moment, though one might debate on the thin line between clothed and merely “wrapped” as Sara is wearing a semi-sheer “teddy” like gown that enhances every curve of her femininity. The sound of thunder can be heard in the distance as her eyes break from their deep, romantic spell casting her gaze towards the balcony window. Sara waves her hand quickly, casting a slightly annoyed look on her face as she uses the force to slam shut a pair of finely framed, fairly thick glass doors. With the doors shut, the sound of the thunder grows dull while Sara’s moans reverberate through the room, savoring the touch of her lover’s skin pressed against her body.

After a series of deep, passionate kisses, Lance slowly pulls his lips back, caressing Sara’s hips while he speaks to her, telling her how much he cares for her every motion, her scent invigorating his senses and her curvaceous figure igniting his desire for her. Sara doesn’t need to hear Lance speak she can already sense through the force what she does to the man. She takes great pride in knowing she can, if she wanted wrap Lance around her finger, but this is something Sara might have pursued several months ago before the darkness…before the tomb of carbonite.

Being plunged into that metallic sarcophagus did something to her; it forced her to accept that at her very core when push came to shove she was still a little girl who could not contend with the power of neither Crymson nor Quillion. However, having faced this reality made Sara even stronger, and more mature then she used to be. At one point Sara wasn’t too secure in her own abilities and she lacked a sense of self confidence, a vulnerability that left her at the mercy of her captives. Lance, from the moment she regained her sight due to the “hibernation sickness” had helped her achieve all that she desired, to be stronger, to fight harder, and most of all to feel secure and safe.

Sara was no longer the scared, daddy’s girl she used to be. Sara was a woman, she held power and responsibility over Adega and over her love Lance Jade, with all the prestigious recognition and perks that came with being the fiancée of a President.

 For the moment however, responsibility and duty was far off the minds of both souls, wrapped in tendrils of smooth silk. After a month of separation, Lance had attained the right to take his vacation, and let the new board of directors headed by Michael Angilis handle VT affairs.

SARA – (purring) Mmmm my lover how I have missed these moments. The last time I felt your arms around me this close was the moment I first laid eyes on you in that horrible Citadel.

LANCE – (cuddling  Sara) Shhhh, don’t even mention that place. The Killian are no more, their leader was vanquished by your brother remember? Right now let’s not waste another moment on such things.

SARA – (nodding) How about we attend to another subject then? Something more…involved.

Sara smiles flirtatiously to Lance and starts to slowly grind her hips along his chest, roaming her fingers down his abs, and up along his pecs, sensually massaging Lance’s bare skin as he drapes his arms back, resting his head on them, smiling broadly, following her every motion with his blue eyes.


While Sara and Lance enjoy one another’s company, outside of the bedroom where candles flicker a spell of somber calmness, gazing upward we can see that the clouds have shifted to a deep black, and it isn’t long before the first bolt of lightning tears through the night sky. With a powerful boom, thunder echoes across the horizon, while we gaze downward and notice that among the pearly white columns of architecture, along a ledge a black shadow seems to come alive, slowly moving but for the moment undetectable as to its details.

Another flash of lightning literally rips through the skyline, streaking in intense arcs of white, splitting off into smaller sharply curved extensions, before plunging downward, striking the ground, though nothing is damaged as thunder cracks through the air. Another bolts comes soon after, unleashing its fury and this time the bolt’s illumination lasts long enough to catch a clear glimpse of the figure’s details, though again we can’t get concise triangulation on the specifics of the figure we can tell the specific color scheme of the shadow, which is primarily black, orange, with hints of red. Another interesting detail from the glimpse, the figure wears a Scout Trooper helmet, but there is no white on his costume adding to the intrigue as the bolt’s light flickers away.

Another bolt rips through the sky but this time, the form is no longer along the terrace, below the balcony, like a spider it seems to hurl its body into the air and attach itself to a near by rooftop, which rests a slight 45 degree angle from the entryway of the Master Bedroom balcony doors. From the vantage point, which is also elevated higher then the balcony level, we can only see the flickering of yellowish lights and the dancing of shadows.

The figure positions itself upon another ledge, reaching for a long barreled object from its back. With another flash of lighting actually nearer to Adega, slamming into a grounding lightning rod, the shape becomes completely illuminated, adding to our previous views this time we can make out the exact, same armor plate pattern of Val’s ancient Bounty Hunting gear, in fact we can also make out the signature “trident dart launcher” square shaped knee pads. Although there is that striking difference that this carbon copy replica of Val’s ancient armor is there is no white, green, or brown…the entire outfit is again in the color scheme of black, orange, and red and there is also a foreign insignia upon the shoulder pads of this particular figure’s armor configuration.

The individual wearing the orange and red Scout Trooper helmet establishes itself in a laying down position, extending its arms out, using one to grip the handle of an elongated Blastech E-11 Imperial rifle, with the arm along the base of the barrel slid back, paralleling the extension of the figure’s arm. Rain begins to pour down from the heavens as the intruder adjusts a scope atop the weapon, lining up the barrel of the viewfinder with a portion of its mask, now completely covering the back of the scope from view.

Suddenly as the invader lines up his shot, a bolt of lighting strikes inches from him, shattering a piece of tile roofing in a hail of short lived particles as the rain falls. The sound of the impact echoes through the walls of the nearby buildings and does not escape the attention of the two occupants in the Master Bedroom.


As Lance and Sara writhe along one another’s bare skin, Sara still firmly straddling her lover’s sides, something inside beckons her to break off Lance’s roaming tongue, curling just below her neckline, leading down further as his hands grasp her semi-sheer covered breasts.

SARA – Lance, stop I think I heard something…

Lance, caught up in his lust to please his blonde haired vixen, after being denied physical sensual contact at first does not hear Sara’s request, so she makes it a point to pull his hands away as they delve beyond her gown, touching bare, heated curves.

SARA – No Lance I’m serious…there’s something out there.

Lance takes a deep breath and slowly relinquishes his desires as his hands fall down and caress Sara’s bare, silky white thighs in a comforting but understanding manner, directing his blue gaze into her shimmering emerald orbs, he too feels a nagging inner tug on his senses. Leaning in close and kissing Sara’s tender lips, Lance smoothes one of this hands through her golden tresses, as he arches back against the headboard of the queen sized bed.

LANCE – (winks) It’s ok Sara, just the storm outside. Lightning hits over here all the time, you of all people know that, you had the lightning rods put in remember?

Sara’s eyes wander over to the two closed glass doors, as she attempts to gaze through the curtains out through the balcony and into the darkness, another flash of lighting shearing through the night air, causing enough of a disturbance to cause a light fixture to flicker.

Returning her gaze back towards Lance, her fingers slide into his and interlace lovingly.

SARA – I guess I just haven’t…accepted that it’s all over. Aside from Val being in his coma, I just have this feeling.

LANCE – (hugging Sara close) Honey, we’ve been through this countless times, it’s been what? Five months now and there hasn’t been hide nor hair of The Killian. I think it’s pretty safe to say that the worst is beyond us.

Sara nods slowly, curling back into Lance’s arms, smoothing her fingers along his back, tracing his spine with a touch that sends shivers down his back.

SARA – I guess…I guess you’re right I mean honestly, with the training you’ve been giving me I shouldn’t be afraid of anything they should be afraid of me.

LANCE – (winks) Well there ya go then ya big bad Isis cat you! Come here and let’s see how bad you really are.

Sara glances towards the window again, then cranes her eyes back to Lance, licking his lips like a kitten, nuzzling his shoulder then whispers into his ear.

SARA – (whispering) Well then cowboy, let’s see how you handle this ride.


As Sara begins to envelope her seductive spell over “Mr. President”, outside having escaped detection by the nearby collision of the sky with the synthetic world of concrete and steel, the figure waits a few moments hoping for a break in the rain, but it has no such luck as the clouds above are torn open, causing a horrendous downpour of rain to completely saturate everything in its path. The figure growls within the confines of its helmet, seeing everything in shades of a monochromatic red-orange hue. Adjusting its arm out once more, again it aligns the site of its blaster up with its intended target, waiting for the right moment as the mask allows this ominous assailant to see EVERYTHING going on in the bedroom, although without clear detail, he sees two warm blooded figures, presented in a brilliant reddish white silhouette rhythmically grind against each other, a smile coming to the stranger’s lips behind the mask knowing the exact nature of the rhythmic sensual gyrations.

For the first time we now can see what motivates this figure’s intentions here, from the gun and careful aim we can easily assume that whatever the figure wishes to do, it is anything but peaceful. It was still a mystery though, who the attacker was really after, much less the motivation of the assault. Was it a mission? Was it vengeance? Was it to make a name for itself?

FIGURE – (whispering to itself) Oh yes savor it princess…capture the moment. Perfect timing, you leave yourself so open, so willing…such easy prey.


As the rain blankets the roof, growing louder and louder, it is successful in overcoming the intensity of Sara and Lance’s cries of passion, disturbing enough also that the same feeling Sara felt before washes over her once more, this time however the feeling grows stronger in Lance, a “danger sense” as it were. While Sara undulates her creamy thighs around Lance’s pelvic region, enveloping him inside her passionate heat, his eyes roll back in pleasure, but quickly his attention returns to the window, as time seems to slow down for the moment, there is a item of particular interest capturing his gaze.

LANCE – (labored words) You see Sara? There’s no one here but you, me, and these elegant candles.

While the moment is invigorating and extremely pleasing for Lance, his relaxation turns to tension, watching that object, roam its way across his clothes spread out in various directions along the floor, sweeping a red luminescence over the shiny silk of Sara’s intimate undergarments, then the dot disappears momentarily, appearing once more trailing at the foot of the bed. Lance’s eyes glance towards Sara, then the blood red, intense dot moving closer and closer. Again his blue gaze shoots upward, then back to the bed, to Sarah then the bed, Sara then the bed. When the dot disappears from his view, he knows exactly where it has gone.

In the midst of her building heat, Lance has no choice but to suddenly kick Sara down with all of his strength, causing her to topple off the bed and hit the floor, seconds before a blazing bolt of crimson energy sizzles through the sliding glass door, impacting in a small burst of singed wood into the headboard. Without a second thought, Lance reaches over and grabs his gold plated DL-44 blaster, training his eyes on the window as the red dot locks on to the back of Sara’s head.


Suddenly the passionate moment of their conjoined lovemaking is brought to a drastic halt as Sara ducks, then growls and reaches for her lightsaber, still wearing only her semi-sheer attire, clearly not in the mood nor the proper garb to wage a battle.

Lance slowly crawls along the floor, seeing that the red dot no longer tries to “snipe” its prey, becoming a game of cat and mouse and he grabs Sara shortly before another barrage of blaster fire shears through the still in tact blaster riddled glass. Lance aims his blaster and fires in desperation into the glass as well, into the darkness hoping to hit something, as neither can see nor are aware of the intruder’s position in the furious storm.


Lance growls as the red dot sweeps across the room and the single shot blaster suddenly unloads a strafing pattern of semi-automatic blaster fire. Grabbing Sara and kicking over a few tables in the large interior of the Master Bedroom, Sara and Lance see their elegant bed shredded by an angry salvo of crimson hellfire, as the pillows fly almost into the air from the impacts of the energy bolts shearing clean through the mattress as fabric stuffing. Lance and Sara shrink away from the table, as its steel structure withholds the deadly barrage of hellfire from reaching them, ducking behind the steel object as white hot sparks shoot across their heads.


The intruder stands on the terrace, boldly neglecting to hide its position as it holds the Imperial rifle in its hands, unloading the entire clip into the Master Bedroom, through walls, glass, wood, anything that gets in its way hell bent on completing its goal.

When the blaster rifle suddenly jams, the figure isn’t fast enough to stop blindly aimed bolts of ruby red, fired from Lance’s powerful DL-44 from impacting the center of its armor, as it topples back from the collision of the shots, though protected from damage as its armor absorbs the punishment. This time through its helmet it can see Lance behind the dual glass, blaster riddled doors firing blindly but accurately, as the figure topples backward, careening off into the darkness, blasted clear off the terrace into endless void below the structure, vanishing from sight.


Lance glances outside looking towards the damaged terrace where the intruder stood, closing his eyes using the force to sense if the invader had any signs of life. Smiling broadly, he spins his DL-44 around like a cowboy would, in a few 360 rotations, then holsters his weapon, as Sara cautiously comes to stand beside him.

SARA – It was aiming for ME! There’s only one faction out there that would give a damn about Isis Surul!

LANCE – (peering out in the darkness) Now don’t go jumping to conclusions Sara, there’s no reason to believe that gun toting nerf herder has anything to do with The Killian. Besides whoever it was, there’s no trace of them now.

Lance smoothes his fingers along his neatly trimmed head, grasping his forehead in thought, deciding to open the dual doors and step out onto the balcony, which though having come under heavy fire, still maintained its integrity.

Sara slowly paces away from the balcony, walking over to a security panel whispering in a few commands as the computer commences a full scan of Adega’s parameter. A few moments pass and the computer tells her there is no unauthorized movement within the grounds and that all accessible threats have been removed. Shrugging her shoulders and keeping her lightsaber close she begins to walk back over towards Lance who enters the room and closes the dual doors once more, perhaps more out of habit then anything else as the many holes in the high integrity glass has made it impossible for the doors to keep the cold air out of the room.

LANCE – What did it say?

SARA – The defense grid reads all clear, no threats detected.

Lance smiles broadly, and then turns his back to the window flashing a wide grin as he gestures with his hands, palms up, fingers curled, apart from one another. The room goes quiet once again as the candles flicker softly, while the rain outside slows its downpour to a light tapping upon the roof.

LANCE – See? Nothing to worry about.

Suddenly Lance is tackled from behind, and falls forward as the intruder crashes through the two dual doors, shattering glass and wood in every direction like deadly shrapnel destroying what little integrity the units had left. The figure lifts its visor towards Lance and pulls back the trigger on its rifle, aiming directly at Lance on the floor, who narrowly rolls out of the way to the far right as the blaster bolt shears into the carpet, sending sparks sizzling upward. Aiming for a second shot, the fiery hued opponent continues to unload his blaster as Lance keeps rolling away from the barrage of fire, narrowly escaping being shot, as the missed bolts rake the floor behind him, tracking his every moment.


It isn’t until there is a flash of emerald light from Sara’s lightsaber that the invader dressed in Val’s full fledged Scout Trooper, Mandalorian mixed armor becomes aware of Sara’s presence, in a flurry of flickering sparks his Imperial Rifle is instantaneously severed into two halves. Moving just its masked head with a sharp jerk towards Sara, the hunter is able to dodge a downward, vertical slash from Sara’s deadly blade, missing its chest by mere inches.

With expert precision and blinding speed that would rival the forced enhanced speed of any known Jedi, the advisory drops to its knees and sweeps its left foot into a powerful blow to Sara’s calf from behind when Sara’s blade is held low causing her to lose her balance and plunge her vibrant emerald blade into the floor, and with the hilt hitting the ground, instantly heating the entire surface below their feet, Sara has no choice but to shut off her weapon, to prevent the floor from caving in under the spread heat.

The orange assailant quickly jerks its head completely back with a snap as one of Lance’s blaster shots flies past the mask, snapping its head towards Lance, spinning back on its heel in a blur of orange and red, appearing behind Lance, grabbing his blaster arm and turning his arm so it is forced to lock, bending Lance’s wrist back, forcing Lance’s grip on the weapon to break, as his blaster topples to the floor. Sara meanwhile has gotten back to her feet, but as she tries to turn her lightsaber back on, the hunter, while spinning Lance’s arm into a arm bar behind him, front kicks Sara square in the chest, knocking the wind out of her as her lightsaber hilt topples to the floor and she crumples to her knees, gasping for breath.

The vicious attacker wastes no time on Lance, grabbing the back of his head with its other crimson gloved hand, slamming Lance’s head into a vanity mirror, then with brute strength hurls him across the room, into another wall with such raw power Lance’s body spins then slams into the wall and caving in the drywall, back first. Lance tries to cope with the earth shattering impact as pain rips through his body.

FIGURE – (glaring to Lance) Next time you build defenses make sure they are wise enough to understand if an intruder can breach its resistance once undetected, then its obvious they can do it again with ease.

Lance clenches his eyes shut as pain ripples through his spine, glaring towards the bold contender looming above him, hiding its true identity behind the mask. Lance then feels a shudder of fear sweep over him as he recognizes the configuration of the armor, unconsciously he blurts out the first thing to come into his mind.

LANCE – Val??

The figure grins broadly behind the mask and laughs through its mechanical voice that echoes the sounds of Boba Fett but has a deeper undertone to it.

FIGURE – (electronic) Val? Do not even begin to insult me.

The figure in blinding speed grabs Lance by his collar and hurls him into another wall, at this point Lance’s cheek and temple is bleeding from the glass of the mirror shattered into his face and yet still Lance knows if he can by the time he can launch a stronger offense against the aggressor, he obviously could not match the figure’s speed and though taken by surprise he decided to buy some time, making a glance to his blaster pistol, almost in arms reach.

The malicious foe then stands up boldly and cracks its knuckles glaring to Sara getting back to her feet once again, having caught her breath with a pissed off narrowed stare in her eyes.

Before Sara can close distance, Lance uses the force to call his weapon to his hand and unloads another salvo towards the armored enemy. With split second accuracy, it is able to move out of the way, deciding to play both sides against the middle, leaping directly in front of Sara, with its back turned towards her. Sara’s first instinct is to ignite her lightsaber and cleave the persistent foe in two, however she’s not as impulsive as she once was, seeing that from their positioning if she did attempt the move and miss, she would strike down Lance instead.

Sara decides on another approach waiting for the assailant’s attention to focus back on Lance, dropping to one knee like her brother would, sending her fist square into the invader’s groin area. However with the extensive armor plating along its body, including a cod piece Sara’s hand strikes solid steel, causing her to recoil in pain. Snapping its head back, the gleam of the Scout Trooper visor reflecting her pained state, the hunter spins and round house kicks Sara’s jaw sending her recoiling back, almost into a complete flip, hurling aimlessly into and over the blaster riddled, smoking bed frame.

LANCE – (glaring to the hunter) Look! Let’s settle this like men here, leave her out of it! If you want money fine, a ransom I don’t care I’ll give you whatever it takes to end this.

The huntsman cocks its masked head a moment, then curls a finger where its chin would be as it looks from Sara’s location back to Lance, leaning close, stepping up to Lance and grabbing him by his collar, looking deep into his eyes through the crimson red spectrum of its visor.

FIGURE –  President Jade…Do you not yet realize that none of this has anything to do with…YOU.

Lance’s eyes trail over to Sara, then back to the hunter as he narrows them trying to break the hold over him, managing to do so reaching back for his blaster, aiming it point blank at the hunter’s face. Much to his surprise and well known in the form of martial arts, one cannot pull the trigger fast enough from such distances, as the armored nemesis bats Lance’s blaster away, this time grabbing the weapon from his hand, spinning the handle around and clocking Lance in temple with it.

This time as the hunter spins back around to stalk its way to Sara, Lance tries in desperation to send a kick to the hunter’s back. As if on instinct, the hunter spins back around and grabs his leg. Lance has enough time to hear three things.

The first sound is a volley of darts launch from the invader’s trident kneepads, as bits of metal pierce into Lance’s abdomen, the stun darts finding their mark. The second sound is the invader’s voice.

FIGURE – Do not worry Mr. President, she won’t feel a thing, you on the other hand…

Curling its arm forward the vicious fighter drives its elbow into Lance’s kneecap. Having his leg locked into position, the last sound Lance can hear before he slips into unconsciousness from the darts is a thundering CRUNCH and the echo of his own screams falling silent.

Having crippled and subdued Lance, the invader then takes its time walking over to the bed, roaming its visor through the room, trying to find where Sara has gone since she seems to have completely disappeared. The villainous being flings pillows aside, growing more angered each moment, hurling pieces of broken wood and glass in several directions and then he hears Sara’s voice seeming to come from no where.



Through force enhanced strength, Sara using her will to pick up an entire black leather love seat, and hurls the furniture at the hunter, who is taken by complete surprise as he flies back, and slams hard into a wall.

Rushing over to Lance, Sara tries to wake him up but the trident darts take their toll on his body, not to mention she can see that his leg is heavily damaged. Before she can evaluate the damage further, the hunter hurls the love seat across the room, sending it shattering in splinters of wood and leather into the opposite wall, knocking over a tall metal lamp.

Sara sees this as an opportunity to grab the metal rod of the lamp, as her lightsaber has been knocked from her grasp, somewhere under the ruins of the bedroom, no where in sight. Using the rod like a baseball bat, Sara swings the rod hard into the skull of the orange assassin, cracking the black protection of the Scout Trooper visor, taking swing after swing to the opponent’s ribs and sides, nailing her target endlessly as she drives him back to the wall. However having sustained a fair amount of damage from the vibrations rippling through its armored suit into its body, the hunter times Sara’s next rage filled swing, grabbing the end of the lamp rod, as both Sara and it grip one side of it, using its forward momentum to hurl Sara face first into the opposing wall behind it.

Sara breaks her hold on the rod but the whipping motion of the bar causes her to fly across the room and into a cabinet, shattering glass and sending a deep laceration into her shoulder. Even with the injury, Sara is tough like her brother and she uses the pain to fuel her ambition to win this fight, glaring to everything around her she stands back up on her two feet and holds her arms out. All is silent for a moment, then all of the debris on the floor hover above and spin. Flashing her green eyes open, wide as marbles, Sara uses the force to use everything in the room as a weapon, tossing everything she can at the invader, who is useless against the barrage of twisted steel, ceramics, wood, shrapnel, tile, and chunks of furniture, the momentum of the force tossed assault pushing him closer and closer back to the edge of the balcony.


The figure holds up its hands trying to shield its cracking visor from the barrage of materials raking its body, doing enough damage to begin denting the armor plating and already has cracked the plastoid structure of the Scout Trooper armor portion of the attire, penetrating portions of undecipherable flesh, but red blood begins to pour from thick splinters plunging into skin and muscle.


The figure sees that it is getting closer and closer to the edge of the balcony, still inside the room but on the verge of being thrown outside, as the materials being hurled at it race out into the darkness careening into the terrace where it once took aim, the Master Bedroom almost completely empty of all its contents as even candles smash into wax bits into the figure’s armor.


With her eyes erupting in a emerald blaze, Sara’s hands glow with a green light, as she brings her arms behind her back, energy building more intensely, the room becoming bathed in the emerald radiance while the intruder reaches from a concealed vibroblade in its boot. With a flick of its wrist, it tries to throw the dagger at Sara, but with the chaotic damage to its arm, its aim misses the mark, while Sara paces closer then whips her hands forward.



The glare of green glints off the hunter’s cracked visor as it can make out, without the enhanced vision seeing in full, normal color, two crescent shaped energy ribbons hurling at breakneck speed towards it, which also appear to have the crescent moons stacked vertically as well spinning in star like patterns having no idea just the extent of the damage these force “arcs” can do to it.

If Val’s desperation attack is a bolt of hatred, focusing two central orbs of crimson red energy into one massive expanding ball and Gen Zeridian’s desperation attack is a blood curdling sonic wave of complete destruction known as a Force Scream then Sara’s desperation attack known only as her “Force Arc” attack is equally as powerful, and the assassin soon learns how true it is not to mess with any target that contains the bloodline of the Versai.

In seconds the armor of the intruder is shattered like an egg, each piece of battle armor flying apart like shards of glass as its body hurls into the air from the intense force of Sara’s arcs, the energy coursing twice as agonizing as force lighting, and just as consistent as bolts of green wrap around the invader like snakes, tendrils of pure emerald fury so hot that steam rises off of every portion of its body, the armor providing nothing more then a convenient pressure cooker for the energy assault, while a shower of sparks ignites the air in a fairy dust trail of pure devastation.

If that was not bad enough, having sensed the energy fire emanating from the assailant’s busted armor, his protection from being scanned was no longer in tact, causing every one of Adega’s blasters to come online and take aim. The fractured contender quickly flips a switch on its arm, engaging a weak ray shielding unit as fifteen blaster cannons spray a hail of green ferocity into the intruder’s shielding, propelling his body beyond any means of safety as Sara stares into the darkness, trying to shake the dizzy spell from her head, seeing the hunter tumble downward, off the Cliffside of Adega and down into the crashing, jagged rocks below.


The invader’s shields hold out against fifty rapid fire hits from Adega’s defenses, and then thankfully as they begin to fluctuate and fail, the invader is hurled so far back he becomes out of range of the weapons and plummets downward at breakneck speed towards the rocks below. Before he hits them, he manages to engage a special flight pack on his back and he repels upward, but the machinery fails and he once again falls forward, but having broken the momentum of his fall, he crashes into a hillside and tumbles downward as earth, branches, and rocks grind into portions of his exposed flesh, skidding his carcass across the landscape until he comes to a complete stop, face down on a sandy beach with only the sound of the waves furiously colliding with the wet sand, echoing in his ears. He’s completely exhausted and drained, for the moment he can do is lay there like a helpless sea creature, too far from the water to return to its safety…and await its fate.

Glancing through a severely shattered visor, the intruder could detect four figures approach him, all giving off the signature of little heat, before he hears a reptilian voice.

SKEL – Massster will not be pleased…bring him.

Two of the figures approach the battered form and pick him up, dragging him arm under arm towards a craft that decloaks, revealed to be a MARC, battered and weathered. It is the last thing the hunter sees before he finally passes out from the pain of his injuries.


Meanwhile Sara pants heavily, finally feeling the seething sting of pain overtake her sliced shoulder as she carefully tries to make her way over to Lance, toppling in mid step utterly exhausted from the events, falling a top her unconscious lover, utterly spent while the gown around her flutters in the winds billowing from the balcony, rushing into the room, whipping her hair across her face. Before she drifts into complete darkness, her fingers wrap around a portion of the intruder’s shoulder pad, torn free from the barrage as she looks to the symbol there, completely unrecognizable but deadly and resembling in some way the look of a Mandalorian insignia but unlike being jagged the symbol was completely formed of smooth lines, but each led to a sharp curve where a dagger faced downward with a hole in the handle, and two horns growing out of the blade into a crescent, while below another set of horns stretched upward. Sara’s vision blurs at that moment and she too joins her lover and the assassin in the world of darkness.


Three Days Later…

Moving to a much darker arena, free from the terror of the hunter’s assassination attempt, the scene shifts into a massive, vaguely lit warehouse setting, there are boxes stacked everywhere the eye can see, some constructed of wood, others a thin pressed metal sheet and the floor is dusty, as smoke billows in from vents in the ground surface, curling in several directions, illuminated by a series of yellow lights coming from circular fixtures in the ceiling. As we move from one isle way to the next we can hear machines scratching along the metal surface of the floor, and servos moving, motors humming but for the moment, the storage facility appears completely empty.

Suddenly there is a flash of vibrant green as a lightsaber blade ignites from no where, coming to realize that a shadow in front of us is not cast from the boxes, but moves quickly, narrowly escaping a barrage of red blaster fire that rakes the ground, sending bits of ignited metal fragments into the air, the figure dashing towards another set of boxes, where we can just make out the trim of a black and silver tunic tail. Before we can even catch our breath, the figure dashes away again, sprinting to a series of columns, while orange-red hellfire erupts from our view, or rather over our shoulders as the view of the storage house becomes obstructed by three mechanized, wheel shaped machines, that quickly roll out from their compacted state, take aim and fire as the figure, wielding an elegantly decorated lightsaber matching his attire, parry’s away the shots, revealing that Lon Wol, the Padawan of Valaryc Versai is facing off against three powerful opponents…droidekas.

LON – (panting) By the force how does Val do this? OH GEEZ!

Lon leaps out of the way as one of the droids curls back into a ball and comes up fast behind him, unfolding and firing once more, causing Lon to leap upward with a well timed force jump. The result is the droid behind him opening full spread on the two droids in front of them. Normally a droideka might remodulate its shields in time, but in this case one of the droids is not quick enough, exploding in a shower of mangled metal and rippling flames.

LON – Alright I got one!

Lon spins around, and parries two more blaster bolts fired at his rear as we get a full view of his attire. His eyes of the deepest green glaring with feral intensity while his blonde hair whips around with his well trained movements to evade the two remaining droideka’s malicious assault. Batting back some of the bolts, they careen into the walls of the arena, scoring the carbon construction of them.

Lon’s attire is entirely different from that of his previous introduction, flying an X-Wing attacking the Citadel, no longer in a pilots crude orange jumpsuit but rather he has matured more then the darker soul he once was, taking the initiative to swallow his pride in what he knows, reducing his attire to resemble that of a Padawan Learner.

However, he is by all means a Dark Jedi Padawan and although there are similarities to a Jedi Padwan in his garments, it closer resembles the defiant choices of Anakin Skywalker then say, Qui Gon Jinn’s robes. As Lon catches a breather, we’re able to see the specific details of his outfit. Starting from the neck, Lon wears a full body, off black body glove, covered by a vibrant silver armor plated vest that extends down from his pectoral region, down his abs, leading into this belt. Although we can only assume this much based on the metal peeking from an elegantly decorated “tunic” of sorts that hangs across his shoulders, dangling down through the secured wrap of his belt, cutting off and splitting into two directions, just about knee level.

Lon’s body gloves has ribbed material at the shoulders and down his outer thighs, similar to that of Sara’s costume but more closer in proximity of each other and are not “pads” per say but more like tubing. Likewise the off black, closer to a deep gray regions of his suit are cut away along his inner arms, in three locations, where the suit wraps around to the back of his forearms. Down his legs, at the knees are folded sections of material that allow his suit to offer protection and flexibility. Cresting his boots are miniature versions of a Jedi’s belt clasp, perhaps it is there as a sign that Lone feels Jedi should be wrapped around, and kept under his boots. In either case his brown boots mimic the same fluted covering of Anakin Skywalker’s attire, all the way down to the tips.

Another volley of blaster fire erupts as Lon darts towards us, then brushes past, allowing our eyes to see the extensive “stain glass window” like spacing of black curved patterns printed down the front and back of his Jedi like tunic, which is not tan or brown, but lighter silver-gray. As his lightsaber comes up to parry another salvo of blaster bolts, we can get a clear look at his gauntlets, which mimic exactly, the same traits found on his decorative and effectively designed lightsaber casing, constructed under Val’s guidance when he was awake. His gloves were truly unique, of black semi-gloss leather like material, not fingerless like Val’s gloves but containing a series of rounded tubing that runs down just beyond his knuckles to almost the tips of his fingers. The separations in the rims, allows Lon to keep a firmer grip on his lightsaber and give him an enhanced hold, for climbing up walls or over obstacles.

As Lon sees out of the corner of his eye, the two droideka’s have rolled behind a series of stacked boxes; his senses tell him that the droids are up to a new strategy.

All goes quiet. Lon darts his eyes back and forth, trying to listen for any clue of where his opponents are. He can hear very faintly, steadily rising echos of their wheeled formations rolling along the floor, getting louder and louder.

As the sound becomes almost deafening he figures out exactly what the droids are doing, using a near by flat piece of metal as a plank to a higher set of boxes, he suddenly sees both droids launch off the plank and fly into the air, slightly separating from each other as both droids spin over his head. Lon’s eyes watch nervously as he sees the droids spinning widely through the air, incredibly high up.

LON – That’s right, just give me the right opportunity, you’re both toast!

He knows that a droideka can only balance itself and unfold when on the ground, he grins channeling the force to his fists. Suddenly without warning the two spinning circular droids unfold themselves in midair!

LON – Uhhh obviously they’ve had an upgrade!

Using the momentum of their weight, they spin around and open fire, sending a salvo of deadly blaster bolts towards Lon, who forces himself at the last possible moment to back flip up with the force and land upon a higher stacked set of boxes.

The droids land with a crash and Lon hears another louder rustling of machinery come from behind him. Without any notice, Lon moves to the left, but is stopped by a massive missile launcher arm, as he moves to his left, another arm with a massive series of blaster cannons brushes into his shoulder.

Fearing the worst, Lon swallows hard and cranes his eyes upward to see two glowing optical orbs staring right back at him from a SD 10 unit.

He knows deep down he’s in major trouble as the two droidekas roll out in front of him, tip their rear leg down and fully extend into their battle mode, training their blaster cannons on him.

Lon takes a deep breath, reaching for his lightsaber ignition switch, a sharp but smooth voice echoes from the darkness, we recognize the tone as Foe Raker.

FOE – Computer, enough for a moment...

Swiftly the entire make up of the room, the boxes and the lighting, the damaged walls and other elements begin to fade away starting from the very back of the entire location, sweeping towards the front until there is nothing but a massive empty arena, with only Lon and the droids remaining, however the SD-10 also disappears, while the two droidekas power down and remain.

Foe walks confidently towards Lon, keeping his eyes narrowed as he approaches. His hands are clasped behind his back as he is dressed in all black, including shiny black boots, wearing a set of attire similar to the one Luke Skywalker wore in the Emperor’s Throne room, except a flame like pattern of gold stitching runs along the breasts of the black, sleeveless turtleneck suit style coat, allowing Foe’s impressive muscular physique to show along his bare arms, as his chest more then amply fills out the form of his shirt.

FOE – That was entertaining. You know how to flee from battle… is that supposed to impress me?

Lon lowers his eyes a moment, looking down at his lightsaber, clipping it to his belt in an expression of embarrassment realizing that Foe had been in the arena the entire time in the shadows and what proved Foe’s superior force abilities was Lon nor the machines ever sensed him.

LON – I tried my best Master Raker, but there was nothing I could do, I was ambushed by all sides!

Foe scowls a moment, turning his back on Lon, curling his hand into a fist as he glares to the two shut down droideka units. His eyes narrow in disappointment, then in anger lifting them back to the expanse of the room, stepping inches from Lon, glaring eye to eye with him then taking a deep breath.

FOE – I do not care for excuses Lon Wol. Always you must remember to battle to the end, there is always a way to achieve victory even when the odds are against your survival, if you give up you fail, it doesn’t matter what the machines do to you. If you cease to fight, YOUR LIFE WILL CEASE JUST AS QUICKLY, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?

LON – Yeah I understand all that but still, the numbers were too high and the proximity was too close, what could I do?

FOE – (growls) Always with you its impossible isn’t it? .


FOE – (cracks his knuckles) Oh, there isn’t? Fine.

Foe snaps his gaze upward, glaring into the electronic eyes of the droideka’s, that is to say where they would be if they had them, then grabs Lon and flings him against the wall, taking his exact position as he glances towards him.

LON – What are you doi…

FOE – Save it. Stand there, shut your mouth and watch.

Foe glares into the metallic structures of the droidekas then; with a flick of his fingers he prepares his mind and body to educate his doubtful apprentice. Truth be told, Foe Raker never asked to train anyone, he was used to working solo and fighting his own battles. He never cared much for others getting involved in his feuds because they become a liability. Val and Foe back in the days of the Dark Jedi Academy were told in combat there is no allegiance to one another.

One cannot weaken the greater whole by letting both sides of the attacking force fail their objective. If Val was injured in one of the many vigorous training exercises, the priority was always to take out the enemy first and worry about casualties later. Val allowed himself to break this rule for one moment however and he aided Foe when his shoulder was blasted by enemy fire. By doing so, Val didn’t see the incoming seeker droids firing overhead, and he too suffered a blaster wound to his left side. Having incapacitated both members of the strike team, Gen Zeridian stopped the training and scolded both severely, by making them have to sustain their tolerance for pain by plunging their hands into barrels of glass and trunks of trees, to the point both their hands became bloodied and their knuckles broken.

You see the extent of Dark Jedi training in the academy was not for the purpose of diplomacy and peacekeeping like Jedi but to develop strategic uses of the force, extraordinary combat skills, unequalled lightsaber dueling aptitude and most of all, the ability to sustain the maximum amount of pain before the body shut down. One might have found Gen’s punishment entirely unfair but there was no notion of self worth in her academy, you had to follow your instructions without question and without hesitation, loyalty between ranks was absolute. Questioning a superior instructor’s actions often resulted in many a casualty from a severed limb to severe internal injuries. Only when one attained master hood could one oppose a Master’s orders. Such were the methods of Dark Jedi instruction, to free the mind of blind action and impulsive thought, everything must have reason and every action must have purpose. This is what set Val, Gen, and Foe apart from anyone else was the extensive endurances for pain and the distinct ability to concentrate and amply the force under extreme pressure, pain, and turmoil.

Most importantly of all however, added by Valaryc Versai when he finally mastered his trained shortly after the final duel with Headmaster Zeridian was to never under any circumstances accept a “no win” situation…even if causes their own deaths, to make every moment of life count and never, ever, allow themselves to die needlessly.

Returning to Foe readying himself to show Lon to learn by example, he runs his tongue along his lips a moment, then speaks in pure focused concentration.

FOE – Computer…Crank this wookie up.

The moment Foe’s unique command is given to the internal circuitry to the Power House, the entire scene returns back in a wave motion, reforming every detail of the warehouse scenario. This of course now places Foe where Lon once stood as the droidekas spark back to life with a hiss of mechanical movement, likewise the SD-10 droid begins to power up is massive weaponry aimed at both the left and right side of Foe’s bulging shoulders.

Foe remains completely focused as his eyes do not waver, his fingers trailing down his hips without detection, as time seems to slow down to a heartbeat pace. Everything happens in complete slow motion now, as the only sound is the thud of Foe’s heart thumping in his chest and his breathing, while his fingers grip his lightsaber tucking his arms inward.

Unexpectedly the moment happens, Foe tucks his arms in as he rolls forward, while the massive armaments of the SD-10 open fire on where his shoulders would have been and at their current position of aiming at two 45 degree angles, Foe having curled into front roll, becomes out of range of the “X” pattern of blasters and concussion grenades pelting the flooring alongside him as flashes of white explode from the ground, sending bits of metal everywhere, but Foe’s move is not finished as he completely rolls himself around and flicks on his crimson red lightsaber, using the force as he comes to bare between the gigantic droid’s legs, then in a reflectance of Val’s finishing maneuver on Lord Efface, Foe’s body shoots upward as his saber cleaves, with a one handed grip into the center of the SD-10 droid as a trail of sputtering wires, and a bubbling hot path of molten metal illuminates his black boots.

Foe’s accent upward doesn’t stop until his ruby red edge cleaves clean through the SD-10’s cranium as if it were constructed of paper, causing a chain reaction with the two droideka’s who begin to open fire on him, but in their current position they are not fast enough to get a clear shot as Foe’s amazing force enhanced speed. Likewise as Foe stands up boldly on the massive, halved SD-10 droid’s shoulders, he watches its huge forearm weaponry shift directions and in the process of the two halves beginning to fall in two separate directions, parting his legs slowly, as the droidekas gets caught in the fire of its arm launched barrage.

The result is simple, both droids despite their high powered adaptive shielding are grossly outdated compared to the SD-10’s equipment, as concussion grenades and wider, hotter, blaster fire shatters their shield generators in seconds then, swiftly both droids are decimated in twin explosions of busted bronzium plating, knurled metal and flashes of electronic obliteration.

While this occurs, Foe looks absolutely stunning, leaping away from the still buckling, falling halves of the SD-10 while gravity pulls the two sections towards the ground, when Foe lands in front of the devastation, kneeling down with his saber extended towards the left in a reverse handle grip, keeping his gaze to the floor while a massive fireball erupts behind him, casting his figure into darkness from the front.

Lon is speechless at the awesome display of power Foe reveals to him. Never in his combat training would he have had the confidence to try such a bold maneuver. Foe’s actions seem so simple, Lon cursed himself for not thinking of the brilliant solution to the so called “no win” situation. But in truth, he also recognized that Foe didn’t shout out any cocky remarks to his opponent, he kept a focus on the force and his movements. Lon could tell Foe had pre-calculated in a split second the trajectory of the SD-10’s firing arms…he knew that by rolling forward the droid would have no choice but to fire in the “X” pattern, leaving Foe the space in the middle of the formation, and plenty of time before the machine could hoist up its massive forearms and retrain its aim. Hell it was even more amazing to Lon that Foe somehow had determined that after he sliced the robot in two, up the middle that its own weapons would then take out the droidekas as well. With all of this running through his head, all Lon could do was watch and ironically as Foe had warned him, stand there like a useless lamp.

Not even breaking a sweat, Foe extinguishes his lightsaber and clips it to his belt, flexing his muscles a moment then popping the bones in his neck.

FOE – Nothing like a little on the job training.

Lon simply nods as Foe turns to face him, to his surprise Foe places a hand on his shoulder then pats him on the back, walking around wrapping his fingers at the base of Lon’s neck, Foe walks towards a stack of heavily damaged boxes, stepping over the decimated remains of the droids as he talks to him.

FOE – Lon, this is how it is.  I understand that you’re young; you got a lot of battles to fight yet. No one knows more about battles then I do, its my duty to train you right now and train you I shall, however I will not tolerate excuses from you or anyone else.. Train with your mind as much as you do your weapons and you will find more success, it all starts in your head.

LON – (nods slowly) Yes Master Raker.

FOE – Don’t call me Master, call me Foe Raker. Master Raker is too formal and this training is anything but formal; you get what I’m talkin about?

LON – I see your point, Foe Raker.

Foe nods slowly then looks out into the warehouse. His eyes once again going to a blank stare a moment, before turning back and breaking his hold on Lon’s neck, coming about to step and look him in the eye again.

FOE – Now that your finally starting to get the idea, I need to know something. Just how badly you want to become a Dark Jedi Master.

LON – (anxious) Oh man you have no idea how bad I want this Foe Raker! I’ve seen you and Val fight and it’s amazing, I want that! I want to be that strong and that good, that when I enter a fight I know I can win it and protect my family! I’ll do whatever it takes to master this thing Foe Raker, I mean ever since I came in contact with your brother, and how easily he defeated my dark side fueled behind…I was hooked.

FOE – Being a Master isn’t about how much of an unstoppable fighter you can be, how many women you can please in an hour or how much wealth you can acquire. It’s not all about that, it’s about taking a path others ignore. The Jedi, they’re weak, and we dominate the weak.

LON – (smirks) Hey my Grandfather was a Jedi!

FOE – (nods) You have a problem with my opinion of the Jedi? I welcome you to try and alter it.  However I am simply trying to tell you what makes our training different. Jedi all they want to do is build lightsabers, play dress up, hug trees, read books, and sit in chairs all day sending others to do their dirty work.

LON – (nods slowly) Umm ok, then what makes a Dark Jedi unique from a Sith?

Foe paces over to a box and sits down, clasping his hands in front of him, resting his chin on them for a brief moment.

FOE – Sith are obsessed with killing. Val, Gen and I kill when we have to, Sith kill to appease their bloodlust. I not going to deceive you kid. Val and I have killed people in cold blood at points in our lives, and we came to learn from those mistakes that there is a code of ethics that must be followed.  I learned some of the same ethics, Val still try’s to instill them fully in me, but I do not think they will take completely. I was meant for battle, and battle is what I truly love.

LON – (thinks) Wait I know this, lemme think here. Something like, “If an enemy is willing to take your life they have already forfeited their own.” Code of the Warrior if I recall.

FOE – Exactly, but that doesn’t exist until after certain events.

LON – I know Val has killed others in the past but it was always justified.

Foe takes a deep breath, and then looks off into the distance.

FOE – There was a darker side to Val Lon. One night while we slept, a band of Jedi under the guise that,  “Dark Jedi could never be persuaded to see their views were instantly a viable threat and needed to be eliminated for the good of the galaxy” spiel invaded our sacred ground.

Lon takes a seat on one of the more intact crates, riveted to Foe Raker’s story. Anything that had to do with Val’s mysterious past instantly commanded his highest attention for Val himself had led a life of pain and torture, triumph and tragedy, he was by all means a legend because of his adventures and his deeds, hearing about friend, made Lon respect him all the more and that respect was now extending to his more business minded brother. Sure Foe was a excellent fighter, he had just proven that minutes ago but he lacked the personality that Val has, the charisma to crack a few jokes and have fun. During his three months of staying at the Versai Mansion, leaving his extremely virile and seductively intoxicating girlfriend Xola behind at his own property, between Val and Foe, Valaryc was clearly the more lenient of the two.

LON – Please by all means, continue.

FOE – These twenty four Jedi were led by one self righteous vigilante Jedi known as Crystarr. Without reason hiding behind his “divine empowerment” to rid the galaxy of our kind, he kidnapped Gen Zeridian with the aid of his tunic wearing gang, overpowering her resistance and stole her from the grounds.

LON – Whoa! I thought Jedi couldn’t do those things?

FOE – (breathes deep) Without trying to make you cry about your dead Grand Daddy, Jedi are the biggest hypocrites in the galaxy to date and these morons were just as ignorant. But the moral of this story Lon is that Val was a different person when he found out about Gen’s kidnapping…he snapped.

A shudder creeps through Lon’s spine as he seems to predict where this story is leading, bringing his feet closer in, planting his hands flat along his pants, over the folds of his silver and black tunic.

LON – I’ve seen his dark side persona Foe Raker, I know about the red eyes and the wild hair ordeal.

FOE – (glares sharply) NO! Lon you have never, and I mean NEVER seen the version of Val that I am talkin about; you have never seen this image of him because he keeps it locked away, buried down deep. If he ever let himself become the Jedi Slayer again…

Foe trails off as Lon’s thoughts instantly light up at the mention of “Jedi Slayer”, the subject clearly giving him the outcome of the Jedi invasion of the Dark Jedi Academy. Lon’s words coming more carefully now, seeing that Foe is at for the first time in their meeting, a point of vulnerability.

LON – Jedi Slayer…What did Val look like?

FOE – An animal Lon, a yellow eyed, shrunken pupil beast that would rival the appearance of even Darth Maul’s ugly mug. But I’m not going into that any further. I shoulda never mentioned this in the first place.

LON – Awww come on Foe Raker, you can’t leave a story like this unfinished!

FOE – (turns sharply) IT IS NOT A STORY LON, IT IS TRUTH!

Quickly Foe stands up and walks far away from Lon, trying to calm himself, wondering deep inside his own thoughts why he allowed himself to release these details of Val’s dark past. It clearly was not all smiles and happiness inside the academy walls. That night played through in Foe’s mind as he pictured the outcome of the Jedi attempt, vivid as it was and the graphic details obscured by the darkness, with piercing moonlight illuminating Val’s feral image from behind, battle ravaged, his clothes stained in dried blood, not his own. Gen Zeridian was unconscious over his left shoulder, while in his right, was the severed head of the Jedi’s leader, Crystarr.

Lon did not know these details however, as Foe kept them secret from him turning towards his apprentice and calling him forth with an outstretched finger.

FOE – You must only know this much Lon Wol. Twenty five Jedi invaded our domain and when Val was finished we burned twenty five carcasses. Of course we can only assume that was the number because none of them were whole.

LON – Are you serious?

FOE – (Nods)…Not one of us laid a finger on them neither.

LON – Then Val did all that?

Foe nods slowly, before walking to a panel extended from the wall, as the doors to the Power House slide open.

FOE – Enough of the past Lon, if ya want to be a true Dark Jedi Master, you’re gonna to have to prove to me and yourself just how far you are willin to go to reach that goal. I’m not pullin your leg boy, if and when you pass this “trial” you’ll be on your way..

LON – (shivers) Uhhh we’ve sparred, we’ve read up on force tactics, practiced them at the all hours of the morning, gone over lightsaber dueling techniques, parrying blaster fire, but I don’t believe we have ever had a “trail” before.

FOE – (grins) No we haven’t, you want to be a man don’t ya?

LON – (smiles) Hell yeah I do!

Foe paces out into an illuminated, hexagonal hallway that stretches in two directions, the path of which he takes leads to a turbolift. Lon quickly dashes out of the Power House entrance and pursues Foe while he walks away heading to the lift.

FOE – I am givin ya your chance right here Lon. If you want this now is the time to prove it. Best put up and check your saber at the door.

Lon quirks a brow looking down to his lightsaber, then nods as the turbolift picks up speed and hurls upward to the main floor of the Versai Mansion, opening through a secret panel in the wall.


Foe and Lon step out into a room filled with Val’s costumes from the past known as the “Corridor of Time.” All the outfits pristine for the most part, sans their damage from the time they were used in rectangular “hover” cases. Each suit hovers centrally in the center of magnetic poles that run above and below the protective covering causing a stabilizing field to form, since the costumes contain metal studs inside them in strategic points the outfits stay frozen in place.

Lon and Foe walk past each case, while red velvet banners hang from the walls, baring the different versions of the Versai Crest in gold, from the very simplified “V” to the secondary “V” with a triangle in between the angles, down to the classic Versai Crest with the “Two V” design on to the most current rendition of the V with a gold circle around it hanging in sequential order all leading up to a massive red and black, silken banner that stretches at least 5 feet across and 3 feet down baring the most current Versai Crest and along side it, Gen Zeridian’s new crest, with a classic rounded “G” and a script like “Z” behind it, with two thinner extensions running from the right and left and equal and opposing distances from each other lead into a central circle of gold, where both crests slightly overlap and link together (Resurgence Logo) with bold words reading…


The banner was designed by Gen Zeridian, the only moment she left Val’s bedside at VT, to send a holographic transmission to Sacul of his condition, at that time wanting to have a testament constructed to symbolize their unity with one another, where all who entered the mansion would see it and pray for their fully recovered reunion.

Passing beyond Val’s earliest, most accurate and unchanged “Bounty Hunting Era” attire, Lon’s eyes wander its white, green, and brown colors briefly observing the Scout Trooper helmet and Mandalorian armor plates running down the chest area, passing to a gray imperial outfit. Then on to another uniform that is has a shiny “RA” pin affixed to the breast in all red, the plaque reading “Rebel Alliance Era”. Beyond those standard imperial uniforms are the most customized attire beginning with Val’s Dark Jedi Academy apparel, entitled “DJA Era” complete with red fighting pads over the wrists wrapping along the forearm and plain black clothes as well as the only set of boots in his collection that do not possess any trace of Versai crests on them.

Lon and Foe walk onward, passing a case holding Val’s attire from when he met Corrie, complete with a blaster damaged vest where the droideka’s ambushed him, Lon can even see the detail of the black paint rubbed off where the shiny silver plating of it juts outward, that plaque reading “New Age Era”. Moving swiftly, trailing a little bit behind Foe as Lon sees the first use of crimson red, black, and gold in Val’s attire, reading a plate that says “Dark Justice Era”. The garb is the first appearance of customized breastplate as well, with knicks and dents where Lon could surmise that Val had fought many battles in the uniform, from the various tears in the red pants as well, noting a lightning bolt pattern of gold running down one hip.

Finally Lon and Foe reach the main doors to the restored Versai Mansion Foyer, where all of the damage from the massive invasion had been restored. Beginning at the windows Val and Crymson had weaved in and out of, to all the bookcases that were destroyed by blaster fire, and the walls were resurfaced and redecorated. The entire Versai Mansion, having had the architectural layout and specific decorating details on file was restored perfectly by Sacul over the months passed its invasion.

Lon manages to cast his glance to the last case in Val’s collection, finding the more updated version of his Dark Justice Attire breastplate, but this costume set had the most current Versai crests in the boots and on the wrists of Val’s currently used fingerless black gloves. Also the gauntlets were clearly at their highest development, baring the “pad” design that echoed in Sara’s battle attire, but this a frame of gold, arching across jet black pad, this plaque reading, “New Beginnings Era.”.

Looking through the case, Lon only catches a glimpse of the same type but not the same make of the outfit Val designed when he waged a one man war against The Killian, his “Vengeance” attire, which read, “Elite Combat Era” as we have come to recognize its more lean to black and silver then crimson red, again it possessed the “pad” patterns but this costume was the first time Val decided to upgrade his signature sleeveless trench coat, losing the gray streak that runs down from lapel to tips, for a multi-rimmed set of gray bands around the collar, formed of a pliable material.

In one room, you could walk Val’s past from his earliest days, to his most current development, perhaps not in exact order but in the same presence. Lon felt a sense of sadness wash over him because as he passes beyond this spacious room, he can see there is one more case that remains empty, with a plaque at the bottom that reads “Duelist Attire.” Lon swallows hard a moment, as he looks to all of the outfits Val has worn over the years of his life, it is then that Foe’s words really sink in, compared to Val and Foe’s experience, Lon was still simply a “boy”.

FOE – Remain here I will summon you when it is time..

Lon realizes as he sees Foe disappear through the exquisitely decorated gilded double doors, into the courtyard, that while Val in his coma…he cannot evolve and unless he wakes from it, Lon will never know what outfit was intended for this case.


[ Back to Main Story Page I To Part II ]


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