A/N Well Fuckers, it has been so very long, hasn't it? Life can hand out some shit and I've been dealing with that, so as you can expect my time spent writing was diminished. But I'm back, and I intend to update both this new story and Born as much as I can, and as fast as I can. Anyway, enjoy. Peace Fuckers - Two
Tython | Centaxday 28th - 11th Month | 3653 BBY (Before Battle of Yavin) | 0 ATC (After the Treaty of Coruscant)
An air surrounds the large temple, nestled next to a mountain and covered by a thick forest save for the rather large courtyard. Hidden, to all who would wish the inhabitants misfortune, at least that is what they tell those ready to take their trails. Many souls fill the courtyard, none looking the same, yet all united in the goal to either become a member of the Order in earnest or to offer guidance to the former. From a few small training fields to a central path to the building, souls practise with a saber in hand.
The temple itself rests as a backdrop to the activity. A place of learning and of great knowledge. Its architecture is simple but exudes a rare beauty that can come from only a place devoted to upholding peace. Banners drape at either side of the entrance, the symbol of the owner's on a backdrop of blue. Various statues rest atop the buildings many levels, each of a different Master or Hero of the Order. One soul finds themselves looking over the entrance with uneasy green eyes, his emotions unclear but he is certainly not calm. He fidgets with his hands as they rest at his side, his mud brown cloak rustling as he does so.
He continues to stare for what seems like hours as those around him go about their day, never once moving a single muscle. However, he is soon shocked by a hand resting on his shoulder. The owner of the hand is in his early forties, the grey streaks in his hair and the wrinkles in his face a hint. Cold blue eyes lock with the restless green of the younger man's, a smile forming on the elders face.
"Aralus, you seem nervous child?" The assumed Aralus looks away, back to the symbol of the very Order he is a part of. He holds it there for a short time before returning it to the elder. "Don't be, you passed your trial's with a great adherence to the Order's code. The Council will see this and you will be made a Knight of the Order, but more importantly, be given the honour of crafting a lightsaber." The elder man rustles about his auburn cloak for a few moments, searching for something with his right hand. It doesn't take long for him to find what it is he looking for. "Take this, it shall serve as the crystal for your saber, a keepsake of my own Master's."
The elder man holds out the crystal, letting the light hit it to show it's colour to his padawan. Aralus reaches for the deep purple crystal, ever cautious for some unknown reason. "T..thank you Master Naren, I shall keep it safe." He pauses as he places it away in his own robe. "Are the council expecting us?"
"They are, Aralus. Let us not keep them waiting, Master Tal will wish to talk to us after you are knighted." Naren answers, gesturing for his padawan to enter the great temple.
Both men slowly enter the huge arched entrance of the temple, the orders regalia all around them alongside even more statues of previous Masters. As they continue through the entrance, they are greeted with the grand hall. A large circular room and the main point in which the occupants enter all parts of the temple, including the upstairs. Two extravagant staircases circle around the room in opposite directions, both ending directly opposed to the Council chambers.
The closer the young padawan gets to the gilded doors, the more uneasy he visually becomes, shaking slightly as they take the final few steps. His master looks to him and smiles, though it does nothing for Aralus, pushing open the grand chamber doors. The master leads his padawan inside, striding deftly until only a few meters away from a large circular table that houses an inbuilt holoprojector. Seven seats are scattered around one half of the table, each filled with a robed figure bar one. Naren catches this and seems to lose him compose for a second.
Seeing the Council, Aralus stops short of his Master. His eyes dart from figure to figure all while his heart begins to beat faster and faster. Before he can even speak his vision begins to blur and he falls to his knee. A small amount of chatter begins as each figure watches. For a few minutes, they wait but a few begin to become restless and start the proceedings.
"Master Naren, is your padawan okay?" A soft-spoken voice offers concern for the boy, her gaze stuck on him.
The master looks to Aralus then back to the female council member. "Yes, Master Satele, he is simply nervous." Naren proceeds to walk over to his padawan and pull him up, yet as he does he whispers something. "Get it together, Aralus, or would you prefer another one of our private training sessions?"
The threat was not lost on the young man, using what strength he can to push off of the Master and stand himself upright. "I'm sorry Master."
Both make their way to the spot Naren left to help Aralus. The council now more intrigued than before, yet few among them were annoyed at the time wasted. "Now, shall we proceed with the meeting?" All the Council members nod their heads, as do Naren and Aralus. "Good. Padawan Aralus Straden, you have been summoned before the Jedi Council because you have finished your trails. We commend you on that… but we are unfortunately unable to allow you the title of Knight. However, I'm sure you and Master Naren know exactly why this is."
Before either Aralus or Naren can speak, a team of commandos burst in from the gilded doors behind them. On top of the Republic's finest, each Jedi Master on the council draw their respective lightsabers and leap to surround the two Jedi. The two act on instincts and draw their own blades, a practise saber for Aralus and a cyan blue lightsaber for Naren. For an instance all was calm as the hum from the sabers fills the air, each contemplates their opening move. The first to act, however, is Naren. Conjuring as much of the force as he can, he sends a shockwave out from himself. Its effects are little on the Jedi, merely pushing them back a few meters, whereas the Republic commandos are sent flying and only stop when they come into contact with the gilded doors.
Seeing an opening, Aralus acts without thinking and charges at the commandos. Within a single moment, he is upon them and in the next the few closest lie dead. A practise saber only in name as if wielded by a good duelist, even the weekend vibrations could be fatal. With his Padawan engaged, Naren charges the fledgelings of the council. He knows that the more tenured members would prove a nuisance and perhaps even beyond him in skill. His leap is long and he lands next to a Twi'lek Jedi Master, her blue lightsaber held in a defensive manner. Both blades clash and send a deep hum throughout the room.
Blows are traded between the two, neither one the superior in pure skill. Seeing this, Naren employs a small manipulation of the force, pulling one of the many chairs in the room into his opponent. As he had anticipated, she senses the ploy and spins to slice through the object and thus prevent her death. Yet, her focus is her downfall, her turn leaves her back open for just enough time for Naren to augment his body with the force and thrust his saber into her heart. Her death rattle is heard throughout the room, catching the attention of Aralus who's now done with the Commandos.
Seeing his Master outnumbered, an internal struggle begins. Arulas knows he has to help his master, or fear being punished severely, however, the constant punishments for simply making the slightest mistake, fights the notion of help. His pause is not lost on the Jedi Masters and the most senior of them, the woman who spoke ahead of the attempted arrest leaps over Naren and lands only a few meters from the padawan. The duel-bladed lightsaber held in her left hand is not lost on Arulas, something he can not hope to stand up to. Seeing no other option, though, he charges at the Jedi Master, but he does not reach her. His vision fades before he can stop it, falls onto the council room floor, the battle's outcome lost to him.
Undisclosed Republic Base | Primeday 2nd - 7th Month | 3652 BBY | 1 ATC
Three fully armoured men stride down a pristine white corridor, with a final man dressed in a rather formal uniform ahead of them. Turn after turn the men continue with the vigour and intent in their steps never wavering. After a few more turns and short corridors, they reach a blast door with a guard at either flank. On arrival, the guards stand to attention and salute the formal man, who from appearances alone must be an officer of sorts.
"Major Aldir Ving, are you here to see the prisoner?" One of the guards questions, returning from attention.
"Yes I am, The Republic still do not have the answers that man posses. A grisly business but I will ensure to activate the sound dampeners for you." The Major answers the subordinates query as he watches him go through the process of opening the doors.
"Thank you, Major, the medical staff are attending to him as we speak, so I am sure they are ready for you." A final salute from the guards as they return to their posts as the Major and his bodyguards pass through the blast door.
Once through the doors automatically begin their closing procedures and close within a few seconds. The Major and his retinue increase their pace, ever ready to finish with their mission, one that he has had to repeat for over seven months as the prisoner refused to give in to the torture he had received. They had tried everything, from conventional means permitted by the Republic to means only the Strategic Information Service are allowed to conduct. The very fact he simply shrugged it off was getting to the Major.
Soon enough they were at a final door, this one was as well guarded as the blast door, with a guard on both of its flanks. These guards, however, were commandos from the Republic's very best special forces team. No words are shared as they open the door for the Major, doing so quickly and efficiently before saluting as he again passes through. The sight inside of the door is medical, to say the least. From the Kolto tank at the very back of the room to all of the medical instruments that lay around. Two medical staff move around the room from instrument to instrument, talking to one another as they check the prisoner's vital signs. The Major ignores them and ganders at the man inside of the Kolto tank.
He is wearing little, from a sith-like mask that covers all but his mouth and the bottom of his nose to pads all over his body. The ones on his muscles larger and pulsing visually every few seconds. As is standard when inside a Kolto tank, he is equipped with an oxygen mask to keep him alive in the gel-like liquid. A last piece of clothing covers his genitals. Aldir looks at him for a few moments, taking in each and every scar the man posses on his upper body. Around ten in total remain from previous torture sessions, none no bigger than a few inches yet easily seen even through the blue Kolto.
Another minute passes and both medical staff stand next to the Kolto tank, pressing various buttons on the two screens to begin the process of emptying the tank. "Major Aldir, the subject has recovered from the last session, and is ready for the next." The medical staffer looks back at the screen and starts to read off his vitals and other information. "Subject Arulas is still in perfect health thanks to the kolto and state of the art muscle stimulators. All wounds have healed this time, but he has not awoken since your last session. Shall I administer the anti-sedative?"
"Do it, and prep the containment field. Set it to maximum force." The Major returns, sliding a few feet away from the now fully drained Kolto Tank.
The subject's body drops to the floor without the presence of the Kolto, leaning against the side of the tank. Both medical staff begin to input codes into the consoles, causing the release of the tank which retracts into the compartment above it. The body falls back and remains in a position against the far wall. A nod from Aldir sets one of the medical staff on another task. They grab an injector from the small table positioned just to the side of the consoles, a pale yellow liquid flows inside of the vial attached. Taking a knee, the medical staff places the injector on the subject's arm and injects the substance into him.
It doesn't take long for the drugs to take effect waking the subject, who makes a groggy groan as he pushs himself into a sitting position in the centre of the retracted tank. Wasting no time the Major sends another nod to the medical staff who activate the containment field which in the blink of an eye starts up and surrounds the subject. The hum of the new found cage echos around the room, the subject, however, begins to tense all of his muscles at once. Slowly he picks up his head and looks directly at the Major who has moved closer to the tank.
"Major… Aldir." Arulas seethes through his greeted teeth while slowly placing his hands onto his knees. Pushing down slightly as he continues to keep his muscles tensed. "Is it… that time already?"
The Major smiles, glad to be recognised by his prisoner. "That it is Arulas, though you seem to be coping very well under the field. A pity that its unable to shock you, but I'm sure we can procure a far stronger one in the coming days… unless you are finally willing to part with the knowledge we desire?" Arulas smiles forcefully as he continues to endure the pain of the containment fields second feature. A lethal and continuous shock. "A no it is then…" The Major pauses for a moment. "Perhaps a less… Republic method is necessary."
A bigger smile creeps onto the face of Arulas. "Seven months, Major. I did wonder when you'd finally drop the act and return to your… roots." All of the white drains from the Major's face as he stares at his prisoner. "You seem confused Major, and I can imagine why. How did a Jedi padawan figure out your little secret? Well it-"
Before the subject can finish his mocking the Major snaps from his confusion and barks orders at his subordinates. "Bypass the Republic limiter on the containment field and continuing raising its power!"
Both medical staff leap to work, the new tone of Aldir enough to spark a brand new level of work ethic. In mere moments the hum of the containment field turns into a much louder hum with crackles and snaps of electricity. As every moment passes, the power let out by the field increases and the results are clear. The subject begins to roar in pain, his skin receiving slight burns in random areas from the crackling shocks. Within ten minutes the field was at quadruple it's limited power output. The very mask that keeps Arulas' vision restricted begins to deform simply from the current coursing through it.
Another ten minutes pass and aside from the even more erratic yells of pure pain from Arulas, smoke starts to fill the gaps in the room. At first, it was a light grey but with each second it darkens, causing the medical staff to turn to the Major.
"Major, the containment field cannot keep this up much longer. If we don't return it to below the limit the field will drop and the subject may be able to flee." The tone of the man's voice is one filled with fear and worry. Two emotions he hopes the Major will share.
Aldir clicks his tongue and pulls out a small blaster pistol from a holster on his right leg. "Fine, lower the power of the field and administer a sedative when the field is low enough for an injecter round to pass through."
A nod of acknowledgement comes from the medical staff as they interact with the now sparking consoles. Gradually the crackling of the field returns to its subtle humming sound, with Arulas' roar of pain subsiding alongside it. Yet, before he can return to mocking the Major or even utter a word, an injector blaster is prepped and aimed at the subject. The round is fired at him and passes through the containment field with little effort, piercing Arulas' skin and injecting the light yellow liquid. A final smile passes over his lips as the formula acts quickly and pushes his already fading consciousness from him.
His body begins to fall, just about to touch the containment field as the Kolto tank retakes its place around the prisoner. The hum of the field dissipates and soon enough, blue gel-like liquid begins to fill the tank again, the oxygen mask automatically reattaching itself to Arulas' mouth.
Undisclosed Republic Base | Taungsday 29th - 4th Month | 3651 BBY | 2 ATC
The white room where Arulas rests in his Kolto tank is full, and the door is open. With the Major and his two medical staff are figures who do not fit in. Both wear brown robes of varying shades and an air lingers about them. One of knowledge or utter calm, no one could tell, but one thing they are able to see is that they are from the Jedi Order. One is taller than the other, however, both are human like the Major. What they are doing in the same room as the Major's pet project is something he intends to find out.
"Master Jedi, how may I be of service?" Aldir bows slightly as he speaks, thinning the answers in his own mind. The very fact they know about this station means they were given access, but the purpose escapes him.
Of the two Jedi, the taller of the two steps forward. "Major Aldir, we have come to transfer the prisoner on the order of Chancellor Dorian Janarus and Grand Master Satele Shan of the Jedi Order." He pauses and presents a holotablet with a document already ready to view. "I ensure you will find everything in order."
Aldir peruses the document, reading it in full before handing it back to the Jedi. "As you said, everything's in order." A sigh escapes his lips, the meaning behind it obscure to all but the Major himself. "Release the Kolto and have the tank secured. Guards, come in and prepare to restain the subject if he is no longer under our sedatives."
Two guards come hulking through the open blast door, their armour white in colour with orange accents. Bulky and meant for the heaviest troopers on the battlefield, the guards only stop when at either flank of the Kolto tank. Just in between the medical staff and their consoles, and the prisoner. A nod to show they are ready is enough for the medical staff to begin the process of draining the kolto from the tank, a process which takes only a few moments before the once floating body rests against the side of the tank.
As the tank raises, one of the guards places his weapon over his back into its holster and produces a set of hand restraints. However, before he can place them onto the prisoner, two things occur. The first is the sudden waking of Arulas, a roar escaping his maw as he uses the force to both simultaneously push all in the room back while pulling the two Jedi's lightsabers to himself. Glass shatters as the consoles smash into the medical staff, the guards find themselves pinned to opposite walls, the Major hits the side of the blast door while the Jedi are only pushed back slightly. Yet, they are in awe that a lowly padawan was able to disarm them. The second is the subtle hum that, through the chaos, sets the tone of the next few moments.
Arulas stands upright, a lightsaber held in each hand with a backwards grip. The left is blue while the right is yellow, the blade of a guardian and the blade of a sentinel respectively. With a couple of slight movements, the pads that are attached to him are pulled off and fall to the floor, no longer necessary. A single loincloth and the mask he dons is all he is left with, as he stares down the two now weaponless Jedi.
His glare changes from Jedi to Jedi before a hysterical laugh escapes his maw. "Nearly two years, it took the damned Naren two years to find me… I expected better from that guttersnake." His words are merged with his bouts of laughter, only a subtle undertone of hatred present. "Tell me, Jedi, where is that Bantha fodder?"
The Jedi take up their respective combat styles, though without their lightsabers it would seem like any other stance. Again the taller of the two takes the role of speaker. "Don't speak ill of the late Master Naren Droma! You outcast trash!"
"Late Master?" The laughter grows in volume until it is the sole thing heard by all present. "That scum got what was coming to him. I would have loved to have done it myself, but I guess you will have to sate my lust for blood for now."
Both Jedi take his threat seriously, enough so that they begin to edge towards the blast door. Though the door will provide them with zero help, even closed now that their lightsabers are no longer theirs, but it should provide them with ample time to reach help. Without looking to one another they both use the force to augment their bodies as they launch for the door. With ease they both pass through, the taller of the two sends a force blast down through the door to hold Arulas so the door can shut. Which the other of the Jedi sets about doing.
Flying backwards, Arulas hits the wall behind him with a decent amount of force. Unable to fully ward off the blast in his current state. Slowly and surely he paces across the small room while the blast door begins to close. Soon enough he stops, letting the door close before him with a sadistic smile over his features. The hum of the sabers fall silent as they retract back into their hilts. Arulas looks around to room to find everyone still out of it, however, the Major begins to come around.
Pushing himself into a sitting position, Aldir wipes the dust from his eyes and looks around the room with a confused expression. His vision blurred from his loss of consciousness, it takes him a few looks to realise just what situation he had found himself in. He keeps his gaze on the knocked out troopers for a moment, fear slowly etching itself onto his face, next he looks to the medical staff who lay under both the troopers and the medical consoles. His fear soon turns to unadulterated fear, unable to move from his position as soon as his eyes lock with Arulas' behind his mask.
"Y..you… how did you escape! This should not have happened!" The Major screams at Arulas, trying to coax his body to move, but to no avail.
No retort or sick joke comes from the prisoner. Arulas is happy to laugh as he turns his back from the Major and looks upon the unconscious guards. Of the two, one is a similar size and build to him, a lucky coincidence as he is in need of new clothing. Slowly he strides over to the guard, taking his time with each step. To him, the guard was light and easy to manipulate, pulling them off of the consoles and into the centre of the room. Piece by piece he is stripped of his armour and eventually the uniform he wore underneath. Without so much as a second wasted he places the trousers, shirt and boots on.
With his new clothes acquired, Arulas turns to the pieces of armour he placed around the, still out of it, guard. As is the Republic standard, the armour was modular to give the wearer the advantage in all climates and terrain. Easily able to add extra armour or take pieces away to increase or decrease mobility in favour of defence. Of the armour present, he places on the shin guards first, attaching them to his boots with ease. Next is the thigh plates, which attach just as easily, however, unlike the trooper he took them from, he only uses the lightest part of the plate. The Kama and belt are next, which he straps around his waist before checking over the various devices and utilities on it, after which he places the lightsabers on. For his upper body, he goes with minimal armour, only using the lightest plates for his chest and back as well as upper and forearm. Last but not least is the mask, the mask used to keep his vision blurred. With a hand on each side, he pulls with all of his might. The mask returns by crumbling under the pressure and soon enough snapping in two to reveal his ungroomed features.
Now dressed and armoured, Arulas pushes all of his hair back and holds it behind his head. With his second hand, he pulls a small vibro knife off of his new belt and slashes through the hair. Letting go his hair keep it's position in a semi-groomed slick back style, close to his original look before his imprisonment.
Arulas turns his attention back to the Major, everything else ticked off of his list. Once his gaze locks with Aldir's, however, the major begins to panic and exude more fear than before. "Tho...those eyes! They were not like that before… what did you do?" His screams are met with a simple yet sadistic smile from his former subject.
A pair of deep yellow eyes pierces the Major's soul. "Oh Major, I have done nothing. You, on the other hand, have committed a heinous act… killing everyone aboard this Republic station and then killing yourself." Arulas clicks his tongue as he lifts his hand to face the Major, who soon enough begins to float and move into the circle that indicates where the Kolto tank rests. "Trapping yourself in the very prisoner's cell right after you let him escape, what made you do it? Hm? What incentive were you offered by the Empire?" A dark laugh exits his maw as he drops Aldir on the spot. "It must have been great if you offered your own life for it."
Again and again, Aldir tries to force his body to move, even an inch but it fails him. "You monster! You-" Before he can finish his sentence the containment field hums into life and his words are replaced by a scream of pain.
"I might very well be." Arulas returns as he messes around with the broken console. "Aha, here it is." Only a second after he started the machine, the consoles begin to spark and the humming sound grows deeper and more violent. "Well, Major, it has been fun spending this time together, but I am needed elsewhere."
Arulas turns on his heel and drops the console back onto the medical staff. A lone wave to the Major before he begins to muster a large amount of the force into the palms of his hands, only to direct it at the blast doors barring his exit. Within a moment the blast contorts the door outwards, destroying its integrity as well as the door's surroundings. Slowly Arulas exits the small interrogation cell and down the long white hallway. No one stops him as he walks, as no souls are present. An unfortunate circumstance, but one he knows won't last for long as to evacuate the whole station would take a few hours at least. If the station is as big as he expected.
For over an hour Arulas strides down hallway after hallway, collecting supplies from the infirmary all while simultaneously destroying each and everything that crossed his path. Yet, to his annoyance, not one soul had been found in his path and at this point, he had seen over half of the station. Deeply annoyed by this he sets his sight on the station's reactor core. If he cannot find the Republic troopers and Jedi, a reactor meltdown will. However, finding the reactor will take up his valuable time, not that he has a choice in the matter. He had already decided on making the station inoperable, as such to take out two nuisances with a single stroke.
Soon enough Arulas finds himself outside of the engineering section of the ship, with a large ray shield in front of him. Pacing parallel along the shield he takes time to think about how to bypass it and begin the process of a total meltdown. No operable consoles or other simple options offer themselves to him, everything destroyed. Perhaps to keep anyone who would find the station after they evacuate from using it, or it may have been a mistake. It doesn't matter to Arulas as he draws both of his lightsabers, the blades humming into existence. Expanding his observing, he finds the power conduit that runs along the top of the ray shield generator. A smile comes from Arulas as he launches one of his lightsabers at the conduit, the force guiding his blade as it soars through the air and severs the wires before returning to the hand he threw it from.
Slowly, but surely, the shield blinks out of existence. His path now clear, Arulas saunters deeper into the engineering section, looking at each critical system's main consoles. The once small smile on his face grows into a perverse smirk. Breaking into a swift stride, he slashes at each console he passes. Smoke fills the room from each cut, the plasma of the blade making short work of the metal alloy used to house the console's systems. Within only a moment, sirens begin to sound and an automated protocol droid begins to announce that the critical systems are going offline.
'Alert: Critical system failures. All systems offline. All docking clamps unresponsive. Basic life support remaining: thirty-five minutes, standard time.' The droids alert is loud and clear, and just what Arulas had hoped for. Well one of the things, the explosion of the reactor will come later.
Only a few moments after the droids initial alert, all of the consoles lie in heaps and the reactor is in sight. Arulas casually strides over to the large multicore reactor, looking at each part and attempts to determine where to strike it to cause a slow meltdown. His knowledge of station components is admittedly lacking, and not finding what he wants he plunges a lightsaber into two separate parts. One being a core. Without waiting for a reaction to his attack he augments his legs with the force and leaps back out of the engineering sector and begins his hunt for the hangers and docking clamps. Sure his handy work will bring down the station in a matter of minutes.
With his increased pace, it doesn't take long for Arulas to stumble across the entrance to the primary hangers. Slowing his light jog into a stride he slides into the hanger, but as soon as he looks inside he is met with a volley of blaster fire and orders shouted to continue fire at the prisoner. Preferring not to be killed before he can escape, he leaps back from the open door and takes up a position on the wall next to the entrance. A long deep breath exits his lungs as he prepares himself and places a lightsaber in each hand in a reverse grip. With one final breath, he activates the lightsabers and augments his body with the force before he charges at the troopers.
In a nearly artistic way, Arulas charges at the rank upon rank of blaster fire, twirling his lightsabers around. The incoming blaster fire is not the most accurate, yet every bolt that should stay true is intercepted and deflected by the lightsabers in his grip. Some even returning at the troopers who had fired them. Little by little, the troopers fall to their own blaster bolts as their leader continues to bark orders and become more erratic. It doesn't take long for Arulas to clear the hundred or so meters of hangar space in between him and the Republic soldiers. A simple jump over their makeshift defences allows him to land right in the middle of the small group of the men. Shifting from defence to offensive like it is nothing, the twirling lightsabers become more directed and quickly sever arms, legs and heads.
When all nearby are dealt with, Arulas shifts his form again to deflecting any incoming bolts that reach his personal bubble. Another leap and he repeats the process, the plasma blades finding no resistance in any of the equipment the troopers carry. Blasters, armour and even flesh are all severed as if they were nothing but butter. Squad by squad the troopers fall to the blisteringly fast attacks, none trained or even prepared to fight a Jedi, let alone one with a score to settle. Not even two minutes pass before only a lone squad of troopers remains, circled around their leader. Arulas wastes no time and charges at them, their fire easy to deflect. As soon as he reaches combat range, he sidesteps them all and with a great deal of force, placing all of his weight on his right foot. His form shifts before anyone can see it and he blitzes through the group. Once through, he lets the hum of the lightsabers fill the void as the bodies of the last squad and leader hit the floor with a bloody crunch.
All forms of resistance now dead, Arulas lets out a breath he hadn't realised he had been holding. Both lightsabers retract into their respective hilts, their hum leaving a soundless void like existence, before placing them on his belt. Each of his muscles aches from overuse, even if they had been artificially stimulated while he was imprisoned, nothing can compare to actual use. Taking a few moments to rest, the protocol droid sounds thought the station again.
'Alert: Critical system failures. All systems offline. All docking clamps unresponsive. Basic life support remaining: twenty minutes, standard time.' However, unlike the last alert, the droid continues after a brief pause. 'Reactor meltdown in progress, core three's safe temperature exceeded. Estimated time until catastrophic failure: five minutes and seven seconds.'
Arulas smiles at the announcement, but the smile soon turns to a frown. He's severely cut his time to find passage off of the station down, with both Jedi still alive. Instantly he begins to sprint towards another exit from the hanger, one directly under a sign that reads 'Docking Clamps this way' in Republic basic. In a matter of moments, he crosses the hanger and continues to dash down the hallway to his destination. Unexpectedly, there are no troopers in his way, not a single squad. He speculates that the only resistance was what he faced in the hanger, the Republic must have thought that would be enough. How wrong they were.
Near the end of the hall, a single turn comes into view. Seeing this, Arulas slows his pace, stopping just short of the corner itself. Unlike his rash charge into the hanger, he rests his back against the wall and slowly moves closer to the corner. Trying to keep himself hidden from any potential dangers while he observes whatever lays down the next hallway. Looking just around the corner reveals nothing but the two Jedi that came to take him back, though he doesn't act just yet. He continues to observe for a few seconds, knowing that the scene could change for the worse. However, as he watches he reminds himself of the imminent meltdown he caused. At the reminder, he reequips himself with both lightsabers and augments his body with the force.
The pair of Jedi both recoil at the sight of the prisoner and ready themselves, however, one looks back to the airlock behind him. Without warning the airlock shuts tight, both Jedi content with the outcome they counter charge Arulas. Force blast after force blast comes from the Jedi, each one barely dodged by Arulas while he keeps on track. Soon enough the three are only a few feet from one another. Taking the initiative, the Jedi stop and start to conjure the force in their palms ahead of sending at the ever closer threat. Too close to dodge effectively, Arulas activates both lightsabers and channels the force deeper into his legs, surging into the air directly at the blast and both Jedi. His blades held backwards as he spins.
The blasts sails at Arulas, hitting him with all of the force they conjured. However, the spin of his leap and his body augmented with the force is able to lessen the effect, as every force user is taught. Force counters force, which is why Jedi are taught to face each other with saber combat alone. Landing right in front of the two, his switch to offensive is far quicker than before, an internal lust for their blood fueling his actions. Within barely a moment, over ten slashes are made at the two, all connecting to varying degrees. The taller of the Jedi, however, is able to block each blow with his hands alone, while the second slumps to the floor, and prepares a second quick force push. Which connects with the Arulas' torso and sends him back down the hallway, though still on his feet.
The taller Jedi huffs and puffs from the exertion of blocking a lightsaber with the force. A hard thing to do for even the most seasoned Masters, yet one sentinel's are adept at. "How the hell is a failed padawan so damn strong!" His venting causes a perverse smile to form on his opponent's features.
Arulas regains his balance as he comes to a stop, his smile and piercing yellow eyes locked onto the Jedi. "A vendetta against those who wronged you can cause quite the emotional reaction!"
"So you have fallen to the dark side? To think Master Naren had such high hopes for his padawan, but if this is that prodigy than he must have been blind!" The Jedi hisses out before trying to centre himself. "I will remove the stain on his legacy."
For only the slightest moment, all things seem to stop for both the Jedi and Arulas. Their breaths and the hum of lightsabers, the only thing audible to them. As soon as the moment came, it was shattered by a shockwave of force sent forth by the Jedi. The blast roars down the hallway, deforming and contorting the very alloys it's made from. Witnessing the tremendous wall of force coming for him, Arulas places his hands out in front of him, the blade of the lightsaber retracted. The blast reaches him and suddenly stops, met with a force shield. Each tries to outdo the other, both men reaching into the depths of their powers to overcome the others force and potentially end the duel.
Ten seconds pass and neither back down in the match of force. The strain starts to become obvious on the Jedi, his panting turning to heavy heaving and his ability to stand failing him. Arulas, on the other hand, starts to pant himself, but just as the Jedi is about to fall to his knee he closes both of his hands. In an instant, the hallway changes and contorts inward directly in front of Arulas. The once-engaged separate blasts of force merge and are taken hostage by Arulas as he pulls all the panels, floor tiles and lastly the Jedi, towards him with a great deal of speed. Before then Jedi even realises what has happened he feels a burning sensation all through his chest. He looks down to find a yellow blade of plasma buried deep inside his torso, with a final sigh he turns his gaze back to Arulas.
"Yo...you won't bring down the C...Cult. The light side o...of the force will prevail!" His words are layered with gargle and spits of blood. The bloody spittle landing square on Arulas' face as he begins to laugh hysterically at the Jedi's expense.
The laugh lasts for a few seconds but eventually, it subsides into a sadistic smirk. "You are right, I won't bring them down. I'll eviscerate ever single scion of that pathetic cult, killing all linked to it no matter how little they know."
The hum of the lightsaber dissipates and the Jedi falls to the floor, his body completely unresponsive. Beyond content with two members of the cult dead, Arulas places both lightsabers back onto his belt. He kneels down next to the Jedi and begins to search for positions or anything that could lead him to more of the cult. Of the items, only one stands out, a symbol of some sort, though he does also take the personal holo-communicator. Stashing the device on his belt in an empty slot, he pushes himself back up and starts a brisk stride down the hall. Choosing to ignore the other Jedi's body, he starts to pick up his pace as he looks towards the airlock.
Reaching the airlock, Arulas messes about with the console, trying to forcefully open the airlock and give him access to the ship. Internally he begins to count the seconds as they pass, the ever impending threat of the station cascading into a full-blown meltdown before he can reach safety. That very stress manifests as prompts and a sort of rallying cry to force him to work quicker. Screen after screen passes but the airlock remains shut, however, the screen blinks a final time and reveals the face of a helmetless trooper.
"A survivor?" He questions, though he doesn't look convinced.
Arulas remembers his Jedi training and lets out a large breath. "Yes, the Jedi told me to use the console to contact the ship."
"Where are the Jedi now?" The trooper's question is one Arulas expected, though whether or not they'll accept the answer is beyond him.
"The prisoner used me to show him where they were, I was able to escape as they fought. They were headed for the hanger when I got to this console." Arulas explains in a sort of rushed way, indicative of a scarred civilian.
The trooper takes a few moments to deliberate, while Arulas subtle takes both lightsabers off of his belt. "Okay then, stand back with your hands in the air, we'll let you in when we confirm you're alone."
Arulas does exactly as instructed as the screen blinks off, taking a few steps back while hiding a lightsaber under each of his forearm armour plates. His hands rest in the air above him as the airlock begins to depressurise, slowly but surely opening up for him. The mist of the depressurising clears and reveals three troopers, two equipped with assault cannons on the flanks of the last who wields a blaster rifle. The flanking troopers aim their cannons at Arulas and await any instruction from the other trooper. All three were adorned with the standard Republic armour, a white base with blue accents to denote their legion. The trooper in the middle slowly looks over Arulas, trying to determine if his story was actually true. Though as he is about to speak, the protocol droids alert sounds again.
'Alert: Critical system failures. All systems offline. All docking clamps unresponsive. Basic life support remaining: seventeen minutes, standard time. Reactor meltdown in progress, core three's safe temperature exceeded. Estimated time until catastrophic failure: two minutes and twenty-three seconds.'
Hearing the alert, the trooper sheaths his blaster. "Welcome aboard. Quickly make your way to the hanger with the others we rescued." his voice sounds hurried as he gestures to follow him.
Doing as told, Arulas runs past the two heavily armed troopers and follows the trooper with the blaster rifle. The trooper makes no small talk as he escorts the former prisoner to the hanger of the Hammerhead-class cruiser. It takes less than a minute to reach the entrance of the hanger space, but before Arulas can enter the trooper places a hand on his shoulder.
"Were there any more survivors?" The troopers ask, his voice tone sounds like he's looking for relief, that they've saved all they can.
"I was the last one, I tried to save the others but they were killed by the prisoner." Arulas spins a tale as he drops his head to the floor.
The trooper nods in understanding and leaves Arulas to enter the hanger and wait for departure. However, Arulas knows that departure will never happen, his smile returning to his features as he watches the trooper fade into the distance. The droids alert is the fact for that, the docking clamps that are keeping the ship docked are unresponsive. Nothing short of severing them would allow the ship to leave, and they don't have the time to perform such a feat. A quick glance over the rather large hanger for a ship of this size returns results immediately. Near the other end of the hanger is a small Jedi shuttle, one of the few that come with a hyperdrive. Luckily it's a ship he's had training in since he and his former Master spent a lot of time in space travelling for the cult.
Without stopping to talk to the various figures who eye him cautiously, Arulas strides quickly in the direction of the ship. His mind reminds him of the time constant and he picks up his pace, crossing the hanger in a matter of seconds. The entrance to the starship is open, he'd believe he is lucky if he didn't know luck doesn't exist. He slowly edges up the ramp of the shuttle, looking around cautiously to see if anyone notices him enter. Exactly as he expects, everyone is too rattled or busy comforting others to notice him slip aboard and hit the shuttle ramp and door lock. The ramp retracts within a few seconds and the door slides shut, locking much like an airlock door does, depressurizing when fully locked.
Not wanting to savour the moment, Arulas makes his way towards the cockpit. An easy find as the ship is the exact one he was forcefully trained abroad as a padawan. Three chairs sit in front of the primary viewport, each surrounded by consoles. He takes a seat in the centre most one and begins preparing each system required for launch, as well as the anti-personnel turrets just in case. All the screens flicker to life, the consoles lights turn on as the ship's engines roar into existence. On one of the screens to his left, he can see the externals of the ship, such as the crowd of people now looking in the direction of the shuttle. With an evil smirk, Arulas flicks a switch labelled 'turret auto targeting'.
Four anti-personnel turrets exit the hull of the ship, two below the nose of the shuttle and two at the rear. Each one turns to face any part of the crowd it can directly fire at, but does not fire. A few clicks on the screens and a few command lines imputed and the turrets wire to life and soon enough send bolt and bolt at the unsuspecting Republic personnel. Panic quickly ensues as corpses of the dead are sent flying from the force of the blaster bolts. Others lucky enough to not get hit, cower behind whatever cover they can reach. Troopers soon enough charge into the hanger and open fire on the shuttle, though their small arms are no match for the small shield generated by the shuttle.
The turrets continue to fire while the ship's engines begin to spool up and lift the ship into the air. In the cockpit, Arulas puts in the required hanger codes he found on the top of one of the consoles and gives the ship some throttle. Moving forward slowly at first, the ship exits through the hangers atmosphere shield and once clear, Arulas slams the throttle to max speed. The shuttle rockets from the edge of the Republic cruiser, soon enough creating mile upon mile of distance between the two.
The internal countdown Arulas started in his head reaches five minutes and seven seconds, prompting him to input commands into the consoles. Upon finishing, the screen to his right changes and displays the rear facing holocam, which holds the station in the centre of its view. Not a moment after the station glows bright, brighter by the second before a flash obscures the holocam. His perverse smiles grows as he sets about performing the last few details before he can enter hyperspace. The holocam continues to relay the beyond violent explosion of the station, and a visible shockwave that inches closer to the shuttle faster than the shuttle can escape it.
Not wanting to become space dust from the shockwave's force, Arulas doubles the speed at which he places the information into the nav computer. The wave, only a few hundred meters from the ship, nears the shuttle just as he pulls back on the hyperdrive lever sending the ship hurtling from the current plain and into hyperspace.