Not A Sith
A GHG Story
Based on the Sith Warrior Storyline
For all the things that had gone wrong, Vette had to admit, things could have been worse for a Twi'lek like herself.
Sure – alright – fine … she was in a Sith prison on a Sith controlled planet for attempting to steal an ancient artifact. Not the best of circumstances, in fact, most would consider it the worst of circumstances. Torture by day and cramped in a cell at all other times, only made worse by the "Wonderful" Sith spice blend.
But Vette wasn't an ordinary idiot; Vette was a special, cunning, and overzealous idiot, the kind of idiot that tried stealing for the sake of stealing. Why else was she on this stupid, dirt-ridden, dead planet - sightseeing? Granted, the tomb she tried stealing from had its own allure to it and Vette had an eye for such things. Sure, she could take her chance on the occasional trinket and bauble, but if she was there then she might as well have appreciated the sights.
Though, that may have been why she was caught this time.
The first whiff of breath hurt her nostrils as she rubbed her eyes. Vette should have gotten used to the scent by now, but no. It was so clean everywhere and even her prison cell felt oily with dried chemicals. Metal bars encased her in a tight, featureless cell measured several paces around. That meant no cots, no amenities, and half decent food was out of the question, but damn, it was clean.
Aside from the scent and waking up to cleaning droids poking away at her, these tiny accommodations beat out Hutt slave pens and brothel hovels any day. Besides, she'd get used to the sanitization eventually. It was a matter of when rather than how.
What she wasn't used to was the metal weight around her neck. As she pulled herself up to her feet, the Twi'lek just barely balanced herself and her hand instinctively came up to her neck. A vibrant shock rocked her body and she fell backwards, hand clenched and pulled away in fear. Dull pain oozed out from her shoulder and as the numbness around her neck passed, the Twi'lek croaked a stifled moan.
"Uuuuhhggn," Vette leaned back, careful not to reach up again. Stupid Sith slave tech, Hutts and other slavers only used these for non-essentials and unprofitable slaves, but apparently, Sith weren't in the business of keeping prisoners or slaves pretty. Most slavers used chains and metal collars as installing full on slave collars would cost some pretty pennies. Slaves only got them if they were rowdy or once their masters got them. Hard to think that she was in an expensive collar, but barely a few days in and she was hating it more and-
"HNnn!" she squirmed. The collar squealed or perhaps it was her. She didn't know as she twisted around, fighting to reach up as the slave collar burned her senses. Everything seemed white, hot, and blurry, even as the shock died down. Vette was already beginning to curse a name under her breath, even before her vision came back to her. She already knew who had done her in.
"Had a nice nap?"
A smug voice echoed through the small prison and Vette turned to the voice, "Ow, what was that for? I didn't even do anything."
"Yet," the jailer hissed. She saw his vague shape before she recognized the balding, bearded human. He waved her collar's trigger in his hand before he stepped back, "Just wanted to remind you who has the trigger."
She rolled her eyes, leaning her back against the bars as she sat up. Her eyes glared at the human garbage that was Knash. The jailor's expression wrinkled around his furrowed brow, forever frowning and forever grumbling. Vette assumed the man's face was forever cursed to remain in the same state though from what, she could not tell. Perhaps some lover spurned him about his baldness, or a Sith found Knash to just be that much of a dick. In any case, she wasn't going to say a word. She didn't need to give Knash a reason to shock her.
She quickly changed her mind when she saw the other cells to her left. Much to her surprise, these cells finally contained actual prisoners. Hooray, she'd finally received some company and better yet, they were nothing alike.
"Congrats, you have the trigger," she finally said, crossing her arms.
"You got that right so you're gonna keep quiet now. We're going to 'ave a visitor in here soon. He's busy and I'm busy, so if you make me busier than I need to be, we're going to have a bit more fun with this collar.
She refrained from chirping back about how that would make him even more busy as an easy quip. She had enough to deal with. Looking as calm and collected as she could, she gave her jailor a slow nod and he quietly began to put back the trigger. He took a couple seconds to watch Vette before he turned and almost immediately, she turned to face her fellow prisoners.
The first and closest to her looked to be some beat-up human woman. She had a look in her eye, stern and unyielding. Judging by the marks, the lady had been tortured, perhaps beaten or electrocuted. Vette shuddered – Sith torturers. Vette had been lucky to avoid them since she had cooperated the moment she was caught. The Twi'lek only had the occasional shock therapy to help "encourage" proper behavior.
The lady seemed to notice Vette and turned away, but Vette didn't take it personally. It was smart, and Vette should have followed suit. But Vette was going to push her luck.
The third and furthest prisoner was another human. He was even older than Knash, marred by scars and cybernetic implants sprinkled across his face. Unlike the woman, he had actively taken a gander towards Vette, which she hoped to be promising. Alas, the man turned away, but unlike the woman, however, the male prisoner looked sour, almost like a familiar jailor.
Well then, that would be yet another person to avoid. Perhaps the middle one would be better. She caught a glimpse of him when she stared at the third one and it was only when Vette inched forward that she saw a brown skinned Neimoidian, curled up on the floor and cowering.
Ouch, three chances for a conversation and all three were busts. Vette turned towards Knash, fighting the urge to start something. The twi'lek felt her sides begin to tremble, her body feeling the onset case of sheer boredom before she cracked.
Every other time she had been captured, Vette always had something to do. Whether it was checking out her cell one minute or conversing with her fellow inmates, she occupied her time. More importantly, there were always flaws that Vette had been able to exploit. Here, on the other hand, Vette had the unfortunate circumstance of being stuck in the cell for all hours of the day. She ate, slept, and well, yea … she did that in her cell as well. These Sith had gotten the information out of her and now she was waiting. She had yet to hear of plans for her, good or bad. It was all too strange, but then again, what did she know. If Sith had their own time schedules, then she was at their mercy, made to suffer through the chidings of a grumbling jailor and through the monotony of looking forward to nothing.
But maybe, just maybe …
"So, what are you in here for?" Vette muttered. She tried to throw her voice towards her left, hoping it would catch the lady's attention. The lady turned for a brief moment, almost surprised to hear a voice out of Vette.
"What?" the lady spat.
"What are you in here for," Vette repeated, quieting down as she waited for the jailor to dip outside for a hot second, "Not like we're doing anything else."
"Buzz off," The lady quickly turned away again.
Vette grumbled, "Come on, it's not like it's going to hurt you."
"Not interested," For a lady that was supposedly tortured, she still had quite a bite. Maybe the Nemoidian would be more open?
"Psst, do you talk?"
The bug-eyed wrinkly alien twitched. Vette could never tell between females and males until they talked, but she was sure this one happened to be male. A pathetic male, to be sure, but that was most Nemoidians. When he finally turned her way, she waved.
"What are you in here for?"
The Nemoidian didn't respond. Slimy weirdo was more focused on the door than the Twi'lek asking questions. She wasn't going to get a response from him either. The last would be … well, the mean one. The third male at the end was on his knees and meditating.
"Hey, metal man. You got a second-"
"Don't talk to me, worm. I have no want or will to deal with your kin."
Pretentious, okay. So, she had a bitch, a twitcher, and a racist asshole all for neighbors – what lovely company. Worse yet, none of them seemed to have an expensive collar on them, even the bitch. Either these three were on death row or she had the luxury of meeting prisoners that were treated with some modicum of respect. She would come to doubt the former as Jailor Knash came running back in with a data pad and a determined look.
"All right you lot, listen up," his voice rumbled out from his throat, "You're about to meet a very special man, a Sith Acolyte. He's going to judge you all and then determine your sentence – execution or trial by combat."
"Oh, scary," Vette muttered as the man continued.
"This acolyte's something special so I want all of you to be on your best behavior. I've been asked to do this for someone I respect so if I think any of you are trying to throw off this fookin' trial, well, I'll be sure to let the Sith know. I'm sure he'll judge you accordingly," Knash typed away at his datapad to which Vette noticed a recording beginning to play, "No desperate acts, no messes in my cells, and nothing else out of the ordinary. The three of you are going to be on your best behavior."
"Three?" Vette suddenly spoke up. First the new prisoners ignore her and now Knash does the same? What had come to this galaxy to cause such a terrible series of events, "What about me? They've been here less than an hour and you're getting them tried?"
"Quiet you," Knash put the datapad down, wagging his finger, "You're not worth the good Overseer's time … and in case you hadn't noticed, they're not getting some Republic trial. You're on Korriban so it's execution or trial by combat."
"Pfft, right," she was so done with Knash, "If you wanted me dead, you would have done it by now. I bet someone's real interested with what I was doing and now you gotta wait till everything's squared away. At this rate, I'll die of boredom long before you Sith get to me."
Knash reached for her collar controller a lot quicker than she thought possible. For an old man, the guy had reflexes and instead of just a finger, he was glaring at her with a finger right on the trigger.
"One more chirp from you little bird, and you'll regret it."
Screw this asshole, screw him sideways and his jailcell too, "Chirp, chirp-chirp chirp chirp. Chir- hNNnggg."
Hot fire shot through her veins as her neck and shoulders began to spasm out of control. She could take the electricity quite well, but as time wore on, she was starting to feel the shock treatment last longer than it should have. Shit, shit, shit! He wasn't holding back!
"You little Twi'lek garbage diver. You're right, I can't kill you … but I can at least boil your eyes and cripple you for life."
Vette didn't know when she hit the floor, but suffice it to say, everything was both numb and in pain. Perhaps it was the pain itself that was numbing all other senses. The machinery in her collar, so delicate and structurally sound, kept her torture at the perfect level of painful while still holding back as to prevent her nerves from completely frying. When was this going to end? Was he really going to blind her?!
"OI, is this the - uhh dungeon place- Oh," a loud, obnoxious voice cut through the pain and with it came the sweet relief of bliss. Her neck was shock-free, but her body still shuddered with post-traumatic twitching.
Who was her mysterious savior? The Twi'lek could barely move her neck, only just managing to smear her face against the ground. Though blurred and blinded by the shocking collar, Vette managed to see a figure standing in the door. It was blinding, she had to blink as the light hit her eyes.
"Fuck … you two like, need a minute? This is some kinky shit."
She could hear various choking noises across the room. Some from her fellow prisoners as they held back surprised laughs and one even from grumbly ol' Knash himself. Even Vette coughed up some half laugh before she continued listening in, the pain in her body fading as she pushed herself to her knees.
"Th-The, WHAT? Are you- who the-"
"I mean like … is this a sex dungeon? Yuh got like a whip and shit, and like, I ain't gonna judge, yuh know? Tuh each their own-"
"Those whips sear flesh, you little shit. Who in their right minds would have a sex dungeon in a Sith academ- wait a minute - who the hell are you? You don't even sound imperial. Where's your uniform?"
Knash had an excellent point. The man didn't sound imperial in the slightest. He sounded … foreign. Of all her travels, she had never heard anyone speaking as roughly and jumpy as this one. He sounded like a backwater kid, but the accent was thick, laid heavy in each word suggesting a culturally ingrained accent. She really needed to get a look at this guy, but her eyes weren't adjusting.
"Well, yur a bald cunt, but you don't see me sayin' that shit to yur fuckin' face."
Laughter kicked Vette in the chest as she snickered. She didn't even care anymore. Who in the world was this guy? If anything, she was more worried about never getting a look at the stranger than being painfully electrocuted.
She was relieved to hear him put down her shock switch, but that was when she heard the hum of a vibroblade, "Answer my question."
"Eh, fuhget about it," Vette presumed the stranger was walking around Knash as the footsteps circled around Knash. He came right up to her cell when she heard him talk again, "I'm from yuh boy Tremel, that overseer guy. Jesus Christ, put the toy down, yuh gonna hurt yuhself."
Tremel? The overseer? Wait, that meant-
Vette rubbed away at her eyes, desperate to see the Sith that Knash had been eager to hype up. She may have not been impressed before, but as she pulled her head back up, focusing that horrid vision of her's, she certainly had some kind of impression.
Tall … really tall.
Vette wasn't the tallest of Twi'leks and Twi'leks weren't that tall to begin with, but she recognized tall when she saw it. It was the first thing she noticed as her vision returned, details trickling in as her eyes focused.
Color always took a second to adjust, so she thought she was seeing things when she noticed his hair. Turned out, yea, he really did have white hair, a long messy mane that came down to his shoulders. He had a young, oval face marked by a harsh green stare and a lipped sneer. For a moment, she thought his lips to be darker than most humans, a trick of the light she assumed. It was only when she tried to stand that she saw the shading along his lips were no such overcast, but rather a true mark of color. The black lipstick held a sheen as he tilted his head back up.
"Fuckin' Christ," he said, click his tongue, "Yer so … blue … and blue."
Vette blinked. Was there – no, there wasn't anything in the cell with her. A quick visual check of her surroundings made sure of that. Was he referring to her?
"Yea? That's my skin color."
The stranger shrugged. He stood there staring without a care for a world and Vette grew concerned for just a moment. Just as things were getting weird, Knash, of all people, came to the rescue.
"Wait a minute, you're the acolyte Overseer Tremel's been talking about?" the jailor put his blade away in a hurry. He seemed to be shocked, annoyed, and exasperated. For once, Vette could empathize.
The tall figure turned to Knash, hair whipping along before he blew a few locks of hair off his face, "Yee, somethin' like that. So, do I need tuh take off my pants or-"
"For the last time," Knash said as he strode up to the man, "This isn't a fookin' sex dungeon. This is a jail, I'm a jailor and you're right pissin' me off."
Even with the man's back turned, Vette could imagine an eye roll. This guy just didn't give a shit, did he? Actually, now that she thought about it, this guy didn't really look like an acolyte to begin with. He wasn't wearing anything ergonomic and clean, like an imperial uniform, nor was he dressed in the robes she had seen the Sith wear.
If anything, his clothes were different, almost alien. They were made of fabrics, which was strange enough as they were, with a white overcoat draped over a black jacket. He wore a black form fitting trousers, had a white shirt underneath and, to top it all off, a purple piece of … something. Whatever it was, it slipped around his neck, on top of the white and slipping down into the black part of his jacket.
He was just getting stranger and stranger by the second.
"If yuh say so, alright. Just don't let me catch yuh wearin' a gimp suit."
Oh, this was rich. What else could Vette possibly wish for? Knash was fuming, fingers massaging his temples in some vain effort to contain rage. The other prisoners may have been a visibly uncomfortable, but this was the only entertainment she had in days.
"Exar Kun my ass," Knash was waving him away, no doubt trying to get rid of the one interesting soul in this bleak and sanitized chamber, "Just do your test. You have your three prisoners here. Inspect them, judge them and then get out so I don't 'ave to see you again."
"Ehh, fuck you too," the stranger spat before walking looking back at Vette, "Alright then … what tuh do-"
"Not 'er. Go to the next one," The white-haired man cursed to himself as he stomped his foot.
"Fuck, I had the perfect thing too. She's guilty of bein' blue so she gotta wear blueberries fer the rest of her life."
Knash growled, but Vette had a thorough chuckle at the joke, though she didn't know what a blueberry really was. She could only assume that it was a berry that was … well, blue. How was that going to work then? Was she going to wear clothes made of blueberries? Was she going to slip into a giant blueberry? Vette tried to stop thinking about it as the man went to the cell next to Vette's.
"Your first prisoner here is Solentz and she-"
"You freaks aren't getting anything out of me. Just do whatever you're gonna do!"
Vette turned her head in surprise. For someone so keen on not being in pain, the woman certainly knew how to lash. The stranger whistled Solentz' way.
"Hot fuckin' damn. Yur a spicy bitch."
Knash seemed to ignore the man's comment, butting in before the stranger could continue, "This one was sent to kill an imperial spy in the Yavin system. Throughout her torture, she maintained that she was hired anonymously."
"Yea, so I had no idea he was imperial, and I don't know who hired me. It's a part of the job, a job that the Empire pays for."
The tall, white haired acolyte was shaking his head, "I mean, she doesn't seem like she's lyin' and isn't that how it's always done? Keeps names outta the papers."
Knash coughed in, "Point is, she doesn't deny the charge. Even if she isn't some republic assassin, she's still got blood on 'er hands. You need to decide the sentence."
"Just get it over with," Solentz spat, "I'm done dealing with your inquisitors. Whatever you got, I'll take-"
"Death by giraffe."
The first part of the sentence was clear. The second part however … hmm, even Knash was turning his head.
"I'm sorry?" the jailor asked.
"Death by giraffe," the acolyte pushed his hair back, before turning to Knash, "You ever seen a giraffe? I'mma be honest, I don't trust things with long necks and have you seen those sons-a-bitches? They're hidin' something. Fuckin' toys-are-us lookin' asses."
Knash was, for a lack of a better term, completely speechless. Vette was wondering if she were in a dream and the very lady accepting the charge seemed to be wondering the same thing. Even with the threat of death hanging with every word, everything seemed so surreal.
"We can do the death part. You'll carry out the sentence so you can kill 'er-"
"Nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh, I want a giraffe tuh do it."
Knash's patience looked like it was wearing thin, but somehow, he continued, "We don't have giraffes-"
"Alright, death by hippo."
Knash shook his head, "No."
"Death by chihuahua."
"Uh-uh."
"Death by piranhas."
"What's that?"
"Death by rattlesnakes."
"Never 'eard of 'em."
"Death by gay rattlesnakes."
"I don't even know what a rattlesnake is, let alone a gay one."
"Death by celery."
"That's a vegetable."
"Death by ass."
"Stop it."
"Death by penis."
"NOT A SEX DUNGEON."
"Death by song?"
"Is that even possible?"
"Have you heard uh dubstep."
"Not going to ask."
"Well fuck," the stranger threw his hands up, "What am I suppose tuh do then?"
"You could just kill her."
"Mmmm, Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah," he said, waving his hand away, "Yuh know what, she's free. Let 'er do her job and shit. Betta' yet, give her a job so she kills fer yuh guys. Yuh got like a business card or somethin'?"
The lady almost looked like she was about to faint; Vette could relate. How many close calls with death had the assassin dodged in that conversation alone? Granted, Vette had a feeling the acolyte was joking … but a part of her remained cautious. Something felt off about the man's constant callousness.
"You're letting her go? Why?"
"Cause I said so."
A hand came over the jailor's ever wrinkling brow, furrowing deeper into a crevice seemed to push into his skull. If Vette had made the man this frustrated, she would have been served on a platter, freshly charred and twitching. Kind of made her wonder if he always dealt with people like the strange Sith … but then again, even she could see the guy was an anomaly.
Deciding to push down her thoughts, she watched as the man marched over to the next cell with the jailor in tow.
"Alright, this one's Brehg. He's a jittery little wretch-"
"I mean, the guy's a fuckin' walnut with eyes, a livin' nutsack."
Vette broke the mood as she squeaked with snickers, though her own mind begged to stop so she could hear more of this awful comedy playing before her. Knash's face was getting redder by the second, made only more obvious from his lack of hair.
"He's suspected of forging documents to Republic agents, but he's denied the charges."
"Daymn, look at this guy," the strange acolyte seemed impressed, "Ain't talkin' tuh no body, ain't squealin' on yuh boys. I like it."
Vette had never seen a Neimoidian jump to his feet as hurried as this one. If she had to guess, this was the best chance the so called "nut sack" had to being free.
"I'm innocent I tell you. I am! Believe me – I had nothing to do with forging no papers," Brehg spat in his alien language.
"Eh, man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, yuh know?" the man turned to Knash, "So, what the fuck are we supposed tuh do about it?"
"How about charging him for something and giving an actual sentence?" Knash grumbled, but the man frowned.
"Oi, he didn't do anything," the man said before turning, giving Brehg a wink.
"So he claims … he's never wavered from that line - even through torture – but send him through your inquisitor and I'll bet he talks."
"My inquisitors? I got inquisitors?"
"The Sith inquisitors."
"My Sith inquisitors?"
"The School's Sith inquisitors."
The stranger rolled his eyes, "Fuck me. My inquisitors, your inquisitors, blah blah blah. Too much work. He's free – on one condition."
"Yes, yes! Anything," Brehg said as he fell to his knees. Knash was
The stranger leaned forward, staring down at the brown alien with a manic smile. Vette began to wonder if the Nemoidian had chosen wisely until the man spoke, "I want a second, secret identity - Penis DickButt Guy. Can get me it?"
"I … excuse me?"
The acolyte stood up straight, "Yea, yuh heard me. Give me like, an altered, secret, second identity?"
"But wouldn't the point of an alternate identity be for secrecy and not to call attention to yourself?"
"I mean, yea," he stood back up. He looked conflicted until … he just wasn't conflicted. At this point, Vette couldn't tell what he was thinking, "But like, it'd be fun."
The Neimoidian seemed confused, though Vette wasn't sure why. Was the request out of character from what they had seen? Knash seemed to be done, but at any moment, the man was going to interrupt again. Seeing this, Vette cleared her throat drawing all attention to her, "Doesn't sound too hard too hard, right? Not a bad price for freedom."
"Uh … AH, yes," Brehg answered, nodding to Vette first before nodding more frantically towards the strange Sith acolyte, "I … I can do what you asked. Am I free?"
"Oi," Vette jumped as the tall man's head snapped towards her, "What's yur name?"
"Uhh … Vette?"
"Got it. So, blueberry," Vette opened her mouth, but decided to not correct the strange man, "Do you trust this guy? Dis nut-sack lookin' mother fucker?"
Vette pursed her lips, "I mean … sure?"
"EYyyy," the acolyte slapped the side of the cage. Brihg skittered away just in time before the man could slap him as well, "Yuh mah boy now. You and me, tuh-getha'. If yuh fuckin' run, I'll find yuh family and eat their faces. Yeee."
"I- Wh-" Knash's mouth was left agape, "Again? Another free one?"
Vette rolled her eyes. Freedom was a relative concept here. Brehg was certainly more free than originally, but Vette was feeling a bit of Déjà vu when the stranger talked about eating people's faces.
"Jesus, yuh that soulless? Look at this dude's face? Give 'im a break, will yuh?"
All insults aside, Brehg was happy to comply, that or he was happy to be guaranteed safety. Both him and Solentz still looked hesitant and Vette wondered if Knash would rescind the Sith's judgments. A part of Vette wondered if the stranger even knew that Brehg wasn't human … but she's refrain from speaking. For now Knash was certainly looking like he was starved of something as he practically drooled bringing the man to the last cell.
"This pile of waste is Devotek. Now the last two, I'll give you some credit. I ain't heard of prisoners going unscathed through this trial; most of you acolytes are trigger happy."
"Well no shit. I'm the most special of acolytes. I'm fuckin' special as shit. Super special. The kinda special that has special edition classes."
"Clearly," Knash muttered before he continued, "Ahem, but regardless of how you feel, this one is a nice special case for you. He's responsible for a thousand Imperial deaths after he botched an important mission. Better yet, he's one of our number, Sith."
The acolyte was intrigued, "Oooh big baddy, alright. Yuh got my attention."
Vette was equally intrigued. It certainly explained the venomous glare the man had for her. The other two prisoners
"I served faithfully for twenty-four years, then one mistake," the Sith swept his hand as though clearing dust across his face, "And they threw me way."
One mistake caused a thousand imperial deaths? That must have been a huge mistake.
"That's a big fuckin' mistake if you got a thousand dudes killed."
Vette wondered if the guy read her mind, but she shook her head. He was a Sith, right? She wouldn't be surprised if he heard her think now.
"An ambush is hardly a calculable mistake. Chaos had descended down the ranks and by the time I had enough control to call for a retreat, the damage had been done. If I were to harken a guess, it would be that one of our number was a spy."
"Which is why the rest of his group's been cut down," Knash finally said, "Naturally, we leave the biggest fish for you. Judge 'im for his crimes."
The acolyte leaned forward, eyes narrowing as he squinted, "So, I just do the same thing to the other guys?"
"No!" the Sith stood to his feet, "I have been left here to rot. To be made free would do me no good. I need to feel the weight of a weapon once more."
Vette rolled her eyes. Melodramatic much? She looked to the strange acolyte, fully expecting the guy to make another joke or to throw the Sith under the bus … up until she noticed the shroud of emotion that covered his face.
"So, what do I gotta do?" he said eyeing the older man. It was different, almost thoughtful
"What do you think," Knash spat as he stood next to the man, "Judge him, boy."
"Boy?" the acolyte turned to Knash and it was at this point that Vette noticed how he towered over Knash. Wow, he was really tall, "What's yuh deal?"
"It's your test to fail," Knash growled, "I already told you, execute or trial by combat or something."
"Fuck you," the man rolled his shoulders. He was turning to leave, "This isn't any 'uh my business. He got a boss, right? Get that cunt tuh pull the trigger."
"He doesn't have a 'boss,' acolyte. He has a judge, jury and executioner. Now pass the sentence."
Without warning, the acolyte turned, and Vette caught a glimpse of the man's distasteful expression. He was sickened – disgusted even – but Knash was holding his ground. Knash was ready to explode. Another word was going to set the jailor off … which probably meant some retribution for Vette. Shit, she hadn't considered that.
Vette was starting to squirm uncomfortably. At least Knash wasn't looking at her right now, but things could change … if the guy completely stopped talking.
"Here's my sentence, someone else can go fuck with him. Maybe you can do yuh job fer once and hold 'im in a fuckin' cell."
The jailor spat to his left, hands on his hips. Vette grimaced as she saw it land in one of the bars and splash on the Nemoidian's leg, but she kept quiet, "You got a problem with me, you should say it straight. You've been nothin' but a pain in my ass the moment you got 'ere."
"Pfft," a snort erupted from the stranger's dark lips, "I don't have a problem with you. I just don't feel like killing people I don't know."
"Is that right? Heh," Knash spat a laugh, almost coughing.
"What's so funny?"
"A Sith that doesn't like killin', that's rich. Are you a fookin' joke?"
Vette groaned. Okay, so it got worse. Knash was wagging his finger in the acolyte's face to which said acolyte responded with a glare. She'd seen this game of chicken plenty of times and no matter where she had gone, this stupid game was bound to drag her in if she wasn't careful. She tried to look as small as she could … perhaps that would keep her out of the conversation.
"No? I think?" the acolyte rolled his neck, cracking it as he sighed, "Yer point?"
"That's it, you're done," Knash said, suddenly pulling out a holocommunicator, "I'm calling Overseer Tremel."
The acolyte scoffed, "You that salty? Just cause I like fuckin' with yuh?"
"You're a waste of talent, boy. No respect, no thought for anyone else. You almost made me laugh with that comment - what was it now? Oh yea, don't like killin' things, do you?"
"I mean, no point in killin' things I don't give a shit for."
"No point? No … point? Love that flawless logic of your's. Your existence doesn't 'ave a point compared to what you 'ave with the Sith. Ungrateful sack of garbage. You have no idea, no understanding."
Knash turned, clearly flustered and no longer wanting to deal with acolyte. He rummaged through his things and the white-haired man followed each step with his eyes. He looked different. He didn't seem to say anything either.
"You know, I was getting' real 'opeful about Overseer Tremel's star pupil. He said that you were the next comin' of Exar Kun, the Sith to lead us out of the shadow of the Republic. Every other acolyte gets their trial off world, but your Overseer talked to me, asked me, begged me to get you three prisoners to judge right here. I didn't 'ave to do what he asked, but I did. You know why? Because I actually respect that man to death."
For once, the young man actually looked sour. Clearly, he wasn't into getting talked down to, "Oi, you can shut up now-"
"I do all this, keep this fookin' jail clean, pull all my contacts to get you your prisoners – then you do this to me? You spit in my face. Very funny. What family you from, eh? Probably rich, right? Got a free meal all day, every day. Then you come here with your money and you flaunt it off, get a free ride while the rest of us have to work 'ard."
Honestly, the words themselves weren't very harsh themselves. Vette wouldn't have thought it any different than the other insults had the acolyte not gone eerily quiet. For the first moments of silence, she found herself relieved. Perhaps he had finally learned something.
"There's only one fookin' problem. This isn't your 'ome. This is Korriban. Better, hard-working, dedicated Sith are all around you, ready to take you out. You think you can get a free ride here? You think you'll just get by with your jokes? Pah – you're not a Sith. You're just another animal for the slaughter. Just another boy's corpse, another worthless body, another-"
*Pop*
Vette heard the sound before she felt something hit her. It was so sudden, so quick and yet her body reacted accordingly, flinching as she reached with her hands. There was a feminine shriek and an unmistakable squeal of a Nemoidian howling in fear. It was a liquid, hot and pungent in scent. She didn't recognize it at first, but as it began to crust over and dry on her skin, she knew what it was, human blood.
As she opened her eyes, her left eye stung. She thought she was hurt, but no, in fact, it was just … more blood. So much blood, so much red fluid, all over the cages, all over her face. The prisoners. Her eyes naturally came to focus on the strange, white haired man and behind him she saw Knash.
More accurately, she saw Knash sliced into three, uneven segments. Fuck, was that his heart … his lungs? They were twitching as Knash groaned, her previous torturer now in a state of utter torment as the stale air stung against open, torn flesh.
"So then … what is it, six minutes till brain death without oxygen?" the man grabbed Knash's twitching face. The dying man stared up as the blood fizzled out.
"Yea, I'm a shitty Sith … but there are worse things out there than fuckin' Sith, worse things like … me. Yuh think you know how it all works, but yuh don't – do yuh? Thought you could get away with pissin' me off. I didn't say I don't like killin' … I just don't like doin' it fer a lil bitch like you."
"What the hell are you?"
Of all the people to hear such words, it was Vette that was most surprised. To hear herself speak reverently while fear ate at her throat felt cathartic, like returning to an out of body experience after days of watching yourself frozen. It didn't help when he turned towards her with a smile on his face.
"Oi, blueberry, what did yuh say?"
Vette gulped. She could keep quiet but as she saw his tall form walk closer towards her while her body seemed to shrink. His green pupils seemed to stare deep into her soul, no longer looking like a simple joking matter. This man was mad, absolutely, completely-
"I … I just asked – you – your …"
Vette heard the bars screech as he bent them out of the way with his bare hands.
"I'm the worst thing out there. I'm the fucker that comes fer yuh family when yuh can't clean yuh laundry. I'm the shit bag that hunts down biggest and baddest, just cause they think they're bigger and badder than me. I'm hungry, I'm viscious, I'm unkillable, unstoppable, god damn fucking amazing."
Holy fuck, this guy was going to kill her. He was serious. Had he really been joking? Or hell, was everything a complete joke to him? She waited a moment, hoping to god he'd answer or just do something to put an end to this craziness.
And just as suddenly as he had flipped, just as suddenly as he had killed Knash with a single swipe of the hand, he turned away. Vette could still see his smile as he turned the corner.
"I'm Veeda fuckin' Vega."
Hello all. Thanks for reading. I'm thinking about keeping this as a one-shot unless people like it enough for me to continue. If I continue this, I'll either continue Veeda's story or play around in the SWTOR universe with people from Veeda's canon.
Please review. I appreciate all critiques.