Note: This entry is more of a prologue. The main story will come in the next entry, about a year after these events happened.
Ch. I
The rain fell from the sky in ropes, curling on the ground in inky pools. It chattered on the abandoned Courascant street, interrupting the silence and the image of the half moon floating in a thousand puddles.
In a nicer neighborhood, it might have smelled like wet earth and growing plants, but in the slums the metallic scent of gasoline penetrated the air. The neon lights from the hole-in-the-wall bar across the street burned through the curtain of rain, its music not heard more than felt, throbbing through the sidewalk.
A girl's shadow flitted over the wall as she dashed into the street. Her black cloak streamed behind her like a wedding train. The girl takes a quick glance behind her, her breath coming in short pants. Her face is slick with rain or sweat, and her eyes reflect the moon like a thousand mirror shards. She's strikingly human, or at least a close breed, and possesses a coveted caramel tan that speaks of wealthy ease and sun. It's obvious she doesn't belong here.
A crowd of men break into the street like water from a damn. They belong here, to the rough streets and harsh darkness that bleaches their skin an almost sickly pale. Their work boots scatter the puddles and they close in as the girl comes to an abrupt stop. Her shoes slip on the tiles and she only just regains her balance.
The rain is the only sound for a moment. Then,
"Easy, sweetheart. We don't want to cause trouble, which is more than we can say for you." One of them steps forward and spreads his arms in a gesture of easiness but the action is betrayed by his narrowed eyes. "You should have left us alone. We were ready to do the same, even if you were such a pretty little thing."
The girl produced a weapon from the folds of her cloak. It was silver and sleek, and if her looks didn't spell out MONEY the blaster certainly did.
The other men responded with weapons of their own; cruder but somehow more menacing. Black blasters and humming vibroblades. The leader pulled out a long silver tube and, as he ran the pad of his thumb over a button, it crackled to life. Violet electricity arced from it, reaching towards the girl with white fingers. The rain hissed and turned to steam around it.
"Now here's how it's going to go." The man twisted it around casually, letting the girl's eyes follow it through the moon-bleached air. "You'll put down your weapon and kick it to me. You will then remove your fancy play-pretend cloak - which I know is lined with real fur, by the way - and also place any valuables you have at your feet. And don't think I didn't notice that nice little necklace around your throat. Put that down too."
Nothing. Until,
"Unless, of course, you want us to rip it from you."
The girl didn't move. If anything she only planted her feet and crouched lower, moving into a fighting stance. The muzzle of her blaster flashed.
The man shrugged, and the electricity around his staff seemed to intensify. "Suit yourself."
They had only taken one step when they were stopped.
A bolt from the girl stopped the man to the leader's right, but that's about as far as she went because a figure in black suddenly appeared beside her. One second there was only open air, the next second he filled it: tall, broad shoulders, smothered in black that seemed darker than black, blacker than the night that surrounded them, even. He wasn't just dark: he seemed to absorb the light, drawing it in and doing away with it. He was just a body of shadow, like an ocean at night with no moon.
A red, three-pronged blade appeared in his hands. Brighter than blood, like a raw ruby. It rivaled the purple of the leader, more than rivaled, and even it couldn't reveal the features of the hooded man- if it was a man. If anything it just added more shadow to him, another layer, a red filter of blood against the darkness of his cloak. The blade screamed with energy.
He leapt forward and drew a glowing line through the leader's waist. There was a second of silence, where not even the rain seemed to breathe, before he crumpled to the ground, as lifeless as a puppet with its strings cut. There was no yell of pain, of fear. No scream. Just alive one second and somewhere else the next.
The girl screamed for him: a cutting, clear scream that seemed to waken the world again. Her eyes were stuck to the collapsed man in front of her.
The dark figure still wasted no time. He was faster than them, much faster, and cut each one down with the same brutal efficiency as the first. Only the last one had enough wits about him to start retreating before the blade severed his head from his body.
And then there was silence again. The rain continued. The blade now faded to a quiet hum, as if it had been excited by the prospect of battle but now had been satisfied. The girl was frozen. The man didn't move.
The blade disappeared, leaving a small cylinder in the man's hand. He rushed back to the girl, forgetting his victims.
His hands ripped off her hood, revealing a tumble of dark hair. "You idiot!" His voice was like the deep thrum of a bass guitar. The kind that throbbed into the soles of your feet until you mistook it for the beat of your own heart. "You promised me to stop!" He placed his hands on the sides of her face, the pads of his thumbs brushing against her cheek in a strangely intimate manner. And then all of the anger seemed to drain out of him as he said, "Are you hurt?"
The contact seemed to awaken her. She stepped back, out of his reach, eyes glued to him, mouth still agape. She seemed to be struggling not to look back towards the ground, as if the sight of her fallen assaulters hurt her. Then,
"You killed them."
"What?" The man glanced over his shoulder and then shook his head in impatience. Part of his hood became dislodged, and for one second the moonlight embraced his features: pale skin, a hint of black hair plastered to his forehead. "Not important. Now tell me, are you hurt-"
"No. No. Not not important." She seemed to regain most of her speech now, and anger colored her tone. "You killed them."
"They were going to kill you!"
"They just wanted my money! And you killed them!"
"Stop-" He hesitated.
"Stop what? Stop making it sound like it's a bad thing?" She trembled. Cold or anger.
"I'm not-"
"Look at them!" She walked over to where one of them lay, body broken over the pavement.
He looked only at her.
"I don't-"
"Look at them."
His eyes turned reluctantly to the body then flicked away again. He folded his arms. "I did what had to be done." And then his tone softened. "To protect you. To protect things that are important to me." He moved forward now, moved so close that their shadows kissed. A single hand came up to the side of her face. "To protect the people I love."
But she was silent. She looked up into the man's face, into his dark, dark, darker-than-dark eyes. And she looked scared.
"You can't even see what you've done."
"Please-"
"Get away from me." She backed away from him a second time, but this was more hurried, more instinctual.
He took a step forward but she whipped out her blaster again, which stopped him in his tracks. He had taken out an entire group of armed men yet couldn't seem to find the actions to stop her- nor the words.
"Get away from me." She repeated, her voice rising with fear. "Never come near me again." She seemed to be on the point of hysteria, her hand shook violently and the blaster rattled. "You're a monster! I can't believe I trusted you! I can't believe I loved you!"
"Ka-"
"Who ARE you?"
And then, with a whip of her cloak, she turned and ran. Ran away away away, her feet slipping on the street pavement. Splash, splash, splash.
The man stayed, shocked into stillness, one hand still reaching out.
The rain fell from the sky in ropes, curling on the ground in inky pools. It chattered on the abandoned Courascant street, interrupting the silence and the image of the half moon floating in a thousand puddles.
In a nicer neighborhood, it might have smelled like wet earth and growing plants, but in the slums the metallic scent of gasoline penetrated the air. The neon lights from the hole-in-the-wall bar across the street burned through the curtain of rain, its music not heard more than felt, throbbing through the sidewalk.
Still the man stayed. His heart beat out the question:
Who. Are. You.
Who. Are. You.
Who. Are. You.
fin.