Paths
"Jedi!" a voice from outside the courtyard shouted. Jedi? I thought. I glanced to where the yell had come from, and sure enough, blaster shots were zooming into the sky. Either a guard had an appalling shot, or a light sabre had deflected the lethal rounds.
It was only a matter of time, really, until those Jedi tuned their attention to Agisthos. The Sith were vanquished, for now, and I bet those Jedi guardians had itchy blaster fingers because of the lack of evil to fight. Hence the raid on Agisthos. Agisthos was a crime lord on Tattonine; some suspected he was an idiot for being so; I mean, what the hell are you supposed to do, ambush Jawas?
Nevertheless, there were still the tell tale whooshes and zips that indicated a Jedi light sabre. I prayed to whichever deity was fashionable at the time that the Jedi wasn't dark. The dark ones are pretentious pricks who apparently blow planets up for fun, and aren't too good on having pity on mercs like me.
A man flew over the tall walls, obviously pushed with the force. He landed, painfully, causing his lungs to give their best impression of an empty vacuum. He coughed and sputtered for air, before attempting to flee. He stumbled, wheezing, for the other gate. A green blaster shot hit him in the back, burning away his top, and leaving seared, already cauterized black flesh. He dropped to his knees, another shot hit him in the back of the skull, burning away the brain instead of splattering it, but leaving about a third of the head missing. His tongue licked the dusty Tattonine plains as it hit the floor.
"Coward!" Agisthos shouted. He was in front of me with his back turned, as I was originally leaning on the building wall. I slid out of his view behind a corner. He was holding a blaster pistol in his hands, waving at his dead soldier, whom he had betrayed. "Kill the Jedi! He's only one man!" He looked over his shoulder, and I retracted my head to stay hidden. He turned his attention back to his men, who didn't know who to cower in fear of, him, or the Jedi.
The metal barrier keeping the men in, or the Jedi out, glowed red heat, and soon a blue sabre poked through. I thanked the god of atheists for small mercies.
The Jedi did his...her mandatory grand entrance, kicking down the gate, lightsabre held out in a mock phallic pose. She had brown hair that seemed impractical in its length: down her shoulders. She had normal Jedi robes, and despite being in battle, showed no anger. Or even enjoyment for that matter; just that tranquility that pisses me off so.
"Kill her!" No one moved a muscle. "Traitorous filth!" Agisthos moved his blaster from the Jedi, recognizing his downfall. He aimed it at one of his men instead, who was in the middle of putting his vibroblade down.
Zap! The Blaster fired! The Jedi threw her sabre, seemingly at the victim, but it took the green bolt and sent it back to Agisthos who had his jaw open in astonishment, amazement, admiration, something else beginning with a, and then his jaw separated from his body, which was left to slump onto the floor, lifeless. The sabre whooshed itself back into her obviously skilful hands. Don't see that everyday, even in my line of work.
"It's always regrettable to take a human life." She said, as if they gave awards at the academy for spouting the most Jedi-propaganda. No one had a reply that wasn't sarcastic, facetious, or a downright insult. Including myself. We all shut up instead.
The late Agisthos' men had already kicked their weapons towards her, they knew the drill, and the once corrupt police force marched in, probably pissed they weren't getting anymore dirty money. Luckily, they didn't notice me. I looked up and to the side, and saw the eight foot stone wall blocking my escape. Both exits were blocked by the victors.
Thankfully enough though, you don't survive long as an assassin if you don't have a lot of cunning to fall back on. And I happen to be as cunning as the former rebels, now republic. I took the small blade from my belt, and proceeded to cut a pound of flesh from myself. It bled like hell, enough to make one woozy if left unattended, but it didn't hurt. I concentrated on the task at hand, calling on myself for my own power within. The old anger rose as it always does when I do that, and I sank into my consciousness, coming back only when the knife scraped into the bone within my arm. I tore my once fine clothes into rags to make myself a true figure of pathos, and then buried the knife under the sand, which incidentally, had gathered a red hue.
I broke my self restraint, and the anger washed away, which also brought the pain running back. It ran so fast, it knocked me to me knees, and the air out of my lungs, which took the form of a scream of agony. My arms, where I had put the most damage, hurt worse than that one time my throat was almost slit.
If I was more coherent, that is, in less agony, I would have found their jump of fright from my scream vastly amusing. But alas, agony took precedence.
"Check over there!" the lady Jedi ordered.
A grumbling and overweight twi'lik did as he was told, holding his blaster rifle with his finger on the trigger, an obvious and blatant violation of safety laws. I'm always amazed of how much better my sight and observational skills are when in rage or extreme pain. I should know, really, being there so often.
"I know you..." the twi'lik started.
That guy! He did know me: I had lobbed a bomb at this one guy's residence, big explosion and everything, can't remember why, but it had paid lots. The twi'lik had pursed me and removed my mask. He had let me go when he recognized Agisthos' man.
But all bets were off now. I snarled silently, offering death, all the while keeping my facial expression the same. He backed off, shocked, somehow sensing my slight displeasure of seeing his face. The pain rushed in a new, I wasn't aware it had left, but it forced a convincing scream of agony anyway.
"There's a hostage over here!" the guy shouted. And to the Jedi: "Can you heal?"
I heard the Jedi running over to my position, lightsabre holstered for now. "Of course I can heal!" she said with unJedi-ly indignation. Oh god... I was going to get healed by a Padawan, or worse: an apprentice. She was no master. Again, if not for pain, I would have chuckled at how judgmental people were concerning Jedi. They have to be gods to appease people now.
The Jedi had blonde roots in her hair despite the brown, and the sabre had a inscription in an alien language I couldn't read. And in further testament to the power of suffering and memory: she had two brown moles on a parallel either side of her right hand's middle knuckle, no ring. But I did see a bracelet on her wrist, obscured by the robe.
The pain was fading, but the anger didn't rise. She was healing me quite expertly, giving evidence on the contrary to her assumed Padawan status. "Do you have a name?" she asked whilst she worked, not lifting her eyes.
I couldn't tell her my name! That would be a stupid, stupid, stupid to the power of stupid, mistake! I pretended to groan in pain as I thought of a name for myself. Anakin! No, he used to evil... in honour of my late employer, I am now Tithonos. "Tithonos." I said through unnecessarily clenched teeth, as the pain had gone.
"Strange name." she said, smiling too brightly, too closely, into my face.
"Screw you," I said, full of mirth, "what's your name?" I flexed my strong muscles, making sure she hadn't accidentally glued my arm up wrong.
She was apparently confused; I can do that to people. Especially people who are too happy and too close. "I'm Faia." she said.
"Thank you, Faia, for the heal and rescue. If I had credits, or indeed a place to live, there would be a reward for you." I lied, whilst getting to my feet with all the grace of a pregnant bantha. I discarded a piece of material that was blowing into my face, in the process ripping a hole in the arm of my shirt. I frowned at it.
"Tithonos, you don't have a place to stay?"
I hadn't, not now she'd killed my gracious homicidal employer. I tried to think of a lie. "they burnt it down." Actually, I had burnt it down, and it wasn't mine. I sighed, realising the stupidity of more elaborate lie: no food or water, and a clean police force too, ruling out a mugging career. I'd be dead in days in this climate, and Czerka Corp aren't sympathetic to ragged dressed vagrants. I'd be salvaged by the Jawas and my skull made into an ornamental mug.
She smiled in that friendly manner that annoyed me, and said: "Come back with me to the Jedi enclave on Osckira; they'll welcome you there." At my silent protests: " just until you get back onto your feet."
I realised I had no choice. "Ok."