He strode confidently down the corridor, his polished black boots clicking against the pavement with each step. The crisp gray uniform he wore accentuated his lean frame. His dark hair was neatly groomed and sharp eyes sought out any movement around him. Sentients cowered as he passed, doing anything to stay out of his line of sight. His appearance was not particularly menacing, but his presence was. He was the top of his class at the Sith Academy and everybody knew it.
Passing through the exit at the end of the corridor, he left the inner walls of Dreshdae and emerged into the dry Korriban air. The sun was high in the sky, beating mercilessly upon the planet. Brown was the only color visible–the unrelenting heat destroyed any form of life that managed to find purchase among the rocks. He took a deep breath, tasting the scent of death carried on the wind.
His long stride quickly brought him to the front doors of the Academy, his home for the last four years. He ignored the bodies of the dead hopefuls to the side, just as he ignored the living guard–neither were worth his attention. The doors opened and a blast of cool air greeted him. Deep within the halls, screams of the dying echoed, often followed with maniacal laughter. He couldn't help but smile–he was home.
He had first come to the Academy not long after his planet and childhood had exploded in a flash of fire. Even before the death of his world he had been filled with anger, often directed at his absent father. His mother had always managed to calm him and diffuse the situation. Once his mother had perished though, there was no incentive to play nice. He had found a future and a purpose with the Sith–a productive outlet for his anger. They had also given him a means for revenge on the one that had hurt him the most.
From the first moment of his initiation he had worked to become the best, to rise through the ranks and distinguish himself. With each test he aced and every Force power he mastered, he gained more prestige. Once restrained anger was strategically focused into each task, giving him strength for his trials. He was admired by his colleagues and feared by his enemies. His goal of becoming the greatest Sith to pass through the Academy was well within his reach.
His lightsaber tapped rhythmically against his thigh as he walked up one of the ramps. He nodded respectfully at the Masters he passed. He could feel the eyes of the younger initiates, but he ignored them like all those beneath him. He felt their fear of his abilities and power and he let the emotions strengthen him.
He entered the training room and greeted the only other occupant. "Mekel. I saw the bodies outside the Academy–been picking on the poor hopefuls again?"
Mekel grinned. "They're just so damn eager. Besides, unbridled stupidity like that deserves to die. It still amazes me that they think they could actually make it into the Academy that way. I have to admit they can only entertain me for so long before I get tired of their weakness. And what did you do this morning Dustil?"
Dustil shrugged, logging into the computer so he could open one of the cages and practice his Force powers. "Went to the cantina. It's filled with rumors of this new recruit–some fallen Jedi with slaves."
Mekel snorted. "Yeah, I saw them yesterday. Fracking Jedi–with the Order or not, they still think they can go wherever they want."
The cage to the left opened and the starved man held within stumbled out. He took two steps to the exit before Dustil raised his hand and casually sent bolts of Force lightning into him. The man screamed and fell to his knees. He convulsed in pain, his fists clenching the ragged tunic he wore. His screams reverberated in the room and Dustil had to raise his voice to be heard. "It doesn't matter, they won't make it through. Fallen Jedi are notoriously ignorant of what it really means to be a Sith–they seem to think that to disobey their precious council means they have fallen. They seem to forget that an affinity to inflict pain and gain power is needed to truly achieve the rank of Sith. Still, you don't see many Jedi with slaves, maybe this one has a shot. After all, owning slaves is certain a step in the need for power."
The man screamed louder and Mekel rolled his eyes. "Try a different power for once why don't you? Force lightning may be flashy, but it's not nearly as entertaining as Horror." Dustil shrugged and the lightning stopped. He waved his hand and the man grasped his head, his fingers tangling in his sparse hair. He cried out, his eyes wide with fear. Mekel nodded. "See? Far more entertaining. You might be right about the slaves though–one of them had to be a pleasure slave by the look of him. If that isn't a sign of needing power, I don't know what is."
Dustil changed tactics again, starting to drain the life from the rapidly weakening man. "Guess the rumors aren't true then. . .the Jedi must have working parts if this one bothers to keep a pleasure slaves to attend her. If their moaning keeps me up though, there's going to be a serious problem."
Mekel laughed. "Right, like you could hear anything over the sounds of Lashowe fracking Uthar." They both took a moment to shudder at the disgusting image.
Dustil shrugged, willing the image away. "Whatever. She could have enslaves the Mandalorians for all I care, it doesn't make someone a good Sith. Until she proves herself a threat or mildly capable, I'm not going to think about her."
He abruptly withdrew his hand and stopped using his Force powers. The man collapsed to the ground, curling in on himself and softly sobbing. Even though the session had been short, it was still damaging and intense. His clothes and hair were singed and his voice cracked on each sob. The man began to cough and blood flew from his mouth to land on his torturer's shoes.
"Hey!" Dustil kicked the man away from him, glaring. "These boots were just cleaned."
Mekel rolled his eyes. "Please, you were outside remember? Nothing stays clean in that wind, no matter how short the time you're in it. You're a dustball."
In a flash, Dustil had turned and shoved his friend up against the wall. His forearm pressed painfully at Mekel's throat and his eyes glittering dangerously. "Never call me that. Do you understand me?"
Eyes wide, Mekel nodded. Slowly, Dustil backed away from his friend and returned his attention back to the man. He sneered at him, his contempt for the sniveling man obvious.
Mekel straightened and smoothed his uniform. He had known Dustil for a long time and only one thing could bring his full, unrestrained fury upon someone: his father. And as any person knew–Carth Onasi was off limits. For whatever reason, the word 'dustball' had sent him off and Mekel would be very careful to make sure he deleted it from his vocabulary.
Dustil unclipped his lightsaber and knelt next to the man. "Tell me. . .have you ever broken a promise? Maybe abandoned a friend, a family member? Left them when they needed you most?" The man, still recovering, was too scared to answer. He stared fearfully at Dustil, tears gathering in his eyes.
Sighing, Dustil placed the hilt of his lightsaber underneath the man's chin. "You did, didn't you? You failed someone. Well, let me tell you something. . .there's nothing I hate more than someone that breaks promises." He thumbed the activation pad.
Mekel turned away, focusing on the opposite wall. He grimaced at the sound of a dead body hitting the floor. After a moment, he turned when his friend stood back up. "Worthless," Dustil muttered. "One of these days I'll test my powers on someone actually worth the attention. Look, I have some research to do. Maybe I'll go check out this new recruit, see if she is even worth watching out for. I'll see you later Mek." Completely unaffected by his actions, Dustil smiled at his friend. It wasn't hard to see why Dustil Onasi was feared. He nonchalantly turned and left the training room, sparks of lightning snapping around his fingertips.
And here is my submission for the KFM challenge "Villains." Someone was surprised I ended up picking Dustil to write about, and frankly, so was I! I had planned on writing about Saul, but then Dustil flew into my head and there was nothing doing. The result, as you can see, is a much more angsty/Dark Side Dustil that you would not want to meet in a dark alley... at least I wouldn't. Still, I hope you enjoyed it. Leave me a review and let me know what you think, I love hearing from you! Thanks! - Alexandra