Planet Ojos, Evening.
Darth Kitsun strode into the spherical white chamber, clad in her usual attire of a long, black dress that loosely clung to her lithe figure. Her face as usual, was obscured by a mask, its upper half skull like and set with a small jewel in the forehead, the lower half like a veil. She clutched her glossy black cane , the top part sphere light and concealing a light saber emitter.
"Mute," she called out simply, her voice heavily disguised by a synthesizer as she addressed her apprentice.
The man at the center was tall with beige skin that had paled slightly in recent weeks due to lack of sun. His dark hair had been a recently given a buzz cut. His strong, square jaw worked as he stirred from his meditation. His dark, bloodstained wool blindfold was, as usual, wrapped around his head. A black scorched hole was set in it between his eyes.
To this day, Kitsun wondered why her permanently silent student hung onto that old thing. It had been from an attempt to execute him. Her only theory so far was that he needed it to remind himself of how close he had come to meeting his maker.
That or it fulfilled the function of a security blanket. Kitsun certainly wasn't going to ask. She respected his privacy.
The man-known to friends and enemies as "The Mute" stood up. He bowed respectfully, his own cane gripped tightly in his hand, seemingly made of wood, with a metal-t-shaped handle that split down the middle when needed to emit the violet blade the hidden emitter would produce. the bottom was covered with a small brass tip. He hadn't made it himself, but it had grown on him ever since Kitsun supplied him with it.
"Something special is happening today: We are going to a dinner party. The Sith Overlord himself will be there, as will a substantial portion of the military cabinet. Foxe will help you become presentable. You'll also have to forsake your usual weapon in favor of a more...ceremonial type," Kitsun explained, gesturing for the blind man to follow her.
The Mute followed, clad in his usual choice of clothing: a simple pair of black slacks and boots and a dark, maroon colored t-shirt.
"I think Overlord Vizkous is using the party as a pretext for something. He doesn't usually do something like this unless he wants something from one of us," Kitsun continued. "I don't need to remind you about how your conduct in public affects me also."
The Mute bowed. He knew the drill. Still, he was irked about having to leave his weapon behind: Despite it's obvious age and the fact that it had clearly gotten a great amount of use, the blind man had never used a finer one. It was irreplaceable.
"Good," Kitsun said approvingly. "I expect you ready in two hours. And though it is a dinner party I must warn you not to let your guard down. Everybody there is an enemy to one another."
Kitsun departed the training chamber. The Mute following dutifully behind.
"These will do you perfectly," Foxe spoke happily as she stared at her handiwork getting the Mute ready. Foxe was dressed in her usual sheer beige dancer's slacks and simple strapless top, her caramel skin flawless in the light of the Mute's private quarters. She ran a hand through her floppy, chocolate brown hair that stopped at the ears, her heart shaped face and lips stretching a broad smile as her bewitching dull green eyes admired her success.
The Mute was a simple man by nature, and not prone to displays of vanity, having spent most of his life as a nomad. He was easy to dress, and Foxe had chosen a simple black robe set with with grey trims, a dantooine style set of robes to be precise, with a short, tight fitting upper robe, his wool blindfold having been replaced with a grey sash that now covered his eyes. A man on the street might have mistaken him for a Miralukan.
The Mute nodded. As far as he could remember, he had never been to a dinner party. His life had never been one of luxury. It was an entirely new experience.
The man remembered his mentor's admonishment to be alert for danger. Somehow, he didn't even need the Force to know that both his and Kitsun's continual headache, Darth Ino, would be there tonight.
He started to grin as he remembered the last prank Kitsun had played on the Sith Lord.
Foxe noted the smile. "What's up?" she asked.
The Mute shrugged, having no desire to spend the next twenty minutes playing charades for Foxe to work out what he was thinking. He was smiling. It was enough.
Foxe watched as the silent would-be Sith sat on his queen sized bed. It was days like this that he seriously reconsidered running away. The bed alone was worth the stay, after a lifetime of sleeping on secondhand or in the street.
But then he remembered. Staying meant he would eventually have to kill his mentor, in accordance with Sith tradition.
The Mute mentally snorted in disgust. The whole concept was barbaric. His mentor might not feel the same way, but that wasn't going to stop him from calling it like he saw it.
He respected Kitsun too much to do something so heinous. Fleeing was his only option to keep both of them alive.
The Mute decided to refocus his attention on something decidedly more pleasant. He reached for the simple guitar Kitsun had allowed him so that he might not go stir crazy when he wasn't training.
He handed the black bodied instrument to Foxe. Her type of playing was always happier than his.
Foxe plopped on the black beanbag cushion and plucked away steadily as the Mute reclined, listening.
Foxe looked around the dull, maroon colored room. The Mute lived sparsely, and never had more than he could take with him. She had watched with fascination over the months as he had steadily put together a small duffle bag full of survival equipment cobbled together from whatever parts he could snatch or buy on the limited stipend he was afforded, with two changes of clothes, rations he had purchased from a military surplus store and a small blaster carbine and pistol, along with a small one handed back-up light saber and a hunting knife. It was typical soldier behavior. The weapons had been neatly fastened to the sides of the bag with straps he had added, with a larger, main strap to be slung around his shoulder when he needed to move.
"Panic supplies?" she finally asked.
The Mute nodded. It wasn't exactly a lie for him. He needed resources, limited as they were, for when he eventually left Kitsun. Until then he could pass it off as simply thinking ahead.
Foxe shrugged and continued to lazily strum the guitar. The Mute simply listened. This was their usual routine.
He sighed. He knew he shouldn't be getting attached to her. Foxe was ultimately Kitsun's servant, and obeyed unswervingly. And there was no telling the kind of danger he could put Foxe in if Kitsun discovered how he was starting to feel. Kitsun, as tough but fair as she was, was still a Sith at the end of the day, and though he respected her, he would have been a fool to forget how cunning she could be.
Still...part of him was toying with the idea of taking Foxe with him. He wasn't sure how to convince her-another way Kitsun stood out in comparison to her peers was a notable lack of cruelty to underlings. He'd never seen Foxe bearing signs of mistreatment, and by this point he would have been rather surprised by his master changing that policy.
But the problem with Foxe could wait. For now, he was content with both of their situations.
Vizkous Estate, Ojos. Evening.
"Hows your weapon?" Kitsun asked as the stretch speeder powered through the skies of the verdant city planet Ojos just as the sun had finally set. She was wearing a dark blue version of her usual attire.
The Mute examined his replacement. The hilt was small, silvery and built for one hand, with a brass colored defensive cup covering the t-shaped electrum cross guard. The emitter was a narrow, bottle necked profile.
He had selected the light foil right out of Kitsun's private arsenal, it having been a secondary weapon he had familiarized himself with under Kitsun's tutelage. After months of practice he had started to like light foil fighting almost as much as his primary method.
"Good. At least I've managed to knock some measure of culture into you," Kitsun noted. "Now remember, student, do as I do. Do not show any weakness. Those animals in there will smell it a kilometer away."
The Mute nodded, once again noting how his master seemed to make a distinction between herself and her "peers".
She need not have worried. He had learned a long time ago never to show any sort of weakness to people like that. Hell, it was probably the only reason he had successfully defeated many of them, with the infamous Dark Jedi known as the Hyena being one of the few exceptions.
The Mute refocused on the task at hand. The last thing he needed to be reminded of was his defeat at the hands of that sociopath.
The stretch speeder stopped and set down on the landing pad of the black mansion that rested on a hill far from the clutter of the city. The mansion roof was supported by white columns on the outside, while a dome on the top glowed gently with a ruddy red light. The path way leading to it was lined by a garden of black roses-The Sith Overlord was said to be an expert cultivator of that particular strain. The mansion bore a circular design scheme and a nearby Sith Priory-a simple hollowed out obelisk made of white brick with a bell at the top reached out above the Corellian Pine forest.
The Mute noticed other speeders in the distance by virtue of his Force sight. Kitsun signaled for him to follow up the path with her and he did so, keeping close by at all times. Darth Ino had sent assassins after them both several times in the past few months. Nobody really talented-Ino was simply probing for weakness, using saber fodder to learn from every attempt. Kitsun had retaliated by killing several of his allies with vehicle bombs. The Mute knew this because he was the one who had set the bombs up. He still chuckled occasionally whenever he remembered how Kitsun had rigged the last bomb to send out fireworks upon detonation. Nobody could say the Sith Lady didn't have a sense of humor.
The pair strode up to the front porce, where a Krath soldier in a purple set of armor stood at the ready, a simple helmet with tinted faceplate concealing his features.
"Go on in, Lady Kitsun. Vizkous is expecting you," the soldier said in a gruff tone.
Kitsun nodded and the pair walked into a lavish chamber packed with paintings and statues from every corner of the galaxy lining the walls. The Mute snorted at this. Typical wastefulness of the rich, as far as he was concerned. All those credits and nothing useful getting done.
"Gaudy, isn't it?" Kitsun said quietly to him as they walked across the marble tiles to join the other guests. "Vizkous always did like the expensive stuff. Don't get me wrong, I'm a sucker for a good painting but this is overkill. Make note of it. It will let you know just what kind of person you're dealing with. The materialistic are always those who are easiest to manipulate. Never forget that."
The Mute nodded. Kitsun always liked to throw in occasional little nuggets of wisdom like that.
The pair stopped when they spotted a man in polished black armor with a small feathered crest atop his angular, beak-like helmet, a simple tinted visor allowing vision. The lower half of the plate armor was lined with four large, wide strips of fabric that surrounded his legs and went down to his ankles, His light saber hilt was of a one-handed design with a textured steel grip, the emitter of the weapon a flat slot with a t-shape wire cross guard inset with orange diamonds on the ends. The Mute also made note of a device on the Sith's right fore-arm that he had never seen before, bearing the appearance of a miniature solar panel, polished to a mirror sheen. There were other Sith of course, all unique, but the armored one was definitely an eye catcher.
"Darth Victus!" Kitsun spoke as merrily as her synthesizer would allow. "Fancy running into you here. You usually find an excuse to be on the battle field. What could Vizkous have possibly tempted you with?"
"I'm...not really here for me, Lady Kitsun," Victus answered, his masculine voice somber in nature. "Vizkous seems to have it in his head that he's got an irresistible offer. Since the higher ups usually don't bother with me, I decided to show up and see what it was all about." Victus stared at the Mute. "Your student, I presume?"
"Yes. Student, this is Darth Victus. He's a marauder, sworn to destroy the Jedi Order at any cost."
"You look like you've seen a few battles. Have you tasted Jedi blood yet, boy?" Victus asked.
The Mute nodded. It had been many years ago in self defense, however.
"Good. Don't get cocky though. A Jedi Knight is always a genuinely dangerous opponent," Victus admonished. "No matter what certain 'cheerleaders' among the Sith might say, they always conveniently forget how the Sith have been beaten before. We do not have history on our side."
The Mute raised an eyebrow, unable to hold back his surprise that a Marauder could bring himself to admit such a fact.
"You think my position strange, do you?" Victus asked, leaning closer. "I used to be one of the Jedi Knights. Before they started to get...ugly. Make no mistake boy, unless something changes, and soon, Exar 'I'm too good to use a proper Sith Title' Kun is going to lose this war."
"And you wonder why the higher ups usually don't bother you," Kitsun joked. "By the way, has Ino showed up yet?"
"The weakling hasn't arrived yet, but I can hardly imagine that he will pass up the opportunity to get into his direct superior's good graces," Victus answered. "He's pathetically predictable that way."
"You have any idea why Vizkous arranged all of this?" Kitsun asked.
Victus straightened up. "None. But knowing Vizkous, I can guess that he's looking to benefit himself somehow. He never acts in the interests of the Sith as a whole."
"Too true. But then again, what Sith truly does?" Kitsun asked.
Victus chuckled-and the Mute's keen ears for the first time clearly caught the faintest wheezing in Victus' breathing. The Marauder was sick.
The Mute began to notice other signs of ill health. The armored man swooned occasionally and the blind man was quick to note how Victus occasionally shook his head, as though he were dizzy.
It had to be serious, or else Victus would have found some way to rid him of the illness. If the arcane secrets of the Dark Side were no help, then the blind student reckoned that the Marauder was a dead man walking. It also explained why the man had chosen to show up in full battle armor-if that couldn't hide signs of what was surely mortal peril, nothing could.
For an instant, the Mute felt a stab of pity for the ailing Sith and the fact that the society he was sworn to fight for didn't even allow him the dignity of being mortal. No one could show weakness, lest the parasites who took advantage of a code that, on the surface, didn't actually advocate evil, swoop in and rob someone of what they had worked for.
The Mute clamped down on that feeling. He didn't know Victus. The Sith Lord could be guilty of dozens of heinous crimes. Perhaps the illness was simply his karma.
He shifted uneasily in place as he drowned out the conversation between his master and the other Sith. He himself was guilty of many crimes-murder, theft, arson, assault, maiming, attacking a military base and killing most of it's defenders on two separate occasions, illegally boarding a Republic capital ship and killing the bridge crew, to defend a colony the ship had been sent to annex. Those Jedi Knights-the list went on. He was far from innocent.
The Mute wasn't proud of that.
It was about a half hour later that Overlord Vizkous himself arrived at the top of the chamber's grand staircase. A rather tall middle aged man with an unusual hairstyle that parted neatly at the top and curled tightly around his neck in white locks of hair, with a pointy, graying goatee, he wore a dark plain set of clothes with a red half-cape hanging from his left shoulder. His dark eyes scanned the crowd of military personnel and Sith, his creased face smiling as he spotted Darth Kitsun. "Ah , I'm pleased to have you here, Lady Kitsun," he spoke in a Corellian accent with a distinct aristocratic twist.
"Always an honor to be invited to these sorts of gatherings," Kitsun replied.
"And Lord Victus! I'm pleased you accepted my invitation," Vizkous added as he spotted the armored Sith.
Victus gave a slight bow in acknowledgment.
"Well, I'm sure that you all are eager to get underway, but we have a few festivities before dinner is served, refreshments are being distributed by my servants as we speak. For now, take in the sights and, if you feel in the mood-get drunk!" he finished exuberantly, waving at them all. Before he departed, he signaled for Kitsun and Victus to join him at the top of the stairs. Kitsun gestured for the Mute to follow. He was glad. He had never had the patience to socialize in this manner. The very nature of the place irritated him already. He doubted any of them had ever had to hunt for their food or build their own shelters, as he had. Well maybe the Sith here had, at least some of them. But their life was one of constant strife: They would have been fools not to learn any survival skills by now.
In that way, the blind man noted with no small unease, they were very similar to him.
The interior of Vizkous' study was lined with shelves of ancient texts and books, many of which looked a little moth eaten. The floor tiles were a swirling pattern of black and amber. A simple spherical light fixture glowed gently against a gray ceiling.
The Mute spotted a very unusual man in an all white suit reclining on a nearby leather sofa. He looked fairly young, with unruly black hair and violet eyes. The sleeves of his suit had cuffs with frills on them. His face bore the shape of an arrow pointing downward, and he had very soft, boyish features. Most unusual of all his lips were red. So red he could very well be wearing lipstick, it contrasted heavily with his pale skin.
The Mute had sized him up in an instant. A man of means-or as the Mute would put it, had he been able to speak, irritating.
"Really, Lady Kitsun, you should stop taking in such wild breeds," the young man noted of the Mute with a light carefree voice with a slightly (and irritating) melodic undertone, giving a twirl of a simple alabaster walking stick, set with a red orb for a handle, seemingly made of glass. The Mute, for his part, had to actively stop himself from growling at the man. The instant the blind man had laid Force Sight on the dapper individual, he could think of nothing so satisfying as punching that obviously rich, smug face in.
"Wild breeds can occasionally be more satisfying to teach than purebreds such as yourself, High Roller," Kitsun replied with no small amount of annoyance.
"Hmmm...I highly doubt it," the High Roller replied, hopping up from his position and giving the Mute a once over. The silent man held his peace, while at the same time gleefully imagining punching the High Roller's teeth out.
"My old instructor, you surprise me," the High Roller replied, clearly (and annoyingly) indignant. "I knew you were training some stray, but I didn't realize he was such a charity case. Tell me, stray, have you had any formal schooling?"
The Mute neither nodded nor shook his head. He wasn't about to give the man any ammo. Besides, he HADN'T had a formal education. Anything he learned over the years had been mostly self taught. And almost everything he had taught himself was geared to his own survival, and whatever he couldn't learn on his own he had picked up by watching others.
What still hurt the most was the fact that he couldn't read. His severe dyslexia, combined with being constantly on society's bottom rung had made his life even harder than it would have been. More frustrating was the fact that Kitsun had attempted to correct the problem, first with pills (Which had unexpectedly given him severe, intolerable migraines) and then with implants. (Which his body had rejected, even with anti-rejection medication.) The gift of knowledge-the one thing in his life that would have given him a sense of purpose, to hope that he could move up in life without having to constantly scrape by-remained frustratingly out of his reach. It was also one of the things that constantly made him reconsider fleeing Kitsun's service. He knew that if he left her, he might very well never get the problem fixed on his own.
The High Roller didn't know how sensitive the nerve he was getting on. The Mute wanted to wring his neck.
"My student's education is not your business, High Roller. Remember your upbringing," Kitsun admonished, threat entering her synthetic tone.
The young man nodded, perhaps at last sensing how close he was to being the victim of an assault. "Of course. I beg your forgiveness for my impertinence."
The Mute stopped himself from slapping the man. He had apologized to her, not him. How it was a Sith seemed to survive being rude to everyone was beyond him sometimes-and the young man had to be a Sith, for the Mute could practically smell the Dark Side on him. Sure, with the Sith, there was the Force, but he wondered how smug they would actually be if someone took the trouble to snipe a few from a kilometer out every so often. The Mute could certainly do it to the High Roller, if the guy tried to push him. His mind also began to process the fact that Kitsun had trained him.
Something was wrong here. She trained the High Roller but neither he nor Kitsun was dead? Didn't the apprentice kill the Master, when they were of no further use?
The Mute resolved to try and inquire about this to his mentor as soon as possible. Perhaps their own relationship need not end in blood.
If that was the case-the Mute certainly would have less of a reason to run then he did before.
"The High Roller came to me a few days ago with an interesting bit of Intel," Lord Vizkous began, going over to his desk and retrieving a data disk, which he slid into a hidden holoprojector built into the desk itself.
"My Lord, with all due respect, the High Roller is a banker and gambler: Traits which have ill suited him in the past. But he normally doesn't fit in the roll of spy," Kitsun critiqued. "Unless he's concocted the greatest pyramid scheme ever, I doubt anything he brings would be of much use."
At this, both Victus and the Mute let out a small chuckle. The High Roller blew some hair away from his face in annoyance.
"But this is different," the High Roller spoke up as the projector began flashing images of account info and ship fuel orders, along with personnel details.
"What are we looking at?" Victus asked.
"A highly placed Republic official-with a gambling problem and weakness for prostitutes started mouthing off secret information to one of my hired hands after he found himself in one of my casinos with a debt he unfortunately could not repay. In exchange for my forgiving the debt-and my silence to his wife-he agreed to let me know about a rather large shipment of electrum bullion that will be relatively close to sith territory in a few days. Ostensibly, its meant to be delivered to resistance groups on our side of the fence. He gave exact dates, times, and quantities," the High Roller explained.
"How large?" Kitsun asked.
"Over a hundred billion credits worth, carried by a special freighter disguised as a diplomatic envoy," Vizkous answered. "I want that shipment. But the thing is, I need reliable people to pull a job of this kind. What I propose is we work together and steal the shipment from under their noses. Afterwards, we divide it amongst ourselves."
"A weighty proposal, but why ask me?" Kitsun wondered.
"Because you've proven in the past you are both able and willing to get your hands dirty-" Vizkous began.
"I must protest!" a familiar, snide voice called out.
The Mute clenched his teeth, grip tightening on the foil Kitsun had given him.
Darth Ino, a tall, bald Nagai male with a slightly lanky appearance and ash-gray robes stormed into the quarters. His poisonous yellow eyes fixed a gaze of pure loathing on Kitsun and the Mute.
"Lord Vizkous, Lady Kitsun is the military governor of Ojos, this is true-but her position should prevent her from even participating in an operation of this sensitivity. I, on the other hand, am more able to assist you," Ino pleaded his case, bowing as he did so.
"Oh? How odd," Kitsun replied with a silky sarcasm. "Considering I hardly see you doing anything important. You must be truly effective for me not to notice."
"Watch your tongue, Kitsun," Ino snarled. "It will not help you here."
"Relax, Ino, I had no intention of leaving you out. As a matter of fact, I wouldn't mind if you went along, to secure my interests in this matter."
"Unfortunately, My Lord, I myself cannot assist you in this affair as directly as I would like. My duties searching for spies prevents it-"
"You mean rounding up school teachers and reporters and then having them shot," Victus snapped. "It must be absolutely draining. How DO you do it?"
"The same way I'll plunge a knife into you if you dare question me again," Ino snapped, fixing his eyes on the Mute. "And what is HE doing here? He's not even worth spitting on."
The Mute's light foil activated in an instant, a thin strand of red with a higher pitched hum than a normal saber.
Vizkous chuckled. "Ah, so this is your student, Lady Kitsun? I like his aggressiveness. He reminds me a great deal of your previous student...Anton, wasn't it?"
"Correct," the Sith Lady answered quietly. "Student, put down your weapon. Violence will serve no purpose here."
The blind man shut off the light foil-but only for his mentor's sake. But he pointed at Ino and made a slicing motion across his own throat. Someday, the Mute vowed, he would deliver on his threat.
"I have to say, you wild breeds certainly show some spirit, now and then," the High Roller remarked, chuckling.
If Ino was afraid, he did not show it, instead, he turned back to Lord Vizkous. "My apprentice is eager to prove himself, and I have full confidence in his abilities to get the job done. Is this acceptable to you?"
Vizkous was dismissive, waving him off with contempt. "Of course, of course send him in your place, Ino. But do not fail me. Your student's failure will be your failure. Am I clear?"
The Mute smiled as he heard Ino's breath quicken for an instant before regaining his composure.
"Crystal, Lord Vizkous," Ino answered, bowing again before turning to leave.
Just before he exited, Kitsun called out, "And once again, the Snake bites more than it can poison."
Ino simply grumbled as he walked out.
"The man says he can help, yet flees when given the chance. He's lucky I need him, or else I would have dropped him in a vat of piranhas years ago," Vizkous remarked when he was sure Ino was out of earshot.
"Too good for him. Personally, I would have stuck him in a wind tunnel full of broken glass," Victus added.
"Odd you should mention that. That's exactly how I got rid of a spy once," Vizkous replied, smiling.
"Acid. Pour it on his face and watch it melt," the High Roller suggested.
"And what about you, student of Kitsun? How would you meet out his end?" Vizkous asked.
The Mute thought a moment and then simply made a gun-shape with his right hand, making a popping sound with his mouth as he jerked his arm back to simulate recoil.
"Hmmm...simple execution? Practical, and there's always something to be said for the classics," Vizkous remarked. "He chose the simplest answer that gave the same result. Hardly any expenditure needed. You've trained him well, Kitsun."
"Always nice to know I've done my job," Kitsun replied. "When is the robbery to take place?"
"Two days from now. Plenty of time to prepare," Vizkous answered. "But we can worry about that later. Right now, I'm getting hungry. Shall we?"
Dinner was currently in the process of being awful, to say the least. Vizkous' choice of meal had clashed with the Mute's palette from the start. It could not have been otherwise-The Mute hunted and cooked his food, even when Kitsun had plenty available in her food storage. It was a habit Kitsun had chosen not to try and break him of: It meshed with the Sith doctrine of self reliance perfectly.
The Mute knew that kath hounds roamed the woods of Ojos. He could hunt one later on, after this fiasco was over. Kitsun had begun to grant him greater freedoms, allowing him to leave the castle so long as he returned whenever she commanded it, for whatever reason. Usually it was more instruction.
Anything was better than this over salted and over priced fillet Vizkous had served. The Mute ordinarily liked fish-in his youth it had been his primary source of sustenance in times of hardship.
His nose picked up the disgusting aromas wafting up from it, and he suppressed a gag reflex. The crispy outer layer and unwanted spices-fish tested best raw, in his experience. And what in the world was the asperegus for? What savage thought any of this was a good idea?
He took a bite and muscled it down. His master sat across from him in the grand dining table, a rectangle made of solid gold with posts in the shape of lion paws on all four sides extending almost the entire length of a considerably large grand dining hall filled with simple drapes in a solid red color all around the cold stone walls. It was primarily lit with torches. Musicians played in a far corner with violins.
The Officers and Sith were at separate tables, making the Mute even more uncomfortable. He was, sharing a table with a bunch of people who all potentially wanted him dead for some arbitrary reason or another. Even the one who seemed somewhat tolerable to be around, Victus, had that aura of menace to him. It was probably the armor. And the fact that the High Roller was sitting next to him only furthered his discomfort.
Ino sat right next to Vizkous at the far end, enjoying his status as the Overlords representative. His smug gaze raked over every other Sith at the table. The Mute would have put his eyes out without hesitation had Kitsun demanded it. It frustrated him that she did not. Why did she keep such an obvious threat and rival alive? He had seen up close how cunning his mentor was: She probably could have tricked Ino into killing himself, if she were so inclined.
Victus, who was sitting on Kitsun's right, chose to speak up, "You know, boy, the more I look at you, the more your face seems familiar to me. You claim to have seen battle. Did you ever see battle at Krucyfyx?" he asked, leaning forward and clasping his hands together.
The Mute lied and shook his head. It was never a good idea to admit being in a particular battle. There was no telling how the other person would react if they had been on the opposite side. They might try and settle a score.
"Ah. My mistake. I ask because there were reports of someone matching your description boarding a Republic capital ship and killing the entire bridge crew in a surprise attack. I was one of the Jedi assigned to that particular ship. Barely managed to evacuate with the rest of the crew after Life Support suffered a catastrophic malfunction," Victus sighed.
The Mute again shook his head.
The High Roller sighed, "And just when I thought you were going to start being interesting, Stray."
Vizkous squinted in curiosity. "What is this Krucyfyx?"
"It was a colony, of independent Force Users. They were secularists, to be specific. Republic got nervous about having so many Force Users that didn't answer to them, so they sent a Capital ship, squad of Jedi and a representative of the government telling them they were annexed. They said no and ended up being totally destroyed in the battle that followed," the High Roller supplied, taking a sip of wine.
Ino scoffed at all this. "If they were too weak to embrace the Dark Side and defend what was theirs, then they deserved to be destroyed. Good riddance!" He snapped with a contemptuous roll of his eyes.
The reminder of the tragedy-that in spite of everything he had done to try and save the people who had taken him in and treated as an equal-proved too much for the Mute. He started to rise so he could force his light foil down Ino's throat, only for Kitsun to make him stay seated with a discreet wave of her hand.
He regained his senses and continued eating the disgusting meal.
Interestingly, he noticed the High Roller clenching his eating utinsils as he stared at Ino with undisguised hatred. Victus too seemed to have gone stiff with barely contained rage.
He was also shocked to find that a sliver of emotion had escaped his mentor's presence. It was an intense, lethal anger directed at Ino and he could tell with his Force sight, that if Kitsun, who usually controlled herself so well, had let something that powerful escape her, then it must be taking all of her self control not to destroy Ino on the spot.
What was Krucyfyx to these people?
The Mute suddenly found himself even more glad that he had lied about not fighting in it. No telling what they were angry about.
Ojos, Kitsun's Castle.
"You did well today, barring a few times you had to be reminded not give into emotion," Kitsun complimented as Vizkous' automated stretch speeder left them on the castle landing pad. It was starry out. The Mute liked the night sky.
As they headed back inside, Kitsun turned to her student again.
"I'm curious about one thing," she began, "Why did you lie about Krucyfyx?"
The ever-silent man stared.
"Did you actually do what Victus seems to think you did?" Kitsun pressed.
The Mute vigorously shook his head.
Kitsun paused, gazing at him for a few seconds.
"Hmm...drat. Thought I'd learned something interesting about you," Kitsun remarked off-handedly as they stepped inside to one of the castle corridors. The Mute followed Kitsun. He generally disliked leaving her presence until she dismissed him. Besides, barring the fact she was a ruthless, cunning Sith, he rather enjoyed listening to her.
"I was at Krucyfyx," she admitted.
The Mute didn't react to this. Admitting to being in that battle might open a can of uncomfortable memories for the both of them. Still he listened, trying to understand where she fit in. He had killed many that day, and was dreading the possibility one of them might have been someone she had known and cared about. He had enough blood on his hands as it was.
"Perhaps you already guessed this, but I used to be a Jedi Knight," Kitsun continued as they passed through the dark, lonely wooden corridors of her stronghold. They stopped at her personal quarters and she invited him to follow. He went in, having never seen where she slept. It was probably the first evidence he had ever come across that she had a life outside of those dark clothes and that veil mask.
"I was among the rank and file once. I followed orders faithfully and perniciously. I even had a student," she continued, passing over the sparse items in her quarters, which had an all blue color scheme on all surfaces. The Mute glanced at a glass, man sized box containing a set of shredded white robes, with a belt composed of what seemed to be tails covered in red fur.
"At Krucyfyx, I was given an order I could not follow: Forced annexation of a free society. It reeked of fascism to me," she spoke, running her hand over the glass case. She turned back to her student.
"Perhaps you wonder why I tell you this? Consider it part of a lesson."
The Mute, in a gesture of respect, sat cross legged on the floor and gestured with his hand for her to go on.
"You're too kind to me sometimes," Kitsun spoke reproachfully, yet giving him a slight nod in turn. "Anyway, complicating matters was the fact that the leader of the colony was someone I admired. A smart person. Wore a mask designed to mimic the countenance of a white wolf."
The Man's breath caught in his throat. He had fought alongside this woman Kitsun was mentioning. She was supposedly a former member of the secularist Jal-Shey faction. He'd never known what had happened to her after they had parted ways.
"I defected. I tried to evacuate who I could. But the Jedi were everywhere, and as for my own student-I had trained him too well. He was too indoctrinated. He defeated her utterly. He took her prisoner. I tried to reason with him but he wouldn't have it. I was forced to shove my blade through his heart and vaporize it. Then I went on the run. When I next found the leader of this fallen colony-the Jedi had done far worse than kill her."
The Mute saw another sliver of hatred escape his Master's aura as she turned around to face the glass again.
"For a long time, I wondered if there was a way I could have gotten through to my student-but I eventually realized the truth. The blame lay entirely with me. I had taught him to be a Jedi, but I had failed to teach him that there was morality outside of the code. I forgot to teach that the Jedi way was not always the right way. But how could I have taught him any different? The Jedi teach an absolutist system, and so do the Sith-but I stay with them because here I am left to my own devices. Here I am allowed to teach what I feel are the actual benefits of the code of the Sith. Among them, as long as you are still alive and you have triumphed over your obstacles, then your way can be considered correct-until someone else comes along. And that is the lesson I wish to impart to you: I am only as right as circumstance allows me to be. If the day ever comes that you feel you know better, the burden will be on you to prove your belief. I may not necessarily agree with you, but I certainly won't try to shackle you to my way of thinking. That's the mistake these other Sith make, they feel they have to turn their student into a burnt out carbon copy of themselves. It's the mistake Ino regularly makes, but only because it's the one his master made with him, and it's the reason I suffer him to continue breathing: Because his master was incompetent and needlessly cruel, Ino turned out to be incompetent and needlessly cruel, and so will any apprentice he trains unless they are smart enough to think for themselves. Thus he is no threat to me, because I can predict his actions based on how he was trained, and thus his servants."
The Mute nodded. He understood, or at least he thought he did.
Kitsun turned around to face him again. "At the end of the day, you must be loyal to yourself, and your morality. And that is another reason I keep Ino alive: So that you may revile his shortcomings as I do, and avoid his fate. The man is almost a walking stereotype if you think about it. But the trouble is is that there are far too many of him and far too few of us. It'll always be that way. But if I can train you better than I did my first student-a person that caused me immeasurable agony to end-then I will consider my time as a Sith well spent."
The blind man bowed his head.
"You are dismissed. Be up early tomorrow, as we have a robbery to plan."
The Mute rose from the floor and left the quarters.
The Mute woke from dreamless slumber just as dawn was starting to break. He dressed in his typical choice of dark plain clothing and put on his old wool blindfold, still stained with his own blood, that, despite repeated scrubbing and washing attempts, had never come out. He grabbed his cane saber and marched out to the open court overlooking the city near the top of the castle.
Curiously, as he stepped out onto the cobblestone courtyard, he found Foxe fiddling around in the bushes next to the furniture set up. As usual she was wearing a set of dancer's slacks and top, with thin black shoes for maneuvering.
She perked up when he cleared his throat.
"Oh, Mute! Kitsun said you'd be up around this time!" she chirped, waving.
The Mute gestured at the bushes.
"Oh, this! Kitsun has me doing electronic counter-measures, searching for the bugs Darth Ino's unmanned spy drones occasionally drop around our perimeter," she explained, holding up a silvery, stick-like sensor. "After all, we don't want Darth Ino taking credit for Kitsun's plan, now do we?"
The silent man shook his head.
Foxe chuckled. "It's busy work, really. Listen I have to search the outer walls of this place. Kitsun will be along in a few minutes. Make yourself comfortable," she finished heading back inside.
The Mute sat down on the nearby wooden chair and square glass table that had been set out. He started to whistle but thought the better of it. It was too early, and the silence of the morning too golden.
"Mmmm..." moaned a familiar voice behind him.
The Mute was out of his seat in an instant, tactically back flipping away from the source of the voice, his saber already active as he landed.
She stood there, wearing a black, opaque mesh suit with thigh high leather boots. Her figure was an hourglass. She was Twi-lek, with a pale, albino tone to her skin. Her icy blue eyes raked the Mute over as she smiled, her cold beauty marred by a diagonal scar across her face, that started at the top right of her forehead and terminated at the bottom of her left, cone-like ear-lobe. She played with her lekku idly as she chuckled.
Whips. He hadn't seen her in a while. The last time they had met, it had been when he had started killing some of Ino's allies and supporters. She had hindered him every chance she got, forcing him to adapt to whatever chaos she sowed in her wake as she had pursued him relentlessly. Later, Kitsun had told him that she had sent Whips to deliberately impede him, in an attempt to make him think on his feet. He'd been rather cross with Kitsun afterward, until she rewarded him for passing her challenge by giving him a guitar.
He didn't know how Whips had gotten up here. For that part, he wasn't sure why Kitsun continued to require her services. Whips was a psychopath. Her motives for acting the way she did were an enigma to him, as he had never heard her utter an actual word. But then again she spoke with action, not words, and her actions were those of someone who loved destruction and misery.
He may not have known why Whips was the way she was, but he knew exactly what she was.
Whips licked her lips, walking closer to him. He growled, angling his saber threateningly.
She chuckled again, and with one swift move, knocked the weapon out of his hand with a spin kick.
He quickly tried to leg sweep her but she flipped over him driving her elbow into his left shoulder. He yelled, losing his balance in his awkward positioning and hit the ground.
Whips cackled as he got up, rubbing his shoulder. She mimicked the motion, grinning maliciously.
The Mute threw out a back fist with his right hand, knocking her senseless. But she was smiling as she hit the ground, her nose bleeding.
He summoned his cane to him as she leapt back up, going for her own weapon-
"Enough," Kitsun called out simply.
Her hand instantly left her weapon, a light-whip disguised as a stun-rod on the black sash that served as her belt. She backed away from him, but she winked at him and grinned as she did so. The Mute grunted and shut his saber off.
As Kitsun passed by the mad woman, she said simply, "No more rough housing."
Darth Victus still in his plate armor, and the High Roller, still in his dapper white suit, followed her outside. Whips waited by the glass turbo-door that led into the castle proper. She seemed disinterested by the proceedings, still totally focused on the Mute, who kept his distance, staying close to the dura-steel railing that separated the courtyard from the sky.
Darth Kitsun pulled out a small holo recorder and activated it, showing the schematics of the ship that was transporting it. It was of corellian make, shaped like a flat disk, with a pincer like cockpit and gunner section in the front of the craft, with a set of ion engines in the back.
"So, my former instructor, we aren't actually going to let Vizkous have a share of the spoils are we?" the High Roller asked, twirling his cane, legs crossed as he sat in the chair across from Kitsun.
"Of course not. This is the moment we've been waiting for, gentlemen. It is a great chance to further our cause. The bullion will provide an excellent source of funding," Kitsun spoke quietly. "Whatever lackey Ino sends with us will be our scapegoat."
"We'll have to strike just before they can arrange to have it transported to the local bank," Victus added, staring at the Mute, who was looking out on the city below, but listening to everything. "We taking him with us?"
"Yes. I would trust him with my life," Kitsun replied, also staring at him.
"A bold statement to make for a Sith about her student," the High Roller remarked sarcastically. "He'd better be as good as you say."
"He is," Kitsun assured. "He will not betray us. And then, High Roller, you'll see what a 'Wild Breed' is capable of."
"But do we HAVE to bring that rabid dog of yours with us?" Victus asked, gesturing to Whips. "You'd be better off putting her out of her misery."
Kitsun, in an uncharacteristic display, slammed her fist to the table. "Show some respect, Victus," she snapped.
He held up his hands in mock surrender. "Fine. But we both know it wouldn't really be murder. It would be euthanasia."
"Really, Kitsun, you'd be doing her a favor," the High Roller added. "You're far too compassionate for the Sith."
"This is not open to discussion," Kitsun replied. "My student will act as local surveillance. Victus will be the muscle of the operation, provided his health still allows him this capacity."
"I'm not in the ground yet, Kitsun," Victus said, obviously insulted.
"High Roller, you're going to provide us transport and the necessary identifications," Kitsun went on, ignoring his displeasure. "No mistakes like last time."
"You always bring up the incident with the goat," he sighed, rolling his eyes.
"Because it always bears reminding. Especially when our credentials listed us all as Rodians," Kitsun snapped again.
"C'mon, Kitsun, even you thought that was a little funny when it happened," Victus reminded her.
"It was at first. Until the first two weeks in a foreign prison."
Whips laughed at this. Kitsun turned around in her seat to face her.
"No one asked you," she said simply, voice curiously devoid of malice at being mocked as she turned back to her fellow conspirators. "Whips is our diversion. She'll attack a municipal police station, set up the jamming equipment there. Then she'll rejoin all of us when the ship lands. We all attack it, take out the crew and the military escorts they'll have with them, and then fly the ship to a pre-determined point in orbit, where the transfer will be made. At this point, we'll betray Ino's assistant, slay him, and leave him in the stolen ship, after we set it for a course around the planet that will eventually cause it to crash, destroying all evidence that we stole the electrum for ourselves. With any luck, Vizkous will believe Ino's assistant betrayed us all and stole the bullion for himself, only to be killed in the process."
"But where do we move the bullion after?" Victus asked.
"You let me worry about that," Kitsun answered. "I have a few places to store our prize. Places neither Vizkous nor Ino would ever think to investigate. Our dream 'will' come true, rest assured."
One day later.
Alderaanian yacht Soliloquy.
The Yacht had been supplied by the High Roller. It was an adaption of the Alderaanian diplomatic vessels, A long silvery tube with ion engines stuck in the back and a hammer like bridge section in the front. It had no weapons, as it might have attracted attention from the local authorities. As it came into orbit, a small, atmospheric shuttle with a tri-foil design equipped with a prototype stealth system detached from the main ship bay and descended into the far side of the planet. It was a dusty, frontier colony, with a large military base taking up most of the city's eastern side. The city itself was far from cosmopolitan. It was ramshackle and disordered, like someone had taken a piece of the infamous Nar Shaddaa or Coruscant's underworks and put it on the surface. It reminded the Mute somewhat of Corellia Walled City, where he'd been interned once.
Ino's assistant had accompanied them on the shuttle trip. Kitsun had set him with the role of distraction, as she had with Whips, however, she had told him nothing further of the plan. He was a tall man, with dark skin that looked as though it was often in sunlight. He wore a set of dark red robes with the sleeves cut off, exposing bare arms. His hair was a simple parted look that didn't go past his ears, blue-black in color along with the stubble on his face. His yellow eyes were hard and set deep into his face, his face rounded at the chin but angular at the cheeks. The Mute stared at his choice of weapon, a small black hilt with a solid metal cross guard big enough to fit only one hand. A light-dagger. On his right hand was a tattoo of a hornet set against the back of the hand.
The man had introduced himself as simply "Stiletto." He stood out from the other students of Ino: One, he was still alive, and two: he did not seem to conform to Kitsun's expectations for a student of Ino.
All of them were strapped to the hull in crash webbing, with the High Roller at the controls. Kitsun was seated with the Mute and Whips to her right and left, with Victus seated next to Stiletto on the other side.
Kitsun gestured to Ino's student. "Are you sure you'll only need that one light dagger?" she asked.
"Trust me," he smirked, his rough sounding voice commanding attention. "In my hands, a light dagger is more than enough."
"Not to offend, but you do not seem like Ino's regular choice of apprentice," Victus noted.
"I'm just a simple, working class Dark Jedi taking his shot at the big time," Stiletto answered. "I used to make my living doing the average stuff. Industrial theft, low level assassinations, the occasional bombing."
"Ino must have seen some talent in you. Unnatural for him if you don't mind my saying so," Kitsun spoke.
Stiletto shook his head. "I don't mind. You're not the only one who knows what type of person Ino really is. He actually expects me to kill you on this mission. Did you know that?"
"I suspected," Kitsun replied calmly. "Still, it is a rather dangerous admission to make."
"I only say it because I know I can pull it off. And besides, you already knew Ino was going to try something like that any way in this instance. You and I both know how much he hates you," Stiletto answered, turning to the Mute and Whips. "All three of you. So why bother with pretense? And I already knew you were plotting to kill me by the way. You can't seriously expect me to believe that you'd pass up the chance to humiliate him."
"Why bother getting on the ship at all?" Kitsun inquired, intrigued by the man's frankness.
Stiletto smiled. "Because I know I can kill you first."
Kitsun paused at this. She rather liked his to-the-point nature.
"You seem like you've got a good head on your shoulders, Stiletto. It'd be a shame to remove that head. Ino's a moron. Why not sign up with me?"
Stiletto smiled again.
"Sorry," he replied. "It's isn't personal or anything. And you're right, Ino 'is' a moron. And that's precisely why I can take advantage of him. And when the time is right...well, I'm sure you know the rest. Besides, I pride myself on completing my assignments," he finished.
"I see," Kitsun replied, disappointed. It was not the first time she had witnessed potential wasted. "Well then, in that case, Stiletto, may the best Sith win." She offered her hand.
Stiletto took it, shaking it vigorously, "It will be an honor to dispose of you. All of you."
The Mute was already plotting to kill him when the shuttle landed.