Two days— Rayshk counted in his head – two days since I got stuck in this shithole.
His eyes fluttered groggily, vision bleary as he struggled to look over his small, apportioned holding cell. The latest sedatives they dosed him with left him disoriented, left him with the inability to fully access his own mind, let alone the Force itself. But thankfully through the Force, the effects of the drugs started to negate.
He currently lived in a claustraophobic's worst nightmare. It was him, a steel table, and two chairs crammed in a narrow rectangular room. No room to pace, no room to actually breathe, this place could luckily squeeze three bodies in at a time. Did they put him in there to feel intimidated? See if they could weasel out whatever information he had? Make him feel as if the world was closing in? Whatever method they used, they were far from breaking him.
And what separated him from the rest of the world was the transparent energy field that buzzed endlessly, unless powered down. Pros and cons, he mused, for containment fields. The cons being that it barred him from escape, and the pros being that he could see who came to visit; his holding cell had the view of the turbolift.
Lucky for him, today he had visitors (his regulars since he first arrived).
The turbolift door revolved open and his two stoic visitors stepped off into the hallway, taking their sweet time approaching his cell. By the time they reached him, he already saw that they were wearing the exact clothes as yesterday. He chortled inwardly, and wondered if they only had one outfit they wore every single day.
His visitors eyed him wearily, as if uncertain whether to step inside. Rayshk lifted his bound wrists and waved zealously, a feeble smirk cracking across his face as he met their gaze. "Ah," his voice dragged, throat as moist as a desert, "my two favorite Jedi! Is this an actual visit? Or more questions?"
The Jedi – a master and a Togruta Padawan – didn't reply. Instead, they only exchanged glances before they finally powered down the energy field. The master, a tall gentleman with fair-hair and beard, took the empty chair in front of Rayshk. His cool blue eyes stared at the prisoner – compassion and humility clear in their depths – and studied him.
"Glad to see you're awake," the master said. "And you're in a talkative mood—"
"Do you wear the same fucking outfit every day?"
"Hey!" the Padawan snapped, perhaps out of turn. "We're asking the questions—"
"Ahsoka," the master sighed. He glanced over his shoulder at her, as if giving a silent warning, and returned his attention to Rayshk. "Since you're so curious about me, I'll humor you—" he leaned forward "—no, I don't wear the same robes every day. Now, I answered your question, so will you answer mine?"
"Answers," Rayshk scoffed, "is something you'll never get out of me. Unless…you're asking the right questions—" he ended abruptly, quirking an eyebrow and leering toward the Padawan who was identified as, "Ahsoka," and watched her scoff and look away in disgust.
In that time, the Jedi master had placed something on the table with a soft thud.
Rayshk's eyes immediately dropped down to his lightsaber hilt and he smiled. "You're asking what this is?" he chortled. "Well, that's a lightsaber, sir. You have one too—"
"Where did you get it?"
"Pfft. I didn't 'get it' anywhere."
"Are you saying you made it?"
"What do you think?"
Rayshk grinned devilishly as the Jedi master sat back in his chair to ponder this given information. Out of boldness – no doubt arrogance – he didn't mind declaring his prides, especially when it came to his personal weapon. He impressed his master with its design, and the specified focus crystals he chose for his own particular liking.
And then, suddenly, the subject shifted. "Why did you attack Senator Lanrax?"
Rayshk grinned widely. "For the credits, that's what," he replied. "Don't you know about the bounty that's on that man's head? And it specifically said dead, not alive."
"Who hired you? Do you know who placed the bounty?" the Jedi prompted.
"I don't work for no one - and I don't know the clever man who placed that high bounty."
"Master Kenobi," the Padawan piped up softly.
"Can't you see we're talking, youngling," Rayshk jeered.
She bit back a remark, trying to ignore him but irritation kept her slender figure rigid as she spoke to the Jedi master. The title "Master," was replaced in Rayshk's mind with "General," and then he understood why this man felt, in an odd way, familiar since they first met: Obi-wan Kenobi was well reputed especially as a Jedi Master, voice the calm in the storm he overheard someone say once.
"What is it, Ahsoka?" Obi-wan replied.
"It's time to go."
"Tsk, tsk, tsk—" Rayshk shook his head "—sad to see you leave so soon. Visiting hours can't be over now." He feigned sadness as he looked at Ahsoka. "I'm sure you feel the same way."
"Not…really…" Ahsoka trailed off as she and Obi-wan stepped outside the cell, but didn't bother to activate the energy field that kept him contained. Instead, two clone troopers strode in and seized him by the arms. "You're going to a new facility."
"You shitting me?" he hissed. He jerked in the guards' grasp but they kept an iron grip on him. That surprised him, and made him realize he was weaker than he originally thought. "You can't move me to a new facility!" But after a second, he quickly reconsidered his first outburst: "Okay, well, can my cell be fuckin' bigger than this—"
A clone trooper slapped him upside the head, "That's enough!"
"Good to see I'm not the only having a problem tolerating you," Ahsoka grumbled before she stepped aside with Obi-wan and allowed them passage.
Rayshk continued thrashing as they dragged him out into the hallway. "My cell better be fucking bigger!" he howled, mostly to the guards attached to his arms since they would be the one ones who listened. "Bigger cell, okay?"
"What you need is a fucking shower," a clone trooper growled as they entered the turbolift. "You smell Bantha shit."
They turned around to face the hallway, giving Rayshk a chance to look at the Jedi one final time before the door revolved shut. On impulse, he blurted a thought that crossed his mind: "Will they still visit?"
"It's a small prison, two levels: the ground level, and the lower level where they hold the prisoners. But that's a lot of ground to cover…and it looks like the only access to the holding cells is through the main turbolift…"
Avano finished explaining their options after she studied what she could off the blueprints she pulled up on the ship's computers. When she concluded, she didn't sound convinced Rayshk's rescue was going to be a walk in the park. Shadow, on the other hand, was well aware of the difficulty, but was eager to face the challenge.
"This facility is to isolate certain prisoners," Kareb noted, his eyes scrutinizing the computerized blueprint, "perhaps more Separatist-oriented to gain helpful information for their pointless war."
"And Rayshk is their test subject," Sheema grumbled bitterly.
"What kind of security do they have?" Shadow asked. "Any loop holes we can slip through to get to that turbolift?" He leaned closer to Avano, leaning over her shoulder for a better look at the screen.
His hip must have brushed against her shoulder because she paused in her search, giving him a sideways glance. Her eyes roamed up and down his figure, contimplating something that slipped an unfamiliar gleam in her gaze, before she mumbled, "As much as I love this - an' you're hot an' all - but do you...mind?" She pressed her palm softly against his chest and inched him back a little bit.
"Sorry," Shadow apologized curtly. He straightened his back, folding his hands behind his back, and waited for her to resume her search. He ignored the warmth fluttering around the skin of his chest.
Now comfortable, Avano resumed her search. How she managed to pull everything up was beyond him, but he didn't question her methods seeing that this was very useful to their mission. After all, she was a bounty hunter; she found a way to her targets somehow.
"A platoon's stationed there, roughly about eighty troopers, give or take," Avano answered quickly. "They've got security cameras, guards posted at all entry points…posted at certain doors in the facility. And there's probably more swarming in the lower level. I can't be sure because I don't have a direct video feed to see…"
"We'll have to figure some way around them, then," Kareb sighed. "Full frontal assault?" Sarcasm lined his suggestion as he feigned a face of innocence. And then, he tilted his head toward Avano. "Only answered on question," he grumbled. "Are there any loop holes?" he repeated.
Avano's fingers clacked on the keyboard and the computerized blueprints spun on the screen. Certain points on the plans grew big, then small again, zooming at possible points of entry they could use. She didn't answer the question for another two minutes, still searching.
"We need a plan," Sheema sighed. She glanced Shadow's ways, hoping he had the answer.
He raised his hand to ease her high hopes. "Give her a second; let's see where this loop hole is."
The computer beeped and their attention returned to the screen. The back of the facility on the blueprints was blown up to full view, revealing what looked like extremely narrow hallways intricately stretching in all directions.
"The ventilation system," Avano declared, "we can access one from the back." She leaned back in her chair with a bright smile, bathing in her success. "We could get to the security room there and take a look at the footage since one vent leads us straight there."
"Great!" Shadow grinned as he tipped his head over to their newfound ally. Guess she's not as incompetent as I first pinned her out as, he thought. Dwelling on this information, his mind devised a plan. It'd be fairly simple getting in, but getting out might be a little problematic. Before he knew it, all eyes in the cockpit were on him.
"What're you thinkin'?" Kareb folded his arms across his chest, eager to know what went on in his siblings head.
"We get into the security room through the vents," Shadow answered. "One of us will stay and commandeer the room, watch what's going on with the guards from the cameras. From there, that person will navigate us through the facility to Rayshk."
"Sounds like a plan!" Sheema cracked her knuckles eagerly. "When should we go?"
"Tomorrow night," Shadow replied. "By then, he'll settle and they won't suspect a thing when it's dark. We have the element of surprise. For now, we rest." And no one objected to the idea of sleep.
Sheema and Kareb both selfishly claimed the cockpit, leaving the uncomfortable bunks in the small cargo hold for Shadow and Avano. In silence, as tomorrow night's plan simmered in their minds, they dispersed to get ready for some shut eye.
Shadow didn't realize how exhausted they were, never realized how exhausted he was, until Sheema and Kareb made their comfortable floor cushion out of the spare blankets and went straight to sleep.
Before he went to sleep himself, however, he squeezed into the ship's small washroom.
He yanked off his shirt looked at the crusty red bandage coiled around his torso. Shadow rummaged through the cupboards and found fresh bandages. Out with the old, in with the new, he dressed his wound in silence. His thoughts went all over the place, considering all sorts of possibilities of the outcome between him and his master. Praise was the first, pride would come second, and trust would no doubt follow suit. And through this, his destiny would no doubt be set in stone; he'd make Orron proud!
A soft knock rattled the door and he opened it. Without warning, Avano squeezed into the space with him. The door shut behind her, trapping him inside. "Wha-what are you doing here?" Shadow hissed angrily as the arch of his back pressed up against the refresher's marble bowel.
"What do you think I'm doing?" she whispered with a coy smile.
His pulse thundered irregularly. Something ached in his muscles, in his bones, beneath his trousers. He vainly searched her inscrutable face, trying to gain an inkling of what she wanted, but his mind already knew what it was. He struggled for a response. "I...I...—"
A finger touched his lips and hushed him. "Don't overthink," she sighed.
Her hands slid up his bandaged chest, smoothing up his neck and tangling in his dark hair. His mind shut down, leaving his body unable to properly operate. As her lips grazed along his jaw line, his face twisted in a grimace. He was so muddled he ended up asking the same question as before. "Wh...what are you doing?" Warmth flared throughout his body, and he could already see warning lights flashing in his brain.
"Getting some good luck—" Her lips pressed against his and he froze, uncertainty rendering him numb and helpless. But the softness her kiss provided acted like a cushion, and he found himself sinking into a pit of uncharted emotions; he became lost.
Before he knew it, he was kissing her back. Experimentation, no less, but something within his body craved for it — craved for this. The longing for someone to touch him had been trapped beneath his hardened shell, only to be freed by this moment — when his fingers traced his skin, when her body roughly pressed against his; when his lips first touched his.
Regardless of what he thought of her, he found his arms surrounding her, pulling her closer as humanly as possible but it still wasn't enough. The kiss deepened, rougher and tasting like stale ale. Her hands slipped down, away from his neck, past his bandaged torso, and for the elastic loop of his pants. Her lips distracted him, her finger tips left tingly sensations crawling where she touched, but when she reached lower, Shadow fell apart and he jerked away.
"Stop!" the growl shattered the lustful ambiance in an instant as his hand darted down and caught her wrists before she touched him anymore. "I don't even know you….I don't need this right now." Shadow let her go and reached for the door, shoving it open. "Out!" he snapped.
"Real fucking prince charming," she grumbled as she reluctantly stepped out. She mumbled something inaudible as she walked away, leaving him struggling to catch his breath.
Shadow whirled around to the hanging mirror above the refresher, eyeing the deep red color in his cheeks and the sweat starting to bead over his forehead. That felt strange, and in a way frightened him, but he wasn't unaware of what just occurred; he knew Orron and Vittion hit it on and off every now and then, but never did he think it was something he'd feel himself.
He splashed cold water on his face, ridding the odd feelings and letting them slip back where they came from. The longing to be touch followed suit. He yanked his shirt back on and returned to the bunks where Avano was already settled in and – to his guess – fast asleep.
Shadow lay down on the bunk near hers, eyes fixed on the dark ceiling. Tomorrow's going to go well, he told himself. Regardless of what just happened. With that in mind, he closed his eyes and let himself sink into a mind infected with night terrors.
It was late in the evening when Shadow jolted awake, his sides heaving and his heart racing abnormally in his chest. He stared up in a daze, confused for a moment, and then everything he dreamed came back to him. This time, he saw her. The screaming woman.
The first part of the dream was calm, mostly because he just saw her. She was a beautiful face graced with the sanded curves over a sculpture. Her hair was dark, stained blacker than night itself, and her eyes contrasted with her curls; they were the color of the greenest pastures bathing in the warm sun. Her skin was a soft cream, and glowed with an unconditional love. She wore a drab gray tunic, aged and slightly smeared with muck, but it couldn't subtract her angelic attributes. Nothing ever could.
And after taking in her looks, there was something disturbingly familiar about her. But he couldn't put a name to a face. It surprised him that he couldn't remember that face.
And as the dream quickly melted into a violent, heart-thrashing nightmare. That beautiful face was in agony, drowning in sadness and other emotions Shadow couldn't quiet name individually; everything was meshed together. Flames chased her, smoke smothered her, and through everything he remained riveted in the same spot since the beginning. He couldn't do anything.
Not even in her final moments when death finally sank into her body, driving all the warmth and life that once filled it. Even then, her body remained beautiful even in death, and that was an image he could never shove out of his mind.
Sheema found him upright and told him it was time. He briefly combed his mussed hair, for the first time in a long time disgusted by the grease clinging to the dark wisps of hair. When he stood up and emerged into the cockpit, awkwardness settled in. That, and also a bitterness that tumbled out of Avano in palpable waves.
"Let's go," Shadow grunted, and in grim silence he watched as Kareb and Sheema lord the ship's controls. It only took a few minutes until they arrived a good several meters from the facility and hid their ship. And it only took seconds after for them to disembark and proceed to the prison.
The sun already died behind the horizon to let the moon breathe, letting the dim light illuminate their route. From the looks of things, the prison was just undergoing finishing touches. Small cargo boxes were stacked around the place, and watched over by the two guards patrolling the premises. The four ducked into the bushes, avoiding the glance of two guards posted at the prison's front.
"Could you move any faster?" Avano hissed at Shadow. "I'm tired of looking at your ass!"
He refrained from a retort and continued on. When they finally neared the back, the bushes rustled softly as they stepped out. Soundlessly they crept closer to the vent, and came to a surprise waiting for them.
Sheema was the first to comment: "You've got to be fucking kidding me!"
The grate was only big enough for one person.
"Sheema," Shadow mused. "Today's your lucky day."
Kareb and Shadow laughed softly together, knowing very well how Sheema loved tight spaces. Lucky for her, she was the only one out of all of them who could fit inside.
Sheema glared at him. "Fuck you," she grumbled before she backed up. She drew in a deep, calming breath. She raised a hand, reaching with the Force toward the grate. With a flick of her wrist, the grate ripped out of the wall and she sprinted as if on cue. The Force helped her move faster than any natural being. Timing it right, she leaped, dived forward, and disappeared prone on her belly into the dark tunnel.
"Now what?" grunted Avano.
"Now, you tell me which way is the security room," Sheema hissed through the comms.
As Avano reluctant explained to her where to go, Shadow and Kareb shuffled aside. "What's your plan with the guards?" Kareb asked. He remained silent as his brother quietly pondered the idea.
"Knock 'em out before they alert the others," Shadow suggested, seeing there was no other way they could slip past the guards. Once Avano's voice quieted, he added quickly, "I want you in the security room."
Kareb's jaw dropped. "You kidding me?" he questioned, his way to protest. But then he gave a side glance toward Avano and understood. His next words came out reluctantly: "…Alright. I guess I'll stay, seeing that I know what I'm doing in there."
"I don't underestimate your skills," Shadow assured him. "I'm confident in them, which is why you need to remain in the security room." He knew his words weren't vain as Kareb's face lit up with pride.
"I won't let you down," he promised.
"Alright, guys, I'm in," cut in Sheema's voice through their ear comms. Silently and swiftly they proceeded toward the front part of the prison. They kept close to the shadows, behind crates to elude the walking patrolmen. When they came closer to the front, they peered around the corner at the two guards posted by the door who carried a casual conversation.
"What should we expect?" Shadow hissed in his comms.
"The main hall's deserted," Sheema replied, almost in surprise. "Hold on." For a moment, silence, and then: "Yep. The guard's already made his round but you better hurry. He's on the route back."
That's our cue. Shadow jerked his chin, gesturing Kareb to follow. Together, the brothers stalked around the corner, crouched like predators nearing their target. They reached for their lightsabers just in case. Taking a deep breath, Shadow called on the Force, letting it flow through his body and making himself a willing marionette to the dark side.
He reached out and clenched both their throats throats in a strong telekinetic choke hold. Both gagged, struggled for speech, as their hands abandoned their blasters and vainly fumbled at their necks. Shadow took a breath and closed both hands. Their bodies bunched up and their heads twitched to the side as their neck unnaturally cracked.
Shadow released his grip and they dropped like dead weights. "Go!"
The three raced for the door, quickly fumbling for the guard's key card. Kareb found the plastic key and swiped it in the vertical card reader beside the door. The light flickered from red to green and the massive door slid open with a hiss of air.
"The guard's coming back to the turbolift," Sheema warned.
Shadow didn't care at this point. He unhitched his lightsaber from his belt and quietly sprinted across the smooth hallway. He ducked behind the corner that lead into the perpendicular wall and waited. The guard, helmetless, casually whistled as he neared to finish of another lap. The threat he neared crouched low to the ground.
The trooper passed the corner, and as he did his normal glance down the main corridor he was too late. In a snap a flash of red flooded his vision and warmth slid through his neck. The guard's body collapsed to the ground, his head rolling freely.
"Sheema, where are you?" Shadow demanded.
The door to their left slid open and she popped her head out as if on cue. She smiled widely, "Here," and stepped back inside the room. They didn't bother with the decapitated guard; blood started pooling the new tile. Shadow estinquished his blade and all three of them stepped into the small security room.
The chairs were occupied by headless men that Sheema didn't mind taking out messily. As long as they stayed out of the way, there was no problem. Once every was inside, they closed the door and momentarily glanced over the screens playing live footage.
"Kareb's staying here to be our lookout," Shadow explained. "Sheema and Avano are coming with me to the lower level." Avano scoffed but he ignored her as he continued, "Do we know where Rayshk is exactly?"
"Oh—his old charming self in that cell," Avano commented dryly. She pointed at the screen closest to her hip and all their attention drifted down to the gray screen. There, they saw Rayshk – leaned leisurely back in a chair with his bound hands raised – talking to a slender Togruta. And judging from the two hilts dangling from her hips, she was a Jedi.
"Shit," Shadow whispered. He honestly wished they hadn't showed up, but in all fairness he considered it a perfect opportunity. Tell his master he killed a Jedi? Perhaps he'd make amends for all the misgivings he pulled his master through. At the thought, he grinned devilishly. "What cell is that?"
Kareb leaned over the controls and did his computer thing. "That's cell 101," he answered. "When you get off the turbolift, you head down the hall it opens up to. Take a right, then a left – pass through some kind of detention center – and take another left. Follow that hall down into a room which should lead to the cell."
"Fuck, talk about elaborate," Sheema grumbled.
"You better get moving," Kareb mused, looking up at another screen. "Our presence is about to be known." Everyone glanced at the screen he was completely engrossed by, seeing the two patrolling clone troopers outside discovering their fallen brethren.
"Let's go!" Shadow abruptly turned and exited the room, trusting his brother would fare well on his own. Sheema and Avano flanked closely behind him. When they entered the turbolift, the main doors to the hall started to open. It had begun.
In a few short seconds the lift brought them down to the second level. The doors slid open and quickly they sprinted down the hall, eyes peeled for anything that would alert their presence faster than it already did. Shadow repeated his brother's instructions in his head: Take a right.
He rounded the corner into another empty hallway; he didn't slow his pace. Then a left— he skidded around another corner and stared at a mass of clone troopers gathered like a tumor in the corridor. From a quick head count, he estimated about ten, maybe twenty, troopers were gathered in that all.
They'd been alerted of their presence.
"There they are!" one shouted, and in unison they raised their blasters.
"There, in his hand!" another growled, drawing the attention to the lightsaber hilt in Shadow's hand. By then, they didn't hesitate; they opened fire.
He and Sheema's lightsabers sprang to life in an instant, deflecting the rain of bolts flying toward them. Avano ducked back around the corner and yanked her blaster pistol out of its holster. She peered around as the blasting began to subside a little and offered shots of her own.
Shadow's body trembled with delight, but no one could tell as he rushed forward. His blade swiftly cut into whatever plastic armor it could, left white-hot burns across their chests, helmets, arms—anything! Their screams, their shouts, and the frantic pounding of their boots brought him to a thrilling high. Beside him he could tell Sheema also shared his thrills. Her smile shone as bright as her lightsaber as she slashed and hacked to her hearts content.
In the time span of a minute they managed to shave the mass down to two. They got rid of the only a small portion of the cancer, and had more tumors to eradicate. The three sprinted down the corridor, Shadow in the lead still repeating his brother's instructions in his head. The farther they went, the narrower the hallway got.
Gradually, they slowed, making their way into the brightly detention center Kareb told them about. Shadow blinked as he entered the main chamber, looking down each corridor that led to many, many other empty cells. He didn't have a clue where to go; Kareb didn't exactly warn them about the other corridors. Instead of asking, he had to trust his gut.
"Guys, you need to move," Kareb's voice hissed in, breathless, "all troops are converging on your location."
"You okay?" Shadow asked.
"Fine," he panted. "They just caught me by surprise." He laughed dryly before he added quickly, "You need to get Rayshk out now."
Shadow took in a deep breath and listened, listened harder than he ever did in his life. Everything grew muffled as he focused, striving for a specific voice that he didn't know what it sounded like. The clone trooper's boots sounded like muffled thunder, the snicks of their arming blasters set to kill.
And then he heard it, a sly voice that carried a large amount of mockery. He then knew where to go. He gestured to the corridor in front of him. "This way," he shouted.
"You go," Sheema urged. "We'll stay and keep the exit route clean," she replied. Abruptly, she hissed through the comms: "Kareb, get your ass down here!"
Shadow didn't wait for anything else. Knowing they could keep their exit clear, he sprinted down the corridor until their voices faded from his hearing. Once again, he ran through his brother's instructions: he took another left and wandered into a large, empty room. His footsteps sounded hollow as they strode calmly over the loose grate flooring.
Everything felt oddly quiet.
His eyes searched for Rayshk, searched for that Jedi, but nothing came to him. He pushed through the door on the other side, and found himself staring face-to-face with Rayshk through a massive violet energy field buzzing between them.
They gawked at each other for a moment, and then finally Rayshk said: "They got me a bigger cell." He straightened in his chair and gestured his bound wrists to the control panel beside the door. "Aren't you gonna open it?"
Shadow turned and slashed the panel with his lightsaber and the containment field powered down with a soft hum. Rayshk stood from his seat, taking in a deep breath before he wrinkled his nose. "Not free yet," he grumbled. He approached Shadow with his wrists extended. "Do the honors?"
Wordlessly, he cut the bounds off the older man's wrist.
"Did Orron ever teach you words?" Rayshk shouldered past him to a compartment drawer embedded in the wall. It slid open and he pulled out his lightsaber hilt from inside. "Damn fucks are gonna regret taunting me like that," he laughed.
"Come on, our group is waiting," Shadow grumbled.
"Ah, the boy can speak." Rayshk clapped enthusiastically before he walked through the door and into the empty room. "We better hurry, that Padawan left to go check what's going on. She might come back sometime soon—" he broke off, staring straight at the other door.
Shadow gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes at the Padawan that blocked their exit. She had both lightsabers in her hand – one short than the other – and their similar green blades glowed like the eagerness in her eyes. She looked about his age, maybe a year younger, and it felt like she matched his youthful determination.
"You're not going anywhere, sleazebag," she said.
Rayshk only laughed, and took a step aside to let Shadow step forward. "My, my, child, I'm going everywhere when I get out." His gaze narrowed over at Shadow, a silent order for him to deal with this. At first, Shadow didn't want to take orders from him; the man didn't have true authority over him unlike Orron. But the thought of challenging another Force-wielder other than his master, and everyone else he was familiar with, sent pleasurable chills down his spin.
Shadow stalked forward, raising his single lightsaber to hoover diagonally across his chest, a defense posture that would give him a moment to quickly study his opponent. Then suddenly, he charged forward, dropping down, sliding, and swiping at her knees. She leaped up and over him in a smooth suspended roll. The Padawan landed square on her feet just as he got on his and twisted around, slashing at his chest.
He leaned back as the tip swept by. He crouched down and barreled into her. She tumbled off her feet, back slamming into the ground. The impact jarred on her lightsabers from her hand. Shadow wrestled up her torso, his own lightsaber raised to strike down. Her now freehand grabbed his wrist and held him back, giving her time to swipe at him with her other lightsaber.
Shadow's freehand pinned her wrist to the ground before she could. She struggled beneath him, vainly at first, until finally her knee jabbed up into his groin. A grimace twisted over his face and his grip on her wrist loosened. She freed her hand; punching his temple and jamming her knee into his flank, he rolled off her completely.
He forced himself to focus as he rolled back on his feet. Without must pause they stepped toward each other, their lightsabers fencing it out in a vicious dance. She continued pressing as the aggressor, swinging and leaping with ease, occasionally catching him with a kick or punch.
Shadow staggered, rolled, and ducked, becoming elusive of the Padawan's tactics. And once seeing her efforts left him unscathed she changed her approach. She summoned her second hilt back into her hand, and lit it before he had time to step in and do anything. In a swift motion, she shifted her smaller lightsaber into a reverse grip.
He stepped in again, and their fight continued. Their blades twirled with practiced ease, clashed and flashed sporadically on impact. And during this exchange of blows and parries, Shadow started to grow impatient. Quickly, he changed positions: he became the aggressor. His lightsaber slashed at her shoulder and she ducked, stooping back and aside to elude the hit while her lower body remained rooted to the ground.
His blade's course recalculated and drove for her head. Alas, she side-flipped before the blade finished its route. Her green blades started to twirl again in a flurry of strokes, driving him backwards. Her slashes were curt and closely packed together, but somehow he managed to keep up. And then, suddenly, her blade caught across his chest – slicing through the bandages and reopening the wound.
Fuck! Shadow howled, but mostly out of rage rather than anger. Her lightsaber came at him again, catching the side of his leg. He jerked out of it with only a minor gash. Jaw clenched, he staggered backwards. By that time, she started easing up on her attacks. It was time to end this. He leaped up and over her with a Force-augmented jump. He landed behind her in a low crouch, pivoting around as he pushed to his full height. He stood just a few inches taller.
His hand seized her wrist, and the blade in her right hand swung for his head but he ducked beneath it. His other hand caught the other wrist and he grinned. She lashed out again, a knee ramming into his abdomen and another up beneath his thigh, but Shadow was ready. He called on the Force again, jerked her arms up into the air and bent his knee. He slammed the sole of his boot against her stomach and let her go; like a raggedy doll she flew into the far wall with a sickening thud!
The Padawan slumped down, her lightsabers dying beside her with a defeated hiss. And it was over.
Shadow loped to her still body, crouching beside it and pressing his fingers against her neck. He calmed the rapid patter in his chest, and willed himself to feel the steady pulse that continued throbbing through her arteries. As much as he wanted to consider killing her, he thought it'd be better for her to live with this defeat for the rest of his life.
His blade extinguished and he returned to his full height. Rayshk clapped his hands with a delightful laugh. "Wonderful," he crowed. "I'd give that fight a seven out of ten; it didn't look like you were giving much oomph to it!" The man laughter ended with a soft chuckle before his eyes gleamed toward the Padawan's out cold body. "Is she dead?"
"No."
"No?"
Shadow easily brushed off Rayshk's surprise as he turned his attention back toward the door. Rayshk walked beside him. "Why don't you kill her?" he urged. "There's no point in leaving her alive!" The dark tone in his voice indicated he wanted Shadow to seriously reconsider.
"She'll live with the burden of this defeat for the rest of her life," Shadow answered. He narrowed his eyes at the older man. "Now we've got to hurry; my companions are waiting."
Rayshk ventured only a couple inches ahead, half-way through the door, when laughter erupted from his lips again. "Burden of the defeat?" he echoed amusingly. "Fuck, she would live with that for the rest of her eternity if you killed her. Burden of defeat, eh? Trust me, you won't know burden of defeat until it hit 'ya—"
Suddenly, Shadow's temple smashed into the door frame. His eyes grew unfocused, but he knew all too well what had happened; it was Rayshk — with his head in his hands — and he was mercilessly thrashing the apprentice's skull into the metal. The bone on metal thrashing came with a hollow sound.
It was official: the man was deranged.
After the fifth time ramming Shadow's head into the door fame, Rayshk dropped him with a ghastly grin. He leaned in, shaking his head as he reached over and touched a hand to the side of his face. When he retracted his hand, thick red stained the side of his palm.
Shadow struggled to keep his eyes open; his vision started to grow blotchy. And then his world went black, leaving him to only hear Rayshk's voice: "Live with that burden of defeat."
