Twi'leks are now color coded for your convenience!

attributed to Mysteel

(8 days ago from present)

Revan heard a faint click from the far side of his chambers. The cell door opened abruptly and a shadow descended on his hunched form. The Jedi didn't look up, knowing from the chill who it was.

"Have you made your preparations?" asked the Watcher without emotion.

The younger man didn't immediately reply. He was holding a metallic head in his gloves, turning it over in his hands like a precious relic. And in a way it was. All the secrets tucked away in the thing's memory banks.

If only he had more time and the resources.

"You cannot bring that with you." remarked his new handler. In a sense, the Watcher was a relic itself, ancient and mysterious. For every truth he told, he held back two more.

Revan never told the other person the significance of this relic, but he knew anyways. Just like he knew who Raithe was. The Watcher's accumulated wisdom may have rivaled any archive in the Republic.

"I didn't think so," Revan remarked tonelessly. "that is why I am waiting for my friend to retrieve it,". The Jedi had decided that before he left, he would entrust Exon with the relic. In the time he would be away, his companion could do more good with it than he. Both had solemnly agreed to keep this secret to themselves, away from the prying eyes of the Jedi Masters who neither of them trusted any longer. The Watcher did not object.

He thought briefly about telling Alek about the enormity he discovered. But like many times before, his friend was away from the temple and their paths were not fated to cross at this time.

They stood there in an awkward silence. Revan had no desire to trade more words with the man who would now be in charge of his life. He knew in the other thing's mind, he was simply another weapon to be wielded mindlessly at whatever foe was in store. In truth, he had initially refused to be subservient to this...machine thing, but...

Eventually the Watcher broke the silence.

"I detect a 0.3 percent fluctuation in your thyroid gland, which could be an indication of depression. Are you feeling unwell Jedi?"

"Do not call me that," said Revan sourly. "you of all people should know, I am no longer of the Order, seeing how you made the Masters take my rank."

Only after he said the words did it actually feel true. Excommunication. How did it come to this? Less than a week ago, he was a true servant of the Jedi Order, helping do his part for the Republic. Now he was a disgraced and lost thing, stripped of all his rank and honors. All because he tried to do the right thing.

The Watcher seemed amused.

"Is that what this is all about? You should not take your expulsion personally. Do not fret. You will be back within these walls soon enough."

Revan looked at the other being suspiciously.

"It is all politics." the shriveled machine thing calmly. "Your exile is convenient for the Masters because it exculpates them from any more potential...complications that might arrive from your next mission. Plausible deniability if you will. And since I have the authority to take you away from the Order, I have the ability to give it back. Succeed in the task I give you, and it will go a long way to bringing you back to your...other handlers."

Revan glared at the Watcher for his choice of words. When put that way, he sounded more like a whore on a leash, to be bandied and traded at the whims of his masters. He still did not fully understand why the council would follow this thing's demands. Perhaps they were indebted to him in some fashion. Or maybe it was the threat he represented. The Watcher clearly knew the Jedi's dirty secrets, but how he was involved remained a mystery that no Master would divulge.

Revan was only told to follow this one's orders...no matter how distasteful they would be. Not that he was given much choice in the matter. Still, what else could he do? It was not like he had a will of his own.

The thought of those terrible memories back at Solace and his involvement with Raithe jolted his anger momentarily.

"Why did you decide to send me there?" he demanded suddenly. He rose from his bed and fixed his glare at the mysterious black robed figure. The Watcher tilted his head to the side, as if observing a particularly interesting insect.

"You're mistaken Jedi. I didn't decide. She did."

And there it was. When Revan had refused point blank to follow the Watcher, he simply replied that Revan owed his life to her back on Solace.

He immediately knew who the Watcher was referring to. The woman in his dream vision. He had told no one about that person, but the Watcher knew she had touched him in his deathless state. Who was this person? And how was it that she could reach out to him in such a manner? At the strangest of times, he could feel her presence on the outskirts of his mind, no more than a cool breeze on his skin. Other times, he could feel her fill his entire presence with her light, like a blazing star on the verge of a supernova.

Curiosity had overridden his better judgement at that moment and after a long internal struggle, Revan decided he would follow this mysterious person, if only to get some real answers. But the Watcher was nothing if not cryptic.

"Stop avoiding the question," replied Revan dangerously.

The Watcher did not immediately reply, choosing to use his unreadable expression instead to gauge the other man's temperament. Revan didn't care if he was under psychoanalysis or not. He had to know.

"Why the elaborate charade? And don't say it was to test me. You could have revealed yourself earlier and told me in person,"

That seemed to amuse the Watcher. "Would you have believed me? As Raithe has probably said, you are conditioned to react in certain ways. A week ago, you would never have believed the Jedi to be capable of such...extremes. She predicted that Raithe would return to his birthplace and saw this as an opportunity to open your eyes. And only with such indisputable evidence could she have been able to alter your course of judgement."

Revan was not convinced. He took a menacing step towards the gaunt figure.

"Do not think to play games with me Watcher. I may be forced to help you, but that doesn't mean I will kowtow to every instruction you give me like a mindless droid."

He repeated his question with soft menace.

"Why. Did. You. Send. Me?"

The other man seemed unconcerned with the threat in his voice, although it was almost impossible to tell from his vacant expression.

"The truth? It was because we didn't trust you. We could not be sure that you would make the right decisions in the future. As solid as your psyche was, there were...anomalies in your behavior observed in the past that she found disconcerting. We had to be sure you were...stable."

Revan felt his pulse quicken and rage emerging to the fore. With a deep breath he pushed the anger away. He replied in a low voice.

"she was worried I wouldn't follow orders? Or because I wouldn't fall into her nice little box of plans?"

"Yes," replied the Watcher cryptically.

"And because of this, you saw fit to...test me? When the fate of that world was on the line?" he said incredulously. The Jedi couldn't believe the callousness of these people. The woman in his visions had always presented herself as someone compassionate, the paragon of fairness and morality.

Maybe she isn't as benevolent as he thought.

The Watcher replied in his cold calculating voice.

"All life is a test Revan. You may not like it, but mortals are made to dance to other people's tune. Every interaction has a reaction. It may be through conscious effort or it may not. But in the end, people manipulate each other to reach certain goals. Through money. Sex. Threats. Your test was simply on a larger scale. To judge if you were worthy to ...help her,"

Revan didn't reply immediately, he paced the large empty room like a caged animal, unsure of what to do in this unenviable situation. There was truth in the Watcher's words. Of manipulation. Force knows Revan had done it enough to other people. Whether it was on Chiron, where he had used his charisma to sway Ailene to help him or on Solace when he had been goading Melara to dance to his tune.

Revan thought nothing of it when he did it, but when he was on the receiving end...

The Watcher just continued to look at him emotionlessly.

"You should be content Jedi," he remarked eventually. "You passed the test,"

"Passed?" he echoed incredulously. "I let Raithe get away. A deranged lunatic who plans to unleash an avatar of destruction onto the galaxy. Now he has a fortress and Force knows what else at his beck and call. I hardly consider that success,"

The Watcher shook his head.

"That is not the point. What mattered is that you stayed true to your calling. That you maintained your loyalty despite the staggering pieces of evidence brought before you."

"And for that you were willing to risk the lives of a dozen Jedi. That stinks of hubris and arrogance."

The Watcher shrugged as if he didn't think his actions were that horrific. Most likely, he didn't care.

"We do not have the luxury of being the heroes everyone thinks the Jedi are. Despite what your Masters parrot to you, they have had to make huge concessions to maintain the illusion of stability within the Republic. To maintain their power. Raithe and his brood are only one example of the price they had to pay,"

Revan was aghast. He didn't think the Jedi could fall any lower than they already had.

"Only one example? What else have they done?"

"you don't want to know,"

Before Revan could argue, he raised his hand.

"Regardless, Raithe will be dealt with in time. Like you, he has a role to play in this galaxy and it would not be in our best interests to kill him just now. Trust me when I say that his...continued activity is a good thing for the Republic despite his intentions."

Revan sat back onto the hard surface that passed as his bed. He stared solemnly at the floor trying to absorb everything the Watcher had told him.

"One last question,"

"Speak," replied the Watcher simply.

"You mentioned there were...anomalies in my psyche," said Revan looking up. "When did you discover them?"

The Watcher seemed to be expecting this question as he blew a whispery sigh.

"I think you know the answer to that,"

"I want to hear you say it," said Revan grimly. The Watcher shrugged.

"Where else? Your final trial,"

(present)

A dozen figures slithered through the maze like alleyways in the Blood District, moving as quietly as possible. Among the rapidly traveling group, three of them had to be supported and if any bystander did manage to catch a glimpse, they would have realized two were bound and gagged. But in a world as dangerous as Darith, it was almost the entertainment of the night. Beggars and street whores looked the other way, fearful that they would be caught in the crossfire of Reeka's mercenaries or enemies.

Eventually these silent individuals came to a tunnel entrance leading down the abandoned subway system. The tunnel was blocked by a huge metal gate with solid hinges. Kynes approached the entrance and whispered something into the gauntlet on her right wrist. A short pause later, the metal hinges retracted. The group took one last look around to make sure they were not followed and slipped into the darkness.

The intrepid force eventually arrived at one of the abandoned subway facilities that littered the underground complex of Darith. In its former glory days, it had been an efficient system of transport. Now it was a deathtrap of scavengers and mutant mercenary rejects. But most importantly, it was away from the prying eyes of Reeka the Hutt. Even the hideous slug would think twice about searching such a dangerous enclosure. But for T'shere and her subordinates, it was the perfect hiding spot. Stealth, guile and an efficient detection system ensured no enemies would dare to invade this temporary sanctuary.

When they arrived, the prisoners were immediately transferred to the lower levels of the subway station, where they would be prepared for interrogation.

"I'll take care of it," Kynes told Mysteel. "Just get the commander patched up,"

Mysteel nodded and directed the scouts to help the wounded. After they were taken away to the infirmary, Mysteel asked Arctet and the remaining scouts to help bring her injured sister up to her room. They helped T'shere into one of the many office rooms that used to be for administrative personnel.

When they arrived, T'shere was strong enough to support her own weight. She freed herself from their grasping hands.

"That's enough freebies for one night," she told her subordinates. She smiled to take the edge off her words. The scouts shared a chuckle.

"Need any help?" Arctet asked.

In response, Mysteel shoved her baby sister into the other man's surprised arms.

"Can you take care of her for awhile?"

Arctet was about to protest that he was a scout, not their babysitter but eventually ended up sighing and shrugging his shoulders. He probably deserved this.

"Oh and remember, no peeking in the little girl's room!" she warned with mock severity to him and the rest of the scouts, mostly males. They were playfully pushed out (with many groans) from the room. Mysteel blew them a kiss and slammed the door behind her.

Arctet looked at the sleeping blue bundle in his arms.

"Quite the mission, eh?"

Mysteel helped Tshere into a metal chair. The Arkanian groaned quietly from the jerking sensation as the Twi'lek gently guided her into the seat. The Twi'lek then brought some bandages from the dresser and started tugging at her sister's ruined shirt. T'shere grabbed Mysteel's arms to stop her fussing.

"Stop that Tails," she said in an annoyed voice, snatching the bandages from her sister. "Why is it everyone on this team wants to take my clothes off or cop a feel?"

Mysteel giggled. "Now that's a stupid question,"

A dim yellow light hung above their heads. Gentle wafts of recycled air from an overhead vent blew into Tshere's silvery hair as she started to patch herself up.

"Bastard got me good." The Arkanian grumbled softly. She gingerly touched the exit wound where the lightsaber cut. T'shere noticed sourly she could smell the cooked meat where the weapon had struck and cursed the bastard that had inflicted it.

"Scars build character." commented Mysteel brightly as the Arkanian took off her top. Tshere grimaced with every movement.

"Easy for you to say, she muttered. I'm the one who has to bear it." T'shere began rubbing an anti-sceptic onto the burnt area. She gritted her teeth with every dab.

"Just be glad he didn't fork you through." Chided the Twi'lek gently. She sniffed at the Arkanian's shoulder.

"Hmmmm, smoky."

Tshere slapped the other female on the arm. Mysteel just laughed and pinched her cheek.

"Now, now" she tutted. "I can't help it if you smell good"

"Shut up and find me a new shirt," scolded her older sister, smiling nonetheless.

While she rummaged through the drawers, Mysteel made an elaborate show of looking around. "Y'know, I bet the boys would pay me a lot of credits to get a peep show going."

The Twi'lek winked at her as she handed her another dark shirt. "I'll cut you in forty percent if you're into the idea."

In spite of herself Tshere smiled. Mysteel always joked about the most inappropriate things, and that was one reason Tshere was so fond of her. Still, this was no time for joking around.

The mission comes first.

"Alright, time for my favorite part of the job. Let's sweat the prisoner and find out where the Butcher is hiding.'" Said the commander as she put her black top on. She stood up and poured herself a glass of wine from the bottle on the dresser.

"And by that I mean I want to ask him twenty questions while I poke him with my sword."

Lucidae's orders had been clear. Find out where Malleus was hiding. And discover what the Butcher had found so interesting that it warranted his Cult's attention. Despite her undignified defeat, they had managed to gain ground on both objectives. With enough pressure, Malleus' lackey would reveal the Corrupter's location. She just hoped her reinforcements would arrive in time to make the intel count.

And just in case the pawn didn't know what the Sith Lord coveted, she had taken Reeka's agent as insurance. Even though the agent never mentioned the weapon by name, he must know something about it.

T'shere smiled at the thought of the creative torture techniques Kynes could inflict. Her particular background made her a perfect interrogator.

She glanced back to see Mysteel who did not seem to appreciate her sense of humor though, as a feint frown creased her normally jovial features.

"Actually, I don't think he's the one we're after." Said the Twi'lek doubtfully. "In fact, I'm pretty sure he's not a Sith at all."

T'shere nearly choked on her wine before giving her sister an incredulous look.

"You're kidding. We caught him dealing with one of Reeka's agents. His arrival at the tavern conforms with our timeline intelligence."

She unconsciously rubbed her livid wound.

"And based on our little dance in the alley, he's definitely got the skills."

As an afterthought she added.

"And the asshole attitude."

"You're just miffed he didn't fall for your, 'let's go for a tumble routine.'" Mysteel teased gently prompting a glare from her sister.

"That's because he plays for his own team," snapped the Arkanian. "No real male could resist my charms." She flipped her silvery hair in a haughty gesture.

Mysteel giggled at the proclamation. "No argument there." She leaned against a dirty wooden table.

"Besides he's too pretty to be one of Malleus' lackeys," continued the Twi'lek. She gave an appreciative sigh. "Such a pretty face. With the nice black hair, dreamy chiseled features…"

"So the Cult was smart enough to send someone who didn't look like he pulled his face inside out." Persisted T'shere stubbornly, refusing to even consider the notion that they had captured the wrong person. Mostly because she had been humiliated twice by him.

"If you recall, just looking at his henchmen would send anyone screaming into the night. That tends to prevent negotiations."

Her counterpart though did not look convinced. T'shere was getting annoyed, a common occurrence.

"Any more bright ideas, Tails?"

"He wasn't wearing black…and his lightsaber is blue?" Mysteel remarked. It sounded more like a question than a statement.

T'shere rolled her eyes.

"That's…a horrible argument."

"It's the best one." stated the Twi'lek proudly. One of her tentacles came up to her hand, and she wrapped it around her finger idly.

"Didn't you know? Lightsabers are color coded for our convenience. Just like Twi'leks!"

Mysteel chuckled softly at her own quip.

"Whatever." Said Tshere dismissively. "Next you're going to say he's a Jedi."

"It's true!" Persisted Mysteel enthusiastically. She hopped onto the old table, its hinges creaking in protest at the weight. She started counting off her fingers to make her point.

"The red, purple and grey Twilek's are always evil. It's written into their genetic code! The rest of us, the blue, yellow and oranges? We're the nice ones. Oh except green. Green ones go either way. Kinda like you."

She put a finger into her mouth and smiled luridly.

"Now that's hot."

Mysteel didn't wait for an answer to her ridiculous theory, laughing that melodic sound so many people found alluring. Tshere just rolled her eyes.

"Your reassuring evidence notwithstanding, I'll be glad to give him a red smile any day."

She cracked her knuckles at the prospect. "Eye for an eye and all that."

"Oh, I'm sure he's not that bad of a sort," insisted Mysteel.

"How can you be so sure?" retorted T'shere with mounting annoyance. Mysteel rarely disagreed with anything she said. She had always felt uncomfortable around the other man. Not always in imminent danger perhaps, but something about him was definitely off. Like his face was simply a façade to something else. But Mysteel seemed perfectly fine with their enemy, despite having knocked him unconscious hours ago. Now, the Arkanian felt a tinge of jealousy that her sister had sided with someone she didn't even know.

"I'm beginning to think you wanted the bastard to kill us. Two less nagging sisters to deal with."

Mysteel's smile had disappeared then and she folded her arms underneath her breasts. "That's not funny," she said hotly.

"I'm just saying there's a chance we screwed up and if so, he probably deserves a lot better than what we've given him so far."

"Right, he's a saint. Probably didn't get that part since he was too busy ruining my perfect features!" T'shere snapped. There was definitely a mounting tension in the air now as both females refused to back down.

"Maybe he did you a favor. Now you won't spend so much time preening in front of a mirror." Retorted the Twi'lek.

T'shere stood up in a sudden rage, ignoring the pain shooting out of her shoulder. The situation had become ugly. While T'shere was older and in command, both sisters had a stubborn streak and neither did not want to admit their faults.

"I guess that just leaves more sods for you then. One of your boy-toys could kill us all and you probably wouldn't care! You were probably holding back, hoping the bastard killed me so you could take my place! Is that it?"

The look of shock on Mysteel's face instantly made T'shere regret her words. Her shock was replaced by anger then as her bright blue eyes started to mist up.

"Don't even joke about that!" The Twi'lek's voice was trembling. "If anything happened to any of you…I would…" Mysteel trailed off then as she began to cry.

T'shere's anger faded as quickly as it came as she realized her words had crossed a line. She quickly walked up to Mysteel and embraced her sobbing sister.

"It's okay." Tshere whispered softly. "Shhh stop crying, I'm sorry I said that."

She patted the golden skinned female on the head.

The Twi'lek sniffled, resting her head on the other's shoulder. Both of them stayed quiet for a long time, letting their emotions settle back to normal.

"I was scared you know…" Mysteel remarked eventually. "When he brought you down. I thought he killed you. I'm just thankful he didn't."

T'shere nodded and in a soothing voice added.

"I know you would never hurt me intentionally, you've always got my back."

Mysteel turned to look Tshere with a mischievous smile.

"But that didn't stop me from knocking his lights off though. I wasn't that thankful."

They both chuckled at those words. The two sisters spent some more time in silence, just being comfortable in each other's company. Times of respite were fleeting and they cherished those quiet moments they had with each other.

When they had both composed themselves enough, Tshere said in a stronger tone. "Come on. We don't want to keep our guest waiting. I'll scope him out, get a sense of where he's coming from. If he's not one of Malleus' lackeys then I'll be very interested to know who he actually is."

The Twi'lek nodded eagerly. "Sounds like a plan. Just don't…ruin his pretty face yet."

"I'll start with his junk. He doesn't need that." T'shere snickered wickedly as Mysteel gave her a pouty look. As they started walking the commander mulled over her off hand words earlier.

He couldn't really be a...Jedi could he? She thought. This was the first time the possibility had come up to her seriously. If he was a Jedi...what was he doing on this criminal world ruled by the Hutts? Surely the Jedi had no interest in the affairs of those that were not Republic citizens or that which didn't help their own needs.

Shrugging the ridiculous notion away, she walked out of the office area, trailed closely by Mysteel, who had regained a skip to her step.