You have no idea how mad I am right now. I had a nice beginning to this all written out...and then my computer crashed and deleted everything I'd written for this story and Time's Scar. All my music and already completed fanfiction are gone, too. But, the good thing is, my computer is fixed for the time being, and I'm back to writing. I really want to go crawl down a hole now...This is the only story I'll be updating this weekend, too. I'm in a bummed mood. Meh.
Sorry about the slight delay, The Giant Daifuku and Riku Uzumaki...
As he approached the tall figure standing before the vast amount of space outside the ship, Starkiller held Shaak Ti's lightsaber in a tight grip. A single drop of sweat trickled down his forehead, but he quickly wiped it away the moment he stood behind his master. Vader didn't turn around; not that he usually did. Normally, Starkiller would have gotten down on his knees and bowed, but for some reason, he found himself unable to do so.
"The Emperor's fleet has arrived," Vader spoke, his voice deep and grave.
Starkiller nodded his head, almost smirking grimly. "You have lured the Emperor to us...When do we strike?"
"I did not summon him."
The large doors behind them slid open, and the cloaked figure of the Emperor approached them. Starkiller whirled around, at the ready, but the moment he turned a red lightsaber was sticking through his chest. He gasped, falling to the floor as soon as the blade was pulled out of him. It felt like his entire chest was burning!
"His spies followed you here," Vader snarled quietly, and as soon as the Emperor stood over the apprentice's fallen from, he bowed. "What is thy bidding, my master?"
"You have forgotten your place, Lord Vader." The Emperor was more menacing and vile in person than Starkiller expected. "By taking this boy as your apprentice, you have betrayed me. Now, you will kill him, or I will destroy you both."
Starkiller, clutching at the burnt, gaping wound in his chest struggled to get up from the floor. He stared with pleading eyes at Vader. "Master," he choked out, "we can defeat him together..."
His words were easily ignored. "Do it now, Lord Vader! Strike him down and prove your loyalty to me!"
The events that took place next were nothing more than a blur to Starkiller. He seemed to fall into an abyss, much worse than the death Shaak Ti predicted for him. He felt...cold, almost. But it wasn't icy-cold like he expected. It was almost comforting, even. Yet there was nothing there, nothing but—
—darkness.
Balthier turned his hazy eyes toward the sliding doors and held out his arms almost instantly, already used to the routine. The storm troopers clicked the cuffs around his wrists and dragged him out of the small cell, the familiar scent of burning metal and grime filling his senses. Balthier closed his eyes to the sound of voices barking out orders, his feet moving all on their own. He knew the way all too well, and if he had the chance, he probably would have had the entire lay out of the Executor memorized, too.
The hand cuffs around his wrists were loose enough that he could have tried to escape, yet after nearly six months of nothing but mindless suffering and sitting in that cell, he'd lost the will to do much else. Six months of interrogation about Starkiller, six months of beatings and torture, six months of isolation...Balthier sighed at the thought: he'd been away from Ivalice so long. He wondered if anyone even noticed that he was gone.
One of the storm troopers tugged at his chains, and Balthier begrudgingly quickened his sluggish pace. His bare feet clapped against the tiled flooring, standing out from all the clanking of boots of the soldiers and engineers. He opened his eyes and glanced toward the troopers guiding him up the stairs, toward the rifles held tightly in their arms.
Six months...It had been six long months since Starkiller was killed at the hands of his own master. Juno had been quartered somewhere else within the massive ship, and PROXY had been taken in and ordered to have his memory wiped and re-written. Sometimes Balthier wished that would have been his fate; at least then he could forget the face that plagued his mind since that first night. The acolyte was a cruel, cruel woman...No wonder she appeared as Ashe every time she visited his cell.
She would show up without warning, and the first thing she would always do was remove the veil and reveal Ashe's face. Balthier learned to look away from those menacing gray eyes after the first month, though she often punished him even more if he avoided them. He was just glad she didn't take on the face of anyone else. If the acolyte wore Fran's face, Balthier would have definitely lost his mind sooner.
"Keep walking," the storm trooper behind him commanded, jabbing their rifle against his neck.
Balthier squinted, not realizing he'd stopped walking altogether. They were in a hall way he didn't recognize, which probably wasn't a good thing. Nevertheless, he trudged on wherever the storm troopers were taking him, silently hoping this was the day they would finally put an end to this misery.
However, his hopes were worthless when he was shoved into a transport shuttle.
His legs gave out as soon as the storm troopers unlocked his chains. It felt as if a large weight had been lifted from him, so overwhelming that he'd nearly lost consciousness. If it hadn't been for the pairs of arms warmly wrapped around his feeble frame, he would have fallen further.
"Oh, Balthier," Juno whispered, pressing her forehead against his. "Balthier—you're alive..."
The doors slammed shut behind them, and it wasn't until the shuttle started to move that Balthier acknowledged her presence. He pushed away from her enough to see her completely, and he was almost relieved to see that her condition was far better than his own. The only thing out of place was the small bruise on her cheek, which evoked a small singe of jealousy from him.
"I had thought that Vader would have—I mean, considering you're not from here..." She bit her lower lip. "I just thought he would have killed you, just like he killed..." Her voice trailed off, unable to say Starkiller's name.
Balthier pursed his cracked lips and carefully eyed Juno's trembling form. "Where are they taking us?" he asked. His voice was hoarse. "Do you know?"
"I remember hearing the storm troopers talking about the ISS Empirical, Vader's mobile research facility. It's where he houses all the prisoners he plans to use for experiments." She paused. "I suppose after so long, we've out run our usefulness."
"Experiments?" Balthier cringed. "No...Vader doesn't want me dead. He said the Emperor wanted use of my magick...No, that's impossible. That acolyte never killed me—Ashe never killed me."
Juno placed both her hands on his cheeks, stopping his rambling. "Balthier. It's all right. You're not alone anymore." With a forced smile, she looked toward the end of the cell where a set of supplies lay. She searched through the pack, pulling out a mirror and a blade, and then returned to where Balthier was sitting. "Here, let's get you cleaned up."
He wasn't too surprised at the sight of his own reflection. His eyes had a sunken look to them, and he was paler than he remembered. There was a small amount of stubble on his chin, only because he was determined to keep up his appearance despite the circumstances back on the Executor. He didn't want Ashe to think he was getting reckless, did he? The rest of his face was lightly caked with dirt and grime, with spots of blood dried up on his small scars. He winced when he saw the outlines of his veins from beneath his skin.
"What's happened to me?" he murmured, touching his forehead. "It should have gone away...I thought—"
"You don't know when to stop talking, do you?" Juno pressed the blade into his hands and enclosed his fingers around it. It pained him to think he could have just killed her right then; he could put an end to the misery before it continued. "I'll fix your hair. Can't have you look like a drunken fool when we head into the lab, do we?"
He shaved off the stubble from his chin while she trimmed up his hair. She was careful not to hurt him, as if she believed that one more cut would send him into a frenzy. Juno knew nothing of what happened to him over the past months, but he didn't know what happened to her, either. Starkiller's death hurt her more than it did for him; he could see it in her eyes. Hopeful, but already lost.
When Balthier set the mirror down, tempted to just toss it aside and watch it break, Juno gingerly ran a hand through his slightly tousled hair. She was silent, though her breath was suppressed and weak. It took him a moment to realize that she was crying. She leaned into his back, burying her face between his shoulder blades as her sobs became thick and loose.
But she still said nothing, and neither did he.
The shuttle stopped abruptly not long after, and the doors slid upon to reveal a group of storm troopers armed with rifles and pistols. Juno, her eyes red and puffy with tears, moved away from Balthier and stood up. He remained sitting on the floor, closing his eyes the moment he felt Juno's presence leave him. Two storm troopers pulled him to his feet, dragging him to some place he didn't even care to see.
When a week passed by without a visit from the acolyte, Balthier was beginning to think that he was finally free. She must have remained aboard the Executor, or had been sent off to go torture some other poor soul. The only thing that disappointed him was that he wasn't able to see Ashe's face in reality. In his dreams, she was always there.
It became obvious that he wasn't going to be used for 'experiments', like Juno had believed. He was isolated in his cage, only visited by others when delivered food and other items he needed in order to survive. It was odd—he almost missed the feeling of the Force-lightning running across his skin, sending him into a deep sleep nearly every night. It was...troubling.
Perhaps he had gone mad...
Balthier opened his eyes as the doors opened, though no one entered the cell. Confused and slightly curious, he crawled over to the door and peered around the corner, raising both eyebrows when he saw storm troopers running about the place. A number of cages had already been dismantled, and the controls looked to be disabled. Balthier frowned, looking up as a voice came over the speaker on the ceiling.
"Security breach in sector nine! Subject 1138 has escaped! Set blasters to kill!"
:D
