A/N: Thanks all for the AWESOME reviews! Sorry about grammar/structure flaws in the stories; I do proof-read but still might miss one or two. I will be cleaning those up at a later date Anyhow; onward!

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SW Ep. IV: Dark Assassin Ch.25: The Arena

"They trained me," Luke emotionlessly told them, staring at the far wall, "far and beyond what any other assassin walking this galaxy has been through; but each day, I swore I'd escape."

"But, you saw being trained as the only way of ever seeing it through?" Mace inquired.

"Yes; because it was. None of my family was alive…that I knew of; no one missed me, everyone on Tatooine thought I was dead or simply…gone." Luke shook his head. "And my…'owners' had sold me; what other options were open?"

Everyone was silent. Ben exhaled guiltily.

"I wish I had known Luke," he confessed heavily, "I would have come for you."

Another head shake. "It wasn't to be though, I guess."

"No, it seems not," was the subdued concession.

"It's all so much to take in," Luminara admitted after a moment's silence, "even with the darkness the Sith have infested the galaxy with…what they did to you, and to the others…."

The silence became weightier when everyone realized that since Luke had been augmented by the 'parts' of others, no one really knew how Dromerick had acquired those organs, tissues, fluids and so forth.

Or how many people had been butchered for said parts…no one pointed out they probably had to have been children, like Luke, to 'fit' him correctly.

It was macabre enough that they all knew it.

Biggs put a hand on Luke's shoulder. "Now, tell them the rest, how you escaped—it'll help."

His tone was encouraging, uplifting. Luke forced a small smile.

"It's not the 'happy ending' you're all hoping for," he dourly professed.

Leia gave a coaxing nod. "Please, tell us anyways?"

Luke caught Han smirk when he bashfully glanced down at the blankets. He discreetly elbowed the other, who only grinned wide.

He opened his mouth and shut off his emotions; it was easier to finish this way:

The 'real' training grew more intense by the 'session.' Luke was subjected to all sorts of insane scenarios: death-trap catacomb-mazes, starship crashes on abandoned planets, battles with cyborg-warriors, hand-to-hand fights with rancors and other beasts (and he was expected to kill not only maim them); survival isolation: going for days and weeks (Luke assumed) without water, food and shelter and finally: training to resist torture.

"In the event your captured by a rival to your master, you'll be tortured," Dromerick indifferently supplied, "so, we're going to be certain you'll not become a liability."

But, Dromerick had given Luke an incentive after several weeks of 'training' to lessen the number and severity of the sessions: begin training to kill live people, not merely destroy cyborgs.

Luke had refused for a long time, but apparently, refusal meant his 'torture' training would be increased in both arenas: frequency and severity. It was a long while before Dromerick added one more incentive.

"They'll be criminals, other assassins; they'll be out to kill you just as you them. So, if you want to survive; I suggest you win."

Luke kept to himself that he pondered for days if he did want to go on living, before deciding that he did. He hadn't been certain why he chose then to go on; his life had been so horrible, so gruesome and nightmarish…but when he looked at the wreckage of his mother's skiff, he'd known then:

He'd longed to find his family; to discover who they were so he could discover who he was. Something, out there in the stars had been calling out to him.

He was certain Ben would tell him now: "It had been the Force, Luke."

Something glimmered deep inside him suddenly, as if to say he'd've been right.

He went on:

Dromerick hadn't even asked Luke what his decision had been; he simply had the boy thrown into the forest-landscaped arena and told him: "you'd better live, boy."

Luke had.

And he had then next time, and the next, and the next and so on.

His opponents hadn't though. To this day, he could still recall the wet snap of his first opponent's spine as he broke the man's neck; a man easily in his late 20's and twice Luke's size.

Dromerick had smiled smugly when Luke emerged, like a proud father. Luke looked away from him.

He silently swore after his first 'kill,' he'd not rest until Dromerick was dead.

"And did you kill him?" Luminara asked, not unkindly.

Luke nodded. "He'd made his mistake; I took advantage of it." He swallowed hard at the memory. "I destroyed the installation…no one survived but me." He put his head down. "I…I don't expect any of you"—

"No one is here to judge you Luke," Leia firmly said, leaning forward to grasp his upper arm. "They bought you like…like…" she fumbled for a word that wasn't 'slave' but pushed forward when her vocabulary failed her, "and did horrible, unspeakable things to you. And from what you just said, you were only meant to be the first. He was going to make an army Luke; an army." She exhaled sharply. "Just think of all the children you saved from what you were put through by destroying that evil place."

Luke dared to glance up. No harsh, condemning expressions were aimed his way. He uncoiled a bit.

"We might be coming up on Yavin soon," Han suddenly said, "Why don't we let Luke rest a while and I'll take turns beating you all at Sabbacc." He got up and stretched. "Biggs, you wanna lose first?"

Biggs gave him a flat stare. "You always win cause of your tricked out program board; I lose to the board, not you."

Mace gave Obi-Wan a wan look as he herded the two arguing men out the door; Luminara trailed behind with Leia, who gave Luke a small smile of gratitude before the door shut behind her.

Luke solemnly turned to Obi-Wan. "You're staying here?"

Ben nodded. "I think it's best."

"Because?"

Ben exhaled and gave him a level stare. "When your father was burdened with some terrible thing, he'd haunch his shoulders and try to 'subtly' get me to leave him alone."

Luke had looked away. Brooding eyes regarded him anew. "And how successful was he?"

"More successful than you're going to be."

His tone was amiably blunt; that perked Luke's curiosity.

And he had no doubt Ben was baiting him with the topic of his father to get him talking—to make him open up.

Luke wanted to shudder but didn't. He'd done more than enough 'opening up' to last him the remainder of his life. Baring his soul, feeling so raw and exposed hardly suited him.

No; he'd sooner fly his ship into the Maw—again. It felt safer than this.

But…he couldn't deny the topic of his father did intrigue him. And some careful probing wouldn't hurt—so long as he was cautious. Ergo, he was game.

Sabbacc sounded uninteresting anyways; this game would be more worthwhile.

"He did?"

Ben smiled. "Yes, and when he realized I wasn't going to simply walk away as he'd hoped he would try to change the subject."

Ah; so the Jedi was more discerning than he'd first thought. Pity; or…was it?

Luke shifted his body so he faced Obi-Wan. "You were-are General Kenobi."

Ben was silent waiting.

"How much action did you see in the Clone Wars?"

"How much action…as in 'how much blood, death and madness' I assume?"

His tone was too even. Found out again; my but he was sharp.

Luke briefly wondered just how many horrors the man had been forced to behold to make him so…steady.

He sighed. "Yes, all of the above."

"Far too much; your father did too."

"I believe a cantina would call that tidbit: on the house."

Ben laughed. "I suppose it would." He put a hand on Luke's shoulder. "But Luke, you don't need to wheedle information about Anakin out of me; I'm not in your 'professional sector,' after all, am I? I was your father's best friend."

Luke didn't realize his muscles had tensed up again until they unwound. "No…I suppose not." He sighed; he wasn't used to all of this 'playing fair.' It was always kill or be killed; outsmart or being outsmarted, be one step ahead or six feet in the ground.

This was all…so new. It belatedly occurred to Luke that it was in a way, refreshing though.

Ben was right; there was no need for subterfuge with him—or any of the Jedi—no need for trickery or manipulation. But, didn't that infer the other way around was true as well?

"You want to know, don't you?" Luke watched Ben's mouth tighten in a thin line. "How exactly I escaped?"

Ben exhaled slowly. "Luke," he gently replied, "I…all of us…could sense some very deep, very old pain…like an infection inside of you. An infection…a wound must be lanced in order to bleed out the disease and to heal properly."

"And you think talking about it will…'lance the wound'?"

"I believe it will."

"Did it ever help my father?"

Ben's expression was mournful. "For some reason, Luke," he admitted, his tone weary from many years of grief, "your father was more secretive with me than I thought was necessary; I would have listened to anything he had to say, helped him in any way I could. We Jedi, we never were allowed families in the sense that others have; we were each other's brothers and sisters. Your father was my brother; I…I wish he had been more open with me."

"You don't think being so secretive helped him."

"No…I think in the end, those secrets," Ben sighed heavily, painfully, and looked away. He pressed a hand to his face, rubbed his eyes and Luke reached out, wondering if the aged Jedi was going to weep.

The only reason Luke didn't label this the greatest manipulative ploy he'd seen in years was the Force whispered to him he was seeing no guile in Ben; he had loved Anakin this much, he'd wanted to help Anakin that badly.

And his father hadn't let him—why? It made no sense. If they were so close, then why push him away?

Whatever the reason, it was clear now that Ben was making the same offer to Luke, that of listening, of helping, of friendship in so many words.

For his father's sake no doubt; but regardless, Luke wondered just how safe it would be for Ben should he take his offer.

Well; he was already a renegade Jedi-General considered a wanted criminal by the Empire; how much worse do you get than that?

Not much, Luke knew.

Something inside of him, passed his endless internal walls and barricades did want a friend he didn't have to live in constant fear of endangering. Ghost was protected by her special abilities and secrecy; Link and Mouse by the same. Han had Chewie. Biggs Luke worried about to no end; Tank likewise. And his other associates; they had each other and their incognito as well.

But still…even if Ben couldn't lead him to his father, he still had known him better than anyone presently living; how could he turn that away?

"I didn't know the Jedi Code condoned friendship overtures to professional assassins," he said by way of concession.

Obi-Wan grinned. "Well, it's not in the creed, so to speak, but…it doesn't specifically address it either."

Luke mirrored his grin. "So…you mean that leaves room for interpretation?"

"Well, let's just say it does."

Luke couldn't repress the snicker.

Ben gave him a sympathetic look. "The facility, there was more, wasn't there?"

Something sharp jabbed Luke's stomach and he looked away. Ben's one hand laid over his.

"Luke, you already told us what they did to you, more or less"—

Blast; they had picked up on his omissions then. Well, no matter, if he didn't want to reveal everything that was his choice; not theirs.

"General," he sharply cut in.

"Please," the Jedi softly insisted, "I know you're slow to trust, but…," he let out a labored breath, "Luke…I couldn't save your father…I wanted to, more than I could ever say. I would like to do something to make up for it…to both of you."

Luke's shoulders slumped. All right; how was he supposed to argue against that!?

He sighed; he had never tasted defeat before.
The bizarre part was, he didn't find it all that unpleasant. It was almost like some part of him was looking forward to unloading the weight of what Ben wanted to know.

And all of the grisly details; Luke swallowed. Ben would regret this, he had no uncertainty about it.

"Ben, you weren't exaggerating were you; that bit about being used to the blood and gore?"

Ben dolefully shook his head.

"I'd say 'good,' but it's not."

"No, it isn't," was the sullen reply.

Luke let out a focusing breath; his chest hurt. His forehead was aching dully now too.

He wanted to laugh; he now had medical evidence that openness and honesty were proof-positive bad for one's health, and he couldn't even take actual humor from it.

Pathetic; what would have Telile said?

His throat closed. He didn't enjoy thinking about her either.

"Luke," Ben murmured coaxingly.

Luke hesitated, but Noc, who was sitting on the headboard near his shoulder, reached over and butted his neck with his beak. Ben smiled at the bird and Luke patted his head.

All right; he was over-ruled, he was man enough to admit it.

He gave Ben a dire look. "Remember though, you asked me," he said. Ben only nodded.

Luke began:

As the days stretched into weeks, and Luke was slowly able to tell time again, it became increasingly clear he was now in a race, pitted against Dromerick.

A race for freedom…a race for his sanity and what was left of his soul.

As each day came, he was led in binds to the 'arena' a large amphitheater like structure that was able to become any number of training simulations. He and his now multiple adversaries would fight to the death in scorching deserts, frozen tundra's, dense jungles filled with poisonous creatures, tar pits and bogs, just to name a few.

And of course he never knew ahead of time which terrain would meet him, or how many foes awaited him in the Arena; he only knew he had to win.

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A/N: Okay, so that's it for now kiddos; plz enjoy and leave a review!