The day reminded Padmé of waiting for the Petranaki arena execution. No, it was worse. At least there she could roughly guess what would await her, Anakin and Obi-Wan. A bloodthirsty crowd numbering in the hundreds of thousands. Beasts or mercenaries or both hired to kill them all in ways to appease the masses and organizers. Rescue unlikely, the only chance of survival depending on whatever ingenuity or skills the three could bring to bear and hopefully last long enough to find a way out.
Stuck at home like a prisoner and performing her duties from afar only enhanced the tension permeating through the air. Her revelatory conversation with Anakin just shy of twenty-four hours ago removed what little security she still felt on Coruscant. People she once spoke to openly and considered friends became instantly suspicious quite literally overnight with a handful of exceptions. A sickening tension began to fill the air within every room of her home, like a blaster permanently pressed into your chest and the gunman taking his time to pull the trigger.
Padmé asked her husband if this was what the Dark Side was. The pregnancy changed her in ways besides the obvious. She felt more attuned to the people and even objects around her. At times it was like the joy or pain of another was intimately hers too. Perhaps this was what let Bail's growing dissatisfaction with Palpatine echo into her thoughts so effectively. And what let her feel the smog gathering in the air, like a poisonous gag leaving her short of breath. Anakin's confirmation and follow-up hypothesis that their Force-sensitive children were enhancing their mother's attunement to the mostly hidden currents of the universe making it all up gave her the final answer. His joke about Padmé becoming a Jedi once the twins came only slightly made her feel better. Anakin's quiet assurance that measures were taken for the protection of their family worked quite substantially more.
But fully relaxing was impossible, Palpatine or whoever he worked with would make his move as soon as things escalated again on Utapau. Padmé couldn't flee for fear of spurring him into earlier action. It also meant she couldn't increase her standard security measures lest the Sith become aware and bolster their efforts should they go after them. The situation there, however, would give her an opportunity to leave while whatever forces behind the scenes were too pre-occupied to focus solely on her escape.
The clothes she wore outwardly appeared her standard Senatorial garb, expanded to help conceal the pregnancy, but that was far from the only modification made. Built into the fabric was an intricate web of armor weave plating running through the length, protecting most of her body. The most significant portion of the weave covering her belly. It fit her needs perfectly, allowing for ease of movement and protection precisely tailored for surviving a fight or buying oneself enough time to escape it.
Her hidden weapon cache was never too far away. Built into the left couch of the veranda, a single press on her inconspicuous looking datapad would burst it open, revealing a slew of blaster and ion weaponry capable of bringing down any human or droid threat. Her daily routine was altered thanks to the pregnancy but not for the first time, she'd already reported feeling unwell on several occasions before. One more time shouldn't make things too peculiar, hopefully.
And so Padmé went about her business to the greatest level of normalcy possible. She chatted with Threepio, received regular security reports from Captain Typho, followed any goings-on in the Senate via communication with Bail or Mon Mothma. Nothing of substantial worth happened there. Palpatine spoke, the Senate bobbed their heads up and down throughout and the irrelevancy of the whole ruling body became even more woefully obvious. Eventually, night came and with it, the lingering effects of the Dark Side seemed to intensify, sending a chill running through Padmé.
With each passing moment, its thickness grew, smothering the entire apartment in a sensation that's only close comparison could be the vacuum of space. Even her instinct to escape right then and there was drowned out by the sensation. As if something were telling her nowhere was safe from this evil power. It was only the presence of the twins, a pair of beacons shining her surroundings that kept the feeling from overwhelming her entirely. That and the Dark Side suddenly... Leaving the apartment. Staring off into the distance, towards the dome of the Senate, Padmé could almost see the thick blankets of smog rushing past the skyscrapers of Coruscant through the rainy night and swirling above the dome. As if the power was focused there entirely. The thought of being in the middle of... That was maddening.
She didn't have long to stare, however, because something else in the apartment caught her attention: the lights inside suddenly going out along with a buzzing warning in the back of her head of imminent danger. She didn't know what it was or where precisely, but the same instinct from before now led her hand to dart quickly across the datapad and open the weapons cache. Before the hidden compartment split open and she could grab hold of an ion rifle - the first thing that came to mind for defense - a series of electrical, sizzling noises suddenly appeared from the shadows. Followed by the clanking of durasteel feet. One of them, the closest rushed toward her, its light-giving Padmé a close look at the mechanical monstrosity attacking her. A white cloak, twin red eyes and what looked like a staff bearing down in attack.
Before the staff could strike her, a snap-hiss from behind the couch accompanied by a green light blocked the stab a moment before the droid was flung back into the shadows. Padmé heard it crash against the wall while its partners began swinging their own weapons in almost dizzying maneuvers, their advance and attention focused on the elderly looking Jedi Knight whose appearance she could barely discern save for his hair being tied back into a tail. Stepping over the couch, he placed himself between her and the attackers, green blade held casually at his side.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" His aged but soothing voice said, taunting the droids.
They seemed to understand because their spinning about became even more impossible to follow. From what Padmé could see, there were at least seven or eight of the droid attackers, could the Knight really beat them by himself? When he made no move to defend himself, the question became even more obviously no, until something else happened in the shadows. A strange sensation swept through the room, a sort of warbling feeling that seemed to focus in from one spot behind the droids a moment before a purple lightsaber skewered one through the back and lobbed off another's arm.
Distracted by this new arrival, the remaining five droids left themselves open which the first Jedi to appear used to strike, slicing the tip of his blade across red eyes first and then severing its legs. When his hand came back up, Padmé expected him to push the two remaining droids occupied with him. Instead, he spun the discarded staff through the air like a buzzsaw, managing to simultaneously use it to attack while he jumped behind the attackers, engaging them in the more open section of the veranda. His partner was impossible to follow, whoever they were, they seemed to randomly disappear and then reappear in completely different spots, confounding Padmé almost as much as the attacking droids who found themselves assaulted and gradually wilted down through blinding lightsaber slashes all over their bodies.
The first Jedi, who'd dispatched another droid leaving him only with one lost the edge of surprise, being pushed back farther and farther into a corner by the attacker's relentless staff flourishes, now wielding two from one of its discarded pals. His partner was busy dispatching the last of her own droids. Padmé wasted no time, reaching into the cache and pulling out an ion rifle. Without thinking, her body seemed to move on its own, firing the ion blast through the dizzying motions and into the droid's right side stomach. The machine halted instantly, jerking in spasmodic motions while bursts of electricity made it shine in the darkened apartment. A moment later, the first Jedi carved it to pieces.
"You have my thanks, Senator Amidala," The first Jedi chuckled, holding his saber aloft to light the darkened apartment. Stepping closer, Padmé got a proper look at him. His black hair seemed grayed and the wrinkly features of his face might've made him appear imposing with the two scars adorning his face if it wasn't for the kindly, almost grandfather-like smile. "I am Master Tholme, one of the Jedi Masters tasked with overseeing your safety-"
"We've got to move, Tholme, there'll be more of them for certain," His partner spoke with an aged, decidedly less friendly voice. Her features masked even as the purple glow of her lightsaber illuminated the surroundings.
"Along with my charming partner, the Dark Woman," He laughed before sobering. "Who is incidentally correct, Coruscant is no longer safe for any of us. Come, we've not a moment left to lose."
The Temple was a mess of frantic activity. Padawans and younglings found themselves hastily removed from their classes or crèches and led deep into the underground pathways. Secret routes built following the Sack of Coruscant to ensure that, should the Jedi's home ever come under attack again, there would be ways to save the Orders future from harm and death. These pathways connected the Temple to secure, highly restricted underground paths running underneath Coruscant itself, along with landing pads with space-worthy vessels.
Kit Fisto already knew they had entered their first-ever use mere days prior when the evacuation began and was handled with more subtlety. Now, with the danger reaching its zenith, the Clone Wars approaching their crescendo, all semblance of normalcy was removed. Besides the departure of the young ones, troves upon troves of Jedi and even Sith knowledge were being transported as well by the various Knights and Masters overseeing the Temple Library. The enemy would gain no advantage from them.
Elsewhere, the Temple was sealed tighter than in any of the past one thousand years. All four main entrances into the Temple were sealed off with scores of Knights, Masters and even security personal and droids guarding each one. Master Tiin sat ready in the Temple hangar, ready to launch at a moment's notice to cut down any possible attack from the sky. A few other surprises recently installed to the Temple were also there to hamper the enemy. Yes, their home was ready. As much as it could be given the fact so many able-bodied warriors were far off-world, stuck between two enemy armies, one obvious and the other lying in wait for them. Luckily, the Council sent out warnings through Jedi specific and encrypted channels well before Palpatine was discovered to be Sidious. Telling Padawans, Knights and Masters alike a very simple message: do not trust the Clones.
Yet even as he stood at the promenade entrance, Master Draling and numerous other Jedi familiar and foreign to his eyes, Kit Fisto could not entirely believe what was happening. The Republic was well and truly lost. Its leader and supposed savior a Sith Lord who would, if Mace did not win, undoubtedly lay siege to them soon enough. A thousand years of peace and prosperity all nearing its end. Even Kit's good humor couldn't find a silver lining in such a situation. It was a feeling only enhanced by what he felt beyond the walls of the Temple.
The Dark Side was focused at a singular place, removing itself from all of Coruscant, drawn by Sidious... And Mace both. Kit was no stranger to its sensations, his chosen fighting style, and its inherent aggression sometimes taking him very close to places most Jedi would not and should not go. But what he felt here, even across several districts away was power beyond power. A nexus point of absolute dark energies with a weight he was sure could crush starships. Mace was most definitely drawing himself deep within that raging storm, but could he withstand it? Even with Vapaad.
Silently, everyone guarding the promenade observed the fight as though it were happening mere inches away, waiting to see what would happen. Wanting to intervene but knowing full well it would be futile. The retreating Jedi needed everyone to guard their escape and if Mace should fall, every moment he could buy for them. Kit didn't know how long they stood there, waiting for what would happen next. What he was certain of was the collective chill that ran down their bodies when the Dark Side simmered down but did not vanish.
Whatever storm that raged inside it had finished. But it didn't vanish. Instead, it began to spread back out across Coruscant, covering everything outside the Temple in the same smog as before. If its potency grew any more, the Jedi Temple would appear as a single island of normalcy in a void of absolute nothingness. Even the rainstorm of Coruscant's artificial weather seemed as far away from them as the system's sun.
"Shaak Ti," Kit contacted her, fingers curled tightly around his saber. "How close is the evacuation to completion?"
"Halfway there. We've already taken all of the information from the Archives to safety and deleted the rest," She sighed on the other end. "But we'll need more time if we're to get everyone out-"
The ground began to shake beneath their feet, increasingly so with each passing moment. A rhythmic thumping numbering in the thousands, perhaps even tens of thousands reverberated even through the vast Temple blast doors and stone walls. Even with their Force perceptions to the outside galaxy dimmed, none of the Jedi could doubt what was the cause of this...
"Jedi! This is CT-0000/1010 addressing you," The familiar voice of a Clone Trooper, of the bounty hunter Jango Fett, called out them from outside, his voice betraying no conflict or hesitation. "By order of the Supreme Commander of the High Army of the Republic, Chancellor Palpatine, you have been judged guilty of high treason, conspiracy and attempted murder of the Chancellor himself. Lay down your weapons, and you may avoid further death."
The assembled Knights and Masters stood in silence, letting the words sink in. A moment later, Kit Fisto couldn't help but laugh. Even with Mace's death, the fall of the Republic and the Jedi Order hours away, the fact that lying viper was still trying to play the kindly, reasonable authority figure was too absurd not to laugh at. Just another Jedi trap: if they accepted, Palpatine would ensure no one left the Temple alive, they would fabricate some show of force or resistance to justify pacification. Leaving them only to fight, working in his favor again. What enhanced the grim hilarity of the situation was the inevitable farce the next meeting of the Senate would be. The most heartbreaking piece of black comedy in a decade full of them.
Many of the nearby Jedi looked at him in shock, some in barely concealed disdain at his behavior. Master Drallig did neither, surprisingly enough. Instead, the Jedi Battlemaster trained by Master Yoda himself and who'd gone on to pass his wisdom and knowledge of all martial Jedi arts and beyond to well over a dozen generations simply smiled sadly. Kit instantly knew he'd grasped the situation as well. Kit sobered up quickly, however. His brief spasm of humor serving, as it always did, as a means of venting the dark thoughts and feeling from in and outside himself into the Force. An unorthodox approach to many and certainly never... Showcased as bluntly as just then but with the end approaching, it would not matter much.
"We'll hold them back, Shaak Ti," Kit said to her even as the marching outside steadily came to a halt. "Save as many as you can, we'll handle the rest."
"... Understood, Kit. May the Force be with you."
"You as well," Putting the projector away, Kit stared at the blast doors which would no doubt be brought down sooner or later. "Been a while since we've fought together, hasn't it, Master Drallig?"
"Indeed it has," The older Jedi said in a tone one would find more appropriate for a casual meetup in the hallways. "I'm quite curious to see how you've grown in that regard, young Kit."
"There'll be no shortage of demonstration from us all."
And so, the Jedi scattered throughout the main hall into pairs or groups of three, using the vast pillars inside and their own familiarity with the surroundings to their advantage. The lights inside were dimmed, they would not need them. Small security drones were dispatched around, to be sent as an initial attack force to distract the clones long enough while the real battle lied in wait. Soon enough, the pounding of blaster fire against steel and stone erupted. Booming throughout the inside of the Temple like a gargantuan gong. It came from all over, meaning they'd already dispatched aerial forces to no doubt open pathways for transport ships. Not that the higher levels mattered anymore, so long as the secret pathways leading to the escape routes at the bottom were covered, they could have the rest of the Temple. All several stories worth of it boobie trapped to hamper and destroy their advances.
The booming grew louder and louder, the sound of metal rending and sizzling nearby filled the air before at last, the main entrance was annihilated in an almost dazzling explosion of oranges and blues. Flashlights and shouts soon filled the otherwise silent hallway entrance. No doubt the other four ones were breached or soon to be. But the defenders of the main one did not bother themselves with worries for that. Nor did they let the fleeting worries and curiosities regarding the clones cloud their judgment. Their former allies wouldn't hesitate to strike them down and they couldn't afford to extend them such a courtesy. Even after three years of fighting together.
The security droids went first, their attack protocols set to the highest possible setting. The one reserved for Master-level Jedi practice. With blinding speed, the dozens of orbs descended upon the entering clones, pelting them from all sides with blast fire. Darting through hailstorms of returning shots. The Jedi waited silently, drawing on the Force perceptions beyond sight still afforded to them until the moment to strike presented itself. When it did, they did so fast and hard.
Kit and Cin Drallig were among the first to enter the fray, darting past the pillars and down steps in the darkness with the quickness of speeders, entering amidst the clone forces before any of them realized it. A great many would also die without knowing who or what cut them down. The snap-hisses of sabers were entirely drowned out by the noise of groaning or screaming troopers. The sizzling of metal and flesh. The cracking of armor and weapons.
Shii-Cho, Kit's fighting style excelled in this regard. Forming the purest possible basics of lightsaber combat, the style was raw, unpredictable yet also geared towards attacking precise strike zones on the body. Right arm, head, legs,... When taken to its highest possible level, it was possible for a Jedi to turn themselves into a wild dervish of the offensive moment, particularly effective against groups of soldiers. In spite of the clones firing with far more accuracy and greater reflexes than any Confederacy droid, they died by the scores.
Yet Kit wasn't arrogant enough to ever attribute this all to himself. For every five clones he felled, Master Drallig seemed to multiply that number by ten. From what fleeting moments he and the other Jedi defenders could see in the madness of fighting, the Troll showed himself to be one well worthy of his reputation. One moment, he would practically fly across the sky like Master Yoda before grounding himself and swatting aside hails of blaster fire with an ease Kenobi would've been impressed by. His punches and kicks were strong. His blade wild but precise. His Force pushes far-reaching and powerful.
The other Knights and Masters descended into the fray, crashing against the incoming stream of enemy forces far outnumbering them. Kit was instantly reminded of Geonosis from years ago. Whoever else in this group to survive that particular encounter no doubt thought the same. Among other things concerning the arena. But there was nothing left for words, or worries or fears. Each and every Jedi there from the youngest to oldest simply drew themselves into the Force. Letting it guide them perhaps in ways they'd never felt so profoundly before.
When they struck, dodged, fleed, taunted or lured, it was all by the designs of a power far beyond them but one they were happy to serve. This feeling did not diminish, not even as the fighting dragged on for minutes then hours, even as their numbers began to diminish and more and more portions of the entrance hall were demolished or sacrificed to hold back the enemy. The calls of other Jedi, reporting in more break-in throughout the Temple, cries of fear or even anger went un-answered. There was only the here and now.
An explosion to his side, taking the lives of three Security Force Jedi nearly sent Kit stumbling to the ground were it not for Master Drallig pressing his back against Kit's, steadying him. Without a word, they took a tried and true formation of the Order when faced by countless blaster wielders: back to back defense. Covering each other this way, the two Masters were able to draw more and more enemy fire toward themselves while the younger Knights, those who could and should still escape fled into the deeper parts of the Temple. Once they were away, the various passageways leading into the center of the base level burst into fire from explosive rounds, burying their retreat behind hundreds of tones of ancient stone and rubble.
The fact it left Kit and Cin Drallig trapped there with nearing hundreds of clones and many, many more still waiting outside was irrelevant. The two Jedi shared the telepathic approximation of acknowledging nods and together, unleashed a telekinetic blast of such force, the various clones were hurtled through the sky like insects against a wind storm. It also blasted the accumulated smoke of grenade and other explosive detonations in all directions, clouding the enemy's lines of sight. The two of them wasted no time in darting in, carving a bloody swath through clone after clone. Even procuring discarded lightsabers from their fallen brothers and sisters.
There was nothing the two didn't resort to in this final stand. Stabs and slashes through any point in the body. Punches, kicks, elbow strikes of bone-crunching, meat grinding kinetic power. Applications of the Force as obscene as flinging massive stones or as subtle as momentary mind tricks to buy just a precious moment longer. So all-consuming was this immersion in the Force that Kit did not even notice the myriad of scorching injuries he'd acquired throughout the night until a series of rocket explosions to his immediate right consumed Master Drallig in fire and propelled Kit across the room.
Something inside crunched when his back struck against a thick, stone pillar, his entire body going numb and lightsabers lost to him in the detonation. Any attempt to get back up left him crashing back onto the ground, blood gushing out in loud coughs. But he didn't focus on these material sensations or even a teacher's death which he embraced with a calm, ease. Instead, Kit Fisto noticed the sun shining outside, through the crack in the roof. Its warmth was very, very soothing.
Dimly, he could sense more clones approaching his location, slowly and with much more apprehension than one dead man deserved. But Kit didn't mind, it let him enjoy the rays for what felt like a long, relaxing time. It also gave him the time to do one more thing.
"Is he dead?" A clone asked, blaster rifle trained for Kit's head, his companions halting their assault and staring in the Jedi's direction.
"... No, he's not..." The one most at the forefront said, a tone of frustration cutting through usual clone professionalism. "But I'm fixing that."
Kit's only response was to laugh, letting the sound carry through the usually silent room and shock the clones freezing in-place. Though, the effect might have been enhanced by his entirely bloody teeth. It didn't matter, their hesitation bought him enough time to reach out through the Force one last time, activating several carefully placed demolition charges or frag grenades amongst the troopers. Before the fire even reached them, him and swallowed the entire entrance hall, Kit already passed away peacefully into the Force.
