MEMORIES I
Bo Katan Kryze
It was the loudest thing she had ever heard.
The flames continued to rise below her, and Bo Katan's short arms were beginning to shake with exhaustion. She felt her eyes bulge as she dared to look down, a tarnished transport ship burning away, its searing heat licking up at her boots. The girl tried to pull herself up, but she was too weak…too badly hurt by the impact that had knocked her off the balcony she had been playing on.
She screamed for help…for anyone to save her…but all the noise, all the destruction drowned her out, and her bleeding arms were starting to give. Again, she tried pulling herself up, desperately clinging to the ledge, only to slip further, and her tears poured down her face.
They gave…and she fell.
Into armored arms.
Bo Katan looked up to see a man with his face covered by a helmet design she thought she would never see again, cradling her in his arms as they flew into the sky…away from the fire…away from her death.
"You're safe now," the man said, just as he landed at the foot of the palace, setting Bo down on her feet. He knelt in front of her, seemingly observing her face. "Not too bad. A few cuts and bruises…you should be alright."
She trembled, her tiny voice almost a whisper. "Who are you?"
Bo could not tell if he was smiling, but as he rose to his feet and reactivated his jetpack, she had to guess that he was.
"A friend."
Years Later…
The medical droid was a little too thorough for her liking, utilizing its appendages to slather her bruises in more bacta slime than was really necessary. She imagined her street opponent would need it far more than she did, in all honesty, and her bruised knuckles were a perfect indication of that. Honestly, she almost wished she could just keep the bruises, left as one of the most satisfying reminders of a moment of strength she had exercised…and that all those sparring practices hadn't gone to waste.
"This is becoming a routine I'm not particularly fond of," her sister chastised her from where she stood, her arms crossed and scowl evident. "Why can't you merely walk around Sundari without entertaining hooligans?"
Bo Katan wiped her lips with the back of her hand. "They called you a spineless toad, Satine. I decided I didn't like that."
Her sister huffed; the same regal huff that made her teeth grind with annoyance. "People call me all sorts of things, Bo. It comes with being the Duchess."
"That doesn't mean you should ignore it," she countered, wincing as the droid poked at her cheek. "If you won't even defend yourself, then who will?"
Satine sighed with contempt. "Still, you miss the point."
Bo's teeth ground evermore, starting to feel as if they would break if she applied anymore pressure. Satine always lashed out with snide contempt when Bo merely tried to reason with her. It was truly difficult to understand why she was confused so many Mandalorians wanted her head on a spike. She was weak-willed, ill-prepared, utterly disrespectful and never bothered to try to understand why Bo Katan returned to the palace with battle scars over her body. There was never a shortage of citizens waiting to get a piece of the red-haired sister of Duchess Satine, seemingly as some sort of desperate attempt to make her pay for crimes Bo already thought she was guilty of. Instead, she was left as the scapegoat, the only one willing to stand up to people who slandered her family, while Satine remained within the palace, hiding behind her guards and preaching about pacifism.
All of it made her want to vomit. It was disgusting.
"If you just did not acknowledge them, there would be no need for violence…and you should always leave with an escort. I do not understand why—"
"I don't need someone to protect me!" Bo Katan lashed out, pushing the droid away. "If you hadn't exiled all of our warriors, no one would be trying to maul me in the streets in the first place!"
"That is not true!" Satine protested, meeting her with equal fervor. "Showing aggression invites aggression, Bo. How can you not see that?"
"Better to antagonize and be able to defend yourself than be at the mercy of your enemy's bloodlust."
Satine clenched her own fist, but in a moment of realization, she pulled back, shutting her eyes and taking a breath. "We are not having this discussion again. You will remain here until you are healed, and from now on, you are no longer permitted to leave without an escort."
"I'll do as I please, Satine," Bo Katan bit back, her anger rising ever further. "Your guards couldn't save me when I was a girl. They won't make a difference now."
"My decision is final, Bo," she turned with a sideways glance, beginning to stroll out of the room. "And your obsession with this supposed savior ends now."
Bo Katan felt something within her explode.
"Supposed?!" she screamed, rising from her seat. "He saved me!"
"If he was wearing that armor, then he likely was the very person who had blown that craft in the first place!" Satine met her anger, turning back to face her. "And you were likely delirious…imagining things."
Imagining things?!
In a spout of uncontrollable rage, she reached out and grasped her elegant clothing, pinning her against the wall with rabid eyes. Satine looked back to her with such fear that Bo almost drank in it; every time she'd ever looked down upon her coming back to repay the gesture.
"I…hate you, Satine," Bo Katan growled.
Guards burst in quickly, pulling Bo free of her sister as she fought back, but her wounds were worse than she imagined.
"Don't hurt her!" Satine pleaded, just as the guards managed to restrain her.
It only made Bo chuckle to herself, a madness to it. "Look at you…I just tried to hurt you, and all you're worried about is me."
Satine swallowed.
"You're pathetic," Bo Katan spat, the guards tightening their grip around her arms, and finally her words broke through her sister…watching that fearful expression morph into an angry scowl.
"Return her to her room," she ordered. "And don't let her leave."
Pre Vizsla was governor of the moon of Concordia, Mandalore's largest and most populated moon. A man of pristine tastes and delicate diplomacy, the cover had served him quite well under Duchess Satine Kryze's suffocating regime…but that did not mean he didn't grow tired of it. Diplomatic solutions were hardly his style…in fact they went against just about everything he had ever stood for.
In reality, Vizsla was a man of honor, the leader of Clan Vizsla and the patriotic organizer of the Death Watch…and he had grand plans for restoring the honor and tradition of the Mandalorian people. It had taken him years to keep his machinations afloat, recruiting aimless warriors with no future aside from bounty hunting and mercenary services into his fold. They were a fraction of what a true Mandalorian fighting force should be, but they would be plenty to begin the first stages of his plan.
And yet, despite all he had done, Duchess Satine was no pushover. In the eyes of many, she was invincible, protected by many powerful allies and associates, most irritatingly so among the Jedi Order. Pacifism would continue to maintain its choke hold around Mandalore until he could secure equally strong allies, or at least devise a chink in the armor that was House Kryze.
A chink he had been working with his blade for over a decade.
"Governor," one of his grey-armored guards entered his study, just as he took a sip of his tea and his eyes off his datapad. "There is someone here to see you."
Vizsla frowned, noting the darkness through his observation window. "At this hour? Tell them to return tomorrow, perhaps when I am more fit for such a conversation."
The guard didn't move, his visor hiding his eye movements while he pursed his lips. "They said they needed to see you now…and that they have nowhere else to go."
He sighed, setting his datapad aside. "I guess I could entertain them for a moment. Send them in."
Minutes later, the guard escorted in the autumn-haired woman he was never expecting so soon…a prospect that nearly had him choke on his tea.
"Princess Bo Katan," he swallowed, quickly rising to his feet, only to see her raise her hand in irritation, to which he accepted as a sign to skip the formalities. "I wasn't aware you were coming," he sat down…and then noticed the current shape her body was in, particularly her face. Riddled with bruises that looked to be knuckle impacts, her revealed skin looked botched, her hair a matted mess…and in her eyes…he saw that anger he had always hoped for.
"You told me to come to you if I ever needed help," Bo Katan reminded him, crossing her arms and bowing her head. "I don't think I've ever needed more of that in my entire life."
Pre hid his internal smile, and then turned to the guard. "Leave us, will you? And shut the door behind you. Bo Katan and I need to have a talk in private."
The guard complied, and they were quickly alone right after he shut the windows.
"Would you like some tea?" he offered. "It's quite good for your health…especially after a fist fight."
Bo Katan furrowed her brow, looking away. "I'll pass."
"Suit yourself," Pre popped his brow, taking a sip of his own. "So what brings you here, Princess?"
She didn't answer immediately, her fingers digging into her skin in their crossed form. "I hate what Mandalore has become," she admitted, seemingly uncaring of what it would imply. "I wanted to get away from my sister…and I don't want to ever see her again."
He studied her, noting her carelessness as a result of her unbridled rage towards one woman. "You are a Princess of House Kryze. That is hardly something many would want to walk away from."
Bo rolled her eyes.
Pre decided it was best to try a different approach. "Want to tell me where you got those bruises?"
She looked down at them, and then shook her head with an irritated huff. "I was walking through the city to find a quiet tree to kick when I came across a bunch of idiots threatening to behead my sister. I told them to stop, and when they didn't, I broke the largest one's nose. After that, they piled on. I was able to take a few out, but they were too many. I took a lot of hits until the guards finally scared them off."
Vizsla let one corner of his lips curl upwards into a smirk. "I'm sure they won't be bothering you again."
"Somehow I doubt that," Bo Katan scowled towards a framed painting on the wall, one of her sister. "Her own sister gets mugged, and I'm the one at fault."
"I see," he noted. "We can have those tended to."
She shook her head, giving him a sideways glance. "They'll just come back after the next mugging I have to suffer. I've been beaten up so many times I'm surprised I still have all my teeth."
"It seems like you're getting stronger from every fight, however," he said, that comment eliciting a look of confusion in her expression.
"Yeah…" she agreed. "I took your advice from last time. Improved on it a little."
She's learning.
"I suppose that's why your right wrist has an imprint around it," he gestured, making her look down at that hand. "Or did someone else hide that bag of armor behind the bushes around my estate?"
Distinct anxiety plagued her expression.
"No need to worry. I have your family's armor in a safe place and will return it to you in time…but first," he rose to his feet, approaching the slightly shorter woman. "You must answer a few questions for me."
Bo didn't seem to be catching on to what he was getting at, but she didn't try to run or attack him…which meant she had accepted the entrapment.
Perfect.
"What questions?" she tentatively asked.
He met her fiery eyes with equal fervor, instilling his true identity. "What do you seek?"
Her eyes never left his, seemingly beginning to catch on. "I…I seek retribution…a better life…one of meaning, of honor. I seek to rid myself of weakness, to restore my Clan to its proper glory…instead of further subjecting it to my sister's poisonous influence."
Vizsla smiled, letting his hand rest on her shoulder. "What if I told you there was a way to make all of that a reality?"
Her curiosity took hold, and by now, he knew that chink in the armor had been found.
"How?"
Pre turned to his nightstand, and then fished out a hidden compartment in its support. He pulled it open, and within he revealed a holocomm and a small data chip. "Put on that armor and head to these coordinates. Someone will be waiting for you."
She accepted the communicator and the chip, looking up to him with excited disposition. "Who?"
Pre stepped away, returning to his chair. "A friend."
The excitement grew, and she began to run for the door, but paused, turning back to him. "Thank you, Governor."
He inclined his head. "Thank you, Princess…"
And welcome to Death Watch.
As she left him alone to begin her task, he leaned back in his chair to take another hefty sip of tea.
Now, he could begin.