CHAPTER 17

Fraying Ties

"Agonize alone in the cold again
I loved more than I could hold
Cauterize, this soul can't be pure again
It hurt more than I could show."

ISD Valkyrie, 14 BBY

Above Ord Cestus

The stench of the man pacing along her loading ramp was palpable, perhaps overwhelming if it weren't for Vorchenko's obligation to speak with another colleague regarding the whereabouts of the "Jedi fugitive" Xur Eon. Admiral Slovis was an overweight slime who found that excuses and demeaning insults made him powerful, while the only real power he possessed was the potency of his gastral discharges. He was the living, breathing, Exhibit A of everything wrong with the Imperial Navy in her eyes, and despite his obvious ineptitude, he was deviously adept at maintaining his position.

Nevertheless, Vorchenko practiced respect, even to those who did not deserve it. "Admiral Slovis, welcome aboard the Valkyrie," she tipped her head. "I hope your travels were kind."

The bearded man snorted, his hands behind his back as he paid her no mind, passing her by to take the lead position on her own bridge. As far as naval etiquette, to do so was a symbol of disrespect for the current ship's captain, an assumption of his own leadership.

"Your flattery is noted, Vice Admiral," he grumbled. "But I am here to get your investigation back on schedule."

Vorchenko seethed behind his back but suppressed her distaste. "If you are referring to my search for Xur Eon, you have delayed it, not expediated it."

Slovis still did not regard her. "This is no longer your operation. I have been ordered by Lord Vader himself to take command, and you have information I need to begin."

He wore that approval like an armored suit, protecting him from incoming fire he knew would result from it. She'd seen it before, and she'd dismantled it with ease.

"If you have come to commandeer my vessel, I assure you, you will find this task quite foolhardy," she warned, and the death troopers positioned at the far ends of her bridge shifted.

"Do not presume to threaten me, Azurian skank," he spat, finally looking her way. "If I so desired, I could have you dancing round a pole in my quarters," he sneered, approaching her. "Your clothes would not be permitted, of course."

Vorchenko's eyes panned down to him with her superior height, giving him nothing but a stoic expression. Slovis looked up to her and reached towards her breasts. "It would only take one-."

Her fist crashed into the side of his jaw, drawing spit from his mouth as his head jerked around, before landing with a crash on her bridge pathway. He groaned and wheezed from her strike, holding his mouth as he rolled over. Vorchenko merely looked down, wiping her gloves clean with a handkerchief she kept handy on her belt.

"Foolish man you are to come aboard my ship with such threats, and no drones to assist you," she shrugged, watching him pick himself up. "And I am Admiral, as I am sure you are aware, and will now ask you to leave this vessel immediately."

Slovis grunted, still holding his face. "You bitch! I'll have you facing a firing squad in due time-."

Vorchenko raised her hand, and soon the clicking of blasters sounded from her twin death troopers, who had revealed themselves to him at the front of the bridge. "I am asking you to disembark. Which language would you prefer?"

He straightened himself out, obviously trying to instill his confidence in the light of her frightening troopers preparing to gun him down. "Always hiding behind someone…whether it be Tarkin or these…brutes…" he spat. "You spit on our name. The great Imperial Navy should be ashamed that you wear our colors."

Vorchenko merely closed her fist, and the blasters charged, eliciting a small shrill of terror from him.

"As much as I would like to see his brains splattered, I have to insist otherwise."

She turned towards the new voice, and now walking across her bridge was the stunning image of the Third Sister, her sinister grin plenty to give even Vorchenko pause. Her hair was slightly longer than she remembered it, but that may be the case because Effa Azulia was not bearing her mask.

"Rumor was you perished, Third Sister," Vorchenko greeted, giving her men the signal to stand down. "Glad to see that was not the case."

Effa smiled, fists on her hips. "You were always such a lady, Admiral. You should take some tips from her, Slovis. Maybe then our relationship would be better off."

"I could care less about my relationship with a mystic whore," he growled.

The inquisitor maintained her gaze on him, her smile widening as her yellow eyes bore into his soul. "I believe it is time for you to leave, Admiral."

Vorchenko nodded in agreement, signaling one of her death troopers to comply. "Kuquxe poki iznzi," she ordered in echani.

"Nio nokorokeu'k," one nodded, pressing forward to escort the Admiral out at gunpoint, to which he complied, finally leaving just Effa and Vorchenko to themselves.

"Sorry about him," Effa apologized. "He's never had respect for us ladies."

"By the time he does, I'm sure it will be too late. What can I do for you, Inquisitor?" Vorchenko asked, her hands falling behind her back as she returned her attention to the viewport, prompting Effa to step up beside her.

"Unfortunately, Slovis was telling the truth. Vader has assigned me to him so we can track down our favorite little zabrak," Effa explained, and then whispered needlessly. "I would totally choose you, but well, honestly…"

Vorchenko suppressed an eyeroll. "What?"

Effa cleared her throat, pulling at her under suit that crept up her neck. "Well…you see, Lord Vader doesn't really…trust you?"

Her eyes narrowed. This was a threat, disguised by Effa's masterful ability to appear innocent, but not masterful enough to get past her sight. The Inquisitor was a loyal dog whose former relationship with Anakin Skywalker dictated how she pressed her interests forward, and it was almost a pity she was still a slave to her lusts and desires.

Not something Vorchenko had time to concern herself with.

"Lord Vader and I have never seen eye to eye," she admitted. "You are not telling me something I did not already know."

Effa smirked. "Then it seems you are already aware of your…situation."

Vorchenko did not grace Effa with her gaze, and merely exhaled through her nose. It was at a time like this where she wished she still had Suduri aboard her ship. "Will that be all, Inquisitor?"

The Third Sister curtsied, before turning down the command walkway. "See you around, Admiral."

Yes…thank you for drawing the battle lines for me, Azulia.

Vorchenko turned to her deck officer once all visitors had finally disembarked from her ship. "Captain, let us continue on our route."

"Yes, Admiral."

Time was running out.


Vandor, 14 BBY

The Lodge

After all of that…all we've done…why?!

There's still a chance for you to make the right choice. You can join me. Together, we are more powerful than the Chancellor!

And then what? Rule the galaxy?! Fuck that, murderer.

Last chance. Join with me or become my enemy.

That's easy. I've known the Dark Side far longer than you ever will. You're going to pay for all the Jedi you've slaughtered!

Know this…after I kill you, you know who'll be next. Even if you survive this day, I swear to you, you will never see her again!

Touch her, and I'll kill you!

Maybe she'll have the sense to join me…or not.

I hate you…SKYWALKER!

Xur jolted awake, his eyes greeted to the darkness of their current overnight lodging. He felt someone in his arms, and quickly recognized it as Trilla, sleeping peacefully beside him. Shaking off his dream, he clenched her a little tighter, feeling the security of her safely with him again.

Every night was another nightmare or traumatic reverie, and they were making it difficult for him to ever get some sleep. That last one was…something he never wished to revisit…a time of nothing but horrific loss, and unbridled rage. After that day, everyone he ever cared about was gone, and he himself was nothing but a shattered, broken shell.

The day Order 66 was issued.

Tears found their way through his eyelids, just like every night, and he buried his face into her hair, kissing the back of her head, desperately holding on to her. She was all he had left, and he could never let her go again.

Trilla stirred…and screamed as she awoke.

"Hey! Hey!" Xur eased, pulling her close, rocking her body with his lips at her ear. "It's okay…it's okay…you're safe."

She was hyperventilating, but once her senses fully returned, she grasped ahold of his arm and breathed slowly. Despite his presence, she still shook with fear, struggling to look past another nightmare.

"Shhhh…" he eased. "You're safe. Don't worry, I get them too."

Trilla trembled, trying not to cry. "I…I was…so helpless."

"Not anymore you're not," Xur urged, squeezing her shoulder. "You're stronger now than you ever were. No one will ever touch you again."

The zabrak sensed her take his words to heart, and with a nudge, she turned over so she could look him in the eye. "Tell me something."

"Anything."

She swallowed, her eyes panning downwards as she sniffled, wiping away her tears. "All that time…how did you not kill me?"

Xur was taken aback. "What?"

"When you were…posing…" she explained. "After all you saw me do…how could you stand by and let me do it? Why didn't you just kill me?"

"Trilla, that's a question you already know the answer to."

"But how did you know?" she pressed, her expression longing for the answer. "I could've killed you without ever knowing, and I wanted to…and you had to know that."
"Of course, but-."

"How?" she asked, holding his face. "How did you know we would get to here?"

Xur didn't want to go down this route, as it was living in the past. For both of them, the past contained nothing but pain and suffering, and with the joy they had experienced over the past few days together, he did not want to ruin it…but he could sense that Trilla needed to know. It was a matter of trust for them both, something that still required growth.

He sighed. "I didn't."

Her eyes shut, and more tears leaked out. "You risked everything for me, and I will be forever grateful…but I'm not worthy of your faith."

The zabrak grasped her hand. "Don't you ever say something like that again," he almost growled, which gave way to his own emotional breakout. "You're worth everything I ever gave, and I regret nothing. I'd do it all again, exactly as I did it. I'd pull you out of that shuttle as it fell from the sky. I'd smash that man's skull who dared to put his hands on you. I'd challenge you at every step just so you could find yourself again. If people have to die for us to get there, then so be it."

"Why?" she asked, crying. "What did I do to ever deserve it? All I've done is hurt you."

"No," he denied. "All you've done is inspire me onwards. I'd cross the galaxy for you."

"But why?"

"Because I failed you once!" he shout-whispered, trying not to draw attention from those outside their room. "I let you go just once, and you suffered horrors you should've never been exposed to. The Second Sister was a living, breathing embodiment of my ultimate failure, and I swore to myself that I'd give everything up just to give you another chance."

Her eyes shut, and she shuddered. Watching her cry tore him to pieces, and he kissed her forehead, squeezed her for comfort…anything to make her feel better.

"Thank you…" she finally said. "I promise you…I will offer that same faith in return."

He smiled, running his fingers through her hair. "That's all I'll ever need."

They kissed, and he could feel Trilla's resolve solidify in the Force.


Trilla's head felt like a twelve-inch spike had been hammered through it, and she had spent the morning drinking copious amounts of water, as well as whatever bubbly substance Lando had lying around. Whether that helped clear her pains or not remained to be seen, but she was well enough to stand aside in Lando's living room, listening as he and Xur sat across from each other.

"Thought they really got you this time," Lando admitted, sitting back comfortably. "It was a damn shame, especially with those jobs we pulled. Let me just say that finding help as good as you…not possible."

Xur shrugged. "Well…I'm back."

"Yeah, well," Lando tipped his head. "I've got a feeling you didn't come all this way to tell me we're ripping off the Haxion Brood again."

Trilla's eyes narrowed to herself as she twisted her glass, listening to the ice chime against its edges. Hearing that Xur used to pull smuggling jobs made a lot of sense, as the Empire had never been good with nailing the good ones.

"What makes you think that?" Xur asked, leaning forward, simply a probing question.

Lando shrugged. "Judging by the fact that you're hanging out with Imperial Inquisitors now, looks like you're going for bigger game."

Trilla cleared her throat. "Knew it. Cunning bastard."

Lando gave her a bright smile. "Haven't lived this long by being stupid, love."

"Alright, watch the flirting," Xur warned, and Trilla could sense his sparking jealousy, to which she suppressed a giggle. "Yeah, you're right, she used to be an Inquisitor, but not anymore."

"Did you put in your two weeks?" Lando asked, pointing to her. "Is that even a thing in the Empire?"

Trilla shrugged as she took another sip. "No, of course not. Not even sure they know I've broken out."

"Might want to check up on that. Those Imperials…stingy, stingy."

She knew better than to expect the Emperor not to be aware. With the power and vision she had felt from him, it was at least only a matter of time until he'd know she'd turned on him.

Then again…how has he stayed quiet thus far? The Empire never took kindly to traitors, but inquisitors breaking away had to be unprecedented. Although, they'd truthfully treat her like just another Jedi fugitive, and she didn't know how long they could stay out of their sight. Perhaps she'd have to take a play from Kestis' book…engage out in the open using guerilla tactics. It had worked for a bit…but she'd tracked him down eventually, and if it wasn't for Xur's intervention…

In that moment, she realized their greatest strength was the fact that she knew how the Empire hunted for Jedi, and she certainly knew ways to counter it.

"So tell me Eon, what do you need from me?" Lando asked.

"You still owe me for the Tibrin thing," Xur reminded him, and Trilla noticed Lando's shift in his seat. "I need your help finding Saw."

Trilla scoffed. "Saw Gerrera? He's on Kashyyyk. Everyone knows that."

"Good to hear that's what your Imperials think," Lando smirked, and Trilla's eyes narrowed while his attention returned to Xur. "Look, that kind of information is not to be messed with, Eon. We can't have the Empire knowing how we operate, and…sorry, hun," he apologized to her. "…but I can't be spreading that around without good reason. He doesn't want anyone coming in contact, not unless its big."

"This is big," Xur nodded, his eyes wandering to her for a moment, before locking onto Lando. "We're going to hit the Fortress. I'm calling it in."

"What?" Trilla gasped. "Are you insane? That's a suicide mission."

Lando nodded quickly. "Yeah…I'm with her on that one. We talking Inquisitorious? The one rumored to be the place where all Jedi go to die?"

"Look, just hear me out," he eased, flashing looks to the both of them. "We've got the intel. I know how it works, and the faster we take it out-."

"We can't," Trilla insisted, almost furious with his own madness. "We can't go back there!"

"We have to! The longer that place exists, the more Jedi become inquisitors, and we need to destroy it while we have a chance."

Trilla frivolously shook her head, slamming her glass on the bar beside her. "I'm not…I'm never setting foot in that place again."

"Trilla, if we don't, we'll never be safe."

"There is no safety you dumb cunt!" she spat, clenching her fists, baring that same hatred-filled expression she had shown him before. Through her eyes, she saw that same man who had pretended to be by her side, ravaged with guilt, continuously fulfilling a pathetic, self-righteous obligation that she didn't deserve. His own selfish desires allowed her to continue on her dark path, instead of straying her away from it.

She wanted to hate him again…she wanted to hate him for even considering taking her back to that place.

And then he dared to rise to his feet, approaching her with arms raised. "Trilla…I…"

"Stay…away from me," she pointed, and stormed off, leaving him unsure as to what had suddenly made her snap. All he could do was sigh to himself and pinch his nose in regret, while Lando watched it all unfold.

"Sounds to me like you two have some issues to-."

"Lando, just…don't," he cut him off, returning his attention and trying to shake off what had just occurred. "Look, are you going to help me or not?"

The smuggler looked at him with the face of concern, but eventually submitted to his request. "I like you…crazy bastard that you are. I just…like myself more…so I can't help you with your little suicide mission," he admitted.

Xur grumbled. "Fine."

Lando readjusted his suit and rose to his feet. "I'll try to get you in touch with Saw anyhow," he offered, and Xur gave him a nod in gratitude. "I'm sure he'll be glad to see you anyway."

"Here's hoping."

Before Lando left him alone through the door, he turned back. "As for the lady, give her some time to cool off. She'll be alright."

"Yeah? How do you know that?"

He smirked. "You kidding me? That girl is freakishly in love with you."

That gave Xur no comfort, and when Lando left him alone, he sunk back into his chair. Love had been what destroyed her…and with her current mental state…he knew it would only take one mistake to destroy her again.


Dathomir, 14 BBY

Tomb of Kujet

Cal stepped through them again…the webs that matted this place. The Tomb of Kujet was a conduit of the Dark Side, and he could feel his light being sapped away with each step he took. Merrin followed behind on her own accord, but her unease was still present.

He was so close now. He couldn't stop, not when the Astrium was on the other side of the tomb door before him. Ascending the stone steps, he took a chance to observe the circular markings etched in red, and he could feel that same call when approaching an object with a distinct echo in the Force. This one held a power he had never felt before, and his strength enhanced as he approached, drawing out his hand.

"Wait," Merrin grasped his other hand, stopping him from brushing his fingertips against the door. "You shouldn't touch this…it's not safe, Cal."

"It's fine, Merrin," he assured. "I can handle it."

This time, she yanked him away, forcing him to look into her eyes. "Listen to me…none of my sisters who ever walked this place returned the same. This place…it curses you, and I don't want it to take someone else away."

Cal heard her words, and in her eyes, he saw her sincerity. She cared about his fate, maybe as far as to say that she didn't want him to die. To see that in her expression, he felt that mutually with her, as he may have done the same if he were in her position.

But he had killed an inquisitor. The time to be afraid was over.

"I have to," he insisted, trying his best to instill his same confidence into her. "This could be the only chance to restore the Jedi Order."

She still didn't look convinced, so he grasped her hands tighter. "Merrin…I need you to trust me."

Merrin didn't have any words for him. Instead, her eyes were locked on his hands, feeling the tightness of his grip. Cal sensed her confusion, as well as her understanding, but he was only acting on what he thought was best. Why she expected him to do what he did was beyond him.

Then her eyes met his again, and it was that stern look he remembered. "When this goes wrong, I will be there to say I told you so."

Cal wasn't intimidated…in fact he chuckled at that. "Fair enough."

She smiled back to him, letting his hands free and standing aside, her arms crossed. "Well then, Cal, face your darkness."

He nodded, and fighting back to that initial resolve, he stepped forward and let his hand rest on the door.

At first, there was nothing, only the cold stone against his skin, and then he felt invincible. Raw power surged into him, granting him endless vision, endless prowess, until he felt he could be no greater. The galaxy was at his fingertips, and he pressed his hand against the stone, trying to sap as much power as he could.

And just like that, it was gone.

Confused, Cal turned, but now saw that Merrin was gone, and the room was shrouded in a deep blue fog, blotting out all light from the outside. He paced around, looking for any sign of her, but found nothing…sensed nothing.

Footsteps sounded from the fog.

Cal watched in horror as his dead master, Jaro Tapal emerged, his saber hilt in hand with that same determined look the lasat had always bore.

"Padawan," he almost spat, his voice harsh. "It is time for instruction," he declared, before igniting his blue blade.

Cal felt the instinctual reaction to his master's declaration, and without much thought, his master's blade was ignited in his own hand. Tapal advanced slowly, swinging at Cal's guard as he moved to defend himself, fighting off the Jedi Master's strength.

"Your will is weak," Tapal growled. "You lack discipline."

His criticism only fueled Cal's desire for power, wanting to feel that invincibility again, the galaxy in his grip. No inquisitor would ever stand tall against him again, and the Empire would fall, burning as he walked across it. The Jedi let his master feel that power, slamming into his blade with a fierce tenacity that he had never felt before.

"Do you feel this power, Padawan?" he asked, batting Cal away with a powerful swing. "You could not even resist when you felt it, did you? Where is your true strength?!"

Cal roared and thrusted his blade forward, but Tapal made no move to defend himself, and he watched in horror as he plunged his saber into his master's chest.

"Yes," Tapal sneered. "My blood is on your hands, Apprentice!"

Light flashed, and Cal momentarily saw himself clad in black and red armor, his saber adopting a red hue and terrifying hum, before Tapal grabbed ahold of his blade.

"You are a failure, a weakling," he continued, while Cal desperately tried to pull his saber free, only to see his inquisitor garbs fully actualize, and his hatred intensify. "A traitor!"

He suddenly saw it all again, his clone troops turning on him, chasing him across his own ship. He saw he and Tapal at the escape pod, and how his own men riddled his master with blaster bolts, and only through desperation did they escape, but not in time to save his master. Then, he saw his failure, and now, with his own red blade through the heart of the man who raised him, it was complete.

"You are no Jedi!"

"NO!" Cal screamed, and his vision returned to the tomb door, him holding his blade in that same position as he stood aimlessly. Sparks burned his hand as he looked down, and he saw that his grip had crushed the blade…shattering the kyber crystal inside.

His master's saber was destroyed.

Cal trembled. "M-Merrin?" he asked, turning…only to see that she was gone. "Merrin?!"

An electric web shot through the air and enveloped him completely, leaving him to spasm on the ground until his vision faded to black.


Vandor, 14 BBY

The Lodge

Xur had given her a few hours to be alone, but eventually he couldn't stand the divide he and Trilla were split between. So, with a breath of confidence, and a brace for the abrasive welcome he expected, he leaned up against the door and knocked.

"Trilla…can I come in?" he asked.

There was no response, but he could sense her presence still inside…followed by an unsettling noise of something falling to the ground. Concerned, he forced the door open, and was greeted to the sight of Trilla swaying on the floor, trying her hardest to keep herself up, only to keep going too far to one side and be forced to stop herself.

"Cal Kestissssss," she sneered, her speech slurred beyond belief, looking as if her common perception was all but destroyed. "Found you…at last."

"Ah…fuck," Xur groaned, seeing the bottle of liquor still in her hand.

"Oh yes, curse all you…" a hiccup interrupted her sermon. "…all you wish, Padawan."

Xur knelt, pulling her head to look him in the eye. "Hey, it's me," he said, waving his hand in front of her face to draw her attention. She only giggled, waving her own hand in his face. "Ope…okay."

Trilla raised the bottle. "Wait a minute…you don't look like…the Padawan."

Xur pulled it from her grip before she could take another drink. "Trilla, just…give me that, please," he urged, and as much as she fought him, her grip was very weak. Looking at the half-empty bottle in shock, he set it down as far from her as he could. "You drank all of that?"

"Yuuup," she answered, smacking her lips together on the "p". "It tried to flee from me, but I said, 'Going somewhere?'," she imitated her own sinister voice. "I named him Cal Kestis."

"I know, Trilla," Xur groaned. "Look, we need to get you out of here. Preferably away from any more alcohol, hun."

She narrowed her eyes, trying to make out his face. "Weren't we…fighting about something? I…I can't even remember."

Xur's eyes paced away. "Uhhh…no?"

Her hazed eyes scanned him, before she giggled again, wrapping him in her arms. "My little Jedi…you're so…ugh," she pushed up against him. "You're so firm."

"Trilla…" he chuckled, trying to ease her off of him. "You're drunk."

"No…you're drunk," she pouted, refusing to let him go. "And sexy. By the Force…I need you ins-."

"Trilla!" he shouted, forcing her off him with a shove, frustrated. "What the hell is wrong with you?! Why the fuck would you do this to yourself?!"

She looked at him with a stunned gaze as she remained in his fierce grip, and then he saw her gurgle. Moving quickly, he grasped the durasteel mass-produced trash bin beside him and put it beneath her as she vomited profusely, leaving him to simply rub her back as she let it out, doing his best to keep her hair back. Grimacing to himself, he knew he should've never yelled at her…but there was nothing he could do about it now.

While she spat out the remains, and then went into another bout, he patted her back in comfort. "I'm sorry, Trilla…I should've talked to you about that before bringing it up. We only just got together after all…and it's my fault for trying to rush you back so quickly."

Her vomiting seemed to end soon after, and after the final purge of the vile taste, she sobbed. Xur had no hesitation pulling her close, letting her tears soak his garments.

"I'm…I'm broken, Xur…" she admitted. "I don't even know who I am anymore."

He sighed, resting his chin on her head as he rocked her back and forth. "I know who you are."

Trilla looked up, her eyes soaked, and makeup ruined.

"You're Trilla Suduri," he answered. "You were once a Jedi, and even once an Inquisitor…but now…you're something more."

"More?" she questioned. "I'm spending my days either crying or shivering in fear, asking the galaxy what my purpose is, and all I hear is silence."

Trilla shivered in his arms, burying her head in his chest again.

"Good."

She almost scoffed in her tarnished state. "Good?"

"Silence is golden, Trilla," he answered. "That means it's up to you. If you spend your life expecting some higher power to tell you who you are, you'll be standing in one place until you wither away."

She sniffled.

"You didn't get here just by following some plan," he explained. "You broke off; forged your own destiny…now you just have to write the story."

"You don't get it…" she whimpered. "Every night it's a new voice…whispers in my soul, fingers at my spine…the consistent breathing…his laugh…"

It broke his heart, simply because he had no idea how to make it better. Her mind was constantly tormented by those who had harmed her…who had broken her, and in her mind, they were always there, always watching…laughing at her attempts at freedom. All he could do was be there for her, every time, everywhere, and he knew, one day she might just break away.

"You don't have to face them alone," he promised. "Not anymore. I'll always be there for you. Next time you face these things, know that you're not alone…you never were."

Trilla gripped him tightly, her tears fading as she took deep breaths of calm. He took his chance to wipe her face clean and pull her hair back. "You see them again, you give them hell," he encouraged. "Show them what you've become and make them regret ever thinking they could control you."

Her eyes shut, and with a deep inhale and heavy exhale, she opened again, and he saw that same fierce expression that had defined her.

He smirked. "That's my g-."

An object flew through the window and exploded, blinding their senses with a harsh flashbang, and before either of them could react, they were caught in an electric web, both screaming in pain until they blacked out.

Through the window clambered an armored bounty hunter, slinging the web caster over his back as he looked down upon his catch. "Heh. Twats never saw it coming."

It was time to put on a show.


Little shorter this time, but next chapter is going to be a big one! The light at the end of the tunnel is approaching…

Next chapter:

"Hey, I recognize this band…"