A/N: I don't own it. nope.
CHAPTER 3
"So, uh...why exactly are you looking for this...Star Map?" The old man asked. Revan turned slowly, but gave no answer. He lifted up his mask, clasping it back on. He walked right past Jolee, and Malak soon followed.
"I'm—" Malak started, but Revan turned sharply.
"Let's go," Revan commanded.
"Master...May I ask you...something?" Malak cautiously asked his master.
"What!?"
"When...did you decide to wear the...full-body cloak and mask?"
"When we fell to the darkside, fool."
"But I haven't—"
"Who was it that said we were far from Jedi, Malak? I believe it was you."
"Next time, speak for yourself," Revan's face was hidden behind the mask, but Malak could tell his lip was curled in a mild snarl after his words. "...master."
"Next time, Malak. Next time."
With that, Revan stalked up to the frightened Wookiee who operated the lift. Malak joined his master on the platform, and soon the crate was creaking its way up through the thick Woshyyr branches.
It came to a halt, and Revan walked quickly, (Too quick, Malak thought,) and he had trouble keeping up with him. They came to the 4-passenger mini-ship that had flew off the warship.
Within a few minutes, Revan and Malak were traveling towards their ship. It took five minutes to dock in one of the hangars, and they got out.
Revan walked down the ramp, and the few republic soldiers that were there stared in awe. Revan waved his hand, and they soon dispersed in fear.
"Quite useful, hmm?" Malak chuckled a little, and Revan grunted back, still walking towards the bridge. His boots clanked on the metal, and Malak thought of a horror movie.
The black cloak, hood, and mask fit well enough...
"Go to the bar, I want a drink. Bring it to the bridge," Revan said randomly, pushing Malak to the side towards a colorful door.
"Of course, master."
Malak walked in, and the only people that were there was a couple of drunk youths and a man that looked about 30. He had brown hair, and two pieces of it stuck out. Malak smirked.
"Hello," he said quickly, before heading towards the door. The man obviously was thinking about something, because he gave a mumbled reply.
Soon, Revan was sitting on a comfortable chair, sipping a nice drink called a Mon-Samba (don't ask!), which meant carbon-wine in Twi'lek. It was pretty much an alcoholic grape juice with fizz. One of Revan's favorites.
As always, Malak got to watch.