The Jedi Master flew out of the shattered window like a rocket and plummeted into the mile-deep streets below. The unconscious figure fell for what seemed like ages, his burnt and blackened robes flapping wildly about, masking his figures. All the wisdom and grace of the Jedi Order, the lore gathered over so many years, destroyed in an instant by the purest form of hatred. Not a thought crossed the peaceful mind as he fell past the many levels of Coruscant, between buildings and traffic lanes. By the greatest of hazards, or perhaps by the will of the Force itself, the would-be fatal fall was cut short by the passage of an ordinary Public Transport speeder. The body of the Jedi fell with a thump into the backseat, sending the small craft off balance and shooting at an odd angle at one of Coruscant's towering buildings. Were it not for a desperate maneuver of the pilot, the speeder would have crashed right into the façade. As he regained control of his ship, the pilot's com unit crackled to life. It was the local Public Security Center.
"PT-87, you have abandoned your trajectory and have left the authorized traffic zone. Please return to your lane immediately."
The pilot fumbled with his com and spat.
"PT-87 here, everything is fine. Sorry about the slip, I momentarily lost control. Everything's fine here. I…I'm returning to the traffic lane right now."
He shut off his com, activated the autopilot that would bring him back on trajectory, and turned around in his seat to take a look at what had hit him. His first guess would have been some piece of trash dumped from an upper level or from some ship, but what he saw took his breath away. Lying in his backseat amid his charred robes was the noble figure of a Jedi Knight, apparently dead. His face was burned yet peaceful, his right arm ended in a stump right after the elbow joint. The traditional lightsaber was not present at his belt. What the hell had happened to this guy, the pilot wondered. He had heard tales of Jedi Knights, he had even seen a few of them on Coruscant, but they had always been walking briskly along, alone or in pairs, and always wore their long cloaks and lightsabers and their belts. He had heard stories of Jedi in battle, and had always been told how strong and noble they were, wielding their lightsabers in the heat of battle like true heroes. He had never imagined that a Jedi Knight could actually be killed. Yet this one most surely seemed that way.
The pilot began wondering what he would do with the body. What would happen to him if he was found in the company of a dead Jedi Knight? He shuddered at the thought. Making up his mind, he swerved into another traffic lane that was going down vertically, heading straight for the lowest levels of the city. As he descended he felt the environment become more and more hostile. The bustling streets and bars were gradually replaced by dingy alleys and taverns, the laughing and busy crowd replaced by smugglers and backstabbers, lurking in the shadows. Even the ships suffered a change, and the gleaming starships that circled the upper levels were replaced by a dirty mismatch of smuggling freighters and modified starfighters. Light itself was a scarce resource down here, as the pilot wove his way between smaller and dirtier buildings, until he finally reached such a dingy and dirty street he stopped. He cut his engine, hopped out of his speeder onto the small walkway, and walked around to the rear of his craft. He heaved the body out, and dragged it to the edge of the walkway. Down below was utter darkness, and there came forth a great stench. The way down was too narrow for his speeder, so he had no other choice than to get rid of the body himself. With a last look at the Jedi's face, the pilot flung the body into the abyss with all his might. He watched as the corpse flapped downwards and out of sight. With a sigh of relief, he climbed back into his speeder and set off towards more inhabitable areas.
For the second time in less than an hour, Mace Windu fell through the streets of Coruscant, unconscious. This fall however was much shorter than the last. After about twenty meters he landed in a rather soft pile of garbage down in one of Coruscant's bottommost levels. He lay there for several hours before he stirred and slowly regained consciousness. As he came to his senses, he sniffed the reek and noticed the almost total absence of light. He got to his feet in a hurry, starring wildly around. There was nothing in sight, no sound, no movement. He felt nothing in the Force, nothing but a constant buzzing sound. It felt horribly like void. Something must have happened, something horrible. Not only to him, but to all the Jedi. Master Yoda had been right. The Jedi Order could not have perished already, he thought. Mace lowered his gaze onto the stump of his arm. A single word, a single name came into his mind as he starred at the blackened and scared flesh that stuck out of his robes: Skywalker. So his true colors had finally shown. He had been right in not trusting him. The young Jedi had betrayed the Order by attacking him. He had turned, turned to the dark side, Mace thought bitterly. That brought the number of recognized Sith lords in the galaxy up to two. He took off his blackened robes and wrapped his right arm in them as best he could. Then, he stumbled forward, seeking a lift. He could not linger here forever. There were things to be taken care of. There was a Sith Lord that had to be destroyed. There was revenge to be taken.