AUHTOR'S NOTE: This is a special treat chapter for you. It's in Malak's point of view instead of Carth's. Hope you like it!
The Leviathan
SURPRISE, MY LOVES! A special treat chapter just for you! )
Rated PG13
Disclaimer: I doubt I even own my own butt.
The Leviathan
Malak knew he couldn't fight her on his own. Thank his genius for putting the others in a stasis. That man… Revan's pet… oh, he was a bottle ready to burst. It would be a pleasure to put him to rest. The guy looked almost dangerous as he stood there, puny but shining with Calo's armor. The gall of it! How could he dawn the clothing of such a great man and not tremble?
Revan was on him, of course. She was lovely in that way – straight to business, fun later. Malak was amazed. Even in her Council-induced retardation she is strong and passionate, wasting no time attempting to gut him. The man barreled out of the way, smacking his head against the wall. Panic welled up in his mind and he lurched downwards, just in time to miss the jab to where his heart had been. He hit the floor and rolled out of the way. Sparks erupted at his fingertips, singing his hand and wrist.
The bitch was too close.
Swearing, he threw himself forward, using the momentum to bring himself to his feet. A flash of purple whizzed past his waist. She was fast. He turned to face her again, looking at her as she struck with prejudice and seared his stomach. He didn't have the will to completely kill her, he realized as he tucked down and knocked her legs aside. When she was up again he kicked her squarely in the face, letting out a queer cry.
She was beautiful, damn her to hell. She may not have realized it, but she was so fluid in her movements, her face flushed cunningly as she drove her lightsaber toward him, and though her expression was one of twisted, sadistic bloodlust, her pretty eyes gleamed sharp and bright, and she was just as lovely as ever.
Whoa. Pay attention. That one was far too close. She had almost lopped off his arm, the clever little monster. His skin burned with the closeness of that encounter. No, she was far too… wonderful… to be left for dead. Malak's past emotions, as far as he himself was concerned, had fallen away with his jaw. He didn't love her for her anymore, but for her ferocity and ingenuity, for the ability she seemed to have to mold and turn absolutely feral and wild. He could recall how stimulating she had been for sex, nearly beating him to death every time, for something inhuman would take over her, like it did now.
Such fierceness would make her a fine apprentice. It was then decided in Malak's mind to capture her. The brilliance! Perhaps he could win her over after all… though he didn't love her anymore, it wouldn't hurt to re-live her overwhelming affections. But it would be such a misfortune when she decided to cut him down as his apprentice, for she could do it easily, and she would most likely poison him, to turn the odds to her favor. She had done it at least thrice before. She had always been smart.
He kicked her in the chest, making her stagger backwards. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple. It was difficult to hold onto the stasis fields while fighting Revan, especially with that Bastila harlot fighting with all of her might. That Carth fellow seemed to be fighting hard, too, for a non-Force-user.
Something hard struck him over the head. The hilt of her lightsaber. Dizzied and feeling rather ill, Malak gave up. With the last trickle of Force energy left, he set her in a whirlwind, and ran for his life. He stumbled blindly down the passageways, locking the doors, his head spinning with pain. Hot blood spilled over his collar.
That monster. That beautiful, wonderful, sensational monster.
He sank to the ground, stripping an emergency medpack off of the wall and slapping it against his wound. He knew he wouldn't hold out much longer against Revan's onslaught. He would have to make an escape. But to die at her hand would not be a shameful thing – she had always been the stronger and the wiser, though he would never admit it.
The door whizzed open on his left. He looked up, still weak and wounded, feeling slightly surprised that she had taken the effort to track him down again. He released the taxing stasis on Bastila and Carth and immediately he could hear their thudding footsteps in the hallways.
Slowly, Malak rose to his feet, turning his lightsaber back on. "I'm sorry," he murmured to himself, but she wasn't listening. With as much grace and strategic consideration as ever, she moved for him, twirling out of his grasp and striking him at the back of his knees. His legs buckled but he managed to keep his feet. With as much strength as he could muster in his reluctance to harm her, he turned on his heel, swinging a powerful, booted foot around to kick her squarely on the jaw. There was a sickening crack, but she kept at it still, grabbing his foot and tumbling with him.
Grappling. Malak had always been better at grappling. He had often teased her for letting him mount her so during sparring matches, but she had always replied that she let him win, merely for the practice.
Of course, Malak would always find this rather amusing. Practice. How coy.
Now Malak was winning. He straddled her and began beating her head on the floor. She moaned and screamed, trying to kick him, but her legs flailed helplessly beneath him. Tears began to well up in her eyes and she gritted her teeth against the pain, wriggling desperately, but Malak kept his grip. He didn't like doing this, but he had to.
Just as she was giving way to unconsciousness, the door burst open, and Bastila stood there, armed, her eyes flickering with anger. "This isn't over, Malak!" she roared, twirling her lightsaber threateningly.
Malak was amused. He actually laughed, releasing Revan, who staggered to her feet and sank to her knees weakly, her head clearly swimming. He spat at her. "Your friends do not give up easily, Revan; you always could inspire loyalty. But even the three of you together cannot stand against my power!"
Bastila seemed to snap. Her face turned red and she bared her teeth as she screamed, "FOR THE JEDI!"
Malak was amazed, yet again. Some of Revan's ferocity had rubbed off on this woman. A lightsaber came out of nowhere, striking him hilt-first in the gut. He grunted, sinking to his knees. That wench. That harlot. She'd pay. By the gods, she'd pay. She'd pay for striking him, for daring to think she could match him, for taking Revan away from him.
But Malak realized as Bastila cried for her friends to leave that this was a brilliant opportunity. A plan was already forming. No, Bastila, you won't die… not yet…
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Author's Notes: This went well, considering that I've never written a full, long battle before. Let me know what you thought… I cannot judge for myself. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed my little surprise present chapter! The story will continue normally next chapter.
Amionete – Thank you very much. I try hard to harness the feelings between characters… sometimes I don't do so great, but this time I think I'm getting somewhere. Your support means a lot.
SilverSentinal21 – You're really great at telling me how I do. Thank you so much.
LongshotOR – I update when I can. I'm already working my butt off. Thanks, though, for liking it so much. XD;;
Amme Moto – Yeah. I got tired of searching for things for the Leviathan so I made on myself. There really should be more fanfiction for KOTOR.
Odious Feline – Someone reads my disclaimers? Hoorah!
Vivli – How'd I do, luff?