Chapter 19: Circus for a Psycho
"Boy or girl?"
The ship was dark. Everything was dark, nowadays; the only bright side to this being the fact that he was somewhat used to it. The hum of the engines and the warm body pressed against him, skin against skin, helped the shadows melt away a bit, helped the fear stay controllable, helped him pretend that maybe, just maybe, he was in a large king-sized bed in apartment 500 of the Senate quarters. This woman against him, she was asleep and in perfect peace; and his arm was wrapped around her not out of protection, but mere relaxation. He could pretend that they weren't in this stuffy cargo ship, in a small storage closet for some privacy away from the masses of refugees out in the main bays. He could pretend that, for real, they were safe.
But they weren't safe. Wouldn't be safe for quite a while. So Anakin shoved away those thoughts before they could go any further, and focused on his wife's voice. "Hmm?" he hummed, having dozed off slightly when she asked her question.
Padme was curled up, facing him, shoulders and hair and face lit up by the red emergency bulb in the corner, the rest of her slim body after her shoulders covered by a thick sheet that hid her and her husband beneath its woolen folds. Her face was against his bare chest, fingers tracing patterns as she closed her eyes briefly, then reopened them. "Boy or girl?" she whispered. One of her thin hands caught his calloused ones, and moved his fingers to her projecting stomach. He ran the pads of his fingertips along the soft, rounded skin, and for a brief second, a smile twitched into existence on his face.
"Girl. Just like her mother," he murmured, looking at her softly.
A breathy laugh was released at that from the woman, a sound so rare that Anakin closed his eyes and reveled in it as she replied, "No. Have you felt how much he kicks? He's just like his daddy."
"So sorry, m' lady, but I must disagree."
A wan smile. "Well pardon me, general, but I'm afraid we'll just have to agree to disagree then."
They laughed together, a quiet, in-the-throat chuckle that rumbled just like the ship's engines. It was dark, yet it was warm, and for a short period of time, it was safe…
xXx DATE: 5/17/45876 (Three Months Later) xXx
Safe.
Begrudgingly, with a stifled groan, Anakin forced his eyes open, blue irises suddenly meeting the harsh, artificial white light from above. He was lying on his back, that much was obvious; the floor coo, white tile. Slightly damp. Chilling. Wincing, the Knight sat up slowly, muscles like led for the time being; a palm traveled to the side of his head as Anakin blinked his eyes into focus and looked around.
The room was simple and empty, except for a door on one end, a starch collapsible cot in one corner, and a cart with a locked cabinet on the bottom next to it. Immediately, once the room stopped spinning, Anakin stumbled to his feet and made his way over to it. Force-suppressant still heavy in his system, clouding his mind, distorting the Chosen One's senses, he stumbled about like an inebriated fool for a few minutes. But make it to the cart he did, and immediately, he attempted to throw open the cabinet. The doors wouldn't move, even when he hit it – hard – with his mechanical hand. Not even a blasted dent.
The cot was useless as well; Anakin was one step away from pounding against the tile floor and attempting to get a shard up to be used as a knife when the door suddenly slid open, and two large figures in bright white hazmat suits stepped in.
He didn't wait. When had he ever? As soon as the door was shut behind them, Anakin charged full force, throwing the cart forward and crashing it into the knees of the first person (it elicited a sharp "oof" from him) as he jumped into the air and kicked with both legs out at the second. The drugs in his system sent the attack off but it still hit his target in the thigh; this time the cry was from a female as she flew back and hit the wall, hard. The Jedi advanced, clenching his jaw as he moved to ram his metal hand into her suit's mask.
The click of a DC-15 blaster's safety being turned off, and the barrel pressed against his head, forced him to a sharp stop.
"My, my." It was the man, who now stood at a slightly-leaning angle thanks to his aching knees, as he sneered through the suit at the Jedi, finger twitching against the trigger of the blaster he held. "You are a feisty one, aren't you. Let go of Arika, will you? Such a beating can't be good for the baby."
Anakin, fists clenching and unclenching but eyes widening, looked down at the woman who was groaning, hands gripping what he could now see the swollen stomach of a five-month-pregnant woman. It was a strange sight, her in the suit with a blaster strapped to her waist (though she never had the chance to draw) and a utility belt with all sorts of nasty looking things attached also hanging from her chest; and then the bump of a growing child also visible on her frame. On her face – what could be seen of it through the black mask – was a cold, spiteful sneer. That of anger, not of fear, for her life or her child's.
"Anakin… I'm pregnant."
Reluctantly, Anakin lowered the fist that was ready to bear down on the woman Arika, leaning back until he was crouched on his heels, hands at his sides. Arika then stood up, and upon the man's inquiries, insisted she was fine but that she would be leaving him to his work. She took off the belt, handing it over, and made her way back out the through the door, the lock audibly clicking once she had disappeared from view.
The blaster was still in place, the barrel pressed against that soft spot between Anakin's head and neck. The suit-wearing-man stooped down, scooped up the belt from where it had been laid on the floor, and slid it over his shoulder. "I wouldn't attempt such things again," he warned in a low tone. "Or I won't give you a chance to blink next time."
Anakin closed his eyes; the Force still lost to him but he had instinct left to him. After being thoughtful and silent for a moment or so, he took a wild guess, and reopened his eyes.
"You never seemed to me to be the father type, Kolic." Why else would that woman even bother with the Stranded, much less remain by Kolic's side all this time? That tone that Kolic held now… it was the same tone Anakin would have used, if the roles were reversed, and Arika had been Padme.
Though, of course, all the roles would have been reversed, and he and Padme would have been the 'good guys'.
Kolic did not seem to appreciate the words, for he roughly grabbed the Jedi's elbow and pulled him to his feet; moments later, Anakin felt his wrists cuffed behind him, and he cursed internally. "You have a quick tongue, young Jedi," the Twi'lek hissed, pulling him towards the cot. "But not a silver one – sometimes I think perhaps your friend Kenobi would have been a better choice."
Anakin visibly bristled at the mention of Obi-Wan, as he was pushed down into a sitting position on the cot; Kolic then stood in front of him, arms clasping before him as he seemed to look his prisoner over. Eventually, the silence was crawling beneath Anakin's skin, and he spoke up. "What's with the suit?" he inquired, voice cold. "Afraid I have cooties?"
With the white light streaming through the mask, Anakin could see the Twi'lek's thin smile appear. "There is absolutely no reason for me to wear this, at the moment," he stated. "However, the material is impenetrable to all except a blaster shot. Thus, necessary for handling certain things that are to come."
"Afraid I'll bite you, like a blasted mutt?"
"Be careful of the things you utter, young Jedi," was the smooth response, followed by the widening of that crocodile smile. "They might spell of our current future."
"I already know my future," Anakin stated, blue eyes narrowing. "And it includes you getting what you asked for."
Kolic actually gave what sounded along the lines of a tut-tut. "Not very Jedi-like at all," he sighed, as if the rules of the Order were a major concern of his. "Not very Jedi-like at all. You are not the 'perfect' Jedi – but you are the Hero with No Fear. The game will be entertaining regardless of your standards, I suppose."
This was not the first time the term 'game' had been used; and with the exception of this man being an absolute psychopath, Anakin wanted to know its meaning. However, before he could speak, Kolic was moving away, and went over to the cart, wheeling it back into its original position. With a key card he unlocked the cabinet, before pressing a finger to his ear it seemed. Or the suit near his ear. A comm.
"Send her in."
Her?
The door slid open again, and a man Anakin didn't recognized stepped inside, dragging a hooded figure. He wasn't wearing a hazmat suit, and neither was his captive.
Kolic leaned against the cart and crossed his ankles, giggling like a straight A school girl. "Let's see if some of that selfless Jedi instinct did stick; and survive the outbreak," he chirped, as he nodded at the newcomer. The man, a stone-faced Zabrakk giant, reached over, and roughly ripped the black sack from the woman's face.
Anakin had fought too long in the Clone War, seen too much, for any outward reaction to show except for a stiffening of his posture, and the anger that molded into his eyes. Inwardly though, the Jedi was cringing, freezing – anger. Frustration. Fear.
Picking them off, one by one…
Kolic winked at the Knight from his position, a movement visible from the angle of his relaxed, enjoyment-laced body. "Inya's the second. Cause and ruckus, and I'll be fetching more, one by one, from your precious Colony. I'll take them all – except Obi-Wan Kenobi. He'll be last. So he gets some quiet time alone, to wonder, to go insane from wondering… what did he do wrong? Why couldn't he save anyone? To wonder if he was doomed to suffer alone on this rock of a planet for all of eternity. I'll make him wonder, young Jedi; I'll make him wonder horrible things. And then… I'll put a laser in his back, and laugh as he tries to crawl to safety – before I put a second in his skull.
"Now. Shall we finally start our game?"
xXx ((the Colony)) xXx
"Inya's gone too."
Kenobi's confirmation was dull, quiet, and resounded through Central like the echo of a man announcing the date of his upcoming death. A foreshadowing, one that had crept up on the Colony ever since they stepped foot back on Coruscant. The Master who had spoken himself leant against the wall once the words escaped his cracked lips, and placed the palm of one hand on his forehead, shielding his eyes. "We have searched everywhere," he continued after a beat of silence. "She's not in the building, or the surrounding areas. She was… most likely taken to wherever Anakin is, by whoever took Anakin."
"The Forsaken," Nathan spat, sitting on his lump with a rifle blaster on his lap that he'd been cleaning the past hour. "Just say it. The Forsaken duped us all like a bunch of friggin' magicians, and are gonna pick us off one by one."
Jason Dean, leaning against the windowsill of one of the glass windows, looked outside at the bleak, desert-like horizon with a frown, arms folded over his chest. "Why would they?" he responded to Nathan's words. "Why not supplies? Information? Why people, people that could one day provide a cure…?"
"Because they're all a bunch of blasted Separatists, that's why," Ax piped up, voice muffled by the ration packet he was dumping into his mouth. "A bunch of political bullshit, that's what this is."
"Oi, would ya drop the blasted Separatist crap already…"
"That ain't it, Ax…"
"Shut up…"
"All of you, pipe down and eat," Derek barked before the murmur moving through the Colony could rise into yet another argument. "I don't want to hear another word unless it's a ten or over on the intelligence scale." As he spoke, the man was crossing Central, until he was standing beside Obi-Wan, a frown etched into his features as per usual lately. The look he cast was clearly asking for the Jedi's opinion, and Obi-Wan let out a tired exhale.
That's what he was. Tired. So damn tired already…
"Most likely, it is the Forsaken," he said softly after taking a moment. "I don't know why, nor why we could not sense the danger earlier…"
"We were distracted. Relieved. A bunch of idiots runnin' across a Tuskan Raider desert at the first sign of water."
Obi-Wan nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose. "And we've paid the price for it," he murmured. "We have to keep searching. Branch out more – they couldn't have gone too far in the little amount of time that's passed. They have to be nearby somewhere."
Derek pursed his lips, but nodded slowly. "Agreed. Scour the area… still no connection with Anakin?"
"No. They must have access to some sort of Force-suppressant. It's the only explanation I can think of."
Another nod, grimmer. A thousand thoughts flying through each man's mind, a highway of blocked traffic musings and fears. None uttered aloud, of course.
Jason continued to stare out at the window that had been uncovered for now to let in some hot, yellow sunlight. A deactivated comlink rested on the windowsill, untouched in quite some time now. Carrying the voice of over half a dozen logs, and now nothing but yet another unused piece of metal. The temptation to pick it up and bring back to life the little green activation light itched at the back of his mind, but the Knight didn't dare give in. Not until Anakin and Inya returned. If he did, the walls might slip, and he might have no control of the words that would inevitably spill from his mouth in a desperate release – and he didn't want that.
He was bending, but not quite breaking. Not yet, anyways.
The emotions of each Colony member buzzed through Central through the Force – he knew Obi-Wan could feel it, and he wondered how the man continued to look so calm and together despite everything. Once in a while, the Master would slip up slightly, and Jason could feel it: the fear. The terror. The wondering. Where Anakin was, if he was suffering under Death, under a seizure. If he were dead, or near death. All the if's, suffocating, clogging, unbearable… and gone, disappeared as Obi-Wan would find the mistake in his mental walls and repair the breach, and Jason would be shut out once more. He'd probed once, touched along the edges of that mystic shield wrapped around Kenobi's mind like a fine silver lining, but the Master had sent him a look that said everything that needed to be said, and Jason's presence had shrunk away, almost ashamed for prying. He'd felt like a youngling again; and the feeling had stayed since then, clinging to him. That aching sense of vulnerability that he knew everyone was feeling.
A bunch of dreaming children playing dress up with camo armor and big guns. That's what they were. That's all they were.
It was in the middle of this train of thought that Jason first caught a glimpse of it. It was so fleeting, so fast, that he didn't even pay any mind to it when his peripheral vision first glanced at it. But then it reappeared with the wind, and Jason straightened, pushing off the wall and turning so he was facing the window completely. After staring for a few minutes, his green eyes narrowed, and he poked through the Force at Obi-Wan, asking him to come over. Obi-Wan, still speaking with Derek, picked up on the signal easily and stopped speaking mid-sentence, eyes flickering to Derek, who understood that something was noticed, and gave a nod. Both men crossed Central silently, unnoticed by the brooding and eating others, and came up side-by-side with Jason.
Jason, silent still, merely pointed at the bright red flag bellowing into view several blocks away, patched together crudely but still effective, and serving its obvious purpose.
A signal.
xXx ((the Forsaken)) xXx
The needle was rather large, and the red liquid within it glistened in the light. It was almost captivating to watch it slosh around the glass tube, the light catching the mixture of blood, saliva, and other chemicals to make it more potent perfectly. Kolic viewed it a glorious sight, like a god who stumbled upon the universe already created for him, ripe for the picking. The only thing that shimmered more than the mutt blood that the needle held was the tip, pressed against a vein in Inya Mari's neck, not penetrating the skin; but it would only take a nanosecond to do so.
The threat did well to keep Anakin Skywalker in line as he, Inya, and Kolic walked down one of the Forsaken's corridors – not the original base, obviously, but the halls of the arena, the Coliseum Kolic had called it soon after discovering it. He hummed as he walked, for he felt like doing so – after all, the day was grand, about to fully begin, and he was excited.
Anakin kept his movements slow and even for Inya's sake, and Inya's sake alone. His ears picked up the Twi'lek's tune and it made the Knight clench his jaw once more, hand slowly curling into fists, but other than that he didn't. He was simply trying to get under his skin, after all. A reaction was what he wanted, and damn it, Anakin would put off giving him what he wanted as long as possible.
"Are you afraid?" Kolic murmured, voice a deadly velvet that cut through the silence and the humming as they walked. "Young Jedi? Are you afraid, for your life, or that of the woman's? Do Jedi feel fear, when cut off from the Force? Young Jedi, are you afraid of what you will experience when I kill you?"
Anakin closed his eyes, taking that brief moment that he had before every battle, every fight, every skirmish. He was almost ready to refuse to answer completely, before thinking of a much more fitting response. His eyes slid back open, his stride never altering as he did so.
"Are you?" he whispered.
The Twi'lek seemed to enjoy that answer; Anakin could hear the chuckle behind him, followed by an audible tensing from Inya. The woman's fear was obvious, even without the Force to him. "No, young Jedi," Kolic responded once his laughter had died down. "I do not fear death at this time. Do you know why?"
Anakin didn't reply this time; Kolic didn't care. "Because I will die with a smile, young Jedi," he said in an almost reminiscent tone, as if he were recalling some fond childhood memory. "Because I will die smiling to the harmony of your screams as you and your friend die."
And with that, Inya was given a sudden, violent shove out of the blue, causing her to cry out and crash into Anakin. Both her and the Jedi hit the ground hard, inside a small side room Anakin hadn't even noticed them nearing because of his focus on Kolic's words. Darkness surrounded them a second later as Kolic hit the door controls and the metal portal shut and locked on them. Immediately, Skywalker was on his knees, the take-charge general for a few seconds once more, eyes widening but blind. "Inya?"
"H-Here…" The woman sat up shakily, trying to recover from the fright that had seized her.
"Did it cut you?" Anakin located her from her voice, more-or-less crawling over to her, flesh hand immediately travelling to her throat. "The needle – did it nick you, Inya?"
"No, no," Inya breathed out, closing her eyes and swallowing. "He removed it before pushing me…"
That issue covered, Anakin pursed his lips and leaned back, looking around at the blackness, exhaling slowly. "Did you see what room this is…?"
"You're the last two to arrive. That means the games all set."
It was a woman's voice that cut Anakin off; but it wasn't Inya.
Suddenly a red emergency light came to life in all four corners of the small room, and eight other people were suddenly visible, emerging from the darkness like shadows. Anakin jumped to his feet, Inya following though stumbling more. The speaker, a Togruta (something Anakin noted reluctantly and with ice in his veins) was staring at them steadily, already standing, as were the others behind her.
After a moment of staring at each other, Anakin spoke up. "Who are you?"
The Togruta blind, face markings streaked with dirt and what appeared to be tear tracks, with the lines of a thousand ages warping her face, responded in the same low tone as before, "The first eight. And you are the final two. The game will start soon."
"Game?" Unlike Skywalker, this was the first Inya was hearing the term, and it seemed to make her already-pallid skin impossibly paler in the red light. "What are you talking about? What game?"
The Togruta didn't look at Inya even once – her blue gaze was on Anakin, and never left him. "Don't listen to his taunts," she said smoothly; her voice a warm, rich flow scarred with gravel but still calming, unlike the poisonous silk of Kolic's. "Stay calm. Stay alive. If you win… I wish you the best." Something almost among the hints of a smile appeared across her dark lips. "None of us asked for this. It is not personal, nor is it desired – but we will all fight to stay alive."
A buzzer sounded suddenly. Loud, invasive, ear piercing; Inya's hands flew to her ears and Anakin jumped but otherwise didn't move or tear his stare away from the Togruta. She seemed so suddenly grow five times fiercer at the sound, her fists clenching at her sides as she turned then to face one of the walls – a wall Anakin could suddenly see was actually a door. And then he saw something else; the Togruta's back, a horrid mess of scarred and scabbed skin, healed over time but with the texture of rugged terrain. Her back lekku was missing, instead replaced with a metal tip the same shape but hard, drilled in with large screws. She turned to face the door, as did most of the others in the room (though one woman instead cowered in the corner, and a man didn't move from where he was nervously pacing back and forth), and added on to her words, voice somehow carrying over the screeching of the buzzer:
"And we will all do whatever it takes to end the game."
The buzzer was increasingly growing louder; and just when Anakin thought he too would have to cover his ears with his hands, the door they were all facing suddenly flung itself up and outwards, open, in a crashing of gears and clanging metal. Inya stumbled backwards. And Anakin took a step forward.
Waiting outside was rain; coming down in sheets from burst pipes currently out of view. The floor was already a few inches underwater, and the liquid came rushing in, ice cold as it hit Anakin's feet, soaking them through the few holes in his boots – not his Jedi boots, no, they had taken those, as well as his armor. He felt the chill fully of the outside corridor through the thin long-sleeve and black jeans they had put him in at some point; but the temperature wasn't what he was focused on, nor the water.
No, it was on the balconies in view, covered in a thick glass, where Kolic and the other Forsaken members sat grinning widely, clapping and cheering. More than whom had originally been there that Anakin remembered – at least fifty. And beneath them, the short hallway separated into three others, enveloped in darkness and harsh red light. The buzzer finally cut off, but the noise didn't lessen. The applause boomed from the speakers, the water hit the ground hard with loud splashes, and there was a constant beeping. Kolic cheered loudest of all.
And then, a raging, screaming mutt stumbled out of each of the three hallways, and charged towards the group in the room.