Exile strode through the halls of the Trayus Academy, a confidence like no other filling her strides. Just entering the system, you felt a surge in power. Entering the planet's weakened; almost poisoned atmosphere invoked an undying eagerness for battle. And walking on its surface made you felt invincible. This was much needed; as Atton had charged into Malachor head first, almost suicidal. Exile had barely jumped off ship before the Ebon Hawk fell into one of the many crevasses that covered the landscape. A couple of hours later, she found the academy.
The troopers, Sith and Dark Jedi she encountered stood no chance, no matter how many of them there were. Exile had lost her sense of time the minute she set foot in the structure. And the lack of a sun or moon prevented her from figuring it out on her own.
Using Kreia's presence as a beacon, Exile walked into the middle of a wide and turned to face a door, and knew the old woman would be on the other side.
But when a shiver a danger sense prickled down her spine, Exile did not hesitate to whip herself around and cast Force-lightning at its source. But nothing was there, only stone. Stone . . . and pillars.
She pulled her lightsaber from her belt. "Show yourself," Exile said, scanning the pillars and finding no additional shadows reflecting off the wall that would indicate a person. Until, that is, he walked out from behind one, a lightsaber in his hand.
"Sion." She hissed. He was just as she remembered from Korriban, rotting flesh and all, wearing only a pair of black trousers, boots, and a gauntlet on his right arm that almost reached his shoulder. His only real eye was like a dagger digging into her mind.
"Why have you come here?" Sion asked in his raspy, demonic voice. "You stand no chance."
"Well that's a matter of debate." Exile said with a grin. With a loud Snap-Hiss, her lightsaber came to life and she readied it at her side.
Sion did the same, raising his crimson blade and charging. He came down on her in a flurry, slashing and striking at her chest and head. Her Mandalorian training took over from there. He brought his blade down hard, stopping it with her own only centimeters from her nose. Then dropped down and slammed her foot into his shin, bringing the walking corpse down and leaping back and away from him. Then lowered herself into an attack stance.
He was already up and running back for round two. It was short lived. When he lashed out with a two-handed grip, Exile just back-stepped out of the way, then stepped forward and swung her blade forward, slicing through his arms just above the elbows.
The lightsaber still clutched in the hands shut down as the arms hit the floor, invoking a smile to form on Exile's lips.
But nothing from Sion. Not a cringe, not a flinch. He stood there emotionless, smoke still pouring from the ends of his arms.
Then, her unasked question was answered. The two severed arms rose up slowly, still gripping the lightsaber in hand. As Exile swallowed hard, one of the hands flipped the activator stud, igniting the crimson blade and hanging there in an unsaid challenge. She hesitated, and then charged.
But she couldn't get to Sion. No longer bound by the restrictions of a body, the arms whipped around in a hurricane of blows, backing Exile away from Sion and forcing her against one of the pillars behind them. The crimson blade pummeled against hers with enough force to get her to her knees and make her forehead wrinkle in concentration . . . or perhaps frustration
One of the hands released its hold on the hilt, allowing the remaining hand to move at a frightening speed. Like a windmill, it just kept coming back, consuming her attention and not seeing the other arm before it was too late. It was perfectly timed, the crimson blade whirling away just as the arm came in and plowed into her face. Exile was sure she heard something crack, though if it was him or her, she did not know.
That was like a feather brushing against her compared to the following attack. The weapon arm, now holding the saber in a reversed grip, dug the energy blades' tip into her shoulder, far enough to where she felt it almost breach through the other side. Gritting her teeth to keep herself from screaming, Exile threw her saber up and knocked the other away, then with two quick swings, sliced the two arms down the middle and pushed them away.
Gathering her strength, Exile tossed her saber forward toward Sion. The Sith Lord jumped, but was a second too slow. Her scarlet lightsaber cut through his legs, cleaving them off just under the knee.
Again, there was no response. Sion caught himself in mid-air, his torso hovering a little over a meter from his legs as he propped them back up. "You cannot stop me," Sion said plainly. "my pain is what binds me, and my pain is limitless."
We'll find out, won't we? Drawing from her own pain, Exile mentally guided her lightsaber around a pillar and back around to Sion. He didn't so much as twitch when the scarlet blade burned through his neck. The saber was returning to her waiting hand when one of the fists came at her, breaking her connection and causing the weapon to shut down mid-way and drop to the floor with a dead thud.
Allowing the pain to subside, she looked up to find Sion's head hovering a centimeter from the cut off point. The decapitated head inclined upward a little toward her, and his face still emotionless.
"You will not stop me." The legs, torso, and arms began to close in all around her, leaving the head behind and the crimson lightsaber re-igniting. "Goodbye, Exile."
"No!" Exile spat out. She reached out and grasped each limb with her mind, throwing them back to Sion and holding them together in her grip.
He tried to squirm out of it, of course. But with the combination of the searing pain in her right shoulder and the unbridled fear from all that had happened in the past few minutes, he had no chance. Bones slowly began cracking under the pressure.
"Do you know what you are, Sion?" Exile asked gravely as she stumbled to her feet, keeping her good arm outstretched. He made another attempt to escape, and she had to increase her grip to stop him. "An insect. A creature that just doesn't know when to it's time to lie down and die. Well, it's time you were crushed beneath my heel."
Setting her teeth, Exile began slowly clenching her hand, hearing Sion's screams from under the limbs. It was like trying to shut a rusted door, but slowly but surely, the corpse-like body crumpled closer and closer. Her brow moistened with sweat. And with a final push, she grinded Sion's body and limbs until only dust remained.
Exile sighed audibly, slumping back against the pillar and sliding to the floor. Her throat was dry from the stale air, and her windpipe burned in her neck. But eventually Exile gathered her strength and stood, making her way to the pile on the floor. Shifting through the dust, trousers and boots, she found his lightsaber at the bottom of it all, right next to his artificial eye.
Clipping it next to the others, Exile limped across the room toward the door, holding her injured arm at the wound. She paused to grab her lightsaber off the ground but didn't bother to put it back on her belt, and proceeded to the door.